Someone to Love (17 page)

“Danny had one and it stayed with him.”

“Is it at your house? Do you have it here? I’d very much like to see it.”

“Look in Tolben Hall. You’ll see it.” He glanced over Nigh’s shoulder. “The vicar comes. I must go.”

Nigh looked back and saw the vicar standing with Jace, his hands full of papers, and looking at her. She lifted her hand to him, then looked back at the young man, but he was gone. Rats! She’d wanted him to meet Jace so they could exchange information. She hurried after him, running to the gate, but she didn’t see him. She looked up and down the street, but he wasn’t there.

Shrugging, she went back to Jace and the vicar.

“You must be Miss Smythe,” the vicar said. “And my name is Innis. I’m told you’re researching the people who used to own Tolben Hall.”

“Yes,” Nigh said, smiling and shaking his hand. “I just met—Ow!” she said when Jace’s fingertips bit into her arm.

“Ankle,” Jace said when the vicar looked concerned about her yelp of pain. “Father Innis was telling me that no Longstreets live here. Danny and his father came, bought Tolben Hall, then both of them died without issue.”

“But I was just—”

“I do thank you for all this,” Jace said loudly, cutting Nigh off. “The photocopies will help us a lot, I’m sure of it.”

“As I told you, most of what little there is left is at Tolben Hall.”

“Yes, Mrs. Fenney said she’d get the box of papers and we could see them today after lunch. By the way, I wondered if there was a place we could get takeout. We’ll go back to Tolben Hall to eat.”

Nigh said nothing to any of the plans Jace was making without consulting her. It had taken fingertips in her arm and a rude cut-off, but she now realized that Jace didn’t want her to mention the young man she’d been talking to. He was a Longstreet, but the vicar said that no Longstreets lived in the village. Was he visiting? On the other hand, the young man had run away as soon as he saw the vicar. What in the world was going on?

She only vaguely listened as the vicar gave Jace directions to a couple of shops where they could get food to take back to the B and B.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned on him. “What was that about? Why did you cut me off like that?”

“I didn’t want you to talk to the vicar about the man you were talking to.”

“But why—? Oh, I see. Secrecy. Keep what we’re doing to ourselves, that sort of thing.”

“Sort of,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

Minutes later, they were walking back through the village and stopping in the different shops and loading up on fruit and chicken pies and bottled juice. They also got some little chocolate cakes filled with cream.

“We’re going to get fat,” Nigh said, smiling, feeling good because she had lots of information to tell him.

“I think we’re going to need the chocolate,” he said under his breath. “Endorphins. We’ll need them. I think I’ll get a bottle of wine—or two or three. Maybe some whiskey. Do you like single malt?”

“No. Too strong for me. What in the world is wrong with you? I mean, I know you’re the moodiest person on earth, but—”

“Moody? I’m not moody!”

“No? So tell me why you bought Priory House.”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. “How about gin? Do you like that?”

“Why are you trying to get me drunk?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him.

“Not for that reason. I just want to calm you down.”

“Calm me down from what?”

“Nothing. Forget I said that.” He handed his credit card to the wine merchant. “So who were you talking to at the church?”

“A very nice young man. You were rude. Why didn’t you come over to be introduced?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you. Who was he?”

She waited until they were on the sidewalk again. “A Longstreet. He’s a descendant of Danny Longstreet, and he lives near here.”

“Didn’t the vicar say that no Longstreets lived in the village?”

“Yes, and I thought that was odd. Even odder was that when the young man saw the vicar he jumped up and ran away. It was almost as though he was afraid of him.”

“Or of holy water,” Jace mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing. What did you two talk about?”

They were walking down the road toward Tolben Hall, Jace carrying the heavy packages, Nigh with the lighter ones. “Sex,” she said.

Jace didn’t smile, but kept his head down, as though he was listening intently to every word she said. “What else? And sex in what context?”

“I believe the term we used was ‘raw, rough sex.’”

“What else?” Jace asked solemnly.

Obviously, she thought, she wasn’t going to make him jealous, so she gave up. It was nearly a mile walk back to the B and B, and Nigh talked nonstop, telling Jace everything she could think of that the young man had said.

“But you didn’t get his full name?”

