Anne Graham's dream is to become financially independent through her writing. She's almost finished her first novel when she meets Graham Kingsley, a worldly older man. Taken in by his charm, she turns to him for assistance when life at home with her mother and sister becomes unbearable.
She moves into an apartment on Graham's estate, but her contentment ends abruptly when he takes her to an ancient manor house on Dartmoor and proposes marriage. Anne is stunned, not only by Graham's expectations that they will marry and her home will be at the manor, but also because she recognizes the house; despite never having seen it before, she's written about it in detail in her novel.
Just prior to their wedding, Anne meets and falls in love with another man. Ignoring her feelings, she goes ahead with her marriage. Almost immediately, her misgivings are realized as startling facts begin to emerge about Graham's past. Worse still, Anne fears for her sanity when she begins seeing images of the characters she's written about in her book and the past seems to be mingling with the present. Events spin out of her control and, caught in a web of deception and treachery, she is forced to make a decision that will have heartbreaking, and far reaching, consequences.
Excerpt
Chapter Sixteen
Anne was in bed with her eyes closed. Beside her, Maidie was quietly telling Bea about what happened.
"I heard them quarreling," Maidie said. "Then she ran down the hall and went out the back door. I knew she was upset, so I looked out of the kitchen window. I saw her standing there for ages, still as a rock and staring into the garage. Then she disappeared inside. When he went outside to see where she was, she collapsed in his arms."
Bea's voice was alert. "Do they quarrel often, Maidie?"
"No, not really. I get the feeling she bites her tongue quite a bit. He can be difficult at times. And as for that man of his, well."
"You mean the driver, Peter?"
"The late Mrs. Kingsley loathed him. I think she was a bit afraid of him really."
"Oh, I didn't realize you knew her," Bea said.
"She used to come to Lady Butterworth's. She and Lady B. were friends for years."
"Ah, yes, you used to work for her." Bea paused. "Why was Mrs. Kingsley afraid of Peter, do you know?"
"I'm not sure exactly, but apparently Mr. Kingsley wouldn't get rid of him and I think it caused a lot of trouble between Mr. Kingsley and his wife."
"I wonder why he wouldn't oblige her if he knew the man upset his wife so much. Did she ever say?"
"I don't know if she ever told Mrs. Butterworth," Maidie said. "She wouldn't have said anything to me in any case. And I really shouldn't be gossiping about my employer like this."
"Don't worry, Maidie, I won't repeat anything you say, but I need to know what's going on. Anne is all I have in the world and I have to do what I can to protect her. Did she tell you what happened outside? She wouldn't say a word to me."
"She looked as white as a sheet when he carried her in. I think he was worried about her, although after the doctor left, the driver came and off they went. All he told me was that he'd be leaving a day early. No explanation."
"Does he often do that? Leave early, I mean?"
"He has done. He leaves the poor little thing alone too much if you ask me, although," Maidie hastened to add, "it isn't my place to say so."
"Don't worry, anything you say is safe with me," Bea assured her. "Do I detect a bit of dislike for Mr. Kingsley on your part?"
"He's a generous man, I'll give him that, but somehow I just can't take to him."
"How did his former wife die? Was she ill?"
"No, it was a car accident. There were rumors that he had something to do with it, but nothing was ever proven."
"But why would he hurt his wife?"
"There was talk at the time, lots of talk. Some was about Mrs. Kingsley and other men, but I don't know if it's true or not."
"Maidie, you must keep an eye on Anne for me," Bea said worriedly. "Will you do that? If anything should seem wrong or worry you, don't hesitate to contact me. She always was such a sensitive child. And all this came upon her so suddenly. She was barely ready for it. Barely ready."
Bea bent to kiss Anne on the brow and then she and Maidie left the room.
Anne felt guilty for pretending to be asleep, but she had wanted to hear their conversation out. Now, fretful and upset at what they'd said, she began to cry. She really didn't feel so good. Although the doctor had said there was nothing wrong with her, she couldn't seem to get warm. It was what had happened outside that chilled her and she wished she could confide in Bea. But she couldn't! Bea would think she was going insane.
She still felt so cold and her body ached as though she might be coming down with the flu. Nevertheless, after a while she got out of bed and went downstairs. She wanted to write in her journal, to put down the events as she'd seen them.
The fire was lit in the study and she huddled beside it. When she'd finished writing, she locked the journal away.
She returned to the fireside and sat for a long time, wondering how it was possible for her to see those things. They couldn't be ghosts, because that would mean those people had lived. And how could they have? They were her fictional characters. With some distress, she came to the conclusion that, although it had never happened to her before, she must have been hallucinating.
She got up and wandered to the window. It was another cold, dank day, somewhat oppressive with the low clouds. One of the days Bea had warned her about before she came to live there. She hardly liked to admit it, but now she could see Bea's point. In the town, whenever the weather was miserable, there had been the distractions of her job or the shops or the library to visit.
She felt a catch in her heart. Those days when she'd lived at home and gone out to work, seemed a million years away. Almost in another lifetime. What a lot had happened in such a short time. And was she any happier than she had been at home? If she told the truth, for the most part, she would say no. Still, it was too late now to go back, or retract what she had done. She'd made her bed and now she must lie on it. How Enid would laugh if she knew how she really felt. So would Carol. They'd say: "I told you so" or "It serves you right."
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