Authors: Jane Jordan
The realization hit me, he knew this house, he knew where things were kept better than me and he was suddenly aware something had alarmed me.
“Madeline, what is wrong?” he asked with faint concern. He moved towards me and I took a step back. I tried to keep the accusation out of my voice, but I spoke directly.
“Darius, how did you know where that vase was? How did you know the exact cupboard to look in?” The silence between us was deafening.
“I used to come here as a child. Nothing’s changed, everything is as it once was,” he said simply.
“So you knew the family?” I felt comforted, nothing sinister after all.
“Yes,” he said, handing me the vase. “It was a long time ago, but being in this house again . . .” he paused briefly. “I remember it like no time has passed,” he concluded reflectively.
I put the flowers in water and offered him a glass of wine. To my amazement he
accepted
, and I wondered, could ghosts drink. Taking the wine he walked to the doorway.
“Would you mind if I looked in the library? It used to be my favourite room,” he added casually.
“Of course, go though,” I replied agreeably, “I will just finish here and join you.”
I finished with my arrangement picked up my wine glass and walked through to the library. I was surprised to find Darius sitting at the desk reading a page of my manuscript. I regretted not putting it away before he arrived.
“Please, don’t read that, it’s really rough,” I said, feeling embarrassed. But Darius ignored my objection and continued reading.
“You write with great sentient. A quality most people do not possess. There is an
intensity
and understanding in your words. This is the book you told me about?” he indicated to the manuscript in front of him.
“Yes it is, or it will be,” I said. “I have only just started and still have a long way to go.”
“You never told me about the content of the book,” Darius remarked, as he looked up, and I felt extremely self conscious as his piercing green gaze followed me across the room.
“Well,” I said walking closer to him, “my heroine will discover that she has connections back to royal lineage. She uncovers a murderous past that calls into question the birthright of monarchs that are on the throne today. She will discover her own ancestry remains linked in more ways than she knows with her present.”
“I would like to read this book when it is complete,” Darius said, putting the manuscript down.
“You will have my very first copy,” I said demurely.
“Your heroine, is she based on you?” I shook my head.
“At first she was, but now, I find I can have more creative license with her if she is entirely fictitious. that is why I needed to come to a remote place like this, to create and to be inspired without any distractions of modern or city life.”
“Am I a distraction?” he asked curiously without taking his eyes from mine. Again the air was filled with that intense magnetism, an underlying current of electricity that seemed to resonate between us. My skin had become suddenly warm and it was with great effort that my voice remained even in tone.
“Yes you are, but a good one I hope.” I felt even more self conscious of the words I had just spoken. My face felt as if it was burning as Darius’s eyes gazed hypnotically into mine. I searched for a distraction and raised my wine glass.
“To my book and to actually finishing it.” I smiled at him. He too raised his glass.
“To you and your book,” he said, watching me closely. I took a large gulp of wine and promptly started choking. Darius was at my side in an instant.
“I’m fine,” I said half spluttering, “really I am.” I composed myself quickly and laughed nervously. “Maybe it’s an omen, I may choke to death before I ever finish my book.”
“Don’t joke about such things,” he remarked, and seemed genuinely concerned. I
was
touched by the sincerity in his voice.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured him, “I really am fine.” I turned and indicated back through the doorway. “Shall we go through to the living room?” Taking our wine glasses, we sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. I was certain that being in such close proximity to him, he would be able to hear my heart racing. He reached out and surprised me by taking my hand in his. A mixture of feelings swept through me, especially as his hand was warm tonight and I was happily aware of the thought racing through my mind.
He isn’t deathly cold tonight, real warm blood flows through his veins just like mine. He is alive, he is real!
My earlier inhibitions melted as his other hand stroked the bare skin on my arm. It was the merest of caresses, but it set me on fire. With the briefest of looks, a few words and the lightest touch, Darius had broken through any barriers I might have built, and any previous thoughts of caution I had, disappeared in that instant.
“You are very beautiful,” he said seductively and I found myself lost in his vivid green gaze. I was happily succumbing to whatever magic he was weaving around me.
“I have dreamed of this moment,” he continued in earnest. “In all these years I have never met anyone like you, but it is a twisted fate that has brought you to me now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not understanding the meaning in his words. He sighed, leant back and gazed up at the ceiling.
“Madeline there is so much that you don’t know about me,” he said a little sadly, and I thought to myself that it couldn’t be any worse than all my imaginings put together, but his sudden solemn demeanour worried me.
“Darius, whatever it is you can tell me when you’re ready. I only need to know you are here with me now and are not going to suddenly disappear.” Darius raised his head and turned to me with a puzzled look. I noticed for the first time vulnerability in his eyes, a look that that I had not seen before, as if a barrier had come down for him.
