Coveley Castle

1

Ramsgate, England, 1896.

Sixty years after the Coveley castle's fire.

The old man filled his pipe in silence. "Do you really want me to tell you what happened, Detective? Let's leave the past behind. What's the point of reliving that now? The dead must rest."

"I understand how you feel, sir. And I'm sorry to bother you with questions, given your age. But with the greatest respect, let me insist. The new owners of the property have commissioned me to carry out this investigation. They're willing to pay for their trouble, and a hefty sum, in case you want to know," If Detective Ralph Fisher expected any nod from the old man, he was disappointed. The old man gave him such a hard look that he feared he had irremediably offended him.

Fisher was frightened by the possibility that the old man would refuse to speak another word, thus forcing him to turn back without completing the mission entrusted to him.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, before insisting in a different tone of voice, so kind that it was almost an entreaty, "As you understand, my clients want to know the truth about the stories that run about the fire and deaths. And you were there then. You were a witness, right?"

"Of course I was there—"

Detective Fisher was all ears. The old man sitting opposite him seemed to be absent for a moment. His whole face of dry and wrinkled skin underwent a change and the Detective knew that he was remembering. This man had the answers he had come for. Fisher licked his lips in anticipation of the money he would collect when he filed his report.

The old man stood up briskly and walked to the window. He seemed to hesitate. He looked at the sea for a long time, in silence. The Detective thought he was torn between fear and greed, but couldn't be more wrong.

The old man was mesmerized by his memories. For the first time in years, it was all coming back to him.

Coveley. The old castle with its high walls, the stone icons that guarded the entrance. He closed his eyes and saw it again, solid, imposing, surrounded by green forests. From the depths of memory came to him a soft murmur of the trees that morning that his mother took him to live in the castle...

Suddenly the prospect of having an audience was more important than the reluctance to talk about the unfortunate events that had prompted him to leave Coveley.

He was nodding as if to himself, his lips pursed in a determined grin.

He turned to look at Fisher, snorted the doubts away, took two quick steps to the table and sat down again in front of the man, studying him intently as he puffed on his pipe.

Fisher was not intimidated.

Finally the old man seemed convinced that the time had come to put an end to a century and a half of secrets and intrigue.

He smiled crookedly, and slapping his leg jovially announced, "It's a long story, Detective. And it didn't start the day the castle burned down and Ellen Paige left town. It started long before those deaths."

Fisher's eyes widened, and the old man leaned back, smiling. It was obvious that he was enjoying it.

"Before the fire, you say? Who is that woman?" The Detective was frowning, confused, but more interested than ever, "The records do not mention anyone by the name of Ellen Paige."

He took out a notebook and a sharp pencil, ready to write down those answers on paper, and encouraged him to continue, "Please tell me what exactly happened."

"Don't take notes now, Detective, just listen to me," said the old man, firmly, but without losing his smile. With his eyes gleaming with mischievous anticipation, he stated, "I will tell you the story of that unfortunate woman and give you the details you need to write that report."

He paused to make sure of the effect his words were having on Fisher, then added:

"But before that, I must tell you something about the Coveleys. They were a family with a lot of history and they carried away many secrets, believe me. Some of them lived very happy moments, like the beloved Lady Elizabeth. And others were always unfortunate, you see? But let me start at the very beginning—"