Gatehaven Page 6

  “A pretty young girl told us to look for you here,” the priest had said. “But she never told us her name.”

  Leon knew he was talking about Magdalena. A year later, he learned the truth. Magdalena wasn’t her name at all. Her name was Rachel.

  Rachel deserved to die for making him love her—then marrying Javier Aimee and leaving France with the man. Leon deserted his young wife in order to follow them to England only to find them briefly and then lose them again. He had enough money left from his inheritance to travel the world searching for them, but he hadn’t counted on being a cripple for the rest of his life. Without a doubt, Rachel caused all the miseries he suffered now.

  He thought of how Rachel had looked that day in France, gazing down at him from the top of the well. Her long auburn mane fell about slender shoulders. Strands of her hair had tumbled forward like a rust-colored waterfall against her milk-white skin.

  He couldn’t have seen her eyes from that distance. Yet he remembered well their emerald-like brilliance and the way her long, black lashes framed them.

  Rachel could hardly have been more than nineteen years old on the day Leon fell in the well. Yet his mental vision of her was forever young. It seemed impossible that by now Rachel must be over forty.

  Had he told the earl how old Rachel would be today before sending him to Scotland? He hesitated in order to give himself time to think— perhaps not. To be honest, he couldn’t recall.

  But what did it matter? The earl would not have a hard time finding her. How many Rachel Aimees could there be in a little Scottish village like Luss?

  In the years since leaving France and settling in England, he’d learned to hate to an extent he never thought possible. Leon had always hated Jews and Huguenots. Now he hated all Christians. In fact, he hated religion in all its forms—except the craft, of course.

  Rachel and her husband, Javier Aimee, were Huguenots. But in England, they were called Protestants.

  The earl was a Protestant, as was the vicar, and everybody else Leon knew. All his so-called English “friends” were Protestants, and they all thought he liked and respected them.

  A smile that started in his mind melted into an audible laugh that echoed all around him.

  If his English friends knew how he really felt, they would be appalled.

  The first carriage pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. Shannon thought she could make out someone standing in a room on the top floor.

  “My lord, who is that?” Shannon pointed to the room in question.

  “What are you talking about?” the earl said. “I see no one.”

  “That woman with the long black hair—standing at the window. Surely you can see her.”

  “Perhaps you are imagining things, my dear. I would suggest you put it out of your mind. We will emerge from the carriage at any moment. You will need to prepare to exit it as soon as possible.”

  A woman with black hair stood at the window whether the earl noticed her or not. Shannon continued to gaze at the window.

  Another woman with yellow-colored hair joined the first woman at the window. Shannon glanced at the earl. He was studying his mansion with great intensity. Were they looking at the same window? If so, the earl knew that neither of the women were figments of Shannon’s imagination.

  The earl stepped out. But instead of going inside, he offered his hand as if to help someone down.

  Rachel. Excitement at the thought of seeing her again filled Leon’s mind. He thought of kissing her. But for now, he must stay hidden.

  A dainty hand reached out. The earl covered her hand with his.

  Leon saw a mass of auburn hair. All doubts vanished. She was Rachel.

  The woman who stepped down from the carriage looked young, shapely and beautiful. Leon released an audible sigh. The years hadn’t changed her.

  She wore a lavender dress and a bonnet of the same color. He would know her anywhere. But why hadn’t she aged in over twenty years?

  Thirsty for answers, he wanted to rush right over. But his sense of caution together with his physical condition made that desire impossible.

  Leon would wait until they went inside—until they had greeted the earl’s mother and grandmother. His heart pounded. Perhaps then he would pay the family a visit and see Rachel again. The earl had promised to send a letter telling when they would arrive. Yet Leon had received no such letter. As far as he knew, the earl’s family wasn’t notified either.

  Shannon stopped for a moment before moving down the rock path, staring at the stone mansion the earl called Gatehaven. The women were no longer standing at the window. Perhaps she had imagined them. Still, she didn’t think so.

  The sun hid behind the clouds when she studied Gatehaven the first time. Suddenly the sun beamed down on the mansion as if directing her to it—pointing the way. What a difference a bit of sunshine made, and how wonderful to have finally reached their destination.

  Other than the castles she’d observed from a distance on the journey from Scotland, she’d never seen a dwelling more magnificent. She hoped to remember every inch of it.

  Miss Foster, her chaperone, stood beside her. The woman cupped her hands like Shannon did when she planned to whisper something in someone’s ear. “I must relieve myself before going in to greet Lady Catherine and her mother. I will join you shortly inside.”

  Shannon nodded and forced a smile. She was eager to meet the earl’s mother, Lady Catherine, and his grandmother, Lady Victoria.

  She liked her chaperone well enough. Still, the woman’s strange behavior troubled Shannon. Miss Foster constantly discussed disturbing topics—like crystal balls and haunted castles, hinting that ghosts roamed the halls of Gatehaven as well. Shannon refused to believe such nonsense, of course, but the thought of it played on her mind.

  The earl touched her arm. “Are you ready to go inside?”

  Shannon looked up, and his warm smile engulfed her. “Yes, my lord, I most certainly am.”