“I meant to, but I was so fascinated with what he was saying that I forgot to ask. I did ask him if he was a Longstreet and he said yes. I’m sure that if we used the directories on the Internet we could find his address.”

“I think I know exactly where he lives,” Jace said.

“And how could you know that?”

“It’s in the papers I got from the vicar. He photocopied some registers for me that show some deaths.”

“What does that have to do with this young man?”

“He, uh…” Jace trailed off, not answering her question. “Poor Danny Longstreet. I bet he tried to tell people that Ann had been murdered, but what could he do? Tell them the person who killed Ann was the mother of his child?”

“True,” Nigh said. “If he’d sent the woman to the gallows, what would have become of the child? If Danny had taken the child, he might have been in the same situation as Ann’s father. The child would remind him of Ann’s death.”

“There wasn’t any good part of any of it,” Jace said.

“Poor virgin Ann, and miserable Danny. All because Danny got drunk one night.”

“I think everyone except Ann was at fault. She was the only truly innocent person in all of it.”

They could see Tolben Hall through the trees.

“So this Longstreet guy said you look like Ann?”

“Yes, and that there’s a picture of her somewhere in Tolben Hall.”

Jace groaned. “Hidden under floorboards in the closet? Move the shoes, take a screwdriver to the board?”

Nigh looked at him curiously, and when he turned his head away, she was even more curious. “I hope it’s hanging on the wall. I saw lots of little Victorian knickknacks around.”

“Yes, there are a lot of Victorian things around,” he said. “Things
and
people.”

I
don’t believe you,” Nigh said, glaring at him.

They were in her bedroom at Tolben Hall and spread on the little table were the contents of the box Mrs. Fenney had lent them. There wasn’t much in it, just a few business letters from Hugh Longstreet, and a ledger of the cost of running the place for one year. There were no personal papers, no delicious letters of love sent by Ann to Danny.

The only thing of interest was on the very bottom of the box. It was a photo of a young man, leaning against a tree, and looking at the photographer as though he thought the whole world was for his enjoyment.

“That’s him,” Nigh said, picking up the photo. “I mean, it’s not
him,
I know this has to be Danny, but he’s a dead ringer for the man I talked to today. The Longstreets have strong genes if they can pass down their looks so completely. It’s as if the women of the last few generations had nothing to do with the children.”

She handed the photo to Jace. “That looks like him, doesn’t it?” When Jace said nothing, Nigh frowned. “You saw him and it looks just like him, doesn’t it?”

“I would imagine it looks just like him,” Jace said quietly.

“And what is that supposed to mean? You would imagine? What did you
see
?”

Jace smiled at Nigh in a way that she didn’t like. “I forgot to ask Mrs. Fenney about Ann’s picture. Maybe we should wander about the house and see if we find a picture of someone who looks like you.” He got up from his chair and headed for the door, but Nigh didn’t move.

“What are you hiding now?” she asked.

Jace looked like he’d rather do anything on earth than sit back down and answer her question. But he sighed, then sat down across from her. “I didn’t see anyone,” he said, his head down, not wanting to face her.

“You what?” she asked, then she stood up and went to the window. She took a moment before she looked back at him. “I don’t like what you’re trying to say. Is it possible that you’re telling me that I was talking to no one?”

Jace looked up at her and gave her a crooked smile.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. She advanced on him. “You know what I think? I think you’re so obsessed with this whole ghost story that you’re desperate to have someone else in it with you. I think you made up the whole thing about seeing Ann and her cousin talking, and now you’re trying to make me think I too saw a ghost. I can assure you that the man I talked to at length today was as real as you are. I think—”

“Do you have a reason why I’d do something like that? So I could drum up business for the Ghost Center you made up?”

Nigh started to say something, but could think of no reason why he would make up the ghost story. But then, she knew he was filled with secrets. “I don’t know why you’d do such a thing, but I think—”

She broke off as he looked through the papers and pulled out one, then he went to the telephone and dialed a number.

“Who are you calling?” she asked.

“The vicar. If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe him.”

Seconds later, Jace was speaking to Father Innis. “Sorry to bother you again so soon, Father, but my assistant has some questions she’d like to ask you.” He handed the phone to Nigh.

With a look of defiance, she took the phone. “Check your sources” had been drummed into her head since she first started as a journalist.

