Gatehaven Page 5

  Apparently, the earl’s aunt made a good first impression. Ian could only hope Shannon’s parents were right about the woman, but he had doubts. He put the letter with the others and tried not to think about the missing young women the vicar mentioned.

  Each time he read one of the letters, he became more convinced that he was a part of an important mission. The letters were keys that fit unknown locks. Doors needed to be opened if he hoped to save Shannon and find a murderer. Somehow, he knew he must act as a watchman on the wall until his mission was complete—no matter how long it took.

  For now, he would read and study the Bible, and then he would go to sleep. n

  Dickson had told Ian that after they broke the fast the next morning, the earl’s party would set out for the village of Rosslyn and stay the night. The valet had seemed untroubled by that agenda. Ian found it disturbing. Pastor Petit had warned Ian to beware of that particular town and especially a certain chapel there, and so had the innkeeper’s wife.

  Ian hadn’t liked sitting in the carriage on the previous day with nothing to do and nobody to talk to but a skinny valet and a skinnier maid who barely appeared to notice him, and he would have many more such days before they reached the earl’s estate in England. The thought of spending his days with Dickson and Polly gave him no joy.

  As they rolled on toward Rosslyn the next morning, Ian’s thoughts returned to conversations he had with his minister shortly before he left Luss. The churchman had informed Ian of scriptures about binding Satan and that the devil was sometimes called the strong man. Ian had listened carefully but didn’t ask questions on that topic until a later visit and after he’d had time to think about it.

  “How would a Christian bind the devil if ever he needed to do that?” Ian had asked.

  “I would ask the Lord in prayer to bind up Satan and his demons and fallen angels in heaven as I bind them on earth—in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ,” his pastor had replied. “But don’t take my word. Read the Bible for yourself.

  “In the Book of Mark,” the minister went on, “chapter three and verse twenty-seven, Jesus said, ‘No man can enter into a strong man’s house, and spoil his goods, except he will first bind the strong man; and then he will spoil the house.’”

  “And the strong man is the devil?” Ian asked.

  “I believe in this scripture, the strong man is indeed the devil.” The minister nodded as if to confirm it. “Jesus also talks about binding and loosing in the Book of Matthew, chapter sixteen and verse nineteen. And I must remind you to always test the spirits—whether human or angelic—to see if they are of the Lord.”

  Ian blinked and shook his head. None of this was clear in his mind.

  “In the Book of 1 John,” the pastor continued, “chapter four and verse one, the Bible says, ‘Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world.’”

  Ian recalled being totally confused. “Forgive me for interrupting, sir,” he’d said. “But what does that verse mean in plain language?”

  The pastor had smiled. “God knows the deeper meaning of Scripture. I can only tell you what I think it means.” He cleared his throat. “I once knew two women that attended services at our church, and both have moved away since the telling. One of these women was a former witch that once read tealeaves for money and claimed to know the future. The other had always been a member of our church.”

  “A witch? Surely you jest.”

  “I am telling the truth. As I said, both these women were members of our church, and both women heard voices in their heads they claimed came from God. Neither one bothered to test the spirits to see if what they heard came from God or from the spirit of antichrist. Perhaps they didn’t know how to test the spirits or even that they should do it.”

  Ian leaned forward. “So what did you do?”

  “I told them to test the spirits.”

  “But don’t take my word,” Ian finished for him. “Read the Bible for yourself.”

  “I say ‘don’t take my word’ often, do I not?” The pastor laughed. “The Bible explains how to test the spirits in verses two, three, and four of that same chapter—1 John chapter four.”

  “What happened then?” Ian asked.

  “One did nothing. She just kept hearing voices she claimed came from God. But the other did as the Scriptures said to do. When a voice spoke to her, she said, ‘Has Jesus come in the flesh?’ The voice stopped—didn’t speak another word—at least on that day. She’d done exactly as the Bible said to do by testing the spirits. God does speak to the hearts of believers. But the voice she heard failed the test. Humans can deceive us, too. We should always beware.”

