The Haunting of Ripewood Manor

by Clara Cody

  Stephanie was surprised she didn't look more pleased with herself.

  "So," she started, standing up from the bed. "You want to know what happened to our mother." She walked over to the jug of water by the washing basin and poured herself a glass of water. Her hands shook as she raised the glass to her mouth to take a drink. Rebecca took the glass of water back to the bed and sat down. "Very well. Any place, in particular, I should begin?"

  Stephanie sat down on the chair by the door. "What do you know about her working at Ripewood Manor?"

  Rebecca gave her a confused look. "Ripewood Manor? I didn't know...I..." She refocused her stare on Stephanie. "Not that it matters. I knew she was working, a governess for a rich family nearby; I never knew where."

  "Why was she working there?"

  Rebecca gave a humorless chuckle. "Because they couldn't afford not to. They were practical beggars after Granny and Grampy disowned them. Father moved us out of the city and to a neighboring village." A sneer came over her face, like she'd tasted a lemon. "He made her go out to work every day because he couldn't support us on his own."

  "They were more responsible for our poverty than he ever was. And yet you ran straight into the arms of our grandparents."

  "Stephanie, you are so naive. Who do you think convinced who to run off and elope? It certainly wasn't Mother. He put her in that squalid shack you called a home, and he forced her to go, terrified, every day to work."

  "What do you mean, terrified? Why was she terrified?"

  "I don't know, they never told me. I listened to her begging him every night to leave, go back to the city and never return. And every night he said no, they would make do. He didn't want to run away, back to the city. His pride kept him there when all she wanted to do was get away."

  Stephanie fought back the tears and bile that were rising in her. She couldn't believe it. Her father had been so devoted to the memory of her mother; could it be because he felt guilty? The idea felt rancid.

  She shook her head. "How did she die?"

  Rebecca scoffed. "Small wonder. She was robbed one night, on her way home. She walked there and back again, every day. A fisherman found her body face down in a river."

  Stephanie felt her stomach lurch.

  "All her money and jewelry were taken."

  "Jewelery?"

  Rebecca nodded, condescendingly. "Her wedding band. The one piece of jewelery she'd never been able to give up. It's probably what got her killed in the end."

  "She was strangled," Stephanie whispered, touching the bruised flesh of her neck.

  "How did you know that?" Rebecca asked, watching her carefully.

  "I...what else?" she asked, refocusing her stare.

  Rebecca shrugged.

  Stephanie remembered. "Of course. You left the very next day after Mother died."

  Rebecca's eyes were cold and dark as she looked at Stephanie. "Of course I did. Do you really think I would live in the same house as the man that killed my mother?."

  Stephanie shook her head. "He didn't kill our mother."

  "It was his fault all the same. There was a bigger, better life waiting for me, and I took it. I did the only thing I could. I might have only been a child, but I went to Grammy and begged her to take me in, give me the chance our father wouldn't"

  Stephanie scoffed. "Have you no shame?"

  "Why should I?"

  Stephanie stood, shaking her head. "Is that all you know of Mother?"

  Rebecca rolled her eyes as if bored. "Yes."

  "Very well. If that is all, I will be leaving."

  "Wonderful. I can finally get some sleep." She reached over and grasped the locket. She popped the clasp and opened it, laying it flat on her hand. "Mother was beautiful, wasn't she?"

  Stephanie inhaled sharply. "Extremely." Her loss cut her deeply. She reminded herself that at least she had her mother's wedding ring and that that should soften the blow. Though, somehow, it didn't. She knew all too well how special the locket was.

  Rebecca stroked the picture in the locket. "Even poor, she took great pains to look her best." She snapped the locket shut. "You should feel lucky that she isn't here to see you now." Cold spite dripped from her tongue.

  Stephanie ground her teeth, holding back. She tried to keep her head up, her mouth from grimacing, her eyes from tearing. But it was no use. She fled from the room before she could break down. She rushed down the hall, supporting herself on the wall, choking back her tears.