“I wanted to ask you about what you said about there not being any Longstreets in the village,” she said. “I read somewhere or heard that there were some Longstreets living in the area.”

“Not any that are alive,” the vicar said, laughing. “We’ve had a number of reports that a young man fitting Danny Longstreet’s description has often been seen in the churchyard. I didn’t want to say anything as I don’t like to perpetuate such myths, but now that you’ve found out…”

“I see,” Nigh said, and her knees were feeling weak. “Why do you think Danny Longstreet is hanging around here?”

“I have no idea. He only lived at Tolben Hall for a few years, but the locals say that their grandparents told them that he was the unhappiest young man on earth. They say he used to ride his horse up the stairs of Tolben Hall. In fact, the legend is that that’s how he died. He got to the top of the stairs on his horse, then fell off, rolled down the stairs, and broke his neck. Dear me! Here I am carrying tales. What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“This morning I was talking to a young man while I was on the bench by the flowers. He left before I could get his name. I wondered if you knew him.” Nigh glanced at Jace, but he had his back to her as he looked out the window.

The vicar was silent for quite some time, and when he spoke, his voice was exaggeratedly calm. “I saw you sitting on the bench, your back to us, but I saw no one else.” His voice lowered. “Were you talking to Danny? We’ve had a couple people report that they’ve talked to him.”

“No, of course not,” Nigh said. “You’re right. I was talking to no one. I, uh…thank you so much, Father Innis, you’ve been a great help. Thank you,” she said again, then hung up the phone.

Jace turned to look at her and Nigh stared back. Every moment of that morning, of sitting on the bench with that good-looking young man and talking about his ancestors—and maybe hers too—came back to her. But it hadn’t been real. Had he been a ghost? Was that what she was supposed to believe?

She looked at Jace, saw his eyes widen in alarm, then the next second, everything went black.

When Nigh awoke, she was on top of the bed, the cover folded around her; the curtains were drawn and there was a cold washcloth on her forehead. As she tried to sit up, the door to the bathroom opened and Jace came out with another washcloth.

“Be still,” he said, coming to sit by her on the bed as he changed washcloths.

“I don’t want this,” she said, pulling the thing off and trying to sit up. But she was woozy and dizzy and she fell back onto the bed.

She looked at Jace. “How long have I been here?”

“About four hours,” he said, and when she tried to get up again, he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. “The vicar sent the local doctor and he gave you a sedative. You’re going to be out of it at least until tomorrow morning.”

“Doctor? Sedative?” Slowly, she began to remember what she’d been told just before the world turned black. “Danny Longstreet,” she whispered. “I sat and talked to a ghost.” She put her hands over her face and began to cry.

Jace pulled her into his arms and stroked her back and hair as she cried.

“Why aren’t
you
afraid of ghosts?” she asked, sobbing into his shoulder. “And why can I handle bombs but not ghosts? What do they want of you? Of me?”

“You look like Ann and you’re related to her,” Jace said softly. “I would imagine Danny wanted to be near anyone who was part of the woman he loved.”

“But they never contacted me in all the time I was in Margate,” Nigh said. “I was in that house many, many times, but I never saw a ghost.”

“I think you felt Ann. I think she took care of you, looked after you.”

His words and the truth of them made her cry harder for a moment, then the tears began to lessen. Jace gave her a handful of tissues from the box by the bed.

“Do they want us to do something for them? Find out something?” Nigh asked as she blew her nose. “Why are they appearing to us?”

“And why are they giving us information?” Jace asked. He put her back on the pillows, but stayed sitting by her on the bed. “Does it seem odd to you that you and I are together? I mean, I own Priory House, and you’re a descendant of Ann Stuart. And now we’re together and we’ve both seen ghosts.”

“At least you dreamed them,” Nigh said, “so you can stay sane. I was talking to a dead man in broad daylight.”

“What do we know about ghosts?” Jace asked. “How do we find out more?”

Nigh blew her nose again. “We don’t know anything because ghosts don’t exist. I see those shows on TV and all people have are feelings, they
feel
ghosts. If they see one, it’s just as a light. They do
not
sit on a bench and chat with them. You saw me there, talking away to nobody. You must have thought I was insane.”

“I had an idea of what was going on. It was a been-there-done-that situation. My concern was if something bad happened.”

