Janet fell asleep to the steady rhythm of Dragon’s wings as they flew above the world. Her dreams filled with goblin kings brandishing axes, destroying villages, terrifying children and forcing families out of their homes to wander unmade roads across shelterless moorland. Dragon began to descend and Janet woke with a start. Pixie dozed on her lap, and Fairy had given up trying to keep pace with Dragon. Gauzy wings folded, she perched on his head, between his tiny ears, and peered ahead. She turned to Janet.
‘Look, see? Here is your father’s castle.’
Janet looked and saw. A multi-towered castle rose before them, its ancient stone aglow with the golden light of dawn, for it seemed they had flown all night. She wriggled on Dragon’s back as he swooped down to land in a wide cobbled alley which led to the castle.
Janet gathered Pixie in her arms, climbed off Dragon’s back and stood beside him, staring. The castle’s iron gates stood open. Beyond them, all was quiet in a large paved square enclosed by a pillared verandah. Not a soul in sight. Not a movement of a cat or a ghost.
‘Come on,’ Janet said. She gently tapped Dragon’s giant foreleg with the sword she was somehow holding. ‘Let’s go find the king and queen.’ She reached up and adjusted the crown she was somehow wearing. ‘Let’s tell them their princess has come home at last, and is ready to fight the evils of the real world.’
(Continued here)
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THE IRON GATES STOOD OPEN – PART TWO
Clive and Emily looked at each other with eyebrows arched.
Cyril continued his monologue.
“Each of you has been invited here this weekend to help solve a decades-old mystery that has baffled authorities ever since it occurred.
“You are here because each of you has different skills that I thought would help uncover the truth.
“While as individuals you would probably not progress any further than the authorities towards a solution – as a collective group I believe we will achieve the ultimate success.”
A murmur was heard among several of the guests. Cyril carried on.
“For the purpose of the exercise, I have divided you into pairs,” he said. “You will each work with the person on your left, starting with Clive Barrett and Emily Fortescue and working around from there.”
Emily grinned broadly at Clive and squeezed his hand under the table.
“Looks like you and I are a team,” she enthused. “Can’t wait to start.”
“Now for the mystery,” Cyril’s voice rose above the general hubbub.
“Fifty years ago this weekend, a young woman disappeared from this very dining room and was never seen again.
“Aged twenty, she was my mother’s younger sister Amanda Torrens who was staying for a couple of days before heading back to London.
“Mother, father and Amanda were all having dinner together when Amanda suddenly vanished and no trace of her has ever been found.
“Your challenge is to find out what happened to her.
“Of course, we will provide you with as many clues as we can to help you in your search. As a further incentive, I am offering a one hundred thousand pound reward to find out what happened to my aunt, though I’m sure most of you don’t really need the money. I believe you will be more interested in the intellectual challenge.
“And so I wish you the best of British luck,” Cyril concluded with a wistful smile.
Clive nudged Emily. So, that was it – a personal family tragedy that Cyril wanted solved if possible and, to do so, had brought together people with a broad set of skills to hopefully finally crack the case.
He still wasn’t quite sure why he had been asked, but could only assume it had something to do with his extensive military training.
Emily was wondering the same thing. Sure, she was smart. As an equity partner in one of London’s largest law firms, she had to be. However, was she equipped for something like this?
Although Cyril provided each pair with all the information available, including everything Scotland Yard had managed to discern during their extensive investigations, there really wasn’t much to encourage a successful conclusion to the mystery.
Amanda had disappeared suddenly in front of her sister Margaret and husband William Whiteford. There had been a loud noise outside the dining room door, Cyril’s parents had turned to see what it was and, when they glanced back in Amanda’s direction, she had vanished.
At first, they thought she was playing a trick, had whisked through a secret wall panel, but an extensive search revealed nothing.
Scotland Yard was at a similar loss to explain her disappearance and, although it had been many decades, the case had never been closed – simply stored among the unsolved mysteries waiting for further evidence, if any, to turn up.
