Do Not Be Restless in Death

By Lin Harbertson

Do Not Be Restless in Death is the third in a series of stories about a small seaside town in Yorkshire, England.
Maggie, no longer a penniless lawyer, is now the heir to an Estate, complete with Manor house and acres and acres of land. To her dismay, she discovers she has lost the one thing she valued above all else, her freedom. It is Rafael her gypsy lover who is ambitious……He plays the game of life to win…….Will he break her heart? Or his own?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665552790

Lin Harbertson

Lin Harbertson lives in Virginia. She enjoys travelling; meeting people; and driving her two ponies, Patric and Menehune. And she is always writing stories. She has previously published seven Patric the Pony stories under the name Lin Edmonds. Her first novel, Doorway through Time, is a tale about a small town, Roystone, in the North of England.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Maggie glanced at Rafael and thought he looked a little pale as they walked down the long circular staircase from the library. They could hear her grandfather’s raised voice, addressing his estate agent by phone. Find them a farm immediately. If necessary, get rid of the tenants.

The maid opened the front door, and they made their way around the side of the house to the garage. It won’t do, Rafael said as he finished his inspection of the cars. There they are, lined up like racehorses, but it won’t do. We cannot accept any of them. It’s a shame because they are all incredible, ones I’ve dreamed of owning.

He shuddered. Tell me. Who is it who will own our souls, Margarete? Who will own our souls? Will it be Dr. Nightingale?

If we’re not careful, he will, and we will end up like his son, David. She sighed. He is a wicked old man. You know what they say. He who sups with the devil must needs have a long spoon.

Are we out of sight? he asked her. Any cameras? Can he see us, do you think? Can anyone? No? Then put your arms around me. I was standing in front of the fire, and I’m still feeling cold. Was it the room, or was it him? Feel my hands. I couldn’t read your face, he said blowing on his hands to warm them.

I put my best lawyer face on. Will he be all right? she asked. I’ve never seen him like that.

Oh yes. He’ll start that project, and it’ll give him something to think about, something to plan for. Perhaps he can be guided into making it something closer to what your grandmother dreamed of, died for, a park for the people, in her name. But he’s a hard man.

They stood together, hearts beating as one, in the shadow of the garage, out of the wind, out of sight of either the house or the lodge gate.

We can’t accept a car, said Rafael. "Don’t touch anything. I’m not sure which ones, but some of these cars were David’s. He was a user, cocaine, meth, maybe even heroin, and I don’t trust old man Nightingale. I don’t want our fingerprints on any of them. Shawn Oliver will have gone over them all, and I don’t trust him either.

"At first, I had thoughts of living in this house, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want anything from this man. Did you hear what he said about your grandmother? ‘If only she hadn’t been a gypsy.’ He knew she was underage. He knew his parents would never allow him to marry her, but still he was determined to possess her, knowing the cost to her if anyone found out.

"Did you hear what he said about the threats his parents made? ‘Do as we say, or risk losing your inheritance.’ Just like the threats he made to David. For ‘inheritance’ in both cases, read identity. Being a Nightingale comes first. He is a man who will take before giving, who will put his own desires before anyone else’s. For that matter, so was David."

And the darkness? Where did that come from?

What he said very quietly made the hair on Maggie’s neck stand on end. "You saw the Darkness because John Trentham willed you to see it. He opened your mind so you could see it. The Darkness is the evil that lives within us all, biding its time, waiting only for the opportunity, for our desire. Our desire to possess something that is not ours, no matter what the cost to others, to take what does not belong to us, to impose our will on those who cannot resist … and then it strikes. In the folds of its garments live also jealousy and envy and greed. It is terrifying because it is implacable, because its power is so great.

Margarete, tell me you are with me on this. We must not take anything from this man, particularly in view of how David met his end. It would sit heavily on my conscience. He kissed her gently, first on her forehead, then on her nose, and then on her mouth.

