Someone to Love Read online

  The two men struck a bargain. They agreed that their children would marry and they’d all live together in the big house. But it was a devil’s bargain. Danny Longstreet was an uneducated lout who drank and gambled and frequented houses of ill repute. Ann Stuart was a lady of the highest reputation, quiet and scholarly, beloved by everyone.

  “Ann tried to obey her father,” N. A. Smythe wrote, “but when it came down to it, she couldn’t go through with the marriage. Two hours before her wedding, she drank a bottle of poison. She killed herself rather than marry a good-for-nothing like Danny Longstreet.

  “Ann was buried in her wedding dress, but unfortunately, she had to be buried outside the sanctity of the churchyard because of her suicide.

  “A few weeks after the marriage was supposed to have taken place, a local Margate girl revealed that the father of her illegitimate child was Danny Longstreet.

  “Poor Ann, may she rest in peace.”

  Jace closed the book. No, Ann Stuart didn’t rest in peace. In fact, she didn’t rest at all. She was doomed to wander about Priory House for…How long? he wondered. Until someone found out she had been murdered and hadn’t commited suicide?

  He sat up straighter. Murder. When Jace first heard that the woman he loved had committed suicide, he’d said she’d been murdered, but no one would listen to him. Stacy had been an insomniac, so she’d always had sleeping pills. But in the years they’d known each other, she’d gradually come to stop using the pills. He hadn’t even known she still had a prescription. After her death, a doctor he’d never heard of had called to apologize for giving Stacy a new prescription. “I heard about her death,” the doctor had said. “She was a new patient and I had no idea she was an addict or a manic-depressive.” “She was no such thing!” Jace had said before his uncle Mike took the phone. Mike spoke quietly to the man for a few minutes, then hung up. Mike’s face was red with anger. “I think he’s worried we’ll sue so he’s trying to establish that Stacy was mentally unsound.” All Jace heard of that sentence was the word “was.” Stacy was gone.

  During the weeks in hell that followed Stacy’s death, all Jace seemed to hear was that Stacy was “unstable” and had had years of counseling. Her family seemed to agree that being engaged to someone like Jace, so busy with work, always traveling, had sent her over the edge. She’d wanted out of the marriage but didn’t know how to say the words. Stacy’s stepmother said that Stacy hadn’t wanted to hurt Jace’s feelings. “So she killed herself?” Jace said. At that, Stacy’s stepmother had started crying, Stacy’s father had led her away, and Uncle Mike had taken Jace away.

  It hadn’t taken much thought to see how much Stacy’s stepmother had to gain with Stacy’s death being a suicide. With Stacy gone, she had all her husband’s attention. The man had never cared much for his other daughter, Regina, who had married young and produced four homely children. Stacy had been the one to laugh, the one to put a sparkle in her father’s eye.

  Jace closed his eyes and let himself remember something he’d tried to forget: Stacy’s funeral. Mr. Evans’s face had been bleak, his eyes dull and red with grief. Stacy had been his favorite. He used to say that she’d caused him problems, but she was worth it. At the funeral, Mr. Evans was slumped in a chair, numb from shock. Hovering over him were his young wife and his unloved second daughter, consoling him over the suicide.

  What would have happened if Stacy’s death had been declared a murder? Jace thought. Roger Evans wouldn’t have needed the comfort of two women. He would have been a lion in a rage. He would have put his life on hold until he found out who had killed his precious daughter.

  Jace’s mother always said that if you wanted to know why someone did something, then you should look at the result. When Stacy’s stepmother and her sister had blamed Jace and told the English police that Stacy was deeply unhappy, they’d achieved two things. They’d claimed Roger Evans’s undivided attention, and they’d rid themselves of the Montgomerys. Jace was well aware of how pleased Roger had been that his daughter was marrying into the Montgomerys, a family of wealth and power. That must have hurt Regina, as her husband couldn’t seem to hold a job.

  Jace ran his hand over his eyes. Right now everything seemed clear. At least the motives of the people who were still living seemed clear.

  But what about Stacy?

  Jace looked about the room. He knew without a doubt that he’d been led to this house. It seemed that the letter he’d found had waited for him for three whole years. He’d needed time to get over his grief and shock about Stacy, and he’d needed time to realize that he had to find out the truth. He couldn’t continue in his life afraid that each woman he met was going to…He couldn’t bring himself to think of the possible consequences.

  Murder, not suicide. It was an idea that had always been in his head, but who, why? How?

  The one thing he was truly sure of was that it was no coincidence that he was seeing a ghost who was believed to have committed suicide.

  Jace picked up The History of Margate and looked at the story about Ann again. From the little bit he’d heard in his dreams, it seemed that everything in the story was wrong. From Catherine’s tone of voice, he didn’t think Ann was Arthur Stuart’s “beloved” daughter. And far from wanting to get out of marrying a rogue like Danny Longstreet, Ann was looking forward to it.

  “What happened?” he asked aloud. “And what can I do about any of it?” He knew Ann had shown herself to other people—or been seen by them—but only he had seen her outside. That had to be significant.

  Jace stood up. He knew he needed Ann Stuart. He needed what she’d seen happen in this house, and he felt that she needed him too. It was his guess that she’d been searching for…He calculated. Was it was possible that for a hundred and twenty-seven years she’d been searching for someone to help get her body into the sacred ground of the churchyard?

  “You help me and I’ll help you,” he said, but felt no response. The room, even the house, felt empty. It made Jace smile when he thought that twice now he’d frightened Ann: once in the garden and once in her own time. For all he knew, right now she was hiding in Barbara Caswell’s tower room and planning to never come out.

  He needed to talk to her and tell her of his problems with Stacy. He had to get her to come to him.

  A slow smile spread over his face. He was going to court her. Entice her. He was going to create a web, then draw her into it.

  Still smiling, Jace went into the big bedroom to pack his overnight case. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he knew he was going to have to trust some people.

  5

  Gladys put down her paintbrush. “I need a rest.”

  “Sure, as soon as—” Jace looked at Mick and Gladys and saw the way they were looking at him. They were young and in love and they wanted some of the weekend to be alone. It was three o’clock on Sunday afternoon and he’d had them working since two on Friday.

  “Go on,” he said, “I’ll finish here. You two—” They were out of the room before he finished the sentence.

  “It looks good,” Gladys called back to him as she and Mick ran down the stairs.

  Jace had to control his feelings of jealousy as their laughter rang through the house. “This house needs some laughter,” he said, then stepped back to look at Ann’s room. It did look good.

  On Friday he’d told Mrs. Browne he was going to spend the weekend in London. He’d politely listened to her explain that in England one spent the week in London and the weekend in the country. “But I’m not English, am I?” Jace said, knowing that, to her mind, “not being English” was worse than any crime.

  When he got to his car, as he hoped, Mick was nearby and Jace offered him a weekend job.

  “In London? With my girl?”

  “If you don’t mind staying at Claridge’s,” Jace said and thought Mick was going to faint with happiness. Even country folk knew Claridge’s was a world-renowned hotel.

  Since Jace didn’t want the village to know