Haunting Secrets (4 page)

Jonathan shrugged. “Call me foolish, but I’d like to believe it’s there hidden on that island, and a Goddess of Love and Beauty will remove the island’s curse.” His tone firmed with emotion.

Victoria hesitated to comment. His remarks made him sound youthful. Perhaps that’s what made this man different. Yet men with worse faults married and raised families.

She wouldn’t judge until she knew him better.

When they resumed their stroll, the wind teased his hair, lifting it off his collar. The smile remained on his face, as did the excitement dancing in his eyes. It was easy to talk to him. Thus far, anyway.

“Mr. Maitland…” She hesitated. Did she dare speak what was on her mind?

“Please, call me Jonathan. Calling me Mr. Maitland sounds like you’re talking to my brother, Roderick.”

“As you wish, and you may call me Victoria.”

He smiled wide. “I would love to.”

Deciding to put her father’s death aside, she switched topics. “So, Jonathan, tell me about the rumors I’ve heard, and of the East Wing Ghost. What sort of old wives’ tale is this?”

He glanced down at her with wide eyes. “You believe it to be a mere tale?”

“Certainly. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

He shook his head and tightened the grip on her hand. “Ah, my dear. You would do well to believe the rumors.”

Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “You cannot tell me there is a ghost living in your manor.”

“But there is, Victoria. He doesn’t come out every night. But when the moon is full and there’s a chill in the air, he’s there.”

She stopped and tilted her head, keeping his gaze with hers. “Who is he? Your brother? The one who died in the fire?”

“Yes. Justin.”

“And you can see him?”

“Oh, no. He doesn’t make himself known. But you can feel him there. You can hear him. Every so often you’ll hear him playing the organ.” He shrugged. “And we don’t have an organ. It, too, burned in the fire.”

“So I’m told,” she muttered. She pulled her hand away and folded her arms. “Jonathan, it’s hard to believe a ghost plays an invisible organ at night.”

“You don’t understand. My brother stays in the East Wing, hoping to become mortal someday. He loves music. We mustn’t disrupt the artist while he’s composing.”

Victoria clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth. Jonathan sounded absurd. Who in their right mind would believe such nonsense? From his narrowed eyes and tight lips, Jonathan evidently did. Perhaps he wasn’t in his right mind at all.

“Come.” He hooked his arm around her elbow and turned them back toward the house. “The wind is picking up, and I fear you’ll be chilled to the bones. I would hate to have my brother box my ears for not caring for your tender sensibilities.”

Tender sensibilities my eye.
He merely wanted a reason to change the subject.

              She’d go along with his plan and see where it led.

* * * *

              Night had fallen over the household and with it Victoria’s exhaustion due to the day’s excitements, hit her like a boulder. Her body sagged as she stepped into her room and closed the door. Plans had not gone according to Jonathan’s schedules. The weather had turned chilly, so he’d called off the ride around the estate. Roderick and Bethany occupied her time after that. Mostly Roderick.

Victoria didn’t know what bothered her about that man, other than he was being unfaithful to his wife. His gaze always followed Victoria, and it seemed he had to be by her side constantly. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen earlier today. Bethany and Jonathan must think Roderick’s behavior normal because they hadn’t commented on it.

              A knock on her bedroom door made Victoria jump. “Who is it?”

              “Francine.”

Victoria released a pent up breath. “Come in.”

Her maid bustled in. “I’m here to get you ready for bed.”

Eager to crawl between the blankets and snuggle against the pillows, Victoria hurriedly undressed. While Francine brushed Victoria’s hair, the maid babbled about the friends she’d met in the Maitland’s staff.

“Although they are very kind, I fear they are keeping secrets,” the maid said.

Victoria yawned. “What secrets, do you think?”
              “Well, there was no mention of the East Wing ghost, but instead they talked about the cursed white wolf that roams the land.”

Arching an eyebrow, Victoria met her maid’s gaze in the vanity mirror. “A white wolf? Are you certain they didn’t mean wild dogs?”
              “No dog, Miss Victoria. They definitely said white wolf—and said he was cursed.”

