Shades of Winter

by Linda Fallon

  “Send the night in a haunted hotel?” Buster asked, obviously worried about the possibilities. “I can’t. Spring is a busy time for me. The rest of you will just have to go on without …”

  “Nonsense!” Garrick said, clapping his friend on the back. “If necessary we will hire someone to take on the farm chores until we return. You are one of us, Buster. You must join us.” He offered Lucien the flask again. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

  “Positive.”

  Garrick pulled the flask close to his chest. “So, after the wedding, you can check out the hotel to make sure everything is acceptable, and then the six of us will have ourselves an adventure.”

  “How far away did you say this hotel was?”

  “A few hours,” Garrick said.

  A few hours. He had two and a half days to kill before the wedding. Two and a half long, boring, Eve-less days. He had a feeling Aunt Constance would do her best to keep him and Evie as far apart as possible.

  His ectoplasm harvester and Thorpe Specter-o-Meter were both stored in a closet in one of Eve’s empty bedrooms. She hadn’t wanted her family to see the devices and ask questions she didn’t care to answer. Still, he didn’t have to carry those devices with him for the initial visit. If the hotel was active, he could take them on the next trip. Besides, he’d travel quicker without those heavy pieces of machinery.

  Just what he needed. A way to pass the next two days and an excuse to stay far, far away from Aunt Constance and Uncle Harold.

  Eve lay in the center of her big bed, Penelope on one side, Millicent on the other. They should all be asleep by now, but only Penelope was sleeping. She snored gently.

  Eve stared at the ceiling and wished for sleep to come. She wished for happy dreams of Lucien. Most of all, she wished he were here.

  “He’s very handsome,” Millicent whispered.

  “Yes, he is,” Eve replied.

  “I don’t really think Daddy would kill him.”

  Small comfort. “I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Of course, there would be no need. Lucien would be at the church this time. He would arrive promptly, not three days late.

  “But Mama …” Millicent drawled, a touch of unexpected humor in her voice. “She’s likely to do just about anything.”

  Millicent was fully grown and very pretty. Not only that, she had a decided femininity about her that most men found attractive. She knew what to wear, how to style her hair, what to say in any social circumstance. Those were attributes Eve had never possessed.

  Eve wondered if Millicent had had that woman-to-woman chat with her mother. She thought not.

  “Do you have a beau?” Eve asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Penelope.

  Millicent sighed. “A few. No one special, I’m afraid. There’s certainly no one who would stand before my family and tell them that I’m so wonderful I could have any man in the world that I wanted. You’re so lucky, Eve.”

  “I know I am,” Eve whispered.

  “Lucien is so … so handsome and smart, and he adores you!”

  How do you tell a young woman who has never been in love that while all those things were nice, they weren’t a reason to promise yourself to a man for the rest of your life?

  “We belong together,” Eve whispered. “I know it more strongly and certainly than I have ever known anything.” She had never spoken to anyone about her feelings for Lucien. Her friend Daisy knew she loved Lucien to distraction, as did all her friends. But she had never actually told anyone out loud how she felt. “Sometimes I feel like he’s inside me, all the time. Like he lives in my heart and in my bones, and without him … without him I would be nothing.”

  Millicent sighed. “I hope one day I love someone that much. But …” her head popped up. “Is it painful? To love someone so deeply, does it hurt?”

  “Sometimes,” Eve whispered.

  But there would be no pain in the next few days, as she planned for her wedding. Her family and friends were either here in Plummerville or on their way. Her dress, the most beautiful wedding gown ever created, was almost finished. Laverne wanted to sew on a few more seed pearls, around the scooped neckline. Miss Gertrude, Lucien’s landlady and the best cook in town, was going to bake a tasty and lavishly decorated cake to be shared with friends and family after the ceremony.

  Most important, Lucien was here. If she needed to see him all she had to do was take the walk to town.

