Hypnotic Love

By Patricia Catacalos

England 1861 – The rakishly charming Charles Phillips, Viscount Chesterholt, is repeatedly surprised by a female nightly visitor who roams his country estate seemingly in search of something. She appears entranced. Is she real or ethereal? What is she seeking? In searching for answers, Charles enters a realm of mystery, deceit, and murder to discover who this woman is and why she ‘haunts’ him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Catacalos
• Release date: Feb 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301646364

Patricia Catacalos

I hold a BA in Theatre from Seton Hill University and a MA in Theatre from the University of Denver. Years ago, when still single, I acted in and directed plays in the Philadelphia area but suffered the fate of many artists, struggling financially. So I entered a career in sales. But, my creative spirit needed to express itself and several years, ago, I started writing historical romances. I discovered that writing historical romances is my passion. I love weaving historical personalities into my plot, interacting with my fictional characters. Recently, I began writing historical mysteries/intrigue and again, love the aspect of interspersing historical fact and personalities into my story line.I am married to a loving and supportive man with a Greek heritage (which influenced a couple of my novels) and we live in southern New Jersey.

Book preview

Prologue

England 1848

Ariel, someone is coming! We must hide!

The dark-haired little girl visually scanned the room, frantically searching for a hiding place.

In quick reaction to her friend’s warning, red-headed Ariel scurried around the large mahogany desk before miming for her companion to follow her.

In her frenzy, Elyse dropped her porcelain doll to the floor as she rushed to where her friend stood beckoning her forward. Together, simultaneously, they dropped to their knees before crawling beneath the desk into the cubby hole functionally designed for the desk chair and its occupant’s legs.

The two girls sat with knees to chests and arms looped around their legs, trying to be as small as physically possible. Fortunately, the front panel of the desk effectively hid them from the view of the person now entering the study.

They heard one of the double doors open, creaking on its hinges, and the rustling of long skirts crossing the carpeted floor. The woman stopped near the far wall cater-cornered to the massive hearth. The fire blazing in the fireplace offered some flickering illumination to the dimly lit room and the intruder held a candleholder with its beeswax candle aflame, adding additional light.

Ariel lifted her forefinger to her lips, signalling Elyse to remain silent. Then slowly she inched her way out from beneath the desk, crawling on all fours to one of its corners. She poked her head forward but just far enough to peer beyond the barrier to see who had entered the room.

Ariel spied Elyse’s mother, Baroness Frederick, who stood facing the oil painting which hung on the far wall. Her back was to the peeking child. She placed the candleholder on the surface of a nearby table, unaware of being watched. Then the Baroness determinedly lifted the picture off the wall and set it on the floor at her feet to reveal the cast iron wall safe. She retrieved a small brass key from her skirt pocket and with a trembling hand she placed it into the keyhole and summarily turned it. Momentarily a click sounded, seemingly echoing throughout the shadowed room. She paused, listening for any approaching footsteps. The clicking sound had not alerted anyone.

The Baroness opened the heavy squared door and reached into the cavity of the safe, retrieving a small velvet pouch. Quickly, she loosened the cord which tied the pouch closed. She dropped the contents onto her open palm and examined it in the candlelight.

Ariel could not see what the Baroness held in her hand but she thought she had seen something glittering. She watched as the Baroness stared at the object for several long moments.

Retying the empty pouch, the Baroness hastily replaced the bag into the safe while still clutching the object in her closed fist. In two fluid movements, she closed the safe and replaced the painting onto its hook in its customary position shielding the safe.

As the Baroness began to turn in the direction of the desk Ariel hurriedly scrambled backwards, crouching beneath the desk in her previously vacated spot. Again, she placed her forefinger to her lips, demanding that Elyse remain quiet. Then she silently mouthed, ‘your mother’.

Elyse nodded anxiously, knowing full well what would happen if she were discovered in a room she was forbidden to enter. Her father forbade her admittance to his study and her mother cajoled her to comply with his wishes. Discovered by either parent would result in severe punishment.

