Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 2

  Reginald looked at Miranda and wanted to take her in his arms. Instead he unleashed more horror in her direction. He told himself she would be fine and better for having survived this ordeal. He had tried to broach the subject with her before and was scoffed away. This time he would make sure his point stuck.

  “It was highly unusual for persons of their station to be so consumed – especially two entire families. The manor went unattended and unoccupied for a number of years. The military unsuccessfully tried to use it as a residence to store munitions, but that ceased rather abruptly. The soldiers refused to sleep here. They insisted the place was haunted.”

  “And I suppose you’re going to tell me that these were all American soldiers?” Miranda teased, hoping to end this conversation. Miranda sometimes used humor to break the mood and get what she wanted. Yes, she could be as brash as anyone, but humor sometimes worked like a charm. It wouldn’t this time. Reginald saw through her defense mechanism and landed a counterpunch.

  “You can make light of it all you like, young lady, but I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Then why did you allow my father to buy the place if it’s all that evil, eh?” Miranda asked fully convinced she had trapped the old windbag in a lie. She knew that he and her father had the utmost respect for one another and was sure Reginald would never have done anything to erode that confidence.

  “Allow? Did you ever try to stop your father from doing anything? He was as stubborn as you are! He acted as though he were a bloody American! When I think about the way he would dig in his heels and refuse to listen to logic.”

  “You know perfectly well he was American, you old coot!” Miranda fired back. Still, she knew part of what Reginald said was true. Her father was impossible to talk into – or out of – anything. Once he had his mind made up, he went at the task with the full force of a freight train running down the tracks with brakes that didn’t work.

  “Old coot? You impudent little upstart, but what can I expect from someone that doesn’t know any better? And you’re right, he was born American. I can’t fault him for that although most times his sensibilities and brilliance would pass for English. That’s the reason I keep forgetting his roots were indeed in the Americas, but he had the good sense to marry an English woman. Now where was I before you rudely insulted me, ah, yes, this place being haunted. Yes, after the military stopped using it, it stayed haunted and alone until an American actress gobbled it up. She took up residence here – then went back to the states, leaving it once again abandoned.”

  “Abandoned?” Miranda said looking around at the wild, nameless vegetation surrounding her and dribbling down from the walls. “I would have never guessed.”

  She assumed another protective stance – her arms crossing over her chest. Reginald knew and understood the gesture. She was keeping everything away. He knew that she thought that if she kept everything away – she’d be all right. It’s one of the reasons she hadn’t married. He knew she was wrong, but there was no talking to one so young and so cocksure of herself. He’d do his best and try.

  “Must you mock everything in that condescending tone?”

  “What is with you? You know full well that if someone else said that, you’d have said it was a fine example of dry, English wit. And as for the actress, at least she broke that curse. Nothing horrible could have happened if she moved back home.”

  “Did I say she moved?” asked Reginald without pausing long enough to give Miranda time to answer. “You simply have to learn to listen and not run that trap of yours. I said she traveled back home, but she did so in a coffin. She died less than two years after she moved into Weatherly Manor.”

  “Really? And who was this actress? Did she have a name?”

  “Of course she had a name! Everyone has a name! Even you Americans have names! Did I say she didn’t have a name?”

  “Well, then what was it?”

  “Lillian Wilds,” Reginald responded against his better judgment. He would have substituted another name, but didn’t have that many actresses who were American in his lexicon. He hoped that Miranda didn’t recognize it, as he wanted his little game to go on a while longer. One look into Miranda’s eyes told him she’d won and he’d lost. It was so like Miranda to know just the right question to ask to get herself out of a jam and climb back on the top. She had a sixth sense about things like that. An intuition. Maybe that’s why she was so frightened of certain subjects. It could be that because of her intuition, she felt things more strongly and recognized that things such as the paranormal existed.

  Reginald stood ready to acquiesce and let Miranda savor her victory. She had won this round, but he wanted to make sure he won the fight.

  “Lillian Wilds? The Lillian Wilds?” Miranda knew of Lillian Wilds. Anyone and everyone in America did. She was a legendary actress that had starred in numerous Hollywood classics. She began laughing. Now she knew why Reginald had so valiantly tried to withhold the name of Lillian Wilds – it would have given his game away.

  “Why you are an old coot!”

  Reginald stammered in that decidedly English way, emitting a series of stuttering sounds approaching outrage, but not quite. He was not the consummate actress that Lillian Wilds had been. Miranda was pleased at this turn of events.

  “I don’t know the complete history of Lillian Wilds, but I do know that she lived to be well into her eighties! I’ll bet you knew that as well, you rascal! You deliberately left her advanced age out of your little story! It would mean you were reciting hogwash! But why?” Miranda asked pressing her French manicured forefinger into her delicately pointed chin. She had it! “Reginald, if I didn’t know better I would say you were trying to scare me!”

  “Me? I? … would never … how could you think,” Reginald uttered not quite sure what to say. He had been caught – red-handed and red-tongued. He did what he would have done if in the courtroom, and that was to puff his chest out to an unnatural dimension. He waved his hands in the air wildly as if trying to convince himself of his sincerity.