Clive and Emily were not all that hopeful of solving the mystery, particularly with only a weekend in which to do so.
“Do you have any great ideas?” Clive inquired.
“Not really, though I think we should start with the walls to see if we can find some sort of secret passage,” Emily replied.
“The police already tried that.”
“I know, but maybe we might have better luck.”
The two of them began closely examining the dining room’s wooden panelling to see if any of it would open. Others had the same idea and soon there were teams of people combing the entire room.
Emily noticed a small lion statue in one corner and went to check it. A slight push, and the statue moved, revealing a hidden trapdoor.
She beckoned excitedly to Clive who was still tapping walls.
“Look at this,” she whispered. “I can’t believe no one has mentioned this.”
“Let’s see what’s underneath,” suggested Clive.
Carefully lifting the trapdoor, Clive and Emily observed a wooden ladder that appeared to descend to a secret passage beneath the dining room.
“We’ll need a torch,” said Clive.
“Our mobile phones will do,” responded Emily.
Clive descended first, carefully placing his full weight on a rung before moving to the next.
Once on the passage floor, he called to Emily to follow him.
Using their mobile phones to illuminate their way, the pair groped their way through thick cobwebs for several hundred yards until they reached an old iron and wooden door.
Clive tugged firmly on the handle and, with a loud creak, it began to move.
Moonlight flooded the passage and Clive and Emily found themselves staring at the expansive front garden.
“So, this is how Amanda disappeared!” they both exclaimed and then started laughing.
On further investigation, the pair discovered that Amanda had been having a secret affair with a young man, whom her parents heartily disliked, from nearby Ellsbey village.
Headstrong and deeply in love, she chose this particular weekend to visit from London and plan her disappearance so they could run away together and marry.
They also discovered that Amanda, now 70, was living in Paris with her husband and had three grown children and six grandchildren.
Cyril was delighted with their successful investigations and made immediate plans to visit his long-lost relative.
“I think this belongs to you two,” Cyril said to Clive and Emily, holding out a cheque.
“We don’t really need this,” said Clive. “We are just glad we could solve such an old mystery and bring you some joy after all these years.”
“Ah, but you deserve this,” said Cyril. “And my word is my bond.”
Clive laughed as he accepted the cheque. Then, taking a punt, he looked at Emily.
“At least we won’t have to run away,” he said laughing, as he took her in a loving embrace.
Quick work!
And so this lovely fantasy continues…
My contribution:
THE IRON GATES STOOD OPEN
The iron gates stood open, fronting a long, sweeping gravel drive leading to a stately mansion.
Clive nosed his expensive late model Maserati past the stone pillars and drove slowly to the front entrance where he was met by a butler dressed in traditional black and white attire.
The butler opened the driver’s door, allowing Clive to alight.
“Jeeves, at your service,” he greeted him with a smile. “Allow me to bring your bags, sir.”
Clive couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing and hearing. A traditional butler named Jeeves. Must be quite a set up they have here, he thought.
The successful London stockbroker hadn’t quite known what to expect on the drive down from the city.
He was merely responding to a mysterious invitation that had arrived several days earlier in the mail which, at first glance, he almost tossed into the bin.
However, something about the wording prevented him from doing so.
“Your presence is required at Elkington Manor, 2 Twickenham Road, Ellsbey, Suffolk on the 2nd March, 2019” it read. “Once here, you will spend the weekend trying to solve a mystery that has baffled authorities for many years.”
Clive was intrigued. What mystery? And how on earth would he be any good, given that, whatever it was, authorities had been unable to solve it.
At first, he thought it must be a mistake or a joke and was again tempted to bin it. Instead, here he was, having voided all other appointments for the weekend, about to enter this magnificent residence and hopefully uncover the mystifying circumstances surrounding the invite.
“This way, sir,” said Jeeves, a bag in each hand. “Your room is up the stairs and on the left.”
