Mystery and Crime Fiction posted April 10, 2025 Chapters: 1 -2- 3 


Exceptional
This work has reached the exceptional level
Visitors Begin To Fill The Castle
A chapter in the book Landingham Hill

Landingham Hill Chap 2

by Begin Again


Regardless of how often Charlie had visited the castle, the grand entrance always took her breath away. Though outwardly, she always appeared analytical and focused, she harbored a quiet, inner dream of a fairytale wedding. As she entered, just for a moment, she imagined herself descending the grand staircase in a sweeping wedding gown. The vision made her inhale sharply, only to be shattered when her gaze landed on Nathaniel descending the stairs.

She and Jack had barely crossed the threshold when a voice called from above. "Inspector Morgan. Mr. Lexington."

Nathaniel was a picture of composed elegance in his gray linen blazer and dark, tousled curls. A young woman followed at his side, hands clasped, face pale but poised.

"I know Nathaniel," Jack muttered. "But who's the delicate shadow?"

Charlie watched the pair descend. There was something fragile about the woman, like a china doll on the verge of cracking.

"Jack. Charlie." Nathaniel greeted them warmly. "May I introduce Rosalie Jarvis, a dear friend of mine? She's been under a great deal of strain, and I thought a little time in the countryside might help her recover."

Charlie raised a brow. "Recover from what, exactly?"

Nathaniel smiled politely. "Let's just say city life has its dangers."

Rosalie nodded faintly, quietly saying, "It's nice to meet you," before lowering her gaze.

Jack gave Charlie a look but said nothing. They knew a deflection when they heard one.

Before Charlie could press further, a server gestured them toward the drawing room. "Pardon my interruption — refreshments have been prepared if you'll follow me."

The drawing room was grand but not stuffy, with arched windows overlooking the beautiful garden and manicured lawn. Firelight flickered behind a decorative screen, and soft music played from a gramophone in the corner. Silver trays carried glasses of sparkling wine and trays of canapes.

Jack plucked a glass from a tray and held it up. "Well, if this is recuperation, sign me up."

Charlie took a glass more cautiously. She glanced at the server who offered it, meaning to ask for a napkin, but he was gone.

Charlie glanced around, puzzled as to where he'd disappeared. "Wasn't he just here?" she asked.

Jack turned. "Who?"

"The server. Tall, thin, reddish hair?"

Jack shrugged. "Didn't see him leave."

Charlie frowned but said nothing.

Another waiter entered the room, leading the way for the new arrivals. His voice was deep as he ushered them into the parlor. "Please join the other guests, sir. With your leave, sir, I'll take your luggage to your room."

Dylan entered, a grin already on his face. "Look at this crowd! The gang's all here."

Charlie smiled despite herself. Dylan's energy filled the room like sunlight. But trailing behind him was Stacey Trudeau, with miles of leg, a snug dress, flawless makeup, and a socialite shine.

Jack took one look and whispered, "Ah. Trouble in heels."

"Stacey," Dylan said, slipping an arm around her waist, "wanted to see the place for herself. We're spending the summer here. Family time. A little healing."

"Healing?" Jack echoed. "Sounds contagious."

Charlie sipped her drink. Stacey had already begun circling the room, eyeing artwork and antiques with great interest, remarking, "Dylan, you must see this. It's a David Hockney painting. If this is an original," Stacey's fingers brushed the corner of the painting. "It sold at Christie's in New York for $80,000,000. And now it's here at the castle."

Surprised by Stacey's knowledge of artwork, Dylan joined her, examining the painting and hoping to downplay its importance. "I'm sure it's a copy, Stacey. Well done, but not the original." Dylan slipped his arm around her waist and steered her toward the server with a tray of drinks. "Come on, let's have some champagne. I came to relax. I study artwork every day. Let's enjoy ourselves."

Stacey snuggled against Dylan, letting her gaze settle on Charlie before she pressed her lips against his cheek. "Of course, darling, how silly of me. I only meant to admire the work."

Nathaniel stood by the hearth, drink in hand, and turned to Charlie. "I heard one of the guests was missing. What's that all about, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded slowly. "Arthur Bell, a local historian, was conducting research. No one has filed a missing person case. I imagine he took one of those tour jaunts to a neighboring town and failed to notify anyone of his intentions. Nothing to be concerned about. The newspaper likes to make money from its unnecessary hype."

Rosalie looked up sharply, then masked it. Nathaniel, too, showed a flicker of concern. "I met him a few days ago. He was excited about his research. Something about learning new details about the original Landingham family."

"He left behind a notebook," Charlie said. She paused, then added, "Someone will tell you anyway, so I may as well tell you another body was found with Arthur's notebook nearby."

Rosalie's eyes widened. "Another body. How dreadful. Are we safe here, Nathaniel?"

Charlie pressed her lips together and answered, "I wouldn't worry about this body, Ms. Jarvis. It appears to be over fifty years old, maybe even more. It's part of the castle's past."

Jack leaned closer to the fire. "It gets better. There's the possibility that the notebook may have been planted. Arthur might have found something before he vanished."