  Chapter 31

  Stephanie

  THEODORE STOOD BRUSHING the neck of his chestnut brown horse. He whispered softly to the stead as she snorted and threw her mane. He looked up to Stephanie as she glided, blank-faced, down the steps.

  He didn't bother looking surprised at her state. "Did you get what you needed?"

  "As much as I could have hoped for." She met his eyes. "She was scared. My mother was terrified of going to work at the house. How could he—" She felt the tears welling up in her eyes. "I want to go home."

  He turned and started to untie the horse. "This is terribly unfair of me, I know, but I must be honest with you," he said, his back turned as he untied the horse.

  She didn't have the energy for any more revelations. "You weren't honest before?"

  "I wasn't dishonest...exactly. I may have left something out, though."

  "What have you learned, then?"

  "I learned why your grandparents were so against your mother and father's union. Your maternal grandparents were amongst the wealthiest people in the city. But money isn't everything. You see, your great-grandfather was a merchant. A successful one, but a merchant, nonetheless. Your grandparents had arranged for your mother to marry a young wealthy man with a good family name. Which was exactly what your grandfather wanted."

  Stephanie's nostrils flared and she had to look away. Her mother had been engaged to someone else? Had Rebecca even known that? Her ignorance of her parent's lives was a painful reminder. She looked back at Theodore. "Continue."

  "But your mother didn't love him. She was already planning to steal away with your father and elope. His parents weren't keen on the match either once they heard how her parents opposed it." He shook his head. "It's a shame really, what pride can do. Anyway, your parents thought that once they'd eloped, they would have no choice but to accept the marriage."

  "Yes, yes. I know that. Their parents cast them out and wrote them out to their wills. Is that all?"

  Theodore looked down to his feet and cleared his throat. "It was Mrs. Callowell's father. Fredrick."

  "What?"

  Theodore took a deep breath and met her eyes again. "The man to whom your mother had been promised. It was Fredrick."

  Stephanie's stomach dropped as the words registered. She felt the air getting sucked from her lungs. Her mother had been set to marry Mrs. Callowell's father? "But...why?" she whispered more to herself than Theodore. "Why would he hire the woman he had meant to marry? Was it some sort of punishment? Some way to get back at my mother for not marrying him?"

  "Probably. There haven't been very many nice things said about the man in town. It seems everyone was afraid of him. For years, they'd been hiring servants from cities and towns farther away because no one from nearby would work for them."

  "Is that all?"

  "No," he said, having the decency to look ashamed. "You asked me how far back the disappearances go."

  "And?"

  "It seems they started after your mother left. At least there's no history of women disappearing before your mother. I think—"

  "She was the first."

  "Sadly, yes. After your mother, he got smarter, started hiding the bodies. A body is harder to explain than a missing girl."

  "And you knew all this? Before I went upstairs, you knew this and you didn't tell me?"

  Theodore looked back to the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—I—"

  "Do you have any idea what I had to give up to—" Her face hardened against him as he continued
staring down at the ground, shifting on his feet.

  He looked up at her. "We need all the information we can get," he said, holding his hands out. "If talking to your sister was the only way to learn—"

  "Was for me to make a sacrifice."

  "I'm sorry—"

  She shook her head. "No, you're not. You're intrigued. Wasn't that what you said? Wasn't that why you dropped Rebecca's case with the locket? Because something more interesting came up. My life, my tragedy is nothing but a diversion for you. A little mystery that needs solving."

  "That's not fair."

  "Fair? You have no idea what I've lost. I have to go begging to the sister that despises me for kernels of information and now I have to go and sleep under the same roof as the man that murdered my mother."

  "You're right, of course. I'm so sorry."

  She sighed. "Go back to your hotel, Mr. Bixely. I will find a coach to take me home tomorrow morning."

  "Wait," he said, outstretching his hand.

  She faced him, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "What?"

  "Your friend, Charles—"

  Stephanie gave a weak laugh. Friend, indeed. Stephanie seemed to be making quite the collection of so-called friends.

