The Secrets of Palmerston House Read online

  The Secrets of Palmerston House

  © 2018 Phillipa Nefri Clark

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes study and research, criticism, review, or as otherwise permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission from the author.

  All characters and events depicted, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real person, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: Steam Power Studios

  The Secrets of Palmerston House is set in Australia, and written in Australian English.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Christie and Martin’s Wedding Ceremony

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES

  Prologue

  Christie Ryan peered through the lacy curtains of her bedroom window in Palmerston House as below, in the garden, wedding guests gathered. Each carried a lantern and in a while, they would light Christie’s way along the path to the pond where Martin waited. For her.

  Heart racing with excitement, Christie longed for the moment she’d see the love in Martin’s eyes as she joined him at the arch to become his wife. Mrs Christie Blake.

  Everyone was here who mattered to them. Her great-aunt Martha, and Martin’s grandfather Thomas, reunited recently after five decades apart. Martin’s godfather, George, aunt Sylvia, and cousins Belinda and Jess. And dear Angus – who would soon walk Christie down the pathway to Martin – the closest she’d had to a father growing up.

  So many good friends joined them this evening. Elizabeth of course, for she owned Palmerston House. Trev Sibbritt, handsome in a tuxedo instead of his customary police uniform. Daphne and John Jones, the very first people to welcome Christie to River’s End almost a year ago. Charlotte Dean, who’d come for a sea change months ago and never left.

  Where was Charlotte? For that matter, where was Martin? Christie’s eyes roamed the garden, ending up on Thomas, who had one hand on the head of Randall, Martin’s golden retriever. Thomas listened to Trev speak on his phone. What is going on?

  “Christie, may we come in for a moment?” Elizabeth called from the doorway “Angus is with me.”

  The worry in both their faces made Christie’s eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”

  “My beautiful young lady,” Angus reached for her hands. “I’m so proud of you. No matter what.”

  “What do you mean? No matter what, what?”

  Elizabeth took one of Christie’s hands from Angus. “Now, I don’t want you to worry—”

  “Elizabeth, Angus, what’s wrong?”

  Angus and Elizabeth exchanged a glance.

  “Where’s Martin? I couldn’t see him from the window.”

  Belinda burst through the doorway. “I’ll join the search party!” She stopped in her tracks as all three turned. “Oh no. You haven’t told her?”

  “Somebody needs to tell me. Angus?” A cold knot formed in Christie’s stomach.

  “We can’t seem to locate Martin.”

  “Funny. Okay, time to stop joking around.”

  “No, dear. He should have arrived half an hour ago and there is no sign of him,” Elizabeth said.

  “Try his phone.”

  “Thomas has. So did Trev.”

  “Well, can someone run up to the house? Maybe he lost track of time.” Christie’s voice faltered as she looked back at Angus, who shook his head.

  “Trev sent someone up and he’s not there.”

  This can’t be happening.

  “He probably went for a walk to clear his head. He’ll be along.”

  “Christie, darling, I’m so sorry, but he’s not at the house. The front door was wide open. His tuxedo is in his bedroom and the phone is on the bed. He has vanished.”

  Chapter One

  “Stop fussing, Thomas!” Martin Blake rearranged the flowers in the middle of a table on the deck right after his grandfather straightened them.

  “Ha! Who is fussing now?” Thomas Blake reached into a pocket. “Might have to take a photo of you fluffing up flowers with this fancy phone you gave me.”

  “Shouldn’t you be home with your bride?”

  “My bride is having an evening out. A girl’s night, so she informed me.”

  Martin stopped what he was doing to stare at Thomas. “Which means you have nowhere to go.”

  “Rubbish. I’m an independent man. No need to worry about me, son.”

  “Go see George.”

  “Busy.”

  Martin shook his head. “Then John and Daphne. Barry? Trev?”

  “I like the view from up here. And dinner smells good.” Thomas turned to gaze across the meadow to the endless ocean beyond the cliff edge. The sun was setting, sending streams of gold across the sky.

  “Normally you’d be welcome.” Martin joined Thomas at the railing. Sea air drifted up the cliff, mingling with the ever-present jasmine climbing wildly along the desk. Martin smiled. Christie’s favourite scent. Sailboats dotted the ocean, heading back to Willow Bay a little further along the coast. In half an hour the sky would be velvet black. “Six months ago, I proposed to Christie.”

  “How precisely did you confuse her enough agree?”

  “Same way you confused Martha.”

  “Touché. So, no invitation to dinner?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can I take the dog for the night then?”

  Randall nuzzled against Thomas’ leg. “You and Randall can have a boy’s night in. If you leave now, you’ll have the cottage to yourself because,” he checked his watch, “Christie will be here any minute.”

