The Haunting of Ripewood Manor

by Clara Cody

  When he turned to the bar for her glass of water, she returned to scanning the room. The large windows let in more light than in the foyer, but it was still difficult for her to pick out most faces through the gloom. After ruling out most of them, she was left with two possibilities; a man in the corner whose face and torso were covered by a newspaper and a man with his back to Stephanie.

  Before she could ruminate further on which one he might be, Charles returned with a glass of water. It wasn't until she saw the food in front of her that she realized just how nauseous she really was. Even something as mild as bread managed to churn her stomach.

  "Drink this and try to eat something. You'll feel better. Wait for me here," he said. "I shouldn't be long."

  She nodded, taking a sip of her water. When she looked over, the man in at the corner table folded the edge of his newspaper down, revealing his left eye. She nodded at Mr. Bixley and he nodded back and recovered his face with the newspaper.

  Stephanie tore off a piece of bread and popped it into her mouth. Chewing slowly and methodically, she glanced over her shoulder. Charles was speaking amiably with the clerk at the desk as Rebecca stood to the side, looking green. She took another sip of water.

  Mr. Bixley was staring at her, his newspaper folded on his lap and his head cocked to the side. He looked down at the newspaper and tore off a piece.

  Stephanie studied the patrons. No one seemed to notice the two people at opposite ends of the restaurant so intent on each other. Rebecca was gone from Charles's side and he was speaking with another man. A grim and serious looking man with a black, bushy beard and small, closely set eyes.

  When she looked back, Mr. Bixley was walking towards her, holding his hat in his hand. She chewed her lip, wondering what he was planning.

  As he passed, he dropped a folded piece of paper onto the table and put his hat on, pulling it down to cover his face as he walked through the foyer.

  Stephanie scrambled for the note.

  Outside, to the left.

  Stephanie crumpled the note and tossed it to the floor.

  "I think you were right," Stephanie said as she approached Charles. "I think fresh air would be for the best."

  Charles looked startled by her presence. She looked from Charles to his companion and back again. He gave no hint he would introduce them.

  "Yes," he responded. "That's fine. Wait for me by the carriage."

  She nodded and turned, making her way towards the door. She looked at him again over her shoulder, but he was already deep in conversation.

  Trying hard to look casual, Stephanie rounded the corner into the ally next to the hotel. Like the last time, Theodore Bixley paced the ground between the two buildings. She cleared her throat as she stepped into the ally.

  "Miss Kitling, thank you for speaking to me." He stopped pacing and gestured her closer. Turning his hat in his hands, he waited patiently as she approached.

  "Mr. Bixley, I—"

  "Please," he said, extending a hand. "Call me Teddy." He smiled warmly passed the strain in his eyes.

  "Very well...Teddy." She glanced over her shoulder. She was far enough from the mouth of the ally that, if she spoke quietly, no one would hear a thing. "I have to ask you; how far back do these maid's disappearances reach?"

  He puffed his cheeks out, blowing hard through his mouth. "I don't know, actually. The earliest one I've found was fifteen years ago, but I suppose there could be more. I'll look into it." He looked over her shoulder, down the alley, wringing his hat. "Perhaps we should speak of this more...privately." He looked at the wall of the hotel and gestured to a wooden staircase climbing the side. "My room is at the top."

  Stephanie's eyes widened and she stepped back. "I hardly think that's appropriate for—"

  Theodore rolled his eyes. "That's not what...I meant that maybe we shouldn't be talking about such things out in the open. I hardly think that's appropriate."

  "Oh...well, I can't," she said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Charles is expecting me to wait by the carriage."

  "Charles would be the ox that interrupted our first conversation?"

  "He is not an ox."

  "He has you waiting for him by his coach like a good little serving maid, doesn't he? Perhaps barbarian would be more fitting."

  "No, it wouldn't. And I'm not a good little maid, thank you very much. It's only that...well I might be able to explain why I'm here in the alley but I certainly couldn't explain why I disappeared into your room for god knows how long." She was getting frustrated. Time was short, and now they were bickering over their location. "What have you learned, Teddy? Anything else?"

