Kolney Hatch: Buried Secrets (The Secret of Kolney Hatch Book 2)

by Stefani Milan

  “Sure, let’s go into my study then.”

  I showed Wicksy and the policeman into the study and quickly turned on the lamps. The policeman placed the trunk on the floor as I closed the door.

  “Is this about Amy?” I asked. “Did you find her?”

  Wicksy turned to me and said, “No, it’s not. It’s about your Aunt Greta.”

  “What about her?”

  “We’ve been cooperating with the Whitemoor police. Your Aunt Greta had a will. In it, she left her son, your cousin, Bran, her cottage.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Also in your Aunt Greta’s will, this trunk was left to your mother.”

  “So Bran never gave it to my mother?”

  “Have you had any contact with your cousin?”

  “I haven’t seen Bran since we were young lads. He was sent off to boarding school at a young age.”

  “Right. Well, we’re still investigating the situation, but it seems Bran hasn’t been living at the cottage. In fact, he hasn’t been in Scotland at all. We have a lead that he’s in America.”

  “So how did you acquire the trunk?”

  “Well, it seems your aunt’s cottage was occupied illegally by a tenant,” the policeman accompanying Wicksy said. He was as lean as Wicksy, but had a stern black mustache and bulbous nose. “It was only when the police figured this out that they were able to retrieve the trunk.”

  “All right,” I said, crossing one of my arms over the other.

  “Listen, Doctor Watson,” Wicksy said in a voice barely above a whisper. “We’re doing our best to investigate what happened at Kolney Hatch, but...something else has come about. I cannot discuss it at this time. But we’re going to Whitemoor at the end of April. The police there may want to ask you some questions. If you want to go, let us know.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I answered with a nod.

  “Well, that’s it then.”

  “All right. Thanks for bringing the trunk. I’ll see you both out.”

  “Thanks. If you find anything useful in there, give me a call at my office.”

  I walked the detective and policeman to the front door and then returned to the drawing room.

  “What was that all about?” Richard asked.

  I shook my head.

  “My Aunt Greta left me a trunk. The detectives were bringing it to me.”

  Richard laughed.

  “They’ve only found it now? It’s been seven years since her death.”

  “Yes. It was indisposed.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  “They’ve asked me to go back to Whitemoor with them at the end of April.”

  “The less memory you have of Whitemoor, the better.”

  “I suppose. Still, there’s something calling me back to Whitemoor and to Kolney Hatch. Something doesn’t seem right about the whole thing.”

  “But Thomas Reid is dead. What is left to uncover?”

  Just then, Claire entered the room then with the tea.

  “Have you heard, my dear? Paul has a trunk of goods from his Aunt Greta that he cannot open.”

  Claire poured a cup of tea for the three of us and then sat down again in one of the chairs by me.

  “That’s extraordinary,” Claire answered half-heartedly. Then, looking around the room, she said, “While I was in the kitchen, I noticed you changed this place quite a bit.”

  “Yes,” I said. “It was time to...move things around.”

  “It looks nice.”

  “I’ve been going through some of my parent’s things. Well, I’ve already gone through my father’s stuff. I’ve given a lot of his clothing to those in need, and I have to go through my mum’s but...”

  “It’s difficult,” Claire sympathized.

  “It’s just without Eda, I...”

  “Claire could help you sort things out.”

  The way Richard said it left me feeling uneasy.

  “That’s all right,” I said looking from Richard back to Claire. “I can manage on my own.”

  “But...now you have this trunk from your Aunt Greta, and maybe there’s a key to it in your mother’s things.”

  “I should hope there are three keys.”

  Richard’s eyes locked on mine and he raised his eyebrows. Then he turned to Claire and said, “You could start helping him today, Claire. John needs to speak with me about something urgent, and you know how he doesn’t like to wait. I’ll meet with him at the Loxleys and then come back for you.”

  “Oh,” Claire stammered. “Well...” She frowned. “Perhaps we could...come back another day?”

