The Ghosts of Summerleigh Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  “Harper,” I whispered. And then I heard Eddie scream. I realized that I could move again and that the pain had lifted.

  “Harper?” I screamed as I ran down the hall. I wanted to look back, to see her one last time, but I wanted to live even more. I propelled myself down the hall on wobbly legs until I reached Ann’s bedroom. I opened the door and practically slung myself over the bed. I raced to the side door, but it was locked. I could hear Eddie screaming and running after me. He called me foul names again and again, but I wasn’t listening to him. I could hear a second pair of shoes slapping on the floor.

  Finally, the door opened for me and I tumbled out onto the porch. Oh God, this hurts! Had I twisted my ankle on top of everything else? The door slammed behind me, and I heard Eddie swearing again. A great crashing sound echoed in the bedroom behind the closed door, as if someone had knocked the dresser over and moved the bed around. I heard Eddie’s frightened cry once more. I crawled off the stairs into the yard and finally dug into my pocket for my cell phone. Eddie’s screams continued, and my hands shook with fear. How long could Harper keep him there? I wasn’t sure. I don’t know why I didn’t call the police, but I couldn’t think straight. I dialed Jesse’s number.

  “Jesse? I need you to come to the house. Eddie is here. Please!” And then the stabbing sensation hit me again, and this time the pain was so great that I felt a great tide of blackness wash over me.

  When my eyes fluttered open, I could see the face of a young woman in front of me. I knew this face. This was Mariana McIntyre.

  Mariana, I see you. Am I dead?

  A peaceful smile stretched across her face, and I felt her cool hand touch my cheek. And then she was gone. She was no longer there; I was looking into the face of someone I had never seen before.

  “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. I can hear you. Am I dead?”

  The woman in the nurse’s uniform shook her head. “No, but you are one lucky woman. You had an ulcer, but you’re on the mend. I think you have a visitor if you’re up to seeing him.”

  “What? I’m in the hospital?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’ve been here a few days. You are going to be alright now, Mrs. Poole.”

  “It’s Jerica. I’m Jerica Jernigan,” I said with all the strength I could muster.

  I heard another voice beside me, a familiar voice and one that I wanted to hear with all my heart.

  “Look who is awake. I thought…I’m glad to see you, Jerica.”

  “Me too, Jesse. I’m glad to see you too.” And then I felt so tired, so very tired. I had to close my eyes for a few minutes. Just a few. “Don’t leave, okay?”

  “Never. I’m never leaving again.”

  I started to say, “Thank you,” or “I love you,” but the words didn’t come.

  I fell into a place beyond sleep.

  Chapter Sixteen—Mariana

  The striking pianist’s fingers moved over the ivory keys so effortlessly that it seemed like a bit of magic to watch him play. Thaddeus Lott, as he was introduced to us by my father, leaned into Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata as he closed his eyes. This selection always made me weep, but tonight no tears came for I could not take my eyes off the young man’s face. It was certainly a handsome face; many other young women in the room obviously agreed. It was angular, elegant and illuminated by candlelight. His pink lips moved slightly as he allowed the music to carry him to faraway places. I traveled with him. Dark-fringed eyes stared into the darkness beyond the conservatory windows, and then they were watching me, but only for a second. He did not leer at me. However, I could not take my eyes off of him.

  Oh! He caught me staring, and I believed I saw the hint of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. But then it disappeared, like the music that vanished into the night air. Suddenly, my gown felt as if it tightened around me; I was short of breath and reminded myself to breathe evenly.

  Keep your composure, Mariana.

  Someone was watching me; the hair began to prickle on the back of my neck. Angry to be torn away from Mr. Lott’s musical performance, I glanced sternly in Claudette’s direction. She smiled at me politely, but I gave her no hope of being forgiven. She may fool my father, but she will not make a fool of me. Never again. And then suddenly Thaddeus Lott’s music recaptured my attention as it intensified, the notes precise and persistent. I felt the audience’s collective breath catch as he picked at the notes like a madman. A handsome, wonderfully talented madman. The lady beside me, whose name escaped me, began to frantically fan herself as if the speed of the music had raised her temperature. I smiled at the idea but kept my eyes on Mr. Lott.

