Nine Steps to Sara (18 page)

“I don’t like it.” Will maintained.  “Power or not, Sara won’t stand for anyone threatening young Jack.  If she thinks there’s a threat to him she might take him away.”

“Then best you see to it she doesn’t do that,” Mrs. Poole snapped, and Sara clapped a hand over her mouth to hide the gasp that slipped out. 

“How am I to do that?  She’s a mind of her own in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Cold hard reason, Will, that’s your ammunition,” Thomas replied.  “There’s no cause for her to fear for Jack’s safety, the Lady wouldn’t dare touch him.”

“I don’t like this, keeping her in the dark over any of it.”  Sara could practically hear the scowl on Will’s face and she wondered what they’d all do if she came down the rest of the stairs. 

“It’s how it has to be for now.  Americans are a skittish lot; they have no sense of history.  Once she’s settled in a bit more, why then we’ll tell her all our horrors stories, but for now, it’s best she isn’t troubled by it.  You don’t want her to leave, do you?”

“Of course not,” Will answered quickly, “But if she keeps asking questi
ons, I’ll not lie to her.”

“Leave that to us,” Mrs. Poole replied in a voice that sent a shiver down Sara’s spine.  Was that meant to be comforting?  Creeping back up the stairs, wincing over every squeak both real and imagined for fear of discovery, Sara didn’t breathe again until she reached the safety of her door. 

What had she managed to put herself in the middle of?  Even worse; was Jack really in danger?

* * *

The next morning took forever to arrive.  All night long, Sara heard the creaking noise every time she started to drift off.  In the wee hours of the night, she caught a few snatches of sleep as she started to get used to it, but her eyes felt tired and gritty when the sun finally came up.  A hot shower made her feel marginally better, but her reflection looked pale and listless in the mirror as she dressed for the day.

A tap at the door made her jump, and she swallowed back a wave of nerves as she called out, “who is it?”

“It’s Katie.  I’ve come to see to the fire, unless you wish me to come back later?”

“Come in,” Sara allowed, pleased to see the maid remember her rule about knocking first before entering. 

“You’re up bright and early, my Lady.  Do you have a busy day planned?”

“No, I just… hey, it stopped.”  All at once, Sara realized she didn’t hear the creaking sound any more.  “Did you hear a creaking sound before?  Like the sound an old rocking chair would make?”

“No, I heard nothing.  As far as I know you’re the only one up and about this early except for the servants.”

“Oh,” Sara leaned against the side of the bed, watching Katie poke at the fire until flames licked at the wood.  “Katie, have you heard any stories around here about a woman in the fog who jumps in front of cars?”  She was counting on the fact that Mrs. Poole might not have issued her a gag order on the subject yet.

“Oh, you mean the Lady of the Road?” Katie’s eyes grew bright with excitement.  “We’ve all heard that one before.”

“What’s the story?”  Sara patted the bed beside her, and Katie left the poker behind to come closer; though she didn’t take a seat.

“It goes back for years and years.  I’ve never seen her myself, but it’s told there was a great Lady who tried to run away from the big house.  No one would stop for her, fearing to catch holy hell from the Baronet, until she threw herself down in front of the next car in desperation.”

“So she died out on the road?”

“I’m not sure,” Katie’s brow crumpled.  “There are some versions that she got up and climbed into the car, neat as you please, and there are others that she was never really there to begin with.  But the stories heard around these parts in the years to follow all agree that a ghostly Lady throws herself in front of a passing car, but disappears without a trace.”

“That’s exactly what happened to me last night,” Sara sighed, leaning back against the bedpost and Katie’s mouth dropped.

“You’re bamming me!  You really saw her?”

“Sort of, it was pretty fast.  Then we both felt the bump as the car hit her
,
but she was gone by the time we got outside to check it out.”

“I’ve never met anyone who actually saw her before.  Not anyone I’d believe anyways,” Katie’s awe lent a breathy whisper to her voice. 

“And you say she was supposed to be from
Darling
Park
?  Wife of the Baronet?  Do you know which one?”

“I don’t recall the name ever being given, but it was more than
nine
ty years ago.”

Sara digested that for a moment; there had to be more information on her somewhere if she was one of her ancestors.  “Thanks, Katie.  Why don’t you go take a tray up to Joanie, I’m betting she’
ll
be pretty worn out today after that fall.  Actually… give it another hour or so, I think she turns to dust if she wakes up this early.”

“As you say,” Katie hid a smile behind her hand.  “You should have heard her swearing up a blue streak last night when she caught sight of her backside in the mirror.  I’ve never heard such words!”

“I can imagine,” Sara smiled thinly.  “Katie… if you see or hear anything strange in the house, please come and tell me,
alright
?”

“Strange like what?”

“Anything at all,” Sara left it open ended, not wanting to limit the girl’s experience or send her imagination in the wrong direction.

“If you like, my Lady,” she bobbed, making her exit. 

On the way downstairs, Sara decided breakfast could wait; there was something she wanted to check out first.  All along it had been niggling the back of her mind, how the woman from her dream, who may or may not be the Lady of the Road, had looked familiar.  News that she’d once been a Lady of the Manor seemed to clinch it, but there was one place she thought would clear things up. 

