The Hauntings Of Sugar Hill: The Complete Series

by M. L. Bullock

  My hair had lost its luster. My skin grew wan and pale. The bloom of my youth had vanished, and in its place was a tired husk of a woman. A woman who daily wished for death. I wanted nothing more than to be with my long-dead husband, Chase.

  For a second, laughter rose from the garden and reached the open windows. Again their words eluded me, but their joy rang clear. I chewed on a ragged fingernail, a nasty habit I’d taken up recently. What would Etienne say about my nail chewing?

  Evil old witch. Another unhappy ghost of the past. At least she had the courtesy to stay dead, unlike so many others here at Sugar Hill. I shivered, thinking of the old ghosts that haunted me. Placée, placée… You will die, placée!

  Rising temperatures could not keep the trio of young people indoors, and compared to the limp flowers, Annalee appeared as fresh as a sprig of mint in her light green dress. My daughter’s dark brown hair was silky and shiny, and she wore it in her typical neat fashion, pulled up with only a few tendrils streaming down her narrow back. Although I couldn’t see her green eyes clearly from here, I could tell by her expression that she was happy, delighted to be the center of her companions’ attention, even though her companions were her brothers.

  Because her figure was girlish and slim, the green and white dress flattered my Annalee. The skirts were wide, and the sleeves came to her elbows. She was such a pretty young lady, so clearly oblivious to the struggle she would soon face.

  As perfect as life was for her here at Sugar Hill, the world outside would not be so welcoming.

  She was my daughter, the daughter of a left-hand wife, a placée—and to make matters worse, an unfaithful placée. I felt a new wash of shame. Would this regret and shame ever end? Annalee’s looks were exotic, and even though the practice of plaçage—the taking of a left-hand wife—had been summarily banned here in Belle Fontaine shortly after my marriage to Chase, these types of arrangements quietly continued. Many young men and some older ones, politicians, and members of the growing crowd of well-to-do businessmen had sent letters of introduction hoping to meet the fabled beauty, Annalee Dufresne.

  It would be an advantage to be married to such a lovely girl who was connected with the Dufresnes, a wealthy family that owned practically all of Belle Fontaine. That was thanks in part to Chase’s brilliant business deals, Arthur’s shrewd eye for ships, and my successful silk-trading company.

  They politely wondered if she would be attending the upcoming Quadroon Balls. She would not, I wrote them back furiously, nor would she be available for any such arrangement. I had never told her, but I had it in my heart that Annalee would never marry. Why should she? I was wealthy, thanks to the combined fortunes of Ambrose and Chase. She would want for nothing, nothing at all. She need not be indebted to any man. And I would fend off any so-called suitors as long as necessary, but it was becoming apparent that I could not keep her at Sugar Hill forever. That would not be wise. There was too much left unsaid, too much magic here, magic that had already proven it could turn on you and ruin you. Never believe in magic, I warned myself once when I considered casting a spell against Champion. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t trust magical spells any longer.

  And as if it heard me, the ring on my finger warmed, reminding me that I had promised myself to my soulmate. And that soulmate had not been Chase but his cousin—his brother—Ambrose. I loved one man, my Chase, but in a moment of weakness and hurt, I had pledged myself to another. Now the three of us were locked together in agony, Ambrose dead and still lingering at Thorn Hill, hoping I would come to him there, Chase’s ghost here, trapped in the Mirror Room, waiting to see a reflection of me when the sun went down each day. Surely, we were all in a hell of some sort.

  And when I died, where would I go? And with whom?