The two girls could hear Elyse’s mother’s footsteps moving about the room. Her swirling skirts swished at her booted ankles with the rapid movement. The girls shivered as they watched the flame of the candle, she held create ominous shadows on the wall, as she traversed the large room, visible from their hiding place. On three separate occasions, the Baroness ceased her walking and remained still for long, interminable moments. Then she would continue as if she were searching for something or… someplace perhaps to hide the object she had taken from the pouch. That was what Ariel perceptibly surmised.

Finally, the Baroness halted directly in front of the desk. Elyse’s eyes widened. She anticipated discovery and feared the consequences. Her heart began to race.

Ariel was curious to learn what Elyse’s mother was doing. Had she sensed her daughter’s presence in the room?

Stealthily, Ariel crawled on hands and knees to the side of the desk closest to the hearth and presumably positioned to the Baroness’ back. From there, the girl surreptitiously watched the woman.

The Baroness bent over and picked up the porcelain doll earlier abandoned by a startled Elyse. Staring down at the painted face of the childlike doll, the Baroness whispered, Elyse… Her head snapped upward as if physically struck by a sudden realization. Elyse, are you in this room, hiding?

Elyse closed her eyes shut, willing herself invisible. She held her breath. She could hear her mother’s footsteps moving around the desk to where Elyse hid. But just as Lady Frederick would have reached Elyse’s hiding spot, she abruptly halted. With eyes still tightly closed, Elyse heard what sounded like the opening and then closing of a drawer.

Ariel could not see what the Baroness was doing at the other corner of the desk. She could only see the woman’s bent head and hear the same scratching sound of something opening and closing.

Then, startling both little girls, another set of footsteps resounded in the hallway. Someone else was approaching the study.

Ariel observed the panicked expression on the Baroness’ face. It was obvious that she did not wish to be found in her husband’s inner sanctum. Clutching the doll to her breast, she crossed hurriedly toward the closed double doors and placed a listening ear against the wooden panel. Her eyes were closed as if in fervent prayer.

Moments later the footsteps receded down the corridor toward the rear of the house. Presumably it was a servant performing his or her nightly duties.

Turning toward the centre of the room, the Baroness whispered once again, Elyse?

No response.

The Baroness now seemed visibly convinced and relieved that her daughter was not presently in the room. Looking down at the smiling doll, she shook her head, regretfully. The doll was evidence that Elyse had been in the study, at some point, and must now endure just punishment.

She leaned her ear against the door one last time to ascertain that the hallway was indeed empty of occupants. Then the Baroness gingerly opened the door and slipped through the narrow opening, disappearing from Ariel’s sight. Once Lady Frederick was gone, the precocious child inched back to the opening of the cubby hole and tapped Elyse on her trembling shoulder.

The two seven-year old girls had gone undetected. But they could not tempt Fate further. It was time for them to sneak upstairs into Elyse’s bedchamber. They had explored enough on this night. Tomorrow was another day of adventure.

******

On the following morning, Elyse awoke to discover herself cuddling her favourite porcelain doll. Her mother must have placed the doll in her arms when she had stopped, prior to retiring, to kiss Elyse good night.

As Providence would have it, that previous nightly visit would be her mother’s last.

The Baroness was found dead that very morning, following the night of her odd behaviour in her husband’s study.

Discovered by her personal maid, the fully dressed Baroness was lying on her bed, wide-eyed and staring into nothingness, lost forever to this world. Her arms were flung outward with open palms displayed as if beseeching the heavens to take her immortal soul. Nothing rested on her palms…only the invisible residue of something leaving an imperceptible mark…the mark of death.

Chapter One

England 1861

The mantel clock was just chiming three in the morning when Charles ambled into his study.

The tinny chimes echoed in his head like the exploding report of fireworks. He splayed his fingers through his long, straight blonde hair and wished for silence…blessed silence. He had consumed far too much alcohol, resulting not in a state of euphoric numbness but rather in a persistent and unrelenting headache.

Charles groaned. He was becoming much too old at three and thirty years of age for nights of unbridled carousing.