As your lover and as your lawyer, I would counsel you that you are absolutely right, she said. Their kisses were becoming more intense. Oh, we shouldn’t have started this here. My legs feel weak.

Mine too, my angel, but I feel warm all over finally. Do you mind if we stop by my brothers on the way home? He and his wife long to meet you, but first of all we will stop by the Hastings farm and collect Lady. The Maji misses her.

They won’t let us have the dog, Rafael, she argued. They won’t. Even if your borzoi does miss her.

Yes, they will, and as he said this, he held her closer to him, his head close to hers, his arms around her waist, molding her to him in his favorite way, running his hands up and down her back.

They were alive. She was alive, one with him, with him in body and soul, and she was carrying his child. He closed his eyes and as he did so, visions of the tarn, the darkness, and the cold water threatened to overwhelm him. Mansions, cars, farms … all were only pretty toys, but Margarete, was his love, a once-in-a-lifetime love.

Turn around, he said. Please let me. I love you so. He kissed the back of her neck. His hands were caressing her body beneath her blouse, enjoying its warmth, and then, beneath her short black skirt, they were exploring the tops of her stockings and what lay beyond.

No, Raffy, she said determinedly, wriggling him away. Not here. We can’t afford any inappropriate photos in the newspapers.

You are right, my love. He stepped back; there was always later. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pointed her in the direction of the lodge gate. You know the newspaper and television reporters are out there. This is a small town. Everyone knows about you. After everything your grandfather told them, that you are his one and only heir, there will be no peace for us. We need a place to live, Margarete, somewhere to raise the children, somewhere safe and private that we can call home.

Oh Raffy. How she longed to turn around and kiss him.

He felt her impulse. Making love will always be easy for us, Margarete.

But can we live together, Rafael? We scarcely know each other.

We will dream together, and dreaming will make it so. We’ll stop by the Hastings farm for the dog on the way home. You’ll see. It will be a fun experience for you.

You are a wicked young man.

Please be sure to wave and smile at the photographers and reporters as we pass through the gate, he told her. Peasants all, he thought. My brother Neil is expecting us for tea, and tonight we will park on top of the hill at Forster’s. The stars are so bright from up there. We will be able to breathe in the clear air. We’ll take a big blanket. It will be like the island, I promise. Perhaps we will stay out all night. You will have another fun experience, this time under the stars.

We could go to the island?

The island will always be with us, he said. Look within yourself. Is it not there already? And we can go there any time as long as our hearts are true, as long as they beat as one.

CHAPTER 2

The silence was broken by the persistent chirruping of Rafael’s alarm.

It’s Sunday. Do you have to go to work? she murmured.

Go back to sleep. It’s Monday, and I have horses to take care of.

Monday already? Too many things were happening too quickly. Maggie lay stroking the fur of her beloved coat, looking up at the skylights in the ceiling, trying to remember where she was exactly. Then memories and reality flooded her mind. She and Rafael were living in a flat over the barn at Forster’s Racing stable. They were lucky to have anywhere to live after Edith Hastings had evicted her from her cottage. She had absolutely no money. She had spent it all on the airfare to Prince Edward Island, and she still hadn’t signed the contract that her employer, John Stokes, was dangling in front of her.

Wait, let Michael look at it first had been Rafael’s advice to her. You are a lawyer; soon to be a wealthy one. Let Stokes sweat it out for a bit.

So she had taken full advantage of John Stokes’s offer to pay for a one-time visit to Hermione’s Dress Shop. It’s on me, he had said guiltily. I am so sorry; please forgive me.

She was sure that John was kicking himself. If only he’d known she was the heiress to the Nightingale estate, things would have been very different. Maybe his Brian would have had a chance with her.

It had been the very first time she had ventured into Hermione’s, a shop whose prices placed it far out of her reach. She had begged Rafael to stop that very morning on their way to Sirisa’s. Please, Raffy, she had said. There is a coat in the window …. She had been lusting after it for weeks.