  He loves me. How could I ever doubt it?

  She would remember that moment forever, the earl’s blue eyes and how his blond hair curled around the edges of his black hat. He offered her his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, and she took it.

  Shannon felt like a queen as he whisked her up the stone steps to a foyer that looked almost as large as her entire house. She glimpsed a white marble stairway before they entered a huge drawing room with its gold cornices above the windows and its flowing purple drapes. The earl had promised to write to his mother and his grandmother to announce their arrival, but from the astonished looks on the faces of the two women glaring at her, Shannon presumed that neither of them knew who she was nor why she came.

  The earl made some rather stiff introductions. Then he said, “Miss Aimee lives near our hunting lodge in Scotland, Mum, and she is here as my—my guest.” He gazed at her and smiled in that special way again. “I know having her here will brighten my days.”

  Two pairs of blue eyes stared at Shannon—the earl’s mother and grandmother, she assumed. A white cat purred at the feet of the older of the two, and the women looked astounded.

  Shannon needed Ian. Why didn’t he come inside when she did? And what was keeping her chaperone, Miss Foster? She should have tended to her private matters by now.

  The earl’s mother got up out of her chair. “I will ring for Millie and have her take Miss—Miss Aimee to her room. I am sure she will want to freshen up after her long journey.” She pulled a gold-colored cord that hung from the ceiling. Then she pulled it two more times.

  A young woman in a white maid’s cap rushed into the room.

  “You rang, ma’am?”

  “Yes. Please take Miss Aimee here to the room across from Maude’s and help her settle in.”

  With her flushed face and shaky hands, Shannon thought the maid looked as uncomfortable as she felt. Perhaps Millie had never been in the drawing room previously.

  “Sure and I will do as you say, ma’am,” Millie said with a Scottis
h accent. “But—”

  “But what? Speak up, girl.”

  “Are you sure you will be wantin’ me to take her to the room across from Maude’s—that being the maid’s quarters and all. I just thought—”

  “Yes. Take her to the room across from Maude’s. She will be comfortable there, and do hurry. I think the poor girl looks exhausted.”

  Shannon swallowed. She thinks the earl hired me as a maid. She glanced back at the earl, hoping he would explain her reason for being there. He started toward her.

  “No, Edward,” the older of the two women said. “You stay here. Your mother and I want to speak with you.”

  Shannon had no choice but to follow Millie out of the room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHANNON WENT OUT the door and turned toward the massive stairway she noticed when they came in.

  “No,” Millie said, “not that way.” She smiled. “Follow me. I’ll show ya where to go.”

  Shannon forced a smile. “Thank you. You are very kind. But what about my boxes and other belongings?”

  “Someone will be bringin’ them down to ya later.”

  Down? Down where?

  Doubts had been building since she entered the huge double doors of the mansion. Now a lump lodged in her throat, and she found it difficult to breathe. She would have screamed if she’d thought it would do any good.

  Millie led her through a maze of long halls to a huge kitchen. Servants were preparing a meal. Still, they took the time to smile when she came in.

  “Everybody be busy right now, miss, preparing for Tea Time,” Millie explained. “I’ll introduce you later.” She pointed to a corner of the room near a brick wall. “The stairs be right over there.”

  The stairwell looked dark. Shannon had always hated the unknown— now more than ever. She hesitated at the head of the stairs before going down. Obviously, it led to the basement of the mansion. This might be a good time to let out that scream she’d been holding in.

  “Have ya been working as a maid long?” Millie asked.

  Shannon stood at the top of the stairs, trembling internally and unable to move physically. Clearly, a terrible mistake was made. The earl would set things right. She merely needed to try to relax until he did. Nevertheless, she was beginning to wish she’d never left Scotland.

  “Well, have ya?” Millie said again in a friendly tone.

  “Have I what?”

  “Been working as a maid long.”

  “No. No, I have not. I—I came from Scotland, and I have never worked as a maid.”

  “Well, don’t let it worry ya none.” Millie motioned toward the dark stairwell as if she expected Shannon to go on down. “Maude and I be helping ya all we can. You can be sure of that, and I am so glad to hear ya came from Scotland. My family came from Scotland, too.”

  Shannon forced a smile and descended the stairs.

  Millie moved ahead and opened a door at the end of the long hall. “This room belongs to you now, Miss Aimee.” Millie motioned for Shannon to go in. “Your key, I believe.” Smiling, she handed her the key.

  The room looked extremely small—bare white walls, a narrow bed, and a chest of drawers. In one corner, she saw a table with a candle on it. Besides the candle, a high window over the bed gave the room its only light.

  Shannon went over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Then she looked away to keep from allowing her disappointment to show in her face.

  “Sure and I would like to stay and visit with ya for a while.” Millie leaned forward and ran the palm of her hand over the stiff quilt that covered the bed. “But I must be going now. Like I said, someone will bring your bags to your room soon.” She closed the door.

  “No, wait!”

  Shannon got up, opened the door, and peered down the hall. But Millie had disappeared—probably down one of the other long halls.