He collapsed onto the leather winged-backed chair positioned before the hearth and dropped his head backward against the headrest. Even that seemingly simple move produced excruciating pain. In that moment, he decided that the time had certainly arrived to mend his wayward ways.

He sat with eyes closed for several long minutes before deciding to re-position his body farther from the sweltering heat of the fire in the fireplace. The heat was becoming oppressive and he suddenly wanted…needed fresh, cool night air.

He rose slowly to his feet, swaying slightly in his inebriated condition. He found it difficult to focus his eyes. His vision was annoyingly blurry. He stumbled to his desk and leaned a hand on its surface for needed balance. He should never have listened to his friend, Gabriel, and sampled that new drink. What had it been called? It did not matter what it was named. Its potency was now producing unwanted and undesirably intoxicating effects.

He slowly circled the writing desk and crossed unsteadily to the French doors directly behind the massive piece of furniture. Turning both the brass handles simultaneously, Charles thrust the doors open and breathed in the rejuvenating fresh air. The pounding in his head eased slightly…but only slightly.

As he turned toward the centre of the room and away from the gaping doorway, he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Angling his head, he peered through the opening, futilely trying to focus his bleary eyes and discern what had caused the unexpected movement in the nearby garden. Perhaps, it had been a predatory bird swooping downward toward some unsuspecting prey crawling upon the ground.

There, it moved again.

It was no bird. Something larger than a winged creature was moving about among the flowering bushes and ornamental trees. And then Charles heard what he thought was pure imagination.

He heard a child’s giggles. He shook his throbbing head. Impossible!

It was the wee hours of the morning. No child could be awake and playing in his flower garden. Charles tried to concentrate, shaking his head once again to clear the fumes of intoxication from his brain.

Some of the servants had small children but they lived in the nearby village. Their parents would never bring them to his country estate. Not that Charles would have minded. He loved children, provided they were not his.

One day he would sire a son who would inherit his title as Viscount Chesterholt. But that day would be far in the future. In the meantime, he enjoyed his godson and namesake as well as little Charles’ sister, Genevieve. They were his cousin Portia’s and his best friend Nate’s delightful children with whom he spent as much time as possible, enjoying their childhood years. Portia was due to give birth to their third child which would round out the happy family to five.

Again, he heard a child giggling…presumably, a little girl.

He cocked his head, listening attentively. The giggles were most certainly in the garden.

Movement caught his eye once again. This time he could see more clearly and could distinguish the tall figure of a woman clad all in black. Were it not for the full moon shining its brilliant light onto the central path of the garden, he would have missed her. But the moonlight captured her pale face in its brilliance and highlighted the beauty of her classical features.

Charles stumbled backward. He blinked, startled by the vision before him. An ethereal beauty walked slowly on his garden path and was seemingly oblivious to his observing eye.

She was several feet from where he stood in silhouette, the firelight and lit gaslights to his back. Only the wide stone veranda separated her from him. And yet she did not seem to notice him. Or if she did, she did not seem to care that the Master of the manor had discovered her strolling his garden in the moonlight.

Charles suddenly felt perfectly sober, alert and exceedingly curious. Why was this female stranger wandering in his garden in the middle of the night? And she was most certainly a stranger for if Charles had ever met her, he would have remembered making her acquaintance. Her features were far too striking to ever forget.

The giggling reached his ears once again and seemed to be coming from his right. He quickly turned to look, expecting to see a child but saw nothing but the outline of bushes silhouetted in the moonlight. Immediately, he turned back to where the lady had been, but she was gone…vanished.

Gathering his wits, he rushed through the open doorway and ran across the stone patio to traverse down the multiple steps leading to the central path. He promptly looked to his right and then to his left. The woman was nowhere in sight.

Charles considered the woman’s options. Perhaps she had wandered off the main path to the side trail leading to the gazebo near the duck pond?

Charles quickly followed the path he was on as it bent to the left before connecting with the side auxiliary trail. Hurriedly, he strode down the pebbled route toward the white gazebo partially hidden by flowering vines. The water in the small duck pond, beyond the octagon structure, glistened in the moonlight and created a mystical, other worldly aura.

