I've been known as Caldicott Wyntham for many years, but I gave myself that name after the war. I was born Clara Trinder, the daughter of Molly Trinder, sometime barmaid. She didn't talk much about her life before I came along, but I've discovered some things here and there. When I was a child and asked questions about my father, she'd laugh and say she found me under a cabbage leaf. From the village children I learned I was a bastard, that Mum was seen as a tart. I learned the meaning of that term early.
"Wait." Rose turned to Max. "Isn't that the name of the woman Cottie hired you to find?"
"Clara Trinder," said Max quietly. "I wasn't told that she and Ms. Wyntham were the same person."
Brenna frowned. "She hired you to find herself?" She hunched her shoulders and looked around. "Is it just me or is it getting colder in here?"
"I feel it, too." Max glanced at the others, brow raised. "Would you agree?"
Rose was clutching her arms. "It's not just you. I'll turn up the furnace." She went out of the room and returned a short time later. "The place ought to feel like a sauna in a few minutes." She sat down. "Go on, Kerry."
Kerry resumed reading.
Mum said I might have been born near the village of Kettleworth in Northumberland, in 1920. I honestly think she forgot where the blessed event occurred. She said my birth was never recorded, so God knows the circumstances. I never knew my grandparents on either side and Mum didn't tell me who they were. I've always thought they cast her out, giving me no reason to concern myself with any of them.
Mum worked as a barmaid in many of the pubs in the many villages we came to, but she wanted me to be more. I was sent to school wherever we lived, and she always asked the local vicar to give me a list of books to read in order to improve myself. I never attended the schools for long because we always left before we set down roots. "Something new is around the corner," Mum would say, and soon we'd be on our way.
We moved from Cheltenham to Birmingham a year before she died. By then she'd invented a dead father for me—a vicar's assistant at that—and set out to establish me with a proper job or a suitable husband. Looking back, I believe she knew she was dying, and was anxious to see me cared for. I'm glad she never knew what a price I paid for trying to move up in the world. She was a true democrat, my Mum, ahead of her time.
She breathed her last in a hospital charity ward. I stayed at her bedside holding her hand, so thin, so still. The edge of the blue counterpane covering her was frayed. I was frightened by the way she looked at me, with pity in her eyes. "I'm sorry, luv," she said, and I didn't know what she meant. I was eighteen, yet didn't understand she was going to leave me that day. "Do your best, luv," she murmured. "It'll get you somewhere." And she died. I held her hand until it was cold. She was the only person in the world who loved me.
Aura Lee wiped her cheeks with a crumpled tissue. "That sweet girl, left all alone at such an early age."
Rose swallowed and pressed her lips together for a moment. "The world was in a hell of a mess. The Depression and England on the edge of war. She's already hinted she had a rough time. Can we handle whatever we find out about her?"
"She was my friend and yours," said Aura Lee. "If we can't accept who she was, then who can?"
"Did you find anything with the book?" Kerry drank the rest of her coffee and set down her cup. "I'm wondering when she wrote this. Clearly it wasn't a diary she kept at the time these things happened."
"There wasn't anything else," Rose said. "It was inside one of the stair steps to the attic. After we read it, I'll check the other steps to see if more is hidden. Maybe all the other stairs as well." Her shoulders sagged as she let out a long breath. "I don't understand the secrecy. Why would she go to such lengths to hide her journal in such a place?"
"Maybe she tells us in the journal." Max touched Kerry's cheek. "Will you continue or do you want one of us to help?"
Kerry leaned against his palm for a moment. "I'll keep going for now." She smiled at the others. "I've waited so long for this."
Andrea nodded and Brenna returned her smile.
After Mum died, I was lost. The vicar found light cleaning and childcare jobs to keep me busy, but I recall very little of the work or the people involved. I kept going, as I knew Mum would want me to do.
One day realized I had need of real work and a plan.
Everywhere I looked was something to make me think of Mum. I decided to leave Birmingham to get away from the reminders. I thought perhaps London would be the place, but the housekeeper at St. Aidan's took a hand in my future.