  "Do you remember he was talking to a man the day we met in the hotel?"

  "Yes."

  "His name is Mr. McGregor. Have you heard that name before?"

  Stephanie searched her weary mind and shrugged.

  "He was a priest in town. He was excommunicated after some rather...unfortunate situations became public knowledge. Since then, he's taken part in a great deal of unsavory affairs."

  "Such as?"

  Theodore sighed. "This is going to sound ridiculous, I'm aware. But I need you to understand what kind of man he is."

  Stephanie nodded. Her mind was alert again as she waited with bated breath.

  "I don't know why he was excommunicated, but you can be sure that it wasn't for being a good shepherd. Since then, there have been rumors of him being involved with some...criminal elements. He's not a man to be trusted."

  "My God," she said, planting a hand on her chest. The absence of her mother's locket pained her.

  "Please, Stephanie," he said, stepping towards her and taking her hand. "Do you know why Charles might have anything to do with him?"

  "No, I haven't got a clue."

  "Come now, Stephanie, think! You must have seen or heard something in all the time you've been there."

  She pulled her hand away. "I told you, I haven't."

  He turned away from her, his brow deeply furrowed. "There isn't much darkness left. Forget the coach. Arriving in the morning will cause too many questions. I will take you myself. We should go."

  The ride back to the manor was long, quiet, and cold. The frozen air crept into the spaces under her coat and clothing. Behind her neck, up her dress, under her coat sleeves. Cold air was well trained in the art of seeking out warmth and it found and stole every bit of it from Stephanie. The cold and uncomfortable quiet was exacerbated by the blazing itch overcoming the skin on her hands. She fought, with gritted teeth against the desire to scratch. She wondered what Theodore must be thinking as she gripped his waist tightly, controlling the urge to rake her fiery skin. But he didn't say anything so neither did she.

  When they arrived back to the manor, Theodore jumped from the horse first and lifted her down.

  He didn't let go of her hands, though. She wanted to pull away but the warmth from his skin made it impossible.

  "Stephanie," he started, an earnest expression on his face. "I know you must hate me now, but please—"

  "Yes?" she asked, looking up into his sad eyes.

  "Will you please share with me what you learned from Rebecca?"

  Stephanie's face fell into a scowl as she pulled her hands away. "Goodnight, Theodore." She turned away.

  He grabbed her arm, spinning her around. "You may not like me at the moment, but I'm currently the only person trying to help you. Believe it or not, I am trying to help you. Do not push me away."

  "Fine," she said and explained everything that had passed between herself and Rebecca in the hotel. She explained her mother's fear and later death, how she'd found her mother's ring in the cabin, and how she'd traded her locket for the information.

  "Ah ha," he said, crossing his arms. "I see I wasn't the only one keeping secrets."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You told me you didn't have the locket, that you hadn't stolen it."

  "I didn't steal it! It was always mine."

  "So how did she get it in the first place?"

  "I—I was in trouble. She agreed to help me if I'd give her the locket." Her hand went to her stomach which suddenly felt hollow. "It wasn't a fair trade."

  "And the ring?" All jest left his voice. "You weren't going to tell me that the ring you found was your mother's. Don't tell me it just slipped your mind. I know you are far too smart for that."

  She opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. He was right, she had deliberately kept information from him. And why shouldn't she? No one thought twice about keeping secrets from her. What did she owe this man?

  "We have to start trusting each other, Stephanie." He took her by the shoulders. "I want to help but I can't do that with only pieces of the story."

  All the fight drained from her, although a slight layer of resentment remained. She nodded.

  "Good," he said with a smile. "I'll return to town and continue looking into this McGregor fellow, in the meantime, I need you to find out what you can about him from the inside."

  "How can I do that?"

  "Listen through doors, peek through keyholes. I thought maids were experts at learning the business of their employers."

  "I always wanted to know as little as possible. Life was easier in the Burbank household that way."

