The Silent Touch of Shadows (2 page)

‘Mum, look, isn’t this huge?’ She was obviously impressed enough to have forgotten to sulk and her honey-brown eyes opened wide as she took in the generous proportions of the room. Her winter jacket had been flung onto the floor and Melissa bent to pick it up, her reaction automatic.

‘It used to be the great hall when the house was first built some time in the fifteenth century,’ Dorothy told her. ‘If you think it’s huge now, you should have seen it back then – open all the way up to the ceiling. If you go up into the attic you can still see the soot from the cooking fire on the roof beams, left over from before they constructed this fireplace.’ Dorothy pointed to an enormous inglenook, which took up more than half a wall.

Melissa closed her eyes and was shocked at the detailed picture that formed in her mind. She could see the big hall clearly, including the massive ceiling rafters, the benches along the walls and even the haze of smoke from the central hearth drifting upwards to a hole in the ceiling. At either end she glimpsed doorways leading to storage rooms and steps up to small private sleeping chambers above. The sounds of
feet scraping on the floor and the barking of dogs assailed her.

A voice came out of nowhere, calling for ale, but the man spoke with an unfamiliar dialect which made Melissa wonder where he might come from. There were candles burning in sconces set at intervals along the walls, and their distinctive smell caused Melissa to wrinkle her nose. They cast their flickering light over floorboards that weren’t very clean, and in one corner a couple of dogs were fighting over a bone.

When Melissa inhaled sharply, the stench of unwashed humans and cooking clogged her nose and throat. It made her gag in disgust and she blinked, shaking her head to clear the images away. She looked around the room for the source of the voice, but there was no one there now except Dorothy and Jolie. They were still talking and didn’t look as though they’d heard or seen anything unusual. Completely disorientated, Melissa stumbled after the others when they moved on.

‘The whole of the first floor was created later to make space for more bedrooms,’ Dorothy was saying, ‘and an extension added in the seventeenth century made the house L-shaped.’ The old lady was obviously very proud of her home and Melissa dutifully admired everything that was pointed out to her. She had no trouble making the right noises; it really was beautiful and just the sort of house she would have liked for herself. She’d been fascinated by history for as long as she could remember, so to her, living in a building this old would be paradise.

To her relief, Jolie was becoming more animated by the minute and showed great interest in what Dorothy told them.

‘So this house is six hundred years old?’ Jolie said. ‘
Six hundred
is, like,
ancient
.’

Dorothy chuckled at her expression. ‘Yes, you’ll get used to the idea. Isn’t it nice to know that it was built to last? Just think how many storms it must have weathered. I always feel so safe here.’

Jolie nodded, but Melissa shivered involuntarily as she thought of all that must have happened during the past six centuries. Births, deaths, marriages, the house had seen them all. Laughter, sadness, love,
grief
 
… As the others moved on again, a gut-wrenching sadness overwhelmed her without warning and made her gasp out loud. She wanted to curl up on the floor and howl with some dimly remembered pain. When she followed this instinct and doubled over, clutching at her clenched stomach muscles, the emotion disappeared as quickly as it had come. Melissa straightened up and took in a shuddering breath.

What on earth is the matter with me?

She felt suddenly cold and glanced over her shoulder, but there was nothing. She shook her head at her own stupidity and hurried to catch up with the others before any more strange things happened.

‘I’m so pleased you could come. I’ve been meaning to contact you ever since I found out that both your mother and grandmother had passed away,’ Dorothy said. ‘But my beloved husband, Charles, also died last year and it’s taken me a while to come to terms with that.’

They were having a chat by the fire in the sitting room and Melissa felt herself relax into the deep armchair. Entering the room for a second time, she’d been relieved not to experience any more strange sights or sounds. She put the unusual images down to an overactive imagination. It was a very old house after all.

‘Of course,’ she said now. ‘Grief isn’t easy to cope with. When I lost mum I found it so hard to accept. She was the only one I had left, apart from Jolie, of course.’