  Father had asked me to befriend him; I suddenly became very open to the idea of a friendship with this talented musician. In this I shall be obedient, but I will certainly wait for Father to make my introductions. It would hardly be proper to extend my hand to him without first being formally introduced. Would this piece never end? I wanted to meet this young man, talk with him and maybe even dance with him. The ballroom would be ready now; I could not wait to see it. Suddenly, Claudette sat beside me. Her posture was perfect, her face the picture of grace and beauty, but I could sense her worry. She knew that I knew. She’d figured it out. I wondered if Father mentioned it to her. I moved my skirt a few inches to avoid touching hers as if she would contaminate me.

  “Sister,” she whispered without leaning too far in my direction, “I must talk to you.”

  “Must you?” I whispered back and shifted in my chair. It would be the height of rudeness to walk out on my guest’s performance, so I would not, but I did not believe I had to endure chitchat with my former friend.

  “Mariana,” she began in a low whisper.

  “Please, be quiet,” I hissed as I turned my full attention back to Thaddeus Lott, and as quick as that, the sonata ended and the applause began. I eagerly applauded too as he stood to graciously accept our praise for his beautiful performance.

  Father stepped into the aisle and offered his hand to me. Claudette rose too and smiled in an overly friendly manner. Without frowning at her—and that was a tremendous feat—I accepted his hand and we began to greet those who had gathered to celebrate my birthday. I knew many of the faces although some names escaped me. Even after introductions, I was unable to remember all their names. But Thaddeus Lott and his father, George Lott, I would always remember. Two more handsome faces I had never seen.

  “Please allow me to introduce my daughter, Mariana, and her friend, Claudette Paul. Ladies, this young man is Thaddeus Lott. And this is his father, George Lott.”

  “Ladies, we are honored to meet you both.” Thaddeus bowed slightly to the two of us but barely glanced in Claudette’s direction. I liked him even more. Jameson passed by behind Thaddeus but did not dare intrude.

  “Thank you for playing, Mr. Lott. I wish I could play the piano with such precision, but alas, I have two hands with ten thumbs.”

  “Do not pretend that you are not talented, Mariana. You have the voice of an angel,” Claudette purred with faux sincerity.

  “Whatever my other skills might be, I could never play the piano so beautifully as my mother did. They say musical talent skips a generation. Many people say my mother was such a moving pianist that people wept when they heard her play. But alas, as I said, I have no such talent.” My father’s dark eyes pierced mine as I realized he was very unhappy with me. Yes, I had pushed him too far. Claudette frowned too, but both our guests were oblivious to the tension.

  The younger Lott’s lips curled and revealed two dimples, one in each cheek. “I hear there is a cure for that,” he said in a warm, friendly voice.

  “What would that be?” I asked curiously, happy to be in conversation with this beautiful young man.

  “Practice,” he said. My heart sank at his reply, but he obviously did not mean to insult for he followed up his comment quickly with a surprising offer. “Perhaps you need a better teacher. I would of course be happy to offer my services.
Music is my passion, Miss McIntyre.”

  “Oh, yes. I would like that.”

  The five of us stood awkwardly for a few seconds until Thaddeus said, “If I may be so bold, Miss McIntyre, I wonder if you would dance with me. Your father has mentioned that you enjoy the waltz. I do as well, but I fear I am not a skilled dancer.”

  I smiled and answered, “I hear there is a cure for that, Mr. Lott.” Everyone laughed except my father, who merely watched the exchange. Was I being too flirtatious? I had no time to wonder, for the ballroom doors slid open and the violins began to soar. I could not hide my delight. Mrs. Tutwiler had exceeded my expectations—the place looked like a scene from heaven. Gold-toned candlesticks held white candles, and green and white ribbons hung from the curtains that were elegantly pulled back from the massive windows. I felt that I was indeed the Lady of Pennbrook tonight.