“Hmm, I wonder if the wolf and the ghost share tea every evening. Do they meet on the cursed island, as well?”

Francine snickered. “Your sarcasm is not becoming, Miss Victoria.”

Victoria laughed. “Forgive me. I’m tired.”

“I believe the servants,” Francine continued. “They say every full moon the white wolf comes out of hiding and feeds upon the innocent.”

Victoria scrunched her forehead. “Feeds upon the
innocent
? What does that mean? And how does the wolf know if a person is innocent or not? Does he ask them before he kills and eats them?”

“It’s rumored that the wolf only kills virgin women.”

“Once again, Francine. How does the wolf know they are virgins?” Victoria rubbed her forehead. “Oh, why must you believe these stories? Haven’t you stopped to think the others are telling you this to frighten you?”

“
Oui
.” Francine stopped the brush in mid-stroke and leaned closer to Victoria’s ear. “Why, and for what purpose? Why would they wish to scare us away?”

“Why, indeed.” Victoria tapped her finger on her chin. “I think they’re creating these stories to cover the truth.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know, but I
will
find out.”

“How?”

Victoria shrugged. “That’s a good question, one I will ponder tomorrow.” She exhaled slowly. “Because tonight I plan to rest.”

Francine placed the brush on the vanity table and turned toward the door. “I shall be in my room if you need me.”

“Good night, Francine. Please lock your door.” Victoria tried not to grin. “With the roaming wolf who seduces virgins and musical ghost, I’m quite certain you’ll need as much protection as you can get.”

Francine shook her head and hurried out of the room. Victoria chuckled as she pulled back the blankets and slipped between the sheets. After switching off the lamp, she thumped her fist into the pillow and curled on her side. What she needed was a couple hours sleep if she intended to search through the house tonight. Although she didn’t believe these ridiculous ghost stories, there was still something not quite right in the manor.

Just as her body relaxed, the floor creaked. She snapped her eyes open to cloaking darkness.

She pulled the sheet to her neck. Soft noises shuffled in the room against the far wall. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her breathing became ragged.

Straining, she cocked her head toward the noise, but heard nothing more. She rubbed her eyes and tightened the sheet around her before curling back under the covers. Fear threatened to close her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on her surroundings. She should really pull on her wrapper and investigate, but she didn’t dare. Not yet.

She rolled in bed and peered toward the window. The moonlight peeked through the slit in the curtains, but did little to brighten the room.

So intent on listening, her forehead pounded in a quick rhythm. She breathed a deep sigh, rotated her shoulders, and once more closed her eyes. Old homes settled and groaned, and certainly the manor was no different.

The floor creaked again and she stiffened.

Heavy breathing floated through the air. She focused on the dark shadows playing marionette with her sanity. Someone was in her room. But how? Her gaze darted to the closed door. Nobody had entered or she would have heard.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a tall shadow appeared at the foot of her bed. She managed to discern someone dressed in a cape with a hood pulled low to hide their identity. A man, she assumed, with wide shoulders. Darkness covered his face.

Was this the ghost Mrs. White had spoken of?

She wanted to scream, but fear kept her mute. Should she lie still and pray he’d disappear?

The stranger’s breathing grew heavier, as did her own. The figure didn’t move. Building the courage she needed to scream, she opened her mouth, but the caped figure held up his hand, his finger pointing at her.

“You’re in danger here. You must leave.”

* * * *

Justin clutched his cloak tightly around him. Although Victoria’s room remained dark, he guarded his face to protect his very existence.

Night and darkness were his sanctuaries. While the household slept, he wandered the halls and grounds at his own leisure. Never did he leave without his cloak in case someone spotted him. Thankfully, the fools working for his family believed in the East Wing Ghost.

Earlier, when Justin awoke from his deep sleep, Jonathan’s beautiful visitor had popped into his mind. When he’d first laid eyes on her this morning, his heartbeat had knocked against his chest and the walls built up around his heart began to crumble. Fear for her life hung heavy on his conscience. He needed to warn her. 

“Danger awaits you here. Do not stay another night.”

He stepped toward the door to leave, but the woman sprang upright in bed.

