Lord Melvedere's Ghost (31 page)

Both men
immediately snapped to attention at the tension on Jamie’s
face.

“
What is it? What’s happened?”

“
Cecily’s gone,” Jamie snapped with a brisk nod toward the
study.

The men
knew better than to say anything in such an unsecure environment,
and wisely kept silent until the study door closed behind
them.

“
You had better tell us what happened,” Simon suggested darkly,
taking a customary position before the fire.

Jamie
briefly brought them up to date with the now missing items, secret
passageways and Cecily’s work looking through the broadsheets and
library. He had no doubt she had stumbled upon something, if only
he knew what.

“
This place has been checked twice, has it?” Simon’s voice was
sharp, his dark gaze thoughtful as he stared into the fireplace. He
missed his wife already, but having spent most of the past several
weeks with a teething baby, he had been looking forward to his
first, peaceful sleep in some considerable time. Now though, it
didn’t seem that it was going to be possible here either. Shaking
his head, he turned his attention back to Jamie and the worry that
was evident on his face.

Jamie
was one of the Star Elite’s most mysterious men. Cool and
unflappable, he was an expert knifeman and a keen shot. He could be
counted on to remain cool and aloof even in the midst of some of
the fiercest fighting. To see him clearly shaken with fear for
Cecily was highly unusual. It gave Simon some indication to how the
situation stood between his colleague and the woman they had come
to question.

“
How is Jonathan?” Hugo asked, wondering how long Jamie would
leave it before escorting Cecily up the aisle. He was intrigued to
meet the woman who had so quickly captivated a man like
Jamie.

“
He is fine. He has a lump to the head but refuses to give in,”
Jamie sighed, relieved that his colleagues had finally
arrived.

“
Are you sure she hasn’t been hidden in any of the
outbuildings? Have you checked the garden? After all, the gardens
here are massive and it was dark outside when she was taken. It is
possible that the watchmen missed her,” Hugo reasoned, and stared
at Jamie thoughtfully. It was clear the man was deeply involved
with Miss Tinsdale, and he wondered if he could persuade his wife,
Harriett, to travel to Cumbria for the wedding. Hugo sighed at the
loss of another good man. Still, he couldn’t begrudge the man his
happiness. He shared a knowing look with Simon, who himself had
encountered his own fair share of trials and tribulations with his
wife, Francesca.

“
I suggest we go and take a look,” Simon drawled.

With
nothing else to do, Jamie stomped out of the side door to begin a
thorough search of the gardens.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Cecily
was stiff and in pain. Her arms ached from being cruelly tied
behind her back. Her wrists were sore from the tight bindings, but
it was the cloth in her mouth that made her gag. The material was
relentlessly digging into the sides of her mouth, sucking all
dampness from her mouth and throat. She used her tongue to try to
prise it out of the way but it wouldn’t budge.

Tears
gathered in her eyes but she refused to allow them to fall. Once
again, as seemed to be commonplace during her time at Melvedere,
she found herself alone, in the darkness, surrounded by
cobwebs.

She had
no idea where she was but it was cramped and dirty. Beams of wood
were inches from her face and she dreaded to think what was digging
into her back. She closed her eyes and wriggled forward, trying
hard not to sneeze as the unsettled dust gathered under her
nose.

She
couldn’t see much of anything except boxes. Wriggling and twisting
this way and that, she managed to inch further away from what
appeared to be eaves, until she was sitting with her back to one of
the boxes. All of her bindings were too tight to remove, so she was
left with little choice but to work around them. Progress was
painfully slow and she was panting by the time she awkwardly pushed
to her feet.

She had
no idea if she was still at Melvedere, but the dust seemed awfully
familiar. If she ever became lady of the house the first thing she
would do was clean out every inch of dust, and every cobweb, until
the whole house positively gleamed. She hated dust. She would then
make sure that each room had at least a box of candles, and the
method with which to light them. If only she could see Jamie again
and apologise for her behaviour, she would happily accept any offer
he wished to make.

She
eventually made her way toward the door. It took a long time for
her to awkwardly turn the door knob with her hands behind her back
but, luckily, the door wasn’t locked. She had to shuffle a bit, and
use her feet to kick the door open but she was eventually able to
peer into the corridor outside. She knew then that she was standing
in the attics at Melvedere.

Deathly
silence was all around her. She knew that even if she could remove
the cruel gag from her mouth she was so far up in the house that
nobody would hear her scream.

Her head
pounded fiercely and she had to pause a few times to quell the
sickness that threatened. She would surely choke to death if she
was sick with the gag in her mouth. Willing herself to keep a firm
hold of herself, she focused on the mental image of Jamie’s beloved
face instead. She held it before her like a mantra.

Think like Jamie and you will be fine,
she chanted, stumbling toward the door she fervently hoped
would take her back downstairs. She wondered if he was at home yet
and, if so, if he was in his study. She didn’t think she could make
it all the way down to the ground floor. Her knees wobbled and the
world swam alarmingly around her.

She
blinked rapidly and willed herself to stop crying. She was
struggling enough to see as it was without having water to contend
with. Squeezing her eyes tight she breathed deeply and took a
moment to compose herself. A tight knot of fear lodged in her
stomach. What would she do if Jamie wasn’t back? What would she do
if he had been hurt as well? She could feel something warm and
sticky sliding down her face and knew she was bleeding from the cut
on her head again. The top of her head felt incredibly sore and she
wondered if this time the doctor would insist on sewing it. She had
only just managed to persuade Doctor Richardson to leave it to heal
on its own last time. If it was open again, the doctor would not be
fobbed off from his apparently desperate need to have at her with a
needle and thread.

