Chapter 4
(Thoughts of Someone within the house)
He watched the woman leave the library. She was a complication. But he was used to those. Tommy had never made anything easy for him, had taken so much from him already. The woman's resemblance to the departed Alana was uncanny. His memory drifted to the real Alana and their last night together. How sweet the taste of her final breath to his mouth! He tugged the cuff of his shirt over the faint scar of scratches on his wrists. The bitch. She deserved what she got. They all did.
Perhaps he could use this resemblance to his advantage. Use her to put the final screw in his revenge when he exposed her treachery. Then he'd set his trap and watch Tommy's world fall apart. Watch Tommy lose all claims to the trust fund, to his research, to his future. Watch Tommy as he realized he was doomed to die the same horrid death his father had died–painful, destructive.
Yes, he could make this work to his advantage. He would watch and manipulate. He would stir the pot of suspicion. The lies would be exposed. Then he'd have his revenge...and more.
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Jude followed Valentin up and down the meandering, dimly lit corridors to a set of stairs carved straight out of the gray stone. The cool, damp air chilled her to the bone. She tried to shake the uneasiness licking at her heels, then shifted her concentration to memorizing the path they followed, but one colorless stone wall pretty much looked like the next, and she lost count of the multitude of shadowed arched doors with black iron locks they passed.
"The place doesn't look this big from the outside." Jude said, trying to dispel the gloomy silence between them.
"Non, madame."
"Do you ever get lost?" Jude asked with a forced chuckle. The eerie clipping of her footsteps behind the butler's silent ones on the stone stairs reminded her irrationally of a prisoner being led to his execution.
"Non, madame."
Valentin, it seemed, was not a man of many words. Between Tommy's glowering silences and Valentin's sparse conversation, this could prove to be a very long two weeks.
"It must be hard to keep up with the housework."
"Most of the house is closed, and in the summer we hire staff to keep up appearances for the weekend guided tours. Curiosity about the monks' legend brings them in."
"I'm not familiar with the legend."
"The curse of the Holy Cross Brotherhood."
"Ah." Jude couldn't think of anything else to say as she followed Valentin's ramrod-stiff penguin gait.
When they turned into an upstairs hallway, the walls' wraith like shadows reached out for her again. Their cold, clammy fingers snatched at her hair, prickling the base of her neck with the feeling of coming doom. She quickly reached back to brush the uncomfortable feeling away, half expecting her fingers to twine into the sticky ectoplasm of a ghost. Instead, they met only empty space.
Beware.
The whisper echoed eerily inside her head, erupting a series of shivers down her spine.
"Does anyone besides you and Tommy live here?" She asked, sure a logical conclusion could be found for her auditory hallucination.
"No one, madame." He paused for an instant. "Except perhaps the ghosts."
"Ghosts?" Jude had a feeling Valentin wanted to scare her deliberately. Why? Whatever the reason, his tactic was definitely working. Jude couldn't remember the last time she'd been this spooked about anything, and wondered again at the wisdom of her decision to stay. I'm safe, she repeated to herself like a mantra. The joy she'd bring to her grandmother with the Aidan Heart was worth a few nights in a scary house. It couldn't be worse than the sleepless nights she'd spent after listening to some of her brother's ghost stories.
"The monks, madame. They lived and died here for a century before disappearing."
"What happened to them?"
"Their secret was discovered."
"Their secret?" She almost wished Valentin had stuck to one-word answers. The old geezer was giving her a bad case of the creeps.
He shook his head. "Too unspeakable to mention." He stopped by a door and clinked keys from a large brass ring until her found the right one. Probably enjoying the macabre echo they created as the noise bounced off the stone walls. Jude thought. "Their legacy lives on."
His answer left her imagination to run rampant with dastardly possibilities. Fourteen more days of this. She'd scare herself to death before she could take the Aidan Heart home.
Valentin unlocked the door and handed her the key before she stepped inside the room and flicked on the lights. "This was Madame Alana's room."
The house's stony coldness extended to this room. Jude felt out of place in the large room's opulence. Not that she didn't appreciate the fineries of life, but this room, despite its picture perfect decor, lacked something. Her own house in Nashua might be small, but each room radiated a feeling of warmth, a feeling of life. She found this room's rigid formality depressing.
Yards of sheer material draped the large bed's canopy. A rich coverlet of emerald and gold, decorated with a dozen pillows in all shapes and sizes, lay over the mattress. Valentin snapped open the heavy emerald brocade curtains trimmed with gold, covering the single window. The darkening gray sky didn't allow in much light. If anything, it heightened the caged feeling, increasing Jude's uneasiness.
A huge English walnut wardrobe crowded the back wall. Valentin opened the double doors. "I doubt many of these clothes fit you, but..."
Jude stuck her tongue out at the butler's back. Not that she'd want to fit in them, anyway. From what she could see. Alana's taste in clothes might be expensive, but it lacked subtlety. "I'll get some of my own stuff tomorrow."
"As you wish, madame."
Jude walked to the small vanity and trailed a finger along the dust on the old wood. This house with all its empty rooms and cavern-like corridors would dampen her natural optimism if she let it. Was that why Alana had left? Had the incredible sadness of the house finally overcome her?
"What was she like–Alana?" Jude asked as she picked up a silver brush scrolled with a fancy T from the tray on the vanity.