  "You might try seeing what you can get from Charles as well. He seems quite...taken with you."

  "Charles is gone."

  "What? But...when did that happen?"

  "A few days ago," she said, pulling away. "He'd just left in the night, without a word to anyone."

  "And you didn't think that was important to tell me? God knows where he could be now."

  "What does that matter?"

  Theodore scoffed. "What does that matter? He didn't leave to go pick flowers, Stephanie. I could have followed him. He could be anywhere by now, it could take weeks to find where he's gone."

  "I didn't think...I didn't realize it was important."

  "Well, it is," he snapped, then stopped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you." He touched her cheek briefly. "You can't be expected to know everything. I expect too much from you."

  She looked to the ground. "What will you do?"

  "I must find him. Learn what he is doing. What his game is."

  Stephanie nodded. "In the meantime, I will learn what I can about Father McGregor."

  Theodore nodded absentmindedly, lost in thought. He pressed his closed fist against his lips as he murmured to himself.

  "I can talk to Maggie. She may know something about him."

  Theodore was pulled from his thoughts. "What? Oh, yes, very well." He turned back towards his horse and pulled himself up. "We will keep in contact. Finding Charles may force me to travel some, so if I don't respond to your messages right away, don't worry yourself."

  Stephanie nodded, folding her hands behind her back.

  "And Stephanie?"

  "Yes?" She was desperate to be finished with this conversation so that she could return to her bed.

  "With Charles gone, who is watching over Victor?"

  "Mrs. Callowell."

  "And there are no other men in the house? Stephanie, that concerns me. If Victor gets free, God-knows-what he could do."

  "We do know what he could do though, don't we? Don't worry yourself, Mrs. Callowell keeps him well guarded."

  "All the same, I don't want you going near him."

  She
supposed his sense of decency required him to say such a thing. Warn her while sending her off into the lion's den. Hold her hand while using the other to push her off a cliff so that he could do so with a clear conscience.

  "Of course, Mr. Bixely."

  "I will notify you if I learn something of value. Goodbye." The horse darted forward with great speed.

  "Goodbye," she said to his back.

  Chapter 32

  Stephanie

  STEPHANIE TIPTOED ACROSS the foyer; even her quiet steps echoed and bounced off the high ceiling and walls. She was almost to the top of the stairs when she heard soft voices. She froze against the wall, gripping the railing. For the time being, she was hidden, but if she were to take another step away from the stairs, one way or the other, she would be exposed.

  The door to the servant's quarters opened and shut again. Stephanie recognized Mrs. Callowell's voice.

  "I can't control him. Fredrick is getting stronger every day. Without Charles' help, I need you to hold him down."

  Fredrick? But he's dead?

  "But is that safe?" Maggie asked.

  Stephanie felt her heart drop as the footsteps rounded the corner.

  Mrs. Callowell jumped back. "Stephanie! You scared me," she said holding the candle close to her face.

  Stephanie looked to the ground, hiding her hands behind her back. They shook like they had minds of their own. "Sorry, ma'am." She added a slight curtsey.

  "Everything's quite all right, Stephanie. You can go back to bed."

  Stephanie looked up at her, confused. "Ma'am?"

  A scream, high-pitched and desperate, rang through the air. Stephanie jumped back against the wall. Her hands flew to her face as the screams continued, growing louder and more desperate.

  "It's all right, Stephanie," Mrs. Callowell said, appearing before her. She took Stephanie's shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "My god." She took a step back. "What's happened to your hands?"

  Stephanie's attention turned from the screaming man back to Mrs. Callowell, whose eyes were fixed on Stephanie's hands. She held them out in front of her. Angry red blisters covered them, crawling up under her coat.

  Mrs. Callowell grabbed one of her hands, pulling it close to her face. "Just as I thought. Poison ivy." She gave a lingering, calculating stare to Maggie, who seemed to flinch and step back from her stare. She turned back to Stephanie. "May I see your legs, Stephanie?" she asked, her face cold and stony.