The forgotten house, p.2
The Forgotten House, page 2
Carrie scoffed, ‘Oh Rachael, how old are you?’
Rachael shrugged. ‘Ten again. That’s what they used to say when we were kids and I still remember it to this day, Christopher Harris in prep school swore on a stack of bibles that he saw the rope and saw someone—maybe the man who hanged himself.’
‘Frank,’ Carrie said.
‘Frank. Frank who?’ Rachael’s interest was piqued. ‘Was he the one who held the dances? Must have had some money; why would you hang yourself if you owned this?’
Rachael saw Carrie flinch.
‘Sorry, Gran, I don’t mean to disrespect the past.’
‘Thank you, my dear. Come on then, we’ll have a look for ourselves.’ Carrie started towards the front steps and the window.
Rachael gasped. ‘No, I’m not going up there.’
Carrie turned back, exasperated. ‘Chicken!’
Rachael’s mouth dropped open and then she laughed. ‘Right then.’ She marched past her grandmother and up the front steps and then she stopped.
She heard Carrie coming up the steps behind her.
‘Go on, put an end to that rumour forever,’ her grandmother encouraged.
Rachael looked at the front window to her left – one of the few that was still intact. She couldn’t see in; the glass was reflecting a tree in the front yard. She took a step towards it and then turned back to Carrie who waited at the top step.
‘You’re not coming with me?’
‘I know that there’s no rope there and I know it’s not haunted,’ Carrie smiled.
‘Hmm,’ Rachael all but snorted. She turned back to the window and took another few steps towards it. Standing directly in front of it now, she could hear her heart beating. With an apprehensive glance around her, Rachael stepped forward, cupped her hands and looked inside before quickly stepping back.
‘I did it!’
Carrie laughed. ‘And?’
‘No rope. No ghost. Let’s go.’ She hurried towards the front steps and past her grandmother, hearing Carrie’s soft laughter behind her.
Ducking back through the fence and reaching the car first, Rachael unlocked it and held the passenger door open for her grandmother. As she waited for Carrie to lower herself into the car, Rachael asked, ‘So did Frank really hang himself in that room?’
‘Yes, Frank was the man who hanged himself in that very room. It was a sad, sad day,’ Carrie said.
‘Really? Why did he do it? I thought it was a myth.’
Carrie tucked her dress by her side, looked up at Rachael and nodded, giving her permission to close the car door. Rachael walked around the back of the car to the other side, slid into the driver’s seat and fastened her seat belt.
‘So did you personally know Frank?’ Rachael asked.
‘Yes and I knew his son, James.’
‘Why did he do it?’ Rachael continued to rattle off questions. ‘What happened to James then?’
‘James … James was in love with Lexie, they got married.”
‘Ah-ha! So this house belonged to your … brother-in-law! Why did he give it to charity? How come you never told me this before? How come Mum didn’t mention it? I think you should start from the beginning, Gran, and tell me everything.’ Rachael started the car and leaned over one last time to look at the house with a new interest.
Carrie sighed. ‘My dear your imagination runs away with you. Yes, James was my brother-in-law ever so fleetingly.’
‘Why fleetingly? Did Aunty Lexie ever live here then? Am I wearing you out?’ Rachael smiled.
Carrie laughed. ‘Questions, questions and more questions.’
Rachael drove away from Autumn Manor.
‘You need to understand that it was a different time and I was a different person when Autumn Manor was in its heyday,’ Carrie sighed. ‘I was selfish, conceited, young and full of my own importance. I didn’t realise the value of my sister and what she meant to me.’
Rachael nodded. ‘Does anyone really value their family until they are grown up? When you’re a kid, it’s all about fun and games, mealtimes and who your best friend is that day—that’s about it.’
‘That’s very true,’ Carrie agreed. ‘And in those days it was still very important for a woman to find a suitor and to get married too. Well, that was before the war changed everything and Autumn Manor began her decline.’
Chapter 2
1939 ...
Frank Theroux and his son, James, stood on the terrace, looking out over Autumn Manor’s manicured grounds. Soon hundreds of guests would be arriving through the imposing iron gates, traipsing across the gardens, dancing by the fountain and possibly even swimming in it. For now, it was peaceful.
