Shades of the Past (21 page)

Pulling the box from the shelf, Vanessa sank with it to the floor and lifted off the lid.  To her delight, it contained a thick stack of stereographs, all neatly tied with a creamy satin ribbon and a spray of artificial orange blossoms.  Beside it was a handsome, Holmes-Bates stereoscope by which to view them, the condition new.  With a start, Vanessa recalled the double-lensed stereoscopic camera she'd inherited from Lady Gwen.  These, then, must be some of the pictures Lady Gwen had taken with it.

As she lifted out the bundle of ribbon-wrapped stereographs, she discovered a note at the bottom of the box.  Thinking the note might be somehow significant, she slipped it from its envelope and scanned its content. 

Again, she recognized Lady Gwen's neat script.  The missive was one of congratulations to Adrian and Olivia on the occasion of their marriage.  The stereoscope and stereo cards, with their unique double images, were Lady Gwen's wedding gift to them.  As Vanessa loosed the ribbon and sifted through the collection of stereographs, she saw the pictures they bore were of the couple's wedding itself.

Taking up the viewer, Vanessa fitted the first of the cards onto the holder and peered through the shielded lens.  The figures leaped to life, appearing startlingly solid and three-dimensional.  They could be present in the room, standing on the other side of the stereoscope, they looked so real. 

Of course, she knew how this magic was technically accomplished—two pictures were taken at the same distance from the subject but at slightly different angles.  The idea was to approximate the distance between a person's eyes so that, when the two near-identical photographs were then mounted side-by-side, they rendered an illusion of depth.

Even with that knowledge, Vanessa found it did not detract from the results as she gazed on the two people before her eyes, both smiling and obviously in love—Adrian and a strikingly beautiful woman, Olivia.

 Changing the stereo card for another, and then another, Vanessa began to slowly make her way through the many images and memories of that day.  She recognized the cathedral steps upon which the wedding party posed, and then a stretch of the south lawn where tents were raised for an out-of-doors reception.  From time to time, she felt the air turn chill at her side, reminding her of the entity's presence.

As Vanessa studied the pictures, she couldn't deny Olivia was indeed beautiful.  She stood taller than most women, her figure an enviable hourglass, with ample endowments to say the least.  Her red hair translated to a medium tone of gray, though Nanny had called the color "fiery."

Vanessa felt like a secretive spectator—a trespasser, really—as she examined the last of the pictures.  The particular stereograph she gazed on now showed the couple filling each others’ arms, dancing.  Lady Gwen must have posed them, of course.  The movement would have been far too rapid for the camera's lens and would have printed out as a blur. 

Vanessa affixed the last of the cards, a particularly charming scene of Adrian and Olivia as they left the festivities and entered Sherringham.  A sharp pang of jealousy flashed through Vanessa's heart as she imagined the couple proceeding to their wedding night ahead.  

She closed her eyes and rubbed them, silently upbraiding herself.  She had no right to be jealous, especially knowing this happy day soon lost its luster and ended in such tragedy.  It was just difficult to see Adrian and Olivia like this, so astonishingly realistic that if either took a breath or smiled a little wider, she'd not be surprised.

Vanessa retied the stack of stereo cards and placed them and the stereoscope back in the box.  Unsure of what she'd been expected to find, she'd discovered no shattering revelations.  They were solely wedding photographs.  Perhaps the entity had something more to show her.

Rising, she stretched her legs, since they were feeling slightly numb, then replaced the box on the shelf.  As she straightened, she realized the air had lost its frigid edge. 

"Is there anything more you wish to show me?" she addressed the seemingly empty study.

 When the temperature remained constant, Vanessa assumed she'd been abandoned by her ghostly escort and moved toward the stairs.  She was unsure why the specter wished for her to see the photographs.  On the other hand, the newly exposed plates might contain important clues or information.  There was still time for her to return to the Photo House and develop the negatives, and print them out, before dinner.

Just as Vanessa reached the top of the staircase, the door to the study suddenly opened wide and a man entered in.  Her heart picked up its beat as Adrian looked up and caught sight of her. 