  As if she read my mind, Claudette came to my side, but I turned away only to walk into Jameson. He would not budge but stared down at me rudely. I nudged him in the chest with my elbow and swirled around him as he tugged at one of my ribbons. I could see a gleam of devilish delight in his eye. My brother would love nothing more than to cut off all my hair and strip every ribbon from my gown, but my rescuer, Thaddeus Lott, remained close and said smoothly, “Miss McIntyre, how about this dance? It is a waltz, and I am anxious to make your further acquaintance.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lott. I would be delighted,” I replied, trying not to smile too broadly or speak too hurriedly.

  “Please call me Thaddeus,” he said as he offered his hand. I put my gloved hand on top of his and ignored the whispers.

  “Very well, Thaddeus. You may call me Mariana.”

  “Mariana. What a musical name.”

  For the next hour, I sailed around the ballroom with various guests, but none pleased me as much as Thaddeus Lott. As we laughed and enjoyed one another’s company, I decided then and there that I would behave. I would not tempt Father’s anger again as he had arranged this new friendship and clearly, he and Mr. Lott hoped a deeper friendship would bloom between Thaddeus and me.

  Soon, the ensemble rose and received their prize, our applause and admiration. The ballroom had grown warm, the faces of the cheerful attendees were pink, and many folks headed for the porches and the gardens beyond. Confused, I asked Mrs. Tutwiler what was happening.

  “Oh, my dear, I forget how young you are sometimes. This is the intermission. It will last for an hour, and then there will be another hour of dancing. During the intermission, the men will take cigars and bourbon in Mr. McIntyre’s study.”

  “What will the ladies do, Mrs. Tutwiler?” I felt ashamed that I did not know, but I was grateful to have her insight.

  “Why, they will tidy themselves, tend to their hair, their gowns, whatever they like. But you can be sure many will be talking about you and that young Mr. Lott.” She patted my hand and led me up the stairs. “In my time, the ladies took naps, but that was for afternoon balls. As you are the hostess of the party, you have the upper hand. You could change your gown if you like and then return to the ball looking fresh and beautiful while your guests will look a bit wilted. It is after all your birthday.”

  My eyes lit up as realization dawned. “Oh! Is that why you told me not to wear my new gown yet?”

  “You are a very bright young woman,” Mrs. Tutwiler said with a smile. She rarely smiled, and I hugged her to thank her. She patted my back and kissed my cheek. Another first for me. “Your father has thought of everything, Mariana. And Thaddeus Lott—you approve of him, obviously.”

  “How generous Father is to me! I cannot believe he would be so kind. I should go apologize; I have hurt him, Mrs. Tutwiler. I really should.” I pulled my gloves off and chewed my nail until Mrs. Tutwiler fussed at me.

  “He is busy at the moment making arrangements for his own happiness. You can talk to him later, Mariana. Now come on, let’s go get you changed.”

  What could that mean?

  Just then, a housemaid interrupted, “Excuse me, Mrs. Tutwiler? Jacob needs you. He’s very sick and has thrown up all over himself. I don’t know what to do, ma’am.” The girl appeared sick herself and certainly not capable of taking care of Jacob. Yes, we needed a governess. Then I had an idea, what if Mrs. Tutwiler became Jacob’s governess? She knew how to take care of the house. She had one of her own. But why would she do such a thing when she had Oak Lawn to run? Her husband died five years ago, but the house was her family home.

  “Go ahead, Mrs. Tutwiler. I can get one of the house servants to help me. I will come down soon.”

  She left me alone in the hallway. There were people everywhere, including Claudette who stared at me with fierce determination. I immediately spun on my heel and went into my room and closed the door.

  I sat on the bed, but Claudette did not knock. I waited another few minutes and heard nothing at all except for the voices of other excited young women in the hallway. I imagined I heard my name on their lips.

  Yes, Thaddeus and I would be the talk of the town by now, or at least the talk of Pennbrook. With furious fingers, I began to tug at the ribbons that had me bound. No. It was no good. Mrs. Tutwiler had knotted one or two of them. I would need an extra pair of hands. As I walked to the door to call for a servant, a voice behind me surprised me.

  “Please, sister. Allow me to help you with that.”

  I spun around to see Jameson, and as quick as lightning, his hand wrapped around my throat.