  Claire and I had not been alone together since the night we made love. She looked as nervous as I felt.

  “I guess I could finish it today,” I stressed.

  “Great. It’s settled then,” Richard said, springing up from the couch. He had his coat and hat on before I could say anything further.

  “Well,” I said. “If we’re going to do this, I’ll need some of that cake. I haven’t eaten.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Claire said nervously. “I’ll put a slice on a dish for you.” As Richard fastened the last button on his overcoat, Claire headed out of the drawing room.

  Richard smirked.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” Then, a minute later with a raised eyebrow Richard said, “Don’t forget our little chat from before.”

  “You don’t have to worry.”

  “Good.”

  Richard tipped his hat toward me, and with his cigar in between his teeth, he left.

  10 Aunt Greta’s Message

  Paul Watson’s Journal

  January 14, evening continued.—Claire and I sifted through my mum’s clothes first. We sat in the sitting room of my upstairs guest room, speaking as politely and as platonically as possible. Claire sat on the embroidered pink chair by the lit fireplace, while I sat on the floor by the boxes.

  “All of these boxes are my mum’s,” I said pointing to the boxes by my side. “And the one in the back is Aunt Greta’s.”

  Claire took a deep breath as she looked at all of my mum’s belongings and said, “This must be hard for you to do.”

  “It’s easier than I thought it would be,” I confided. And it was. I didn’t feel as sad as I thought I would. I felt...well...that this cleaning was a long time coming, and that I’d done enough grieving. Even though I loved my parents, and I missed my mum dearly, I had to move on with my life.

  “There may be someone who needs something in these boxes,” she said, offering a smile. “Unless it’s a family heirloom, you could give it to the poor.”

  “I’m sure,” I nodded. “My mum never got a chance to go through this stuff, but I’m certain she would have given it to those who needed it.”

  One by one, we took each item from a box and decided what to do with it. Claire pulled everything from clothes and blankets to women’s perfume from those boxes. Then she came upon an old dusty dark green book hidden at the bottom.

  “You could put this in your bookcase,” Claire offered and then pressed her lips together as she studied it. “It’s awfully heavy.”

  “What book is it?”

  “I don’t see a title on the cover.” Embellished with gold designs that resembled vines, the book was made of a fine leather.

  “Well, open it.”

  Claire opened book and gasped.

  “Paul...it’s not a readable book at all. The middle has been cut out. See?”

  She showed me a perfect cut square in the middle of the pages, and inside that square was a wooden box. I stood up and walked over to where Claire sat.

  “And there’s something in here,” she said reaching her delicate hands into the box in the middle of the book. “Look! A set of keys!”

  “I wonder....” I said as I looked from the keys to the trunk in the corner of the room.

  “Three keyholes. Three keys, all different sizes, just like your Aunt Greta’s trunk.” Claire smiled. “I thi
nk you have a match.”

  “May I have them?”

  Claire nodded as she handed me the set of keys.

  I hurried over to the trunk and looked at the key hole patterns on it.

  “Let’s see what’s in here, shall we?”

  I matched the keys with their holes as best I could and then inserted one of the keys. When I heard it click, I moved to the next one, and finally unlocked the third. I looked over at Claire who was leaning forward with wide eyes.

  I opened the trunk, looked inside, and pulled out an old knitted blanket first.

  “A hidden key and three locks for a knitted blanket,” I said humorously. “I sure hope it’s magical.”

  “There must be something else in there,” Claire said, standing up from her chair and making her way over to me. Taking the blanket she said, “And someone could definitely use this blanket.”

  I looked in the trunk again and pulled out a fine china teapot with a rose design and a single matching tea cup. I laid them on the floor next to me.

  “There’s only one thing more,” I said. I lifted out a small golden jewelry box covered in elaborate Egyptian symbols. “A box in a box. Imagine that.”