Closing
the stomach churning thought out, she valiantly ignored the urge to
wipe the blood off her face. She carefully began to descend the
stairs down to the old servants’ quarters only to sigh despondently
at the sight of another door. Her shoulders drooped and she wished
she had the strength to kick the door down the way Jamie had the
other night.

Was that only a couple of nights ago?
It seemed like a lifetime away.

“
Where do you think you are going?” The cold, female voice came
from directly behind her. Cecily turned and blinked as the world
whirled and swam before her. Her stomach dropped to her knees as
her eyes met the cold, ruthless stare of Miss Emstridge.

Cecily
glanced up the narrow flight of stairs to the attics and knew that
the woman had been up there with her. Why had she allowed Cecily to
go down the stairs? What was she planning? Cecily merely stared at
the older woman mutely.

There
was no compassion in the woman’s hard gaze, or even any trace of
humanity. Standing directly before her as she was now, Cecily knew
that this woman wasn’t the one who had carried her upstairs.
Glancing around the empty corridor, it was clear that nobody else
was around. So who was Miss Emstridges’ accomplice?

“
Time to go,” Miss Emstridge drawled and grabbed hold of
Cecily’s elbow in a ruthless grip. Cecily dug her heels in,
determined not to make it easy on the older woman, and received a
slap across the face for her trouble.

“
Get moving,” the older woman snarled. “You are going
downstairs if I have to drag you by your hair.”

Cecily
continued to dig her heels in and stared dispassionately at her
captor. A strange sense of calm washed over her and she
straightened her spine defiantly. She wanted to go downstairs. If
and when Jamie came home, he would at least be able to hear her
scream.

She
stumbled, slipped, wobbled and was half dragged down the servants’
stairs to the rear corridor. She struggled to keep her feet under
her as she was shoved roughly into the library. It was unclear
whether Miss Emstridge was insane or angry.

The seat
Cecily was pushed down into felt wonderfully sturdy in a world that
was so unnervingly unpredictable that she almost sighed with
relief. Her eyes remained glued on Miss Emstridge who began to bind
her to the chair. Cecily tried to get up and was slapped again. The
sudden jerking of her head made it pound even more. Sweat popped
out on her brow and she struggled to focus on anything. By the time
she had recovered her senses her feet had been tied to the legs of
the chair and it impossible to leave. She had no idea what she was
being bound with but she couldn’t get up and walk anywhere without
having to drag the chair with her.

Cecily
watched as Miss Emstridge began to then pull books off the shelves
at random and throw them around the base of the chair in a
haphazard pile. Was this some sort of macabre game?

Once she
was done, Miss Emstridge removed the bindings to her
hands.

“
It is alright, you can scream now.” Miss Emstridge whispered
softly. “Nobody is going to hear you because there is nobody
here.”

Cecily
glanced at the door. The house was indeed deathly quiet. When she
had walked down the servants’ stairs, she hadn’t heard the habitual
banging of the pots and pans, or Mrs Nantwich or Sophie’s singing
while they worked. Where was everyone?

“
They have all gone outside, see?” Miss Emstridge informed her.
“They have all gone to look for you. Ah, dear, they won’t find you
though, will they?”

“
Why are you doing this?” Cecily whispered. She watched the
older woman scrunch up several sheets of parchment and shove it
into the pile of books. “What have we done to you?”

“
You are a mere pawn. It is nothing personal.” Miss Emstridge
replied dispassionately.

“
How can you say this isn’t personal?” Cecily cried, looking
down at the books.

“
Well, you are his whore, so you are just as bad as he is
really.” The cruel grimace on the older woman’s face began to make
Cecily tremble.

“
What do you mean, as bad as he is? Do you mean
Jamie?”

Miss
Emstridge paused in the process of removing several books room from
the shelving. Something suddenly changed in the woman and she
suddenly turned and threw a random book at Cecily. It caught her
painfully in the shoulder, but she refused to show any emotion,
even when the second book caught her in her stomach. She glanced
down at it. It was one of the fake ones she had found last night.
She wondered where the ghost was, and whether he really had been a
figment of her imagination after all. He wasn’t here now when it
counted, that was for certain.

“
Had you used to spend nights in his bed?” Cecily asked, almost
too conversationally. The thought of Jamie spending his nights with
this woman filled her with horror and she listened with sickening
dread for the older woman’s reply.

Miss
Emstridge scoffed derisively. “I’m not young enough, or pretty
enough, for Mister Fancy Breeches. He prefers younger women, like
you. When I took the job here, his father,” she nodded derisively
toward the portrait of Michael, “was nice. We had a lot in common.
We both liked books and spent many hours in here. All was going
well, until Mister Fancy Breeches came home. Then everything
changed. Michael remained in his study, spent his evenings with
Mister Fancy Breeches, and hardly came in here. I waited and
waited,” her voice turned softly reminiscent for several moments.
“But, after that, whenever I went to his study, Michael was vague
and distant. Mister Fancy Breeches had warned him off.”

“
How do you know that?” Cecily argued. She struggled to think
of this woman being enamoured with anyone.

“
Because everything changed when Mister Fancy Breeches
arrived,” Miss Emstridge spat. “Michael died several days
after
he
left.
When Mister Fancy Breeches came back, everything changed. He was
upset. I tried to comfort him but he was cold, always cold.” Her
voice petered out as she returned to her reminiscences.

“
So you started to help yourself to the contents of the library
just to spite him?” Cecily bitterly regretted the words when the
older woman seemed to jerk and turned to glare at her.

“
The money here is rubbish. Mister Fancy Breeches didn’t give a
damn about the library. I was making lists of things, and for what?
Nobody seemed to care what I did. All Mister Fancy Breeches cares
about is strutting in and out of here, dragging his friends with
him; drinking all of the brandy, eating all of the food before
clearing off again. He would be gone for months without a care in
the world.”