She befriended me during Mum's final illness. Her sister was leaving her job as a clerk to the vicar of a small parish in Buckinghamshire. She wrote her sister about me, and her sister pressed my case with the vicar. Before long I was on my way to take her place with a promise of two pounds/six shillings per week and a place to live.
It was remarkably easy. The vicar and his wife introduced me to a young woman needing someone to share her bed-sitting room. I'll call her Flo, a farmer's daughter saving her money to go to London to find a husband. "Looking after a man is better than looking after a herd of cows," she said, and practiced on the young men of the parish, who were responsive to her chestnut curls and rounded figure.
During the day I worked in the tiny church office, typing up committee minutes, making copies of Sunday bulletins on the duplicator. Evenings I read books and plotted which museums I'd see when I ventured to London on my first holiday. Trying to improve myself was a habit, thanks to Mum. Flo had little patience with it.
"Soon all the dishy men will be off fighting the Germans," she told me. "There's a dance at the Hall and it's our duty to dance with them." Who was I to shirk my duty?
The next two years were filled with dancing and picnics with young men soon to be at war. We worked harder than ever at our jobs and lived for such moments of gaiety as we could find.
And that is how I came to meet Duncan, he of the haunted brown eyes and a face carved in strong, beautiful lines. He had thick black hair, a whippet lean body, and a rare smile. I was swept away at our first meeting at a small country-dance, as was he. After all this time, I dare not mention his real name or the estate where he was born. It is still too dangerous.
"What in the world does she mean by that?" Noreen exclaimed, breaking the spell of the narrative.
Brenna took the opportunity to uncoil her legs and stand up. Kerry set down the book and slid out of her chair to head for the bathroom. Max stood, stretching his arms over his head. "The woman could write," he said.
"Yes, she could. I feel as though I've been there with her." Rose glanced at the cups on the table and got up to top off a few. "I imagine Kerry could use some water."
Aura Lee said nothing. Her face had settled into lines of sorrow, her body slumped in the chair.
Rose paused beside her. "What is it?"
"She never said a word about any of it." Aura Lee's lips twisted. "We were friends, or so I thought, but there was never a word about any of this."
"Maybe she couldn't stand to talk about it." Noreen pushed herself out of her chair and surveyed Aura Lee with sympathetic eyes. "Think of the gap between where she starts this story, just a girl in a world on the edge of war, and her ending up here at Wisdom Court. I can't imagine what she went through to make the transition. We all have past experiences we don't talk about, don't we?"
Aura Lee's nod was rueful. "You're right about that." She reached for Noreen's hand and squeezed it.
Kerry came back and Noreen said, "My turn," and left the kitchen.
"It's still cold." Max looked about the room in curiosity. "Have there been any other differences this morning? Items out of place," he said to Rose's quizzical expression. "More of the circles you described yesterday?"
Rose frowned, considering. "No," she said, "nothing I can think of at the moment. Did you notice anything?" she asked Aura Lee.
"Just the cold." Then her eyes widened. "Wait, Strudel was acting oddly at first.
When we came in here she ran over to the corner." She pointed to the area beside the window near Brenna. "She was wagging her tail like she does when she sees someone she likes..." Her eyes filled with tears. "Do you think she could have sensed Cottie?" Her gaze flew back to the corner. "Cottie?"
Max went around the table to put his hand on her shoulder. "I appreciate how hard this is for you. There's no way to know for certain she's been here."
Kerry cupped her coffee mug in her hands and took a sip. "I guess the temperature variation could suggest that Cottie's listening, but we can't be sure."
"Do you have some paper and a pen?" Max asked Rose. "I should have noted the conditions to create a baseline for comparisons." He glanced at Kerry. "I've been distracted, I'm afraid."
Kerry smiled down at her cup.
Rose nodded and left the table, heading for the dining room. When she returned, her eyes were troubled. "According to the thermostat, it's seventy-nine degrees in the house."