  “Incredible.” Ian released a deep breath of air. “And I guess the one who tested the spirits was the one who had always been a member of our church. Am I right?”

  “As it turned out, you are wrong, Mr. Colquhoun. The one who was once a witch was also a new Christian; so she did as the Bible said. She had never read the Bible or said a single prayer until she visited our church and found the Lord. Afterward, she was so glad that she’d repented of her sins and accepted Jesus as Savior that she wanted to do all she could to show her love and thankfulness by keeping the commandments. So she tested the spirits.”

  “And the other woman? What happened to her?”

  “She was convinced she was right and that the voice she heard came from the Lord. As a result, she refused to test the spirits. I can only hope that she has changed her mind now and is doing God’s will—wherever she might be.” He stared at Ian for a moment. “Don’t be merely a hearer of the Word, Mr. Colquhoun; be a doer of the Word also.”

  As soon as the earl’s party arrived at the inn in the village of Rosslyn where they would stay the night, a maid led the women to their rooms while a man showed the men to theirs. Shannon walked in step with the maid, who was about her age. Miss Foster trudged along a few steps behind them.

  They had only gone a short way when the maid told Shannon of a chapel in Rosslyn that she had visited many times, and that the chapel was becoming quite famous—that people came from as far away as the north of England to visit the mysterious chapel. According to the maid, many spent the night at the very inn where the earl and his party were staying.

  Shannon knew her papa would be pleased that so many people were visiting the village in order to go to church. Some pastors were quite talented when delivering scriptural messages. The pastor at the chapel in Rosslyn had to be a skilled speaker in order to attract such a wide audience, and she so wished that she could hear his message and tell Papa about it when she got home. Perhaps the earl would change his mind and allow them to stay for the service once they arrived.

  She could only hope that it would be so.

  After breaking the fast the next morning, the earl and his party drove a short distance to the chapel. The earl took her arm as Shannon got out of the carriage, nodding toward the chapel. Then the horses and carriages were parked in a field across the way.

  She wore her best dress, a soft tan colored one, and when she looked up at the earl, smiling from under her new bonnet with its bows and yellow ribbons, she expected him to return her smile. But he’d focused his attention on the church just ahead.

  They strolled down the rock walkway that led to the church on maybe the warmest morning in the history of Scotland. Yet a chill shot down her spine—perhaps a grim warning of things to come.

  Shannon studied the chapel as they moved closer. She didn’t know what happened to Ian, but Miss Foster was right behind them.

  She noticed the pointed peaks, the arches, and the elaborate carvings that decorated the outer walls of the stone structure. Her father had told stories of gargoyles and grotesque images like this that were carved on the walls of churches in Paris, France, and how frightening they had looked the first time he saw them. But nothing compared to the disturbing carvings she was seeing now.

  They
had almost reached the heavy front doors of the chapel.

  “Be careful,” the earl warned. “It will be dark inside. I would regret it if you fell and hurt yourself.”

  Shannon gazed inside. It was dark, all right. Only a handful of candles lighted their way.

  “Close your eyes, Miss Aimee. Then open them slowly. It will make it easier to see inside.”

  Shannon shut her eyes, hoping the disturbing feelings she’d been having would go away. Instead, she felt as if a kind of evil engulfed her— covered her like a blanket—pushing her inside the door. But how could that be? This was a church. Wasn’t it?

  “Come.” The earl pulled her forward. “I want to see the Pillar. I have heard so much about it.” He smiled. “That must be it.” He pointed to a huge pillar with carvings all over it. “Is not the Pillar wonderful?”

  Shannon’s heart pounded as if it was about to jump out of her chest. She couldn’t have answered if she’d wanted to. In fact, she didn’t want to say anything.

  “Look at the base of it, my dear,” the earl said. “I was told I would find eight dragons carved there with vines growing out of their mouths. Notice how the vines wind around the pillar itself. Have you ever seen anything so exquisite?”

