Joanna Wayne - Behind The Veil

Who was afraid now that the time had come?

She was. That’s who.

FROM A DISTANCE, the Bluffs was impressive and imposing. Up close and personal it was downright formidable. The stone was dark gray, scarred by centuries of gale-force winds, driving rains and the burning heat of summer. The curves and angles of the structure stretched out in all directions, large enough to house a small army, with turrets and parapets along the roof line and hideous gargoyles and ferocious creatures from some imaginary animal kingdom posed as silent, ominous guards over it all.

“Don’t let the size intimidate you,” Richard offered as they stepped to the massive wooden door. “It’s basically just a house.”

Yeah, and the Taj Mahal was just a tomb. Anxiety and anticipation warred inside her as Richard fitted a large metal key into the lock and turned it. This would be her first look inside the edifice that had fascinated her from her first glimpse of it. Her first step inside the bastion of a man half the town thought was a blood-sucking vampire and the other half believed was a murderer.

Her heart hammered against her chest as the heavy door creaked open. Claire’s warning crept into her mind, but she pushed it aside. If she’d been afraid to face the new and unfamiliar, she’d have died years ago.

“This is it,” Richard said as he followed her inside. “Welcome to the home of Dr. David Bryson.”

“Wow.” Juvenile comment, but she was lucky to have gotten that out. “It’s so…I mean, it’s awesome.” She turned, her gaze jumping from the magnificent ceilings to the Victorian chandeliers, from the beautiful but worn Persian rugs to the exquisite antique furnishings. Dark, dreary colors, and yet the sheer grandeur was enough to take her breath away. She walked over and stopped in front of the massive marble fireplace. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I didn’t even know places like this existed outside of fairy tales.”

“I know exactly how you feel. I felt that way myself the first time I came here to interview for the position of Dr. Bryson’s butler.”

She doubted that. Richard Crawford had been nice and friendly enough on the drive up to the Bluffs, but he was far too sophisticated for her to ever imagine him all but drooling over a house the way she was. She needed to get a grip, make herself sound more professional. “The house and furnishings are quite resplendent, but I must agree with the doctor’s assessment that the place needs updating.” Resplendent? She sounded more like some society snob than a professional. “New window treatments and more colorful coverings for the furniture would make the place much brighter and more livable,” she added, trying to salvage a shred of credibility out of the conversation.

“I agree wholeheartedly. I’ve mentioned it many times over the last few years, but David, Dr. Bryson that is, never seemed interested until now.”

“And are you and Dr. Bryson the only ones who live here?”

“It’s just the two of us, though there are others who work here during the day. There’s a cook and a small staff of gardeners and housekeepers. None of them are here today, though. Saturdays and Sundays are typically the days off for all the staff.”

“When is your day off?”

“Whenever I need one. Are you ready for me to show you around?”

So David was planning to keep the promise he made last night, stay out of sight and leave her in the hands of Richard. She should be thankful. She wasn’t. Now that she’d seen where he lived, she was even more intrigued by him. Besides, unless she talked to him face-to-face, dealt with him as a real flesh-and-blood person, she might never banish him from her thoughts and fantasies or stop hearing his mesmerizing voice echo in her mind. “I would prefer to do the walk-through with the owner.”

“I’m sorry, but he gave specific instructions that I was to deal with you myself. Of course, I’ll take all your ideas to him and he will be the one to make any final decisions on what is to be changed.”

“Then we may as well get started. Since only two of you live here and it doesn’t appear that your employer does much entertaining, you can’t possibly use all the rooms.”

“No, there’re over seventy of them, not counting the lab in the west wing.”

Seventy rooms. It baffled the mind, but she had no trouble believing that it was true. She surveyed the room they were in. New drapes were definitely needed. The ones hanging were streaked and faded and so thick they blocked every trace of sunlight from the room. The chairs should be recovered, too, in something soft and welcoming. And the room needed lamps, low wattage, to throw halos of light where it was needed.

And that was in just one room. If she took this job, it would take her months to even begin to make a showing, especially if she had to fit it in between her regular sewing jobs.

“Could I get you something to drink before we get started?” Richard asked.

“No, and to tell you the truth, Mr. Crawford, I’m not at all sure I can handle this job.”

“I’m sure Dr. Bryson didn’t contact you about this without checking into your credentials first.”

“My credentials are that I design and sew dresses for local ladies who want something a little different from what they can buy off the rack in a department store. I’m good at that, and I work at reasonable rates. Now, if there’s any way David Bryson can stretch that into proper qualifications for this job, I certainly don’t see it.”

She walked to the cluster of windows that covered the entire back wall and tugged the heavy drape to the side. The breath rushed from her lungs as she took in the view. This room overlooked the cliff, looked down on the swirling blue water that splashed against the jagged rocks of Raven’s Cove.

She spotted a man kneeling on the edge of the cliff, a beautiful bouquet of pure white roses in his hand. He scattered them over the rocks and then stood, staring at the water far below. It wasn’t until he turned back toward the house that she recognized him. Her breath caught unexpectedly.

“I see your boss now. Why is he laying roses out to dry?”

“He’s not. He lost his fiancée to those waters below us. The roses are his way of honoring her memory.”

“But that was years ago.”

“It’s a tradition he’s kept up over the years.”

“You know, Richard, since he’s the one who’ll be paying me if I take this job, I think I’ll just go and discuss the redecorating project with him.”

“That is not a good idea.”

“Why not? He’s obviously not working.”

“His wishes are that you deal with me.”

“I don’t work that way.”

He motioned to his left. “There’s a back exit just down that hall, but I’m warning you that Dr. Bryson will not be happy to see you.”

Fine. She hadn’t been that happy to see him in the shadows last night, either, but he’d looked her up all the same. Credentials be hanged. She had none and she was beginning to agree with Claire. Whatever David Bryson wanted from her, it probably had nothing to do with redecorating his house. There was no time like the present to find out for certain.

She started down the hall.

Richard followed her. “You’re making a mistake.”

“It won’t be my first and hopefully not my last.” Strange, but she could have sworn Richard was smiling when she caught that last glimpse of him as she headed out the door for a meeting with Moriah Landing’s most infamous mad scientist.

Mad, maybe. But a man who strew flowers in honor of a fiancée who’d been dead for five years couldn’t be all bad. At least she hoped that was true, because he’d spotted her coming toward him now and he’d ducked into a small stone structure that sat precipitously close to the edge of the cliff. And she was about to join him.