Lady of Heaven (5 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Heaven’s Gate
Manor was an Elizabethan jewel on the outside, but inside, it hadn’t made it
past the turn of the century.  It was a decaying corpse, forgotten by time.

Everything was
extremely outdated, bathrooms and kitchen included. Fox found that out when
they returned from Bromley Cross and he used the toilet, because the entire
bathroom and its fixtures were something that belonged in a museum. The toilet
had a big overhead reservoir and it was flushed with an old-fashion chain pull.
The pipes rattled and groaned when the toilet flushed and Fox beat a hasty
retreat from the bathroom before the entire room collapsed around him.

Morgan was
waiting for him when he emerged.  She had removed the Wellies and the raincoat,
and was dressed in the clinging gray sweater and jeans he had seen her in
earlier.  As he approached from the hall, it was a struggle not to stare at her
figure; she had magnificent breasts beneath the sweater and a narrow waist,
flaring into womanly hips.  All in all, she was completely his taste, not a
board-flat skinny female, but a woman with curves and a narrow waist. She
looked like a goddess and he had to make a conscious effort not to gape at her.

She was fumbling
with her shoe when he walked up, grinning her dimpled grin when their eyes met.
“So the evil bathroom chased you out, did it?” she asked.

He scratched his
head, glancing back in the direction he had come from. “I thought the walls
were going to cave in.”

She laughed
softly. “I should have warned you,” she put her foot down and straightened up. 
“All of the plumbing in this place is from the turn of the century. It’s a
miracle it still works at all.”

He tore his eyes
away from her long enough to look around the main foyer, where they were
standing. “How big is this place?”

She followed his
gaze. “Fifty-nine rooms,” she told him. “Eight parlors, two dining rooms, a
kitchen, a billiard room, a library, a men’s club, a woman’s parlor, an east
tea room, a west tea room, a hunt room, a steam room, a gymnasium that’s
nothing like the gym you and I know, plus servants quarters,  thirteen
bedrooms, eighteen bathrooms, and a basement with a bunch of storage rooms.”

By the time she
was finished rattling off the stats, he was staring at her.  “Seriously?” he
wriggled his eyebrows, giving the foyer another look as he shoved his hands
into his pockets again. “This place is massive.”

She nodded.
“Massive and expensive,” she said as she gestured at a room to their right.  He
took the hint and followed her into a parlor furnished with furniture that had
to date back to the 1920’s. “I’d like you to take a look at some of the
Egyptian artifacts if you have the time.  Do you think the museum might be
interested in purchasing some of the pieces?”

He shrugged his
shoulders. “Maybe. I’ll have to see them first.”

She smiled. “I
can arrange that,” she replied as they passed through the antiquated formal
parlor and into another foyer that adjoined an enormous dining room. She
indicated the room around them. “I have no idea how Louis ran this place on his
limited income. Even though he’s titled, I think the family money ran out a
long time ago.  His bank accounts don’t have more than a few hundred dollars in
them. His caretaker told me that Louis had him take pieces of jewelry to pawn
shops in Manchester to help pay the upkeep. I can’t even imagine what priceless
pieces he pawned off just to eat and pay the electric bill.”

Fox was nodding
his head even before she finished her sentence.  “That’s an old story,” he told
her. “The deterioration of the British aristocracy is a sad tale.  My
grandparents and parents have suffered the same thing.”

She looked up at
him as they passed into the ornate, if not slightly run down, smaller foyer.
“You come from British nobility?”

He nodded. “My
father is Viscount Winterborne, a title that has been in my family since 1483. 
It was one of the very few titles bestowed by Richard III during his short
reign.   It’s something of an anomaly and one of the longest continuous titles
in England.  It’s never been out of the family since it was created.”

She lifted her
eyebrow, impressed. “Wow,” she said. “That’s pretty cool.  Will you inherit it
when your father dies?”

Again, he nodded.
“I will,” he replied. “And my son will inherit it from me.”