‘Yes, and what a terrible shame, dying so young. Cancer is a dreadful disease.’

Melissa nodded. It wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on. She still couldn’t quite grasp that her mother was really gone. ‘I have to admit your call came as quite a surprise. Grandma hardly ever spoke of you and I didn’t expect to hear from you.’

Melissa hadn’t even known of Dorothy’s existence until she began to trace her family tree and started asking questions, but she thought it best not to mention that. When pressed as to the reason for this estrangement, her mother had told her Dorothy wanted no contact with their part of the family and then muttered something about ‘letting sleeping dogs lie’. This was intriguing and Melissa hoped she would finally get some answers.

‘Oh, it was all so silly.’ Dorothy shrugged. ‘Ruth and I had an argument and we were both very stubborn. The years went by and before we knew it, it was too late to patch things up. It was just one of those things, but it’s all in the past now. It needn’t concern us.’

Melissa felt sure there must have been more to it than that, but before she could ask Dorothy for details, the old lady changed the subject.

‘So what is it you do exactly? I gather you’re divorced, so presumably you work, at least part time?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I’m a professional genealogist. I prepare family trees for private clients and I also do freelance jobs for several law firms, helping them to find people mentioned in wills. Some of the work can be done from home, which makes it ideal for me.’

‘Sounds fascinating.’ Dorothy looked as though she meant it and Melissa was just about to tell her more when they were interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming. The noise made Melissa’s stomach muscles clench with sudden anxiety. She was still trying to puzzle out this irrational reaction when, seconds later, Jolie burst into the sitting room, closely followed by a panting Russ. They were both oblivious to the trail of mud behind them as Jolie rushed to her mother’s side and Russ trotted over to lie down on a little dog bed next to Dorothy, looking tired but happy. Melissa cringed and tried in vain to signal to her daughter, but Dorothy made no comment.

‘Mum, you won’t believe it. There’s a swimming pool outside. A huge one!’ Jolie turned to Dorothy. ‘Can I go for a swim, please?’

‘In February? Goodness, no, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until May at least,’ Dorothy laughed. ‘I can’t afford to heat that monstrosity.’

‘Oh.’ Jolie looked disappointed, then brightened up again. ‘So can we come back in May, Mum?’

‘Perhaps you should just wait to be
invited
back?’ Melissa replied pointedly, and shook her head at Jolie.

‘Oh, yeah, right.’ Jolie flung herself into a deep armchair near the fireplace and stared into the flames.

Melissa sighed inwardly, but at least Jolie seemed to have forgotten that she didn’t want to spend the weekend in the country ‘with a stuffy old aunt’. She’d gone off to explore the enormous garden of the manor house with her canine companion, eyes sparkling with excitement.

‘Of course you’re welcome any time, dear.’ Dorothy stood up. ‘Now I expect you’re thirsty after all that exercise. I’ll get you some squash, shall I? And some biscuits, perhaps? You youngsters are always hungry, I understand.’

‘Er, do you have Coke?’ Jolie looked mildly offended to be offered a drink she considered fit only for babies.

‘I’m sure Jolie could find her way to the kitchen to fetch something for herself,’ Melissa protested. Since her divorce from Jolie’s dad the previous year, she’d been trying hard to make her daughter more self-reliant. ‘And water is fine, thank you.’

‘No, no, it’s no bother. I shan’t be a moment and I’ll see what I can find.’

‘Great, thanks.’ Jolie nodded and, as soon as Dorothy had left, she whispered, ‘Your aunt is really nice, Mum, I like her. And I like this house, too.’

‘Great-aunt,’ Melissa corrected automatically, ‘and yes, I think I like her, too.’ She felt it was early days yet and she didn’t really know Dorothy well enough, but at least they had made a start. ‘She might like you better if you take your shoes off next time you come in from the garden, though.’ She glanced at the rapidly drying mud on the carpet.

‘Oops.’ Jolie grinned and Melissa couldn’t help but smile back.

She shook her head at her daughter. ‘You’re impossible.’

