The Secret of Langley Manor Page 4

  I stopped and listened. A sharp ringing blow resonated.

  Yep, definitely where it was coming from.

  After standing, I put my hands on my hips as I looked from one side of the room to the other. Could I move the bed and put something over the grate? Night after night of little sleep would catch up with me in no time.

  Gripping the cool metal footboard, I pulled. The bed didn’t budge. After moving to the opposite side of the bed, I gave a mighty push.

  It scraped across the floor, scuffing it. I sucked in a breath as I looked at the damage. One wooden plank now had a mark about an inch wide. That would come out of my pay.

  The sound stopped so I I flopped down on the bed. Maybe Sean could help me move the bed tomorrow.

  I laid back down and pulled my blankets over myself only to have the banging start again in double-time. I bolted back up, head in hands. Maybe if they knew they were disturbing me they would work on this later.

  I threw a glance at the window. Was it worth tracking them down? A bleary look at my cell phone told me it was two o’clock. I could get hours more sleep if this could be worked out.

  I jumped out of bed, almost jogging down the hallway as I clenched my phone. Grateful for the scattered little nightlights along the stairs, I lightly ran my hand over the thick wood banister as I descended.

  At the bottom, I turned and looked up at my side of the house. Where was the noisy vent in all that?

  Behind the stairwell, I entered a hallway that ran in the direction I needed to go. As I walked along, I estimated when I was below where my room was located and stopped, facing a wall. There had to be a room back there. To the right was a doorway, and I hesitated for only a moment before I made my way toward it.

  After pushing the door open a crack and seeing nothing but darkness, I whispered, “Hello?”

  The night did nothing but echo my words back to me.

  I peered inside and let my eyes adjust. It was the room Mrs. Baker was so protective of—the kitchen. The area was huge, and gleaming white even in the tiny bit of moonlight making its way through the windows. No wonder she worried about changes. The place was a showpiece.

  Many of the upper ivory cabinets had doors decorated with vintage stained glass, though I couldn’t make out the design. The room had both a modern eight-burner stove as well as another that looked as if it were original to the house. Each was pristine and beautiful in its own right.

  On the granite countertop was a large bowl of fruit, a shining red apple right on top. I padded across the large cold tiles, grabbed the fruit and stuck it in my pocket, beside my phone, for later.

  All the while, I strained my ears for any thumps, bumps, or clangs. Across the room were three white doors, tightly closed. I moved to the first and listened.

  It was fainter here than in my room, but louder as I slowly creaked the door open. I winced, hoping Mrs. Baker wasn’t behind one of the other doors waiting to catch me.

  But she was the least of my worries.

  Now I stared down basement stairs that led to an abyss of blackness.

  I shivered. There was no way I was going down there.

  The clang started again. At the same time, I heard a rustling in the room beside this one.

  I moved to the top basement step and softly shut the door behind me.

  In the dark, every sound amplified. Every breath I sucked in resounded in my ears. The ringing hammer became some distant death knell calling me to my doom.

  I grasped the thin railing, huddling against it and hoping the darkness would clear at least a little bit. It seemed to take forever.

  My cell phone! I jerked it out of my pocket and punched the app for a light.

  I scanned the room.

  Instead of grey block, uncut stone laid upon stone made up the one wall I illuminated, some of them half as big as I stood. I darted down the stairs to shine my little light to the right and left.

  The right was deserted but clean and with no end that I could see. The noise came from the left.

  I followed it into the dark.

  How many times did I tell myself to turn around and go right back upstairs? Over and over. A basement in a house this size could go on forever. Whether it was some strange curiosity or the strong desire to sleep that kept me moving forward, I wasn’t sure.

  I do know not all of me was happy about this because my bare feet slowed on the chilly cement floor.

  But the sound lured me on. I felt anger in the blows and wondered why.

  Eventually, it became clear that it was not a crew working through the night, but one person.

  My way was no longer free of obstacles. What had once been wide open space was now filled with old, dusty boxes and draped furniture, some taller than me.

  I picked my way around them, trying to ignore the odd shadows the stacks created and the fear that someone hid among them.

  My shoulders turned inward and my knees weakened, making me feel smaller and smaller.

  Turn around, my mind said, at first in a whisper, but the words soon thundered inside my body so loud I quaked with each admonition.

  Just as I was about to give in, I spied a light out of the corner of my eye. I rounded a towering pile of antique chairs to take a closer look.

  I inched forward, making sure to keep out of sight.

  I stared at the scene before me. This area of the basement was empty, so that between where I stood and the far wall, there was hardly any debris. It gave me a clear view.

  Coming out of the gloominess, it seemed over-bright even though the man’s light shone away from me.

  It lit the far wall, revealing another wall of stone with a thick wooden door that made me wonder just how old this basement was. Iron hinges held the door in place. A man banged with a crowbar on a massive iron lock that hung from it.

  That man was Sean.

  His name escaped my lips before I could stop it. “Sean?” My voice echoed against the grey walls.

  He swirled around. “Abigail?” His eyes darted from one side of the basement to the other looking for me.

