Chapter 22
Archer
When he was a child and a teenager, the west wing of Turner Hall was off-limits. As each elder passed away, the next in line would take up the branch of rooms. If and when he inherited Copper Island, he didn’t know if he wanted to keep the tradition.
It was the same for the whole family when his grandfather was alive. The ground floor and lower sections of the building were find to wander, but no one was allowed in the private space.
The rule became iron clad when his grandfather died, outliving his father and making his aunt beneficiary. Archer’s dad intended to reverse all the old-fashioned rules surrounding Turner Hall.
There were many arguments between his dad and his sister, Aunt Cynthia. She wanted Turner Hall to be completely private and closed off. In contrast, Archer’s dad wanted to open the doors and let everyone in.
He believed the house should be lived in and occupied .
Wandering along the corridor on the first floor, Archer absorbed in the décor, all immaculately kept in the era of the 1930s. There were a few modern additions, fire alarms, water spouts from the ceiling, and other safety measures. If the place did catch fire, it would be dowsed with water quickly. His aunt didn’t want to share, but she ensured what she did have was taken care of. Sometimes, Archer thought his aunt cared more about what future generations thought of her than the current family members.
“There you are. Have you settled into your rooms?”
Archer turned towards the voice, knowing it was his aunt.
“Mostly. I think I’ve thrown away more stuff than I’ve kept.”
“Nothing valuable, I hope?”
“Not at all, just memories of happier times,” he said, berating himself for the bitterness in his voice.
There wasn’t a day when he didn’t miss his dad, and that morning, he’d spent hours sifting through photos of him, his parents, and his siblings. They were all taken on Copper Island. As a child, his parents saw no point in leaving the island as there was everything they needed. Part of that experience, Archer thought, drove his need to explore the world. The other part of exploring the world and not returning to the island during their time off, was the painful reminders of their mother abandoning them and his father never filling the study with his deep laughter again.
“We can’t change the past, Archer,” she replied.
Archer saw a brief wave of sadness in her eyes before the shutter came down and indifference settled back on her features. She raised her chin and pulled her colourful shawl tighter around her shoulders. The purple and deep red patterns swirled, making a drab-sounding woman look radiant.
“We can’t. Hopefully, I can influence the future of Turner Hall.”
“Have you found a wife yet?”
“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Cynthia,” he replied.
“Well, don’t forget to bring her to dinner. I want to meet her before you put an engagement ring on her finger. Do you have a ring?”
“I thought I’d let my future wife choose her engagement ring.”
“Don’t be absurd. She’ll wear a Turner ring. Come to my room in two hours. I’ll have a selection ready for you. I will hear no argument, Archer.”
“Yes, Aunt Cynthia.”
Archer wasn’t going to argue. He’d seen his mother’s ring. A gorgeous ruby set with diamonds. His grandmother’s ring was similar with an emerald. His aunt’s rings were stunning. The ring she wore while she glared at him in warning was a sapphire, square cut, loose on her slim finger. He’d remembered she’d always worn it. However, these days it didn’t sit as it should. He tilted his head in question, seeing if she seemed slimmer than he’d remembered. Her watch was loose too.
Dismissing the idea she was ill, he put it down to growing older.
Having a ring from the family jewels would take a task out of going into the town. Erica had been emphatic about staying away from people, and this was the solution.
“Two hours, don’t forget or keep me waiting.”
“Always be on time,” they both said simultaneously.
“I am always on time,” he replied with a grin .
His aunt harrumphed and turned away, then walked down the stairs. Even now, she shifted quickly at her age, with grace out of his sight. Archer took the back route out of Turner Hall and headed to Edward Hall. He unlocked the main door and walked through the empty foyer like he’d done a dozen times that week. He had helped Erica with her swimming practice in the mornings, and in the afternoons, he had scoured the smaller mansion.
He couldn’t shake the coldness of the place. Everything looked clean, grand, perfect for an upmarket wedding, but it felt like a ghost house where that last wedding was decades before, long before he left the island.
Archer had witnessed plenty of weddings taking place in the grand foyer, but the place now felt lost and forgotten. He made a mental note to ask his aunt when the last marriage had occurred and when the next one was booked when he chose Erica’s ring.
Taking the wide staircase two stairs at a time, he strode down the red carpet with gold metal trim at the skirting. In the corridor to the left and right were the hotel guest rooms.
Whether he got the hotel, wedding business, or cottages, Archer didn’t want to sleep under either of the Hall’s roofs.
If he didn’t pull off the deal, Archer had already decided he wouldn’t stay on the island, preferring to work overseas and away from the ghosts of the past. Archer had no idea what job he would take on the island if he stayed. Pride wouldn’t let him stay at Turner Hall at his aunt’s grace. He picked up the box of items, and with a stiff nod and a long glance at the floor-to-ceiling stain glass window overlooking the grounds where he’d studied for all his exams, he left the room, closing the door quietly.