An Earl In Time Read online

  She drove down the long driveway. She made her way past the tall shrubs. But when she got to the bridge, the car stopped running. Maybe the thing wasn’t in as good condition as she thought. She tried to turn the engine. Nothing. Not even a click.

  She leaned back in the seat and sighed. Well, this hadn’t gone as planned. But she was better off with the car dying here on the property than she was with it dying in town.

  Since she didn’t relish the idea of walking all the way back to the mansion, she tried to start the car a second time. Again, nothing. After a moment, she tried it a third time with the same result.

  She glanced back at the tall shrubs that hid the house. That would really be a long way to walk. She should give the car at least one more try. She put the stick into the rear gear slot and tried to start the car. This time it started.

  “That’s weird.”

  She hadn’t actually expected it to start.

  She bit her lower lip. Would it be wise to try to go forward and cross the bridge, or would she be better off returning to the house?

  A raindrop fell from the sky.

  Well, that settled it. She wasn’t going to take the risk of getting stranded out in the rain.

  She backed up and turned the car so that it was facing the shrubs. Unsure of whether it would make the car die again, she shifted into first gear.

  The car’s engine still hummed.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t want to leave the estate,” she told the car.

  She drove the car back to the garage and parked it. She got into the mansion just as the rain started to come down in earnest.

  ***

  Willow stared out the window in the sitting room as the rain poured down. It had rained all through the night, and this morning, she didn’t see any indication that it was going to stop.

  She pulled the blanket she’d found in her bedroom closer around her shoulders and sank back into a comfortable position on the settee. It was a good thing she was short because if she’d been tall, there was no way she could have been comfortable here. She adjusted the pillow under her head and focused on the book she was holding. This time she’d chosen something darker. It wasn’t a horror novel, but it had some eerie elements in it. She figured it was fitting, given the rain outside.

  Unwittingly, her gaze went to the portrait. She knew Lord Blackwell wasn’t in the thing, but at times, it did seem like he was staring down at her.

  “It’s too bad you’re not still alive,” she said. “You’re kind of cute.” Then, with a chuckle, she let her gaze fall back to the page she was on.

  Thankfully, Mr. Thompson would be by tomorrow to go over the contract for selling this place. Maybe she could get him to take her to town to get the cord for her iPhone. She was starting to grow restless without any connection to the outside world.

  She was able to get lost in the book, and two hours passed before she decided to cook a meal. She ate in the kitchen by the window so she could look out at the rainy fields. She could see the stables from here. She wondered what it must have looked like all those years ago when horses were the main way people got around. Though she did her best to imagine it, she couldn’t picture it. She hadn’t seen enough movies about the Regency or Victorian era to get a suitable idea of how things were back then.

  The most notable thing about being here was the silence. Since she wasn’t able to use her iPhone and there was no TV or radio, the only noises she ever heard were the ones she made. That was one good thing about the rain. The pitter-patter of drops hitting the mansion gave her something to listen to.

  After she put the dishes in the dishwasher and started it, she went to her bedroom and took a long, hot shower. It was a good thing she’d brought plenty of books to read. If she hadn’t, she might go crazy here. She wasn’t an extrovert, but she was beginning to miss other people.

  Mr. Thompson would be here tomorrow. Then she could get a cord for the iPhone, and she’d be connected with the world again. After that, she’d be here only for a few more days. Mr. Thompson had assured her that she wouldn’t miss her flight back to the US.

  She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. She turned on the lamps in the room, picked up the book she’d been reading, and sat on the settee at the foot of the bed. She was dry by the time she finished the book.

  After she put the book back in her suitcase, she got dressed into her pajamas and brushed her hair. Then she put her hair into a ponytail. She went to the clock above the fireplace mantle. It was amazing it still worked after all this time. It was only 7:48. It was too early to go to sleep.

  She glanced out the window. The rain had finally let up, but the clouds still made it darker than it should be this time of evening. She didn’t know if she should start another book or wait until tomorrow. While it was early and she was bored, if she ended up getting caught up in the story, she wasn’t going to be able to sleep well until after midnight. Mr. Thompson had said he was going to be here around nine. She’d like to have enough time to eat and get ready before he came.

  With a sigh, she put on her slippers and peered out of the bedroom. The hall was darker than she’d expected it to be, but she could see her way just fine. She could go downstairs and do some more exploring and then come back up here when she grew tired.

  Decision made, she stepped into the hallway. Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze went to the mirror that was covered with the sheet. She stared at it for a long moment, wondering what had gotten her attention.

  Maybe she should just yank the sheet off of it. She didn’t know why it mattered if the mirror was covered or not. Though she’d made an effort to ignore it, the fact that a sheet concealed the mirror made her think something weird was behind it.

  She rolled her eyes. Reading the spooky story didn’t help. All it did was encourage her imagination to run wild.

  That settled it. The best thing she could do was take the sheet down. She could always pin it back up when she left.

