Guardian Angel

The Guardian Angel

by Ian Johnstone

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Ian Johnstone

Published by Strict Publishing International

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

CHAPTER ONE

Surely that was someone standing near the rosebush?

No, his mother had no friends in the house today… adoptive mother, Douglas corrected himself. His mother had died when he was three, and Douglas could remember very little about her. Her closest cousin Lady Stanley and her husband Lord Stanley had adopted him, and now he lived in their mansion with free rein to roam the huge gardens. His schooling was from private tutors that visited the mansion near Kelso, Scotland, for half a day on three days each week. Lord Stanley was away most of the time – his work as a financier taking him all over the world – and, as much as Douglas was well taken care of and very much loved Lady Stanley, who he called ‘mother’, he was lonely. He desperately wanted friends of his own age.

That was someone standing by the rosebush just out of the wooded area at the end of the garden… a girl, he was certain.

His mother was calling him for the evening meal, but Douglas’s curiosity had been aroused and he headed down the garden again, stopping by the rhododendron bush that, along with the creeping rose, took up a vast area just before the trees.

There was no one.

Douglas looked in every direction, shaking his head in confusion. He could not have imagined it.

Hello? Is there anyone here? he asked cautiously, hoping to hear a reply, but all that could be heard was the sound of insects and the chirping of birds.

He stared at the empty space behind the rose bush, almost wishing for someone to either answer or appear, and then stepped a few paces to his left to look inside the ornate iron gazebo, but behind all the climbing plants that covered the ironwork it was empty.

Douglas!

He heard his mother call his name once more, urging him to resume his journey back to the house.

The head housekeeper was looking out of the door when he arrived. Oh, there you are, Douglas. Your mother was worried. She sent me to find out where you were.

Meg, are there any other houses near this one with children my age in them?

Meg thought for a moment before answering, Not that I know of. Why are you asking?

I thought I saw someone near the rose bush at the end of the garden. At first, I thought my mother might have friends over and one of them had gone into the garden, and then I thought it must be someone else.

Meg looked up at the small clouds crossing the sun, hiding its rays now and then. It was most probably shadows at this time of day, and your eyes were playing tricks.

* * * * *

Douglas went into the lounge where his adoptive mother was sitting at the table. Ah, there you are, Douglas. Didn’t you hear me calling you?

Yes, Mother, but I thought I saw someone by the big rose bush near the rhododendron at the bottom of the garden and I went to find out who it was. Meg said it was the shadows playing tricks with my eyes, but she looked very real.

She? his mother queried.

Yes, it looked like a girl, about the same age as me, but her clothes were a little strange.

How do you mean ‘a little strange’? Do you mean she was wearing foreign clothes?

Douglas thought about it before answering. No, I think they were Scottish, but very old fashioned. If it was the shadows playing tricks with my eyes, I would not have thought I could have seen so much detail about her. She looked so real, so… alive.

His mother was now looking concerned. Were you frightened, Douglas?

Why would you think I would be frightened, Mother?

Well, this is a very old house and gardens… his mother answered cautiously, looking as though she was considering her words very carefully.

Douglas smiled, and asked, Do you think she might have been a ghost?

His mother looked straight at him and saw that he was smiling. She returned his smile. Yes, I did think that for a moment, but it’s a really silly thought, isn’t it?

* * * * *

There was no more spoken about the girl as they had their evening meal, and she was quickly forgotten. Later that night, Douglas went to his room, leaving his mother down in the dining room. He sat down at his desk where he did his schoolwork, although the formal lessons from his tutors were always held in the drawing room. They always left him plenty of work to do and to revise, and Douglas usually did it in the evenings before he went to bed.

Douglas opened the top drawer and pulled out a light coloured wooden box. It was about the same size as a shoebox. On the edges of the lid was an ornate inlay of different coloured veneers, and in the centre of the lid was the word Legacy written in large italics. He lifted the hinged lid and looked at the contents, although there was not very much in there and what was there was as much of a mystery to him as it had been on the first day he looked inside.

He could see a small, rolled up scroll that looked ancient but was in fact modern. It was six inches in length, with strange writing that could be seen when it was opened out. He had tried to read it every time he took it out of the box, without success. It was written in a foreign language, and one that he certainly had not mastered. In fact, he still did not know what language it was. He had looked at it so many times with the same questioning eyes, and every time it made him more frustrated. Without unrolling it, this time, he placed it to one side of the box before he looked again at the other pieces.