He slowed his step but did not halt until he came to the bottom of the stairs, his eyes never leaving her.  The surprise that first touched his features altered to an unreadable look.  And yet there was heat smoldering in the depths of his midnight eyes as they continued to hold her.

"Adrian . . .”  His name slipped softly from her lips.  She must talk with him.  She must clear away any misunderstandings that lay between them, apologize for any pain she'd caused by her unwitting words.

Vanessa started to descend, her foot leaving the topmost step.  In the same instant, ice-cold air swept over her and she felt a solid push from behind, sending her toppling down the spiraling staircase and over the side into a well of darkness.

Muted voices surrounded Vanessa.  She strained to catch the words, recognizing Adrian's deep, rich tones.  He spoke with another man, Dr. Hambley she thought, and with Cissy . . .

A heavy weight pulled Vanessa downward into the darkness once more.  She sank deeper and deeper then floated a time before climbing once more toward consciousness.

Vanessa dragged open one eye, then the other.  The room swam in her vision then slowed to a stop as she came fully awake.  To her left, a lamp glowed on the stand beside the bed, creating a soft halo of light in the otherwise pitch-dark room.

Silence layered the chamber, the voices now gone, everything utterly still.  For a moment she lay wondering how she'd gotten here in her bedchamber, then remembered falling, headfirst, down the twisting stairs.

Something shifted in the shadows just beyond the lamp, causing Vanessa's breath to catch in her lungs.  A figure leaned forward into the light—a man seated, bracing his elbows on his knees and dragging his fingers through his dark rumpled hair.  Adrian. 

Her heart quickened at the sight of him then slowed.  He looked terrible.  Deep lines etched his face, lines of concern making him appear years older.  He wore no jacket or tie, and his shirt gaped open at the neck, revealing crisp black hair on his chest.  She watched as he clasped his hands together and rested his forehead against them, looking for all the world dismantled by his thoughts. 

Lord in heaven.  Was she the cause of his distress?  Just two days before, she'd stung him with her thoughtless words.  Now, had she somehow afflicted him further?

"Adrian," she called softly.

He lifted his head, surprise skipping through his eyes as he discovered her own eyes open and gazing upon him.  He rose instantly and came to her side.  Easing himself onto the edge of the mattress, he caught up her fingers in his, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand and another to her temple.

"Vanessa, thank God, thank God!  You've been unconscious for hours.  I feared you might never awaken." 

Vanessa could scarcely find her voice, overcome as much by his words as by his actions, the touch of his lips still warming her flesh.

He smiled, his gaze consuming her.  "You scared several more lives out of me, you know.  I'm not sure I have any left."  

Vanessa returned his smile, relishing his nearness, relishing the feel of his hands holding hers.  If this was a dream, she didn't wish to wake.

Her gaze drifted over his fine features and wondrously long lashes, then strayed to his cheek and the side of his eye.  Even in the dim light, she could make out a bruise spreading there.

"Adrian, you are hurt.  What happened?"  Reaching up, she feathered her fingers over his jaw, below the discoloration.  "Who did this to you?"

"You did, my darling. Your elbow caught me when I broke your fall.  You do remember falling, do you not?"

"Falling?" she stumbled over the word, her mind veering back to fixate on two previous words out of his mouth—"my darling."

"Your head struck the railing," he continued, seemingly unaware of his use of the endearment.  "You flipped over the staircase entirely and knocked yourself unconscious in the bargain." 

Sitting back, Adrian turned to the bedside stand and began to pour her a glass of water from a small decanter there.

"How are you feeling?" he asked with a forced brightness that did little to veil his concern.  "Dr. Hambley had to leave for another emergency, but he'll return as soon as he is able in the morning.  Meanwhile, he’s instructed Cissy and myself thoroughly in your care.

Vanessa smiled at the thought of Adrian caring for her and noted that Cissy had apparently been dismissed for the night.  

"I feel as well as can be expected, I suppose.  Whatever aches and pains I've gained will just be added to those from my spill off Delilah."

Adrian set the glass and decanter down and braced his hands on his knees.  He lowered his head as some disturbing thought crowded in, weighing heavily upon him.

