Secrets of Hallstead House

by Amy M. Reade

  I ate breakfast quite late, after showering and taking my time dressing. I had brought only one dressy outfit, but it didn’t seem suitable for church. Instead, I found a casual skirt and sweater that would do.

  When I found Alex, she was dressed beautifully in a long, swirling skirt with a matching jacket. Around her neck she wore a long silk scarf.

  “Alex, you look beautiful!”

  “Thank you, Macy.” She beamed.

  We waited for Pete to come up from the boathouse. Alex had asked him to accompany us to the boat so she wouldn’t slip on the rocks. He appeared and looked at us approvingly as I helped Alex with her coat.

  “Alex, that’s a gorgeous bracelet you’re wearing,” I told her. A dainty gold chain studded with small garnets encircled her wrist.

  “Forrest gave me that for Christmas one year,” she answered proudly. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  Pete and I each held one of Alex’s elbows, and we picked our way carefully through the woods down to the dock, being sure to help her over the uneven spots. She did remarkably well, though I could feel her stiffen slightly when we reached the rocks we had to cross to reach the dock. No wonder, since it was a slip on these rocks that had caused her initial hip injury.

  Pete had a slightly difficult time helping her into the boat, but she was determined to get in and go to Dark Island. After trying a couple of different ways to get Alex into the boat with as little discomfort as possible, we finally got her seated. I think she was feeling a little fatigued by the time Pete pulled the boat away from the dock, but she assured me that she was fine. The trip to Dark Island would take a little while, she reasoned, so she would be able to rest a bit.

  “Tell me a little about Dark Island before we get there,” I suggested to Alex once we were under way.

  “This is an incredible area of the river,” Alex began. “You’ve already seen how beautiful Boldt Castle is. We’ll be passing by that very soon. Between Heart Island and Dark Island is an area known as Millionaires’ Row. When you see the magnificent homes on many of the islands that make up that stretch of the river, you’ll see why it earned that name.

  “But you asked about Dark Island, so I’ll tell you about that. The church service we’ll be attending is held in Singer Castle, the home on Dark Island. Singer Castle was originally called the Towers and was owned by Frederick G. Bourne, who was the fourth president of the Singer Sewing Machine Company.

  “Frederick Bourne bought Dark Island as a surprise for his wife, Emma, and their children. Singer Castle has four stories, twenty-eight rooms, and a five-story clock tower. Inside there are grand stone spiral staircases, secret passageways, and even a dungeon.”

  “It sounds amazing,” I noted.

  “It is. You’ll enjoy looking around. Singer Castle was one of the only castles to be built, fully furnished, and lived in around the turn of the twentieth century. Frederick Bourne actually commissioned his architect to design a hunting lodge on Dark Island. At the time, the architect had just finished reading Sir Walter Scott’s novel Woodstock, so he took his inspiration from the castle in that book.”

  “I’ve never heard of that novel,” I mused.

  “We have a very old copy of it in the library at Summerplace,” Alex told me. “It’s not in the best condition, but you might be interested in reading it sometime.”

  “I would love to,” I replied.

  We were almost halfway to Dark Island, Pete informed me. Alex leaned her head back against her seat and closed her eyes. Her tale had interested me enough to make me less anxious about being in the boat, but when she stopped talking, all my fears rushed back. I tried to push them to the back of my mind by concentrating on the lovely islands and homes we were passing, and though Pete was going more quickly than I would have liked, I knew we had to reach Dark Island in plenty of time to help Alex ashore before the church service began. He must have known I was feeling nervous, because he began to point out different islands as we sped along, telling me their fanciful, often descriptive names. I especially liked the name Lazy Days Isle.

  After a while, Pete pointed up ahead and said, “There’s Dark Island.” Alex opened her eyes.

  “Macy, wait until you see the clock tower,” she said. “There are four faces, each with a twelve-foot clock. The Westminster chimes still ring—I’m sure we’ll hear them from the boat. Local legend says that the clock faces were made from solid gold!”

