Secret Reflection

7


Day Six

The electronic screech of the alarm woke her just as the sun rose. She’d planned to grab a hasty breakfast before closeting herself in the library downstairs to do a little research, but when Kelly opened her eyes the first thing she saw was John Tarrant staring straight back at her with his arms crossed. The expression he wore was exactly like in last night’s dream. She felt her entire body begin to heat.

‘Kelly,’ he said her name as if speaking to a child. ‘Why does that tiny box make such a godforsaken cacophany?’

She reached across and slammed her hand onto the alarm to make it stop then sat up and shoved the hair out of her face. ‘It’s an alarm, that’s its purpose.’

‘I am no dullard, Madam – I am aware of such things – indeed, a clock with an alarm bell sat in the library of my London home. But your device has a particularly discordant sound. If you needed to be woken so early, why did you not ask?’

Throwing off the covers she slid her legs over the side of the high bed. She glanced up to see his eyes widen, realising that until now she’d made a point of keeping herself well and truly covered by turning out the lights whenever she thought he might be watching or by keeping a wrap on the bed, ready and waiting for quick trips to the bathroom. The look in his eyes sent another flash of memory from last night’s dream screaming through her mind and she wondered whether he might also dream.

She smiled to herself when he looked away, his cheeks pinkening.

‘What’s the matter – never seen a woman’s legs before?’

After making a slight choking noise in the back of his throat he turned back to her, raising his chin slightly, almost in defiance. ‘Indeed I have, Madam—’

‘I thought you were going to call me Kelly,’ she broke in with a snort. She could tell she’d unnerved him and that gave her a lot of satisfaction.

‘Indeed I have, Kelly,’ he amended, his agitation obviously raised another notch by her interruption. ‘However, those I have seen belonged to former lovers, not mere acquaintances.’

A sudden stab of hurt surged through her belly and she glared. ‘Mere acquaintances?’ she cocked an eyebrow. ‘You are in my bedroom, don’t forget. If I choose to show a bit of leg that is my business.’

After a moment’s consideration a slow, crooked smile lifted the corners of his lips. ‘In that case, m’dear, I shall take full advantage and enjoy the sight of whatever bared flesh you decide to exhibit.’

‘Fine.’

His gaze dropped to her legs momentarily before he allowed the smile full rein. ‘Yes, very fine indeed.’

Again she snorted; men were such arses! ‘Well, I’m showering, then I’m going down to the library to do a bit of research.’

‘Can you not wait until the hand mirror is returned? I could accompany you and direct the searches.’

‘That’s not possible. I’ve got to go and watch Richard play polo this afternoon, so I’ve only got the morning free. Besides why is it so important that you direct me? I’m sure I can find the journal if it exists.’

‘Perhaps, but the search would be speedier if you do not become side-tracked by finds that would be of no consequence to my predicament.’

That was odd, Kelly thought as she studied his face. Why would he think she’d become side-tracked? What other ‘finds’ might there be? He wouldn’t meet her gaze and that was a sure sign, in her experience, that he wasn’t telling her everything. Hmmm. Maybe the electronic devices that allowed him to appear in the mirrors were hidden in the library?

‘Sorry. That’s my plan. I’ll see you later.’ She marched into the walk-in closet with the feeling that the hoax was finally about to be unveiled.

After making a fairly thorough check for wiring and unexplained electricals, of which she found none, the search of the library began with Kelly scanning umpteen ledgers and diaries written by previous owners or managers of the estate from around the time John claimed to have become entrapped. But after a lot of useless and very boring reading, she decided that Edward’s journal would likely be hidden in a place where it wouldn’t easily be recognised, so she changed tack and began to search the shelves from over a hundred years prior to the date she’d started with.

An hour and a half later, covered in dust, Kelly thought she’d hit paydirt. She’d systematically removed all the books from each shelf of a bookcase, the third that she had inspected so far. At the very bottom near the floor where she now lay flat on her belly, she found a loose backing board that slid sideways. Mindful of spiders and other creepy-crawlies, she donned a pair of rubber gloves she’d found in kitchen and felt about in the small space behind. She could see little, despite the aid of a flashlight. Behind the loose board she discovered a brick that also seemed a bit loose. She jiggled the brick for a minute or two and in a sudden puff of dust that made her cough hysterically, the brick slid out to reveal a small square cavity that did yield some prizes.