  I stepped out from my hiding place. “What are you doing?”

  “How . . . What?” he floundered.

  “I can hear you all the way up in my bedroom! You woke me up.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Wrong. Possible. There is a vent in my room that must go directly to the basement.”

  “What?” His face paled. “Do you think anyone else heard?”

  “No one else was up that I saw.” Except for that strange rustling I’d heard when I was in the kitchen. But that was probably nothing.

  He visibly relaxed and sighed, saying, “Good.”

  “What are you doing?” I repeated, my voice irritated and sharp.

  Sean rushed over to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer to the door. “Abby! There is a treasure on this property. And I think—I think it is behind this door.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He ran a hand over his face. “Granted, it’s a rumor. But it’s all you hear about in town. The great secret of Langley Manor, and it’s a treasure.”

  “Sean . . .”

  “The first Langley put it here. Now it’s just waiting for someone to find it!”

  I put my hands up, hoping to stop his excitement. “Sean, even if that’s true, it wouldn’t be yours. It’s Michael’s.”

  “He’s got enough money. And before you give me those goody-two-shoes eyes, I checked. The guy’s loaded.” Sean put his hands on my shoulders. “But people like us, Abby—we’ve never had more than a couple quarters to rub together. We’ve worked hard—too hard and never got anything from it. This is the leg up we need.”

  I pulled in a sharp breath.

  “I wouldn’t be greedy,” he continued. “I’d share it with other people who need it. It’d be like Robin Hood. We’d be helping our people. I’m sorry you found out like this. I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

  I stared at hi
m. I couldn’t say I wasn’t, tempted at least a little. He was right. People like us never got a break. It was one slough after another. But this wasn’t something I could do.

  “I can’t, Sean. And neither can you—not really. I know you’ve had your rough patches, but this isn’t you.” I laid a hand on his cheek. “You know that. This is just a lapse in judgement.”

  The light in his eyes—excitement, greed, or both—died. He glanced from me to the door as he dropped his hands from my shoulders. “You’re right. And the stupid thing wouldn’t open anyway.”

  “If you were caught down here, you’d lose your job.”

  “Probably.” Sean sounded resentful as he laid the crowbar against the wall and turned off his light.

  I pulled on his arm as we started across the room. “When did this happen? When did you start wanting so much more?”

  “When haven’t we? All those conversations about what we would do with a million dollars?”

  “Yeah, but . . . in real life, I’d have just been happy with three solid meals and more than one set of clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs.”

  Sean stared at me. “Then you were more content than I ever was.” His eyes narrowed and turned icy. “I’m going to have more some day, Abby. A lot more. And no one is going to stop me, you hear?”

  His flinty voice and hard eyes made me shudder. Was he warning me? It was as if my childhood friend had disappeared. “I do. But right now, I’m worried about your position here. Let’s get upstairs.”

  He turned and stomped through the basement without a light. So he’d been here often enough to make his way through the maze in the dark.

  I turned on my flashlight and silently followed him.

  Why had I come down here? This was a side of Sean I wished I’d never seen.

  Chapter 10

  I crawled back into bed and clenched the covers as I pulled them up to my chin. Sean’s hard face came back to me. Was he capable of hurting someone who stood in the way of his dreams?

  Despite my worry, exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep.

  I woke late the next morning, almost too late for breakfast. Jumping out of bed, I dressed as quickly as possible and practically ran to the stairs.

  At the bottom stood Sean, as if waiting for me. I slowed.

  “Good morning,” he said with a smile.

  A smile was good. I returned his greeting with one of my own. “Good morning.”

  As my foot hit the floor, he leaned toward me, whispering, “About last night. I wasn’t myself. I got a little carried away. You’ve helped me see the error of my ways, dear friend.” He chuckled before turning serious again. “Nothing in that basement is mine. I realize that now. Please don’t tell Langley I was down there.”

  Relief flooded through me. “Oh, Sean, I’m so glad you see it that way. And, of course, I won’t say a word.”

  “Friends again?”

  “Always,” I said as I gave him a quick hug.

  As we walked into the dining room and over to the breakfast buffet Mrs. Baker had prepared for the morning, Michael’s gaze followed us. I smoothed my hair, wishing that I’d taken a few more minutes with my appearance.

  After filling my plate, I went to the seat by Michael. His expression lightened as I sat down beside him.

  “Abigail, I went over the ideas and designs that you left with me yesterday for the room at the end of the right wing. I think they’re perfect. Do you have a few minutes after breakfast to discuss the adjoining room?”

  As I’d just loaded a forkful of omelet into my mouth I nodded, but my whole being lit up.

  Little bubbles of joy tickled my insides. Perfect. He’d thought my ideas perfect. If he liked the last area, he’d love the next one. This house would be a showpiece by the time I was done with it. One I could show potential customers for years.

  As Michael talked to the crew leaders about the projects for the day, I jotted notes about new ideas on my cell phone. At least the thing was useful for something, even if it didn’t have a signal.