Madam Hermione had seen the Mercedes parked outside and had opened the door for them. I thought it might have been Mr. Stokes, she said. He is a customer of mine. She regarded them both as if she could not understand why they were driving his car. When neither of them enlightened her, she informed them she was just leaving to help Barbara Nightingale with the funeral arrangements for David. Barbara is a personal friend of mine. She was a tall, large-boned woman, her hair tied back in a bun, wearing a black skirt and a long jacket belted tightly at the waist.

Maggie knew that Madam Hermione’s family had been in Roystone just as long as had the Nightingales and that she thoroughly enjoyed letting everyone know of this fact and therefore of her superior breeding. Mr. Stokes called and told me to allow you to charge anything you wished to his account. Perhaps Madam’s chauffeur would like to wait outside, she said to Rafael, who promptly retreated to the Mercedes.

Madam Hermione had a voice with a distinct nasal accent, and she had regarded Maggie with a definite look of disapproval. Cynthia will take care of you. Cynthia, be sure and lock up well. With these parting words, she was out the door.

The first thing that Maggie tried on was the black and silver faux fur coat. It was beautiful, and it fitted her so perfectly that she almost cried. She couldn’t believe it could really be hers.

Cynthia, who was wearing a pair of tight black trousers and whose ample bosom was longing to escape from its confinement in an equally tight chartreuse blouse, was ecstatic to help her. Is he really your live-in Russian lover? she asked, giggling. We all think he’s ever so ’and some. Of course, he looks different now than when he was in the army. His hair’s much longer. But he was ever so kind to me when I was having some trouble with my young man. You should have heard what Madam was saying about you before you got here.

What was that? Maggie thought she was resigned to whatever Madam should be thinking of her. Besides, she was more interested in finding something warm to wear. Roystone’s winds were cutting her to the bone after the heat of the island.

That she couldn’t understand why you was associating with the likes of Rafael Ivanovich, but after all, you was no better than you should be. She’d heard you had a bun in the oven.

But what could possibly make her think that? Maggie discovered she wasn’t resigned at all.

She heard it from the Reverend Durham’s wife at the women’s auxiliary just yesterday.

Maggie sighed, surrendering the rest of her reputation. She admired Cynthia’s slacks and had to have a pair. Wool? And a sweater. And do you have any outrageous underwear? she asked Cynthia. She had to have some of those too. Blue. Blue was Rafael’s favorite color.

Cynthia helped her out to the car with all her packages, saying, I’ll order everything else for you. She was bending over to load them into the back seat when Maggie noticed Rafael raising his eyebrows appreciatively at the view.

Gifts freely given should always be received graciously, he told her. Now, not to be jealous. I only looked. We’re to go to my flat at Forster’s. Sirisa just called. No one knows about the flat. The press are besieging her. And there’s a riot at the Dog and Duck Inn. One of the reporters made a negative comment about psychics. The locals present took offense, and the police have been called. And Lisa has left food on the top step of the barn.

The very next morning they’d had breakfast with Sirisa and Reynaldo. The Dog and Duck had delivered enough food to last them for days. But it wasn’t the food Maggie was concentrating on. It was the family she was marrying into that was so different from her own. They were so outspoken. She wasn’t used to it, and she found it embarrassing. She was sure that Reynaldo was Sirisa’s lover. His brown twinkling eyes were very aware. She immediately blocked any ideas he might have of stepping over her mental lines and into her mind and her memories. He hadn’t tried, had he? She wasn’t sure.

The afternoon had been semi-successful, she thought. The meeting with her grandfather, one that she had been dreading, had gone well. Rafael’s belief that John and Edith Hastings would let her have Lady, her dog, had turned out to be false. They had found no one home at the farm, although Maggie was sure she could hear Lady whining for her. What had broken her heart was a note on the door of her cottage informing her that she had until the end of the month to vacate the property.

