Secret Of The Manor by Taylin Clavelli

off early rather than put in an extra step.
    Since the joust, Warren hadn’t been to Little Walmsley. He still felt the pull of the place, but he refused to give in until he knew more about the situation.
    On the following Tuesday, while at work, Warren received a call on his private mobile. It was James. After initial greetings, James launched into an explanation. “Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I’ve been trying to get things sorted. Father is rather worried and prefers to keep matters closer to his chest. I’m glad to say he believes you.”
    “That’s reassuring.” Warren was relieved that James had called, but after his dismissal at the manor he was less inclined to speak freely.
    “Anyway, I was wondering if it would be possible to meet up tomorrow. I have something more concrete for you.”
    “Of course. What time would you like me at the manor?”
    “Yes, well. Erm, I was hoping we could meet at your cottage.”
    “Why?”
    “I’ll explain tomorrow, if that’s alright?”
    That statement, along with more than a touch of nervousness in James’ voice, suggested the Walmsleys had something to hide.
    Warren thought it best to stay formal, despite the nervous sound in James’ voice. “I’ll be home by seven.”
    “Splendid. See you then.”
    That night Warren left earlier than usual to make sure his cottage was presentable. It wasn’t every day one had a visit from the heir to a lordship. He also called Carl, who insisted on being in attendance.
    On Wednesday, twenty-four days after his meeting at the manor, at seven on the dot, a knock echoed through the house. Carl was relaxing with a laced coffee, and Warren was as nervous as a newborn colt. He jumped up and headed for the door.
    When he opened it, James stood there with another man at his shoulder, shadowed by the darkness of autumn. It seemed James had brought along backup, too.
    “Please come in.”
    “Thank you.”
    As the two men entered the cottage, one with his head held high, the other gazing at the floor, Warren took a closer look. James’ companion was thinner and younger, with short blond hair. He had well-developed shoulders, a long neck, and looked in good shape.
    “Make yourselves at home.”
    James answered for both. “Thank you.”
    As they entered the lounge, all were surprised when Carl gasped, “Bless my soul. Long time no see, young man. How you doing, Alexander?”
    The young man moved to leave, but was held firmly in place by James, who answered for his brother. “Fine, thank you, Carl. I’m sorry. We should have expected to see you here after Mr. Blake came to us the other week.”
    By the time everyone was seated, nerves dominated the atmosphere. Especially, it seemed, with Alexander, who perched on the edge of his chair.
    James swallowed and kept a hand on his brother. “As nice as this is, I’d better introduce everyone. “Carl we all know, but Mr. Blake, may I formally introduce my brother, Alex.” At that moment, the young man looked up, and Warren gasped. He knew those eyes. Warren was lost for words as James continued, “
He
is the swan.”

C hapter N ine
    FOR A good while Warren and Carl sat stunned, mouths agape, unable to form words from the multiple questions queuing to be answered. Yet none traversed the invisible gates barring access to any sense, verbal or otherwise, that could make contact with the men from the manor.
    Alex shifted uncomfortably, while James eyed Carl and Warren, analyzing their reaction. At one point Alex attempted to jump to his feet and make an exit, but James held him firm. “Give them a minute,” he calmly advised.
    “They’re not going to accept it,” Alex argued.
    “They came to us, remember. And they want answers. No one said they’d be easy to believe.”
    It was Carl who recovered first. “Jesus Christ!”
    He was quickly followed by Warren, whose mood had shifted to anger. “Are you taking the piss? Is this some sort of joke? I come to you with