  "I know your secret, Stephanie."

  Her stomach dropped like a stone.

  "As I said, I thought there was more to the story than what Mrs. Burbank told me so I did a little digging of my own. She's your sister."

  "Yes. In name, at least."

  "Which means you're a very wealthy woman." He opened his jacket and took out his small notebook and flipped through the pages. "Or you would have been if your parents James and Roberta hadn't been disowned by their families when they eloped. It seems their parents didn't approve of the match and they were forced to start over as commoners. That couldn't have been easy for two people that were used to very comfortable lives."

  "They had each other. That was all that mattered to my father."

  "Why didn't you go running back to your grandparents like your sister? Beg them to let you back into society. You could have had a very different life."

  "Rebecca abandoned my father. I could never do that. I loved him. Please," she said, closing her eyes. She folded her hands over her arms, feeling a chill. "Must we speak of this?"

  "All right, Miss Kitling." He took a step towards her. "I didn't mean to upset you, I just...I want you to know how terrible Mrs. Burbank has treated you and I regret any part I played."

  "That's kind of you, Teddy. Thank you."

  "My pleasure. Very well, what can you tell me about Ripewood? What have you learned? Or seen?"

  Stephanie told him about Victor Callowell, the madman upstairs. He was a sick man and stayed in his room in the north wing with his nurse. Mrs. Callowell spent most of her time in the study, nevermind that the door was locked at all times. She considered mentioning Charles, a former aristocrat who was now caring for a deranged man but thought better of it. Charles had made it very clear that he didn't want any undue attention.

  "Her husband, Victor, have you ever seen him or spoken to him?"

  "No," she lied, hearing his laughter ringing in her ears.

  "And Fredrick? Have you heard anything about him?"

  "Eloise's father? Just that he wasn't a very good man."

  "Fredrick drowned last year in the lake behind the house."

  Stephanie's breath caught in her throat. In her mind was the image of the small house beside the lake that she'd seen in the fountain's water. "A lake?"

  "Of course. Didn't you know about it?"

  Stephanie shook her head. "I barely leave the house."

  "Behind the house, if you follow a small path through the woods, you come to a lake. It's small but incredibly deep. Fredrick had it dug out when his father died and left him the house. Next to the lake, there is a small house. Now, listen carefully, because this is important. I need to have a look around that house but it's locked. I need the keys so I can get inside. It will be a long, black key, and you must give it to me."

  "But...I don't have the key. I didn't even know there was a lake house."

  He folded his arms, cradling his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I see," he said, scraping his chin with the side of his finger. "In that case, you'll have to borrow it."

  "What?" she cried, far too loudly. She threw a look behind her and returned her voice to a whisper. "I can't steal from them. It's illegal and I could get fired for something like that. And besides, it's wrong!"

  "Get a hold of yourself. You don't need to steal it. I will r
eturn it in a day, they will barely notice it was gone. No one ever goes out there anyway."

  "And how do you know that?"

  He looked at her as though looking at a child. "I've been keeping an eye on the house for the past weeks. How else would I know when you left me a message?"

  "Oh...right."

  "Listen, I need to get in that lake house. I can't search the manor for clues, but I can search there. It may be our only chance to uncover something."

  "But how do you know there's even anything out there?"

  "I don't. But I found out that Fredrick spent most of his free time there. He slept there most nights and spent days on the lake. I went there the other day and it looks as though no one's been there since he died. A perfectly good lake house, just a short walk from the house, completely abandoned."

  "That is a bit odd," she said and resumed chewing her lip.

  "Of course it is. Come now, if I don't find anything, no one will know about it but if I do..." He let her figure the rest out for herself. "You must know someone else who has keys that wouldn't notice one that she never uses missing."

  "Oh," she said, wringing her hands. "I suppose I could try."

  He clasped his hands together. "Wonderful. When you have it, put it in this envelope." He pulled a small, yellow envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to her. "And put it inside the hollow in the tree. I'll take it in the morning and have it back to you that evening."

