Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I wanted to confirm my suspicions about Chastity, but if what I supposed was true, it wasn’t Tempie’s to give, or mine to have, unless Chassie gave it to me.
I wanted to tell her about Christian, though, upon reflection, I was thinking I needed to let Christian do whatever Christian intended to do.
If he was really interested, he’d make an effort, however that came about, and Chassie was worth that effort.
It was also Chassie’s choice how she’d react to it.
I was intrigued about this “Fund” Battle and Prue had mentioned. However, that, again, wasn’t my business.
I was also curious about the vow the four of them had made.
However, from what was said, they’d apparently decided as a family they were going to remain a family no matter what, all of them living at The Downs, and if any of them found someone, that someone would have to fit in.
This wasn’t surprising, exactly. It wasn’t like the house wasn’t huge and couldn’t fit husbands (and a wife…hmm), children, and tons more pets.
It also wasn’t surprising because it was plain they suffered from supremely neglectful parents. Therefore, banding together and creating tight bonds that didn’t break was probably a defense mechanism born of a natural desire to seek love and support, and when none was to be found, creating it for themselves.
I couldn’t think on that too long, because it was too horrendous to consider, and something I’d never understand because what I had growing up was the exact opposite.
So instead, I thought of how close they were, what an amazing bond they had, and that I thought it was kind of cool they all knew they had a home and a family, no matter what.
And although it seemed clear Tempie was at one with Battle flirting with me, spending time with me and calling me darling, she might be able to tell me if Prue was immune to it, or if she, too, was acting like she was because she was okay with it.
But that I needed to ask Prue.
So I settled on, “Do you know if anything happened to Harmony after the war was over?”
Her sublimely arched brows straightened and inched together. “Happened to Harmony?”
“Yes.”
“Like what?”
“No clue. Except Marie recorded an entry in her diary about something dire happening at the house, it was clear whatever it was happened to Harmony, and she said the only good thing about it was that it was ‘dead and buried’ and ‘no one would speak of it again.’”
Tempie took this in for a moment, before she said, “I fear, Vivi, that no one spoke of it again, since I have no knowledge of anything dire happening in this house to Harmony or anybody. Sadly, we don’t have the macabre and mysterious reputation of Duncroft.”
Duncroft was another famous heritage estate up north.
It was famous for being magnificent (it was bigger even than The Downs), but also because a silent film star plunged to her death over the railing of their grand stairwell back in the 20s.
It was ruled an accident, but rumors persisted to this day that it was murder.
They’d recently been in the news because that film star’s great-nephew hatched a scheme to sell more of the books he wrote about the tragedy by sneaking in and doing weird shit in the house to scare the people living and working there.
He’d been caught out by the earl’s heir, and prosecuted. My understanding was he was in jail. But the earl’s heir was now the earl and married to the American heiress who was there for a house party during this fake haunting.
I’d followed the story, obviously, because it was interesting, included a historical estate steeped in just what Tempie said it was, the macabre and mystery, but also because it was romantic.
Tempie got to the meat of the matter quickly. “Do you think, whatever this is, it’s why Harmony ended things with Charlie?”
“I think the dates match from when their love letters switched from being love letters, planning their lives and future together, to her breaking things off,” I replied. “It was getting late, so I wasn’t able to check.” And I’d been interrupted by nosiness about the Christian/Chassie thing, something I didn’t share. “I’ll be confirming that today.”
“I would encourage you not to hope too much you’ll find anything,” Tempie warned. “Outside of learning to hold our liquor, aristocrats are dab hands at holding our secrets.”
“Yeah, I’m aware I might never find out, but I’m going to try.”
“Oh God,” was said at the door where Courtney was tumbling through. “Why did I drink whiskey? I hate whiskey. Lord, I hope there are plenty of sausages.”
I exchanged a smile with Tempie, though hers was more of a smirk, as was her wont.
And I cut into my own sausage.
I was out in the studio, having confirmed that yes, the dates matched between the change in tone in letters and Marie’s journal entry.