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“So, let’s go shopping and buy some clothes for our cruise. We want some fancy dresses, as I booked us to eat at the captain’s table several times. And won’t Cole look sexy in a tuxedo?” Maggie said, clapping her hands.
Cole groaned.
Chapter One.
Maggie
Three months later, Maggie surveyed her new pride and joy with a beaming smile. The Jekyll and Hyde, formerly known as the Three Moons, stood with whitewashed walls gleaming in the spring sunshine. It was April, and the Jekyll and Hyde had been closed for decades. Maggie hadn’t even seen the inside when she’d purchased it. She’d contacted the estate agents and bought it unseen once the surveyor had confirmed it was sturdy and had no subsidence or other difficulties.
The inn was made up of four Tudor cottages knocked into one residence. Two-faced the road, and to the left and right were two further wings attached at the rear, stretching backwards. They were set away from the street, which pleased Maggie. The thatch was two different colours, and Maggie assumed that the left-hand wing was recently redone. But she liked the two tones of it. The building had leafy green gardens, while in front of those were a few parking spaces. Maggie remembered a left-hand side entrance to a separate car park from the inn.
Maggie learned the name was changed in 1886 after the book. Strangely enough, the Three Moons sign floated above the door while the Jekyll and Hyde sign hung further down between the windows. Maggie discovered this quaint little inn just outside a town on a popular route and knew it would be bustling once it re-opened. They’d been looking at another pub, The Crown, for Stephanie when they had driven past this, and Maggie fell head over heels.
Over the last three months, they’d eventually purchased the inns of their dreams. Callie had bought the White Witch. Mariah fell in love with the Black Cat. Tilly refused to consider any other building bar a quirky inn called The Rose. And Cole chased his tail, trying to buy The Green Man before finally winning it. They’d decided to all move in simultaneously, so they could share their sob stories as they righted whatever needed doing inside their new homes.
The estate agent arrived and climbed out. She looked slightly uncomfortable as she approached Maggie, causing Maggie to frown. The agent’s eyes flicked over the building before she reached her. Even more surprising, it wasn’t the woman who’d handled the sale.
“Hi,” she said nervously, and Maggie noted with concern she was rubbing her hands on her skirt.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes, very much so. I’m sorry to tell you this, but Susie held some information back from you because she was so desperate to sell this.”
“What?” Maggie asked, worried, afraid her sale was about to fall through.
“The Jekyll and Hyde is haunted. Seriously haunted. They say an eighteenth-century gentleman haunts the place and an evil presence descends at night. Susie should have disclosed this, and our boss is dealing with her now. He sent me out to explain to you,” the woman said nervously.
“Hey, it’s okay. I do not believe in ghosts, so it doesn’t matter. It’s probably local legends because it has been empty for so long. But everything’s fine. If you give me the keys, I can get moving. I don’t want to waste the sunshine!” Maggie smiled and put her hand out. The agent dropped them in Maggie’s hands and scrambled back to her car. Maggie waved her off and turned with a content sigh. Local stories would not frighten her away.
Maggie gazed at the inn for a few happy moments. The building was extended and two storeys high, with a ground floor and first floor. The ground floor held the bar and kitchen, with seating for customers. There were twelve double suites on the first floor. The attics had been converted into eight further guest bedrooms and an apartment for herself years ago. This gave Maggie twenty rooms to rent in total.
Maggie had an architect meeting her later that afternoon to see if there was space to create ensuite bedrooms rather than have customers share a bathroom. The red roses climbed trellises and were wild, while the windowsills held flower boxes containing dead offerings. The windows were glass and lead-lined in diamond shapes. A thatched roof covered the inn, and she sighed at the chocolate box image it presented. There were two entrances, one in the middle, a heavy wooden door with iron studs, and one at the end in a similar design.
Maggie knew behind the inn set offside to the left was a beer garden and an old stable block. But for today, that wasn’t her priority; getting inside was. Maggie strode towards the door and inserted the heavy key. At first, the key didn’t want to turn, and Maggie grunted and wrenched before heading to her car for some WD-40. Spraying the lock’s interior, Maggie eventually managed to get the lock to spin and entered her new domain.
