Beautiful Whispers (Ausmor Plantation Book 1 - Romance/Suspense) (17 page)

“You must be freezing.” Byron yanked off some coat I’d been wearing and wrapped me into his warm jacket.

I looked up at the snow slowly falling and the twinkly lights and over towards the house
lit up where sounds of laughter pushed out. “Are we having a party?”

Byron wrapped his arms around me to warm me. “Christmas party.” He stood in front of me and took my hands. “It’s okay now. You’re back.”

I frowned. I didn’t know what he meant.”

He lifted my
wrist up. “New bracelet?”

I stared
at the red dangling thing. “I have no idea.”

Byron smiled. “Doesn’t matter.” He looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry, Jane. Sorry I’ve been so stupid with you. You’re the one, Jane. It’s always been you. You still love me, don’t you?”

I frowned and stared into his blue eyes. “Why would you ask me that? I’ve always loved you. I told you. Always have. Always will.”

Byron took a deep breath. “
There’s a situation we need to deal with. Remember that maid’s son who used to follow you around like a shadow? Raven something?”

“Ravenswirth? Alexander
?”

Byron glanced around. “He’s here. He must be
insane or something. He’s obsessed with you. He’s convinced himself that you two are going to end up together.” He laughed. “He actually thinks you’ve chosen him over me like we were in some medieval contest.”

I flinched.

“So…” Byron took my hands and blew into them. “If he finds you, you just need to set him free. Tell him…” He thinks about it. “Tell him you love me. You choose me. Whatever he thinks, it’s not going to happen.”

“
But—”

“I won’t lie. Byron
quickly continued before I could think. “I’ve heard stories about him. His arrests. His temper. Just tell him what I’ve said, and he’ll get the hint and move on. He won’t hurt you.”

I nodded, but I didn’t like the idea of running into him.

A man ran towards us and saw Byron. “The hell are you doing?”

Byron pushed him back. “Just calm down.”

I stepped behind Byron and peered out at the man. “Alexander? Alexander Ravenswirth?”

The man frowned at me and then glared at Byron. “
What have you done to her?”

“Step back
.” Byron motioned to some other men who pulled Alexander away.

“Jane! Don’t listen to him. He’s not what you think.”

“Enough,” Byron said. He turned to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “Just tell him what I said.”

T
ired and confused, I didn’t know if I was dreaming or not. I didn’t know what to do.

Byron nodded at me. “Just tell him what you told me.”

“Alexander…” the name sounded so familiar, but so foreign. “I love…I love Byron.”

Alexander shook his head. “No. You’ve done something to her.”

“Don’t embarrass yourself, man,” Byron said. “Find someone who actually wants to be with you. There are plenty of maids.”

I opened my mouth
, and words spilled. “I choose Byron. I love Byron. I don’t love you.” I didn’t know why that was so painful to say. As if each word hurt worse than the last. Something stabbed at my brain. My muscles ached. I couldn’t stop shaking.

“No,” Alexander said and lunged toward Byron before the other men
pulled him back.

“Such violence,” Byron said glancing at me. “God knows what you would have done to Jane.”

Alexander stared at me. “Jane. Look at me. Listen to my voice. You know me.”

I stared into his eyes. Something so familiar about…

Byron blocked him from me. “Gentlemen, deal with this…”

“Jane! Talk to me. Just talk to me
,” Alexander said.

Byron ushered me away
, but I stopped. “I want to talk with him.”

“Jane, you don’t—”

I put my hand on Byron’s chest. “Please.”

Byron motioned
to his men to let Alexander go.

Alexander rushed around Byron. “Son-of-a-bitch.” He stood in front of me. “Jane, look at me. Remember what you said to me just a few minutes ago?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Everything blurred. My memories overturned and spilled.

He pointed to the hedges. “We were standing right there.
You said you loved me. You told Byron you love me.”

Byron laughed behind me.
“You really are delusional. She’d never choose you over me.”

My
vision blurred. I had to steady myself. I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Jane…” Alexander said. “What’s happening? Talk to me?”

Byron sighed. “Gentlemen, I don’t think our guest here is getting the hint.”

“Jane,” Alexander said. “Remember. Look at me.”

I could barely focus. “I love By… I will always choose Byron.”

Alexander stepped back.

Byron moved closer. “That’s how it’s always going to be, my friend. Jane and I are together, and you will disappear wherever maid’s sons go.”