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed, her pulse rate doubling as she dragged out a cloth-covered pocket-watch. The cloth turned out to be a ladies’ handkerchief with the initials E. D. embroidered in the corner by a very fine hand. The pocket-watch seemed old and Kelly handled it very carefully. Of highly polished silver with a fine circular pattern on the case, the inside held a manufacturer’s mark of A. Reiss, and the initials J.C.T. had been engraved along one edge.

John?

She’d take it upstairs and see if he recognised it. If not, it would be a nice antique for Tom and Nancy to put on display, or perhaps sell, if authentication proved it a genuine antique.

Reaching further inside the cavity her hand came upon what felt like a book. Her heart tripped. Had she found it? So easily? She retrieved it very slowly and carefully. It was a book – bound in red calf leather.

Taking a deep breath, she said a silent prayer and opened it. On the marbled flyleaf she read in a sloping script: John Charles Tarrant. Below the name the years 1859, 1860 and 1861 were listed.

‘Omigod!’ she squealed as she began to skim a few pages. She hadn’t found Edward’s journal, but she had discovered John’s!

The grandfather clock beside the door chimed the half hour and she shrieked when she realised she’d been at it for so long. She’d become so covered in dust that she needed to shower and wash her hair, again, before going to the polo match and she had less than an hour to do it. Even though she would have much preferred to spend the day reading the journal, she knew she couldn’t disappoint Nancy and Tom – they’d seemed so excited at the idea of going to the match.

With great care she rewrapped the pocket-watch and then tucked both that and the book inside her sweater for the trip back to her room. Hastily, she righted the brick in its cavity, before sliding the board back in place and repacking the books on the shelves. She wasn’t certain she’d put them back where they belonged, but it would have to do for the moment. Once she’d read John’s journal she’d come back and continue her explorations where she’d left off.

Barnsley greeted her with an eagerness he didn’t show the first time. She’d barely stepped inside the front door when he begged to see the letter.

Kelly handed it across and was instantly forgotten as he pored over the parchment. She would have given him the watch and book as well, but she wanted to read the journal first, and she hoped to use the pocket-watch and kerchief in her cross examination of John, so she didn’t mention either find as yet.

‘I can’t stay,’ she said, ‘my hosts are waiting outside to take me to a polo match. Can I come by some time early next week and get your verdict?’

Without looking up, Barnsley said, ‘Yes, that would be fine. Come Tuesday … it is the quietest day. By then I should be able to give you a definitive answer on this.’ He lifted the page to catch the sunlight behind it. ‘Interesting,’ he murmured.

Kelly nodded, though he didn’t once look up. She let herself out, mentally arranging her next few days. If she returned here Tuesday, it would leave Monday free to venture into London and continue her investigations there. The documents she’d ordered would be ready, and she still had a long list of theatrical agencies to visit. That left ample time to read John’s diary, question him further and still search for Edward’s journal.

Amazed and enthralled at the speed and agility of both horse and rider, Kelly found herself cheering on the sideline along with her friends. She didn’t pretend to understand the rules, although by the end of three short periods of play, known as chukkas, she’d worked out that she would never play herself, and nor would her future children if she had anything to say about it. It was a rough sport. Richard appeared a very good horseman; skilled and aggressive, he didn’t seem to care if his opposite number was a man or a woman – he treated each with equally lethal contempt.

After the final chukka, they all retired to enjoy a civilised picnic on the beautiful grounds of the polo club. Richard was philosophical about his team’s loss of the pre-season competition, more intent on filling the champagne glasses and throwing meaningful glances Kelly’s way until she almost wanted to suggest to Nancy and Tom that it was past time they head back to Stanthorpe. The idea that the journal and pocket-watch were sitting waiting for her in her attaché case had kept her distracted for much of the afternoon.

As they sat on a blanket soaking up the sun, Kelly felt the fine hairs on her arms rise. Her eyes darted about the small crowd on the lawn nearby. She was being watched. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name, and it wasn’t Richard, though his solicitousness was really beginning to get on her nerves. No. This was someone else, someone who watched from a distance.

Taking care not to seem obvious, she studied the people crowded about the nearby marquee but for the life of her, she didn’t recognise anyone. Not that she expected to: she knew no one here except those of her own party. Still, the sensation persisted and she found herself scrutinising every person she saw. It reminded her of the last few months before the divorce. Though she hadn’t realised it at first, Frank had had an investigator track her every move in the hope of finding some kind of incriminating evidence that would allow him to appear innocent of any wrongdoing. When she hadn’t provided him with ammunition, he’d manufactured it by setting up a fake business meeting between Kelly and her former boyfriend, Jake Mullhall, in a very public restaurant where many of her colleagues dined.