There was a key with a label that had more confusing writing on it, but at least it was in English.

"This is a key to your destiny and the Stuart legacy. One word is needed for the Lord of the horses to follow the trail."

It was signed: Robin Beatrice Stuart. Stirling.

Douglas had always believed that was his mother’s name. His surname was Stuart, which he had kept when he was adopted, it also being his adoptive mother’s maiden name. The ‘Sterling’ at the end must have been the surname of his father who, for some reason, his mother had never married. What the key unlocked he had no idea, because it was not like a normal house key or even a drawer key.

He placed the key next to the scroll, and picked up a heavy, solid cube. He had no idea what this was, but it was glazed or very highly polished. It was rectangular, two inches deep by four inches long and three inches wide, made of what Douglas thought was green marble. There was nothing on the cube that told him what it was for – or, for that matter, why it was there, but this was one of the strange items that his mother had left him. At one end of the cube was a faint engraving of what looked like half a crest, with a horse at the side of a half shield. Douglas had looked at all the clan badges and crests, but none had anything similar on it.

Douglas placed the block to one side with the key, and picked up the scroll again. The words on the scroll were also written in italics, and he had read them so many times that he almost knew them by heart.

"Die Karte wird den Weg in die Burg Schloss zu zeigen, wenn Sie verlassen."

Douglas let the scroll close on its own, once again leaving him with a frown on his face. Lowering his hand into the box, he lifted the last remaining item. It was a small envelope with writing on the front, but this too was a mystery to him. This writing was also in italics: ‘Insel-Schloss’. Inside was a silver coin in a plastic presentation case. There were two side-profile heads on the face, of a man and a woman. He had taken a photo of it to a coin collector who said it was very rare and was worth a considerable amount of money. He had informed Douglas that it was a silver Ryal. The side profiles were of Mary Queen of Scots and Lord Darnley, with the date 1565. It had been struck to commemorate their marriage.

On the back of the presentation case was a square scratched on the dark plastic. There was on one end on the inside of the square another smaller square. On the opposite corner was a small circle with a cross in the middle. Douglas placed it back in the box with the other items, and closed the lid.

There was a gold cross on top of the desk, but not on a gold chain. A thin, black woven silk cord ran through the eye of the cross. Douglas had been given it a few months before, on his fifteenth birthday. It had been a present from his mother and had been kept in his adopted father’s safe for that day. There had once been a note with the cross that had also been in a presentation box. Douglas had destroyed it, but he had memorised the content.

Dear Douglas Ahearn,

By the time you see this, I will have been dead twelve years and it is your fifteenth birthday. I am thinking that by now you have looked at that box of items many times. Each time you have been probably wondering if I was making some kind of sick joke. I assure you that I would never do such a thing to my only son, and the heir to the Stuart fortune. There is a large sum of money in a bank, held in trust, and you will be given full details on your eighteenth birthday. You have probably already been told that you are the owner of Stuart House in the highlands. The house is of great importance to you in the future.

Each item in that box will help you solve the mystery of the Stuart legacy that has been in our family for many years. I solved the mystery to the legacy, but knowing of my forthcoming death I have had to keep it secret. The items in the box are all clues, and they will take you to your destiny and the legacy. The truth about the Stuart legacy has always been kept secret. No one knows the full details, and I would not trust others to find it for you. No one, other than the true heir, has ever been privy to the information that will take you to the legacy. It is yours alone to find.

There will be someone who will help you to reach your destiny safely, but you alone will know who that someone is. It is time to ask your adopted mother all about me, as she has had a letter instructing her to answer your questions.

Please, for your own safety destroy this letter, because there will be those that would wish to cheat you of your inheritance if they only knew what you were searching for. The cord attached to the cross is the original and must stay with the cross. It is unique in a way that only you will know. To all others it is only gold. Sleep with it, and follow its secrets."

"Your loving Mother."

Douglas had done as his mother had asked of him, and he burned the letter not long after he had read it. The only thing he had not done was to ask about his mother, not out of fear but because he had forgotten about doing so. He slipped the gold cross cord over his head before he got ready for bed. He had never placed it over his head before, and he could feel its weight against his chest.

* * * * *

That night, Douglas dreamed. He was standing on a walkway several metres above the ground, with a sheer drop into a courtyard on his left and a wall at shoulder height on his right. The structure was made of large pieces of grey stone, of the sort he had seen in old buildings and churches. There was a slapping noise coming from the other side of the wall, and curiosity got the better of him.