  It didn’t matter what Aunt Constance said about the days ahead being too busy for Eve to see her groom. If she needed to see Lucien, he would be there for her.

  And since he was here, Lucien wasn’t likely to get distracted by an intriguing ghost that would make him forget what day it was. He would always be close by, in the days to come, near enough to see and speak to at a moment’s notice. She wouldn’t have to worry about where he was. She wouldn’t have to worry about his missing a train, oversleeping, forgetting where he was or where she was or when the wedding was to take place.

  Millicent sighed and rolled over, very soon beginning to breathe in a deep and even way that told Eve she was asleep. It wasn’t long before Eve relaxed and drifted toward sleep herself. She had nothing to worry about. All was well, in her world. Three days from now the wedding would be over and she and Lucien would be husband and wife at last.

  Two

  Lucien stood on Eve’s front porch, eye to eye with Eve’s less-than-charming Uncle Harold.

  “I just need a moment,” he said.

  “You’ll have to come back later,” the portly man said, already beginning to close the red door.

  “That’s not possible.” Lucien stopped the progress of the door with his foot. Later he’d be on the road. He only wanted to tell Eve where he was going and assure her that he would be back late tonight. By tomorrow noon, at the latest. “I must have a word with Eve.”

  Harold stared down at Lucien’s shoe as if he wanted to stomp down on it with his own heavy foot. “The ladies are all upstairs with the dressmaker. I believe Eve is trying on her wedding gown. It would be bad luck for you to see her.”

  Damned superstition! “I could speak to her through a closed door. It will only take a moment.”

  Harold opened the door a bit wider and stepped onto the porch. “I don’t like you, Thorpe,” he said in a lowered voice. “There’s something strange about you.” He narrowed one eye. “I don’t know what it is, exactly, but you’re a bit peculiar. Eve’s father was peculiar, so maybe that doesn’t bother her none, but it bothers me.”

  “Mr. Phillips, I’m sorry if I offend you in some way, but the truth is I don’t care if you like me or not. I want to speak to Eve.”

  “Last night you said you weren’t good enough for her. Sounded like a bunch of bullshit meant to appease the ladies, if you ask me, but it’s also the truth.” His grim mouth thinned. “There are at least half a dozen solid businessmen in Savannah I know personally who would make fine, stable husbands for my niece. Instead she’s marrying a … a scientist. What the hell does that mean? Who pays you at the end of every week?”

  Lucien hated lying. Eve knew that, and still she’d gone to a great deal of trouble to see that her family did not know exactly what he did for a living. Instead of compounding the lies, he preferred to skip right over them.

  “Mr. Phillips, I didn’t come here to argue with you. I need a moment of Eve’s time. That’s all.”

  “Give me a message and I’ll see that she gets it.”

  Lucien had no doubt but that the message would be distorted, if it was delivered at all. “No, thank you,” he said as he turned away. A moment later he heard the front door slam.

  It was cold this morning, but the sun was shining and that made the chill bearable. Lucien started his walk back to town, strides long and more than a little impatient. The weather was the least of his worries! The thought of another two days of this was more than he could stand. The preparations for the wedding had been made. All he had to do was be there on time.<
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  He could tell Garrick or Buster where he was headed, but there were a few problems with that idea. Garrick was likely at his father’s mill this morning, and Lucien would prefer to face Uncle Harold again than to come face to face with Garrick’s father, Douglas Hunt. They shared too many secrets, and seeing the elder Hunt would only make things worse. Besides, if Garrick knew where Lucien was going he’d want to ride along.

  Buster was most likely at his farm this morning, and it was several miles to the south of town, the opposite direction from the road he needed to take to get him north and west.

  What was he worried about? Since the hotel was only a few hours away, he could be there by early afternoon at the latest, explore the place in no more than an hour, and then head for home. He’d be back by late tonight.

  Worst case, the hotel might be farther away than he’d been informed, and he’d return tomorrow. He’d be here before Hugh’s train arrived.

