Lord Melvedere's Ghost (15 page)

She
couldn’t see much of him in the darkness, but she could see that he
was wearing breeches much the same as Jamie’s, and a white shirt,
but other than that there was nothing about him that was
decipherable. She couldn’t see his hands and didn’t know if he had
one candle or two. If he had a candle, he was certainly keeping it
to himself because it might light his way, but it did little to
help eradicate the darkness around her.

“
Please, sir,” Cecily gasped, staring at the man’s shirt.
Something hit her head, and she instinctively cried out at the
blast of pain that lanced across her forehead. She paused for a
moment and fought the stomach churning sickness that made her
stomach turn over and the world swim alarmingly around her. Tears
pooled in her eyes and she wished fervently that she was downstairs
in Jamie’s study, preferably somewhere warm and safe, like in his
arms. Her head began to pound fiercely and she had to blink against
the swirling blackness.

Sucking
in a breath she felt the trickle of tears against her cheek and
glanced up to find the man standing sideways, apparently waiting
for her. She studied what she could see of his face, and judged him
to be tall and lithe, and somewhere round his mid-sixties. He
looked so much like an older version of Jamie that she wondered if
he was his father, but didn’t even know if Jamie’s father had
passed, or was still alive and kicking.

The man
made no attempt to talk to her or come back to assist her, and she
felt a bit annoyed at his clear unwillingness to do anything but
stand there.

Rubbing
her head, she winced when her fingers met a particularly sore spot
and rubbed her fingertips together, wincing at the sticky moisture
she felt.

“
Wonderful,” she whispered bleakly. Now she was going to have
to sit and chat with Jamie with her hair all mangled, messy and
covered in blood.

She
walked toward the man on knees that were all wobbly. Her eyes were
captured by the faintly flickering candle he was holding. It was a
candle, but then it wasn’t like any candle she had ever seen
before. Glancing frantically behind her, she could see nothing but
impenetrable blackness and started to wonder if she was going
quietly mad.

Turning
back to the man, her eyes locked on the gentle smile he gave her as
she cautiously approached him. Once she was several feet away, he
began to move onward, leaving her to follow. Several feet later, he
slowly began to go down some stairs. They were a bit like the
servants’ stairs she had seen on Doreen’s tour, only narrower. Each
time the man took a step, he held the candle aloft so Cecily could
see the stairs. With very little option, she followed him all the
way down until they were standing in yet another
corridor.

She was
really starting to hate corridors.

It
seemed to take an age but then it was no time at all before matters
took an even more confusing turn. They walked down another long
corridor for several moments, before the man drew to a stop, facing
away from her.

Her
heart began to pound heavily and she wondered what she was going to
do if he turned sinister or threatening. To her relief, he merely
moved sideways and nodded at the wall, giving her a gentle
smile.

Warily,
Cecily merely watched the man as he lifted the candle and pointed
to a small circular latch half way down the door. With a quiet nod
he turned and walked away – straight through the wall behind
him.

“
Oh, God,” Cecily whispered, her eyes growing wide with horror.
Turning toward the door he had just pointed to, she stumbled
forward, panic taking her in its firm grip. Fumbling with clumsy
fingers, she twisted the latch and pushed frantically for several
long seconds before she finally co-ordinated herself enough to push
the door open.

The
blessed sight of daylight temporarily blinded her, but was heaven
alongside the cool flow of fresh air that greeted her. It was
wonderful to be free at last and, for a moment, she simply stood
perfectly still, dragging in several deep gulps of air. A quiet
click behind her made her spin around, and she stared at the
trellis that was now covering the doorway.

Frowning
in consternation, she began to rummage through the roses to find
the latch. It wasn’t that she had any intention of going back into
that awful tunnel, but she wanted to know where the door was. For
some reason, she knew she needed to know how to get back
in.

After
several long moments, and many thorny scrapes later, she gave up.
The pounding in her head was so heavy now that she was starting to
feel sick again, and her fingers were shaking so badly that she
could hardly lift them to her face to stop the trickle of moisture
running down her cheek. She glanced down at her blood stained
fingers and tried to focus on them. Her eyes just didn’t seem able
to look at anything properly. The pounding in her head increased
and left her with little option but to lean her head against the
wall for a moment, and wonder if she was going to be sick in the
bushes.

“
Cecily?” Jamie went cold at the sight of the blood covering
one side of her face. From the unsteady way in which she was
weaving toward him, something, or someone, had attacked her. A
heavy surge of protectiveness swept through him and he lunged
forward to catch her when she threatened to topple onto her face.
“Cecily, what happened? Who did this to you?”

Cecily
glanced blearily up into his face and frowned. “Nobody,” she
whispered, shivering at the forbidding expression on his face. “I
hit my head on something.” She nodded toward the wall behind her
and winced as her head immediately protested.

Jamie
scowled at her, alarmed by her slurred words and the slightly vague
look on her face. Although her arms were scratched, there was
nothing around for her to hit herself on. “Where have you
been?”

His mind
raced. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny around them for any
sign of imminent danger. He had to get her inside now. Not only
because she looked like she might pass out at any moment, but she
was clearly not sure what had happened to her, and was in danger
being out in the open like this.

He
shouted for Potter to fetch a doctor and swept Cecily off her feet,
stalking toward the house. Shouldering open the door he ignored the
startled gasps of Mrs Nantwich, and Sophie, shouting orders as he
stalked through the house. He should take her to the safety of her
room but instead moved toward his study where he placed her
tenderly down onto the chaise before the fire. She was so very
cold, her lips were turning blue.

Throwing
several logs onto the fire, he poked the flames into a dull roar
before turning to study her. She was now sitting upright holding
her head in her hands. He didn’t need to study the gash on her head
closely to know that it was deep and still bleeding.

