The Return : The Return Chapter 12 by Sandra Stoner-Mitchell |
End of Chap 11No, not against Meg, but through her. Gwendolyn knows how much Richard hates his sister. Now, what if she finds out there’s a party coming up for Meg’s birthday. Don’t you think that would give her great pleasure telling Richard that Miles is still with Meg? I’s thinking how outraged that would make him? Especially if it comes from his beloved wife.’ Margot thought for a moment. ‘That would put the cat amongst the pigeons, wouldn’t it? So how would we stop her … if it is her that starts it off?’ ‘I’s not been thinking that far yet, and I might be way off. We’s got to keep our options open. I’s thinking we should go and give Miles’ father a visit tomorrow. He’s the one that’ll blow his top when he finds out what’s been going on.’ ‘Yes, I’d very much like to meet this dreadful man and give him a piece of my mind.’ ‘Well, you can’t be doing that!’ Bessie chortled. ‘Let’s go and keep Gwendolyn company.’ Chapter 12 Alone at last, Gwendolyn headed straight for the drinks cabinet and picked up the decanted malt whiskey. She poured a small amount into a glass, taking a moment to appreciate the aroma and enjoy the tingling sensation on the roof of her mouth. Then, tipping the glass to her lips she let the whiskey coat her tongue before swallowing. The warm burn that followed was the most satisfying of all. She sighed and, for the tiniest fraction of time, she felt content. When her eyes glanced up to the portrait of her father and his dark, soulless eyes stared back, Gwendolyn’s thin lips pinched into a tight smile of contempt. ‘Why I keep you up there, I don’t know. One of these days, I’ll throw you on the fire, and sit there while you warm my feet.’ She took another sip of whiskey, a larger one this time, as her disgruntled mood returned. The portrait had always frightened her when she was younger. It was his eyes. Wherever she was in the room, those blistering orbs would be looking straight at her. There was no escape. She looked away and walked over to the portrait of herself sitting on the chair, with Richard standing behind her with that pompous look on his face. ‘You’ll soon be going on the fire, too.’ Gwendolyn laughed, not unlike an old washer-woman’s harsh cackle, and took a larger swig of whiskey. With a sudden mood swing, she snatched the hem of her long skirt and started dancing around the room. With her glass still clutched in her other hand, she held her arm out, curving it, as she would if dancing with a partner. Her laughter turned manic, and throwing her head back, she spun faster, letting her full skirts swish about until, feeling giddy, she fell back onto the sofa. ‘Oh dear, Papa,’ she gasped, slightly breathless. ‘I can feel your frown, even now. That raised eyebrow of yours, your twitching moustache, all those nice touches that made me feel so loved. Hah!’ She broke into a fit of the giggles. ‘That was a joke, Papa. You didn’t know I could be so funny, did you? Of course you didn’t. I was your biggest disappointment; isn't that right, Papa? The ugly duckling that nobody wanted, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I, Papa?’ Margot looked at Bessie and frowned. ‘That poor woman. It doesn’t sound like she’s had a lot of affection in her life, if she had any at all!’ ‘Daughters married who their father chose, whether they liked it or not,’ Bessie told her. ‘It were Richard’s title her father wanted, and Richard wanted his money. So it were a match made in Heaven, so to speak. Mr Turnbull, he’d made his fortune trading, but that were frowned upon in the snobby-classes. He weren’t good enough for the likes of the lords and such. Titles open doors. With his daughter’s marriage, he hoped to be more accepted.’ Bessie was about to say more but stopped when something Gwendolyn said caught her attention. ‘You didn’t think your plain daughter had a brain, did you, Papa? How fortuitous it was to discover we had hemlock growing in the garden. You thought it was a ridiculous pastime for a woman to be studying plants, didn’t you? Needlework and reading poetry, that’s all you said women were fit for. You really should have paid more attention, Papa.’ Gwendolyn heaved herself off the sofa and went to replenish her empty glass. With her face revealing all the hate she’d felt for him, she stared once more at her father’s portrait, before turning and walking out of the room with her newly filled glass. It was silent for a moment, neither saying a word. Not until a thought struck Margot. ‘Hemlock. Isn’t that plant highly poisonous? Do you think she murdered her father?’ Both women stared at the door, as if expecting Gwendolyn to come back with the answer, then turned, as one, and looked up at Gwendolyn’s father. ‘I’s not knowing and I’s don’t want to! Come on, let’s get outta this place. I’s not liking it here anymore.’ ‘Agreed. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling quite tired. Is there somewhere we can go to rest up for a while?’ ‘I’s thinking we’s be going to Lord Brandon’s house now. You can rest a bit while I’s be snooping around.’ ‘Don’t you want to sleep? It’s been a long day; you must be just as tired as I am.’ Bessie gave Margot that mysterious smile that matched the twinkle in her eyes. ‘I’s never tired, dearie, so’s don’t you go fretting about me. Come on, let’s go.’ Margot just stared, then rolled her eyes. She knew the subject was closed and that was that! ***** Miles woke before Meg and gently eased himself out of the bed. He opened and closed the door with just as much care, then slipped out to make his way to the second bedroom where he’d left his clothes and other personal items. Half an hour later, he strode into the kitchen, startling the girl who was firing up the range before the cook arrived. A kettle, hanging from the cooking crane over the open fire in the corner of the room, was already boiling away. ‘Good morning, Jane. Don’t worry about me, just carry on as if I wasn’t here.’ Miles went across to the fire and, grabbing a cloth, he removed the brass kettle from the crane and made himself a pot of tea, much to the surprise and consternation of the young girl. Miles caught her watching, and smiled at the look of horror on her face. ‘Did you think I didn’t know how to make a pot of tea, Jane? Let me tell you, young lady, it was something I learned when I was just a mere lad. I’d watch our cook make it in the afternoon for my mother.’ Jane didn’t say anything; she was too nervous. It wasn't normal for a Lord to come into the kitchen. Miles realised he was frightening the girl, and carrying his cup, he walked towards the door. ‘I’ll leave you to get on, then.’ And with a cheery smile, he left her standing, jaw hanging, by the cooking range. He stood in the garden and drank his tea before going up to see if Meg was awake. He had a busy day ahead, and needed to leave now, but not before letting Meg know. When he went into her room, he found her up and sitting at her dresser, brushing her hair out. ‘Good morning, my love,’ he said. Walking up to her, he bent over and moved her hair aside so he could kiss her neck. He felt her breath catch, and smiled. ‘I have to leave you for a while, but I’ll return later this afternoon. Will you be all right?’ He moved around and leant against her dresser so he could see her face. Will I ever be bored looking into your eyes, my dear one? No, never. Meg stood up and leaned against him. ‘Of course I’ll be all right. What have you planned for the day? Or is it private work business?’ ‘No, nothing that interesting, but necessity dictates I sign some boring forms my solicitor has sent me, and they are all at my father’s.’ He smiled into her upturned face and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Have I ever told you how adorable your nose is?’ Meg laughed, easing away from his arms. ‘Go on with you. I’ll wait for your return and perhaps we can walk around the garden?’ ‘That sounds perfect.’ He pulled her back and kissed her with a passion that even surprised himself. ***** When Margot woke up the following morning, she couldn’t remember where she was for a moment. It had been dark when she and Bessie had arrived at Lord Brandon’s mansion, so she hadn’t been able to see anything. Now, as she slowly came to, she recalled Bessie leading her into the bedroom and telling her to get some sleep. The room was lovely. The four-poster bed she’d slept on was harder than she was used to, but still comfortable. She climbed out of bed, climbed being the operative word. She’d never slept in such a high bed. Margot still had all her clothes on, not sure if someone would find her there and want answers. She still wasn’t used to this invisible business. Not being a ghost and still being solid, she had to be careful what she touched or moved. All of which made the invisible part implausible. Yet she knew it was true. Margot was about to go searching for Bessie, when there was a tap on the door and her friend walked into the room. ‘Good morning, how did you sleep?’ ‘Fine. This is a lovely bedroom, isn’t it? I feel like royalty sleeping in here.’ Margot said brightly. ‘What did you get up to while I was sleeping?’ ‘I’s been looking in Lord Brandon’s office and I’s found something very interesting! But before I tell you, let’s go downstairs and have a little wander around.’ From what Margot had seen of this bedroom, she was looking forward to seeing the rest of the mansion. She had thought Richard’s home was grand but this one made it pale into insignificance. Where Richard’s house screamed money, Lord Brandon’s showed elegance and good taste. ‘Wow!’ There was nothing else Margot could say. The rooms were spacious, with ceiling to floor curtains, beautiful furniture in the reception room, and sitting room. The library must have had at least a thousand books on its shelves. The dining room had to be the most regal room of the mansion. The huge table had three beautiful silver candelabras set at appropriate intervals apart and, with eighteen elegant dining chairs around it, would accommodate their guests comfortably. The walls were covered with Old Master paintings, and several gilded mirrors. Quality silverware, porcelain and glass was much in evidence, ready for the waiting staff to prepare the table. The word, stunning, did not do it justice. Bessie chuckled, and patted Margot’s arm. ‘Now, this is what I’s be calling classy. Lady Brandon watched over everything, right down to the oil lamps and the smallest candle.’ ‘She can design my home anytime!’ Margot was very impressed. ‘Okay, so are you going to tell me what you found that was so interesting?’ When Bessie’s bright, sparkling eyes lit up, Margot knew she’d found something a tad more than interesting. ‘Come on then, don’t keep it to yourself!’ ‘Let’s just say for now, Meg’s father didn’t lose his money gambling.’ Continued…. Characters Margot Crawley: A bank teller who has had her life turned upside down by an amorous ghost. She saw a house in the estate agent's window, and was so attracted to it, she ended up buying it even though she hadn’t wanted to move. What made her do such an uncharacteristic thing? She believes it was the house itself. Bessie: The housekeeper who was there when Margot moved in. What is she? What does she know? Bessie is an enigma and Margot is determined to discover what she knows. Meg Crawley: A woman from the 1800s who is somehow linked with Margot. But how? Margot discovers that Mistress Meg once lived in her house before her untimely death. Things are becoming very mysterious. Miles Brandon: Once betrothed to Meg, but after her father committed suicide creating such a scandal because of the debts he left from gambling. Miles is told to call off the wedding before it brought the scandal to his own doorstep. Lord Brandon: Miles’ Father linked with Meg’s death. Richard Crawley: Meg’s brother. Fallen out with Meg and his mother. Blames his mother for his father’s gambling. Gwendolyn Crawley (nee Turnbull): Richard's wife, hates Richard with a passion. Mr Turnbull: Gwendolyn’s father. Married her off to Richard so he could benefit from Richard’s title.
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Sandra Stoner-Mitchell
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