  “Nice.” Thomas grinned at Martin. “If I leave now. Just as well, young man, that I love you.”

  “You too.” Martin patted Thomas’ back. “Now, I really do have to finish dinner.”

  Thomas whistled as he took the steps onto the grass and Randall shot after him. “Bye, dog.” Martin went indoors. He did love his grandfather dearly, but tonight he loved his fiancée a whole lot more. He checked the oven and turned it down, his mouth watering at the aromas wafting out.

  From an overhead cupboard he selected wine glasses, leaving them on the counter as he collected a bottle of white wine from the fridge. He stood r
eading the label. “Perfect.”

  “Is that the gold medal winner?”

  Christie stood on the other side of the counter, head tilted and a gorgeous smile lighting her face. Martin placed the bottle beside the glasses and gazed at her. Dressed in a simple blue dress, hair in loose waves around her shoulders, she was stunning.

  “It is.”

  “The same one we had when you proposed?”

  Martin came around the counter. “From the same batch. Seemed appropriate.” He gathered her into his arms. “Hi.”

  “Hi. Something smells wonderful.”

  “You do.” Martin kissed her lips, drawing her even closer until he wanted to forgo the meal and go straight to other more interesting things. But she needed feeding and, with a final kiss, he released her. “Did you pass Thomas?”

  “No. Did he just leave?”

  “He probably wanted to give Randall a run on the beach first.” Martin returned to the kitchen. “He’s at a loose end because Martha’s out on the town without him.”

  Christie perched on a stool. “She was quite excited actually, having dinner out with Daphne, Sylvia and Elizabeth. I think there may be a few drinks involved. Hopefully Trev doesn’t need to arrest them.”

  “She’s going to corrupt the town. What did you do, getting those two back together?” Martin opened the oven and carefully slid a covered dish out.

  “Me? I do recall you had some involvement.”

  “Only because you were crying and I felt sorry for you.”

  “Felt sorry for me! I was not crying.”

  Martin raised his eyebrow at Christie and she giggled. “Okay, so maybe a bit. And I don’t regret one minute of it. Thomas and Martha belong together.”

  “And now they are. Or will be, once Martha gets home.”

  ***

  Thomas and Randall took their time heading home. The walk along the beach always put things into perspective and by the time they reached the top of the stone steps, he’d decided it was good for Martha to have a ladies’ night out. An evening with Martin would have distracted him, but the boy deserved his special dinner with Christie.

  They cut through the graveyard, walking behind three headstones in a row. Thomas touched those of his son and daughter-in-law. His hand automatically reached out to the headstone of his first wife, but he shook his head and kept walking. There was still a way to go before he could forgive Frannie.

  Twilight turned the trees along the road into silent sentinels. How often in his youth Thomas ran along here to get home for dinner after kicking a ball with his friends until hunger overtook them. There might be more potholes now in the old road, but the sense of welcome as the cottage appeared on the other side of the abandoned railway line remained.

  Christie’s effort over the past few months was astounding, and what was until recently a sad and neglected property, now radiated old-world charm and comfort. There was still some work to do in the sprawling gardens, but the cottage of his childhood was again his home.

  At the driveway, Randall stopped, his body rigid as he stared further down the road, where it narrowed and then eventually came to a dead end. A low rumble came from his throat.

  Thomas couldn’t see anything, but a car’s engine roared into life in the distance. Headlights appeared and Randall stepped in front of Thomas. “No you don’t.” Thomas took him by the collar. “Just a lost driver.”

  A small SUV approached. Thomas expected it to stop but instead it accelerated past the cottage, throwing up stones in its wake. The windows were heavily tinted, revealing only the glimpse of a male profile. A cloud of dust spread across the road as the tail-lights disappeared around the corner toward town.

  With a whine, Randall pulled away and followed as far as the railway track. “Randall, get back here.” Thomas whistled, and a moment later, Randall ran back. “Inside. You don’t need to protect me.”

  Thomas turned to the cottage, uneasy. People who were lost normally asked for directions. People around here normally stopped for a chat. But whoever that was made a quick exit. A bit too quick.

  ***

  Bernie Cooper scowled as he touched the brakes of his SUV. Ahead, a police car was parked near a bridge and he was going too fast. Even as he slowed, the door opened and a police officer got out.

  The last thing he’d expected at the cottage was an old man and a dog arriving on foot, scaring the living daylights out of him as he peered through the kitchen window. At least he’d made it across a paddock to the car before the dog noticed.

  The police officer stepped into the road and gestured for Bernie to pull over. With a curse, he flicked the indicator on and nosed the SUV behind the other vehicle. As the officer approached, he lowered the window, tilting his head out with a smile.

  “Sorry, officer. My mistake not paying attention.”

