The Secret of Langley Manor

  The Secret of Langley Manor

  A Mystery Suspense

  Alicia Donovan

  Skylan Publishing House

  Also by Alicia Donovan

  Mercy Hospital Series

  Cinderella Lane

  The Troll Husband

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author

  Preview of Cinderella Lane

  Copyright © 2020 Alicia Donovan

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and a resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Edited by Lia Huntington

  Cover by Alicia Donovan

  Chapter 1

  From the backseat of the Uber, I peered down the unending forest-lined driveway. Thick branches blocked what little light the grey day allowed, making the gloom that much worse. Offshoots from the bare limbs stretched out toward me with overlong, claw-like fingers as we drove higher and higher up the mountain.

  I shivered.

  “It’s a long drive,” I mumbled.

  The blue-jean-and-flannel-clad Uber driver glanced at me, using the rearview mirror. “Sure is,” he said in his soft Tennessee accent.

  That was it. A man of few words.

  Behind me, lightning split the sky so close I swore I heard the sizzle. The sharp smell of ozone filled the air just as a few hard raindrops smacked the windshield. I would have laughed at the ominous setting, but the damp had already settled in, chilling me to the bone and dulling my sense of humor.

  I threw a glance at the canopy of trees, searching for a break to peek at the ever-darkening sky and hoping to get to the house before the threatening storm broke. I pulled my thin, tattered coat tighter, wishing I could have afforded a new one. I was cold enough-the autumn-chilled rain it would let in wouldn’t be welcome.

  Just when it seemed the driveway would never end, it opened up onto a large, meticulously mowed lawn in front of a massive stone building. Even this late in the year the lush yard was impressive, and the only part of the property already put right.

  The massive stone building was Langley Manor, and it towered over its surroundings. Exactly when did a home stop being a house and start being a mansion? Whatever that was, this one had passed it long ago.

  I’d seen only pictures of the manor before accepting the job, but seeing the house in person took me aback. It was both more and less than I’d expected.

  From one end to the other, the long, three-story stone building cried for help. Parts of the masonry had broken off and lay in the long-untended garden. More than one ruined window displayed cracks, and many of the shutters still remaining blew back and forth in the powerful wind, banging against the grey walls. It was only a matter of time before they were gone too.

  The Uber driver turned into the circle end of the drive and braked the car. He looked from me to the house. “They’ve been working on the thing.”

  “It was worse?” I couldn’t help my shocked tone. My long-time foster brother, Sean, had recommended me for this job, giving me a chance at my first solo gig. Even though the job was half a state away, I’d jumped at it. Now that I saw the huge wreck, I wondered if I was up to the task.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s come a long way.”

  I threw the building one more glance as I gathered my purse and backpack together. The driver seemed glued to his seat. “My suitcase is in the trunk,” I reminded him.

  “Right.” He hopped out of the car, opened the back of the vehicle, and pulled out my large, heavy suitcase, plopping it onto the ground.

  Hands full, I looked at the driver, my suitcase, and the large black doors of the house.

  He seemed to get the hint, but it didn’t change his mind.

  The man shrugged. “Sorry. Storm’s coming.” As he said the words, a long rumble of thunder vouched for their truthfulness.

  My suitcase would go nowhere unless I dragged it there myself. I frowned and thought, Thanks, guy, you’re a real help. But I could really only blame myself for still feeling like I needed to drag all my important belongings along with me wherever I went.

  He walked away but instantly turned back. “I hope you do okay. I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  Unease started in the pit of my stomach. “What do you mean? What will be fine?”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. But some people—some people come here and disappear.” He almost whispered the last word, his face losing a bit of its color as he scanned the front of the house. “I’m sure you’ll be okay, though. Just get your job done and get back to town.”

  Full of questions, I took a quick step toward him as he scurried toward his car again.

  A harsh flash of light cracked overhead.

  The Uber driver looked from the heavens to a window high in the house’s peak.

  I followed his gaze. An inky shadow moved behind the glass.

  The driver became paler, but shook his head and uttered a weak chuckle. “I’m paranoid. It’s probably nothing.”

  He pulled a battered business card out of his pocket and pushed it into my hands. “But keep this, in case you need a ride. You’ll need it. Cell phones don’t work all the way out here, so you’ll need to use the landline.”

  “What?” I exclaimed. But he was already rushing to his car. I stood there, clenching my purse as he slammed the small vehicle’s door shut and sped back down the driveway.

  Like a bat out of—

  No. Stop. No need to think like that. I shoved the disturbing feeling away as I turned and looked at the worn house. It wasn’t that bad. It couldn’t be any worse than Heritage Hall, the drafty ancient group home I’d often been assigned in between foster parents.

