Secret Reflection

5


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?’

Kelly replied with a non-committal lift of one shoulder.

‘I thought you were an investigative journalist?’ he said, almost as an accusation.

She drew herself up, stating in no uncertain terms, ‘I am.’

‘Then why are you ignoring these things? Aren’t you here to prove whether or not the ghost exists?’

John raised one winged brow in question and it took every ounce of her self-control not to react.

‘Yes, I am. But the evidence I’ve come across so far is pretty flimsy,’ she said, her eyes fixed on John. His other brow rose like the first. Then he smiled, as if she’d challenged him. He opened his mouth as if ready to speak and Kelly jumped up in alarm. The last thing she needed was for John to make Richard more suspicious.

‘Perhaps we should go riding another day?’ she offered as she took his arm and began manoeuvering him toward the door. ‘I’m probably still a bit jetlagged – maybe that’s why I didn’t hear it.’ She flashed him her most endearing smile. ‘I really am very tired and I feel a headache coming on. I think I should go back to bed for a while.’

Richard gave her a skeptical look and then glanced over her shoulder at the mirror. ‘Are you sure you want to stay in this room? After what I just heard, I’d recommend another.’

‘I don’t see why,’ she replied, gently nudging him through the portal. ‘I’m quite safe. And if what you heard is true, it seems to me to be the best place to investigate.’

‘Maybe but …’ he let his words trail off.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she reassured, escorting him to the stairs. ‘Why don’t you call tomorrow about that riding lesson.’

‘I shall. And don’t forget, we have a dinner rendezvous on Friday evening.’

Still as white as a sheet, he gave her a half-hearted wave and started down the stairs. Kelly had the distinct impression that he was utterly terrified.

As she watched Richard descend she hesitated, gnawing on her upper lip … she had planned to question him about Deanna’s intrusion last night but with his reaction to John, it had completely slipped her mind. She’d just have to broach the subject on Friday during dinner.

When she felt certain Richard had left the house she returned to her room and stood, arms akimbo, and stared at the man in the mirror.

‘Why does it seem like you actually enjoyed that?’

The smile he flashed at her hinted at pure devilry. ‘Perhaps, Madam, it is because I did.’

‘But why?’

‘The viscount – who I regret to say is a distant nephew – came to stay in this room between school terms when he was little more than a child. He showed himself to be a petulant boy and at one point he angered me with his cruel treatment of a defenceless puppy.’ John’s smile turned grim. ‘I visited him one stormy night. Needless to say the bravado he showed his parents and the servants vanished when he was faced with the dreaded ghost of Stanthorpe House.’

‘You deliberately frightened a boy?’

‘And I would repeat the exercise if the opportunity arose.’

Her forehead creased as she considered how scared the young Richard would have been. She remembered only too well the initial stab of terror she’d felt when John had first made himself known. ‘But that is so mean. He was just a kid.’

‘Save your sympathy, Kelly. Even as a child he exhibited scant respect for this house and those who call it home. Indeed, little has changed in that regard.’

She sighed and went to sit at the writing desk. She hadn’t logged onto her email since yesterday and still awaited an answer from a tech crew that she wanted to commission to sweep her room and test the hand mirror.

‘Richard seems pleasant enough to me,’ she said as she plugged the modem into the side of her laptop.

‘Perhaps. However, I would advise caution. I have watched generations of Ditchleys in this house and I can say for a certainty that their blood is tainted.’

When Kelly next glanced up from her keyboard the mirror was empty, and though she still refused to believe he told the truth, she had to admit to a fleeting stab of disappointment. She had begun to enjoy their verbal sparring. Very much. And she still had to come up with a plausible explanation as to why she could see John whilst Richard obviously could not.

The rest of her day was spent going over all the evidence she had to date, and making arrangements for the technicians to sweep the room. She shared a quiet evening with Tom and Nancy, reminiscing over school days and revisiting photos of their escapades over the years. Her friends breathed new life into her soul and by the time she went to bed, she’d begun to feel a little more like her old self.

It felt so warm. Frank hovered over her, desire rampant in his blazing eyes. She sighed, remembering that first flush of heat she’d felt when he had seduced her in the gallery. The intensity of his expression made her heart stutter slightly. He’d wanted her with a desperation the first time they’d met.

He’d cornered her in a back room when the showing had just begun to get into full swing. Frank worked for a regional art magazine and had come to New York for the opening of a friend’s exhibition. They were introduced only minutes after she arrived and for the next hour he barely took his eyes off her, following her every move as she circulated amongst the invited guests and hangers on. She felt him – her skin prickling whenever he cast his gaze her way.

When the room became oppressively crowded she decided to flee to the quiet of the private bathroom out back to catch her breath. She knew he would follow her. She let the water flow over her wrists to cool her skin and as she raised her eyes to look into the mirror, she saw him behind her. Even though she’d expected him to find her, her breath caught, just for an instant.