"We'll take that as an indication of a visitor's presence. Will you continue, luv?" he asked Kerry.
Chapter 20
From the beginning it was deadly serious between Duncan and me. When our eyes met, each of us was tied to the other. I can describe it in no other way. After a lifetime of never having a place, I belonged to Duncan, and he to me.
Looking back, I recall how the sound of the music simply died away as our steps slowed until we were still. In a bubble of silence Duncan took me by the hand and led me away from the dance floor. We made our way to the shadows at the edge of the room and sat in folding chairs just looking at one another.
He told me he was just down from Oxford to talk to his father about joining the RAF. He knew war was coming and he wanted to do his part. His fingers tightened around mine. "Of course, this complicates things."
I nodded, but for me all had become simple.
Our talk was charged with a connection of another kind. As I told him of Mum's death and how I'd come there, his eyes were fixed on my lips. I could feel his gaze, almost like a touch. I saw the sympathy in his face but I was more intent upon his thick black lashes. With the warmth of his strong hand holding mine came a feeling I'd never known. I was at home. He was my home. But I also realized we had so little time. Soon he would be going to fight, and where would that leave us? Having found each other, would Fate separate us so soon?
Duncan read my mind and smiled. "We've been given a great gift," he said with confidence. "Stop trying to measure it and just accept it. We'll make do, my love, indeed we will." He guided me back to the dance floor and we moved to the music in each other's arms until the band members stopped playing. It was heavenly.
Flo signaled me from the door, where she stood by the side of a tall, thin ensign. I nodded toward Duncan and waved her on. Duncan would take me home and we would see each other the following day. He delivered me to my door and kissed me, holding me in his arms for a long time. I dreamed of him the entire night and awoke the next morning half-convinced it had all been a delusion.
Things began to go wrong almost immediately. When Duncan arrived that morning, he was deeply angry. His father had raged at the idea of his even thinking of entering the military. He was of the persuasion that England would continue to appease Germany, which would achieve its aspirations for expansion and would become the leading country in Europe. How odd now to recognize what an enormous impact the Nazi sympathies of Duncan's father had on my life. Ultimately, they led me to the creation of Wisdom Court. I would take this story to my grave were I not alarmed for the safety of the Wisdom Court residents, past and present.
Kerry looked up from the page. "Get me a blanket, will you?" Her voice shook.
Max was out of his chair in an instant, bending over her in concern. "Your lips are bluish." He looked at the others, frowning at their pale faces and hunched shoulders. "I suggest we go into the living room and light the fire."
Noreen pushed away from the table and stood up stiffly. She held onto the chair back for a moment to steady herself. "Good idea. I'm so cold I can't think of a quote to cite."
"That's definitely serious." Rose helped Aura Lee out of her chair and guided her to the door.
Andrea and Brenna stayed behind. "Let them get the fire going while we put on the kettle." Andrea went to the stove. "Hot chocolate sounds good to me."
Brenna stared at her in wonder. "Vapor is coming from your mouth!" She looked down toward her lips. "Mine, too. Can it be that cold?"
"Evidently. And I thought it was weird last time." Andrea turned off the faucet and slammed the kettle onto the stove. "I hate not knowing what's behind these disturbances!" She turned on the burner. "All I want is to be able to work, to experience my year here and then go to the next thing. Instead we're living in a freaking haunted house." She sounded on the edge of tears.
Brenna was startled at the bitterness in her voice. "You're really scared, aren't you?"
"Aren't you?" Andrea leaned against the counter. "What I went through when I first got here made me question myself, my very sanity. We worked together to figure out what was causing the haunting." Her hands clenched into fists. "We. Resolved. It. When nothing else happened for a while I came to believe it was all over. I hate that the fear has come back." She whirled and started pulling cups out of the cupboard in short, sharp motions.
"Maybe we can resolve it again."