I could barely stand. I didn’t know what was happening to me. It’s like someone took over my body.

The men grabbed Alexander and took him away. “Jane! Look at your bracelet. Remember the bracelet.”

I looked down, but I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t see anything…

When I came to, I was in my room. Mrs. Kiness held a warm washcloth over my forehead as Byron paced.

“Olivia,” Mrs. Kiness said. “Be a dear and fetch Miss Austen some tea.”

Footsteps scurried down the stairs as things came into focus.

“You just passed out. That is all,” Mrs. Kiness said. “You are going to be fine.”

Byron smiled and sat down on the bed.

I took the washcloth from my head
, sat up and looked down at my dress. I lunged out of bed and raced for the bathroom and puked. Afterwards, I steadied myself against the counter.

“Jane, are you alright?” Mrs. Kiness asked.

“Anything I can do for you?” Byron asked.

I stared
at both of them and slammed the door shut. I had to steady myself. Things were out of whack. Out of order. I grabbed my head. “Stop!”

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

I grabbed the wall. I didn’t want to pass out. Didn’t know where I’d end up. I looked at the bracelet and tried to yank it off my wrist. Things focused. The glass beads with swirling colors of reds, blues and yellows. The stables. The hedge. That kiss. “Alexander.”

“It was my mother’s.”

I jumped and looked around. I was alone.

Everything came back like a cappuccino finally free of all that choking foam. “Alexander. He gave this to me.” My stomach stabbed me. Byron. Johnston in the garden. He grabbed me. Threatened me. He was going to allow Johnston…

I yanked open the bathroom door scaring Mrs. Kiness. “Where is he?”

“Well,
Byron is right here.”

“Where’s the man I’m in love with? Alexander.”

Byron lost most of the coloring in his face.

Mrs. Kiness
smiled then stopped when she glanced at Byron. “I will get him.” She fled out of my room and down the hall.

I turned my attention to Byron.

He stepped back. “Jane, listen to me.”

“Shut up.” I moved towards him. “What did Johnston do to me?”

“I—”

“What did you let Johnston do to me?”

He shook his head. “Jane, I’d never allow him to hurt you.”

“What
did he do?”

He flinched. “Jane, I—”

“Stop using my name every five friggin seconds.”

He put his hands up. “He didn’t hurt you.”

“I have scars.”

“I’d never let him touch you.”

I didn’t believe him. “Why?”

Byron
’s ego deflated. He sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Why!”

“I...” Byron started to speak but shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

I rushed towards my door
.

Byron st
ood up. “You’re all I have.”

I stopped.

“Please, Ja… You’re everything to me. I had to do it. You’re the only one who understands me. The only one who gets me.”

I turned around
. “You call what you did love?”

He stared at the ground. “I couldn’t lose you. Not
to him.”

I sighed.
“It’s never been about me, has it?”

“I knew you’d forget if Johnston threatened you.
A risk, but I’d never let him truly hurt you. You just had to believe he would.”

“What a guy.”

He turned around. “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I know. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. I can fix it.”

“I can’t believe I ever loved you.
How’d you know it would work? What Johnston did?”

He swallowed hard, and I prepared for more bullshit.

“It always does.”

I slip
ped. My head pounded. I grabbed for something as I lost my balance and pulled back from Byron’s reach. “I don’t want to see you again.”

I raced down the side stairs. I had to find
Alexander. Had to make him understand what happened. Would he forgive me?

I rushed towards the connecting door
and heard Mrs. Kiness on the other side.

“Jane.” She jumped when she opened the door and saw me waiting for her. “Alexander is gone. He has taken all his things.”

“No.” I lunged out the side door. “Where would he go?” I stopped when I heard something towards Bitty’s outdoor kitchen. “Alexander?”

I saw someone
open the outdoor cellar, but that hadn’t been used in years. “Karenda?”

She didn’t hear me before slipping inside. Then a man dove in after her and slammed the door shut.

“Was that?” The cellar had been abandoned for decades.

I tiptoed towards the overgrown brush and opened the chipped door. Darkness
loomed at me. Had I imagined seeing Karenda? No, I thought. The cellar door was unlocked. She’s down here.

I slipped on the stairs but kept going. My eyes adjusted, and I saw in the shadows things I didn’t want to see. She reached out to me. I remembered seeing her picture on the news.
The missing girl. I slipped on something. The metallic smell of blood was so strong I gagged. I reached out for the light, but he found it first.

