Ghosts of the Past

Johnson Laura

Description

Caroline Kingfisher has questions. Questions she's been asking all her life which everyone so far has failed to answer. Now of age, and after her parents' deaths, she sets out on a journey like no other to her old family home to find the answers that have been hidden from her for so long. The more she delves into the past, with only a diary found by chance to guide her, Caroline starts to wonder if some things are better left undiscovered.Travis Montgomery has a secret. He knows something he should never have found out and it's slowly eating away at him. He can't confess to his mother, or his brother, and struggles daily with his internal battle. When he spies a new owner arriving at the abandoned mansion house, potentially dangerous events start unfolding that he can't help but feel somewhat responsible for.As the plot thickens and the dangers increase, will Caroline get the answers she's so desperate to find? And by helping her, will Travis finally free himself from the guilt he's been feeling since his childhood?

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 31 juillet 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528987509
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Ghosts of the Past
Laura Johnson
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-07-31
Ghosts of the Past About the Author Copyright Information © Prologue Winter 1816, Little Hampton Manor Chapter 1 1841 Little Hampton Village Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Epilogue Summer 1846
About the Author
Laura lives in Lancashire with her two cats. As a child, she never enjoyed reading but could just about stomach Roald Dahl. Her passion for fiction grew during her teens, focusing on easy reading, horror stories and after finding a couple more brilliant authors in her twenties, she now can’t put a good book down. Her inspiration for writing has been sparked purely because of past readings. She starts typing and soon, an idea is turned into a story. She’s never sure how it will all end until she can’t think of anything else to type, then she knows it’s finished.
Copyright Information ©
Laura Johnson (2020)
The right of Laura Johnson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528987493 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528987509 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
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Canary Wharf
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E14 5LQ
Prologue

Winter 1816, Little Hampton Manor
Douglas Kingfisher looked on in despair, his arms wrapped protectively around his wife, as he stood motionless staring at his beloved mansion. All around him people rushed about shouting instructions, throwing water, double-checking that everyone was out of the house. The horses had managed to get loose and were trotting here and there whinnying, creating more panic as they themselves were startled by the evening’s events.
It was a freezing winter night and yet no one was cold. If anything they were too hot. The fire blazing through the west side of their home was warming the air quite thoroughly. “Sir! My Lord! I fear we cannot control this!” his faithful butler, Perkins, came rushing over to him but he barely heard. “My Lord! We must call for help!” Perkins tried again.
“Darling, where’s Sam?” another voice asked, quietly quivering with emotion as it scanned the people rushing around outside.
Those three words spoken almost as a whisper jerked Douglas out of his stupor.
“My God! Sam! Find him at once!” he barked at Perkins, gently dislodging himself from his wife. He set off to enter the house.
“My Lord, no!” Perkins called, sprinting after his master.
He caught up with him, grabbing him to stop him entering the house.
“Get off me, goddammit man! What the hell is this?” Douglas demanded harshly.
But Perkins wouldn’t let go. Despite many orders and struggling, Perkins held him fast. Even when Douglas landed a punch to his face. They struggled for a couple of minutes before Douglas calmed down enough to register his butler’s face now swelling slightly just under his right eye. Perkins had worked for the Kingfishers for so long now that Douglas knew him very well. He didn’t need to say anything. Realisation filtered through, and Douglas could read his meaning well enough.
Sam had been in the west wing.
Two people emerged from the main door coughing heavily, carrying something quite long and thin wrapped in cloth between them. They couldn’t make eye contact with Douglas as they passed him and Perkins and set it down gently on the driveway. A scream suddenly cut through the heat, smoke, panic and confusion of the night. Douglas turned numbly and looked down. He couldn’t see what was in the cloth, but he still recognised what it was. In a daze, he returned to his wife as she fell to her knees.
Perkins stood to one side, silently dealing with his own grief for he too had known and loved Sam for the last 12 years.
“It’s my fault,” Douglas mumbled.
“No, my lord, how can you say that?” Perkins condoled dutifully.
“All my fault, I caused this,” Douglas repeated, more to himself than anyone else, while he looked first at the bundle that used to be his son, then at the house that was still blazing through the night.
“Dammit, man, can’t you get anything right?” an angry voice demanded harshly.
“You wanted the job done. It’s done,” came the reply.
“It’s not done though, you idiot. I said to shoot the bastard not set the bloody house on fire!” the first voice insisted.
“If you had balls, you would’ve done the job yourself,” the second voice said in a dangerously quiet manner.
“Forget it. What’s done is done. You never know, it might still work out. Provided they don’t have any more kids,” the first voice started calming down a little despite the insult.
“So what? We just wait? Fuck that!” the second voice asked.
“We’ll have to now, you’ve given us no choice, dickhead. We can’t risk another attempt or they’ll get suspicious. One thing is an accident, more than that starts to look like it isn’t,” the first voice concluded.
“Great, so how long is that going to take?” the second voice asked grumpily.
The question was left unanswered as the two men pondered what they’d set in motion. It hadn’t gone according to how they’d planned it, and now it could mean it was over before it began.
Chapter 1