The smile he wore was so carnal and sexy, she couldn’t help but return it. She felt bolder and more daring than she ever had.

Keeping her reflected gaze trapped in his, he kissed the back of her neck, slowly, heatedly and she all but melted against him. His tongue, so wet and hot, traced up and down the hollow below her ear, making her shiver with each sweep of warm wetness. He said not a word. The only sounds were the rasp of fabric, her gown against his trousers, and her rapid breaths. She gripped the porcelain sink with shaking fingers as his hands inched her gown upward till he’d exposed her thighs. His hands were so hot her legs trembled.

‘I’ve never …’ she began, not quite knowing what to say.

‘Don’t speak … just feel,’ he ordered, still staring into her eyes.

His fingertips wove lazy circles on her upper thighs, each time moving a little closer to her underwear. She felt tiny spurts of wetness release as his fingers edged nearer. Her thighs began to quiver. She closed her eyes and rolled her head back onto his shoulder with a sigh. An instant later his hands were there, touching her, sliding up and down in her moistness, and she heard herself moan. Never in her life had she done something so daring, or exciting!

Ever so gently he turned her to face him. He smiled at her again, that same carnal smile. She didn’t know when or how but her panties were gone and she was on the verge of climax, gripping his shoulders. His eyes were mesmerising, black orbs that drew her headlong into his heated world. He lifted her onto the edge of the sink, then, before she could take another breath, he was inside her, filling her, whispering promises and setting fire to her inside and out …

Then …

… Suddenly he was pawing at her body with sharp, digging fingers – his face determined; the veins in his temples stood out, pulsing, demanding.

‘Surrender! You belong to me. You OWE me.’

‘Stop! Not like this!’ her mind wailed. ‘It wasn’t like this!’

But he had changed. This was no longer the Frank who’d swept her off her feet that night. The man looming over her looked like Frank but now the smile he wore was a hard smile, an ugly smile. He gripped her hair, bringing her face closer for a bruising kiss. What happened to those hands that had gently worshipped her that night in the gallery? Why had they deserted her? The fingers that now touched her were hard and callused and dug at her skin as if they intended to bruise.

She whimpered, closing her eyes to block out the emotions. ‘No, Frank, please, not like this.’

‘Look at me!’

She wanted to disobey, but the voice changed – it slowly became softer, more compelling, until, ‘Look at me.’

Slowly her lids lifted and Frank had gone, the man above her was blond and smiling. Richard? At first his touch soothed, gentled. She felt herself relax as her skin warmed. The eyes, a startling blue, seemed to overwhelm her.

‘Surrender,’ he whispered, his hands slowly smoothing over her bare breasts.

She shook her head slightly. ‘No. It’s too soon,’ she begged.

‘No it isn’t. Surrender. I’ll make you happy. Make you forget. We can help each other.’

Again she shook her head even as his big hand slid down her body, splaying over her belly. Goosebumps rose along her skin as his fingertips nudged the edge of her panties. She refused to react. ‘No – not yet. I can’t yet. I don’t want …’

Her plea was greeted a narrowing of those sky blue eyes.

‘Yes. You need to.’

A leg pushed between hers, insinuating itself. His hand slid downward, pressing against her intimately, his fingers slipped between the moist folds, forcing a reaction. Her body arched of its own volition as he moved to lay over her.

Shaking her head she heard her own sob, a tiny, mewling sound.

‘No. Not yet. Please – I’m not ready.’ She turned her head into the pillow to escape his kiss. ‘Please, not now.’

The hands tensed against her as her mind struggled away …

… The weight of him lifted and she was left with the soft touch of a single, gentle hand that caressed her cheek.

‘You are safe. I cannot harm you.’

Her eyes sprang open as she recognised that the timbre of the voice had changed again. Beside her, on the pillow, John’s face studied her with compassion. ‘I will never harm you,’ he whispered as he leaned across to touch her lips lightly with his.

‘You’re a murderer!’

‘But I will not harm you,’ he repeated in a pledge that arrowed deep inside her. Again he brushed her lips with his.

Soft.

She sighed. He didn’t demand. Didn’t force. He just offered himself sweetly and she felt her emotions surge.

‘I can wait an eternity for you,’ he promised.

She tried to touch him with her hands, find his warmth, but he was beyond her grasp. ‘Where are you?’

Cold glass barred her.

‘I will wait as long as it takes,’ he whispered.

Safe, protected, she nodded and slipped more deeply into sleep.

Journal of Edward James Ditchley,

Stanthorpe House, Oxfordshire, England.

January 28, 1862

My Darling One, our victory has come today! Anne could no longer forestall our marriage – she is with child and now must consent to be my bride post haste. We merely await the arrival of her father and the vicar will join us as man and wife. It will be a quiet service – unlike the magnificent event of our own nuptials, my Elizabeth. Be assured, you are not usurped in my heart.

Your murderer is beside himself with anger and despair. As he should be. From this comes my only joy.