He halted at the base of the gazebo steps, visually scanning his surroundings. The woman was not there.

Again, the gleeful sound of giggling startled him from behind. He whirled around to search for the source of the laughter but saw only foliage edging the path nearest the gazebo. But he saw movement on the path from where he had just come. It was the lady traversing the path and moving away from where he stood.

Now he could see that she wore a black riding habit sans a coordinating hat. Her head was bare of any covering, fully revealing long black hair pulled back from her forehead and braided into one lengthy braid trailing down her spine. Its feathery tail reached the small of her back. The hairstyle was wholly unfashionable and more suited for sleeping than for a social visit to another’s country estate. Charles grimaced. An unexpected visit to his estate would be more precise.

Charles was not only sober now he was angry. What was this cat and mouse game this mysterious woman was playing? Was she the one giggling, able to project her laughter with the same high-pitched cadence of a child?

Charles strode quickly toward the retreating figure. He was determined to overtake her and demand answers. Within seconds his long-legged strides brought him to the intersection of the two paths but the lady was nowhere in sight.

He stood perfectly still, listening for footsteps or the teasing laughter. Silence reigned.

A cloud passed across the moon, cloaking Charles’ environs in deep shadows. Still he waited, expecting to see or hear something out of the ordinary.

Logically, Charles assumed the woman had taken the other side path leading to the pasture separating the acre of flowering gardens from the dense copse of trees bordering both his estate and his friend Nate’s property. If she did, then he would see her crossing the field toward the forest where perhaps a tethered horse was hidden among the trees.

He sprinted along the trail curving to the right. Once past the bend he would have full view of the field and presumably the escaping female. Reaching the vantage point he halted and waited for the moon to shine its light upon the verdant ground. Seemingly complying with his unspoken wish, the cloud glided passed the moon and summarily removed its shielding effect. Moonlight poured forth, illuminating Charles’ surroundings.

There was no one plodding across the meadow.

The woman and the child, if one or the other truly existed, were gone.

Charles ran the splayed fingers of both hands through his long hair before pushing the blonde strands behind his ears. Perhaps he had been hallucinating. Mayhap the combination of different liquors consumed, in a variety of drinks, had produced crazed imaginings.

Charles abandoned his search, silently chastising his foolishness. He took the stone steps two at a time and entered through the French doors into his inner sanctum.

He chastised himself. The time had certainly arrived to limit his alcohol consumption and court sobriety over inebriation!

Chapter Two

Would you care for a drink, Charles? You have not indulged in any medicinal spirits all evening.

Charles sighed, silently renewing his resolve before replying to his good friend, Gabriel.

Opposite to where Charles lounged, Gabriel sat on a leather chair. He rested elbows on his toned thighs, dangling his hands between his legs while displaying a bright toothy grin. He was a darkly handsome man, magnetic in his charm and animalistic in his physical attraction. Charles with his light colouring and affable personality was the perfect contrast to Gabriel’s dark colouring and occasionally brooding manner.

The two men were enjoying an evening at the country estate of Lord Crumwell who was renowned for his gracious hospitality and penchant for gambling. Thus, his passion for weekly card games hosted either in London or at his country estate.

Charles declined Gabriel’s offer with a wry smile. The hallucination, of the previous night, still niggled at his conscience and urged his good sense to refuse all alcoholic libation. No thank you, Gabriel. I have sworn off alcohol for the time being, preferring sobriety over drunkenness.

Gabriel blinked, surprised at his friend’s new found temperance. What is this, old friend? I have never known you to refuse a drink. Was this morning’s aftermath to last night’s debauchery worse than the norm?

No, I had no ill effects this morning but last night’s hallucinations still haunt me.

Do share, my friend. What imaginings were so terrifying that you would now swear off all liquor? Gabriel was more than a little curious. He settled back in his chair to attentively listen to Charles’ tale.

Nothing proved frightening… only perplexing. I thought I saw a beautiful woman strolling in my flower garden.