  She went back inside, slamming the door behind her. She’d wanted to tell Millie not to send her boxes and bags because she would be moving to another room. And she had so many questions she wanted answered. It would seem that it was too late to have Millie answer them —at least for now.

  Well, her belongings would simply have to be moved a second time.

  She sat back down on the small bed, crossing her arms across her chest.

  Where was the earl? He should have come to her rescue by now. She reached down with nervous fingers and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, pulling the pale gold material tight against her knees.

  Maybe the earl couldn’t find her. She was in the basement. Shannon had no choice but to wait until he finally came for her no matter how long it took.

  Ian shifted his weight from one leg to the other as a middle-aged gentleman with a limp made his way to the door of the mansion. Since they arrived, Ian had been standing behind the carriage that Shannon and the earl had traveled in, waiting to be told where to go. He still didn’t know a thing.

  He’d expected to stay in the vicar’s cottage. But where was it located? The earl had said that someone on his staff would direct him there. A tall and thin footman in a dark blue uniform stood a short distance away. Ian went over to speak to him.

  “I am a guest here and in need of a place to stay the night. Can you direct me to the vicar’s cottage? I was told that I would be staying there.”

  “I can direct you, all right, but Pastor Steen—he is gone.”

  “Gone? Where?”

  The footman shrugged his shoulders. “He got some bad news, I wager, and left the next day. I don’t expect him to return for at least a fortnight.”

  Now what should Ian do? Where should he go?

  The vicar wasn’t home, and Ian had never even met the man. To stay in the vicarage under those circumstances was unacceptable—at least as far as Ian was concerned.

  He’d promised his pastor before he left Scotland that he would try to solve the murder of his cousin, Magdalena Petit. But how could he keep that promise now? The vicar was away from the village of Fairs, and Ian had given his word that he would not discuss the murder with anyone but Pastor Steen.

  The footman cleared his throat, interrupting Ian’s thoughts. “I suppose it would be all right for you to stay in the guardhouse with the other guards.” Then he walked off before Ian learned the location of the guardhouse.

  He was beginning to wonder why he agreed to come to England in the first place. And where was Shannon’s brother? Shortly before they left Rosslyn, Peter had informed him that he planned to do a little investigating before leaving that village. He was especially interested in learning more about the chapel. But Ian had expected him to catch up with the caravan before they reached the earl’s estate. So far, he hadn’t.

  Leon Picard was led into the library instead of the drawing room as he’d expected.

  “The earl and his family are having a private conversation at the moment,” the butler had explained. “Please, wait here.”

  “Wait?” Leon’s jaw tightened.

  “Yes, sir. But the Earl of Northon should be with you shortly.”

  Outrageous! The earl owed him money, and Leon was in no mood to be put off.

  “Would you care for some tea, sir?” the butler asked.

  “No. That will not be necessary.”

  Leon glared at the butler as he turned and left the room.

  He settled into the earl’s favorite chair with its cushioned back and brown leather arms. The earl could sit in the chair facing him. He knew from experience that it wasn’t as comfortable. He grinned internally. It served him right.

  Peter Aimee guided his brown gelding to a slow trot and then to a full stop, exhausted physically and emotionally. If what he’d been told at the fork in the road was true, the earl’s estate was beyond the rise just ahead, and he’d pushed his horse hard to get there. He was eager to reach his destination, but he would never require an animal to go beyond its normal capabilities—a human either, for that matter.

  Peter had traveled a long way since leaving Rosslyn
, Scotland, and he’d learned a lot while he was there—information that he still didn’t want to believe. If true, some from Rosslyn were devil worshippers, and he’d seen the earl enter their meeting place with his own eyes.

  Still, the earl could have gone in by mistake. Peter almost went inside as well in order to see what went on there. But if his suspicions were true, Shannon could be in danger. He would have to tell Ian before it was too late.

  Leon had been reading from a book of poems for half an hour when the earl was finally announced. He put the book back on the shelf by his chair without looking up.

  “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  Leon sent the younger man a cold glance. “You should be.”

  The earl sat down. “It could not be avoided.”

  “So, what have you done to deserve the money I have been sending you for your journey to Scotland? The package I requested is in good condition, I presume.”

  “Excellent.” The earl reached for the snuffbox by his chair. “The young woman is in good spirits—and quite beautiful, I might add.” He opened the gold box and dabbed a bit of the white powder under his nose. “She thinks I love her and plan to marry her.”

  “She is certainly beautiful. But I would never call her young.”

  “She is nineteen, sir.”

  Leon froze. “What?” A sudden chest pain made it difficult for Leon to breathe. He covered the pain with his left hand, gripping the arm of the chair with his right.

  The earl shot out of his chair, reaching him in two steps. “Are you all right, Monsieur?”

  Leon swallowed. “I will be.”

  “Let me ring for my butler.”

  “That will not be necessary. I have had this previously.” Leon licked his dry lips. “If you would be so good as to hand me a glass of water.”

  “Of course.” He glanced around. “Oh, my. The water pitcher is empty. The butler will—”

  “Please retrieve the small box of pills in my vest pocket.”