“You mean like Ann did to you, of nearly killing you?”

“Exactly.”

“I guess Danny could have carried me off on his horse.” For a moment she put her hands over her face again, then looked up. “This village should have danger signs posted. ‘Warning! You might be accosted by a ghost seeking his long-lost love. In case of terror, see the doctor.’”

Jace gave a snort of laughter. “In Margate you put a bogus article in a tiny local newspaper and we were deluged by people wanting in on it. Imagine what it would be like if you told a…excuse me…reporter that you’d sat on a bench and had a long conversation with someone who wasn’t there.”

“I don’t want to imagine it,” she said. “By the way, thanks for not letting me blurt out all that…that Danny and I had talked about.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t think the people here want more ghost sightings spread around. It seems that so many people have seen Danny that the local GP is often called in.”

“And he has barbiturates at the ready. Rather like keeping snakebite venom in a herpetarium.”

Jace smiled. “I think you’ll be okay if you have your sense of humor back. I spent some time with the doctor and the vicar and—”

“Who else knows?” she asked. “Did you call my editor in London? Is it on CNN that a war correspondent was felled by the sight of a handsome ghost in a village in England?”

“You didn’t tell me he was handsome,” Jace said as he moved to stand at the foot of the bed, then smiled when she started to defend herself. “I have orders from the doctor to give you what you want to eat for dinner and to talk about what you saw or not talk about it, depending on whatever you want to do.”

“Anything to keep me from going insane, is that it?” She looked at him in speculation. “It seems to me that
I
reacted in a normal way after seeing a ghost.”

“If passing out is normal, then I hope I’m never around another person who sees a ghost,” he said.

“My point exactly,” she said as he poured her a glass of water. “I’m normal. I reacted with hysteria and totally collapsed. But you didn’t. You saw a ghost but you didn’t freak out. Why?”

He handed her the glass of water, but when her hand trembled, he sat by her and held it to her lips. When she’d finished, she again asked, “Why?”

Jace walked to the window and opened the curtain a bit. It was dark outside. He turned back to her. “I think maybe I’m closer to death than you are,” he said softly.

Nigh’s eyes widened. “You’re ill, aren’t you? Is that your big secret?” Her eyes again filled with tears.

“No,” he said, smiling. “I’m not ill, but thanks for your concern.” He paused for a moment, as though debating about what to say. “I had someone I loved very much die, and since then, I haven’t really rejoined the living. Maybe these spirits feel that.”

She blinked at him. “You want to contact the person who died, don’t you?” she asked softly. “That’s why you made the room to look like Ann’s. You wanted to, as you said, entice her to come back because you wanted to ask her questions. Is that it?”

“Yes.” He smiled in a way that made Nigh think that he was relieved to have told her so much.

“I think maybe you’re assuming too much,” she said, and she could feel the investigative reporter in her rising to the surface. “When I meet people in other countries I’m often asked if I know so-and-so in England. They’ll say, ‘I met a man from England once, maybe you know him’.”

“I get that about the U.S. So what’s the point?”

“Do all the ghosts on this planet know each other? Do they know everyone who has died?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said, anger rising in his voice. “I don’t know any more about this than anyone else. What I do know is that I can’t hurt a ghost. I wish I could fall in love with Ann Stuart. I wish I could wed her and bed her and have children with her. I wish I could fill that huge house with little spirit children who would live forever and never die.”

With his anger spent, he sat down on the end of the bed, his face ragged from his emotion. Nigh tossed back the covers and went to him and put her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for whatever has happened to you,” she said. “I’m deeply and truly sorry.”

He patted her hand. “Look, I think I’d better go. I apologize for my outburst. There are sandwiches on the table and Mrs. Fenney said she’d bring up a pot of tea in about a half hour.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said as he stood up. “I may go into the village to get something to eat. I don’t know.”

“You’re going to go to the church, aren’t you?” she said. “You’re going to go sit on that bench and ask Danny Longstreet to come to you.”

“I…uh,” he said as he moved toward the door. “I think you’ll be fine now. The doctor said you’d be weak for a while, but you’ll be all right. After a good night’s sleep, maybe all this will seem like a dream. Maybe you won’t remember much of it. Good night,” he said, then left the room.