  She went back into the bedroom and retrieved the chair that was in front of the vanity. She set it in front of the mirror and stepped on it. She searched along the edges of the sheet for the pins that were holding it in place.

  Weird. There didn’t seem to be anything. The dimness in the hallway didn’t help. She felt along the wall just above the mirror. If she was smart, she’d wait and do this tomorrow morning when the sun would give her all the light she needed.

  Just as she was ready to give up, her fingers brushed a nail. She had to use her fingernails to pry it from the wall, but it worked. It turned out there were two nails holding the sheet in place. Years and years of them being here had turned the metal into a dark purple shade.

  She took the sheet and brought it down with her as she stepped onto the floor. She glanced at the mirror and saw her reflection staring back at her. Already, she felt better. Taking the thing down was going to save her imagination from going in all sorts of horrible directions.

  She folded the sheet and picked up the chair. She set the chair in front of the vanity then placed the sheet on the chair. She intended to put the nails on top of the folded sheet, but they were no longer in her hand.

  Her gaze swept the floor. She didn’t see the nails there. She stepped into the hall and squinted in the dim light. She bent down and slowly walked back to the mirror, studying the floor as she did so. But she didn’t see the two nails anywhere.

  She thought she’d had a secure grip on them. She didn’t know where she’d dropped them. Certainly, they had to be somewhere. Things just didn’t disappear.

  When she reached the mirror, a light flickered at her. Her head snapped up. There was a flickering light coming from one of the bedrooms. She gasped and turned back to look at the bedrooms behind her. There was light coming from her bedroom, but it wasn’t flickering.

  She struggled to come up with a logical reason as to why a light should be flickering in the mirror. It coul
d be a trick of the eyes, she supposed. Maybe some discrepancy in the glass was making the light appear to be flickering. It was an old mirror.

  She looked back into the mirror and focused on which bedroom the flickering light was coming from. Eyebrows furrowed, she counted the doorways until she found the right one. Then she turned to the hall behind her and counted those doors.

  Her eyes grew wide. The light in the mirror wasn’t coming from her bedroom. In fact, the mirror wasn’t showing her any light coming from her bedroom. She had missed that at first, but now that she was paying attention, she noticed the distinction.

  No, this wasn’t possible. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her.

  But then she saw a man leave the bedroom closest to the mirror. His back was to her the whole time he walked down the hall and headed for the staircase, so he didn’t look at the mirror.

  With a scream, she ran into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. She searched the doorknob for a lock, but there was no lock on it.

  What was wrong with the people who’d lived here before? Why hadn’t they put a lock on the door? All bedrooms should have doors that locked this day and age.

  She searched the room and saw the settee at the foot of the bed. Hoping the man wouldn’t come in, she hurried over to it and dragged it to the door, ignoring the marks it made as the wooden feet scraped along the floor. Once she shoved it in front of the door, she took everything heavy she could find and put it on the settee. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it was all she could think of to prevent someone from coming in here.

  After a moment of staring at the obstacle she’d put up, she rummaged through the bedroom and bathroom to see if there might be any weapon she might use in case the man managed to break in. She found an old candlestick tucked away at the back of the empty armoire. It was better than nothing. She pulled it out and held it to her chest.

  She grew still and listened for any noises she might hear from outside the room.

  Everything was quiet.

  No footsteps or anything else to let her know someone was out there.

  What was going on? She hadn’t imagined it. Yes, reading the book had spooked her, but it couldn’t have spooked her to the point where she was seeing things that weren’t there.

  She went to the window and looked outside. The clouds were starting to part, showing traces of the sunset across the horizon.

  There wasn’t another mansion or a road or anything that gave her signs of other people. All she saw was the gazebo, the stables, the trees, and a couple of hills in the far-off distance.

  She’d never felt more isolated in her entire life.

  And worse, if she needed help, no one would know. Her cord wasn’t charging her iPhone. She couldn’t even make an emergency phone call.

  With her free hand, she rubbed her head as she stumbled over to the bed. She didn’t know what else she could do except stay in here until tomorrow morning when Mr. Thompson was due to come by.

  She propped one of the pillows up on the headboard and settled against it. She was going to leave the light on tonight. If that man did come in here, she wanted to know about it.

  But he wasn’t on this side of the mirror. Was he?

  She didn’t know what to think. Everything had happened so fast, and she was too freaked out to think clearly. All she could do was get through the night and go back to one of the nearby cities. Then she’d stay in a hotel until it was time to fly back to the US.

  With a shaky breath, she set the candlestick in her lap and patiently waited for morning.

  Chapter Four

  Somehow, Willow managed to drift off to sleep at some point during the night. When she woke up, it was morning.

  She’d done it! She’d made it through the night!

  She scrambled out of the bed and checked the clock on the fireplace mantle. It was 8:30. She had just enough time to pack everything.

  She hurried to get dressed, and since it would cut down on her time, she opted to leave her hair in a ponytail. She threw everything into the suitcase and zipped it shut. She hesitated for a moment to remove the items from the door but realized there was only one way she was getting out of this room.