With heavy hearts, she and Rafael had packed the Mercedes with as many of her personal possessions as possible for the return journey to Sirisa’s.

But where shall we put everything? she had asked him. Where?

Your furniture will have to go into storage. Everything else, Sirisa says to leave in my sister Irina’s room.

Maggie had always known that there was a missing room in Sirisa’s home. There had to be because the outside of the house was larger than the inside. Rafael held his mobile computer in front of the wall opposite to his bedroom, and a pocket door slid open.

Oliver’s been trying to find this for years, he said. He’s always been convinced that Mom has secret computers where she keeps all the information on all of her clients. The good D.I. is way behind the times. He’s convinced they tell her things, and of course he is right, they do, but all the old computers are not in use anymore. Mom will not share the information on her clientele with anyone.

Inside the large room were a bed, a chest of drawers, and a desk with an old outdated printer on it. It was such a sad room, Maggie thought. Forlorn, existing in permanent twilight. A room filled with unfinished dreams. Outside the French doors was a small garden choked with weeds. The garden was surrounded by high walls, and the high walls kept the bright sunlight from entering the room.

Mom walled this room off after Irina died, Rafael said sadly. In the cupboard are all the old files. Irina used to work with her. They were so close. All three of us were.

They piled all her clothing on the bed. Maggie didn’t know why, but she put her white poodle pajama case on the pillow and her chess set on the bedside table. On an impulse she set the pieces up and made the first move, with a white pawn, and asked curiously, Your mother walled the room off because?

Because Irina’s is a restless spirit. Perhaps she feels cheated out of a life that should have been hers. You’ll see if you come in here often enough. She makes her presence known. You are the first person that Sirisa has shared this room with. Irina’s death was all hushed up, he said bitterly. There was nothing we could do. We were nobody then, just gypsies. He checked his watch. We’ll have to get my car tomorrow. We have one more trip to make today, to my brother’s for afternoon tea.

CHAPTER 3

Maggie had always believed that families consisted of loving relationships between brothers and sisters and parents and must have a home where all could gather. A place where they could all share their lives and their values. She had been so looking forward to meeting Rafael’s brother Neil and his wife, Carmen. Bettina, Sirisa’s sister, had been invited too. She was supposed to be having a happy family tea with all of them, but from the moment Neil opened the front door, she sensed trouble. Little fingers of apprehension began to creep up and down her spine.

The house was in a subdivision not far from the convention center. It was a detached two-story, three-bedroom brick home on a road of similar detached homes, each with a fenced back garden and a patch of grass in front.

There were two cars already parked in the driveway, so Rafael parked the Mercedes on the road, and as he turned off the engine, he said to her, Remember what you said last night, that you love me and that you’ll marry me? His face was close to hers, his lips on her cheek. She closed her eyes. The night they had spent together had been heaven, absolute heaven. She was in complete agreement with him until she heard him say, For better or for worse?

Her blue eyes opened wide. She found herself gazing into his gray ones. His face was carefully expressionless. This may be the worst bit. You know I love you, so let me do all the talking, okay?

As soon as the door was opened, Neil, who made at least two of Rafael, embraced his brother in a bear hug. He carried him off into the living room, where he proceeded to punch him on the chin, in a jovial kind of way.

Carmen was as petite as Neil was blond and overbearing. She had dark hair and a quiet demeanor. Maggie admired the kitchen and the living room with its obviously new furniture. All on the never never, said Carmen proudly.

While Neil and Rafael went out into the back garden to kick the ball with the three boys, who looked to be aged about eight, five, and three, Maggie went into the kitchen to help Carmen with the tea.

Bettina—she’s Sirisa’s sister—and Julie, her daughter, will be here in a little while, Carmen told her.

Will Sirisa be here soon also? Maggie wanted to know if it was true that Sirisa was not allowed to see her grandchildren.