  On his way to rent a horse from the blacksmith, he stopped by the boarding house and borrowed paper and ink from Miss Gertrude. He couldn’t say much, since the old lady was certain to read the note before it was delivered to Eve. Uncle Harold and Aunt Constance would surely take a peek at it, as well.

  My dearest Eve,

  I’m leaving town for the day and will be back late tonight. A tiny bit of unexpected business has come up.

  All my love,

  Lucien

  Eve would understand what he was talking about, but she wouldn’t have to worry about her relatives discovering the true nature of his scientific study.

  He wanted Eve to have everything she wanted, grand wedding included. But deep in his heart he knew they should have eloped months ago!

  Eve paced in the parlor. She had expected Lucien to call on her at least once today. It would soon be dark, and she’d had no word from him all day! Her relatives had scared him away, and she couldn’t really say she was surprised.

  “Sit down,” Aunt Constance ordered.

  “I’m just a little worried about Lucien,” Eve said. “He should have stopped by.” He always did. A day didn’t pass that they didn’t see each other!

  “Oh,” Uncle Harold said absently. “He did. This morning. I sent him on his way,” he added with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “Uncle Harold!” Eve said, her breath catching in her throat.

  “You were trying on your wedding dress.”

  Early in the day then. Why hadn’t he come back? What had Uncle Harold said to him?

  “Oh, and there’s a note,” Aunt Constance said, rising from the sofa and heading for the fireplace mantel. “It was delivered this afternoon by an urchin and I forgot all about it.”

  A note? Eve’s heart climbed into her throat. Why would Lucien send a note and not come himself?

  She scanned the short message quickly and then read it again. Her heart climbed into her throat, her head swam. If she were given to fainting, she would be on the floor right now.

  Lucien wouldn’t do this to her! He wouldn’t leave town two days before the wedding on … on business! His business was the study and eradication of ghosts, and when he got caught up in a haunting nothing else mattered to him. Nothing. Not even her.

  In a fit of anger she tossed the note into the fire.

  “Is something wrong, Eve?” Aunt Constance asked calmly.

  “No,” she said in a low voice. Why was she worried? The note had been sitting here all day. Lucien was probably already back!

  So why wasn’t he here?

  “Rather inconsiderate of him, to leave so suddenly and with such a poor excuse,” Aunt Constance said.

  Eve faced her aunt. “You read the note.” She was too shocked to be offended, at the moment.

  “I wanted to make sure there wasn’t an emergency,” Constance explained.

  Lucien headed out for a haunted house two days before the wedding was an emergency!

  “Then we got so busy with the girls’ gowns and preparations for supper, I simply forgot.”

  Eve hated to think poorly of her aunt, but she didn’t quite believe the excuse.

  “I’m going to town to see if he’s back,” Eve said, heading for the entryway and the heavy wool cloak that hung near the door.

  “You are not,” Aunt Constance said primly. “It’s much too late and too cold, and it’s very unladylike for you to go chasing after the man. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to track down your wayward fiancé.”

  Eve threw the cloak over her shoulders. “No. Tomorrow morning is not soon enough.”

  She left the house, slamming the door on her aunt’s protest.

  Eve practically ran to town, in part because it was so cold and almost dark, and also because she was afraid.

  She was afraid Lucien wouldn’t be back in time for the wedding. She was afraid he wouldn’t come back at all. He’d get caught up in something exciting and absorbing and he’d forget all about her. It had happened before, it could happen again.

  Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with a farmer? Or a shopkeeper? Someone who stayed in one place without growing restless and distracted.

  But she hadn’t fallen in love with a farmer or a shopkeeper. She’d fallen in love with Lucien. Faults and all.

  The warmth of the boarding house lobby was comforting, and Eve took a deep breath of air as she tried to calm herself. Miss Gertrude came bursting out of the dining room.

  “Miss Abernathy!” the older, plump lady said with a wide grin. “Can I help you?”