  Chapter Seventeen—Mariana

  “What do you think you know, sister? I know so much more than you do. I always have. I know about our mother. Fever didn’t take her. Sickness didn’t claim her. It was Father who did her in.”

  My throat hurt so badly, I could barely breathe, and I was so frightened I believed I might die. “Jame-son, st-op,” I gurgled as he continued to apply pressure to my throat.

  “Say, ‘You know more, Jameson’. Say it!” Jameson’s voice was flat, and his face was the picture of hatred. And it was me that he hated—his own sister. Partially releasing my neck, he said in a near growl, “Say it!”

  “Jame-son…please stop.” He squeezed me again, and I gasped for breath and my eyes watered. Would he kill me on my birthday?

  “Say that I know more than you or I will put you to sleep, Mariana. You could go to sleep and never wake up. Just like Mother.” He leaned over me, his face just an inch from mine. The weight of his body forced me down into the mattress, and I began to cry silently. I will die! I will die tonight! Any second!

  But the bedroom door opened and to my surprise, Claudette walked inside. She closed the door behind her and immediately I knew I was doomed. She did not come to my aid or try to stop Jameson from performing his evil task.

  They were going to kill me to keep their secret. But it wasn’t a secret anymore. I told Father, only he didn’t believe me! I saw spots form before my eyes. I saw bright lights, and then everything went black. I was dying. I had to be dying. One would die if one could not breathe. My lungs burned, my eyes ached, and I passed out.

  Or maybe I died.

  No. That’s not right. I’m awake now.

  I was in my bed, finally wearing my new gown. But I could barely move. Jameson had left us, but my former companion Claudette remained. I noticed that she held a pair of silver shears. I wanted to speak, but I could not, not yet. My throat hurt, and my heart beat rather slowly. I wasn’t sure I was still alive. Maybe I was dead…yes, please let me be dead.

  “I know you cannot talk to me, Mariana. You cannot speak because Jameson crushed your windpipe. That is unfortunate, because I would like to hear your apology. Why did you have to ruin everything? Why? You should not have spied on me, Mariana. You should have left well enough alone. For you see, I am going to be the Lady of Pennbrook now. You should have accepted me, accept that I do not love your father, that I love Jameson. Your father is a killer. Would you rather he kill me too?”

  I tried to speak but only hissed. She smil
ed as she clipped at my hair. She held up a lock of it to me and then tossed it on the floor beside the bed. “Jameson and I love one another, Mariana. And we understand one another. You cannot spoil it, although this pains me, you just cannot. But now, I am going to claim a souvenir first. Just a few to remember you by when you have gone. Yes, I am afraid you must die, sweet Mariana, but do not worry your pretty head about it. I will make sure you are buried with all the respect due you, and as your father’s wife, I will mourn you immensely.”

  Suddenly, I began to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth. Not a sound, just an empty scream. I called for Father, Mrs. Tutwiler and Jacob, but no one heard me. Not even the people in the hallway outside could hear me. But I could hear them. Life was so close! Thaddeus was so close!

  “What a lovely new dress, Mariana, dear. So lovely. The perfect dress to die in.”

  I squirmed away from her, but she was on me like a hungry cat on a fat mouse that had been foolish enough to give away his position.

  And I was murdered as quickly as that.

  Horrible, gut-wrenching pain pierced me, accompanied by hot warmth on my skin and then coldness in my body. The cold was so fierce and chilled my soul. I did not feel anything after the first stab. She stabbed me a second time and then rose from the bed to watch me bleed. I stared at the horrible smile on her face. That’s when I saw him. My little brother was hiding beneath the table and no one had seen him. He’d seen the whole thing. I wanted to tell him to run, to go tell Father, but I felt dizzy, like I was falling down the staircase. Or like my soul was falling out of my body.

  I died so quickly. I died too soon.

  I never kissed Thaddeus as I had hoped to.

  I hovered near my body…waiting for what, I didn’t know. And another door opened; it had been a part of the wall. I never knew that was there! Jameson stepped back into the room, and although I could not hear them, I could see that he was angry. Angry with Claudette! She pleaded with him about something, but what? I could not hear, and the room was growing dark now.