A magnificent, elegant staircase stretched before them with what looked like an enormous 18th century crystal suspended from the towering dome ceiling.
Clive’s room was, in fact, a luxurious three-room suite with sumptuous, deep pile red carpet and gold fittings everywhere he looked.
“Dinner is at eight, sir,” Jeeves offered. “The attire is formal.”
And, placing the bags in a corner, he quietly departed.
Clive spent some time looking round his surroundings. The bathroom was equally impressive – soft lighting with an above ground bath fit for a king or queen, all the towels heavily embroidered with matching gold lettering.
Lucky I packed a dinner suit, thought Clive who, not knowing what to expect on this intriguing weekend, was prepared for anything.
While running a bath and preparing for dinner later that day, he pondered this entire episode.
Tall, good looking with brown hair and matching colour eyes, at 40 and still single Clive was at the peak of his so far successful business career. Fifteen years as an officer in the Queen’s Household Cavalry had instilled a worthy self-discipline ideal for the financial world.
Once he left military life behind, Clive had been snapped up by one of London’s leading stockbroking firms and, from then on with most of his clients among Britain’s most wealthy, money had never been a problem.
Still, for the life of him, he could not figure out why he would be invited to such a curious weekend.
Guess I’ll have to wait until dinner. Maybe then all will be revealed.
Clive was surprised when he entered the lounge room at 8pm to see several other people milling around and chatting, drinks in hand.
“What would you like to drink, sir?” Jeeves seemed to be everywhere.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic, thanks Jeeves,” Clive replied.
A tall, willowy young woman in a glittering, backless, silver evening dress approached him.
“You’re Clive Barrett, aren’t you?” she queried, a bright smile on her face.
“Y..yes, how did you know?”
“I’ve been following your stunning progress with the stock market in the Times,” she responded. She held out a gloved hand.
“Emily Fortescue.”
Clive shook her hand warmly.
“Pleased to meet you, Emily,” he said, matching her smile with his own.
“Do you have any idea why we are all here?” she inquired.
“None at all – other than it is to solve some mystery that has had authorities stumped for years.”
“Yes, I know that, but what’s they mystery?”
“You’re guess is as good as mine. And I gather all these people are here for the same reason we are.”
As Clive and Emily continued chatting, he found himself drawn to her wit and obvious intelligence and began to wonder if coming to the manor for a mystery weekend might not have been the best decision he had made in a long time.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Can I have your attention, please?” Jeeves again.
“Dinner will now be served in the dining room with name tags for your places. Your host will join you presently.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd as everyone shuffled to the adjacent dining room to find their seats.
As luck would have it, Clive and Emily were seated next to each other and so were able to continue the conversation they had started in the lounge.
It wasn’t long before a tall, distinguished, grey-haired man entered the room and took his seat at the head of the table.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Cyril Whiteford and I am the owner of Elkington Manor,” he announced by way of introduction.
There was an immediate hubbub as the assembled guests vied loudly to have their questions answered.
“All in good time,” said Cyril. “We must eat first and then, after dinner, I will try and answer all your questions.”
Clive performed a quick count and determined that twenty guests were seated around the long banquet table.
Genders were more or less evenly matched in number and, although they were all dressed in what appeared to be expensive outfits, he could not recognise any of them.
The longer he talked to Emily, the more impressed he became. She was not only beautiful with the warmest of smiles, she also had an intelligent mind that more than matched his own.
Whatever this mystery is, he thought, I hope I get to work with Emily in solving it.
Little did he realise that she felt the same. This handsome, still relatively young, former member of the Household Cavalry was just the sort of man she had been searching for and she revelled in his sense of humour and intellectual wit.
Once dinner was finished and coffee served, Cyril stood up and began to address his guests.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I know you are all dying to know why I have asked you here for the weekend, so I won’t keep you in suspense any longer.”
To be continued…..
WHATT??? tbc? Ha!