“How old is your
son?”

“I don’t have
one yet. But when I do, he will.”

She grinned.
“Pretty confident that you’ll have a boy one of these days, aren’t you? What
does your wife say about that?”

It was a leading
question, like the one he had given her, but his reaction was the same. He
couldn’t have cared less. “I don’t have one of those either,” he told her. “Do
you know where I might be able to find one?”

She laughed
heartily. “With your looks and education?  I’m sure you don’t have any trouble
impressing women.  In fact, I’d be willing to bet that they follow you around
by the truck load.”

He smiled,
humored by her laughter. “Not exactly truck loads,” he admitted, sobering. “But
I was almost married, once.  It just didn’t work out.”

She sobered because he was. “Sorry
to hear that,” she said, somewhat softer. “I was married for about four years.
That didn’t work out, either.”

He made a face as if in completely
sympathy. “And we’re so perfect, you and I,” he snorted. “What’s wrong with
these people?”

Her smile was back. “I wish I
knew.”

He cast a long
glance at her, returning her smile, feeling something magical spark between
them.  He made the decision then and there that he was going to milk his visit
for everything it was worth, up to and including getting kicked out because he
had stayed so long. But they passed into the dining room and his attention was
pulled off of Morgan by a woman approaching.  Laura Sherburn smiled brightly at
them with a mirror image of her daughter’s dimples, holding out her hand to
Fox.

“Dr. Henredon,”
she greeted. “I’m so glad you could join us for dinner.”

Fox shook the
woman’s soft hand; she faintly resembled her beauteous daughter, a small and
attractive woman.

“Thank you for
inviting me,” he replied. “It’s not often I am lucky enough to have a home
cooked meal.”

Laura laughed
softly; she was very social, very gracious. She indicated the far end of the
long and elaborate dining table where plates had been set out.

“Dinner is ready
so have a seat,” she told him.  “I will admit that cooking on that ancient
stove was something of a challenge. I hope everything turns out all right.”

“I’m sure it
will be wonderful.”

Laura
disappeared into the kitchen while Morgan called after her. “Do you need any
help, Mom?”

“No,” Laura
replied, banging around in the kitchen.  “You and Dr. Henredon have a seat.”

Morgan wriggled
her eyebrows at him. “Sit on this side of the table next to me,” she told him.
“I’ll go get the journal and you can read it while you eat.”

He looked
stricken. “So I can’t even enjoy my meal first before you’re putting me to
work?”

She laughed
softly. “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said. “I just meant that I’m sure your
time is limited so maybe you’ll want to get right to work.”

He lifted an
eyebrow at her, his black eyes glimmering with warmth. “I can spare all of the
time you need,” he told her. “I have no place else to go.”

The statement
had a double meaning; she sensed his interest in her as plainly as if he had
spelled it out. Truth was, she was growing interested in him, too.  She wanted
to know more about him.

Laura brought
out a lovely roast and the three of them sat down to feast.  While Laura and
Morgan enjoyed petite portions, Fox was polite with his portion control at
first until Laura insisted he have a second helping and then a third. When all over
and the battle damage tallied, Fox had eaten nearly three quarters of a very
good beef roast.  He’d also had more than a half bottle of red wine.  

The conversation
had been witty, light, and Fox had thoroughly enjoyed the company of Morgan and
her mother.  They were sweet, bright and fun.  He felt more comfortable with
these ladies in just an hour than he had with anyone, at any time, in his
life.  It was an oddly settled feeling, one he realized he loathed to lose.
He’d always heard that visions of Heaven were only fleeting; now he knew what
that meant.  He would be sorry to see this vision go.

Dinner
eventually ended and as Laura cleared away the dishes, Fox offered to help but
was quickly shut down.  He even handed her a plate, getting mildly scolded in
the process. Grinning, Morgan took Fox out of the dining room before he could
get into more trouble and escorted him down a labyrinth of dark, eerie halls until
they came to a set of double doors. The doors themselves were works of art,
carved and ornate, with lion’s head door knobs. As Fox inspected the brass
knob, Morgan shoved open the panels.