Making a beeline for the wall of family portraits hanging in the library, her eyes scanned the ancient brushstrokes until she found what she was looking for.  Larger than life, the woman stared back at her from the painting. 

“Well hello, Lady Darling,” Sara murmured. 

Sara peered up at the painting, set midway up the wall, a few feet above eye level.  The same eyes, the same lips, the same hair as the woman from her dreams, she was styled in clothing from
the nineteen-twenties, a
large emerald necklace wrapped around her throat catching the eye.  Face serene, her body language told a different story.  Her entire posture was stiff as a board beside her husband, who stood stern-faced, his hand on her shoulder.  Her body turned away from his; the artist managed to convey the tension in the hands clasped together in her lap, holding tight to a scrap of lacy handkerchief.

Rising up on her tiptoes, Sara cou
ld barely manage to read the engraved plate on the front of the heavy wooden frame.  “Sir Edward Darling, Baronet and Lady Gemma Darling,”
her lips moved as she read the names
. 

“There you are, my Lady,” Mrs. Poole entered briskly.  “Katie told me you were up and about.  Not feeling hungry this morning?”

Sara whirled around, trying to keep the guilty look off her face.  “No, I wanted to pick up a book… for Jack,” she reached for the first book she could lay her hands on.  Unable to keep from feeling a little wary around the housekeeper after eavesdropping the night before, Sara fixed her with an uneasy smile. 

“I think the boy’s spent more time in here than in the playroom, bless him,” she chuckled softly. 

The sincere warmth in her voice knocked Sara for a loop; was she reading too much into the conversation?  “Yes, he does love to read.”  For a moment she considered asking her if she knew anything about Gemma Darling, but decided against it.  Even if her reasons were well intended, Mrs. Poole wanted to keep her in the dark, and any answer she gave couldn’t be taken at face value. 

“I’m glad I caught you.  I’ve hired on a new cook, a Mrs. Saunders from
Dorchester
, she’ll be starting tomorrow along with a kitchen maid.  I’ll be posting an advert for the rest of the staff in the Sunday Echo.  Have you given any thought to whether you’ll be requiring a tutor for
Sir
Jack?”

“Oh,” the question threw Sara for a loop.  “
I should probably do that, yeah,
”
she
said carefully, an idea popping like a flashbulb.  “I’d love to learn more about the family’s legacy.  Do we have any books on the Darling family tree?”  

“There are parts of the family’s history scattered through many of the books here,” Mrs. Poole replied vaguely. “There’s quite a rousing account of Sir Walter Darling’s travels through
Southern Africa
I believe,” she went to a shelf and squinted at it for a few moments before selecting an oversized volume. 

“Thank you,” Sara smiled accepting the book, titled
Protector of the Veldt
.  “Wow, an explorer, huh?” her eyes skimmed over the forward that acknowledged the author’s thanks to several of his cronies for providing personal anecdotes of their travels.  Sir Walter’s was just one of them.  Not exactly what she’d had in mind.  “Is there anything closer to home?  Like, say about the house?  I don’t even know when this place was built.”

“I imagine so, you have only to find them,” she waved to the shelves and Sara should have expected an answer like that.  If there was a book with dirt on the family’s secrets, Mrs. Poole would want her as far away as possible.

“Did Will tell you about our little scare last night?” Sara tried again, watching her closely, but she gave nothing away; butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.  

“Not that I recall,” she busied herself making unnecessary adjustments to the drapes.  “He did mention staying at the house for a time
;
I must say I think it’s a fine idea.”

“You do?” Sara blinked.   

“I think it’s a very sound idea to see to your safety in case that unwanted visitor puts in another appearance.  I put him in the room next to yours.” 

“Next to mine?  You mean the Lady’s suite?  I thought it wasn’t suitable…” otherwise, why hadn’t she been allowed in there?  The room had been locked up tight since her arrival. 

“I’ve had time to air it sufficiently and change the mattress out.  Will assures me he’ll do fine with a few frills for a time,” she chuckled as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

So he’d be in the room adjoining the master suite?
  That meant they’d share a bathroom; a little more togetherness than she’d anticipated after a single date, but it made
a
midnight tiptoe down the hallway all that more tempting.  Somehow she found it hard to believe Mrs. Poole would find that acceptable, but there she was, puttering over the windows as though they were discussing what to serve for dinner.  Was Will playing up the danger for a chance at staying close to her, or did he really think the ghostly woman might pose a threat?  There was only one way to find out.   

“Is he… have you seen Will around here this morning?”

“I haven’t seen him, no.  We haven’t had a formal meal time for the servants, but I imagine that will change once we have a proper cook.  Would you like me to send for him?  I could send Thomas to the village if you like.”

“N
o, that’s
alright
, I’ll catch him later,” Sara waved away the offer, not wanting to make a fuss.  “Oh, before I forget, his father will be stopping by sometime today, so please come find me when he gets here.”

“Mr. Talbot is coming here?”

“If that’s Will’s dad,” Sara replied with a sheepish smile as she realized she had no idea what Will’s last name was.  “We’re going to talk about restoring the grounds; draw up a plan of attack...”