Chapter 2
The nearby village was small and adorably quaint, with a neat little pub, schoolhouse, and downtown, and Lucian and I stopped to pick up a pumpkin to carve from a wizened old farmer.
“Why is it called Ashgrove?” I asked as my excitement started to grow.
“Oh, this house has many long-standing old legends and ghost stories,” Lucian said as he hopped out to open up the high wrought iron gates.
“Are these gates usually closed?” I added curiously.
“No. . .usually they’re left open. Occasionally it’s safer to close them, though.”
He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t want to pry further with the big pumpkin settled with such domestic bliss on my lap. I would let Lucian tell me his family lore on his own time.
“Allegedly, back many generations ago, my ancestors burned witches out in one of the groves beyond the home. Not anymore, of course. Now the only people who live there are the servants, who keep it clean for when me, my son, or my brother come to visit. And we’re all in town this weekend.
It’ll be quite the little family reunion for you. ”
Lucian’s sporty little car wound through the narrow path of the driveway, the trees plump with fall colors and twisted branches pressing in on all sides of us.
“This is really quite spooky!” I said delightedly.
And then we had broken free of the trees at last and were in sight of the house.
It was massive, a sprawling gray-stone manor with narrow dark windows and high turrets and peaks, with barren woods stretching behind it.
I could barely take in everything at once. On the right side as we drew closer was a large pond, stretching out over the lawn.
The water looked heavy, fallen leaves gathering on the jagged stones that peeked through the pond’s stagnant surface.
A wooden bridge stretched over the water, but it looked unstable, with large chunks missing.
That would make such an picturesque spot for a fall engagement shoot, I couldn’t help thinking.
But there was just as much to see on the other side as we pulled up to park.
“Is that a crypt?” I cried.
Lucian nodded. “All the Devereaux have been buried there or in the surrounding graveyard for generations.”
“So much history,” I breathed, squeezing his arm appreciatively.
I tried not to get ahead of myself, but I could see myself as the mistress of this place. If Lucian and I went on as we were.
We could live at his cottage on campus and come to Ashgrove Manor on the weekend.
Indoors, the historical significance of the manor struck me immediately.
It was remarkably maintained as it had been for generations, with old-fashioned lamps along the hallways that cast small pools of light.
Surely that would mean the whole manor was very dark and hard to navigate at night?
But perhaps there were sound architectural reasons for not modernizing it more. Really, the whole effect was charming.
I was thrilled to be introduced to the staff as well.
Not to mention, Lucian had a real-life butler, a man in his late 50s named Branby.
Branby was a powerful man with ham-like hands and a grim, set expression on his face.
“He looks like a security guard,” I teased Lucian as we began to unpack our things in his large, airy room. Even though the walls were stone, a cheerful fire was crackling in the grate.
“He has been a part of the family for as long as I can remember,” Lucian laughed, bending to kiss my throat.
This is a lovely view, I thought as I laid my laptop and textbooks on the desk by the window. I could look out over the grounds as I did my work.
“Oh, honey, remember, we don’t have Wifi here,” Lucian said.
“No Wifi?” I asked in some consternation.
I had been hoping to get some work done.
“Cell service is very spotty too,” he said, pointing down to my phone that only had one bar.
Well, shit. Maybe it was for the best, though. A few weekends of technological detox would do me a world of good, so I set my phone down on the desk, too.
Lucian gave me a quick tour of Ashgrove, passing by the many guest rooms the staff was airing out.
“Gabriel always brings so many college friends. And women. He always has to have a whole rotation because he gets bored so easily. You know how young people are.”
Did I?
But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like I’d be seeing them much, the young people and I would be staying out of each other’s way.
Lucian also showed me the many pieces of priceless artwork on the walls, as well as a big library on the top floor with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and velvet-covered chairs to sit in.
“Come here anytime to work,” he said. “I want you to feel comfortable.”
Hand-in-hand, we went outside to carve the pumpkins, and spent the rest of the afternoon pleasantly together, creating a beautiful copy of Van Gogh’s Starry Night painting.
As twilight streaked across the sky, Lucian carved our initials into the back of the pumpkin and put a heart around them.
“Brother, I thought I was the artistic one,” a warm voice said, and Lucian turned to introduce me to his brother Hemsworth.
