Whispering Echoes - Maya Chandel (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📗

of the house, where often it seemed he might truly have been in a world of his own so undisturbed was the silence. However, he was not sure he could face that silence just now; oddly the passing footstep of the servants as they crossed the hallway was rather comforting. It was strange, he thought to himself, how such little insignificant things could bear such an effect; no doubt for most people they probably went unnoticed, but not for him.

At the sound of bright voices and laughter in the hallway, his thoughts scattered and he turned around somewhat briskly to find Letty and Michael returned.

‘Morning Papa,’ chimed Letty as she spotted him by the window. ‘Have you seen Mama about?’

‘She’s resting upstairs; she said to take the lace up to her,’ he said even as he felt his taught muscles relax again.

‘Oh ta,’ she smiled heading upstairs excitedly.

‘Care for a glass?’ Daniel offered Michael who was still hovering in the hallway.

‘It’s a little early in the day for me,’ replied Michael somewhat hesitantly entering the room.

‘Suit yourself,’ shrugged Daniel pouring himself another drink. ‘By the by do you remember Kitty Watson? You used to play with her when you were young.’

‘Yes, she’s here at Rosevale, I know.’

‘I take it I’m the last to find out?’ Receiving no reply he continued, ‘I understand she’s come to sell it off; must say it’s rather a surprise.’

‘Well she’s one of those city sorts; a country manor doesn’t really fit the bill.’

‘Doesn’t sound like she made much of an impression on you then?’ smiled Daniel.

‘She’s beautiful to be sure, but not really my sort of girl. Put her in a London ballroom and she would merely be one and the same with all the rest.’

‘I had no notion you were so fastidious.’

‘Why would you?’ replied Michael dully.

‘Well it will be a pity if she does sell it,’ said Daniel rather keenly changing the subject. ‘Fine architect was Brendan Callaghan; fine man too, he put his heart and soul into Rosevale.’

‘I think he did in all his work; you can always tell a true passion.’

‘Ah well you would know wouldn’t you, budding artist yourself as you are,’ smiled Daniel.

‘I am not an artist and nor do I aspire to be; it is just something to pass the time,’ said Michael almost mechanically.

‘Of course; your mother has far grander hopes for you.’

‘Yes well at least she has hopes for me; after all you care neither here nor there,’ snapped Michael, abruptly leaving the room.

Daniel lingered by the window a few moments, then he head in the direction of his study.


Chapter 9

Rosevale Manor, Cornwall 1930

Hovering at the door to her mother’s private bedchamber, Kitty breathed a deep sigh as she rested her hand tentatively on the handle. It was the one room where she had not ventured, an invisible boundary somehow keeping her at bay; yet it had to be done and furthermore she knew she had to do it alone. The task of sorting through Evie’s personal items was too intimate for anyone else other than herself.

Of course Aunt Elizabeth had insisted there was no need to rush to it; after all there was still over half a dozen other rooms requiring their attention. However, Kitty knew that delaying the inevitable was only cowardice; besides she had come this far without the experience being too traumatic. Indeed strange as it was, she was actually coming to feel quite at home at Rosevale.

That was not to say that she had at all had a change of heart over the sale; really she would have been a fool if she did. Whilst she had been harbouring hopes for the house fetching a reasonable price given her grandfather’s well recognised name, the estimate the agent in Truro had given could but have left her rather staggered! Mr Burns had naturally stressed the point that without actually taking a viewing of the property he could only hazard an approximate value; still the figure he had quoted was almost double anything Kitty would ever have imagined!

It seemed that Brendan Callaghan was far more renowned an architect than she had been led to believe; his works apparently most eagerly sought after. Mr Burns had informed them that it was due to the fact that he had died during his prime; just when he was starting to become nationally recognised and beginning to generate an air of true excitement about him. Talented as he was and as much promise as he held, however, his untimely and tragic death had the effect of romanticising his works in a fashion that suddenly placed him on another tier entirely. He was one of the modern greats and that Mr Burns had been quite overwhelmed at the prospect of having a Callaghan design in his commission had been beyond doubt; furthermore he had looked to Kitty quite as a celebrity!