  “Lucien,” Eve said breathlessly. “Is he here?”

  Miss Gertrude shook her head. “No, dear. He hasn’t returned from his excursion. Is there a problem?” she stepped forward, head cocked and eyes wide. “Goodness, you’re so flushed.”

  “There’s a cold wind,” Eve explained, embarrassed to admit that she’d been running.

  “He did say it might be tomorrow before he returned,” the landlady said. “I’m sure he’ll come rolling in here in the morning, none the worse for wear.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Eve said, trying to calm herself. Lucien did love her. He wouldn’t ruin their carefully planned wedding for a ghost!

  She tried not to worry. She did her best to stay calm. But the truth was, he had forgotten her for a ghost once, and he hadn’t changed all that much.

  “Lucien,” she muttered as she walked out the boarding house door and back into the wind. “How could you do this to me?”

  Lucien approached the abandoned hotel from a winding road. A weather-beaten sign identified the edifice as the Honeycutt Hotel.

  Bad directions from a man at the general store at a crossroads had cost Lucien several hours of travel, so he was arriving at the hotel as darkness fell. The chill in the air seemed more pronounced here, but then it was probably because the sunshine had gone, leaving him with a cold gray evening.

  The Honeycutt Hotel was three stories high. It had once been white but the paint was now peeling in some places. Across the front of the hotel was a wide covered porch, and the portion of the roof that sheltered that porch was supported by four fat, white columns. Tall weeds encroached upon the porch. Other than the large porch and tall columns, the design was plain. Ordinary, but ordinary on a huge scale.

  And even from here he could tell that the place was quite active. He felt it, as well as saw it in sparkling bits of light behind the panes of glass in the many windows. Bits of light those without his gift would not see. He wished he had his specter-o-meter and ectoplasm harvester with him, now that he’d seen the place. After the wedding he might even drag Hugh and Lionel here, if they had no plans elsewhere. They would be as fascinated as he was.

  The hotel might be a bit too active for the Plummerville Ghost Society’s first outing, though. He didn’t think the ladies would like it here at all. Buster certainly wouldn’t. Even though they couldn’t see and hear what he did, everyone had instincts that warned them when something wasn’t right.

  The Honeycutt Hotel was
definitely not right.

  Lucien dismounted and tossed the horse’s reins across the hitching post. Three creaking steps took him onto the deep front porch, and he stood there for a moment, staring at the double front doors. Since it was getting late and he would never be able to find his way back to the main road in the dark, he would be spending the night here. He had a feeling he wouldn’t get much sleep, though. Even from here and without any special effort, he could tell that the old hotel was filled with unhappy residents.

  He reached out, touched the doorknob, and as he turned the knob a gust of wind caught the door and caused it to swing open easily and quickly—almost as if he were being invited inside.

  Lucien took a match from his coat pocket and struck it against the doorjamb. The lobby was cavernous, furnished with dust-covered chairs, a long sofa and a collection of intricate spiderwebs. And the room was inhabited by a number of ghosts. He didn’t have a lantern with him, but he was in hopes that he might find one about. The lobby was still furnished. Perhaps there were supplies here as well.

  And if not, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d passed the night in a dark, haunted house.

  The wind extinguished his match, so he closed the door behind him and struck another, holding it high. There was a candelabra on the long front desk. The candles there were burned at least halfway down, but it would certainly do.

  He lit the candles, one by one, and then turned to study the room. It was nice enough, if a bit cold and neglected. Strange, that someone had left this place as it was. There were framed pictures on the walls, nice tables, neatly arranged, dusty furniture. It looked as if the last residents of this hotel had simply walked out and left everything behind.

  There were spirits here, and most of them were hiding. He saw them, though, in those bits of bright light that hovered at the ceiling and in the corners. As usual, they were more afraid of him than he was of them. Soon enough they would realize that he was no threat to them, and he might be able to communicate with one or two of the braver souls. He would like to know what had happened in the Honeycutt Hotel.