Secret Reflection (13 page)

‘Certainly. Nonetheless, this mirror will be very useful for your searches. I can direct you in the passages, as well as other rooms in the master wing. You should keep this with you at all times.’

‘But that’d be stealing.’

‘Why ever do you believe that? This house, and everything in it, is my property.’

‘
Was
your property. It belongs to Tom and Nancy now.’

He appeared to sigh. ‘I expect you are correct. Nevertheless, this mirror will assist us. I am certain your friends will not take offence if you borrow it for the duration of our quest.’

Pursing her lips, she couldn’t deny it. She’d check with Nancy in the morning, although her reasons might be a little difficult to explain. She dearly wished she knew for certain whether her friends were involved in the hoax. Until she knew, she couldn’t dare share her suspicions, or tell them about her contact with John. In this she was alone, and would be until she found some kind of irrefutable proof that her phantom was an actor, or, though extremely unlikely, the real thing.

‘C’mon then,’ she said to the man in the mirror. ‘I really need to get some sleep. Maybe you should do the same.’

‘Alas, I cannot sleep. I fear I never will until I leave this dreaded place.’

Again, an unbidden spurt of compassion rose in her breast. She couldn’t imagine what a hundred and forty years of sleeplessness would be like – if, in fact, he told the truth.

She began the journey back to her room, feeling strangely comforted by his presence.

‘Tell me about the
“dreaded place”
where you exist. What is it like?’

‘Like? It is like nothing. I see outward and I feel my own person, but beyond that – nothing.’

She stopped walking. ‘How do you mean nothing? Is it hot or cold?’

‘I have discovered there is some difficulty in explaining nothingness. There is no sense of temperature other than the cold emptiness that exists within my heart. I can feel my own hand, but I cannot see it, or any other part of myself. All I can discern is what lies beyond the mirrors, which is like looking into a pond after the rain. Though I have a vague awareness of being, I do not know if I even resemble the man I was before becoming imprisoned.’

‘Well, that’s easy. I can see you. You are rather tall with dark hair to here.’ She gestured just below her ears. ‘You’re wearing black trousers and a flowing white shirt with lacy cuffs and you look very much like a pirate.’

She smiled at the mirror when he gave her a decidedly haughty stare.

‘I will have you know,
Madam
, that I have never, in all my days, engaged in any illegal activity!’ He paused for several slow beats, before his face fell and he whispered sadly, ‘That is if one does not include murder.’

Kelly didn’t get the opportunity to respond, an instant later the only face she saw in the hand mirror was her own. With a scowl at her own unexpected reflection she hopped over the low barrier that the painters had set in place.

As she turned the corner, a strange feeling of coldness came over her – a
frisson
of fear. She hurried along and all but ran the last few paces to her room. The candles snuffed out in the breeze that stirred when she swung her door wide.

Before she could even turn on the light, someone barged into her, knocking the breath from her lungs as she went sprawling back against the wall. The hand mirror crashed to the floor. Her own scream was almost drowned out by a wail of protest as the intruder pushed past her and out the door. It was a girl. Kelly stumbled after her to the stairs but stopped when the girl paused on the landing and turned to face her.

‘Deanna?’

‘Go back to America!’ Deanna snarled before bounding down the stairs and out of sight.

Stunned, Kelly turned back to her room and groped for the light switch. The hand mirror lay just inside her doorway; the cushioned backing had partly come away. With care she picked the mirror up and flipped it over, fearing the glass would be broken. She sighed with relief to see it still intact. Her own reflection greeted her – no sign of John. Again she turned it gently in the hope she could fix the backing, only to find a thin piece of parchment-like paper protruding from between the wadding and the frame. As carefully as she could, she slowly pried the yellowed paper out.

All thought of Deanna fled as she set the mirror aside and unfolded the sheet with a feeling of reverence. It looked old and the script appeared fancy as if written by a calligrapher. It was dated October 12, 1861.