"Interesting? You and the Inspector appear to have different opinions. Instead of an innocent tour, do you believe it's tied to the castle?" Nathaniel asked.

Charlie glanced around the room and laughed. "According to Jack, everything's tied to the castle."

There was a moment of silence as the fire crackled softly. Nathaniel and Jack exchanged glances. Charlie might make light of Arthur Bell's disappearance, but they sensed her underlying concerns.

Rosalie shifted, leaning against a chair. "Excuse me," she said, rising. "I think I need some air."

Nathaniel moved to follow, but she waved him off gently. "Just a minute alone." As she slipped through the doors, Charlie caught Jack's eye. "She's hiding something."

"Oh, absolutely," he agreed. "But whether she'll tell us is another matter."

"Maybe I should join her?" Charlie smiled. "Being the newcomer to the group, she might like a friend."

"Something tells me there's something different than friendly vibes happening between the two of you."

"Oh, Jack, whatever do you mean?" Without waiting for his response, she left the room to check where Rosalie had gone.

A soft draft rustled through the room as conversation resumed between the others. The curtains fluttered, and the fire dipped for half a second. No one spoke of it. But Dylan felt it. It was a chill he'd become accustomed to. He had the sensation that they were being watched.

Stacey approached Jack, swirling her wine in its glass. "So, Jack, what exactly do you do when you're not haunting castles?"

Jack gave her a crooked grin. "Oh, I'm retired. Used to leave a trail of bodies in the dark. But don't worry — I'm not responsible for any found at the castle."

Stacey blinked, unsure if he was serious.

He leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to tease. "Promise. I gave all that up — strictly old habits now. I'm here for the wine, not the intrigue."

*****

Charlie stepped out into the cool afternoon air and found Rosalie standing near the balustrade, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out over the garden.

"Mind if I join you?" Charlie asked.

Rosalie glanced over, a hint of surprise crossing her features before she nodded. "Of course not. It's so peaceful out here."

Charlie stood beside her for a moment in companionable silence. "Yes, I love it." She inhaled, breathing in the scent of the roses before she asked, "I've known Nathaniel for years. I don't think I've ever seen him as concerned about someone as he is about you."

Rosalie gave a soft smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "He's been kind. I wasn't expecting kindness from anyone. Not after — everything."

"Must've been something significant to shake you like this," Charlie said gently.

Rosalie nodded, but didn't elaborate.

Charlie didn't push. Instead, she softened her voice. "I'm guessing Nathaniel brought you here, hoping the quiet would help."

Rosalie gave a small laugh. "Quiet doesn't always mean safe, does it?"

Charlie tilted her head. "No, it doesn't. But sometimes it's a start."

There was another pause before Charlie asked, "Did you know Arthur Bell, by any chance?"

Rosalie's grip on her arms tightened ever so slightly. "Only in passing. He asked a few questions —  seemed harmless at the time."

"That's how a lot of stories start," Charlie murmured.

Rosalie looked at her, eyes serious. "Do you think something's really wrong here, Charlie?"

Charlie held her gaze. "I don't know yet. But I intend to find out."

Rosalie looked away, her voice almost too soft to hear. "Just be careful what you stir up. Some things like to stay buried."

Charlie studied her for a long moment. "Good thing I brought a shovel."
 
*****
In the sealed-off tower, far above the music and murmurs of the drawing room, the air thickened. A silver shimmer coiled in the corner, and then the ghosts began to appear — one by one, filing into the room as if court was in session.

Thomas emerged first, his coat buttoned tight despite the still air, frost whisking around his boots. He leaned against the window, the glass covered with years of grime and memories. His voice was raspy, thick, and gravely from years of neglect. "Where are Maynard and Gaston? Were they not in charge of keeping the living separated from our domain?"

Margaret stepped forward, hands clasped before her, eyes brimming with a sadness that had long outlived her tears. "They'll be along shortly, but you can't place the blame on their shoulders."

Elias paced the edge of the chamber, his boots making no sound on the dust-covered floor. "If any fingers are to be pointed, they should be in the direction of Sir Garrett. T'was the reading of his will that opened this can of worms."

"Opening the castle to the people was a beautiful gesture. Sir Garrett did not know that his generosity would lead to corruption beneath the towers."

Penelope joined the trio, swishing her petticoat as if promenading around a dance floor. "Elias and Thomas, are your empty skulls filled with sawdust and cobwebs? There will be no blaming any of us for the trouble that has fallen on the castle."

"Woman, be still. This is not your concern," Elias snarled.

Penelope moved closer to Elias, running her fingers up and down his lapel. "Your tongue still casts a bitter taste, but it can no longer silence me. I'll not be treated as property. We are all equal in this council."

Margaret reached out and squeezed Penelope's hand. "Penny is right. Each of us decided to remain in the castle and finish Sir Garrett's efforts to clear the dungeons of the evil within its walls. If any of you in the Council of Thirteen have had a change of heart, then speak now and leave." She glanced around the room, not looking for approval but seeing if their alliance still held.

