The Silent Touch of Shadows (18 page)

He looked so real, though. His tall, muscular body was dressed in some kind of dark tunic and his legs were encased in tight-fitting hose, which showed off powerful thighs. He was wearing short leather boots and at his waist hung a gleaming, lethal sword. The man was confidence personified, and she almost expected him to sling her over his shoulder and carry her off to bed. She wouldn’t have lifted a finger to resist him.

The realisation hit her with sickening clarity that she was sitting there grinning like a love-sick adolescent at a ghost, but she couldn’t help it. She had absolutely no control over her emotions concerning this man, and she simply stared at him, waiting. For what, she didn’t know.

‘Sweeting, you must help me, please.’
His voice broke the spell. As before, it seemed to come from far away at first, but when he repeated the words she heard them clearly. The terrible sensation of loss assailed her again, and she felt the tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

‘How?’ she managed to whisper. ‘How, Roger?’

He said nothing for a moment, but his gaze grew pensive.
‘The ring will help you. Search, sweeting
 
…’

The apparition faded slowly, but Melissa stayed motionless in the chair for a long while afterwards. Indeed, her limbs felt as if they were made of the heaviest granite, and the unbearable sadness filled her mind to overflowing. A shuddering sigh went through her and she tried to gather her wits.

Am I going crazy?
Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands as she clenched them in frustration. No, as far as she could make out she was entirely sane. The first time she had been ill, and could possibly have been hallucinating, but tonight she was healthy and completely awake. Therefore she could only conclude that ghosts really did exist. She just couldn’t doubt her own eyes.

There had to be a logical explanation for his presence in this house, however. Who was Roger? Was he indeed Sybil’s long-lost lover, the father of her child? Was he a Yorkist outlaw? And how was he connected to Ashleigh? Melissa was entirely convinced now that somehow, somewhere he had existed. Tossing her long hair over her shoulder impatiently, she stood up, raising her chin in determination.

‘Well I’m damned well going to find out,’ she vowed. She would start on Monday, and never mind Mr Tylson’s family tree. He could wait.

Chapter Thirteen

‘Sir Gilbert. Good of you to see me.’

John of Ashleigh strode down the hall towards the dais, where his host awaited him, stony-faced. Sibell trailed a few steps behind. Her father had allowed her to accompany him to Idenhurst, but she’d been told to keep quiet and stay out of the way. ‘And we’re not staying long,’ her father had added.

Her father attempted an ingratiating smile, obviously trying his best to be jovial, but his attempts fell flat. His discomfort in the other man’s presence was making him squirm visibly and Sibell bit her lip. Although Sir Gilbert was normally a cordial host, there was an underlying coldness in his manner this day which appeared to be penetrating even John’s thick skin. Sibell wished herself anywhere but here.

‘Please, be seated,’ Sir Gilbert said, but Sibell noticed that they were not offered any refreshment. He turned to Sibell. ‘Why don’t you run up to the solar, my dear? I’m certain Maude would appreciate your company.’

Sibell glanced to her father for permission and he nodded reluctantly. He looked as if he had chewed on something sour, but his face soon became wreathed in smiles once more when Sir Gilbert called for wine at last. Sibell made her escape.

The solar was empty and Sibell sent a serving maid to look for Maude. While she waited, she became absorbed in a beautifully bound book called
Troilus & Creseyd
by Geoffrey Chaucer, which was lying on the table. It was the story of a perfect, gentle knight and Sibell seized on it with alacrity, although she treated it with great care, since she knew it was very valuable. She loved Chaucer’s stories, and anything that offered escape from reality, if only for a while, was a welcome distraction. Reading was one of her favourite pastimes, and one she’d learned here at Idenhurst. Unfortunately, she seldom had the opportunity to indulge in it, since her father considered books a waste of money.

‘Mistress Sibell, we meet again.’

Sibell looked up, eyes widening. ‘Sir Roger!’ She leapt up from the bench. He had managed to startle her yet again. The man moved as gracefully as a fox and just as quietly. Sibell felt herself blush furiously as she recalled that his was the face she had pictured while reading about the perfect Troilus. Perhaps her thoughts had conjured him out of thin air. She frowned slightly and wondered what he was doing there. ‘Should
 
… should you be up here?’ That sounded rude, so she attempted a feeble joke. ‘This room is normally full of women and only the bravest of men walk into this lion’s den.’

‘You don’t think me courageous enough? Once again you wound me, mistress.’ The broad grin on his face belied his words, even as he dramatically put a hand over his heart. ‘To be honest, I wouldn’t have ventured here if the Lady Maude hadn’t told me to come and keep you company,’ he admitted. ‘She’s been detained for longer than she thought and didn’t want you to become bored.’

Sibell’s mouth fell open in astonishment. ‘Keep me company?’ she managed faintly. Had her former mother-in-law lost her mind? There was no one in sight to chaperone her, and although she was officially a widow, at eighteen she was still considered in need of protection. She surveyed the room surreptitiously, but they were indeed completely alone. As Sir Roger moved closer, she backed away slightly, ready to flee if the need should arise. Quite what she feared, she wasn’t sure, but she knew it would be wrong to let him stay.

Roger seemed to sense that his presence was unnerving her and he walked over to study the view outside the window for a while. This gave her time to become used to his nearness, but when he returned his gaze to her, she still felt her heart increase its rhythm.

‘What brings you here this fine day?’ he enquired politely.

‘My father had business with Sir Gilbert. Something about a bridge between their properties which has been damaged by the recent weather.’