‘But you love me anyway,’ Jolie shot back with a cheeky grin, her red curls bouncing. Her hair was of a particularly vivid shade of red, unlike Melissa’s own which was more a warm auburn.

‘Hmm,’ Melissa said, but they both knew she found it hard to be stern and she loved Jolie to bits.

She took a deep breath and tried to relax again, soothed by the peaceful setting. It really was an amazing house, she had to agree, although a slight feeling of unease still lingered in her mind. ‘It must be wonderful to live here,’ she said, ignoring a little voice inside her which insisted that somehow she knew exactly what it was like. ‘Aunt Dorothy is a lucky woman.’

As she prepared for bed that night in the guest room she was sharing with Jolie, Melissa thought about the odd sensations she’d been experiencing all day. Was she just imagining things, affected by the unusual surroundings? If not, what else could be causing them?

Dorothy had confirmed that neither Melissa, nor her parents, had ever visited Ashleigh, so she definitely couldn’t have any real memories of the place. There must be another explanation. Had her grandmother told her tales of the house when she was a little girl, perhaps? But she couldn’t recall Grandma ever doing anything except tell her not to put her sticky fingers on her furniture.

It was a mystery.

With a sigh, she crept into bed and listened to Jolie’s soft breathing. She was glad now that her daughter had insisted they share, even though Dorothy had offered them a room each.

‘I’d rather stay with you, Mum,’ Jolie had whispered. ‘Just this first time.’ Melissa knew what she meant as waking up in strange surroundings was always daunting.

She closed her eyes and as she drifted off to sleep her mind filled once more with bewildering images. Images that teased at her brain, tantalising, beckoning her. Melissa concentrated hard. She wanted to remember more, much more, but someone was calling her
 
…

Chapter Two

Ashleigh Manor, Kent – 1460

‘You are to return by this afternoon or I’ll fetch you myself, girl!’

Her father’s bellow echoed through the hall as Sibell scurried to the door. She bit back a sharp retort while fumbling with the latch in her haste to escape his presence. ‘Girl’ he called her, even though she was a woman grown and a widow to boot. Not that it made a difference to him, she thought, she was still his chattel to dispose of as he wished. She gritted her teeth in frustration and a sigh of relief hissed out of her as she finally slammed the sturdy front door shut.

For the moment, at least, she was safe.

‘Freedom!’ The very word was an exclamation of joy. Although she only dared whisper it, Sibell savoured the feel of it on her tongue. She gulped in huge
lungfuls
of the clean, sweet country air, and revelled in the warmth spread over her face by the late February sun. Its feeble rays caressed the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and probably highlighted the pallor of her translucent skin. Forgetting herself, she laughed out loud with sheer pleasure, then clapped a hand over her mouth. She glanced back towards the house in fear and froze for an instant.

All remained quiet. No one had heard.

Sibell set off towards the lane at a brisk walk, but soon had to slow down. Three days with only meagre rations of food had sapped her energy and she was still sore from the beating she’d received before being locked in. Out of sight of the house she stopped to catch her breath for a moment before continuing. The track, which passed for a road in this part of the world, was unbelievably muddy. Sibell’s wooden
pattens
made a slurping noise for each step she took, and became heavier by the minute as the thick substance stuck to the soles. Normally she would have ridden her docile mare, as befitted a lady, but this luxury had been denied her today since she was in deep disgrace.

She had to reach her destination.
It’s my only hope.
This thought spurred her on and after a quick glance over her shoulder, she began to trudge along the lane.

‘Your pardon, mistress, but could you direct us to the manor of Idenhurst, please?’

The question, although civil enough and asked in a reasonable tone of voice, made Sibell jump. Her euphoria at being outside the confines of her chamber evaporated in an instant as she became aware of two horsemen who had halted just beside her. They were staring down at her from the intimidating height of their steeds. How could she possibly have missed hearing the approach of two riders? These were dangerous times and she needed her wits about her. She scanned her surroundings surreptitiously, but there was no one within sight who could come to her aid.