Someone to Love Read online

  Jace smiled at Nigh in a way that she didn’t like. “I forgot to ask Mrs. Fenney about Ann’s picture. Maybe we should wander about the house and see if we find a picture of someone who looks like you.” He got up from his chair and headed for the door, but Nigh didn’t move.

  “What are you hiding now?” she asked.

  Jace looked like he’d rather do anything on earth than sit back down and answer her question. But he sighed, then sat down across from her. “I didn’t see anyone,” he said, his head down, not wanting to face her.

  “You what?” she asked, then she stood up and went to the window. She took a moment before she looked back at him. “I don’t like what you’re trying to say. Is it possible that you’re telling me that I was talking to no one?”

  Jace looked up at her and gave her a crooked smile.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. She advanced on him. “You know what I think? I think you’re so obsessed with this whole ghost story that you’re desperate to have someone else in it with you. I think you made up the whole thing about seeing Ann and her cousin talking, and now you’re trying to make me think I too saw a ghost. I can assure you that the man I talked to at length today was as real as you are. I think—”

  “Do you have a reason why I’d do something like that? So I could drum up business for the Ghost Center you made up?”

  Nigh started to say something, but could think of no reason why he would make up the ghost story. But then, she knew he was filled with secrets. “I don’t know why you’d do such a thing, but I think—”

  She broke off as he looked through the papers and pulled out one, then he went to the telephone and dialed a number.

  “Who are you calling?” she asked.

  “The vicar. If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe him.”

  Seconds later, Jace was speaking to Father Innis. “Sorry to bother you again so soon, Father, but my assistant has some questions she’d like to ask you.” He handed the phone to Nigh.

  With a look of defiance, she took the phone. “Check your sources” had been drummed into her head since she first started as a journalist.

  “I wanted to ask you about what you said about there not being any Longstreets in the village,” she said. “I read somewhere or heard that there were some Longstreets living in the area.”

  “Not any that are alive,” the vicar said, laughing. “We’ve had a number of reports that a young man fitting Danny Longstreet’s description has often been seen in the churchyard. I didn’t want to say anything as I don’t like to perpetuate such myths, but now that you’ve found out…”

  “I see,” Nigh said, and her knees were feeling weak. “Why do you think Danny Longstreet is hanging around here?”

  “I have no idea. He only lived at Tolben Hall for a few years, but the locals say that their grandparents told them that he was the unhappiest young man on earth. They say he used to ride his horse up the stairs of Tolben Hall. In fact, the legend is that that’s how he died. He got to the top of the stairs on his horse, then fell off, rolled down the stairs, and broke his neck. Dear me! Here I am carrying tales. What was it you wanted to ask me?”

  “This morning I was talking to a young man while I was on the bench by the flowers. He left before I could get his name. I wondered if you knew him.” Nigh glanced at Jace, but he had his back to her as he looked out the window.

  The vicar was silent for quite some time, and when he spoke, his voice was exaggeratedly calm. “I saw you sitting on the bench, your back to us, but I saw no one else.” His voice lowered. “Were you talking to Danny? We’ve had a couple people report that they’ve talked to him.”

  “No, of course not,” Nigh said. “You’re right. I was talking to no one. I, uh…thank you so much, Father Innis, you’ve been a great help. Thank you,” she said again, then hung up the phone.

  Jace turned to look at her and Nigh stared back. Every moment of that morning, of sitting on the bench with that good-looking young man and talking about his ancestors—and maybe hers too—came back to her. But it hadn’t been real. Had he been a ghost? Was that what she was supposed to believe?

  She looked at Jace, saw his eyes widen in alarm, then the next second, everything went black.

  When Nigh awoke, she was on top of the bed, the cover folded around her; the curtains were drawn and there was a cold washcloth on her forehead. As she tried to sit up, the door to the bathroom opened and Jace came out with another washcloth.

  “Be still,” he said, coming to sit by her on the bed as he changed washcloths.

  “I don’t want this,” she said, pulling the thing off and trying to sit up. But she was woozy and dizzy and she fell back onto the bed.

  She looked at Jace. “How long have I been here?”

  “About four hours,” he said, and when she tried to get up again, he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. “The vicar sent the local doctor and he gave you a sedative. You’re going to be out of it at least until tomorrow morning.”

  “Doctor? Sedative?” Slowly, she began to remember what she’d been told just before the world turned black. “Danny Longstreet,” she whispered. “I sat and talked to a ghost.” She put her hands over her face and began to cry.

  Jace pulled her into his arms and stroked her back and hair as she cried.

  “Why aren’t you afraid of ghosts?” she asked, sobbing into his shoulder. “And why can I handle bombs but not ghosts? What do they want of you? Of me?”

  “You look like Ann and you’re related to her,” Jace said softly. “I would imagine Danny wanted to be near anyone who was part of the woman he loved.”

  “But they never contacted me in all the time I was in Margate,” Nigh said. “I was in that house many, many times, but I never saw a ghost.”

  “I think you felt Ann. I think she took care of you, looked after you.”

  His words and the truth of them made her cry harder for a moment, then the tears began to lessen. Jace gave her a handful of tissues from the box by the bed.

  “Do they want us to do something for them? Find out something?” Nigh asked as she blew her nose. “Why are they appearing to us?”

  “And why are they giving us information?” Jace asked. He put her back on the pillows, but stayed sitting by her on the bed. “Does it seem odd to you that you and I are together? I mean, I own Priory House, and you’re a descendant of Ann Stuart. And now we’re together and we’ve both seen ghosts.”

  “At least you dreamed them,” Nigh said, “so you can stay sane. I was talking to a dead man in broad daylight.”

  “What do we know about ghosts?” Jace asked. “How do we find out more?”

  Nigh blew her nose again. “We don’t know anything because ghosts don’t exist. I see those shows on TV and all people have are feelings, they feel ghosts. If they see one, it’s just as a light. They do not sit on a bench and chat with them. You saw me there, talking away to nobody. You must have thought I was insane.”

  “I had an idea of what was going on. It was a been-there-done-that situation. My concern was if something bad happened.”

  “You mean like Ann did to you, of nearly killing you?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I guess Danny could have carried me off on his horse.” For a moment she put her hands over her face again, then looked up. “This village should have danger signs posted. ‘Warning! You might be accosted by a ghost seeking his long-lost love. In case of terror, see the doctor.’”

  Jace gave a snort of laughter. “In Margate you put a bogus article in a tiny local newspaper and we were deluged by people wanting in on it. Imagine what it would be like if you told a…excuse me…reporter that you’d sat on a bench and had a long conversation with someone who wasn’t there.”

  “I don’t want to imagine it,” she said. “By the way, thanks for not letting me blurt out all that…that Danny and I had talked about.”

  “You’re welcome. I don’t think the people here want more ghost sighting