  She had to agree that the workmanship was excellent; it was the subject matter that bothered her. She didn’t know much about the Bible, but she knew that the dragon was the symbol of Satan. So what were images of the devil doing in a church?

  The oppressive atmosphere made her feel sick to her stomach. She had to get out of there before she spilled her breakfast all over the floor. Without a word, Shannon headed for the door.

  “Shannon,” the earl shouted. “Wait!”

  She raced out the door and down the rock walkway. A large tree towered off to one side. She ran for it as if she thought it was some kind of refuge.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IAN MUST HAVE been waiting behind that tree because all at once he stood beside her.

  “Are you feeling ill?”

  Shannon nodded.

  He reached out and took her hand in his. “I’ve seen that look too many times not to know it when I see it. I went into the chapel before you came. It made me sick, too. Sit down,” he said as if she were a child, “under the tree. I will go for water.”

  Shannon did as she was told. She was too sick to do otherwise.

  “I’m leaving now.”

  She glanced at his strong back as he walked away. Extreme nausea flooded her. Shannon leaned forward and heaved, spilling her first meal of the day on the grassy lawn.

  A few minutes later, he returned with a cup of water and a damp cloth. He handed them to her and sat down beside her.

  Shannon drank the water. Then she squeezed drops of water from the cloth into the palm of her left hand, rubbing it on her face. The damp and cooling cloth had helped somewhat. Still, she felt dirty. She doubted that even an all-over bath would make her feel clean again.

  She longed to go back to the inn and climb in bed, but the horses and carriages wouldn’t be leaving until the earl was ready to go. Shannon felt too ill to walk the distance. They would have no choice but to wait for the earl and Miss Foster to finish their tour of the chapel.

  The earl and his aunt lingered inside. In fact, they didn’t come out for several hours. After a while, Shannon realized that she hadn’t missed them at all.

  At first, the earl had seemed upset that Shannon left the chapel so abruptly, but after she explained that she’d become suddenly ill and had no choice but to leave the building, he seemed to understand. He even sent her one of his dazzling smiles.

  But when they returned to the inn, the earl left them for that meeting he mentioned. Shannon didn’t see him again until the next morning.

  They spent their days traveling and their nights in various inns along the way. Shannon and the earl still hadn’t found a private moment. His aunt never left Shannon’s side. Shannon never spent time with Ian either, and that worried her even more. Ian seemed anxious about something, and she was eager to learn what it might be.

  One day Shannon was especially bored. Nobody in the carriage had spoken more than a few words since they broke the fast that morning. Shannon fidgeted in the seat beside Miss Foster, curling a lock of long hair around her forefinger.

  “What gave Gatehaven its name?” Shannon glanced at the earl, hoping he’d reply, but he appeared to be sleeping. She turned to her chaperone. “Please tell me, Miss Foster. I would really like to know.”

  “Gatehaven was named for the red gate.”

  “Red gate? Would that be the gate one enters when a person first arrives at Gatehaven?”

  “No.” Miss Foster shook her head with such vigor her glasses slipped to the end of her long, pointed nose. “The red gate I am talking about is inside the house, not out. You will find it soon enough whether you are looking for it or not, and that is all I have to say on the subject.” The woman stretched and yawned. “I am tired, and the earl is sleeping. I think I shall go to sleep, too.”

  Miss Foster leaned back and closed her eyes, ending the conversation before it had really gotten started. Shannon closed her eyes, too, but instead of sleeping she kept thinking about the red gate—wondering what Miss Foster’s words could possibly mean.

  Mid-afternoon on that same day, the carriage slowed at a fork in the road. A sign pointed to the right. A bird flashed by, finally perching atop a rustic gate, reminding her again of the red gate Miss Foster mentioned.

  The carriage took the road to the left, and the earl opened his eyes.