  I smiled. Alex was clearly enjoying herself, and the role of local guide suited her. I was glad she had suggested this excursion.

  The castle’s granite façade grew as we approached, and, as I had with Boldt Castle, I felt a thrill to be getting an up-close glimpse of the splendid structure. Dark Island rose out of the water like a fortress, its Spanish-style tiled roofs glowing crimson in the sunlight. The multipaned windows lining the towers and the many wings of the castle reflected the bright morning light back to us.

  “It reminds me a little of Boldt Castle,” I said to Pete.

  “It is a little like Boldt Castle,” he conceded. “But there are some major differences. For one thing, there are a lot more rooms in Boldt Castle. And Singer Castle was actually finished. They’re both beautiful, though. They were both built around the same time, by the same builders, as a matter of fact, and they both used lots of local materials in their construction.”

  We pulled up slowly to the dock, each of us drinking in the view of this structure modeled after a seventeenth-century castle. When we had docked, Pete and I helped Alex out of the boat. Though she was loath to use it, she had brought a cane with her, and it provided her with some stability as we made our way up the gently sloping grounds to the chapel.

  The chapel was breathtaking. Set in a long room ringed with tall, leaded-glass cathedral windows, it was simpler than I had expected. Rows of wooden chairs gleamed in the bright sunlight streaming into the room. At the front was a makeshift pulpit with a piano to one side and exposed stone walls rising above. The whole effect was calming. I didn’t feel overwhelmed by formality in this room, and the glory of the river and the castle’s surroundings were inspiring sights visible to every congregant.

  The church service, which Alex informed me took place now only on certain Sundays, was simplicity itself. The message was delivered by a local pastor, and we closed with an old hymn, “God Be with You till We Meet Again.” Alex told me that services at Singer Castle had always closed with the same song.

  After the service, we took a brief tour of the castle. Parts of it were almost medieval, like the suits of armor that stood sentinel in some rooms, and the crossed swords that graced several of the fireplaces. Other parts of the castle bore witness to its original intent as a hunting lodge. Several deer heads hung from stone walls, and one room was presided over by a chandelier made of antlers. Pete entertained me with stories of the castle’s hidden rooms and secret passageways. The castle was designed like that, Pete said, so that servants could monitor guests’ needs without being obtrusive.

  “I think I’d prefer an obtrusive servant to someone watching me from a secret hiding place,” I stated.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Pete agreed.

  I was sorry that we couldn’t spend more time wandering Singer Castle and the grounds of Dark Island, but I didn’t want Alex to become too tired and I knew she had a lot of work to do back at Summerplace. We reluctantly headed back to the boat.

  We were quiet for most of the ride home, with my thoughts occupied chiefly by wishing that we could be off the boat sooner. When we were in sight of Hallstead Island, Alex made an announcement.

  “The HSH Oil deal that I have been working on with Stephan and Will is supposed to close in a couple of days. I would like to have a nice dinner party at Summerplace to celebrate. We’ll invite Brandt and Giselle. Maybe we can even look into having it catered so that Vali and Leland can join us. What do you think?”

  Pete and I exchanged glances, and I eyed Alex warily. “Are you sure, Alex?” I asked
her. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “For several reasons. First, you’ve been working very hard mentally on this closing. Second, you’ve also been working very hard physically over the past few days. Don’t you think you should give yourself a little bit of time after the closing to rest, both physically and mentally, before you throw a party? And third, although I hate to say it, the person who killed Forrest and Diana is likely to be there. Are you sure you want that person in a room filled with all those people?”

  “That’s just it, Macy. We don’t know who killed Forrest and Diana. Whoever it is, I’ve undoubtedly been in the same room with them many times since Forrest and Diana passed away. Now that they have given me that chilling note, it’s evident that they have plans. Maybe putting that person in a room filled with everyone else will force or scare them out of hiding.”

