Chapter Six

The slam of the door startled Alex and he twisted round.

‘Cassie!’ He jumped to his feet. ‘I could ask you the same thing. We’re just having a look at some old stuff up here. Elodie is quite taken by Aunt Amy’s fox fur.’

‘Cool.’ Cassie smiled. ‘I decided to come home this weekend. Trust me to bring the storm with me!’ She shook her head. Her long, dark hair did that flicky thing that shampoo retailers want girls to emulate. ‘I was stuck in the village the whole time the storm was going on. I had to park my motorbike up, throw myself on Delilah’s mercy and hope for the best. Then I had to direct some guys in with deliveries to the Hall as well, because they needed to dump some stuff and get back on schedule. So that’s all in the spare room – in case we had a flood, you know, it’ll be safe up there. Oh – and the river burst its banks down by the Faerie Bridge, so you might want to check the lake … sorry.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’s probably not what you want to hear right now. And Margaret said she’s called the water people out to sort the drain as well.’

The river that ran beneath the Faerie Bridge was a tributary of the Hartsford Hall lake. Or maybe it was the other way around. One ancestor, many years ago, had decided to divert the river into the estate and created his landscaped lake out of that. It was a wonderful idea, but he didn’t seem to have considered how it would flood every time the river burst its banks. Alex didn’t really want to consider it either at that moment – he was just pleased the livestock were up the hills and away from it.

And he was also pleased there was a ha-ha in front of it, which would at least prevent any tourists from being too close to the water. The last thing he wanted was a law suit, even if they had gone down there at their own risk.

‘No, it’s not really what I want to hear today. Did anyone tell you about the church yet?’

‘The church?’ asked Cassie. ‘No, what’s happened? Oh, don’t say that beautiful stained-glass window broke.’

‘Worse than that. The roof’s damaged and Georgiana’s tomb is wrecked.’

‘No!’ cried Cassie. ‘That lovely statue!’

‘It’s not just the tomb.’ Elodie came over to them. She looked a bit pale and her voice was a little shaky, but she still smiled a welcome at Cassie. ‘Tell her what we found inside it, Alex.’ She looked at him, her eyes a little unfocussed – then she seemed to regain her self-control and stood there, folding her arms across her body as if she was self-conscious of something.

‘We found nothing,’ Alex told Cassie.

‘Well, there were some things in there. Just not a body.’

‘Yes. Just not a body,’ Alex conceded. ‘We found a key. And a Bible. And a duelling pistol – the one that’s missing from the Long Gallery. And, the best thing, I think, was a silver locket. It looks like it’s rusted tight shut though, so we can’t open it. But I think it’s the same one as on this picture. See? Around this girl’s neck.’ He pointed at the portrait.

Cassie knelt down beside Alex and reached out her own finger, quite possibly with the intention of trying to rub at the paint; but Alex knocked her hand away before she could touch it.

‘No. Best not. It’s too delicate.’

‘It’s not like I’ve never touched it before! But point taken.’ She took her hand away and instead leaned forwards, very close to the painting. Cassie was a yoga fiend and it still surprised Alex sometimes how bendy she was, considering her height.

‘I’d need to see the real locket before I could make any judgements. It was more her face I used to study.’ Cassie smiled, a little ruefully. ‘I used to think she was listening to me. I never really noticed her jewellery.’

She sat back on her heels and looked at Alex. With her big, brown eyes she looked exactly like Horace, the estate spaniel, and Alex found himself giving into her the same way everyone gave into Horace. The dog was actually Margaret’s. He came to work with her every day and usually amused himself by wandering around greeting tourists. He was even allowed into the house and it wasn’t unusual for visitors to say they’d seen him sprawled full length on the rug or the bed or the sofas.

And, as if Horace was sitting there begging Alex for a chew, he looked up at Elodie. ‘Will we let her see it then?’

‘Oh – of course. But Cassie, can I just ask you something?’ That was Elodie, her voice still a little wobbly.

‘Sure. Have you got the locket?’ Cassie was obviously determined to see it, just as soon as humanly possible.

‘Yes. But how did you know we were up here?’

‘Oh, easy. I came past the gift shop and Margaret said she’d seen you heading over here. Alex’s clothes suit you, by the way,’ Cassie added impishly. ‘Then I saw you both standing at the attic window, so I knew you must be in here. I only hope I wasn’t disturbing anything.’