Gabriel laughed throatily. Facetiously he responded, "If drink produced a beautiful woman strolling in my garden, I should like to indulge in more spirits not abstain from liquor."

Charles chuckled. The experience was rather odd. She seemed almost…insubstantial.

Insubstantial…do you mean ‘other worldly’? Gabriel laughed more uproariously. Charles, I never knew that you favoured an interest in Spiritualism!

Charles growled, "I do not believe in Spiritualism. I think it all nonsense and a ridiculous fad capturing the interest of half of London. The weak-minded half I might add." Charles’ only exception to the paranormal, which had nothing to do with the existence of ghosts, was his friend Nate’s ability to ‘astral travel’.

Charles had a sudden thought. Perhaps the woman in his garden was also ‘astral traveling’? He would need to speak with Nate and learn more about the ability to project one’s spirit elsewhere while physically remaining in another locale.

Gabriel held up his hands in surrender. I believe in your vehemently expressed disbelief. I too wholly doubt the existence of spirits.

Charles continued, It was three in the morning with only a full moon to illuminate the garden paths. So, the woman seemed ethereal and most certainly elusive. And her unexpected presence was accompanied by the sound of a giggling child whom I did not see.

Gabriel grimaced as he tucked curly strands of jet-black hair behind one ear. Three in the morning is well past a normal child’s bedtime. Are you certain it was a child giggling?

I am certain of nothing. I may have seen a woman strolling in the moonlight, heard a child repeatedly giggle or…the copious amounts of liquor I consumed caused me to imagine such unlikely things.

Have you ever imagined fantastical things in the past after a night of heavy drinking?

Charles thought for a long moment and was unable to recall an incident in which his mind played tricks on him when he was intoxicated.

Have you ever imagined, almost to the point of actually experiencing, a bevy of beauties partially naked complying with your every wish?

No, have you? Charles asked, incredulously.

Gabriel smiled a wicked grin. No, but I would like to. Perhaps that is why I drink to excess in the hope that one day I shall. In the meantime, I soberly fantasize.

Well, since I know not whether what I saw was real or a product of drink, I shall refrain from imbibing alcohol for the time being, Charles declared as he smoothed his thin moustache with his thumb and forefinger in his habitual gesture.

Please promise that you will not become a bore. I do so enjoy your wit. But I have yet to determine if your wittiness is sharpened by your consumption of alcohol or perhaps dulled. Mayhap you are actually more amusing when sober. Gabriel picked an imaginary piece of lint off his evening frock, grinning mischievously as did.

We shall find out, shall we not, during my abstention? What I do know, for a fact, is that I am a much better card player whilst sober. Tonight, my winnings are quite sizable. Charles patted the pocket of his jacket where he had stashed his monies and promissory notes. He looked about the reading room to see if any of the losing parties were present. They were not.

Since I also won at the card tables tonight and I was drinking quite heavily, one cannot base such an assumption on only one night’s performance. We may have merely been lucky tonight. Gabriel followed Charles’ gaze, noticing various guests engaged in hushed conversation while ignoring the other occupants of the large room. One singular man caught Gabriel’s attention which reminded him of the favour he needed to ask of Charles.

Gabriel leaned forward once again, resting his forearms on his muscular thighs. Both he and Charles, towering at six feet, both possessed athletic physiques due in large part to their avid equestrian pursuits but also to their pugilistic skills. Twice weekly, they would meet at the gym and pummel each other in the spirit of the sport.

Gabriel’s expression turned serious and his tone hushed. His dark grey eyes were mesmerizing and reminiscent of a wolf’s feral gaze. Please surreptitiously look at the gentleman conversing with Lord Crumwell. Do you know him?

Nonchalantly, Charles shifted in his chair, glancing casually in the direction of the man engaged in conversation with the obviously bored Earl. No, I have never seen him before. Who is he?

He is a rather brash and irritating American soliciting financial supporters to invest in a foolhardy venture involving gold. I am surprised to see that Lord Crumwell included him on the guest list for this evening.