  I shook the thought away and studied the trio again. I had raised Champion as Dominick and Annalee’s brother, but he was the son of my Chase and his white wife, Athena. I lost my own dear Champion to a fever when he was but an infant, and Fate had provided me with another, a sullen, dark-eyed little thing his mother had named Morgan. I gave him Champion’s name, a move I have since regretted, in the hopes I could make him mine, but he would never be. I think he resented me. I hadn’t planned on telling him the truth of his parentage, but he found out, thanks to gossiping servants. I tried to show motherly affection to the child at first, but he was always a standoffish creature, not prone to accept or give hugs. He had no desire to receive affection from me, and frankly, I was relieved. I wondered why Athena’s brother would not take him, but he had left the country, and I had no idea where he had gone. I was resigned to caring for the child, and it helped that he looked nothing like his mother. But he could not take the place of my dead son. Although he could be charming when it suited him, he did not make any attempt to warm my heart toward him.

  I’d allowed the snake into my nest, and I would pay for my foolishness. I saw the way Champion looked at Annalee. There would be trouble if I was not attentive to the situation.

  But I had done the right thing. I had honored Chase!

  After all, he was Chase’s blood, and not to blame for his mother. The boy was truly a lost child since Athena was locked away in an asylum. She deserved prison for what she’d done, but the judge had said he was loath to hang a woman. I was sure if I had murdered our mutual husband, I would have been hanged from the highest tree!

  And Annalee? The child born not of my body but of my heart?

  I studied her now as she laughed at something Dominick whispered to her. How happy she was. No, she was not my true daughter, but Flower’s unwanted offspring, a girl fathered by one of her white lovers, was truly mine. I sometimes imagined Annalee was my Minette come back to me in some magical way. Yes, I had to take her in. What would her future have been if I had not? Flower could not have cared for her, and I knew that the astonishingly beautiful little girl with the unusual eyes would have had a dismal future without my intervention. I was delighted to have a girl-child to dote upon.

  Champion would do well to remember that she was his sister, at least formally. But he made no secret of his desire for her. He gazed at her like she was a honey cake and he a starving man. I knew that look.

  I worried as I rubbed the ring on my finger. I’d long since given up the idea of removing it. I suspected I would never be free of the ring. It would always remind me that Fate was against me. Perhaps when I died, the ring and my mother’s spell would no longer hold power over me.

  The magic of it was a tangible thing, very real even now. I turned away from the sight of the three young heads together, whispering about their imagined futures. I knew tragedy lay ahead, but how it would manifest was beyond my ability to discern. I did not have my mother’s skills in this regard. I had only traces of her powers, enough power to know the truth but not enough to do anything about it.

  And what had all her skill done for her? She was dead now. Although her body had never been found after the fire on the Ramparts, she was most certainly dead, burned up in Coquette’s flames that had taken so many. Sulli hadn’t seen that in her looking glass. And she hadn’t perceived how her well-meaning spell, the one she had cast on the ring I wore, bound my soul to Ambrose, my dead lover. But it was Chase I loved, Chase who held my heart. It was Chase, my husband, whom I wanted above all else.

  Hence my search for Chase here in the Mirror Room. I’d seen him here before.

  “Chase…” I whispered into the stale air of the room. He was my true soulmate, though the power of the ring kept him away from me always. If I was patient and the sun shone just right, I could steal a glimpse of him in the afterworld through the third reflection of the mirrors. And just that glimpse kept me going. Daily I waited until the sun hit the mirrors just right, and when the sunlight hovered at the edge of the horizon, I closed my eyes and then opened them—and I would see him. He would see me too since he waited for me with his hand on the table behind me. It was a reflection only. If I turned quickly, he would disappear from my sight. For
those few seconds, I could look upon him and weep. Regret burned white-hot, and once again, I felt the shame of what I’d done. I deserved to feel it.

  And it would be that way again today.

  I would seek him out, but he would always be separated from me. Those eyes would accuse me, and I would wallow in regret. Then I would collapse into the round couch and weep until Annalee or Ingrid came to retrieve me. Annalee rarely came into the Mirror Room anymore, and I could no longer compel her to do so.

