Read Online Lord Melvedere's Ghost by Rebecca King - Free Book Online Page A

coachman’s
cloak, his face obscured almost completely by the high collar and
hat tugged low.
    Deciding
to leave him asleep, Jamie yawned widely and eased the carriage the
last few miles toward home. He wasn’t going to wake up Warren, his
butler, or Mrs Nantwich the Housekeeper. He was perfectly capable
of securing the exhausted horses himself and could stow the
carriage in the barn for now. Potter, his groomsman and groundsman
could clean it down and store it in the coach barn in the
morning.
    Impatience was riding high by the time he saw the familiar
stone pillars of Melvedere come into view. The high brick wall ran
alongside the road, clearly marking the border of the property in a
way that was visible whether it was day or night. The iron gates
stood open in welcome, beckoning guests down the long pale ribbon
of driveway that filled Jamie with an almost childlike
eagerness.
    Melvedere stood on the far side of the trees, nestled along
the banks of the River Solace. Its huge stone facade was broken by
row upon row of square windows, four floors of them in all, some of
which gleamed white from the closed shutters within. They lay like
eyelids, closed against the cold night. At the bottom of the house,
a few stone steps led one to the front door with its highly
polished knocker and knob, both of which were missing because the
master of the house wasn’t at home.
    Instead
of pulling up to the front of the house like he really wanted to,
Jamie drew around the side toward the assorted buildings at the far
side of the property. Although they would have a short walk to the
house, it meant that the servants wouldn’t be disturbed by their
arrival. He wondered when he had ever changed enough to start to
consider his servants’ sleep requirements, but his own conscience
wouldn’t allow him to be so callous as to wake them in the middle
of the night, especially when he, Jonathan, and even Cecily, were
perfectly capable of seeing to themselves.
    By the
time they arrived at the kitchen door, Cecily was shivering in the
cool night air. She had just had probably the worst nights’ sleep
of her entire life and was so cold her teeth were inelegantly
beginning to chatter. She glanced at Jonathan who looked bright
eyed and alert, and Jamie, who although looked tired, didn’t appear
to have been bothered by either the uncomfortable carriage ride or
the lack of sleep.
    She
looked at Jamie warily when he stood back to allow her to precede
him into the gloom of what appeared to be the kitchens.
    “ The ghosts won’t come and get you, honest,” Jamie muttered,
rolling his eyes at Cecily’s newfound timidity.
    Cecily
jumped and swallowed. “Ghosts?”
    “ There is reportedly one, or maybe two. But they are mere
superstition. There is no truth to the stories. I will tell you
about them one day but, for now,” he nodded toward the kitchen and
waved her in, “do you want to go in before we all catch our
deaths?”
    Cecily
stumbled forward, glancing around her at the huge, cavernous room
cautiously. Pots hung practically everywhere. The huge table
sitting in the middle of the room seemed to go on for miles, but
was clearly scrubbed and lay empty. Several huge dressers lined the
walls carrying a vast assortment of pots and foods. The smell that
hung in the air was simply divine. Pie, gravy, vegetables, all
combined into a jumble of tantalisation that made her feel somewhat
light headed.
    The door
clicked quietly behind Jamie, who slid the bolt home with a sigh of
relief. He couldn’t believe that their journey had gone so
smoothly. Beside the one altercation in the field, there had been
no sign of any French for miles and that unnerved him. As he began
to question why, he determinedly closed the thought out and put it
to one side to consider and discuss with Jonathan,
later.
    “ Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms,” he muttered instead,
moving to the side door that led to the main body of the
house.
    It
didn’t occur to Cecily to