1841 Little Hampton Village
Caroline Kingfisher stretched herself out as the carriage gently bumped along the road. It had been a long journey. Three weeks’ travelling; no less. But looking out of the window, she could see it was finally coming to an end.
She was a little anxious having finally made the journey. Ever since she’d found a diary her mother had written years earlier, which had only hinted at some terrible disaster with the family, she’d almost become obsessed with finding out what had happened. Her parents refused to speak of it despite how many times she’d asked. Even when they’d both been on their deathbeds they still hadn’t told her.
After spending time in mourning for her parents and now 21, Caroline had decided she would visit this house their family used to live in. It was hers now; after all, her parents’ wills had determined as much. She had so many unanswered questions that she needed to at least see the place where it had all started, to try and make sense of it and maybe piece together what had happened.
To pass more time while they continued up the road, Caroline flicked through the diary her mother had written. It was full of the year 1816, but Caroline flicked through most of it and read a page towards the back that was a week before that fateful evening:
8 November 1816
What a night we’ve had! We celebrated in style our darling boy’s twelfth birthday and spared no expense! He’s such a miracle I can’t begin to explain. It was a true joy having our friends and family all under our roof. We ate, we sang, we danced, we drank. It was perfect.
Douglas thought he’d seen someone lurking in the bushes outside but considering how much he had drunk it may well have just been his reflection in the window!
I can’t believe one could be this happy. We are truly blessed.
Why this child had been such a miracle was Caroline’s first question. She also re-read the Douglas line, as she called it which only served to raise even more questions. Had there really been someone there? Or was it as her mother had suggested and he’d only seen his own reflection? Or maybe it had been just a trick of the light? Somehow Caroline doubted that. There was more to this story than what was written here, and she was determined to discover the truth.
“Travis, you’ll change your mind once you get there, I promise you. Sophie will be there,” a friendly voice came eagerly through the door.
Travis sighed. “I shouldn’t really, I have a business to attend to here. We’ve only recently got back, and estate matters can’t wait,” he tried to reason with his brother as he opened the door to him.
“Estate matters. Really? That’s the best you can come up with?” Phillip raised a sceptical eyebrow at his elder sibling.
Both of them knew very well that estate matters were dealt with by a hired manager. Travis had agreed that he would bring a report to him each month, outlining everything. Matters requiring immediate attention could be brought to him separately.
“I know why you want to go back, and it’s nothing to do with ‘checking on our neighbours’ as you put it,” Travis accused.
“OK fine, I’ve heard there’s a new beauty in town, and I want to check her out. Is that a crime?” Phillip confessed, raising his arms in submission.
“What amazes me is society calls me the rake and yet have they seen you?” Travis remarked.
“Come now, Travis, you know I’ll forever be indebted—” Phillip stammered, the gusto leaving him almost immediately.
“Calm down, I’m not going to out you. But honestly, when are you going to stop letting your dick lead your life? I have a meeting tomorrow