Ruefully, Maggie stepped away, coughing as she drew in a deep breath and sucked in decades of dust. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe before finally calming enough to stick her head back inside. Glee rose as she stared at the bar and its original features. Oh, this was beyond measure! Old, whitewashed plaster, now looking cream, had wooden beams in a Tudor criss-cross pattern. The counter appeared to be from the 16thcentury, even though it had been carefully extended. Made of heavy dark wood, Maggie knew it would gleam when she cleaned and polished it.
Sturdy chairs and tables were dotted around in nooks and crannies, with an area on the left-hand side opened up for several larger dining tables. At each end of the pub held two massive, inglenook fireplaces with old-fashioned armchairs surrounding them. Made of aged stones, they were big enough that Maggie, with her five-foot height, could have stood up inside them. Brass horse badges on leather straps were smothered in a thick coating of dust, and horseshoes decorated the beams.
Maggie gazed upwards and noticed old lanterns, no doubt original to the inn, and further decorations hanging from them. Her gaze wandered around her new home, taking in things that required fixing, such as sofas and several of the dining chairs. Rugs needed cleaning or replacing, and some stone tiles had risen. Still, nothing major demanded urgent repairing, from what Maggie could see. Her stare drifted to the far-left fireplace and saw a portrait placed above it. Inexplicably drawn to it, Maggie moved forward and stared at the painting of a handsome man.
He had eschewed the wig most of his era wore, and his blond hair gleamed almost silver; his clothing defined a gentleman of the early 18thcentury. Maggie judged around 1715 to 1730. A straight roman nose was perched under a set of dark brown eyes with a tint of green around the edges. His thin lips were curved slightly in a smile, and there was a hint of mischief about him. But his eyes also held a promise of danger. She saw a brass plaque attached to the bottom of the picture and stood on tiptoes to wipe it clean.
“His Lordship Lucian ‘Lucifer’ Norton, Earl of Castleton,” Maggie said aloud. “Well, Your Lordship, weren’t you a handsome chappie?” A shiver ran down Maggie’s spine, and she sensed eyes on her. Turning swiftly, intent on startling an intruder, Maggie found nobody behind her. But her gaze was drawn to the fireplace at the opposite end. There was a portrait of a woman. Maggie walked over to her, her feet leaving marks on the dusty floor, and looked up before a violent tremble travelled through her body.
One of the most beautiful women Maggie had ever seen stared out the painting at her. Long, dark, curly hair fell freely over an elegant dress. Yet Maggie grasped the gown didn’t suit her, that she wasn’t born to richness. Cold amber eyes beamed at Maggie, and she felt as if they were actually watching her. Plump lips, high cheekbones, and a regal, petite nose accentuated the beauty of the lady in front of her. Maggie sensed a chill. Without a doubt, this woman had been bad to her bones. She had no idea how she knew that, but deep inside, Maggie knew she’d been evil. Timidly reaching up, Maggie cleared the small plague underneath.
“Margery Cross,” Maggie whispered and frowned. There was no other information present. “How strange.” Maggie stepped back, unwilling to tear her eyes from the portrait but being practical as she was. Maggie shook off any negativity and began making a list of cleaning supplies. Yet she didn’t venture upstairs once.
Lucian.
Lucian stared at the invader in his territory. She was a beautiful little creature, with all golden curls and big brown eyes. A sweetheart-shaped face, with bow-shaped lips that he’d have broken his neck to kiss in his younger years, caught his attention. This tiny darling would have brought him to his knees centuries ago. But he was immune to such beauty after many decades.
Lucian stood behind her as she studied his painting and had to reel his inner self in when she called him handsome. He had just stopped himself from appearing to her and kissing her swanlike neck and wondered at his sudden lack of self-control. But somehow, the woman sensed him and turned around, and Lucian caught himself in those beautiful dark eyes. A frown crossed her face as she spied Margery’s cursed portrait and made her way over to it. Lucian longed to drag her back but held off. It was best the girl noticed the surrounding evil before she settled in.
Lucian leaned against a wall divider and watched curiously as the stranger studied the painting. He wished he could chase her out of the inn, but he was stuck until he knew why she was here. Was this someone assessing the inn? Or a new buyer? Was she planning to put the Jekyll and Hyde up for sale? Although he could watch her hips sway all day long and never mind that plump behind when she bent over! Her presence was a mystery; until he knew what she was about, Lucian would keep his existence hidden.
Maggie.
