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Chapter Four

Sarah

“Don’t forget to wrap up warm,” Francis reminded her, his tone warm and fatherly. “The mansion hasn’t been heated for quite some time, so layers are a must,” he advised her.

“My old Regatta is a godsend in the winter,” Sarah told him, appreciating his concern. “I can wear a thin shirt underneath and still feel comfortably warm.” She reached for her navy coat, pulling it from the hook along the wall and stuffed her arms inside the sleeves. The zip needed a firm tug to get it moving, then it slid with ease all the way up to her neck, swaddling her with warmth.

She wondered whether Francis had children her age or older, and felt a sudden twist of sadness as she remembered her own father. There was something about Francis Heartly that reminded her of him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She took out her black knitted gloves from her coat pockets and slipped them on over her long pale fingers. The bitter, icy wind clawed at her skin as she stepped through the front door, burning her throat as she sucked in a lungful of air. “Hmm, remind me to label these keys,” she muttered.

The large bunch of keys jingled as metal clashed against metal. Sarah also made a mental note to replace the bulb in the security light, not wanting to have to search through her keys in the dark.

Satisfied that her house was secure, she dropped her keys inside her pocket. Then, she hurried carefully along the damp garden path, stepping over puddles and snails as she went. The rain had come down hard during the night, filling the air with an earthy damp scent. The waterlogged lawn was now a playground for frogs that frolicked happily, camouflaged by the overgrown grass. Ducks had even taken up residence on a small pond that had formed at the bottom of the garden.

Francis bowed his elbow out for her to curl her fingers around. “Take hold to steady yourself, the ground is slippery here,” he warned, sidestepping around the green algae-covered path.

Francis opened the passenger side door to his silver Audi A6 that was parked at the front of the gatehouse. “Ladies first.” His glacial blue eyes crinkled as he smiled, politely.

“Thank you.” Sarah blushed, feeling embarrassed by her appearance.

The heat from her cheeks burned hotter in the cold mid-day air. She knew that she looked like shit this morning and was humiliated having been seen in such a state. She could hardly call herself a lady, and felt as if her grandmother's lawyer was accustomed to flattery. Francis was being really sweet, and in all fairness, he had dropped everything to rush out here and check in on her. He didn’t have to. Although, Sarah was glad that he was here. She didn’t want to be left alone after her mystery illness, and was already thinking of an excuse to invite him to stay over for dinner.

“It would be wise to make some notes,” Francis advised. They drove along the dirt track that led up to the manor.

“Yes, good idea,” Sarah agreed, rattling the keys in her pocket. “I’m rather nervous to see inside. I always thought of it as rather creepy, and that was during the day. Goodness knows what it must be like at night. I’m glad you’re coming with me. It’ll make the second visit less daunting.” There was a quiver in her voice, caused by a mixture of excitement and nerves.

She was keen to learn more about this Lord Tenebris, and why he insisted on keeping this manor as an ornament. Her gaze lingered on the passing scenery through the window as their conversation fell into silence. Sarah clasped her trembling hands in her lap, feeling the tremors tense her shoulders.

Francis seemed to sense what was wrong and sought to reassure her. “There’s really nothing to be frightened of. Lord Tenebris and I wouldn’t place you in a dangerous situation. The manor isn’t dilapidated or anything, it's perfectly intact. You’ll see for yourself. It’s just in desperate need of restoration; purely for cosmetic purposes, you understand.”

Sarah turned to him with an off-handed question, “Is it haunted?” She asked, taking him by surprise.

Francis chuckled. “Don't tell me you believe in all that superstitious nonsense?” He threw another question right back at her.

“Perhaps,” she replied, her eyes wandering back to the passing scenery. “I'd like to think there is an afterlife. Something else to look forward to...” her voice trailed off.

She didn’t see how his pleasant expression faltered with sadness, nor did her human ears pick up his barely audible response over the throaty rumble of the engine. “Not for creatures like me, there isn't.”

As they neared the estate, Francis applied the brakes, slowing the car to a crawl. He frowned, eyeing the open wrought iron gates with scrutiny.

“I thought as much,” he spoke in an aggravated growl.

“Is there a problem?” Sarah asked, slightly concerned by his grave reaction.

“I’m hoping there isn’t,” he answered, scanning the area with vigilant eyes.

Sarah observed the wide divot tracks that scored through the gravel drive. “Is there someone here? Lord Tenebris perhaps?” Sarah suggested, sounding a little too hopeful. Maybe he had come back to England, after all.