The lone bulb
illuminated the space. Dirt floor. Stone walls. Cold enveloped everything. And he was there. So was she. I wished he hadn’t turned on the light. All the pieces fit.

It all made sense. Whole again,
I turned around to run. I had to get help. I didn’t want to know this. I didn’t want to remember this. Someone grabbed at me. The pain pierced through me. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t help her. I knew why I couldn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember.

I watched them, but I couldn’t move. The pain. I reached out, but it was too late. I rocked back and forth. “Can’t know this. Can’t remember this.” I let myself slip.
I willed the memories away. After a few minutes, I didn’t remember anymore.

...Read the first two chapters of Missing 6. The
thrilling conclusion to
Beautiful Whispers
.

Jane listened for whispers as she crept from the safety of her room and rushed to the stairs. “Is it safe?”

The dreaded floor board burped making her jump. Hardwood floors were notorious tattle tales refusing to shelter a secret. Jane slinked her way down careful that her boots didn’t knock against the bare wood. At the bottom step, Jane glanced at her watch. She lived with her family at Ausmor Plantation - an old northern Virginia plantation named after the Austen and Morgan families who were related by blood and a weird marriage. “The tours will start soon.”

Jane marched to the New Wing’s living room and scanned the massive oak coffee table sandwiched between pink flowered couches. She introduced herself to the bouquet of coral roses Mrs. Kiness, the head housekeeper, regularly placed in each room and paused as their sweetened aroma seduced her. She glanced at the crystal bowls overflowing with ripe green apples and oranges.

Footsteps reverberated above her. “Not yet. I need more time.”

Jane sped up the pace as she flung open each cupboard searching past extra pillows, blankets, notepads, batteries and flashlights. Only one cupboard remained. Jane whispered a prayer. She quickly yanked open the doors: two hazelnut and milk chocolate bars lingered. She grabbed them and meticulously unwrapped the blue tinfoil with the precision of a world class heart surgeon.

A thud above Jane’s head rattled the ceiling fan as if jarred by an earthquake. Jane didn’t notice. At a small side table jammed against the wall, the scent of hot peppermint tea lured her, and she studied the collection of mismatched tea cups Mrs. Kiness had randomly collected over the years. While her sister and cousins usually grabbed the closest cup, Jane’s decision influenced the rest of her day. A plain, utilitarian cup missing a saucer induced a drab day. Jane smiled as she poured the steaming tea into a gold trimmed white cup punctuated with bright red roses.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

More footsteps pounded above her, and Jane prepared for the worst. Careful with the abnormally teeny teacup handle, Jane quickly alternated the bar and sip as the heat melted the chocolate into a sugary energy jolt. She reveled in the last few moments before chaos swirled. Even as a child, Jane collected calm.

As footsteps machine gunned down the stairs, the calm evaporated like the delicate foam on a cappuccino. Jane hastily shoved the rest of the chocolate in her pocket as she waited to be interrupted. Jane was generous, but she never shared chocolate. Only the family and Mrs. Kiness lived in the two story New Wing, but some tourists disregarded the ‘private’ signs leading from the original house and wandered around like elephants at a new watering hole. Jane suggested glue traps, but that produced gasps and clutching of hearts as if she demanded an asthmatic sniper or indiscriminate poisonings.

Lillia Morgan, Jane’s younger eighteen year old cousin, skipped into the living room dressed in her usual retina protesting yellow from hat tip to shoe bottom. Her antebellum dresses and oversized, spiky blond Shirley Temple on acid curls helped the tourists obsessed with the Civil War era. The only vision of Lillia that didn’t scream Antebellum: her thick black felt tip eyeliner.

“Jane!”

“Hey, Lillia.” Jane greeted with zero enthusiasm. “Eye gouging dress.”

Lillia waited for Jane to correct herself. She didn’t. “Cool nails!”

Jane held out her hand. The light caught the bright blue polish: a favorite of some but an irritation to most.

“And your hair’s finally growing back.”

The frizzies had unionized Jane’s hair, and she waited patiently for their demands. Jane’s hair was wild and unsupervised - everything she wished she could be.

“Can’t really see your scar when that one curl is all done up.” Lillia picked up an orange and scrunched her nose to the sweetness. She curled her face into what looked like a squished child’s squeaky toy. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

Jane peered around the large room and listened for any noises upstairs. “A tourist? The Bitty? What?”

“More Jane, please.”