Ah, and is the American finding supporters willing to open their purse strings? Charles left eyebrow rose with his query.

Unfortunately, yes. His success in raising funds is now limiting my pool of investors for my newest venture. Gabriel growled a snarl emanating from his primal core.

Gabriel was the second son of an Earl, wealthy not so much through inheritance as he was through his astute business dealings. He was greatly respected for his innate business acumen and was often consulted by other businessmen who wished to emulate Gabriel’s successes.

Gab, your reputation always precedes you and nets you the positive results you seek. You will always find the investors you need for any new project. Charles uncrossed his legs and rested his elbows on his thighs before leaning closer into his friend for added privacy. What is this new venture? Will you finally allow me to invest in one of your endeavours?

Gabriel did not believe in mixing business with friendship and had never solicited funds from Charles. No, you may not. It is a mite risky to be honest. But…if successful, will produce high return.

Charles scowled. There are some disadvantages to being your friend.

Gabriel smirked. Ah, yes, but the benefits outweigh the drawbacks, I assure you.

So, you say in your humble unprejudiced opinion, my egotistical friend.

And since we are friends, I have a favour to ask of you, Gabriel simpered.

Charles shook his head as he emphatically stated unequivocally, No, the answer is definitively a ‘no’. The last time you asked a simple request of me I was required to converse, for hours on end, with one of the most boring females in all of London. Just so you could speak at length with her husband regarding an investment.

Charles, you truly are a good and devoted friend, Gabriel placated his disgruntled companion. And I always show my appreciation, do I not? Did I not introduce you to that lovely widow, encouraging her to favour you with a dance? Cocking his head playfully, Gabriel tapped his cleft chin with the tip of his forefinger. Did not that introduction lead to an amorous assignation?

You know perfectly well that it did. Charles tried to suppress a grin at the comically satisfied look on Gabriel’s face.

Sighing with feigned dejection, Gabriel continued, I so hate to attend an afternoon soiree solo. It is so much better to attend with a friend.

Charles rolled his eyes. He hated to attend any afternoon soirees whether alone or with a companion. Whose soiree and why must you accept the invitation?

Lord Frederick has agreed to speak with me regarding my newest financial endeavour but only at his country manor tomorrow after his daughter’s soiree. He politely but strongly encouraged me to attend.

Charles groaned, Is he one of those marriage-minded Papas playing matchmaker between you and his daughter?

Gabriel shook his head. No, I think not. In fact, I think the father despairs of his daughter ever marrying.

Why, is she that unattractive?

Good heavens, no! She is a rare and striking beauty with a very warm personality. You have never made her acquaintance?

No, I have not met her which is not unusual since I avoid marriageable women like the plague. But if she is so beautiful and charming, why does her father doubt that she will marry?

Gabriel leaned in closer to his friend, whispering, She is heavily involved in Spiritualism.

Charles appeared sceptical. As is half of London, did I not say earlier?

Gabriel continued to speak in a hushed tone, not wishing others to overhear his revealing statements. Yes, but the Baron’s daughter actually can see ghosts and converses with them.

Charles crossed his arms against his chest, disgustedly. Gab, I thought you detested malicious gossip! You should be ashamed of yourself, maligning the lady’s reputation with such outlandish speculation.

This is not gossip. Her own father told me so. Gabriel paused in thought. Or perhaps it was her uncle who told me? Her father and uncle are identical twins and impossible to tell apart. I have been fooled on many an occasion. He paused, considering a past conversation. However, I am certain this time that it is her father extending the invitation to the soiree.

Charles was appalled that the lady’s own relatives were spreading the disparaging description of her as a ghost-talking Spiritualist. Do they not realize that their verbal criticism of her is probably why she is not married? How old is she?

She is twenty years of age and at the brink of spinsterhood. Because of what her uncle or father has said to members of Society, the members of the peerage perceive her as being a bit touched in the head. They will socialize with her ladyship and attend one of her occasional soirees, but they do so more out of morbid curiosity than with respect and admiration. Gabriel shook his head. It is such a pity. I truly like her.