The Silent Touch of Shadows (21 page)

Melissa went to have a closer look, but as she came nearer her limbs suddenly became numb with fear and refused to move. She vaguely heard Russ growling at something, then alarm bells went off inside her head, causing her heart to beat faster in a rhythm of pure, abject terror. She began to shake and put her hands out for support. The only thing they encountered was the solid form of Jake, who looked at her in surprised concern.

‘What’s wrong? Are you feeling faint again?’ He took her arm and led her over to an old tree-trunk nearby. Her knees buckled and she sank down gratefully.

‘I’m okay,’ she lied. ‘Sorry, but I’ve been ill recently, bad bout of flu. I think perhaps the walk was a bit too much for me.’ She didn’t want to tell him of the fear, since she knew it was completely irrational.

‘Put your head down and breathe deeply,’ Jake instructed, and Melissa did as she was told. His hand on her back, unconsciously stroking her with soothing movements, helped to ease the rigidity of her muscles. At last the panic subsided and she started to breathe normally again.

Melissa looked around. ‘Where’s Russ?’

‘Over there.’ Jake pointed along the path. ‘I think he’s ready to go home. Maybe it’s his dinner time?’

They stayed for a short while longer, before heading back to the manor house and, walking next to Jake, Melissa felt safe. Safe from what, she didn’t know. She only knew that she’d never go near the bridge again if she could help it.

Chapter Fifteen

‘
Psst.
Sibell, over here.’

The softly hissed words made Sibell jump and look around in a panic. There was no one in sight, but the sound had come from the walled kitchen garden. She made sure no one was watching, then with a few hesitant steps, she went through the gate.

A pair of huge arms enveloped her swiftly and held her in an almost vice-like grip, but she wasn’t frightened. She knew instinctively who her captor was and she didn’t resist but smiled and looked into eyes as blue as the forget-me-nots in the nearby flower beds. A tremor of pleasure coursed through her.

‘Roger.’ She glanced around furtively once more. ‘You are taking a great risk. If my father or brothers should see you, they’d beat you to a pulp.’

‘Do you think so?’ His smile was infectious, but she tried to stay serious.

‘Well, they’d try anyway.’

‘Shhh
 
…’ He put a finger to her soft lips. ‘Don’t worry. Hugone tells me they all rode out a while ago. It’s unlikely they’ll return for some time.’ He grinned and pulled her closer. ‘And Hugone is keeping watch.’ He lowered his mouth to capture hers in a searing kiss.

She tried to protest. ‘You shouldn’t
 
… we can’t
 
… I mean, it isn’t right.’

He took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes. ‘Yes, it is. I love you, Sibell, so nothing could be more right than this. Now do you trust me?’ She nodded. ‘Then just love me back and all will be well.’

Without further thought she twined her arms around his neck. ‘I do,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, I do.’

It was a long time before she emerged from his embrace.

As he rode back to Idenhurst some time later, Roger had to admit he wasn’t as confident as he’d pretended to be. For one thing, he wasn’t getting anywhere with his quest to find out who his father might have been. And for another, he knew Sibell’s father would never tolerate a match between them, even if she hadn’t already been spoken for.

There has to be a way.

‘Hugone, do you think I’ve run mad?’ he asked.

‘What? No!’ The young squire looked startled to be asked such a direct question, but when he saw Roger smile at his response, he added with a cheeky grin, ‘You’re just in love, sir. They say that’s a madness in itself, don’t they?’

Roger sighed. ‘Yes, it surely is.’ He shook his head. ‘Never thought it would happen to me. In fact, I was determined not to allow it, but God decided otherwise.’ He had a vague feeling he might be blaspheming here, since what he felt for Sibell was more earthly than godly. But since his intentions were honourable, he felt sure the Lord would understand.

‘Happens to everyone, so I’m told,’ Hugone commented. ‘And she’s a lovely lady, to be certain.’ He blushed as only an adolescent could, a fiery red that spread to the tips of his ears.

Roger laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad I’m not the only who thinks so.’

‘Oh, no. I’ve heard lots of other men commenting as she passes at Idenhurst, sir.’

‘Have you now?’ Roger didn’t like the small demon of jealousy that rose up at hearing this. He’d never been jealous of anything or anyone in his life before. He forced himself to relax. Sibell was his and no one could change that.

All he had to do was make it legal somehow.

Jake was as good as his word and came over two days after their walk to hand Melissa some old papers he’d found in the attic. She was shocked at how pleased she was to see him again and did her best to suppress a wide smile of welcome. This was business, nothing else, and the fact that he looked like her dream lover was neither here nor there, she told herself firmly.

‘I’ve jotted down as many details of my family as I could recall, like you said.’ He handed her a separate sheet of paper. ‘I called my mother and my aunt and they filled in a few gaps for me. It’s amazing the things some people remember.’

‘Yes, old people are a great source of information, although you can’t always trust them. They often try to hide the skeletons in the cupboard while embellishing the family’s origins. You wouldn’t believe how many people claim to be related to royalty, one way or another. Then they get annoyed with me when I can’t prove it. Thanks anyway, this will help me get started.’ Melissa glanced at the information he had written down. ‘Oh, so your family came from this area?’

‘Yes, I have many happy memories of visiting my grandparents here when I was a child. I think that was part of the reason I jumped at the chance to work in this town.’