  Stephanie nodded, her forehead beading with sweat. Her heart pounded at the very idea of spiriting away a key from the house.

  She gasped as she heard the front door of the hotel slam shut and heavy footsteps cross the porch. Teddy threw a hand across her, pressing her against the wall of the hotel.

  "I don't care," she heard Charles say. "Do whatever it takes to get it done, Mr. McGregor. We have an agreement."

  "Very well, Charles," said a strange, gravelly voice. "But this is the last time, understand?"

  "Don't be so ungrateful, McGregor. It's not as though you have anything to lose at this point."

  The other man harrumphed. "I'll contact you when they're ready." The man's footsteps carried down the stairs and down the street away from them. Both Stephanie and Teddy breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Stephanie?" Charles called.

  Teddy gestured for her to go and she did. Picking up her skirts, she hurried to the mouth of the alley. She darted out of the alley as quickly as she could to hopefully draw attention away from the alley.

  "There you are! I asked you to stay by the carriage."

  She cast her eyes downward as she approached. "I was feeling ill and thought I might..." she covered her mouth, demurely. "I thought the alley might be a better place if I were sick then crouching in front of the carriage."

  His face softened as he reached out to stroke her cheek. "I'm sorry. I was just worried. Are you feeling better now?"

  She nodded. "Much."

  "Then we should be on our way to the store. The sooner we finish our business there, the sooner we can get back home."

  Taking Charles's hand, she climbed back onto the carriage. With a shake of the reigns, the horses pulled away from the hotel. As they passed the alley, she spared a look back. Teddy stood, staring at her from the shadows. He was right; she had to get the key to the lake house so it could be searched.

  Only he wouldn't be the one searching it.

  Chapter 24

  Eloise

  "A WEEK IS TOO LONG," said Eloise.

  Charles just nodded. "I know. MacGregor's had months and now that we're ready, he's not. I told him as much."

  "And what did he say?"

  "To find someone else, if you wanted."

  Eloise sniffed. "If there were as many disavowed priests as bakers, I would." She sighed, smoothing her hair back. "There's little for it, anyway. We'll just have to wait, like it or not."

  Charles gave her a soft smile. "At least Rebecca's gone. Now, we're in a position where we can wait comfortably."

  Eloise sat back in her chair, observing Charles and mulling over what he'd said. "Comfortable?"

  "Relatively."

  "Do you think this is comfortable for him?" she asked, her eyes flicking upwards.

  Charles shifted. "I didn't mean..."

  "No, of course not. Why would you bother thinking of my husband? After all, he's only the reason you are here at all, isn't he? Unless you have some new interest residing here."

  His brow furrowed at her accusation. "What if I do? So what if I've found some measure of happiness in this godforsaken prison. Is that so terrible? Would you begrudge me that?"

  Eloise stood, leaning against the desk. "I would surely question it. The maid? After everything that's happened? Do you want to agitate him even more?"

  "What does he have to do with it?"

  "You fool! You think he doesn't know about her? That he isn't spending every moment of every day imagining getting his hands around that pretty little neck?"

  "Stop it," he said, disgusted.

  Eloise took a deep breath. "You must forget her, Charles. Anything that could come of it, isn't worth it. You and I both know that."

  "The hell we do," he said, quietly.

  "Leave it alone, Charles."

  "Why?" he cried to her. "Why must I always leave it alone? Why am I the only one undeserving of happiness?"

  "Stop whimpering like a child! This is not a moment for self-pity, and for God's sake, keep your voice down. He can hear you." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "He hears everything. He knows, Charles. He feels it and it feeds him...his sickness. Can't you see that?"

  "That's not true."

  "Think of her, Charles." She looked at him sincerely. "Do you remember Tilly?"

  "Stop," he said, looking away.

  "Do you remember the night she disappeared? Or when we found her body lying on the shore?"

  Charles seethed, his face like glowing red iron. "Of course, I remember."