  I was very skeptical. I was afraid for Alex, and I truly did believe that she should allow herself some time to rest before having a dinner party to celebrate the closing of their transaction.

  She seemed to read my thoughts. “I know you disagree with me, but I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I can’t hide forever because of the person who left that note for me. I’m an old lady. I want to show them that I intend to go on living my life despite their threats. I refuse to let them turn me into a recluse. This trip to Singer Castle has only strengthened my resolve. Besides,” she added with a coy smile, “it’s about time this gloomy old place had a party in it.”

  I couldn’t argue anymore in the face of her determination. I shrugged and smiled. “Okay. If that’s how you feel, I’ll support you.”

  “Good girl!” She turned to Pete. “And you?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I’m going to start making the arrangements right now.” By this time we had docked at Hallstead Island and Pete was helping Alex out of the boat. Together, the three of us made our way slowly up to the house. When we got to the front door, Alex insisted on going into her office without our help. Pete went back to the boathouse to change and get to work on packing up some of the items above the boathouse.

  I was on my way upstairs to change my clothes as well when Will emerged from Alex’s rooms. He saw me and scowled.

  “Macy, Alex just told me about this party she’s planning. Personally, I think the whole idea is ridiculous. It’ll be the same people who are always here.”

  “It’s Alex’s decision, not mine,” I replied, and continued up the stairs. He followed me, and at the top he caught my elbow in a viselike grip. His face was very close to mine. I could see tiny creases around the corners of his eyes.

  “I’ve asked you before to leave this island. Nothing good will come of you being here,” he snarled quietly. He turned on his heel and went to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  I went into my own room with trembling legs. I walked as far as my bed and sat down.

  Will was dangerous; I knew that now. I could not ignore the threat in his eyes, his words, and his grip.

  I didn’t care to spend the afternoon in the turret by myself. Instead, I headed downstairs to the library. It took some searching, but I found the novel Woodstock by Sir Walter Scott. Alex had been right; the book was somewhat tattered and very fragile, its pages yellowed and cracked with age, so I set it down carefully on a table to have a look at it. I read the first few pages, but the words were written in such archaic language that I closed the book after several minutes. As much as I wanted to read it, I didn’t have enough time to devote to it right now. I needed to work some more on packing the books Alex wanted to take with her to Pine Island. They took quite a long time to pack, since there was so little organization in the library. I worked on my categorization system as I packed, and the afternoon passed quickly.

  Brandt and Giselle appeared shortly before I finished the day’s packing. Brandt poked his head into the library, and Giselle stood behind him. “Alex tells us there’s going to be a party,” he greeted me.

  “It looks that way,” I told him, standing up from my spot on the floor. “Hi, Giselle.”

  “Hi, Macy.”

  “She seems excited about it,” he noted.

  “She does indeed.”

  “Do you think she’s up to it?”

  “Well, I asked her that very same question, and she assures me that she’s ready for it. She’s been working very hard lately and she says she wants to celebrate. I asked her to hold off and have the party after she’s had a few days to relax, but Alex isn’t much of a relaxer.”

  Brandt laughed. “It didn’t take you this long to figure that out, did it?” I laughed too.

  Giselle broke in. “Macy, Brandt tells me you’re planning to stay on Hallstead Island for a while.”

  I stole a quick look at Brandt. I hoped he hadn’t told Giselle about our conversation. “Yes, I am. Alex is doing better, but she still needs someone to help her physically. There are a lot of exercises that I can help her with, but she’s not quite ready for them yet. She’s a work in progress.”

  “Oh, I forgot to mention something to Alex about moving to Solstice. I’ll be right back,” Brandt told us.

  Giselle walked into the room and sat down at one of the tables, then picked up a book and idly leafed through its pages. “Brandt was awfully quiet when he came home the other day,” she mused. “Did anything happen after I went back to Cape Cartier?”

  “No, not that I know of.”