  Michael leaned toward me, looking over my shoulder. “Great idea,” he murmured in my ear as he pointed to my list.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking at him. He was close, so close our breaths mingled.

  I heard the clearing of a throat and looked up to see Mrs. Baker beside Michael’s chair. He moved away from me. “Yes, Mrs. Baker?” he asked.

  “If you have a moment this afternoon, I’d like a word.”

  “Of course.”

  I glanced at the housekeeper as she turned away. She was staring at me, her mouth pursed, and that one eyebrow raised. Whatever she was sizing me up for, I’d just failed.

  As everyone began to drift away from the table and toward work, Michael turned to me. “Give me ten minutes, then come to the library, and we’ll go over those designs. Okay?”

  “Sure.” Killing a bit of time would be easy. I could start a sketch of the entryway.

  After the allotted time, I made my way to the library door. After a swift knock, I pushed it open. Michael was on the right side of the room, pushing a large cardboard box into a closet. He picked up his pace. “Oh. Almost done. You can sit over there.” He waved me toward the large desk that had a couple of armchairs cozied up to it.

  Instead, I moved toward him. “I can help. It looks heavy.”

  “No, I’ve got it.” He moved as if to hide it. That only got me more curious.

  I peeked over his bent body and into the closet. The edge of a suitcase hung over one side of the box. The top of a beat-up metal toolbox could be seen below a few bunched up t-shirts. A dark stain with a rip marred the top one. Why was he hiding this?

  “There. All done,” Michael said, brushing his hands together. He turned and had to step back since I was so close to him. Seeing my face, he paused. “These might be Andrew’s things. I-I found them. I’m storing them here for safekeeping until I can hand them over to the police. Please don’t say anything to anyone until I talk to the officers myself. It will only cause concern.”

  “I understand.” But I didn’t. If he really thought they were Andrew’s, why hadn’t he called the police right away? Unless he wasn’t actually going to give the box to them.

  Afterward, we settled in the chairs to look over more light design ideas. I tried to keep my mind on business, but it was hard to ignore the suspicion still nudging me.

  What had really happened to Andrew at Langley Manor?

  Chapter 11

  That evening I wandered out to the back porch and slumped into a cushy outdoor chair. The weather may have been warmer than usual, but I still pulled my sweater closer as I stared at the lake.

  Even emptied of its mysteries, the dark water seemed menacing, especially with evening turning to full twilight. My mind swirled over the events of the last twenty-four hours.

  A dead body and secrets. Everyone seemed to have secrets.

  After pulling my legs up and wrapping my arms around them, I laid my forehead on my knees.

  “Without a doubt, that is a woebegone Abby pose.”

  I raised my head. “Sean.”

  “I hope this isn’t still about me.” He grabbed a chair from the other side of the porch and scraped it over the patio to me.

  “Pick up the chair.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “What’s up?” he asked as he plopped into his seat.

  “Nothing. And no, I’m not still upset at you. We settled that, right?”

  “Of course. Just making sure.” He gave me an intent look. “You have more problems here besides me? Or is something from the outside world catching up with you?”

  “How could anything catch up with me? My phone doesn’t even get a signal out here.”

  Sean stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. “That’s what I like about this place—the isolation.”

  I threw a nervous look at the water. “I’m sure Andrew didn’t appreciate the isolatio
n as he was thrashing and gasping for one more breath. Having a few more people around could have possibly saved his life.”

  Sean gave me a sharp look. “What have you heard?”

  “Nothing. I just supposed.”

  “But you’re upset about it.”

  “It’s not that exactly.”

  “Are you going to make me play twenty questions?”

  I glanced at the house before turning back to him. “It’s not mine to tell.”

  “Is it what happened in the library this afternoon?”

  “What are you talking about?” I said, staring at him.

  “I was at the door, Abby. So just fill in the blanks.”

  “Sean! Since when are you lurking in doorways?”

  “I can’t—” Sean shook his head. “That’s not important right now. What is important is what Langley is up to. What if he is behind what happened to Andrew?”

  My first instinct was to argue with him. But wasn’t that the very worry I’d had last night?

  I sighed. “Michael has a box of Andrew’s stuff. At least, he thinks it was his.”

  “What?” Sean almost choked. “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. I walked into his library, and Michael was shoving it into a closet. I don’t think he wanted me to see it.”

  “What was in it?”

  “A small suitcase. A toolbox. You know, like the heavy one you have. And a few clothes just thrown on top,” I said, my voice lowering with each item. “There was a blue t-shirt with a rip or cut in it and a dark stain.”

  “What’s he doing with that stuff?”

  “That’s what I wondered.” After a glance at Sean, I realized he was talking more to himself than me. I bumped his arm. “He asked me not to tell anyone. And he said he’s going to give it to the police, okay?”

  “Uh—yeah.”

  Sean changed the subject to the work on the mansion. The conversation reminded me of the arrangement I’d made with Mrs. Baker over the kitchen lighting. Hopefully, she’d worked on that list of kitchen updates.

  After saying goodnight to Sean, I hurried to the kitchen, hoping to catch the housekeeper before she headed to her own quarters for the night.