Jane sighed. Even though the family name was Austen, Jane’s mother wanted to name her daughter after the middle name of her favorite aunt. Jane loved her name so much she digested everything the writer wrote, including the unfinished works and letters, at least twelve times. The family capitalized on the name as tourists
flocked to ‘meet’ Jane Austen. ‘Talk like her. Dress like her. The real Jane could have visited Ausmor and written letters back to her sister, Cassandra.’ Jane complied.

Lillia flashed Jane her normal open mouthed, closed eye expression as if she were a sea lion demanding a treat for the newest trick performed successfully.

Jane had a reputation as a Jane Austenaholic, and people expected her to Jane it up twenty-four seven. “I am but fine myself, but I have to admit that I am fine on most mornings of this nature, do you not agree?”

Lillia clapped and giggled like a crazed monkey toy banging the annoying cymbals. Jane liked it better when Lillia had ‘lapsed into a most congenial unconscious state of Lillia.’

Footsteps down the hall vibrated closer. Jane motioned for Lillia to be quiet as they slid along the hallway to snoop.

Lillia smothered a giggle. “We’re doing that Eva straw ping?”

“Eavesdropping.” Jane hoped the real Jane approved. The footsteps stalled as Mrs. Kiness murmured.

Lillia giggled again, but Jane silenced her with a strangulation gesture.

“Everything looks the same,” the man said.

Jane frowned. His voice was so familiar.

“How’s she been?” the man asked.

Lillia pointed to Jane to tell her what she already knew: they were talking about her.

“Pay no heed to the rumors,” Mrs. Kiness said. “There have been several incidents concerning Jane. Many have complained.”

“Many have complained?” Jane asked. “Was there a town meeting?”

“Shush.” Lillia made her own exaggerated strangulation gesture.

“Why do I keep coming back here?” the man asked.

Jane waited for an answer. When she didn’t hear anything, she assumed Mrs. Kiness must have rolled her eyes or shrugged. Jane hoped Mrs. Kiness used the shrug. Her eye rolls were ominous.

Mrs. Kiness’ rosy cheeks and gray bunned hair turned the corner first.

“How are you this morning, Mrs. Kiness?” Lillia twirled in between questions. “We were just thinking. Jane and I. Jane and I were thinking. At least I think we were thinking. When are the tours starting? We’re having tours today, aren’t we?”

Jane wondered if Lillia needed medication for her rabidity.

“Miss Austen. Miss Morgan.” Mrs. Kiness folded her hands behind her barely brown skirt and morphed from head housekeeper to confession chasing detective. She x-rayed Jane’s jeans and recognized the offending chocolate bar lodged in Jane’s pocket.

Jane stole a deep breath and attempted aloof, but, unsure of aloof’s requirements, she smoothed her hair back behind her ears and hoped it didn’t look like she used a bent spoon as a comb. She glanced down at her black sweater, shifted her boots and hoped her eyeliner hadn’t aggressively raccooned her.

“How many?” Mrs. Kiness asked. “How many candy bars, dear? And answer without cheek.”

“One.” Jane cringed. Her shaky voice betrayed the lie. “Four.”

“Four! Just this morning?” Mrs. Kiness groaned. “Do you not believe that to be rather excessive?”

“I need to eat more chocolate,” Lillia said. “Or cheese. One or the other. Or both. Or maybe fish.”

Mrs. Kiness stiffly held out her hand as if she were taking tickets at the movies. Jane and Lillia stared at it. “Hand it over please.”

“I had to get more. I gave my last share to Lillia.”

“That’s true.” Lillia nodded. “Yesterday was an ass of a day.”

Jane wanted to persuade Mrs. Kiness that she would eat one useless bit of scrambled egg for every
three bites of chocolate. Jane regurgitated how chocolate supplied enough nutrition and vitamins to sustain life, but Mrs. Kiness needed more scientific proof. “But it was a hidden object chocolate mystery, and I found them without hints. She used the blue wrapper!”

“Oh!” Lillia looked at Mrs. Kiness as if that should make the difference. “Those are the best. Hazelnut.”

“You two do not amuse.” Mrs. Kiness’ slight British accent, long hidden from decades of living in Virginia, emerged. Her hand remained outstretched waiting for the chocolate. She thought she could wear Jane down by narrowing her eyes like a predator. Silly thing; she underestimated Jane’s commitment.

The man Mrs. Kiness had been talking to turned the corner. Jane caught her breath. “Alexander?”