  “Oh. I thought you might know the reason for his funk.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t help.”

  She sighed. “That’s okay. I’ll go find him. We need to head back to the mainland. See you at the party.” She waved her hand at me as she walked out of the library.

  I had hoped to find a few minutes to talk to Brandt alone about the discussion he had with Forrest before he died. But that would have to wait for another time. It was difficult to find him alone since Giselle always stuck so closely to him.

  I changed for dinner and joined Alex, and we entered the dining room together. Will and Stephan were already there; Stephan bowed slightly when he saw us.

  Alex went to him immediately and engaged him in a conversation about business. Will leaned against the wet bar and swirled his glass of scotch on the rocks. He glanced my way once but ignored me otherwise. He was quiet throughout dinner, speaking only when Alex or Stephan spoke to him.

  After dinner, I accompanied Alex back to her sitting room. She looked tired, so I suggested that she take a long, hot shower and go straight to bed. She sighed. “I wish I could figure out what drives Will,” she said sadly. “He can be such a charming young man, but he broods so much. I don’t know how to get him out of his shell. Of course, it’s possible that he just doesn’t like it here. I know he has HSH Oil work to do, of course, but when he’s done with that, there’s nothing for him to do here. He probably can’t wait to get back home to New York. He must miss the excitement of being in the city. Are you homesick for New York, Macy?”

  “No, I’m really not. I like the peace and quiet here.”

  Alex started to make her way to the bedroom. “Of course, it could be that Will’s memories haunt him when he’s here.”

  “Memories of what?”

  “Unhappy times. The deaths of his parents, Forrest’s brother and sister-in-law. Forrest and I took him in, you know, after his parents died in a plane crash. And then, of course, the deaths of his cousin and his uncle. Especially Diana. Those two were inseparable when they were young. I’ll never forget the argument he had with Diana the week before she died. They fought like cats over heaven only knows what, and they still weren’t speaking the day she drowned. He never got to say good-bye to her. None of us did. But in his case, I think it was harder because their last words to each other had been so hateful. They never got a chance to make amends.”

  I looked at Alex sharply. “Diana and Will fought a week before she died?”

  “Yes.”

>   “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

  Alex seemed puzzled. “Because it didn’t seem important. They fought sometimes, but it never meant anything. They were like sister and brother.”

  “You have no idea what they argued about?”

  “No idea whatsoever. If they had wanted me to know, they would have said something. But they didn’t, so I left them alone to work it out for themselves.”

  “That could be very important, Alex.”

  “Why? Surely you don’t think Will drowned his own cousin? They were the best of friends. He wasn’t capable of such an act.”

  “But you just said they argued furiously shortly before she died. How do you know he’s not capable of violence?”

  “Macy, Will may not be the most agreeable man in the world, but he’s not a killer. I know that.”

  Alex seemed to be getting agitated with our discussion and I didn’t want to rile her up before bed, so I dropped the subject. It was one I would reopen, however, the next time I saw Will.

  “Do you need my help with anything, Alex?”

  “I could use your help getting my bracelet off,” she replied, pulling her sleeve up.

  The bracelet was gone.

  Alex looked stricken. “Oh, no! It must have fallen off! Forrest gave me that bracelet!”

  “Let’s have a look around. Maybe it just fell on the floor in here or in your office.”

  We looked for the bracelet for quite some time but were not able to find it. Alex was becoming distraught. “You don’t suppose it fell off at Singer Castle, do you? Or what if it fell off in the water? Then I’ll never find it!” Her voice rose as she spoke.

  “Alex,” I said soothingly, “why don’t you wait here while I go look in the boat? Maybe it fell off there this morning.” The words came out before I could stop myself. The last thing I wanted was to be walking around Hallstead Island in the dark by myself.

  “I don’t know, Macy,” she said skeptically. “Do you think you should go down to the boat alone?” She had voiced my concern exactly, but I didn’t want her to feel my fear. So I lied. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.”