She of course had felt rather ridiculously foolish, knowing so little of her grandfather as she did; it had seemed that Mr Burns knew more. Kitty rather thought it was incredibly dispiriting to know so little of a man who was so well esteemed; yet really she had no-one she might turn to for more information. Her Aunt and Uncle had already told her all they knew of him; information they of course themselves had learned second-hand from Evie.

She had on one occasion ventured to enquire of her grandfather from her Great-Uncle Garrett. He was the sole member of the Campbell family whom she could abide; probably because he was the only one who ever seemed to have any time for her. The Campbells were relations of Evie’s through her mother’s side of the family; though Kitty did not at all relish the connection. As far as she was concerned, they were the whole lot of them a horridly snooty bunch, who could hardly have shown her any less affection if they tried. Her Aunt Elizabeth had once told her it was because they begrudged Evie having married her father; apparently all hopes in that direction had been for Evie’s cousin Sophia.

Still Great-Uncle Garrett was the exception; he was the only who took any interest in herself or had anything kind to say of her mother. Indeed it was Great-Uncle Garrett who had told her something of her grandmother; and as such she had been rather hopeful when she had asked him of her grandfather. She had of course been disappointed. Indeed she rather thought it was the only time he had ever been short with her; telling her only that he was an American architect who would have done better to stay in America!

Kitty rather thought she must have been relatively young when she had asked him; yet it was a remark that had stuck with her. Thinking back to it now, it was rather an odd remark for him to have made; especially as Brendan Callaghan from all she had heard seemed to have been quite the most devoted father and husband. What reason would Garrett have had for expressing such an evident dislike; unless of course he was simply no better than the rest of the Campbells and merely could not bring himself to approve of an American in the family? As far as Kitty could envisage it was the only likely explanation; still she rather thought she would venture to enquire of her grandfather from him again when next they met, though that was unlikely to be any time soon. He was sadly no longer in the best of health and as such was not often in town these days.

Casting all other thoughts aside and with one final deep breath to bolster her courage Kitty turned the stiff handle, and pausing only a moment to take one sweep glance across the room before her, stepped boldly across the threshold into her mother’s private bedchamber.

As her eyes surveyed the dust-laden room, Kitty supposed it was no different from any other lady’s bedchamber. There was a very handsome Edwardian Breakfront Walnut dressing table at the far end of the room, though only a few remnants of her mother’s dressing items upon it. Approaching a little closer she could make out an ornate silver hand mirror and a collection of perfume bottles that her mother evidently had not favoured enough to take with her. It really could have belonged in any lady’s bedchamber, yet it did not; it was here in her mother’s room and somehow that made all the difference. Just looking at it now, Kitty could quite vividly picture Evie sitting at the small stool as she ran a brush through her lustrous mass of auburn curls, the shield shaped mirror reflecting her smiling face as she did so.

As she passed the table by, Kitty ran one finger lightly across its surface, relishing the sleek and polished wood revealed beneath the dust. She decided there and then that the table would be going with them, replacing her own very stylish but somehow now ordinary Venetian mirrored dressing table.

A deliciously warm feeling ran through her at the notion and she paused with a contented smile as she approached the perfectly placed Oriel window that overlooked the Italian garden below. It was rather a lovely view and Kitty could not help but settle herself down for a few moments on top of a most conveniently placed old wooden chest.

As she surveyed the serenity of the scene below her, Kitty wondered how often her mother had sat in this very place and enjoyed the same view. There was somehow something rather comforting in the knowledge that across their separate lives and times they might have shared this vantage point to take a quiet moment to themselves; almost as though it provided a running thread between them.

It was no doubt a silly sentimental notion and Kitty shrugged her head at her own folly as she made to get up and set to some useful practicalities. It was as she did so that she considered whether the chest might not have some other purpose besides providing a convenient seat, and would surely be as good as place as any to start sifting through her mother’s belongings.

It was one of those aged looking solid hardwood chests with thick iron edging and unfortunately as Kitty suddenly noticed a heavy brass lock. The discovery instantly made the chest all the more intriguing and where Kitty had been expecting to find elegant shawls or such sorts, she now found her imagination beginning to take hold.

Perhaps it was a hope chest or something of a similar fashion. Kitty had never kept any such thing herself, however, she knew that such chests had and continued to be generally very much