Her teeth clenched as she remembered the scene. Frank burst in soon after they were seated, spitting accusations then playing the tragic cuckold to the hilt. It still made her feel sick. Not the accusations. Nor the break-up. Just the sense of futility she felt when nothing she could say or do would make any of those present believe anything other than what they thought they saw.

All those months of being followed had left her with a strange feeling of discomfort and her daily run-ins with her man in the mirror had only increased her paranoia.

When the feeling now made the hair at her nape bristle, she chided herself inwardly and accepted another glass of champagne from Richard. After all, who would be watching her here? Surely Frank had stopped having her tailed now the divorce was final.

‘You should call me “Rick”,’ Richard suggested to her as he leaned a little closer. ‘Richard is so formal and I’d like to think we’re becoming friends,’ he continued as he clinked his champagne flute against hers.

Kelly’s eyes darted up in time to catch the amused grin that Tom and Nancy exchanged.

‘I’ll try,’ Kelly returned with a half-hearted smile. ‘But you’ll have to pardon me if I forget. In my business whenever you meet someone new you make certain to attach the correct name to the face, so “Richard” is already imprinted on my brain.’

His lips thinned but he nodded his understanding.

‘Why don’t I take you all on a tour around the clubhouse?’ he suggested, once he’d drained his glass.

‘You guys go ahead,’ Nancy said, leaning back into Tom’s strong embrace, ‘I think I’ll just lounge here and enjoy the tranquility.’ A flock of very noisy birds took wing an instant later putting paid to her statement. Nancy giggled and batted a hand in the air, ‘Go – I’m too content to move.’

Kelly was forced to take the hand Richard offered as she tried to stand, but made certain to claim it back as soon as she stood upright. Whether Richard noticed her reticence she didn’t know, but he didn’t appear offended.

The clubhouse Tea Room was a quaint wooden affair with lots of windows and bright garden furniture. She was surprised it wasn’t more palatial when Richard mentioned that the Prince of Wales and his sons often played here, but the atmosphere seemed welcoming and friendly.

As they exited into the sunshine, Kelly’s peripheral vision was caught by what looked like a girl slipping out of sight around the corner that led to the parking area. For a moment, she recalled her run-in with Deanna. But then again, she really didn’t think that this was the sort of event Deanna would attend. From what she could gather, polo was very much a rich man’s sport.

Yet, as they walked away, she still couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Taking her time, she covertly looked left and right, observing the little clusters of people that stood about. A sudden flash of insight made her focus on the men present, instead. Perhaps the actor who played John lurked somewhere? Maybe that was why she felt it so keenly.

Weaving through groups that surrounded the entrance to the marquee, Kelly was so intent on studying the faces nearby that she didn’t notice much else until something warm and damp suddenly slapped into her back.

‘Wha—?’ she spun about expecting to see Tom or Nancy standing behind her, grinning. Nobody stood there, but the overpowering stench of horse manure assailed her nostrils and when she looked down she saw the offending pat. ‘Who the hell …?’ she began.

For a split second Richard’s eyes hardened as he stared into the crowd beyond the marquee, then he quickly switched his attention back to her and smiled apologetically. ‘Problem with being around horses … accidents and all that. Here,’ he gripped the shoulders of her jacket to help her remove it, ‘the attendants in the powder room should have something that will fix this. I expect it’s not such an unusual occurrence around here.’

He led her back to the clubhouse where one of the waitresses came to the rescue with a packet of moist wipes. A little scrubbing and most of the smell had gone. She wadded up the jacket, tucked it under her arm and rejoined Richard whose expression was a study in restrained anger.

‘If you give me the jacket, I can have it cleaned properly,’ he offered.

‘No, that’s fine. I can just toss it into the machine at Stanthorpe. I don’t suppose you saw who threw it?’

Again his eyes narrowed momentarily but he shook his head. ‘Could have been anyone. Probably a child just larking about.’

She wasn’t sure she believed him, but then again, she could see no reason for him to lie about it. Her intuition suggested the girl she’d seen earlier was Deanna, and this incident was just another example of her jealousy over Richard. But she had no proof and she certainly couldn’t question Richard about it.