"This is my fault," he said at last, then shoved to his feet and began to pace.  "Vanessa, you might have been killed, and I am to blame."

Vanessa stared at him, stunned.  "Adrian, what are you talking about?"

He turned back to her, his eyes like onyx in the faint light. 

"Twice, within the space of four days, you have been injured seriously—at the mausoleum and now on those damnable stairs." 

Vanessa struggled to sit upright, wincing at the pain the movement brought.  "You cannot blame yourself for my mishaps, Adrian."

"Mishaps?"  He vented a short laugh.  "If only they were that and no more.  At least then I could better protect you."  He raked a hand through his hair then turned to face her.  "Do you not see?  I am a man cursed.  I didn't wish to believe so, but I can deny it no longer."

Adrian crossed to the bed and lowered himself beside her once more.  Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through her thick fall of hair, sweeping it back from her shoulders.

"My lovely Vanessa, when I saw you fall and then held you, pale and seemingly lifeless in my arms, I realized how greatly I've come to love you.  So greatly in fact, that for your own sake, I must now leave.  Whatever curse plagues my existence, it has claimed two wives from me already.  I will not allow it to endanger you."   

He framed her face with his hands, pain cleaving his eyes.  "I
must
leave you, my darling.  It is the only way to keep this scourge from harming you."

Vanessa began to protest but his mouth descended over hers, drawing the very breath from her soul as he kissed her long and deep.  He broke the kiss as abruptly as he began it.  Pulling away, he rose to leave, his face a tortured mask once more. 

"I'll send Mrs. Timmons to sit with you until Dr. Hambley returns."

Vanessa panted for breath, her mind racing to put order to all he'd just said.  Adrian loved her.  But deemed himself cursed.  Quite nobly, he intended to leave her, in order to save her from himself.  Or the curse.

Panic seized her as Adrian stopped before the door and reached for the handle.  Sliding her legs from beneath the covers and onto the floor, she stood, took two wobbly steps, and grabbed for the bedpost. 

"Adrian, don't leave!  You are
not
cursed.  Nothing that has befallen me is in any way your fault.  It was the ghost that pushed me.  The same ghost that caused Delilah to bolt."

Adrian pivoted slowly in place. 

"Ghost?
  Sweet Vanessa, you hit your head far harder than I thought."

Vanessa realized her explanation sounded more nonsensical than his.  Perhaps they were both a bit crazed, but she wasn't about to let him walk out of her life so easily.  Not when he’d confessed his love, and she must face the truth in her own heart. 

"Adrian, what I am saying is true.  There
is
a ghost.  I have proof of it—a photograph, showing the specter in the Tudor gallery."

"The photograph you took at tea?  I thought you said the form in the window was an aberration of light."

Vanessa shook her head.  "There is another picture, taken the following day inside the gallery itself.  The image is quite distinct—a luminous figure of a woman, beckoning toward the camera.  Adrian, at the moment I released the camera's shutter, she was beckoning to
me.
"

Adrian's eyes widened at that, but he continued to wear a look of disbelief. 

"I thought the Marrables acknowledge Sherringham is haunted.  Surely you believe so.  You've witnessed apparitions yourself."  She tipped her head to one side.  "Or were you and your family leading me on the other night?"

"I have seen ghostly apparitions, it is true.  But that was long ago.  In any case, what does the photograph have to do with your fall on the staircase?"

"Nothing.  And everything.  There's more I must tell you." 

He raised an eyebrow, but it quickly weighed with concern as Vanessa flinched, pin-pricks of pain suddenly spilling down her spine.

“You are far from well, my darling, and pale as a wraith yourself.  Tell me what you will, but do so abed.” 

Adrian aided her back beneath the covers and propped pillows behind her, raising her partially upright.  With Adrian beside her, Vanessa began to recount how the entity first manifested itself on the day of Lady Gwen's funeral, and, subsequently, how a spectral cold had followed her about the mansion and grounds.