  “Senior Constable Trev Sibbritt.” He flashed his torch into the front seat. “Any reason?”

  “Just a bit over excited at being here, sir.” Bernard opened his wallet. “Do you need my driver’s licence?”

  “Yes. Never heard anyone say they were excited about coming into a sleepy little town like this.” Trev took the offered driver’s licence. “Bernard William Cooper. You’re a long way from home.”

  “Always am. I only get back to Brisbane a few times a year. I’m a photographer. Freelance. Go where the wind takes me, in a manner of speaking.”

  “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as Trev’s back was turned, Bernard grabbed the smallest of three cameras on the seat and forced it into the glove box. The copper seemed friendly enough and if he could get out of this with a warning, it would be a bonus. As long as nothing came up on the check he presumably was doing at his vehicle.

  The moments ticked by. On the other side of the bridge was the township of River’s End, which, under the darkening sky, was little more than a couple of streets of shops with a pub at one end. Not a lot happening there, which was going to make the next week or so interesting. Everybody would know each other here and a stranger might create a bit too much interest for his liking. This town had no idea what was coming.

  Trev wandered back and Bernie grabbed a folded map from his door pocket.

  “Can you tell me which is the best road to take? There seems to be a couple of ways to my destination?”

  “Here’s your licence.” Trev handed it back. “Where you heading?”

  “Place called Palmerston House. Going to be staying there for a few days while I take shots for my new book.”

  “Over the bridge bear left. That avoids town. First fork, go right and you won’t miss it. Elizabeth expecting you?” Trev watched Bernie a bit too intensely.

  “Thanks for that. That’s Mrs White? Sounded lovely on the phone when I booked the other day.” Bernie held Trev’s gaze, hoping his acting skills held up. There wasn’t much he couldn’t charm his way out of. Or into.

  “Watch your speed. I’m not as nice if anyone causes an accident.”

  “I’ll be more aware. Promise. And thanks, mate.”

  With a nod, Trev returned to his police car. Careful to indicate and take his time pulling back on the road, Bernie raised a hand to Trev as he passed him. Thank goodness. Not the way to start his visit to town. Your triumphant arrival. He took the left after the bridge.

  Chapter Two

  Through the foyer window of Palmerston House, Elizabeth checked the driveway for the third time in as many minutes. “We’re going to be late, so you all go ahead and I’ll drive myself down soon.”

  “What if I ring the pub and let them know we’re a bit behind schedule?” Martha was reaching for the phone near the staircase as she spoke.

  “Oh, Martha, yes please. I am sorry!”

  Daphne and Sylvia joined Elizabeth at the window.

  “We’ll all go together, even if it’s a bit late.” Daphne wound her arm through Elizabeth’s.

  “Perhaps I should stay – it doesn’t feel right to greet a gues
t then disappear so quickly. What if he needs something and I’m not here?”

  “Then he can ask me.” Charlotte emerged from the hallway on the other side of the stairs, with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. “Why don’t you go to your dinner? I’ll let your new guest in, show him his room and all that.”

  Martha replaced the receiver with a smile. “How generous, Charlotte. But we wouldn’t want to upset any of your own plans, dear.”

  Charlotte laughed shortly. “Yup. So many plans. But really, go. I’m sure I can manage one guest on my own.”

  “Well, if you’re certain? His room is all set up, of course. And there’s a welcome pack on the bed. If you can just show him around and where... oh, I’ll leave it with you.” Elizabeth grinned at the face Charlotte had pulled. “Ladies, let’s be on our way.”

  Within a couple of moments, they’d piled into Daphne’s car and Charlotte closed the front door after waving until they disappeared. Her coffee finished, she ran upstairs to put on the bedside lamp in the new guest’s room and smoothed the already perfect eiderdown. Elizabeth’s special little touches made every room inviting.

  The sound of a car driving in drew Charlotte to the window. It was a small SUV, hesitating at the fountain as if the driver didn’t know where to park. Well, she could point him in the right direction. She left the door ajar and sprinted back down the stairs. By the time she reached the front door, there was a shadow through the frosted side windows.

  With a flourish, Charlotte opened the door. The man was leaning down, concentrating on a zip in a large duffel bag on the verandah. “Welcome to Palmerston House.”

  The man straightened, until he stood before Charlotte with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Not at all as I expected you to look, Mrs White.”

  Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth. Colour drained from her face as she took a step back.

  Bernie Cooper picked up his bag and brushed past her to go to the middle of the foyer, where he gazed around. “Nice. Just like the photographs. So, where is Mrs White?”

  “What are you doing here?” Voice trembling, Charlotte dropped her hands, clenching them into fists at her side.

  “Good to see you too, Doctor.”