The champagne and sunshine had made them all pleasantly tired, and Kelly eagerly nodded when Nancy suggested they return to Stanthorpe for an evening siesta.

Thanking Richard for a wonderful afternoon, Nancy kissed his cheek when they reached the car. Next in line, Kelly smiled her appreciation but Richard gripped her shoulders and before she knew it he had kissed her gently on the lips. Startled, she looked up to find his blue eyes making promises she didn’t really want to know about.

‘I will come by at seven tomorrow evening to collect you for our dinner,’ he stated, before he backed away to allow her to open the car door. ‘I’m planning something truly spectacular.’

‘I’ll be ready,’ she said, though somehow she knew she wouldn’t be.

‘What was that all about, Dee?’

He knew she’d turn up sooner or later. After driving back to the coach house he opened another bottle of champagne and settled in front of the television to wait. She didn’t disappoint him. He hadn’t even finished his first glass.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ricky.’ She didn’t face him, instead she busied herself hanging up her coat, and then his, which he’d simply tossed over the back of the armchair when he’d arrived home.

‘You know exactly what I am talking about. You deliberately threw that manure at Kelly. Why?’

‘I did not!’ she spat petulantly. ‘But even if I had, which I didn’t, it would have been your fault. I saw the way you were cuddling up to her … giving her champagne and whispering in her ear.’ She studied him from beneath her lashes. Too young and inexperienced to be subtle, he always saw through her games.

‘You make too much of these things, Dee. C’m’ere.’ He opened his arms to her.

She hesitated only a second before she crossed the room, knelt on the couch and let him hold her.

‘I should spank you, you know. What you did was very naughty.’ He spoke to her like she was a twelve-year-old and she responded in kind.

‘Well you shouldn’t flirt with other women.’ She added a pout for effect. ‘Besides, she’s old.’

‘Old?’

‘Yes, old … and scrawny.’

Richard laughed. ‘I admit she is quite slim. But I don’t think she is much older than I am.’

‘Yes she is – at least by a few years … another woman can always tell these things.’

Again he laughed. His underage mistress was trying so hard to seem like a sophisticated woman of the world, when in fact she’d never even been as far as London. He had promised her several times that he would take her there as soon as she’d safely turned eighteen. But keeping her hidden out here in the country suited him. He had several other girlfriends in London, and if this was the way she behaved when he merely flirted, he couldn’t imagine what she’d get up to if she knew about Sigrid and Marlene. And he mustn’t forget the luscious Sonia.

‘Let’s forget about Kelly for now … what do you think, should we take a bubble bath in the spa?’

‘Ooh, yes, Ricky. I always looooove our bubble baths.’ She promptly stood and started peeling off her clothing. He felt his groin harden in an instant. She turned her back to him and shimmied out of her jeans. Her panties were bright green with pink polka-dots. He smiled to himself. There were times when he completely forgot she was so young, but the underpants were distinctly ‘teenage’.

As she peeled off her jumper, she half turned so he could get a good look at one full taut breast. When she dropped the woolen bundle to the floor, she blew him a kiss. ‘Aren’t you going to go and turn on the water?’ she asked, all innocence.

‘No way I’m going to miss this show,’ he said, reaching out to run a finger down her thigh. Heat surged up his spine when he saw a rash of goosebumps rise along her fair skin.

She hooked her thumbs in the top of her panties and slowly began to lower them. As she did, she bent before him, giving him a close-up view of her gently rounded buttocks and as she stepped out of them she parted her legs, letting him see all of her, red and moist and welcoming. Her scent flowed over him and, still seated in the chair, his jeans were suddenly way too tight.

The finger that had skimmed her thigh made its way back up the inside of her leg, slowing as he got closer to his target. She wriggled her bottom and giggled. He loved the way she enjoyed it so much – the teasing, whatever kinky ideas he came up with. Such a shame he’d have to give her up very soon.

He slid his finger upward till he traced the cleft between her thighs. Her moisture coated his fingertip and he felt his whole body begin to pulse. With his other hand, he slid down the zipper of his pants and pushed down the front of his briefs.

She looked down at his penis, red and stiff, and giggled again. ‘Does my Ricky want me?’ she asked, all coy and playful.

He didn’t want to be playful. He wanted to f*ck her. Grabbing her hips roughly, he dragged her down and impaled her. The tight heat of her made him groan deep in his throat. ‘C’mon, Dee, make me forget all about Kelly,’ he whispered.