He felt compelled to look the other side of the wall, and what he saw was a shock to him. There was a sea of rough water, but for some reason he believed he was not on the coast. Land could be seen a long way off in the distance, which gave him the impression that he was on either an island or on one side of a wide river.

Douglas turned his head to look down into the courtyard. Towards the rear, behind where he was standing, he could see what he thought was a small dwelling. There were longer buildings running along the side of the walkway wall below him. To the other side of the courtyard there was a tall, square building with wooden steps leading to a doorway. Looking at the position of the windows, he estimated it to be at least five storeys. There were dull, flickering lights coming from three of the windows, either from candles or perhaps burning torches.

The day was coming to an end as Douglas looked up to see a dark cloud rushing over the sky, propelled by a fierce wind. Although he could not feel the wind, it was obvious from the way the water slapped at the walls that there was at least a strong breeze even at ground level. At some time, he could see that it had been snowing, enough to leave a light dusting on the ground. The snow on the walkway was reflecting a little light back, but soon the moon was covered by the cloud.

Douglas moved forward along the walkway, feeling as though he was gliding more than walking. He heard noises below as three men appeared from a doorway in the long building. They were each carrying a burning torch, and after a few words that Douglas could not hear they walked off in different directions. Each time one of the men came close to a torch on the side of the wall, it was lit, and in no time at all the courtyard was shimmering in a flickering half light. The flames were reflecting on the thin coating of snow and, as he watched, Douglas shivered in his sleep.

There was snow on what he knew now to be the castle battlements, and some of the snow had landed on the stones where he was walking. It was then he noticed footprints below in the new snow covering the courtyard. They were small, like those of a young girl, and not at all like those of a man would look. He looked over the wall at the water slapping against the walls of the castle. On seeing the small waves being blown by the wind only made the night feel that much colder. Douglas could not feel the coldness of the night, but the sense of seeing the elements made him shiver in his sleep once more.

He heard a rustling noise, which made him turn his head quickly to the left. Down in the courtyard he saw a woman in a long dress that trailed on the ground behind her. As she walked close to the light, Douglas could just see that the dress was a light red with thin gold cord embroidered on top of the material. The cord had been sewn over the material in a way to make it look like squares.

She was walking around the courtyard following the walkway. Although she was looking towards Douglas, she appeared indifferent to him being there. It was as if she was looking straight through him at something else. As the woman reached the corner of the walkway, she stopped and turned into what he assumed was a doorway.

The most striking thing about the woman, even at this long distance, was her beauty. She had a heavy cloak around her shoulders with a headscarf pinned to her hair. It was only an instant before she appeared again and was walking towards him. Douglas could see her lips moving as she approached, and he heard her say, The night is cold, George. Now, it seemed, she had seen him and for some reason had addressed him as ‘George’.

Douglas watched as she came closer still, talking but now too quietly for him to hear what she was saying, and then suddenly in the courtyard below a boy appeared in front of her. When they were closer together, he said, You should not be out here, my Lady. Let me escort you to your room. Moments later they became a blur in his dream, moving away from where he was standing, and Douglas was left in a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

The following morning at breakfast, Douglas asked, Can you tell me anything about my mother? I really know very little about her or what she did.

"I have been wondering when you would ask me a question like this, and I will try to answer with all the knowledge that I know about her. To me, your mother was my first cousin and we were very close. We both went to the same university but studied different subjects.

"While at college, she found out that she had a gift for solving cryptic clues. There were a lot these types of clues used in the car rallies we participated in. Not only was she good at working them out, but also she had correspondence with a leading newspaper. Now and again they would ask her to write cryptic clues for their crosswords.

"She qualified as a history graduate and was top of her class, specialising in Scottish history. Although both of our surnames are Stuart, only your mother’s was steeped in history. We were in our last year at college when her life changed and she became more serious. We had the same lodgings in Stirling. I would be forever returning home after a night out, and find her curled up with a book or writing in one of her many folders.

In that last year, she spent some time visiting mediums and mystics, but I have no idea why. I did ask her once, and I remember her saying that it was a project she was working on. She never visited the same one twice, and I also asked her why that was. Her answer was strange. She said, I don’t want them knowing too much about my life." Your mother never told me anything about the project, if that’s what is really was, or whether what she was doing was connected with one of the many courses she was enrolled in.

"In that same final year she decided to learn German, but I am not sure for what reason. She could already speak French almost as fluently