Charmed. Leona Karr
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he responded, shaking his head. “I use the guest cottage when I fly in from New York for a conference with Clayton and Jonathan.” He lowered his voice. “Frankly, it’s a break from the office routine, and I like to do a little deep-sea fishing when the weather’s good. They loan me one of the cars to get around the island and I was just about to drive down to the wharf. But I’m in no hurry. Come on, I’ll show you the way to the family room.”
Ashley tried to keep her bearings but she became lost as they passed through connecting doors, adjoining rooms and down a series of short halls. When they finally descended down some wide steps and entered a high-ceilinged room with large windows, she was surprised to find herself in a pleasant sitting room that opened onto a terrace.
In contrast to the rest of the house, the room was light, and airy, and she could see why the two men and Ellen had gathered there instead of in last night’s formal drawing room.
Fontaine broke the news to them before Ashley had a chance. “They found her. Alive!”
Ellen cried, “Oh, dear Lord!”
Old man Langdon leaned forward in his chair. “What…what?”
Jonathan strode across the room and searched Ashley’s face as if he were afraid to believe Fontaine. “Where?”
Ashley took a deep breath and sat down in the closest chair. As unemotionally as she could, she told them about the rescue. “Lorrie was knocked out from a blow to the head. She’s weak from being out in the wet and cold, but she’s regained consciousness and the doctor says she’s going to recover.”
“That’s wonderful,” Ellen bubbled.
“Did she say who was responsible?” Fontaine asked.
Ashley decided not to mention Sloane. Brad had made it clear there had to be some evidence of the man’s guilt before an arrest could be made.
“Lorrie doesn’t know,” she responded truthfully. “Apparently, she was stuck from behind and never saw her assailant.”
“Maybe she’ll remember more when she gets better,” Ellen offered.
Clayton Langdon made a wheezing sound. His color was a pasty gray as he put his bony hand on his chest and sucked in air.
Ellen was on her feet immediately and rushed over to his chair. “Oh, dear, too much excitement.”
The old man quivered like a strangled bird struggling for air and seemed to hover on the edge of unconsciousness.
“Jonathan, call Dr. Hadley,” Ellen ordered. “Your father’s having another attack.” She summoned Mrs. Mertz and sent her after his medications.
The drama was too much for Ashley. While everyone clustered around Clayton, she followed the housekeeper out of the room.
“Where do I find my sister’s room and her workroom?”
“They’re across the hall from your room.”
“And where is that?” Ashley asked in exasperation.
“Take the stairs,” Mrs. Mertz replied briskly over her shoulder and disappeared down a hall.
“Great,” Ashley muttered as she climbed narrow, steep stairs that ended at a closed door. Only feeble light illuminated the passage.
The door creaked as she opened it, and she gingerly stepped out into an unfamiliar corridor. As she looked up and down, closed doors along the way gave no hint of what might lie behind them. The faint echo of the ocean’s surf reached her ears, and she headed in that direction. When she came to descending stairs that resembled the ones she’d taken that morning, she knew where she was.
Ashley decided she’d better get a handle on the inventory as quickly as possible. When she reached her room, she turned to the door directly opposite hers and gingerly opened it. Peering in, Ashley felt a rush of warmth.
Lorrie’s usual clutter was spread out all over the bedroom. A lovely sight. Ashley smiled. Never again would she chide her sister about her messy habits.
She found two empty suitcases and began to pack up her sister’s belongings. She’d take them to the hospital tomorrow, so they’d be there when Lorrie was ready to leave.
After she’d finished packing, she looked around the room to see if she’d missed anything and noticed a door on the inside wall next to the closet. It opened to an adjoining room. Judging from the casual furniture and curtained windows overlooking the water, she suspected it had been a sitting room at one time with a second door that opened out into another hall. She’d found Lorrie’s workroom. No doubt about it. Vintage apparel and accessories were everywhere. A variety of garments hung on racks, others were sorted in piles and some still lay in opened old trunks. The assortment was mind-boggling.
The collection included beautiful Edwardian gowns of satin, lace and taffeta. In addition to a myriad of day dresses fashioned by famous designers, there were flounced petticoats with ribbons and edging, and shawls that reached the floor with silken fringes.
On a worktable, Lorrie’s meticulous cataloging was evident in her lists of items and a file of accompanying photos she’d taken. Various accessories, such as purses, scarves, silk flowers, and ornate jewelry, seemed to be packed and ready for transport.
Everything in the room possessed a kind of mystique that totally charmed Ashley. She felt strangely drawn to the women who had owned these beautiful things. Sensuous silken fabrics and lingering scents seemed familiar to her, as if in another lifetime she might have worn the satin gowns and ornate necklaces that had circled their necks. The impression was fleeting, but uneasiness remained. As she looked around the room, she sensed an undefined warning.
Satisfied that she could continue where Lorrie had left off, Ashley returned to her bedroom and was surprised to find a housemaid just finishing making up the large canopy bed.
A quick-moving, blondish young woman had straightened up the bathroom and had hung Ashley’s few clothes in the wardrobe. She’d even laid out her makeup and brush set in an orderly manner on the vanity.
Ashley quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I left in a hurry this morning. I don’t want to trouble you every day to make the bed and—”
“No trouble. I’m Clara.” She had a pleasant smile, and Ashley judged her to be in her early thirties.
“I’m glad to meet you, Clara. And thank you.”
“I’ve always liked doing this room. It’s nice to have somebody in it. I used to set it right every day.” Her tone grew pensive. “Don’t know why they’ve left it all shut up for so long. I’m surprised Mrs. Mertz decided to put you here.”
“It’s a spacious room,” Ashley commented and wondered what there was about it that lacked warmth.
“Pamela liked it.”
“Pamela?”
“Mr. Jonathan’s daughter. You should have seen the room then. She had all kinds of bright pictures on the walls and knickknacks everywhere. She had everything any young woman and bride-to-be could want when she had this room.” Her voice faltered. “She died…two years ago now.”
“Yes, I heard about the tragedy.” She remembered Brad had said the young woman had died of a drug overdose.
“I’d been her maid since I came to the house. She was always so full of life. I couldn’t believe it. Only twenty-three years old. Her wedding dress was hanging in the closet. I’d pressed it the day before. I know she never meant to kill herself, even though she and her fiancé had a big fight. He stormed off and Pamela shut herself up in this room…” Clara’s voice petered out.
“What a tragedy,” Ashley murmured gently.
The maid reached out and smoothed a coverlet on the bed. “I found her…right here…in this bed. All cold and lifeless.” Her voice thickened as she turned