  I gave the mansion a critical eye. It must have been fabulous before falling into disrepair, and it would amaze again once the owner got it into shape. I imagined floating up the stairs in a long evening gown. Maybe Mr. Langley would have a formal when the construction was completed.

  I scoffed at myself. Like I would be invited. I was only a worker, even if my burgeoning career as a light designer made me feel important.

  A chill, earthy-smelling wind swept along the ground and rose, swirling my hair and reminding me of the threatening downpour. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed my suitcase by the handle. The tiny wheels bogged in the gravel, making it almost impossible to haul onto the wide sidewalk. Pulling with both hands, I yanked it up the last five steps to the front door.

  My heart pounded from the unexpecte
d workout as I used the large silver knocker to rap on the door. I turned to search the scenery as thunder echoed through the mountain.

  From this vantage point, I could see the miles of trees spread below me without a break to be seen. No roads other than the one we’d traveled to get up here, and very few houses. The closest was miles away.

  I shivered. It was such a remote place. Too remote.

  Once again, I reprimanded myself. Sean had worked on the property as an electrician for weeks now. He wouldn’t have encouraged me to take the job if anything weird was going on.

  A pelting rain began on the other side of the circle drive, and slowly inched itself my way. I prepared for its assault by doing the only thing I could do; I put my purse over my head.

  The sound of someone fumbling with the locks had me swirling back toward the door. A tall, stout, silver-haired woman with a stern face stood in the open entryway.

  She stared at me for a moment, clearly unimpressed by what she saw, then stepped back and waved me in.

  Racing the rain, I threw the items I held to the flagstone floor and pulled on my suitcase handle. When the big thing refused to budge, I put both hands on it and hiked it over the threshold, almost tumbling backward onto the shiny white floor as I did so.

  Gasping, I slammed the door shut just as the first raindrops hit the porch.

  One eyebrow arched, the woman pursed her lips and said, “Abigail Anson, I presume.”

  Chapter 2

  I put my hand to the mess my hair had become, trying to finger comb it as the intimidating apron-clad woman stared at me. Childhood memories tumbled back, reminding me of disapproving foster and houseparents. Why was it that I never quite measured up?

  I held in a sigh. I’d learned a long time ago that life was full of bumps. And it was usually more beneficial to go along until you understood what was going on than buck the system from the beginning.

  “Yes. I’m the light designer.”

  At least, I thought I was, though the two insignificant jobs I’d done on my own hadn’t prepared me for a massive job like this. But Mr. Langley knew I had little experience, and he’d said he liked to help those starting out.

  My gaze traveled from the large shimmering chandelier over my head to the tiny side-table lamps. The setup left the room over-bright in some areas and gloomy in others. If this was any indication of the rest of the house, I’d have a lot of work on my hands.

  The woman made a noise in the back of her throat to get my attention. “I’m Mrs. Baker, and at the moment I’m both cook and lead housekeeper.” She paused as if waiting for a reaction, so I nodded. She continued, “I’ll tell Mr. Langley you’ve arrived.”

  I nodded again. Mrs. Baker seemed to approve of non-verbal answers.

  I was eager to meet the owner of the house face to face. Mr. Langley’s earlier communications had come across as friendly, and I wanted to thank him again for taking a chance on a total unknown for this project. I scanned the spotless entry again. Sean was right—this one job could make my career. It would be worth the distance I’d come and even the odd necessity of living on the job.

  Mrs. Baker tramped over a thick area rug and disappeared into a room along the hallway. I heard some low mumbling through the open door.

  Then, without a doubt, “Not right now, Mrs. Baker.”

  After another spate of half-heard conversation, a deep voice rumbled, “I do not want to see the woman at this time! Later.”

  I stepped back and froze as my hopes fell. This was not the professional welcome I’d expected.

  Mrs. Baker rounded the corner and marched toward me, a flush reddening her cheeks. “Mr. Langley is not to be disturbed right now.”

  Where was the cordial person I’d exchanged emails with? Evidently, Mr. Langley’s pleasant moods came and went.

  “It’s been a rough day for the man,” she added, making his excuses. “He’s under some stress.”

  The effort endeared me a bit to the rigid housekeeper. “Of course.”

  “We’ll get you to your room.” She eyed me and my suitcase before saying, “Just one minute,” then disappeared around a corner on the opposite side of the hall from where Mr. Langley had been. After a moment or two, she reappeared. “I called for Sean to help with your luggage,” Mrs. Baker explained. “I believe he helped you get this job.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” My shoulders lost some of their tension. It would be good to see a friendly face.