  “Not just a box,” Claire laughed. “A jewelry box made of fine gold. I am interested to know what’s in there.”

  I chuckled as I examined the keyhole to the jewelry box. “Another keyhole,” I said. “But I think it may be this small one of the three keys that opens it.

  I tried the smaller key and sure enough I heard a click. When I opened the box my eyes grew wide and Claire gasped. Inside the box was a pearl and diamond necklace, a ruby ring, an emerald bracelet, and an exquisite diamond hair pin.

  “Paul...I think I know why your aunt had three locks on that trunk. Have you any idea how much this jewelry is worth?”

  I pulled out the long pearl and diamond necklace. As I examined it, I heard Claire squeal.

  “Oh, please, please Paul. Please let me try that necklace on.”

  I smiled as I stood, and then I gently fasted the necklace around her neck. My fingers lingered on her neck for a moment, and when she turned around, my heart began to beat quickly.

  Claire’s eyes sparkled even more than the glistening diamonds around her neck. She looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace and admired the necklace.

  “Wow, this is so beautiful, Paul. May I try on the other jewels, too?”

  I brought the box of jewels to Claire and she placed the emerald bracelet around her wrist and the ruby ring on her finger

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “Nothing,” I said, “Nothing at all.”

  But something was wrong. I felt the irrepressible lust for Claire surge within me once more. I was a fool to think it would subside, that I could be alone with her like this.

  “I only want to see how it looks on me,” she said with a smile. “I always wanted to be this elegant.”

  She smiled and ran her fingers across the necklace. I stood behind her and placed my fingers on hers. I traced her neckline with my fingers once more, and then put my arms around her waist and hugged her from behind. I gently kissed the back of Claire’s neck and she leaned against me and let out a groan.

  She turned around to face me, and we fell into a passionate kiss. I wanted her again, and she wanted me. I began to undo her dress as she fell into me.

  “I love you,” I whispered as I kissed her neck and passionately caressed every inch of her body.

  Suddenly we were thrust from our lust-filled moment by an impetuous knocking on the door. Richard was back. Claire and I had been so caught up in the moment that we hadn’t noticed the knocking.

  Our eyes lingered for several seconds. I thought about what Richard said when he asked about Claire. He’d said to let her have her secrets and he would have his. I reached for Claire’s hands. I wanted to tell her that I could take care of her, that I could love her better than he.

  But Claire suddenly seemed fearful. She quickly took off the jewelry and threw it into the jewelry box. As she hurriedly fastened and smoothed out her dress, I whispered, “He doesn’t deserve you Claire.”

  Claire’s eyes were filled with worry. The moment we shared was buried in the dust.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so stupid. I just...I...can’t do this.”

  Claire ran out of the sitting room and hurried down the stairs as Richard continued to pound on the door. I followed her, but by the time I reached the front door, Richard was already inside, shrieking at Claire.

  “I’ve been banging on the door for five minutes,” he said angrily, shooting me a look.

  “Richard, we were going through heavy boxes, and you only knocked for a minute.”

  “Claire, get your coat. We’re leaving now.”

  “Is everything all right, Richard?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  “Did you and John get into a row?”

  “No, we didn’t. I don’t want to talk about it.” With a nasty tone he said, “Claire, hurry up, will you? Let’s go. Paul, I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Richard, it’s all right.” A pang of guilt swept over me then. Claire had finished buttoning her coat. She would not look me in the eyes and gave me only a quick hug goodbye.

  “See you at the Loxley dinner,” I called to them as Claire and Richard headed down Peddler Street.

  “Yes, see you there,” Richard said curtly.

  Once they’d left, I headed back to my sitting room. I was tired and confused. I put the jewels neatly back into the jewelry box. My poor mum was never able to appreciate those jewels. To take my mind off of Claire, I put the box into the wardrobe in the sitting room and picked up the tea pot and cup.