The smell of
smoke and tobacco hit him full-on. It was like one giant
whoosh
of air,
filled with untold centuries of men, secrets, books and conversations.  A
fairly large library opened up before him and Fox stood in the doorway for a
moment, drinking in the sight; books and trinkets lined every inch of wall
space from floor to ceiling, stuffed to the rafters with treasures. 

There was a loft
to his right, even more stuffed with clutter and books.  A small, iron spiral
stair case ran from a small alcove to the loft above.  Fox took a few steps
into the room, awed by the sight, as Morgan switched on a couple of old light
fixtures to brighten the place up.

“Welcome to the
heart of the Heaven’s Gate,” she said, a smile on her face. “Before we get to
the journal and the papyrus, I want to show you something that your museum
might be interested in.”

She went over to
the stair alcove, motioning for him to follow.  He obeyed, walking on her heels
and nearly running her over when she suddenly stopped.  He apologized, but he
really wasn’t sorry; it gave him a chance to touch her and he wasn’t sorry
about that at all. He just shrugged apologetically and she gave him a quirky
smile. But then she turned around and began to pull a table away from some
clutter against the wall.

Fox saw what she
was doing and he lent his considerable strength, easily pulling the table away
as several books fell off its surface.  The both bent over to pick up the
books, their hands brushing as he handed her the few he had collected. Morgan
felt the heat from his flesh, trying not to get too upswept by the fact that
she was quite attracted to the man.  All through dinner, he had been polite,
intelligent and hilarious. It was very endearing and if he had been trying to
impress her, it had worked. 

Putting the
books on the table, she picked her way among several items that were in a muss
upon the floor in her quest to reach the wall. There were two massive book
shelves and in between was a pile of clutter, stacked up against the wall,
covered with a sheet.  At least, Fox thought it was clutter until she removed
the sheet; suddenly, he found himself gazing at an Egyptian sarcophagus, the
vision of which could only be described as magnificent. 

The coffin was
at least six feet in length, a massive wooden thing that was covered in gold
foil and semi-precious stones.  There were some stones missing and it had a big
gash along the left side, but other than that, it was in pristine condition.
The design was classic Middle Kingdom, something wonderful and rare, and Fox’s
jaw dropped at the sight.  He very quickly moved up beside her to get a better
look it.

“Oh, my God,” he
breathed, visually inspecting the coffin before daring to put his fingers on
the gold and lapis lazuli. “Where in the hell did they get this?”

Morgan could
have stepped back to allow him better access to it, but she frankly didn’t want
to. She was rather enjoying the very close proximity of the man, smelling faint
whiffs of aftershave.  It was enough to set her heart thumping and she struggled
to keep her mind on the subject.

“My
great-grandfather kept very meticulous notes,” she replied. “According to the
records he kept, he purchased this in 1922 on their first trip to Egypt.  He
got it from a dealer in Cairo who was rumored to have gotten it on the black
market.  Louis bought it for Fanny but they were so afraid that the Egyptian
authorities would catch wind of it that they brought it back to England, put it
in the corner and covered it up. And here it has remained.”

Fox’s black eyes
glittered as he inspected the hieroglyphics on the cover. He turned his head
slightly, trying to get a better read of what it said.  The truth was that he
could hardly believe what he was seeing; such a relic was uncommon and
precious, especially in this day and age.  As Morgan stood so close to him that
he could smell her perfume, Fox carefully studied the text on the breast of the
coffin. 

“Is the mummy
still in it?” he asked.

“As far as I
know.”

Morgan waited
patiently as he inspected but she couldn’t tell by his expression what he
really thought of the piece.  After his initial surprise, he seemed rather
stone faced as he studied. Maybe he wasn’t as impressed as she thought. After
what seemed like a small eternity, she finally dared to speak.