Melissa put the papers on the hall table, then made the mistake of looking up into Jake’s eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and the strange feelings of
déjà vu
returned. She stared at him, unable to move so much as a finger, and he appeared equally captivated. A door opened somewhere at the back of the house, but she hardly noticed. They remained motionless. Nothing existed except this man, this moment. She desperately wanted him to kiss her and her eyelids half-closed in anticipation.

‘Hello, Jake, nice to see you again.’ Dorothy’s cheery voice broke the spell. Melissa came out of her trance and hurriedly looked away. Fortunately Dorothy continued on her way and didn’t stop for a chat. Melissa studied the stone-flagged floor, incapable of speech.

Jake cleared his throat. ‘I, er
 
… I was just about to tell you how nice you look today.’

Her eyes flew to his to see whether he was joking as she wasn’t wearing anything special, but he seemed perfectly serious. Her stomach did a little somersault. ‘Why, thank you. It’s very kind of you to say so.’

‘Not at all. I always tell the truth. Vets aren’t allowed to lie, it’s against the rules.’ He winked at her. ‘Right, I’d better be going then. Let me know how you get on. Bye.’

Melissa was left staring after him in confusion. Did he really find her attractive? Was she attractive? After Steve’s departure she had seriously begun to doubt it, but having coped on her own for over a year her self-confidence was slowly returning. Anyway, didn’t they say that beauty was ‘in the eye of the beholder’? Well, that brought her back to her first question – whether Jake found her attractive. With a muttered oath she cut off this train of thought and stomped off down the corridor, grabbing the papers from the table as she went. She wasn’t supposed to care what he thought. She didn’t want a man in her life.

‘
Except me
.’

The whisper caught her off-guard and she swore again. ‘Go away,’ she hissed. ‘This is probably all your fault. Well, I’m not Sibell and Jake isn’t you. So leave us alone.’ The stupid ghost was affecting her thinking and she had to stop him. But how?

Melissa loved her job and when she set out for Maidstone yet again the following day it was with a familiar feeling of excitement. Every genealogical quest was a puzzle to be solved and the exhilaration she experienced whenever she was successful was headier than any wine. It never failed to thrill her. This time it was more personal, which added spice to the search.

The road to becoming a genealogist had been long and hard for her, but it had been her goal ever since she’d understood the meaning of the word. History was her favourite subject at school. While her friends read magazines and romantic novels, she had her nose stuck in what they called ‘stuffy’ books about the past. It wasn’t until she discovered historical romances that she showed any interest in light reading at all.

She was in her second year of studying history at university when she met Steve and Jolie was conceived. Despite her growing bulge, Melissa finished the summer term that year, and as soon as she had recovered from the birth she resumed her studies by correspondence via the Open University. With a small baby to look after, distance learning was her only chance to continue. Her perseverance paid off and she completed her degree despite Steve’s grumblings.

‘You’re wasting your time. Why are you studying history anyway? If you want to do something useful, then take a secretarial course or something so you can earn some money and help with the rent.’ Melissa ignored him most of the time, although she did attend an evening course in typing and computer studies. Steve was pleased, thinking she’d finally seen sense. He never realised that both these subjects were invaluable to a genealogist.

He’d finished his IT studies and landed a fairly good job with a reputable firm in the City. However, his salary, although adequate for their needs, wasn’t large enough to cover a nanny’s wages. And as there was no one else who could take care of Jolie, Melissa stayed at home. Steve later decided to work freelance as a consultant and there was even less money. To pass the time she took another Open University course in genealogy, followed by several more in specialised subjects such as Latin and medieval manuscripts. When Jolie started school, Melissa began to do the odd job from time to time and built up some contacts in the business. It was a slow process, but ultimately rewarding.

Her growing workload proved to be a lifeline through the difficult time of her divorce. Losing herself in old records and family trees kept her sane and she knew that without genealogy she would have been lost.

‘Back again so soon?’ Jenny greeted her cheerfully as soon as she walked through the door of the search room.

‘Yep, I’m nowhere near finished. And now I have another client from the same area, so I’m afraid you’ll be seeing quite a lot of me.’

‘Tell me what you’re after and I’ll help you make a start. It’s awfully quiet in here today and I much prefer a quest to dull old cataloguing work.’

Melissa spent hours at the Kent History Centre and, with Jenny’s assistance, found a wealth of information, both about Ashleigh Manor and about Jake’s family tree. To her surprise she had hardly any trouble at all in tracing his line back to the beginning of the baptismal records of the local church at the end of the sixteenth century.

‘God, what a boring lot,’ she commented. ‘These Precy’s don’t seem to have moved around much at all. No spirit of adventure whatsoever.’

‘Guess they loved it here then,’ Jenny said with a smile. ‘Like your vet.’

‘He’s not
my
vet in the least.’ Melissa frowned at her friend. ‘But you’re right, Jake really did return to his roots when he relocated from London. His ancestors have lived in the area for generations.’

Some had owned or rented properties, which made the task of tracing them much easier. Melissa always found leases and other property transactions very informative, as they often mentioned several members of a family and were witnessed by others.

‘Looks like they couldn’t make up their mind how to spell their name though,’ Melissa commented. The spelling of the name Precy varied a lot through the ages. There was
Pressy
,
Preecy
and
Presay
and quite a few others besides, which made Melissa smile. Some of the curates keeping the records had recorded the name phonetically and some had probably misheard their informant. Others were simply incapable of spelling correctly. She noticed one poor chap in particular who even spelled the word “burials” with two r’s and two
 
l’s.