  My hand quivered slightly and the pot rattled. I had just enough time to grab the top of the pot, when I saw there was something inside of it. It was a folded piece of parchment paper. I removed the folded paper and placed the teapot and cup in the wardrobe. Then I sat in the chair by the fire, lit a cigarette, and opened the folded paper. Inside, was a letter to my mum from my Aunt Greta.

  Dearest Wendy,

  My dear sister. My kind, loving, and generous sister. If you’re reading this, then I have passed. I am sorry I had to tell you my secrets. You know how I feel about secrets. Only tell a secret to a friend you’re prepared to lose.

  I grow tired as I write this, but evidence of all that I’ve told you can be found in the floorboards under my bed. One of the three keys in the box I gave you will open what you find. Your items are in there also. Trust no one with what you’ve found, not even the police. No one else must know that you know, and no one but you must find what you find. Look at what they’ve done to me. Please don’t let my death be in vain, Sister. I love you always.

  Fondly,

  Greta

  My heart beat quickened. Aunt Greta had written this letter for my mum, but my mum never had a chance to see it, for she was murdered only a few days after her final return from Whitemoor.

  What secret did Aunt Greta tell my mum? And what evidence lay beneath my aunt’s floorboards? Was Aunt Greta murdered for something she knew? A flame ignited in me, and I knew in that moment, one thing was for sure. I needed answers, and I would return to Whitemoor to find them.

  11 Carriage Through the Mist

  1897

  Six months had passed since Mary Loxley’s episode at the park, and Peter Pennyworth was still missing. Authorities assumed he was dead although they had no body, no leads, and no witnesses who could confirm what had happened to him. Aldous had grown weary from questioning Mary about whether she’d taken the small boy. Babcock was missing, Mary’s fits had become uncontrollable, and Aldous had a gnawing feeling that his sister and Babcock were responsible for the boy’s disappearance.

  To Aldous, preserving the Loxley name was of first priority, so, three weeks prior, Aldous decided to take Doctor Fairburn’s advice and admit Mary into an institution that was as far
away from London as possible with no way to connect her to the kidnapping.

  Now, Aldous stared out the side window of a black covered carriage. They were traveling through a menacing mist and the rugged roads of the Scottish Highlands. His sister Mary, who was heavily sedated, slept next to him.

  “Why has the carriage stopped?”

  “Th’ mist, sir,” Rudolph answered, turning his head slightly as he spoke.

  Aldous observed Rudolph’s waned confidence.

  “Just don’t steer us off a cliff or into a lake, Rudolph.”

  Luckily, the lanterns gave some light along the way. But the mist was so thick, even the carriage horses were barely visible. One of the disgruntled horses whinnied.

  “I can’t see even a foot ahead,” Rudolph said. “Perhaps we should stop, Mr. Loxley.”

  Mary groaned.

  “No. We must keep moving,” Aldous urged.

  “But sir...”

  “Please...I insist.”

  “Woah!” Rudolph exclaimed as the carriage suddenly lurched forward and then came to an abrupt stop. He yelled at the horses. “Come on now....move!”

  Aldous peered out to see that one of the horses refused to take a step further.

  “One of the horses is spooked,” Rudolph said finally, slowly stepping down from the carriage. “What is it boy?” Rudolph whispered. When the second horse began to snort also, Rudolph stammered, “There’s something out here.”

  Aldous slowly climbed out of the carriage with the aid of a long cane and looked around.

  “I don’t see anything,” he disagreed, but the crack of a twig made Aldous think otherwise.

  “Sir,” Rudolph whispered as his eyes grew wide. “Someone is out here with us.”

  A bone-chilling scream from inside the carriage startled Aldous. Worried something had happened to Mary, he quickly hobbled back toward the carriage, while Rudolph frantically searched in the billowing white mist.

  “Are you all right, Sister?” Aldous asked when he reached the carriage. But inside, his sister was still fast asleep from the sedative.

  Aldous made his way back to Rudolph, and they stood next to one another, prepared to take on whatever hid in the darkness.