  Miranda noticed the over-inflation of Reginald’s chest due to an intake of air that was not released. Did he think he was a flat tire? Yes, and there was that telltale red creeping into his smooth, white English cheeks. He’d been had. She poked her fingernail into his chest trying hard to puncture and deflate his ruse.

  “Yes, you! You were trying to scare me, weren’t you? I’m sure you made everything up! Admit that you did!” Miranda said still laughing heartily. She turned inserting the large iron key into the door only mildly aware of the sounds of vigorous protestations behind her. She smiled to herself realizing that he wasn’t going to stop. If only he knew that she’d never be convinced – that alone might stop him from trying.

  The morning was turning out to be full of surprises. First, getting a gander of Weatherly Manor and now Reginald thinking he could get away with making up tall tales. She had to admit that she was rather amused. She was regularly reminded by examples such as this as to why her father had liked this strange character so much. Reginald was full of vinegar. It’s what made him so delightful. No one would ever expect the respected, conservative attorney to be making up tales of the supernatural to scare the wits out of her, but he had. She shook her head gently, brushing a lock of hair from her brow. This certainly was a side she’d never seen before. She wondered what other stories he’d made up that had gotten past her. From now on, she’d be on her guard as far as Reginald was concerned. There was an imp in him that occasionally got loose. This was certainly one of those times.

  Reginald stood on the step watching the tall, elegant woman unsuccessfully try to open the locked solid oak door. What with her wavy blonde hair and chestnut brown eyes, she really had grown up to be quite lovely. Her face was expressive and her skin smooth except for a smattering of freckles across her nose. On occasion, powder covered them and gave her a photofinish, but Reginald liked her best like this – natural and letting her God-given beauty shine through. He saw
her in profile now, her chiseled chin becoming tensed. She was finding the door a handful. He covered the hint of a snicker by brushing at his combed and slightly pomaded moustache. He bent his head down in case she turned and caught him. He hid his pleasure of the recent exchange. Deep within him he hoped it had done some good.

  Her thick mane of springy curls shook a bit from the effort she exerted. Even the soft folds of her summer-weight chiffon dress were nervously trembling. Miranda hated when she couldn’t accomplish something on the first try. He kept silent about there being a trick to opening the door. You needed to first lift up the key before you began to turn it. It was another secret he would keep to himself.

  He watched her slender shoulders struggling so. She had her full weight against the door as if she could ram it down. That was Miranda – a beautiful, battering ram, but one with a heart of gold. She was always doing, giving and donating her time to a worthwhile cause. All that good work went unrecognized and unrewarded. She felt that advertising displays of goodness were ostentatious and undid what you were trying to accomplish. Yes, Miranda was quite something else. She had that rare audacity of spirit combined with superb intelligence. Throw in a dash of ethics and you had a pretty complete picture of what she was like and why she reminded him so much of her father. So much so that, at times, it hurt.

  Reginald had been Arthur Perry’s solicitor for over a quarter of a century. In that time, they had become fast friends. It was the meshing of the personal and professional that made their partnership so harmonious. Reginald was well aware it could have gone the other way since both Reginald and Arthur were fixed in their ways. Out of mutual respect, they kept out of each other’s way. By concentrating on their jobs and not nitpicking one another, the whole thing had worked out, and the Perry empire had been built. And it had been Reginald steering, guiding, and advising the daring Arthur Perry in his business dealings, every step of the way. He always took care that his obstinate friend stayed within the letter of the law. It was a difficult task at best for he knew that Arthur Perry had not always listened to his advice. Reginald was aware that Arthur had occasionally overstepped boundaries. At times like those, Reginald had blinked to avoid seeing what crimes Arthur sometimes perpetrated to get what he wanted. Even though Arthur’s nefarious activities had made him blanch on more than one occasion, he remained true to his dear old friend and said nothing. He never let on that he knew. Adhering to legalities was a major difference in their philosophies. Reginald felt everyone should and Arthur thought that laws – like rules – were made to be broken. He called it “taking liberties.”

  Being Arthur’s barrister meant that Reginald had helped Arthur prepare his Last Will and Testament. Above all else, Arthur loved his family – he had been devoted to them. Because of his deep-seated affection, Arthur made sure his Will was always up-to-date. It was Arthur that got on Reginald to make updates and not the other way around. Reginald couldn’t think of another client that had reversed roles in this regard. The sad truth was that, even though Reginald had drafted numerous versions of the document, he never seriously considered the fact that Arthur would ever die. He had – three months ago. His wife and daughter had been in the midst of diligently planning a surprise party commemorating his making it through another decade, but the celebration never took place. On April 21, two days short of his 60th birthday, he’d died in a tragic car accident. If the accident had occurred anywhere other than on that cliff, he most likely would have walked away. The investigation had proved he wasn’t speeding – or drinking. Nonetheless, he’d managed to lose control of the wheel just long enough for his car to crash through the barrier and plunge down the steep embankment. His seatbelt kept him from going through the windshield, but in another twist of fate, the airbag failed to inflate. It wasn’t there to prevent the steering wheel from tearing into his chest. By the time he was extricated him from the pile of twisted metal, it was too late. He was pronounced dead at the scene. Reginald still couldn’t quite believe the whole thing had happened. Arthur’s death was unexpected and too soon. Arthur Perry, the vigorous man that had traveled the length of the world more times than some people bathed, had died at the ripe young age of 59.