  Once she put everything back into place, she picked up the candlestick and opened the door a crack. Sunlight lit up the hallway so it didn’t look as creepy as it had last night.

  Well, that was promising.

  She opened the door further and poked her head into the hallway.

  No one was there. All was quiet.

  She released her breath and took a tentative step into the hall.

  Still, no one.

  She glanced at the mirror. She saw a reflection of herself standing in the hallway, gripping the candlestick as if her life depended on it. There was no one else around. There wasn’t even the strange flickering light coming from the other bedroom.

  To be sure, she glanced, once more, at her surroundings. Everything was the same as it was in the mirror. She released her breath. Maybe it had been a trick of her mind. Or maybe not. She couldn’t let her guard down completely.

  Chimes came from the front door.

  Mr. Thompson was early. Thank goodness!

  Clutching the suitcase handle, she ran down the hall and the stairs. She made it to the front door just as he pressed the doorbell again.

  “Miss Knudson,” Mr. Thompson greeted with a smile, “how have you been?”

  Now that she was standing right in front of him, she felt a little foolish about getting so scared, but even so, she said, “I think someone snuck into this house yesterday. Would you mind searching through the place?”

  “No, not at all. Violet and her crew have returned in case there was anything that needs to be cleaned or repaired.” He gestured to the purple van with pink flowers on it. The words Violet’s Cleaning & Maintenance Service was painted under the flowers. We’ll be more than happy to see if the intruder is still here.”

  “Thank you.” Feeling much better, Willow put the candlestick on the small table in the foyer. “I’ve also decided I don’t want to stay in this place for the next week. I’d rather stay in a hotel.”

  “That will be fine. I can take you there. We can put your suitcase in my car, and then I’ll talk to Violet about sending her men to search the premises.”

  Glad it was going to be that easy, she pulled the handle of her suitcase and rolled it to the door. Recalling the car, she stopped and added, “The car in the garage also needs to be looked at again. I tried driving it out of here, and it stalled out at the bridge.”

  “I’ll mention that to her as well. Let me take that for you.” He lifted the suitcase.

  Without looking back, she followed him to his car. Once he put her suitcase in the trunk, he went over to the van where Violet and her men waited for his instructions.

  Already, Willow felt better. She glanced at the mansion. It had some signs of aging on its exterior. The stone walls had seen better days, but overall, it was remarkable it’d been kept up so well over the centuries. She was sure this was going to make an awesome home for someone.

  She settled back into the seat and closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed talking to another person until now. Maybe if she’d had access to the internet or could have watched TV, she wouldn’t have felt so isolated. The lack of communication with the outside world made this place feel like it’d been suspended here in time, as if it was waiting for Lord Blackwell to return.

  She shivered and opened her eyes. The day was a bright and sunny one. There were puddles here and there, and the grass was still wet, but for the most part, the effects of the rain were gone. It left the place with a cheerful appearance.

  When Mr. Thompson got into the driver seat, she straightened up.

  “I’m sorry your stay here wasn’t the holiday you were expecting,” he said as he started the car.

  “Holiday?” she asked.

  “Vacation,” he clarified.

  She further relaxed as
he drove down the driveaway. “I’m not used to spending so much time doing nothing. I like to keep busy.”

  “Well, there’s plenty to do in the city. You’ll have lots to keep you occupied. Still, I hope it was a nice experience to be out here, minus the intruder.”

  “It was.” Since nothing bad had happened to her, she could say it had been fun to spend a few days in a luxurious estate. She didn’t plan to spend the money she got from the sale of this place on anything lavish. All she needed was a nice little home. Ideally, this would happen after she found someone to marry, but it was hard to know what the future would bring.

  “We can take care of the paperwork at a restaurant,” Mr. Thompson said.

  That sounded good to her. She hadn’t had anything to eat that morning. There was no way she could have made anything in that large kitchen where someone could be hiding, especially with all of those sharp knives nearby. She crossed her arms and pushed that particular thought out of her mind. She supposed, if nothing else, she did have an interesting story to tell her co-workers.

  She took a moment to appreciate the work that had gone into arranging the shrubs on both sides of the driveway so that they lined the path perfectly. Had Lord Blackwell been the one who had instructed the gardener to do this, or had it been someone else in the family tree who’d been responsible for it?

  She probably should do some research on her family line after she got back to the US. It would be interesting to see if she could trace everyone back to Lord Blackwell. And who knew? Maybe she could go even farther than that.

  They reached the bridge, and, to her surprise, the car stalled out, just as the one in the garage had.

  Mr. Thompson frowned and turned the key in the ignition to get it to start, but it didn’t work.

  “This is a new car,” he said. “There’s no reason why it shouldn’t work.”

  “This is exactly what happened to me yesterday,” she replied. With a sigh, she asked, “How far is it to the nearest gas station or some form of civilization?”