  When she was a child, she would look with me, believing that I could see him, but she swore that she never saw anything. She didn’t understand the meaning of it all. How could she? I had never told her the truth. Let her hear the talk about me from another source. Perhaps Dominick. So far, he had not whispered my secrets in her ear. Or had he? She’d become so cold lately, so angry toward me. So what if she thought me a pitiful old woman? But I suspected the ghost of Arthur’s wife had made herself known to my daughter. As a child she would cry in the night, afraid of the old demon that chased her in her dreams. I’d comfort her and lie to her, as a good mother should. “Quiet now, child. There’s nothing there. See?”

  She surprised me today. Her slender frame hovered in the doorway. She wrapped her lace shawl tightly around her shoulders as if she felt a chill in the room that was not there.

  “Mother, come away from the mirror. There’s no one there.” She sounded tired, as if she was the parent and I the child. “Come downstairs and eat something. You look as thin as old Ingrid.”

  Annalee’s windblown hair made her even lovelier. Yes, she was far prettier than I had ever been, even when I had been the Belle of the Quadroon Ball.

  “Mother? Did you hear me?”

  The sunlight vanished quickly, stealing any potential magic with it. The opportunity to see my beloved Chase passed with the moving of the clouds, and now I had to endure another day without looking at his handsome face. I tried not to feel aggravated with my beautiful child, but I did nonetheless. Before I knew what I was saying, the words came tumbling out of my mouth. “You shouldn’t be here!” At that, her face fell.

  I quickly tried to make it up to her. “Annalee, what are you doing here? I thought you were in the garden with your brother and Champion.” I could barely speak his name, I found, without spitting it. She had just been in the garden, hadn’t she? Had I lost track of time again? How long had I been staring into the mirrors? I glanced out the window, but there was no one out there. What did I expect to see? Her ghost? I shivered at the thought. Had I imagined seeing the three of them walking together? How long had I been standing here?

  “Please come and eat supper. Olive cooked a ham, and it smells delicious.”

  My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I’d not eaten today. Had I eaten yesterday? I could not recall.

  “Is Champion staying for supper?”

  “Yes, of course, he is. I invited him.”

  I frowned at her without meaning to. “I am not hungry.”

  “Mother, you can’t continue being cruel to him. Your fasting does no one any good. Do you know how you hurt us with your prejudices? Champion is your son. Can’t you see how this hurts us all? How it hurts me that you refuse to show him even the smallest politeness?”

  “He is a man now, and he has his own home. He doesn’t belong here, Annalee. Send him home. I gave him Thorn Hill.”

  Annalee stamped her foot at me, betraying her immaturity, her youth, her stupidity. “What are you talking about, Mother? See! That is the madness I’m talking about. He is your son, my brother. What has he done to deserve this treatment? If you think he’s been inappropriate in any way…what you’re hinting at is perverse! I won’t listen to another word.”

  I walked to the door, torn between shaking her shoulders and pulling her into my arms. I did neither. I stared down into her pretty face since Annalee was a full two inches shorter than I was. Her full lips pulled up in a pout, and she crossed her arms stubbornly. “You don’t know men like I do, my child. You would do well to listen to me.”

  “Why? So I can become what you are?” Her arms waved furiously now. “A ghost!”

  Without thinking, I slapped her face. The pain in my hand reminded me that I was still alive. Still here in this world. Annalee’s expression did not move me like it should have.

  I heard two pairs of footsteps running toward us. Dominick bounded up the stairs and stood poised at the landing, with Champion not far behind him.

  “Mother? What have you done?” Dominick growled at me as he walked toward us. Always the protector. Always Annalee’s savior. He slung off his brown jacket and tossed it on the hallway table. His light brown hair was tousled from the wind outside too. Was a storm blowing up? He gave me a disapproving stare, but all I could do was gawk at him. At that moment, he appeared so much like Chase. He was such a handsome young man.

  And then Champion entered the room. I said nothing to him.

  Annalee shouted at me, “Madness, I tell you!” Then she tore down the hall and flew down the stairs with my son chasing after her.