‘Why would you think that?’ Alex glanced across at Elodie. Her skin had gone a greenish shade now and she looked a bit sick. And indeed, why shouldn’t she look green? Alex had known Elodie forever. There was only ever that one time after the Prom which hadn’t exactly ended brilliantly …

‘Here? Are you sure?’

‘What’s wrong with here?’

‘Nothing.’ A giggle. ‘It’s just Hughie …’

A soft laugh as he buried his nose in her hair and sniffed the perfumed curls: that floral scent that was forever Elodie. ‘Hughie won’t care.’

She pulled away. ‘But I care. Isn’t there anywhere else …?’

Alex crushed the memories. ‘You can see there’s nothing going on up here,’ he told Cassie, a little too abruptly.

‘That’s not what it looked like from down there,’ she said, obviously unconcerned at his tone. She folded her arms and nodded. ‘I saw you two – hugging each other in that window. Don’t lie.’

‘I’m not lying!’ Alex stared at her. What was she on about?

‘No,’ added Elodie. ‘He’s not.’ She wasn’t green any more, she was white with big pink splotches on her cheeks.

‘Oh,’ said Cassie. She considered it for a moment then seemingly dismissed the thought. The idea of the locket was clearly more interesting than what might or might not have been a trick of the light. ‘Come on then, I’m waiting.’

‘Okay.’ Alex also dismissed the idea for what it most likely was – Cassie seeing Elodie at the window and the rest made up from her imagination. ‘Elodie – shall we let her see it?’

‘Of course.’ Elodie handed it over. ‘Here you go. Sorry, it’s going to be well-nigh impossible to open it, but never mind. We think it might be the same one as the picture, but I’ll be honest. We didn’t really get a chance to study it properly.’

Cassie took hold of the necklace and cupped it in her hands. ‘This is incredible. If it’s genuine, it’s got to be Georgian or Regency or something like that.’

‘I would guess Georgian if it’s related to Georgiana,’ Alex said. ‘Regency was a little later.’

‘Of course.’ Cassie nodded. She hadn’t been brought up in the Hall without knowing the difference between Georgian and Regency, considering the house was a mish-mash of architectural styles and an even bigger mish-mash of previous residents. ‘I could try and clean it.’ She turned it around in her hands. ‘Some warm soapy water should do it if I’m careful and if I use a soft cloth. Or maybe some silver polish and some oil on the hinges. It might at least bring it up a bit. That’s what I did with this, anyway.’ Cassie lifted her arm and a silver bracelet dangled from her wrist. ‘It’s Grannie’s antique one. I used to have it in that old dressing up box over there, then when I got a bit of sense I took it out and decided to wear it. It’s far too pretty to be hidden away.’

She was right. It was a beautiful Art Deco design, right out of the thirties. Alex could remember Grannie wearing it. He’d often wondered where it had disappeared to and now he knew. Cassie the Magpie had clearly struck again. Despite owning a monstrous red and black motorbike and having a penchant for roaring off on road-trips at every opportunity, Cassie had a definite girlie side and did like her jewellery.

‘Well if you think it’ll work.’ Alex shrugged.

‘I’ll try it,’ replied Cassie confidently.

‘Will you be very careful with it?’ asked Elodie. ‘It’s probably really delicate.’

‘Elodie, you really don’t look like yourself.’ Alex stood up and went over to her. He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Is it the dust up here? I never thought.’

‘No. No, it’s not the dust. It’s just Georgiana, and whatever might be hidden in that locket. It’s all a bit overwhelming.’

Elodie sat down on a stool, before her legs gave up on her. Alex’s hands had burned through the thin cotton of the shirt and she could still feel his touch. A traitorous bubble of lust had sprung up from somewhere deep inside her and she couldn’t quite shake the idea of him being dressed like Ben now – as well as still seeing the smile on his face that those latest memories had presented her with.

‘Look,’ she said, pointing at the floor, just to try and shift the attention away from herself, in case her thoughts showed too clearly on her face. ‘The picture’s all rolled up again.’ In actual fact, it had probably been rolled up a while, but it was as good a distraction as she could muster at that point.

Alex swore and knelt down. From here she could see the top of his head and the way his hair kind of fell over his forehead a little and curled around his collar, and the fact that beneath this latest t-shirt was a fine collection of muscles on his back and on his shoulders, shifting and undulating as he moved around, trying to flatten the canvas.

Oh, God. Where had her quiet, pliable childhood friend gone? What had happened when she’d been in London? The changes were subtle, but they were there.

In that moment, Elodie was lost.