Frank Theroux closed his eyes and breathed in deeply—the air offered a heady mix of freshly cut grass and pungent roses, carried by the slightest breeze—it was promising to be a perfect evening. The only sounds that could be heard were the splash of water fowl on the lake and the occasional stray musical note floating across the grounds as a ten-piece band set up their instruments.
The house was ready for the evening’s party; champagne flutes were lined up on tables adorned with well-pressed white tablecloths and small lights decorated the pillars and trees, ready to sparkle as night encroached. Inside, through the French doors and across the waxed floors, the kitchen buzzed with staff busily preparing food.
Frank Theroux opened his eyes and greeted the groundskeeper as he walked towards them, his arms laden with long-stemmed white roses.
‘Everything looks perfect, Kenneth; I don’t think the grounds have ever looked as good,’ Frank leaned against the balustrade and surveyed his domain.
‘Thank you, Mr. Theroux. We’re ready for tonight … everything that should be trimmed is trimmed and the lake is full of trout in case you want to invite a few guests to stay on and fish tomorrow.’ He looked down at the roses. ‘I promised Mrs. Atkinson that I would bring some roses up for the entrance vases.’ As he spoke, the housekeeper, Mrs. Atkinson, bustled out and clapped her hands.
James smiled. ‘White roses, Mum’s favourite.’
‘Ay,’ Kenneth nodded. ‘A hybrid tea rose … I named this one Autumn Rose in your mother’s honour. Beautiful scent, the perfect rose.’
‘Beautiful.’ James agreed.
‘Come on, come on, I have a party to organise.’ Mrs. Atkinson took the roses from Kenneth’s hands and shushed him along. ‘Get off my terrace, Kenneth, you’re trailing dirt.’
‘Yes ma’am,’ he barked with a salute and back tracked down the steps.
Frank Theroux laughed. ‘That’s why you are in charge Mrs. Atkinson! Thank goodness for you and Kenneth, what would we do without you, hey James?’
‘Oh go on.’ Mrs. Atkinson blushed with delight and disappeared back into the house, her arms full of roses.
Frank Theroux lowered himself into a chair. He wanted to put his feet up, but with a glance at Mrs. Atkinson arranging roses in the hallway, he thought better of it. James dropped down into the chair beside him.
There was a striking similarity between the men; shared angular faces, towering height and dark hair, although Frank’s hair was more grey these days. There was equally as much of Autumn in James; his mother’s features reflected in his fuller mouth, light blue eyes and compassionate nature.
‘Suppose we should dress soon,’ Frank said.
‘Suppose so.’
They sat in silence. Eventually, Frank spoke.
‘So, son, are you still intending to do it tonight?’
James smiled and turned to his father. ‘Yes, I am.’
Frank nodded, a slow smile crossing his weathered face. He had aged since Autumn’s passing, almost six years ago now, and loss of weight had contributed to his gaunt look. Still, the church auxiliary ladies persisted in dropping off casseroles for him, much to Mrs. Atkinson’s chagrin. ‘As if I’m not feeding you enough’, she would exclaim, seeing right through their actions. ‘They’re looking for a husband, Mr. Theroux, mark my words, you be careful.’ He would laugh and promise not to marry anyone without running it by her first.
Frank studied his son.
‘Does Alexandra know?’
James nodded. ‘Lexie and I have spoken. She knows I’m going to propose, she just doesn’t know when. She knows I asked her father and he said no. But … I want her and she wants to marry me. What do we do?’
Frank looked at his son. ‘Good question, what do you do? Well, you have my support, you know that and I hear Alexandra has a mind of her own, so I suspect she’ll decide not her father.’
James laughed. ‘Yes, thank God she does and thanks Dad, thanks for supporting us.’
Frank continued. ‘I personally don’t care if we offend Taylor. It’s a long life without love, James, and yes, you can grow to love someone or at least learn to happily co-habitate with someone, but why? Why not marry for love if you can?’
‘It may mean she’ll be disinherited,’ James said.