  But Champion remained.

  He watched me, making no movement either away from or toward me, saying nothing. I stared at him, and he stared back. Those eyes were empty, black, endless. How was it he looked so much like Ambrose yet was Athena’s child? He had Ambrose’s dark hair, even his peaked hairline. He wore his sideburns in a similar fashion, and his eyebrows had that unmistakable neat arch to them. Today the young man wore a floral print jacket. It would have been quite ridiculous for anyone else, but he wore pomposity well.

  Just like Ambrose. He was taller than Ambrose, or at least I thought he might be.

  I didn’t flinch from his gaze, but I shivered. The shiver didn’t go unnoticed. It seemed to please him, and with a small smile, he stepped back and made a mock bowing gesture with his long fingers before disappearing down the stairs.

  Like the ghost that I was, I retreated to the Mirror Room.

  Part I

  Chapter One

  Avery Dufresne

  I am an intelligent woman. I majored in journalism in college and then went to law school. But all that “school learning,” as Handsome put it, had not prepared me for the tangled mess that was my family tree.

  Even now, six months after my move to Sugar Hill, I struggled to understand the finer workings of those esteemed branches. The only thing I knew for certain about my lineage was that I was Vertie’s grandchild. There were too many cousins to count, and although the term “cousin” was used frequently in family conversations, not everyone called that was an actual cousin. The term appeared to have a much broader meaning to many in the Dufresne clan.

  The bottom line was I was the Matrone. The family matriarch at the ripe old age of twenty-five, and it was my job to protect all the Dufresnes from whatever unhappiness the world tried to push on them. It was a huge responsibility.

  For example, this week, I’d signed the check for Dolly Jane’s last surgery. It was amazing to think I’d helped this ten-year-old sweetheart on her way to walking. I had also refused to bail cousin Donald Dufresne out of jail again. As far as I was concerned, he could rot there. He was an unapologetic abuser, and I hoped and prayed that sometime during his incarceration, someone showed him just how unpleasant it was to get the crap beaten out of you, even though it wouldn’t change his disposition. I’d met him only once, after the first time I bailed him out, and the guy was an ass.

  Reed agreed with me on that point, but that didn’t stop other family members from calling me on it, including Danforth, who seemed to have a bug up his butt about something. He didn’t like me, that much I knew, but he was a board member, and I needed to make that relationship work if I could. Dufresne board members held their positions for life, as did I. I figured it would be better to work together than against one another.

  Now the Dufresne family was abuzz over the return of Bray Dufresne. This particular cousin was apparently a family favorite, well-liked and esteemed h
ighly by such folks as Pepper and Danforth.

  I was surprised to see that even the normally stoic Summer appeared excited about Bray’s return.

  “And with a wife!” someone had mentioned. The only person who didn’t appear happy about Bray’s homecoming was Reed. But as usual, he was close-lipped and kept his own counsel on things.

  The only other opinion that mattered to me was Mitchell’s, and he was currently on a cruise ship in the Gulf of Mexico. Just thinking of the big man playing shuffleboard and looking like a tourist was enough to make me smile. I never in a million years thought I’d convince him to take a vacation, but he’d eventually agreed. He deserved the time away after caring for Miss Anne for so long, especially after all the headaches I’d caused him by appointing him to an unexpected and unwanted board position, but Mitchell hadn’t let me down. He was an excellent, thoughtful member of the team and had great insight.

  Maybe a family party was what we needed? My relatives did enjoy coming to the “Big House,” as they referred to it, for the quarterly events, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood while they were there. I felt good about my decision to have Bray’s welcome home party at Sugar Hill, and I was curious to learn more about him.

  From what I gathered, he was related to Asner somehow and had left Belle Fontaine to strike out on his own. And strike he did. Two years after he left, Bray was independently wealthy and the owner of a software company that had just made the cover of Take Off, a magazine featuring breakout entrepreneurs.