His words had the desired effect. Whether out of jealousy or anger, she ground herself down on him till he was so deep he thought she had swallowed him whole. The fire inside her sent him racing towards the edge. He didn’t need to move. She lifted slightly then ground him deeper. Once, twice, and then he felt it. The heat came hurtling through him in a rush and he exploded inside her, the breaths heaving from his chest with the suddenness of it. His entire body shuddered.

She went still a moment then she balled her fist and thumped his leg. Hard. ‘That’s not fair! You’re supposed to wait for me.’

‘Who says? Your fault anyway – you’ve gotten far too good at this.’

She slanted him a look that said he wasn’t yet forgiven.

‘C’mon, Dee,’ he wheedled as he reached down to touch her from the front. ‘Open up and we’ll see what we can do,’ he said, nibbling on her neck.

Obediently, she parted her legs further and sighed.

By the time Tom had pulled into the drive in front of the manor, the champagne had taken its toll on Kelly. She rarely drank in the daytime but Richard had seemed intent on keeping her glass full all afternoon. How many she’d had, she didn’t quite remember, but the throbbing that had begun at the back of her eyes when they passed the village of Buscot, now loomed as a fully-fledged migraine. Eager to find her medication before it hit hard, Kelly excused herself as soon as the car halted before the steps.

It didn’t surprise her that John stood in the mirror waiting for her.

‘Before you say a word, I’ve got a migraine. I’m going to sleep. Stay or go, I don’t care.’ Clutching her forehead, she went though to the bathroom before he could respond and fumbled around for her Imitrex. As she inhaled it, she knew it was already too late to escape the worst. Zig-zagged lines had begun to flash across her vision and the pounding had become one long intense stab of pain.

Back in the room she ignored the man in the mirror as she drew the heavy drapes. She stripped off her jeans – not caring what her prudish ghost thought as she stood before him in her t-shirt and lacy black briefs.

‘I can see you are unwell, Kelly, so I will leave you in peace,’ he said in a soft voice, ‘but before I go, may I ask what a migraine is?’

She turned and said slowly, ‘It’s a kind of headache … one that is so bad I can’t stand light or sound … sometimes it makes me vomit.’

With a sage nod he gave her a gentle smile. ‘Then I bid you recover with all speed. Sleep well.’

Even through her pain-filled haze she recognised the compassion in his voice. She would have muttered her thanks but it hurt too much to talk.

She dragged back the covers from the bed and very gingerly climbed beneath the starched cotton to seek oblivion. The sheets were cold but she relished the sensation as it made her forget, for just a moment, the desperate pain. With a groan she let her head be cradled by the feather-soft pillow.

John didn’t leave. He felt compelled to stay and watch over her. Part of him wished he could go to her and lay down beside her tiny body, protect her with his strong arms as he had failed to protect both Elizabeth and Anne.

Every little while she would turn and whimper as if the pain had become too great to bear, and each time he felt his gut clench at the impotence of being trapped behind this wall of glass, unable to soothe her hurt. His mother sometimes suffered sick headaches that the doctor called megrim. Laudanum had been the only cure for her.

Around midnight he was relieved to see Nancy creep into the room.

Sitting on the side of the bed, she wiped the hair from Kelly’s eyes. ‘How’re you doing, kiddo?’ she whispered.

‘Bit better,’ Kelly answered.

‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No – just need to sleep … should be okay in the morning.’

Nancy again wiped Kelly’s forehead. ‘Just yell if you need me.’

Kelly grabbed Nancy’s hand and rubbed it against her cheek. ‘You’re a good friend, Nance. I love you.’

‘Me too. I’m just down the hall if you need me. Sleep.’ Nancy rose and quietly left the room, leaving the door ajar enough that she’d be able to hear if Kelly called.

John sighed to himself, thinking that he would trade virtually anything he owned to have a friend who cared so deeply. The irony, of course, was that he had nothing he could trade. Everything had been taken from him long ago and, apart from his honour, he really had nothing of any worth to offer to anyone of this world. Certainly nothing to offer the woman lying in his bed.

He kept vigil through the night and beyond – after all, he had time in abundance and it gave him a feeling of inner warmth merely to watch her. Kelly slept until nearly three the next afternoon and when she finally came fully awake, he could see that the shadows had all but cleared from her eyes. Her cheeks were still pale and she looked thinner but he sensed the presence of that small spark of defiance in her demeanour that he’d come to find most intriguing.