  Because of Reginald’s intimate knowledge of Arthur’s wishes, he knew that after charitable bequests, small stipends to staff, friends, and distant relations, the bulk of Arthur’s estate would be equally divided between his wife, Constance, and his two adult children, Miranda and Chase. While some outsiders thought Chase would take over his father’s antiquities empire, Reginald always knew the business would go to Miranda. It would have been clear to Reginald even without the Will. Most outsiders had only assumed Chase would be Arthur’s choice because he was older – and a male. In reality, Chase had never even expressed an interest in his father’s profession, while Miranda delighted in it. Ever since she was but a child – knee-high in height to her towering, redwood of a father – she had always begged to accompany him on his frequent trips. He would have gladly taken her with him on all of them were it not for Constance. She kiboshed the trips on the sole basis that traveling would take too much time away from the child’s formal education. For Constance, education came first. Arthur was not so sure. He was a self-made man that valued first-hand experience more. Above either, Arthur prized his wife’s good opinion of him and, therefore, never interfered with her wishes. That meant Miranda went with her father only when not in school. Reginald knew Arthur looked forward to those times and their adventures had held a special place in his heart.

  Arthur had always pinned his hopes on his delightful daughter. She was the most like him and had inherited all her father’s inimitable fire and charm. Luckily, she had gotten her looks from her mother. Constance had been a successful high-fashion model when whisked off the market by Arthur. On their first date, he had asked her to marry him. On their third, she’d accepted. They stayed blissfully wed for 35 years until his unfortunate death. Miranda favored her mother; Chase also. Neither one had inherited Arthur’s coppery-red hair, but Miranda did get her father’s eyes. They were brown and not the sky blue of her mother or brother.

  Reginald had been the first to receive the news of his friend’s death. He rushed to Arthur’s estate where he found Constance weeping and inconsolable. He chanced interrupting her private grieving. He was glad he intruded. Upon seeing him, she fairly threw herself into his arms. He held and cradled her until she calmed down. He’d been a staunch harbor for her in her time of need.

  Because of Arthur’s upcoming birthday, both children were at home in England, but Reginald had felt it wasn’t enough. He made the determination that Constance needed more help than Miranda or Chase could offer. He discussed his idea with them and then arranged for his wife, Bonita, to stay with Constance – at the Perry estate – until she regained her bearings. Bonnie and Constance were good friends and Bonnie knew all about running a household. Reginald also knew that Bonnie could help with the details of planning Arthur’s funeral, as well as run interference against the barrage of well-meaning friends wanting to say comforting words to Arthur’s family. Consequently, Bonnie was there to lift the burden from the entire Perry family – not just Constance. It’s never a pleasant thing for the wife or children to be bogged down with morbid decisions.

  Chase and Miranda stayed on in England, while Reginald kept a watchful eye on both. He was closer to Miranda as Chase had always preferred the company of women. In fact, Chase was a momma’s boy and extraordinarily close to Constance. When he grew up, his strong affection for women was reflected in the fact that he’d married twice before the age of 24. They had been impetuous and short-lived affairs. It proved that although Chase was three years older than Miranda, he was infinitely younger in terms of maturity. However, it had been Chase that volunteered for the task of identifying his father’s body, thus sparing his mother the grim duty of viewing the grisly remains.

  Reginald’s decision had worked out beautifully for Chase. During that awful time, he�
�d accepted Bonnie as a sort of surrogate mother. The feeling was returned as Bonnie had a deep affection for the handsome, 30-year-old, but then most women did. Reginald knew his wife’s warmth and compassion could work magic, but he never really imagined it would have worked out that perfectly.

  Miranda had been another story. Reginald had reached out even though he knew his efforts would be driven away by her need to keep up a strong front. Miranda was so very different from her mother and brother. On the surface, she appeared to fare better than either, but there were reasons for that. One was that she’d chosen to pick up the reins of her father’s business rather than become despondent. She had a no-nonsense approach to life and didn’t take to “standing in mudholes,” as she put it. She was convinced that happiness was a choice, and that if you stood knee deep in unhappiness, it was a decision and not circumstances that put you there.

  Reginald was well-acquainted with Miranda’s reasoning. She handled the tragedy the way Arthur would have. Her father had also held the belief that work solved most problems. Father and daughter were both driven by work – it was their central theme. Life sprang up around their professions, and so, Miranda had used work to keep the pain away. She wasted no time at all in getting started. She was already putting her stamp on things, having arranged three major exhibits all on her own. Reginald had been against the plan. He thought one would suffice in keeping the Perry name afloat in the minds of the super rich, but it was Miranda running things – and she was doing it her way.