Like Lucian, he was tall and handsome, but he had golden blonde hair and glasses. He was a well-known playwright and artist and in between productions, and I restrained myself with an effort from fan-girling over his latest play.
“Let’s go in to dinner,” Lucian said. “Gabriel will be late.”
A brisk wind pulled at me, and I suddenly shivered with chill.
The grounds of Ashgrove Manor did look creepier at night, as fog descended, rolling over the pond in a way that made the sharp rocks jut out in a strange and unsettling manner.
“What is it, Branby?” Hemsworth asked sharply as we entered the formal dining room. “What are all you servants whispering about over there? Come fill up my wine glass.”
His brother seemed to have a touchy artistic temperament, and I was just glad Lucian was so stable and gentle.
“My apologies, sir,” Branby said. “It’s just that they found another body.”
“Barbaric,” Hemsworth said, twisting up his aristocratic lips in disgust.
“Another?” Lucian asked. “How many is this now?”
“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat down at the table. “What do you mean they found another body?”
There was silence for a moment, and the staff disappeared back into the kitchens to bring out the first course.
“It’s not unusual,” Lucian said. “Foolish young people come into the country every weekend. Get drunk. Do foolish things like fall into pits or get lost in the woods.”
“How sad,” I said, taking a sip of my wine. “Perhaps they can cover up the pits or put markings on the trees, so people don’t get lost out there.”
Of course the wine was exquisite here, with a smoky grape and rich earthy flavor.
“There have been a few. . . unusual deaths recently,” Hemsworth said. “Some people think the deaths are connected. I do not. I think that’s just the rural tendency to superstition.”
“Animals,” Lucian said. “Perhaps it’s wild animals.”
But the brothers glanced at each other, and I could tell they didn’t want to frighten me.
Unnecessary, I thought irritably. As if I’m some delicate woman who can’t handle it.
I almost jumped as I caught a reflection of myself in one of the mirrors. My long deep brown curls were twisted up in a bun, a few stray hairs escaping around my face, and my cheeks looked flushed with excitement, green eyes wide.
“Tell me a little more about it,” I said, to make sure they didn’t think I was some squeamish baby. “After all, abnormal psychology and psychopathy are my specialties.”
“Let’s talk about lovely things at dinner,” Hemsworth countered smilingly, and instead we discussed the wine, books we had read, and the local harvests.
It wasn’t until the dessert had been served that I heard a strange noise in the distance.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, that’ll probably be Gabriel and his friends.”
I glanced out the window to see the lights of six or seven low-slung sports cars racing on the rural road toward the manor.
One car cut in front of the others, and I gasped in shock.
“That’s not safe,” I cried. “Someone could get hurt like this.”
“Leave it,” Lucian said sharply.
I looked over at him in surprise.
He had never spoken to me like that.
“He’s a good driver,” Hemsworth put in.
“Is that your son in the lead? The way he’s driving he might crash into the gate!”
“He won’t. Leave it.”
I hesitated, sinking back down in my chair again, my heart pounding as I watched.
The cars were racing to be the first one in the narrow driveway, and I held my breath.
There was one car that was more reckless than all the others, getting way too close, then putting on a crazy burst of speed to inch into the lead, and I knew.
That was him.
My knuckles whitened as the car took the curves way too fast, the bright lights almost blinding me through the window.
“That’s not safe behavior,” I said. “He could get hurt.”
There was something sharp in Lucian’s eyes as he looked at me over his glass.
“Don’t. The HNL reiterated today that they’re not interested in taking Gabriel on unless he’s under the care of a qualified psychiatrist. Let him cool off. Let him do what he wants. Things can be replaced.”
Wait, what the fuck did that mean?
The lead car, a sleek silvery vehicle that flashed out in the dark like a ghost, spun around in the driveway with a loud splatter of gravel peppering my car like gunshot.
My heart was in my throat when he finally came to a stop.
There was a faint whiff of smoke from the engine as the door was kicked open.
A massive black boot thudded onto the ground and a man got out of the car.
He was very tall, the bulk of his broad shoulders blocking out the patchy light from the solitary lamp outside, but from his sheer size and the dark shock of black hair that fell into his eyes I had no difficulty in identifying him.
This must be Gabriel.
For a sudden, panicked moment I had the urge to run from the room as two coal-black eyes seemed to gleam at me in the darkness.
Ridiculous. He couldn’t even see me through the glass.