Carmen was busy taking out plates from the cupboards and carrying them into the dining room. When I met Neil, it was before Sirisa became a psychic, she said. Psychics are not allowed in my church. She put the chocolate éclairs onto a plate and carefully set out paper napkins for everyone. You know of, course, all about Rafael, that he is a wizard and that I only allow him here because of his brother, she said firmly.

Maggie said nothing and retreated to sit on a window seat in the dining room where she could watch the boys in the garden. Her mind was whirling. Carmen thought that Rafael a wizard? Neil was built like a wrestler. He was competing with Rafael for the ball, aggressively pushing him out of the way. Which of the two men, Rafael or Neil, she wondered, was more like their father, a man whom Rafael had adored and who had abandoned his family for another woman? Had he met her on trips to Russia? Had he waited for Rafael, the youngest of the four children to be sixteen before deciding never to return to England?

Carmen put her head outside the back door and announced that tea was ready. Neil came into the room first and sat across from Maggie at the dining table, his eyes fixed on hers. She poured the tea for everyone, passed plates around, and helped herself to a chocolate éclair.

You are little bro’s lover, Neil said aggressively. We read all about you in the paper. He was here that night you know, got himself drunk on vodka. He looked at his brother, who was sitting next to Maggie, and said loudly. He picked himself a winner this time. Not like the last one.

Rafael rolled his eyes and said nothing, and Maggie kept silent. Was Neil talking about Angela, the one who had returned to Australia, brokenhearted? Instinctively she knew that there was trouble brewing. Neil’s mind was reaching out to hers. Mentally she put up the shutters and barred the doors.

You two have fun on the island? he queried her.

There’s no problem, Neil, said Rafael in a conciliatory voice. You know I’ll always be able to help you financially.

Ms. Granger, said Carmen, anxious to keep the peace, Neil’s garage is doing so well. This house is just what I always wanted, and Neil has bought me so much furniture. There’s the kettle boiling. Let me bring you some more tea, and I have more chocolate éclairs in the kitchen.

Before Maggie could rise to go in the kitchen, to escape whatever was brewing, Neil had shifted into Carmen’s chair at the head of the table next to her. With Rafael on the other side there was no escape. What did happen on the island? Neil was insistent. You can tell me. Baby Bro and I have no secrets from each other.

Maggie glanced at Rafael. His face was a mask.

Were you at David Nightingale’s party? he persisted.

Why wouldn’t Neil let it go? Maggie almost panicked. Under no circumstances could Neil see what happened that night. Under no circumstances could he know the truth about David’s death.

Were you there? Was Baby Bro there?

She felt him prying on the edges of her mind. What else was it he wanted to know? Her heart sank when she realized that it wasn’t only the tarn he wanted to see but her lovemaking with Rafael on the island.

That afternoon on the island was her most precious memory. That Neil wanted to invade her privacy was repulsive for any reason, but no one was ever going to see her making love with Raffy on the pink sand, lying naked beneath the yellow umbrella and swimming in the blue water.

Leave well enough alone, Neil, warned Rafael. He was looking from one to the other of them. She knew he could see the two red spots, one on each of her cheeks, warning signs of trouble to come. Don’t do this. Let’s go back outside and play with the boys.

It’s called privacy, Maggie said to Neil. Do you understand? Rafael’s and mine. How dare you pry?

He and I have no secrets, Neil insisted.

Maggie glanced at Rafael. His face was carefully turned away. Neil was so unlike Rafael, who would never have behaved like this. So Neil must be like his father, arrogant and selfish, and so unlike his mother Sirisa. Was this why people in the town thought him unpleasant? Did he enjoy secretly looking into people’s minds and seeing their private lives, the private thoughts? Was that what made people feel uneasy about him? She suspected he enjoyed putting them onto a petri dish and peering.

Perhaps I will show you. What is it you want to see, Neil? she asked quietly, and her tone made Rafael flinch. Or should I say who?

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