“
Where were you, Cecily? What happened, can you tell me?” His
gaze flicked to Jonathan, who came pounding through the door,
panting heavily. The dark scowl on his face landed on Cecily, and
he cursed at the bedraggled sight of her. “I’ll do a search,” he
snapped, bristling with fury as he stalked out. He wasn’t shy of
the sight of blood, but would rather leave women to men like Jamie.
He had no idea how to handle a distressed female. With a shudder
Jonathan disappeared into the dark recesses of the house, his eyes
scanning the area around him with ruthless
determination.

“
I was in the corridor,” Cecily whispered, wishing the pounding
in her head would stop so she could at least gather her thoughts.
“It was so very dark. I was following the man.”

“
Man?” Jamie snapped, frowning deeply as he placed a thick pad
of cloth Mrs Nantwich had arrived with, against Cecily’s head.
“What man?”

“
I saw a man in the corridor. I was lost and couldn’t find my
way out because it was dark. It was so cold,” Cecily whispered,
trying to recall the details of the man. “The man showed me the way
out.”

Jamie
frowned at Mrs Nantwich, who looked at Cecily with growing concern.
“Let’s get her upstairs, the doctor will be here soon.”

“
I am fine, really.”

“
You need that cut seeing to, darling,” Jamie murmured, easing
her into his arms and striding for the door. “Where were you in the
corridor?”

“
What?” Cecily asked, hating feeling so weak. She fought the
confusion to try to make sense of his words but failed.

“
Which room were you in downstairs?”

“
I was upstairs?” Cecily whispered, frowning in
consternation.

Jamie
was looking at her warily. Clearly the bump on the head had made
her muddled and while she was in this state, there was very little
chance of getting any accurate information from her. He cursed
himself for being stupid enough to consider, for one brief moment,
that they would be safe at Melvedere. Clearly they weren’t and,
whoever was responsible had taken advantage of Jamie’s arrogant
stupidity to try to take Cecily by knocking her over the head so
she wouldn’t put up a fight.

“
I’m sorry, Cecily, I have failed you,” Jamie murmured as he
deposited her carefully on the bed. He waited beside her for an
age, watching her sleep. She was so lifeless. The mere sight of her
lying so still filled him with an awful sense of dread that made
him want to put his own head in his hands. He was pacing up and
down restlessly before the fire when the scuffle of footsteps at
the door heralded the arrival of a heavily panting doctor, who
nodded briskly at Jamie before ushering him out of the
door.

Dr
Richardson had been the family doctor since Jamie was a young
child, and was about the only man Jamie would leave in a room alone
with Cecily. Cursing fluidly, he used the time that Dr Richardson
was tending to Cecily, to find Jonathan, and agree on what they
were going to do now.

Cecily
was back in the corridor, but it was dark, then light, then dark.
Shadows swirled and collided as she pushed against the walls but
couldn’t get out. Books were everywhere, piles and piles of them.
Twisting this way and that, she frantically tried to stop them
moving but couldn’t grab hold of them.

With a
gasp she woke with a jerk, bathed in sweat. The heavy throbbing in
her head had reduced to a dull thud which was much more bearable,
but she was now so incredibly thirsty. Shivering against the cool
night air, she blinked the last vestiges of sleep out of her eyes
and sat up.

She
froze.

Her
breath fogged out before her. She turned slowly to face the bottom
of the bed.

There,
standing at the foot of the bed, still holding his candle, was the
man out of the corridor.

Cecily
swallowed and stared at him. The room around them dimmed to the far
recesses of her consciousness. She watched as the man nodded once
and smiled at her before moving backward toward the far corner of
the room. Once there, he turned and walked into the wall. The
gentle click of a door closing sounded like gunfire in the silence
of the room and jerked her out of her stunned disbelief.

The man
had walked through the wall, he hadn’t used the door.

Her skin
tingled, and she physically shook with the need to do something,
but she was unable to do anything but sit there and try to absorb
what she had just witnessed. She was aware of the room slowly
growing warmer, and wondered if the knock on the head had been
harder than she had realised. But, she reasoned, she hadn’t had the
knock on the head when she had seen the man for the first time. If
it wasn’t for him, she would probably still be wandering aimlessly
around that awful corridor, destined never to see daylight
again.

Shaken,
she was grateful to whoever had been blessed with the foresight to
place a glass of water beside the bed. With trembling fingers she
took a sip, one eye cautiously but firmly locked upon the far wall
of her bedroom.

Unable
to find the courage to leave the bed, she slowly lay back down and
stared blankly up at the canopy. Sleep would definitely elude her
now, but there was little she could do about it.

Cecily
slept far longer than she ought. Morning sunshine was streaming
through the windows again when she sluggishly rolled over in bed
the following day. The heavy pounding in her head had retreated to
a very dull throb that was considerably more bearable. Her stomach
rumbled hungrily at the lack of evening meal, but at least she had
managed to fall asleep after the strange events last night. In
fact, she couldn’t remember staring at the canopy for long. Had it
all been a dream?

Cautiously pushing herself to sit on the side of the bed, she
rose and studied the corner of her room carefully. Apart from her
hunger, she felt far better than she thought she would. All adverse
effects from yesterday’s adventure were now gone, if not yet
forgotten.

Had she
dreamt it all? Was her wayward imagination getting away with her?
She knew she hadn’t imagined the corridor, but had she imagined the
man? Had fear triggered something within her that had latched on to
an imaginary helper? She couldn’t be sure but that didn’t explain
why her imaginary helper woke her up in the middle of the night to
show her he could walk through walls. Or had he?