  "Do you want that to be Stephanie?" She crossed her arms, knowing it was over. He wouldn't fight her about it anymore, not with the image she'd just provided.

  Charles looked at Eloise, his face hardened. Suddenly the fire had gone out and he was now cold, black iron. His eyes were fixed on hers. "I hate you so much," he whispered.

  The simple words cut her deeper than she could show. Her face didn't flinch or move but her stomach dropped.

  Charles gave her one last sneering look and spun around, stomping towards the bookshelf.

  But the situation still nagged at her. "Perhaps it's for the best if we relieve the girl of her position."

  Charles stopped. With his back to her, he turned his head towards his shoulder. He looked back to the bookcase and hung his head, letting his shoulders slump.

  Eloise looked away from Charles and sat at her desk. She flinched as the bookcase slammed shut again, leaving her alone again. She let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding and with it, escaped the minutest cry. Her head dropped into her folded arms on the desk. She gave in and for just a moment, she allowed herself to feel it. What had she become? Was she any better than her father with all his secrets and lies and manipulations?

  After her moment of weakness, she clutched at the fabric of her dress as she forced the emotion back down into the cracks and corners of herself where they could do no harm. She had to be strong, because there was no one else. Charles couldn't be counted on anymore. She was all that remained. She was Victor's only hope of peace. And she would do anything for him.

  Stephanie

  AS STEPHANIE MADE THE long slog up to the servant's quarters, every bone and muscle in her body cried out for rest. But she knew she couldn't. Not yet. If she gave herself any more time to think about stealing the key, she'd manage to talk herself out of it. And Theodore was right; the lake house might be the only place they could search unhindered.

  Stephanie placed her lantern by her bed and slipped out of the bedroom again, resting the door lightly on
the frame. Without the light, the dark hallway seemed to swallow her up. She walked towards Maggie's room, staying to the sides of the hall where the floorboards creaked less. After sharing a wall with her over the past months, Stephanie knew two things about Maggie's sleep habits: that she snored like a bull with a sinus infection, and that it would take a herd of the same such bulls to wake her. Not that she was going to test her luck by being needlessly loud.

  She stopped at the door and waited a moment, listening to Maggie's loud, rolling snores vibrating through the door and walls. After a deep breath settled in her lungs, Stephanie eased the knob, wincing with each dry squeak. Finally, the door came loose, and Stephanie gently pushed it open a crack. Holding her breath, she peered inside.

  A large, oblong lump lay on the bed, rising and falling with each trembling snore. Stephanie waited, watching Maggie for a moment to make sure she wasn't stirring. When she was confident that Maggie was asleep, Stephanie nudged the door open and snuck through, ducking low to the ground.

  Enough light shone in through the window to make out the furniture in the room and from what she could see, the room was the same as hers. Stephanie closed her eyes. If I had keys, I would most likely keep them... Her eyes went straight for the bedside table.

  Chewing her lip, she started towards the bed. As she lifted her back foot, a floorboard gave with it, creaking slowly. Her heart skipped a beat. Stephanie cursed herself for not thinking up a good excuse for sneaking into her room beforehand. Silly girl! As Maggie had said, she had a lot to learn about the business of sneaking.

  A moment passed before Maggie settled in again and Stephanie judged it safe to continue. Slowly, she edged closer to the bed.

  Though the room was terribly dim, she could see enough to know that Maggie's bedside table was cluttered. Dark shadows decorated the top, but it was impossible to identify all the items. She reached forward with trembling hands, praying there wasn't a glass of water or bell or anything else that might make a racket.

  Her fingers lightly grazed over top the scattered objects until her little finger touched cold iron. Her heart practically leaped into her throat. She forced her heart back into her chest and hooked her little finger around the ring. Pulling gently, she lifted the assorted, heavy keys off the nightstand with only a slight jingle of sound. The keyring dangled from her finger in the moonlight. She wrapped her hands around them, muffling the sound and stepped backward from the bed, keeping her eyes on Maggie. She left faster than she'd managed to enter. Once outside, she raced to her bedroom and darted inside.