Dear Mr. Ditchley
,

Sir, I have been keeping watch as you instructed and I regret to inform you that I suspect there is a misdeed afoot within your cousin’s house. Lord Stanthorpe and your good wife remain within, however, the viscount has dismissed all the servants, myself also, and will not permit anyone to enter the house. I have, on a number of occasions, sought to espy within to discover what is happening there, but all the windows are covered and all the doors are locked. In the evenings, only one lamp burns, in the master bedroom
.

I have hidden myself in the barn by the stables, and will remain to watch until you instruct otherwise
.

Ever your servant
,

William Plunket Esq
.

Kelly sat on the floor and studied the letter, reading it over and over. Could it be real? Or just another part of an elaborate set-up? After all, John had lured her out of the room to his mother’s suite. He’d suggested she take the mirror back to her room. Had he placed Deanna
there to wait for her return … bump into her, making certain to knock the mirror out of her hand and break? Ensuring the letter would protrude?

Apart from the bit with the letter, it would have been easy enough to orchestrate. Deanna could have slipped into her room once Kelly had left and simply awaited her return.

Picking up the mirror she again examined it. The glass still contained only her reflection. The back didn’t appear to hide anything other than cotton wadding but perhaps there was a transmitter of some sort … one that could project John’s image. She’d definitely have to get it looked at by a professional. The letter, too.

She went straight to the large mirror. ‘John? Can you hear me?’

Frustration rose within her as she waited for him to appear, but after several minutes she realised he would not. Perhaps it was for the best. Whatever she had planned to say wouldn’t have mattered anyway since he wasn’t
really
real. She wondered what it was that made her fall under his spell so easily, because again, back in the Dowager’s Suite she had come close to believing his outrageous tales.

But this proved it. It was definitely a hoax. She left the mirror face down on the writing desk and with a tired sigh, went to the bathroom and prepared for bed. Somehow she knew her phantom wouldn’t invade the privacy of her room tonight.

Of greater concern right now was what Deanna might have been doing in her room if not to deliberately crash into her and make her discover the note in the mirror? Kelly checked the bathroom and bedroom carefully. Nothing had been disturbed as far as she could tell. She spread her hand on the lid of the laptop but it was cool to the touch so Deanna mustn’t have been snooping there.

After discovering that there was no cash or cards missing from her purse, she could only surmise that the girl’s purpose had been as she’d first thought. A well-orchestrated stunt. Kelly smiled to herself. Deanna and her accomplices underestimated her.

Watching her sleep gave him pleasure. In many ways she reminded him of Elizabeth: she had a strength of spirit and a stubborn will yet her compassion was evident in every word and action, almost in spite of her disbelief. But she was coming around. He could tell by the look in her eyes when she didn’t guard herself too closely.

Though it was extreme folly to even think it, his mind played with the notion of courting her. Kelly. Not a name used for women of his own time, yet, the more he knew of her, the more it seemed to suit her personality. If they’d existed in the same world, he would have found it difficult to resist her charms – indeed, even as he watched her snore quietly with one hand curled beneath her delicate chin, he felt his body stirring in the age-old way.

Think of other things!

Clearly, whatever desire she sparked within him was just another of God’s punishments and he feared, with the trepidation of a man who had survived in utter loneliness for such a long time, that the attraction would render him destroyed before his eighteen days of hope passed.

When she had called his name before retiring, he suddenly understood the jeopardy. Unlike her predecessors, Kelly had the innate ability to make him feel, a circumstance from which he had been able to protect himself all these years. But the contrasts she presented him – strength versus vulnerability, compassion and disbelief – made it impossible to maintain the distance he had achieved with the others. Oh, yes, this would be his cousin’s ultimate victory.

Tired of his own melancholy, John decided to inspect the other rooms to be certain all remained as it should. He didn’t know why he even cared but as long as this netherworld continued to be his home, he felt compelled to watch over it and its occupants. He had been derelict with Elizabeth and he vowed he would never be so again.

Journal of Edward James Ditchley
,

Stanthorpe House, Oxfordshire, England
.