Frank shrugged. ‘I don’t think you two will want for anything.’ He glanced around at the estate. ‘Alexandra is a lovely girl; she has her mother’s charm and manners. Shame that Taylor’s so set on pushing her towards Howell’s son—he’s a nice lad, Anson, but a bit of a peacock. I wouldn’t have thought he had enough up top for Alexandra.’
‘Unlike me.’ James agreed.
Father and son laughed.
‘Yes, you intellectual giant.’ Frank teased him. ‘At least you have a profession and some ambition, even though I would have liked you to have gone into the family business instead of journalism,’ he said with a wink. It was an old discussion that Frank Theroux liked to thread into the conversation every now and then.
‘I never thought about the family business …’ James teased.
‘Hmm! Regardless, I’m sure if your mother was alive, she’d have something to say to Alexandra’s mother about the proposed forced marriage. They were good friends.’
James agreed. ‘Lexie doesn’t see herself as Mrs. Anson Howell but I think her mother wants to keep the peace and just wants Lexie to do what she’s told and make all their lives easier!’
Frank nodded again. ‘Taylor can’t be easy to live with.’
The men, both the silent type, sat and looked out over the grounds.
Mrs. Atkinson’s young housekeeping assistant, Miss Evelyn, stepped onto the terrace balancing a tray of iced tea and biscuits.
‘Excuse me, sir, um, sirs, tea?’
Frank Theroux accepted the glass. ‘Thank you, Evelyn, how thoughtful when you are so busy.’
‘Pleasure, sir.’ She reddened.
He raised his voice slightly. ‘I hope you’ll manage to sneak a glass of champagne or two for yourself tonight, Evelyn. You can blame me if Mrs. Atkinson catches you in the act,’ he said with a glance inside towards Mrs. Atkinson.
‘I heard that, Mr. Theroux,’ Mrs. Atkinson called out.
Evelyn giggled. ‘Thank you, sir, I would love to. Everyone’s so pleased you’re holding the ball again, sir.’ Leaving a tray of biscuits, she hurried back inside.
James grinned at his father.
‘What?’ Frank asked.
‘Nice one. You have them all wrapped around your little finger.’
Frank sipped his iced tea and sighed with satisfaction. ‘I wasn’t always so … pleasant. I learned from your mother that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.’
‘What does that mean?’ James picked a mint leaf out of his glass and cast it into the garden.
‘It means I want to keep our staff happy and praising their efforts is a small thing. I’d hate to lose Kenneth or Mrs. Atkinson or any of their entourage. I know they get offers from other families. Besides, I can’t imagine Autumn Manor without either of them. They’ve been here for as long as I have, we’ve all become part of the furniture.’
‘That’s why you’ve kept the same men in the manufacturing plant too, because you treat them well.’
‘I’ve got a good foreman. He’s fair and a good listener.’ Frank jiggled the ice in his glass. ‘Besides, everything is about to change … the next few months are going to be very interesting.’
‘I know. Working at the paper, you can see it looming, but everyone seems to be in denial. The rumour is that Chamberlain is about to declare war.’
Frank nodded. ‘Inevitable, I’d say; you can only negotiate with and appease a bully for so long before the time for action kicks in.’
James lowered his voice as Evelyn passed with drinks for the musicians. ‘They say Poland will be the trigger and that may be sooner than we think. Hitler won’t be able to help himself; he’ll invade and then it will be war.’
‘Maybe,’ Frank agreed. ‘Although no one lifted a hand to help Czechoslovakia, will they help Poland? Anyway, let the ladies go on believing the world is safe for a little while longer and let’s just enjoy tonight. It’s the end of the season, our last few warm days and this may well be our last ball here, ever.’
Both men sat in silence again. The prospect of James going to war hung in the air like a pressing weight.
James cleared his throat. ‘So, how did you do it?’
‘What?’ Frank asked.
‘Propose to Mum?’