  “Oh, you’re awake.” Shannon sent him her sweetest smile. “Was your long nap restful?”

  “No, but tolerable.”

  “My lord.” Shannon leaned forward. “I have wanted to ask you about the red gate Miss Foster mentioned—the one that gave Gatehaven its name. I find it quite intriguing. Please, can you tell me a little about it?”

  The earl shook his head and glanced down at his black boots. “People tell fables about old mansions. Gatehaven is no exception.”

  He lifted his head and gazed at Shannon. “Some see a shadow and think it is a ghost. They see a red line connecting one side of a corridor with the other and call it a red gate.” His gaze intensified. “Wash these tales of demons and red gates from your mind, Miss Aimee. They are illusions. Perhaps you didn’t know that such nonsense is not in fashion among the quality.” He turned and looked out a window.

  “Look.” The earl pointed his forefinger toward something he must have seen in the distance. Then he glanced back at Shannon. “You can see Gatehaven, if you look through those trees.”

  She looked. The mansion was more like an ancient fortress than a home for the earl and his family. They must be richer than she thought possible. Yet even from that distance, there was something dark and mysterious about Gatehaven.

  And what of the red gate? Did deeper secrets wait behind the rock walls? Were dangers her mother only hinted at lurking there as well? Shannon tossed back her curls as if she thought it would push away the doubts.

  The earl would say that I am imagining things that do not exist. Still, Gatehaven is huge—even bigger than I expected.

  But the closer they got to the mansion, the more foreboding it became— at least in her mind.

  Leon Picard was about to take the rock path to the double doors of the mansion when he happened to glance toward the road. An impressive black carriage followed by smaller ones and men on horses loomed in the distance.

  Fine carriages didn’t arrive at Gatehaven every day. As far as he knew, the earl’s mother and grandmother weren’t expecting anyone. Ladies Catherine and Victoria might not appreciate his company with visitors on the way. He turned around and headed back to his carriage, located nearby. Then he stopped to reconsider.

  He needed to know the identity of those visitors. Maybe he would hide in the shadow of the trees to watch—see who came to call. Leon tapped his cane on the hard ground, hobbling over to a nest of
closely spaced oaks a few yards away.

  His leg hurt, but that was nothing new. His body had ached every day for over twenty years—every day of his life since Rachel pushed him into that well. His jaw tightened.

  So what if he tripped and fell instead of being pushed. Either way, it was Rachel’s fault. He hated her for making him a cripple and for other reasons. Yet he still wanted her.

  It made no sense.

  Rachel was a young Huguenot woman living in his village in France the first time he saw her as an adult. He’d wanted her instantly, but she seemed shy, refusing even to talk to him—especially after she learned that he was married. She wouldn’t even tell him her name until he cornered her one day down by the seashore. She said her name was Magdalena Petit, and that she planned to marry a French Huguenot name Javier Aimee—a young man that wasn’t rich or as well educated as Leon. He wanted her anyway—pursuing her relentlessly.

  Not long after that, Leon was waiting for her behind a tree near an old mill when she crossed the glen near the church. She’d taken that path many times, walking right by the old mill, and he knew he’d find her there—if not on that day, soon. He stepped out from behind the tree, and she started running. He raced after her.

  In his rush to catch her, he forgot all about the abandoned well near the mill. Someone had put a thin covering of wooden planks over it to keep the schoolchildren from falling in. But when his feet hit the planks with such force, the covering broke. He fell in.

  He must have lost consciousness for a moment. Blinding pain in his right leg awoke him with a start. Rachel sat on the edge of the well, looking down at him. She must have been on her way home from the butcher shop because the odor of sausages coming from inside the bag she held floated down to him.

  She heard him beg for help from the bottom of that well. Nobody had the right to live after hearing Leon plead for mercy. She told him about the Lord, and then she left.

  Not long after that, a priest arrived with several other men from the village. He would always remember the pain he felt as they pulled him from the well.