“I am not going anywhere,” he assured me.
“Although . . . I have been wondering what it is you do and where you go,” I said and saw the openness disappear, a barrier was back. “You know it doesn’t’t matter. You don’t have to tell me.” I wished I had not said anything. It must seem that one minute I was telling him he didn’t have to tell me anything, and the next, interrogating him about his life. Darius was quiet for a few moments.
“You are curious, that is understandable. I live close by, but I also spend time and have a house in the city.” He paused briefly, “as for what I do. . . . I am a historian for a museum.”
There was hesitation in the way he said those words, as though he had never spoken them out loud before. I watched him, fascinated. I had known he would do something intriguing, I could not somehow have pictured him doing anything else.
“Do you specialize in any particular subject? I am not entirely sure what a historian does,” I said, hoping I didn’t’t sound too ignorant. Seeing my interest he continued.
“I search for interesting objects to add to various collections and when an artefact is retrieved or purchased, I make sure all the information on that object is factually and historically correct.”
“That sounds really interesting,” I said, placing my wine glass on the table.
“It has its moments,” he continued, “but most of the time it is tedious and repetitive research. Searching endlessly through old libraries and archives. I can spend weeks and months tracking down cultural treasures and the documents that belong to them.”
“But surely it’s fascinating to discover artefacts that the majority of people don’t even know exist. Isn’t’t it?” I questioned.
“Yes it is,” he said agreeably. “So few people even take the time to learn about ancient cultures or objects of art, let alone become interested in them. I have spent endless hours in old libraries and have acquired rare book collections. Books can tell us so much about the past.”
I listened to his words and his sentiment, which was so much like my own. I felt that this was the moment in my life I had waited for. To have met someone who cared about the things I did. Someone who shared a fascination with ancient history and cultures. I loved old houses and museums, but Charlie had never wanted to visit those places, so I had often gone alone. I nodded in agreement.
“I know, but the real tragedy of our world today is people lack the ability to research things properly. I love old and rare books. The feeling that you are holding some old forgotten treasure of literature. Modern computers cannot compete with that, and people seem to be losing the ability to even pick up a book let alone buy one.” Darius was staring at me as if what I had said fascinated or amused him. Seeing his look I paused.
“Sorry,” I said hoping I was not rambling. “But it is tragic that everyone expects to be able to press a few buttons and the answers magically come to them. I truly think reading and researching is becoming a lost art form.” Darius was smiling at me now.
“You are right of course, but one thing I do know is that you cannot stop progress. You have to move with it or get left behind. It is inevitable though, that some of us long for a simpler way of life. People are preoccupied with how much they can cram into their lives these days, that in fact, they hasten the approach to their own demise,” he said wistfully. “But some people still get it right; they still appreciate the true art forms and even today in this modern world, a pace of life can be found to suit your own liking, especially here.” His eyes held mine captive for a few seconds.
“I know,” I said in total agreement with him. “It’s so relaxing and tranquil, almost like a different world.” Darius nodded in accord. I thought for a moment. “You know the books in this house are very old and some of them very rare. You are welcome to look through them, if you need to do some research closer to home,” I said.
“I would like to do that,” he remarked smiling. I thought then that he had a beautiful smile, his whole face seemed to radiate attractiveness, it wasn’t a full smile for just a hint of what could only be perfect white teeth were visible. But when I looked at Darius I could often see nothing other than his alluring eyes enticing me further and I could lose myself in those eyes and virtually forget how sensual his lips were.
“Of course you probably know London has some great libraries,” I said, trying to keep my focus on the current conversation. “I have often spent entire afternoons absorbed in old books, especially when the weather is bad.”
“Do you miss being in London?” I considered for a moment.
“No I don’t, it’s so different down here. This feels how life is supposed to be, not fighting your way through traffic, or jostling for space on the underground. This is much better. Although, it will probably take me a little while to get used to living in such an old house, especially one that may have
other
occupants.”
“Are you frightened to be alone in this house?” Darius asked suddenly. I was taken aback by his sudden directness, and paused a moment, thinking about the question.
“No I am not, although,” I hesitated again, “You know that I don’t think I am entirely alone. Does that sound paranoid?”
“Not at all, I think you are courageous to stay alone in this ancient house,” he replied earnestly.
“What do you know of this house, Darius? Being a historian, you must have done some research. Will you tell me?” Darius leant back and closed his eyes.
“It all happened so long ago,” he said quietly.
“But I am living here now, don’t you think I should be aware of what has happened here?” I reasoned. I saw him smile at my words.
“You are very persuasive,” he said at last. “I will tell you, but I must begin at the very beginning and it could take a while,” he said opening his eyes and looking at me.