Andrea turned to her. "Brenna, it's worse this time. Look at how many things have happened in just the last couple of days. I believe more spirits are trying to get through to us. And they're stronger, able to manipulate conditions, the temperature and the lights. For the love of God! We're both fogging up the kitchen! We can't live like that. Don't you remember how scared you were last night?"
"What happened last night?" Rose stood in the doorway, and by the look of her, braced for another blow.
Brenna shook her head. "Just one more incident. We can talk about it later."
"No." Andrea took a step toward her. "You have to tell them. It's important." Andrea turned toward Rose. "She's had her own visitation, and it was a doozy."
"All right. Come to the living room. We'll talk about it." Rose caught sight of the kettle on the lit burner. "You're one step ahead of me. I thought warm drinks might revive us a little. Aura Lee said more muffins are in the pantry." She tried to smile. "I think we could all use the carbs."
"Tea and hot chocolate will be ready shortly," Andrea said. "You want to see who wants what?"
"Sure." Rose started out of the room, paused and looked over her shoulder at Brenna. "Don't forget, we need all the information we can get."
Brenna nodded. When Rose was out of the room, she murmured, "Like I could I forget."
Fifteen minutes later everyone had a hot drink and a muffin, and the fireplace was pumping out waves of heat.
Still, the room felt different, Brenna thought. The sense of refuge from just last night had been destroyed by the events since. Unseen occupants had made their presence known. There was no safe haven left at Wisdom Court.
Max had an oversized book serving as a lap desk and was sorting through his notes. "Before we continue reading the journal, I'd like to hear more about how you found it." He glanced at Rose. "You said you were directed to it. What did you mean?"
Rose described the bitter cold on the second floor and the shaft of light shining toward the end of the attic stair step. How the keyhole at the center of the brass circle was made visible, allowing her later to use the tiny key she'd found in Caldicott's room. "I'd never noticed those circles until then."
Max wrote down the details and then regarded her. "Was there anything else you can recall? Sounds? Odors?"
"I did hear a buzzing sound," Rose said. "That was how it started. For a moment I thought a bee or wasp might be trapped at one of the windows. Before I could look, the light intensified and eventually focused onto the brass disk. Then the cold drove me downstairs."
"I've encountered buzzing associated with manifestations
. Interesting." Max scribbled on the paper and glanced back at her. "Did you have any sense as to the intent behind the actions of the... entity? That it meant you to find that step?"
Rose rubbed at her temples. "I'm not certain of anything right now, Max. All I can tell you is what happened. The intent behind it is beyond me."
For a moment Max appeared at a loss. "I'm sorry, I realize you reacted to the stimuli imposed upon you." He added carefully, "I'm attempting to categorize the events. So much is happening here, and with far greater intensity than any of the hauntings I've investigated. It's difficult to find a way to grasp them. What I should have asked was, did you perceive anything else that might expand our comprehension of the phenomenon?"
"No." Rose sighed. "I was so... weakened by that dreadful cold..."
"Hmmm. Similar to what we felt in the kitchen?"
"Maybe." Rose frowned, considering. "It's hard to say. The rest of you were in the kitchen and that made it easier to bear."
"Brenna was alone last night when she experienced a visitation." Andrea's chin was tilted at stubborn angle. "She had a hard time of it."
Kerry set down her cup. "What are you talking about?"
"Andrea..." Brenna scowled at her and waved a hand at Max's questioning look. "I guess the spirit made the rounds last night, but for me it was almost all sound effects." She repeated the particulars of her battle in the dark hallway to get into her rooms. "Every sound I made reverberated until I thought I'd go deaf. It wasn't cold or anything, and I couldn't see because of the dark. No odors, but I'm not sure I'd have noticed them anyway. I was pretty scared."
Aura Lee looked worried. "Could you pick out any specific words in all the noise? Like chanting?"
Brenna shook her head. "It all seemed to come from me, the clang of the keys dropping, the sound from hitting the wall. It was like being in some out-of-whack echo chamber."
"And what time was it?" Max was writing swiftly.
A Signal Shown Page 14