  An awkward minute later, Sean threw open the front door and strolled through, his arms opened wide. After grabbing me into a big bear hug, he hiked my oversized suitcase onto his shoulder. “Where to, Mrs. Baker?”

  The woman’s entire demeanor changed. Under Sean’s blazing smile, her stern expression softened, and she seemed ten years younger. “Right this way.”

  I followed along behind them like the caboose on a small train, thankful for Sean’s bulging muscles, which saved me hauling the massive bag up what amounted to two flights of stairs.

  They directed me to an adequate white-walled bedroom that smelled of lemon polish. It contained a double bed piled with blue blankets, a nice-sized dresser, and a smallish paned window. It was a sparse room on the third story, and newly restored unlike the unimproved areas we had walked through.

  “I’ve put you in the room closest to the bathroom,” Mrs. Baker said before pointing out that room and a nice-sized closet. “Are these all your things? Or will more be coming?”

  “This is all.” I was now second-guessing my decision. Perhaps I should have brought more clothing. The suitcase contained my computer, tablet, sketchbooks, pencils, several light design books, and some small tools. I had figured on a month here, but I’d have to work at an incredible speed to make a dent in that amount of time.

  “All right. Dinner will be at six. Until then, you are on your own. I need to get back to my kitchen.”

  If I wasn’t mistaken, her emphasis was on ‘my.’ As she turned away and started back down the long hallway, I sent Sean a questioning look.

  “She’s peeved you’re going to be messing with her territory,” he whispered. “She wants the kitchen left as is.”

  “Ms. Anson.” Mrs. Baker’s voice seemed to echo on the corridor’s bare white walls.

  I jumped, sure the woman had caught us gossiping about her.

  “As you can imagine, some parts of the house are rather chaotic with all the construction going on. Stick to the main rooms until Mr. Langley gives you permission to wander. For your own safety, of course.”

  “I understand.” It seemed an odd request.

  After waiting for her to disappear around the stairwell, I said, “I don’t think she likes me very much. But I guess if she’s that territorial about the kitchen, her chilly attitude makes more sense.”

  “Her mother worked here as a cook. The place is special to her.”

  “Doesn’t she realize that any changes will benefit her?”

  Sean hooted out a laugh. “I’ll just let you tell her that.”

  “She seems to like you.”

  “Smiling often and complementing her food helps a lot.”

  I laughed along with him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Going to the window, I looked out. Below me, to the left, was a huge lake with a modest sandy beach. To the right was a large fenced area where one lonely-looking muscular black horse ripped a mouthful of grass from the ground and chewed it. A small bright-white barn stood behind the animal.

  “The master’s horse.”

  I almost choked on my laughter. “The what?”

  “Oh, Mr. Langley’s not a bad guy, but he’s definitely in charge. That stallion is his, and heaven help anyone who touches it without permission.”

  “I take it that’s what you did.”

  “Of course. You know me. Almost got fired.” He pointed at the barn. “But the man works hard, and I gotta respect that. He put that little barn together almost by himself. Plans on a bigger one so his other horses c
an be here, but he said that’ll do for now.”

  His finger moved to the beach. “He had that put in for all of us. It’s nice when the weather is decent.”

  So maybe Mr. Langley was in a good mood more often than he was cranky? “That was thoughtful of him.”

  “Yeah, it can get a little dull out here in the boonies.”

  “I can imagine. Sean, this place is enormous! You sent me information on less than half of the rooms. Why didn’t you tell me it was so big?”

  He took my hand and plopped onto the bed, dragging me to sit beside him. “Abby, I knew you wouldn’t come if you felt overwhelmed, so when Langley told me to send the specs, I sent part of them.” Sean ignored the side-eye I gave him and continued, “But I talked to your old boss before I mentioned this job to you. She said you are more than ready. You trained for a year under her, and she said you did beautiful work on those measly”—he chuckled—“two jobs you finished on your own. Just think of this as one room at a time.”

  “That’s not exactly possible. Everything needs to flow.”

  “Abigail, you are here. Do your best. You’ll know in a few days if it’s not for you. But surely you can see this job is a career-maker.”

  “You’re right, even if the house is a little creepy. Though I guess it’s bound to be before it’s fully renovated. But my driver here . . .” I hesitated a minute before I told him how weird the driver had been and what he’d said.

  Sean slapped his knee in amusement. “This place just gets better and better. The villagers are superstitious! That tops the cake, doesn’t it? Creepy house, superstitious townsfolk, unexplained happenings.” He put his hands by his face and wiggled his fingers.