“No, he would’ve mentioned it to me first.” Francis seemed certain about that. “I think we've had an attempted break-in form a nuisance relative of his.” His glare hardened as he stared towards the manor.

Sarah felt a cold shiver run its icy finger along her spine. She didn't like the sound of that. A break in seemed so malicious. If they wanted to access the manor, then why not ask Lord Draven himself? The only thing that Sarah could think of, was that Draven didn't want them snooping around. Maybe they had come to steal something. All she could do at this moment was guess.

“A relative?” Her voice held a questioning and accusatory tone. “He has relatives that could inherit this house legitimately, so why am I here?” She raised a valid question.

Unless there had been a family squabble and those said relatives were no longer welcome.

Francis huffed through his nose. “This is a nuisance relative.” He then cut off the engine, removing the key from the ignition. “One who has no business to be here.” His icy-blue eyes blazed, matching the abrasive tone of his voice. “That’ll soon change,” he snapped. “As soon as you take full ownership of the estate.”

Sarah turned to him, feeling rather baffled. “I thought I already had?” She couldn't see what difference it would make if she owned the place or not. If someone was going to try to break in, then they would just keep trying. Sarah wondered how long it would take for the police to arrive if she had to call them. Maybe she would have to buy a guard dog.

He shook his head, scrunching then relaxing his lips. “You signed the paperwork yesterday. It needed to go through court to be stamped by a judge.” His eyes glanced at his wrist, checking his watch. “Which may have happened by now. By the looks of things, he’s long since scarpered.” He exited the car first, leaving Sarah to fumble around at her seatbelt clasp.

She scrambled out of the car, closing the door behind her. “He?” Sarah faced Francis, her eyes twitching questioningly. She liked how he was giving her subtle clues, here and there, even though he seemed completely unaware he was doing it.

“Oh, you won’t have to concern yourself with him anymore. I doubt you’ll be graced with a second visit. Especially after I inform Lord Tenebris of this intrusion,” Francis assured as their shoes crunched over the loose gravel.

Sarah swallowed as she nodded. She didn’t want to find herself at the centre of a dispute over inheritance. She felt grateful that Francis and this mysterious Lord Tenebris would handle matters themselves. She hated conflict of any sort and didn’t much care for a visit from a disgruntled aristocrat.

“Thank you, Francis, I appreciate that,” she told him honestly.

“Let us not stand outside in the cold,” he muttered, sparing a backward glance over his shoulder.

His eyes scanned our surroundings as if searching for something. His tense posture relaxed as if satisfied. Sarah couldn’t fathom his unusual behaviour. He’d been acting rather strange, ever since he arrived this morning.

Who am I to judge; I haven't exactly been myself lately.

Sarah followed his lead up to the front of the property. It wasn’t how she remembered it to be at all. Over the years, her mind had twisted her memories, morphing them into the worst case scenario. As she drank in the magnificent structure, she could appreciate it with adult eyes. There it stood in all its early seventeenth-century grandeur. Tall floor to ceiling windows, counting eight either side of the large wooden doors.

The front of the manor bowed out and stone pillars gave it support. Creeping Ivy camouflaged the grey brick, spanning out wild and unruly over the distorted window pains. The four corners of the building rose up into turrets and the spiked iron railings ran the full length of the rooftop. The ostentatious design was surely meant to intimidate, and it really did. She felt herself shrink in its presence.

Sarah shuddered as they approached. Not daring to search amongst the windows, through fear of meeting with a ghostly face gazing out at her. She thought she saw someone once. During one summer, her parents brought her to visit as a child. A gaunt figure stood at the window, scaring her half to death. Her father scolded her for coming up here alone, telling her this estate was off limits and that she was lucky not to have gotten lost in the forest.

“Your key, Sarah,” Francis reminded her. She reached inside her pocket, producing the bunch of keys.

She searched through, finding the one she was looking for. “Ah, here it is.” She slid the key in the lock and gave it a turn.

The large heavy door creaked as she pushed it open, greeted by the musty smell of what reminded her of old books and newspapers. Oddly enough, the scent comforted her. It felt like home, reminding her of the times she spent researching things in the library archives.

Francis waited until Sarah had stepped through the threshold, hesitating at the door.

Sarah eyed him with confusion. “Francis, aren’t you coming in?” She asked, worried he intended to leave her.

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