Frank Theroux smiled, took a mouthful of iced tea and leaned back in his chair. He brushed a mark off his grey, pleated pants. ‘I was just lucky. I don’t know why she looked twice at me. Your mother was the life of the party; I swear at her debutante ball, every man in town was lining up to take her out. For some strange reason she decided on me. I could offer her a good life, but I was so quiet, I was never going to be much for company. But she used to laugh and say she could talk enough for both of us. Indeed she could.’
‘So did you go down on bended knee?’
‘Of course. As soon as I was sure that she was interested in me and there wasn’t a better looking gent behind me whom she was smiling at, I marched over to her father’s house, asked permission, then went out and bought the biggest diamond ring I could find.’
‘Ah, doing all the right things,’ James smiled.
‘My mother, your grandmother, insisted I do it right. I got dressed up in my best suit—my only suit actually—and went back over there that evening with the ring in my pocket. I presented her with a huge bunch of flowers and asked for the honour of her hand in marriage. I promised her everything I could think of to persuade her to say yes.’ Frank chuckled at the memory. He swallowed. ‘I just hope I delivered. I hope she was happy, even though it was a shorter life than either of us imagined we’d have together.’
Frank looked away, swirling the remaining ice in his glass in an agitated manner. He finished his drink and leaned forward in his chair.
‘I tell you what though, son, you were the pride and joy of her life. She would be so thrilled with your choice of Alexandra. This house needs a woman’s touch again and I can’t think of a better choice.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘Be wary. Your proposal is going to cause a war—and I’m not talking about the one that’s already brewing—a war between the Taylor and Theroux families and between father and daughter,’ Frank said.
‘I know. I’m ready for that; we both are.’ James assured his father.
Frank frowned. ‘Don’t underestimate Samuel Taylor, James; that would be a big mistake.’ He rose, stretched and tapped his son on the shoulder. ‘Let’s get dressed or the guests will be here while we’re still sipping iced tea. Besides, I suspect you want to practise asking the big question?’
‘No, I’m ready.’ James rose.
Frank watched his son stride confidently into the house and then followed.
Chapter 3
‘You look stunning, both of you.’ Moira Taylor clapped her hands together as she watched her daughters preen in front of the large gilt mirror in Carrie’s bedroom. The curtains moved slightly and Moira lifted her head to enjoy the faint scent of jasmine on the breeze as she sat in the bay window admiring her two daughters.
‘Ah to be young and beautiful again with your whole future before you.’ A look of sadness passed over her face.
Lexie looked at her mother. ‘Mother you are one of the most stunning women I have ever seen! I bet with that tiny waist, you can still fit into your wedding dress.’
‘And you snatched one of the most eligible men in the country,’ Carrie laughed. ‘Even if it was a hundred years ago!’
‘Yes, well thank you Carrie, it wasn’t that long ago but yes, I guess it was a well-matched marriage.’ Moira Taylor added under her breath. She changed the subject. ‘Noella has done a beautiful job with your hair; very elegant.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Noella stood back. ‘I think that might be it.’ She took a mirror and held it behind Carrie, who turned sideways, and front again.
‘Lovely,’ Carrie admired her pinned-up, gold-toned hair and the loose ringlets that enhanced her neck. ‘Thank you, Noella.’
‘Pleasure, ma’am.’ Noella gathered the brushes to clean them and left the room.
‘You have lovely hair.’ Lexie admired Carrie. ‘It does what you tell it to do; you are lucky. Mine is so unruly.’
‘You have my hair, Lexie,’ Moira Taylor said. ‘Thick and a little hard to manage, but it looks lovely tonight.’ She studied her brunette daughter. ‘Now Alexandra, tell me you don’t intend to do anything rash tonight?’
‘You’re in trouble, Alexandra!’ Carrie laughed, emphasising her mother’s use of Lexie’s full name.
‘What would you consider as rash?’ Lexie asked. She lowered herself next to her mother on the window seat of the bay window, fanning her dress out before her.
‘You know what I’m talking about.’ Moira Taylor remained serious.
‘Like eloping!’ Carrie exclaimed, continuing to preen in front of the mirror.
‘Good Lord, no! Nothing like that. For heaven’s sake, tell me you are not thinking of eloping?’ Moira began to fan herself.