"It was the ghost that spooked Delilah.  I had just developed the second exposure of the gallery and decided to ride out.  I was quite disturbed with this new finding
and still struggling with accepting it.  Delilah and I both sensed an unnatural presence at the Abbey Ruin and again at the mausoleum.  You were right when you said Delilah was terrified.  She was panicked, but not from the rabbit that darted across our path."

"You're serious." Amazement colored his tone, the words more comment than question.

"See the photograph for yourself.  It is in the long worktable, left of the door as you enter the Photo House.  Look in the rightmost drawer."

Adrian held her gaze a long moment.  "I do not doubt your honesty, my darling, and I will examine it later.  But tell me about today.  What happened exactly?"

Vanessa glanced down at her hands and back.  If he didn't deem her balmy already, surely he would now. 

"The entity manifested itself at the Photo House.  I believed it wanted me to follow it, so I did."

"You followed it?  How?"

"By the cold.  It has a form of sorts—like a sphere of bitter cold air.  It led me to the West library and to the upper gallery there.  Adrian, it directed me specifically to the box containing the stereoscope and stereo cards.  For some reason, it wanted me to see the pictures of—“

"My wedding?  To Olivia?"

"Yes."  Heat rose to her cheeks.  "You'll think it terribly rude of me, but I confess, I viewed them all."

"Darling Vanessa, you don't possess a rude bone in your body.  Many filled with curiosity, perhaps, but none rude."  Adrian flashed her a smile, then dragged a thumb over his bottom lip as he turned his thoughts.  "Have you any idea why this 'entity' you followed wished for you to see the stereo cards of the wedding?"

"Either for me to discover something specific in the pictures themselves, or—" she paused and moistened her lips—"Adrian, it's possible the specter was identifying itself—herself—as Olivia.”

Adrian sat back, surprise lighting his eyes.  Vanessa immediately regretted her words.

"That is only one possibility.  There are others.  Many, I should imagine, given Sherringham's long history of hauntings."

Adrian rose and began to pace once more.  "I'd begun to wonder of late if Olivia might have survived the carriage accident and yet lives.  Cameron wired me, insisting she was dead and to get on with my life."

"Cameron?"

"Cameron Kincaid.  He's a detective with Scotland Yard."  Adrian stopped his pacing and halted before her.  "You've heard mention that the Marrable jewels are missing?"

Vanessa nodded.  "I understand Olivia had them in her possession the night she died.  The maid accompanying her somehow escaped the accident and disappeared with them."

His eyes widened at her disclosure.  She'd forgotten that Adrian would assume her to be uninformed on the matter.  Gratefully, he chose not to question her as to how she came by her knowledge.

"What you may not know, darling, is that some of the jewels have reappeared—four to be exact.  Cameron contends the maid, Bonnie Beckford, is selling them off.  I could not help but wonder whether there could have been a switch of identities, and that it is Olivia who is selling the jewels.  However, the Yard now has a description of the woman.  She is quite obviously not Olivia."

“But, Adrian, if possibly your wife
is
alive, might she have sent someone else to sell the jewels?"

"Not Olivia.  She knew their value and would want to be assured she received their full worth."  He vented a breath.  "I find I must agree with Cameron after all, not that that disappoints me.  You said the entity pushed you on the stairs.  That occurred as I entered the room.  Perhaps, the ghost is Olivia after all.  She always was the jealous type."

Vanessa bit her lip.  "Adrian, I'm really not sure it was her.  I can't quite explain it, but I sensed no malice.  I truly think the ghost was trying to tell me something."

"Even when it pushed you?"

"Especially then.  Perhaps I'll learn more when I develop the plates I exposed today."  She creased her brows.  "The camera and box of plates weren't damaged, were they?

"No, not at all."

"Good.  They may reveal something of significance."
 

Memories of the entity's agitation at the foot of the staircase swarmed back.  She set aside those thoughts and gave Adrian her brightest smile. 

"So you see, no curse caused my accidents.  There is no reason for you to leave."

He lifted her hand and stroked his thumb over the back of it.  "Perhaps you should reconsider remaining here at Sherringham, if you are the object of otherworldly interest.  Though we've long accepted ghostly presences, they've never been so active or brought harm to anyone."