Alex. It was over long ago, wasn’t it? Over before it really started …

‘Isn’t there anywhere we can go apart from here? Look. Hughie’s staring. How about the woods?’

‘Well yes, there’s the woods.’

‘Or the shed? Or the greenhouses?’

‘The folly?’

‘The folly sounds good.’

‘You look good.’

A giggle. ‘So do you.’

‘The folly’s a long way away and you really do look good. The Faerie Bridge might be better.’

‘It might be …’

Elodie closed her eyes in a vain attempt to stop the images.

Of course, the reasonable side of her suddenly said, this might all be just because of Georgiana.

Yeah, right, the non-reasonable side of her said rather sarcastically. She opened her eyes and looked again at Alex kneeling on the floor.

‘Come on down here, Elodie, and have another look at this locket.’ Cassie’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Elodie didn’t have a good reason not to kneel beside them, and Cassie bunked over to one side so Elodie was forced to squeeze in between her and Alex. He was so close she could feel the warmth of him and she clenched her fists, ramming them into her thighs so she didn’t suddenly grab him.

‘It might be the same one.’ Elodie’s voice came out surprisingly steadily and she studied the painting. ‘It’ll be so wonderful if you ever get the painting cleaned up, though. Then at least we could see her properly.’

‘Ha! That won’t happen,’ said Cassie with a laugh.

‘How come?’

‘Because I don’t want her to leave the Hall. She’d have to leave the Hall to get cleaned up, because I doubt anyone would come and do it here.’ Cassie leaned into the portrait and smiled at it. ‘She was my heroine growing up. I used to want to know all about her and make up stories. In my daydreams, she was my best friend.’ She looked up at Elodie. ‘Some people have imaginary friends. I didn’t. I had her, and she was very real to me. I was a very weird child.’

‘No, I don’t think you were.’ Elodie smiled. ‘I used to do the same with the tomb. Alex always teased me about it.’

‘That’s because you would chatter away to it as if Georgiana would answer you back!’ said Alex. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the painting either. ‘It would be very wonderful, but Cassie’s right. It’s not going to happen.’

‘I told you, my friend would do it!’ said Elodie. ‘He really would. But yes. I’d maybe have to take it to him.’ She frowned, considering it. ‘I wouldn’t feel right asking him to come all the way up here. But if she can’t leave the Hall…’

‘And there’s your problem,’ replied Alex with a grin. ‘I wouldn’t like to try and talk Cassie into letting her leave the Hall. My sister can be very fierce when she wants to.’ He sent Cassie a teasing glance, then made as if to touch the painted girl’s cheek, but his fingers hovered a few millimetres above her before he seemed to decide against it. ‘But playing match-the-locket is the least of our problems. Remember Georgiana herself is actually missing.’

Maybe just physically! Elodie wanted to say. I’m pretty certain she’s popping in and out of my reality and I don’t feel I can talk about it with you guys right now. Georgiana had apparently made it her business to show Elodie her memories, for whatever reason, and perhaps the locket was part of it. But Alex was right; the locket really was the least of Elodie’s problems at the moment.

Cassie gathered up the necklace and Elodie hoped that she really would be careful with it. It was clearly special; otherwise why would she have supposedly been buried with it?’

Her mind replayed the scene she had just experienced, and she thought there was maybe one way to prove if any of it was real and Georgiana had come back to the Hall briefly. Well maybe there were two ways to check it out.

One – she could get the painting cleaned up and see if it matched the face of Georgiana’s effigy, but she’d have to take it away from the Hall and go down to London for that – and she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk Cassie’s wrath to do that. The second way to check, was if she could find any records of highwaymen being hanged at Tyburn with the name Ben.

Then she realised how ridiculous that was. Even if she could find a Ben who was hanged, all it proved was that a highwayman called Ben had been executed. And there could be dozens of them – it must have been a fairly common name. It didn’t prove it was Georgiana’s Ben. Based on the way he had swept Lucy up into the secrecy, he was clever and quick thinking. He was probably a very good highwayman – and if that was the case, would he even have been caught?

Elodie cast a quick glance up to the window and realised now how the moonlight in those memories made sense. Georgiana had never shown him to her in daylight, because Ben himself wouldn’t have risked being seen other than at night. If the highwayman was in love with someone like Lady Georgiana Kerridge, there was way too much to lose.

Elodie blinked as the sun broke through the last of the clouds, pretty sure that she saw a shadow flit past the window and block the sunlight out again very, very briefly.