“Wait!” She reached out her hand toward him before withdrawing it. “Who—who—are you?” Her voice shook.

Silence stretched from seconds into minutes. Justin had no desire to carry on a conversation. Wasn’t it enough he’d come to warn her? Of course, she had no idea what he risked by coming to her room.

“Who I am is not your concern.” He kept his voice low.

“It is when you’ve served me with a warning.”

He shook his head. Brave woman. That could be a dangerous thing to have living under Roderick’s roof. Yet her courage surprised him. It also softened his heart a touch.

Mischief surrounded women like Miss Fawson, and that kind of female also needed protection. “Just know I want to see you safe, which is why you must leave.”

“Do—do I know you?”

He wouldn’t tell her he knew her father. It would certainly complicate matters. “No.”

“Then why—”

“Please, Miss Fawson. There’s no time to answer your questions. Heed my warning. You’re not safe in this house.” He stepped to the door and hurried out, his cloak whipping around him.

At the end of the hall, he turned the corner and plastered himself against the wall. He held his breath and listened for her footsteps. She’d dared talk to him without knowing his identity, so she’d more than likely dare to follow.

That, he could not allow.

He waited a few more minutes, his chest rising and falling with each hurried breath. Thankfully, the pitter-patter of bare feet didn’t echo on the hardwood floor. He must have frightened the woman enough to keep her in bed.

As she should.

He turned and made his way toward his chambers. As he neared one of the servants’ rooms, a noise stopped him in his tracks. Giggling on the other side of the door brought him alert.

Curses! He needed to hide.

Quickly.

The linen closet was his nearest choice. He had barely closed himself inside when the door to the servant’s quarters opened. Shelves dug into his back and shoulders, the walls cramped around him. He shifted his position carefully.

The woman’s giggling grew louder, as did a man’s deep chuckle. “Promise you’ll return tomorrow night,” the sultry female voice said.

“I promise, my dear Sarah.”

Justin cracked the door and peeked outside. In the darkened hallway stood two figures. One of them very familiar.

Justin clenched his jaw. Roderick was at it again. When would the fool learn not to carry on with the hired help? Didn’t the man know what Bethany would do if she discovered his improprieties?

              Roderick yanked Sarah into his arms, and kissed her soundly. She let out a heavy sigh and smiled.

Roderick withdrew. “Pleasant dreams, my sweet.”

She released a throaty purr and waggled her fingers. “You have already made them come true.” She stepped back inside her room and pulled the door closed.

Roderick tightened his robe around his waist and secured it with a tie before he hurried down the hallway toward his own bedchambers.

Justin shook his head. It appears Sarah was playing her old games with Roderick. Was she trying to blackmail his brother, just as she’d tried with Justin a year ago? Foolish woman. Yet, women like that were dangerous. He knew first hand.

He also knew his brother played games with Sarah. Earlier today while watching Victoria and Jonathan take a stroll outside, Justin witnessed Roderick taking another maid—Anne Shultz, the cook’s helper—out behind the stables for a moment of intimate privacy. It looked as if Roderick was making his way through all the female staff.

Once silence filled the corridor, Justin left the linen closet and rushed to his private domain. When he secured the door behind him, he breathed a relieved sigh. Everything had gone well tonight.

So far.

He’d done his good deed for the day. Hopefully, the pretty Miss Fawson would heed his warning.

He yanked off his cloak and hung it on the hook by the door. Although Roderick had almost caught him, Justin’s visit to Miss Fawson’s room had been necessary. Now he could relax in the knowledge he might have saved another innocent girl from his brother’s selfish clutches, and from a possible early death.

Maybe now, he could concentrate on his newest piece of music. The ballad had been forming in his mind for quite a while. For some reason, writing it on paper had been harder than he’d first thought.

He craned his neck as he loosened his cravat and yanked it off. He shrugged off his waistcoat and replaced it with his velvet jacket. The reason for him to dress up to impress no longer existed, but he wanted to be part of the living. Since his semi-death, he hadn’t felt that way.

That day could have been yesterday, he remembered it so well.