‘I see. Well, come and tell me how you have been faring,’ he urged, settling himself at her feet on a large cushion. She cast him a wary look – he was still far too close for comfort – but he patted the bench she stood by and she reluctantly sank down on it.

‘I
 
… I am well, thank you.’ She swallowed hard and picked up the book she had been reading to hold as a shield in front of herself.

He leaned forward and caught her gaze. ‘Truly?’

‘Well, yes, why shouldn’t I be?’

‘No more beatings then?’

She gasped and dropped the precious volume, then turned her head away. ‘No,’ she whispered.

He retrieved the book and put it gently on a nearby table. ‘I just wanted to make certain. During our ride together, I couldn’t help but notice that you were in pain.’

Sibell raised her chin a notch. ‘That was due to a misunderstanding between my father and myself. He has arranged a marriage for me, which I was reluctant to consider at first.’ Her lips tightened. ‘I know it’s my duty to obey him, but when he told me he expected me to marry Sir Fulke, I own I was a bit taken aback.’

‘Not Sir Fulke of Thornby?’ At her nod, his brows came together in a heavy scowl. ‘Why, that’s barbaric. The man must be, what? Three score?’

‘Perhaps not quite as old as that
 
…’

‘Almost then. I don’t wonder at it you were unwilling.’

‘It’s a brilliant match according to my father.’ Sibell’s voice wasn’t entirely steady and had lost its defiance. She blinked away unshed tears.

‘No, it’s impossible. Can’t Sir Gilbert help you? I mean, he was your father-in-law until recently. And surely you’ve told the Lady Maude you are being coerced?’

‘Yes, of course I have and she’s doing her best, but we are no longer related, so there is little either of them can do, at least officially.’ Sibell paused and looked around, making sure they were truly alone. ‘Can you keep a secret?’ she whispered. She didn’t know why she trusted him, but for some unknown reason she did.

‘Upon my honour, your secrets are safe with me.’

‘Lady Maude is trying to think of a way to rescue me. If all else fails, she will take me to stay for a while with her sister who lives in the north. Without informing father, of course,’ she murmured into his ear, then realised just how close he was. Her breathing quickened.

He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped and gazed at her instead. An arrested expression entered his eyes, then he sighed and shook his head as if capitulating. Sibell felt as though she was drowning in a sea of emotion and didn’t understand what was happening. Roger brought up a hand to caress her cheek, a slight frown still creasing his brow.

‘I think perhaps there may be another way,’ he told her softly.

His hand was warm and a bit rough and his touch sent a shiver down her spine. There was a faint smell of horse and leather on his skin, but also some exotic spice and a clean scent that was all his own. Sibell breathed it in, storing it in her memory. She didn’t draw away from him and when he rose to his knees before her, she knew he was going to kiss her. Mesmerised, she watched Roger’s mouth descend towards her own. For some reason, his nearness had ceased to alarm her. Instead, she revelled in it and closed her eyes in expectation of his touch.

His kiss was soft and feather-light, a mere brushing of lips against lips, but his mouth returned to caress hers again and again, until neither could stand it any longer and sought to increase the contact. He stayed on his knees in front of her, his head on a level with hers. With a groan he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly into his embrace. The kiss deepened and Sibell felt as if she was spinning in a maelstrom of sensations. Only his strong arms were holding her upright. She leaned into him and returned the kiss measure for measure. Never had she experienced anything like it.

‘Sibell, you are so beautiful,’ he murmured against her cheek, as they paused to draw breath.

Sibell didn’t believe his words. She knew she wasn’t a beauty and never would be, but it didn’t matter just now. She was also fully aware that she should not allow this to continue, but his soft breath stirred her senses even more. When he returned his mouth to hers and sought entrance with a questing tongue, she opened for him willingly. He tasted wonderful.

The spell was broken by the sound of a door closing on the floor below, and heavy footsteps on the stairs outside the solar. Reluctantly they drew apart, still staring at each other in wonder, until with a shuddering sigh Sibell began to straighten her head covering.

‘I’ll come and see you at Ashleigh,’ Roger whispered, just before Maude entered the room carrying refreshments. When Sibell raised anxious eyes to his, he added, ‘I’ll be careful, never fear.’

The journey to Maidstone took the best part of an hour in the morning traffic, but once there Melissa quickly found her way to the Kent History and Library Centre. She knew the records for mid- and southern Kent were held there – including those for the area around Ashleigh Manor – following a recent move into this new purpose-built facility.

As she entered the building and made her way to the records department, she reflected on her good fortune in having a job she enjoyed so much. And now that Jolie had settled happily into her new school and had Dorothy to come home to in the afternoon, she felt better about leaving her in order to do the necessary research.

In the reception area Melissa signed in at the desk and confirmed her booking of a seat and microfilm reader. She deposited her jacket and bag in a locker and, armed with a pencil and notepad, she headed for the search room.

As always, it was a hive of quiet activity even this early in the day, with scores of eager family historians beavering away over their microfiche or film readers. They were mostly elderly people who pursued their elusive ancestors as a hobby, but Melissa noticed there were a handful of professional researchers present as well. Some of them were known to her and she nodded to a few.

Behind the information desk, Melissa saw the archivist, who was a good friend of hers. She and Jenny had been at university together and the two had become very close, sharing as they did a love of all things past. She waited while Jenny attempted to explain the index system of the 1851 Census to a lady in her early seventies. It proved to be a monumental task, as the woman had a faulty hearing aid and everything had to be repeated at least twice. Melissa saw Jenny heave a sigh of relief when the woman finally took herself off. When she turned to her next customer with a friendly smile firmly plastered to her face, she found Melissa grinning at her.