November 22, 1861

My Dearest One, I have won her over, though it galls me to marry again. No other woman could ever compare but our vengeance cannot be thwarted. At first she determined to resist my suit … but I made it impossible for her to refuse me
.

Please don’t be disappointed my love, that I am forced into actions you would deplore. Be assured, my darling one, I only do as is necessary. Anne has already forgiven my indiscretion. It took little persuasion to convince her that I was but overcome by great passion and therefore could not withhold myself from her charms. She understands the consequences of her actions and has agreed that her only recourse is to consent to marriage
.

Thus, my love, he is cuckolded as he cuckolded me! It gave me immense pleasure to see him thrash about his prison, impotent to prevent me stealing away his beloved’s virtue. I do not know which of them begged longest or loudest
.

’Tis said vengeance is a sweet meat, and, my darling, I must concur
.

Day Four

The tapping on the door startled Kelly awake. She brushed the dark hair from her eyes as she sat upright. ‘Who is it?’

The door opened a few inches.

‘Are you decent?’ Richard’s face appeared around the door.

‘Uh – actually, I’m still in bed,’ she answered.

The door swung wide and he grinned. He was dressed as if ready for the hunt, in jodhpurs and a red blazer. The only thing missing was the black hat.

‘Apologies for barging in unannounced,’ he said as he crossed the threshold, still holding a broad smile in place. ‘Thought it was about time you learned to ride. So,’ – he sat on the bed beside her as if he had every right to do so – ‘I’ve had a couple of our gentlest mares saddled.’

In the mirror behind him, she saw her own dishevelled reflection and shuddered. Mornings were definitely not her best time. And to make matters worse, John Tarrant suddenly materialised, arms crossed with an expression of disapproval, alongside Richard’s reflection.

She stared so long that Richard turned to look at what she found so interesting in the mirror. As his brows drew together into a perplexed frown, Kelly knew for a certainty that he could not see John, even though she saw him as clearly as if he stood in the room with them. The notion made her breath catch.
Is John really who he claims to be?

As Richard turned back to her she forced herself to concentrate on him. And reality. John had spoken of spells. Perhaps she was under some kind of spell herself. Or maybe she’d been drugged – it was the only explanation that made any kind of sense. She made a mental note to find a doctor when she went back to London and have some blood taken for testing. While she trusted Nancy and Tom not to drug her, the man sitting on the bed was an unknown quantity.

‘So – what do you say?’ He brandished a riding crop and tapped her gently on the tip of the nose. ‘Shall we ride?’

She jerked backward, feeling unaccountably violated. But it was the low growl from the man in the mirror that made Richard flinch. His head spun toward the mirror so fast he nearly slid off the edge of the bed.

‘Did you hear that?’ he exclaimed, all the colour draining from his face.

Her phantom grinned, a self-satisfied expression crossing his features.

Richard stood and hesitantly advanced on the mirror, but Kelly still felt certain that he saw nothing beyond the ordinary reflection of himself, her, and the room.

He turned to her. ‘Did you hear it?’

She couldn’t chance admitting anything, at least until she knew for sure.

‘What?’ she asked innocently.

John’s grin widened as Richard began to study the mirror and the walls either side of it. ‘A growling sound – I heard a growl.’

‘What … like a dog?’

He shook his head but his gaze remained fixed on the mirror. ‘No … definitely a man’s voice.’ Now he did face her, his cheeks still devoid of colour. ‘You didn’t hear anything? At all?’

She shrugged. ‘This house makes strange noises sometimes. I’ve learned to ignore them.’

Richard went back to his study of the mirror and wallpaper. He ducked to the side and tried to see beneath the mirror, and all the while John stood regal and smiling as if he found it an incredibly funny joke.

Kelly scowled at him. She didn’t know whether it was because she was convinced Richard couldn’t see John and she didn’t want to admit what it meant, or because she was so tempted to laugh at Richard herself and didn’t want to give John the satisfaction.

‘You know, of course, that it could have been the ghost,’ Richard said. After another moment he backed away from the mirror and returned his attention to Kelly. ‘Are you sure you didn’t hear it?’