Thirteen men and women — faded figures drawn from the corners of time. Some shimmered in the faint glow. Others flickered like candlelight about to gutter out. Their expressions bore centuries of secrets. One leaned on a cane he no longer needed. Another clutched a lace handkerchief that would never dry her tears.

A younger specter paced, arms folded. "Arthur Bell should never have come. He was told the past was not his to uncover."

"You told him too late," Thomas replied. "They always look. The living are blind to warnings."

The older ghost didn't turn, but his voice darkened. "He remains where he was placed —
alive but forgotten."

"That wasn't the plan," Gaston argued. The thought of leaving an innocent man to die went against his ideas of a soldier. "He was meant to warn the others."

"He chose to dig where he shouldn't," the Elder replied. "The living do not understand the weight of the past. He would have torn open wounds better left sealed."

"And now?" Penelope whispered.

A pause. Thomas's gaze settled on Margaret before he spoke, "Now, others have noticed. If the fixer finds out — Albert will never speak again."

A gust of cold swept through the chamber.

"Then we wait," Gaston said grimly. "And pray the right ghosts rise when the time comes."

Chester, a man of few words but always a gleam in his eye, moved out of the shadows and into their auras. "Silencing the historian will not bring an end to any of this. You know as well as I that the human, the one they call the Fixer, is responsible — him and his foul associates. Sir Garrett suspected and it cost him his life."

Clinging to Johan's bony skeleton for support, Lily shuffled forward into the group. "The law — the one they call the Inspector — she'll not back down. If she catches a whiff of what's happening, she'll be a dog with a bone."

Margaret nodded. "I saw her this afternoon when they discovered Jason's remains. A shell of a body that did not dig itself up to be discovered. I could sense her mind whirling with questions about the body and Mr. Bell."

"Someone disturbed the ground," Elder Whitcomb whispered, his voice like the rustle of dead leaves. "The book was left. Now, the body has been found."

"He heard the whispers," murmured a woman in a high-necked gown, her eyes glassy with sorrow. "They always do — the curious ones. He came too close."

"And now he's missing," Thomas added.

Silence settled among them. Outside, the wind rattled against the stone, like fingers seeking entry.
"The inspector is here," said Gaston, tall and angular, dressed in a soldier's coat. A soft hum of agreement passed through them.

"She'll ask the right questions," the Elder said. "But one alone will not be a strong enough force. From the others, the vibes are like twisted vines, some good, some not."

"The supreme council has sent word. The others are coming. The ones marked by fate. Some will help. Some will destroy." Maynard's eyes remained downcast, avoiding the glare of Thomas and Elias. He'd felt their accusations.

"What about the girl?" asked the young specter. "The one with haunted eyes."

"Rosalie," the soldier answered. "She sees more than she admits."

"She's afraid," the woman added gently. "Not of us. Of herself."

Elder Whitcombe nodded once. "Then we must watch her. Guide her, if we can."

"And Arthur?" the young ghost asked. A pause. "If he still breathes, it's borrowed time. And not even the walls will protect him much longer."

"The castle woke when he went missing," said Gaston. "It knows we're being watched again. We must act before the wrong hands take hold of what lies beneath."

The Elder turned toward the window, looking out over the gardens and the distant glow of torchlight.
"Let the living search their way," he breathed. "But if they come too close, we must be ready to reveal the truth or bury it again."

Margaret sighed. "I'm told I'm to meet my ancestor. Alive, she was known for her paintings, but in death, she has become a champion in the fight for what's right. It will be interesting to learn what fresh eyes see. Until then, we watch and listen."

A long silence fell. Dust hung in the golden candlelight like frozen breath. Then, they heard a dong.
The grandfather clock in the great hall began to chime. Once. Twice. Three times.

A soft, shrill ring echoed moments later — a telephone.

Margaret's head tilted, her voice a whisper, "So, it begins."

*****
Below, in the main corridor, a young maid in a crisp uniform poked her head into the drawing room, glancing toward Charlie. "Inspector Morgan?" she called. "You have a call. He says it's urgent."




Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
Margaret (Maggie) - daughter of Jenna and Matthew Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Tango and Poppa - Garth's top agents and constant sidekicks
Danni - Jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Dylan Weldon - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Charlotte (Charlie) Morgan - England's Metropolitan Police Inspector
Jack Lexington - a retired gangster in the U.S.
Frank DiVito - retired gangster, childhood friend of Garth
Danny Veraci - casino owner who walks on both sides of the line
Sam -Frank's right-hand man
Nathaniel - wealthy art curator and working undercover
Rosalie Jarvis - a young lawyer who got caught up in underworld activities
Stacy Trudeaux - society darling with a past
Arthur Bell - local historian researching the castle's past

Ghostly Castle Residents—
Thomas, Margaret, Elias, Penelope, Gaston,
Maynard, Jason, Elder Whitcomb. Chester
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


Save to Bookcase Promote This Share or Bookmark
Print It Print It View Reviews

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.


© Copyright 2025. Begin Again All rights reserved.
Begin Again has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.