"It is not my place to answer your questions." Valentin bustled about at amazing speed for someone so frail-looking. He heaped the decorative pillows onto the carved trunk at the end of the bed, turned down the coverlet, then opened the heavy wood door next to the vanity. "The bathroom is through here. There are fresh towels behind the door."
"You don't approve do you? Jude asked as she replaced the brush in its exact position, then turned to face the stern butler.
"It is not my place to pass judgment."
"I'm not trying to replace her."
"As I said, madame, it is not my place to say. But..."
"But what?"
Valentin's balding pate, beaked nose and loose jowl skin reminded her of an aging eagle. He searched her face with a narrowed gaze, then as if changing his mind, he shrugged. "Madame Alana's disappearance has saddened us all."
"I'm sure it has..." Jude felt sure he'd wanted to say something else.
He bowed and backed out the door. "If you need anything, madame, the intercom is by the door. Ring the service button and someone will answer."
He made it sound as if the house teemed with servants. "Thank you, Valentin."
"Soyez Prudente," Valentin mumbled as he left.
What had he said? Before Jude could ask for an explanation, Valentin shut the door with a resounding boom that echoed down the empty corridor like a small explosion. She looked at the ancient key in her hand. At least he hadn't locked her in. She could leave at any time. With a sigh she went to the window. Maybe she should leave.
The snow fell in fat weighted flakes that stuck to the glass with the wind's force. Shapeless white blanketed the cobbled courtyard. The last of the auction goers were leaving, their headlights cutting bright arcs across the darkening sky. Only her own Volvo remained–a white mound in the flat yard.
She sat on the window's stone ledge, leaned her head against the frigid glass and blew against her pane, clouding it with her warm breath. With a finger she squiggled a random doodle.
As Jude's mind drifted to her childhood, a circle of pines replaced the monastery's shadowy landscape. The roses of her grandmother's garden bloomed all around her. Gram's finest china and linen graced the flaking wooden picnic table. Jude saw herself carrying a plate heaped with cakes and tarts as Gram poured the tea into cups. She remembered well the taste of the tangy lemon curd sauce she heaped onto scones. But most of all she remembered the way her grandmother's face lit up when she spoke of Aidan and Diane's love. Jude had felt so secure, so safe in that circle of pines, surrounded by the scent of roses and her grandmother's friendship. Was it so wrong to want the feeling back? Was it so wrong to want to see that bright light in Gram's eyes once more?
She studied Alana's room again. Secure was the last thing she felt right now. She was cold and alone, and if truth be told, a little scared. What did she know about Tom Quincy? What if he had killed his wife? If the house wasn't creepy enough, her unseemly reaction to its master would be enough to shake her confidence. But he needed her alive, didn't he? Until this mysterious Christmas fete she would be safe–then she'd be gone with the Aidan Heart.
Jude sighed wearily. She didn't have long to wash up before Tommy expected her to put in her first performance. She couldn't let herself fall prey to the house's dreary mood.
She crossed the room and went into the bathroom. Again the opulence caught her by surprise. Who would have thought the plumbing could be so modern? A sunken tub, big enough for two, took up most of the room. Had Tommy and Alana shared loving baths here? She giggled at her image of Tommy surrounded by frothy scented bubbles–not too likely!
Alana's toiletries still stood on a mirrored tray. How odd. Jude picked up a half-used blood-red lipstick and replaced it before trailing a finger through the assortment of bottles and jars on the tray. Wouldn't a woman bent on running away have taken at least some of her toiletries with her? Wouldn't she have taken some clothes, too? How fast had she fled, and why?
A shudder shook her. Her gaze shifted to the wooden tray at the opposite end of the counter. She picked up the cologne bottle made by a local perfumery. Inhaling the scent, she realized it held the same woodsy tone that Tommy wore, which had so muddled her senses earlier. Had Alana picked it out for him, or was it his choice? For an insane half moment, she hoped it was the latter.
Curiosity led her to the wooden door opposite the one leading to her room. Tommy's room? Her hand hesitated for a second on the knob, but when she found it turned, she pushed it and went in.
She smiled. Now this room looked lived in. Unlike Alana's pristine room, this place was a delightful mess. Magazines, papers, maps lay in disarray over every piece of man-size furniture. Clothes had been dropped in a heap on an easy chair and forgotten. Even the bed was mussed. Either Valentin's housekeeping skills weren't to par, or Tommy didn't like his privacy intruded upon.
Jude expected the red, green and blue plaid comforter had been chosen more for comfort than eye appeal. She sat down on the edge of the bed in the darkened room, feeling its coziness while she ran a hand over the blue flannel sheets. She'd much rather sleep in this room than share the other with Alana's ghost.
How long had it been since Alana and Tommy had shared a room? A bed? What would it be like to sleep with Tommy here? Would she feel secure or defenseless? Would he show her his blustery side, or would the sensuality promised by his full lips come through?
She blushed at the thought. She didn't want to know. Not really. Because to know, she'd have to expose too much of herself, and she couldn't afford to do that.
So lost was she in her daydream that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her. When a hand buried itself erotically in her hair, she screamed and jumped off the bed. With her heart beating a hundred miles an hour, she whirled to face her attacker, hands forward in a defensive position. She found herself looking straight into Tommy's remote face and desire-darkened eyes.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous to come into a man's room uninvited?"