Ghost House

by Alexandra Adornetto

  “Alex?” I made sure to keep my voice down. “Are you still here?” The curtains shimmered as if they were about to catch fire before he simply materialized from within their folds.

  “You don’t think he saw anything, do you?” I asked. Alex seemed unfazed.

  “I hid for your benefit. I thought you might be uncomfortable. But unlike you, your brother isn’t able to access the dimension I reside in. I could have been standing right in front of him and he would have been none the wiser.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I was protective of Rory; he’d been through enough in recent times and didn’t need to contend with the supernatural, as well. Alex studied my face.

  “Get some rest. You look tired.”

  “Where are you going?” I’d grown accustomed to having him around; I wasn’t sure I wanted him to leave.

  “I won’t be far.”

  “Right, so you can protect me.” I gave a playful smirk.

  “You shouldn’t jest about things you don’t understand.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t jest if someone enlightened me,” I replied pertly. But he was already gone, leaving only a faded outline in the space he’d just occupied. I flopped down in the window seat and cleared a circle on the misty glass with the sleeve of my sweater. I gazed out at the frosted treetops, wondering where Alex was and what he was thinking. The room felt impersonal and empty without him.

  I showered and changed into my sweats but I wasn’t ready for sleep. So I settled down to read my nineteenth-century French classic, which was equally difficult because I kept getting distracted thinking about Alex. Where was he right now? Could he see me? Where did ghosts hang out when they weren’t manifesting—on the roof, in the treetops or inside the walls? I liked to imagine him perched on the roof wrapped in a cloak, impervious to the weather. By now I’d read the same sentence at least eight times and decided to put the book down. I left the lamp on for security and closed my eyes.

  I felt like I’d only been asleep a few minutes when I heard it.

  My whole body tensed at the sound of voices floating from what seemed to be outside my door. At first I assumed it was Alex, keeping vigil, but listening more closely, I realized there were two voices, one musical and lilting, the other deeper and more resonant. Even though I couldn’t make out what was being said, the overall tone sounded urgent. I wondered what they were doing here—the upper floor was Gran’s private quarters and off-limits to guests.

  I checked my watch and saw that it was close to midnight. Barefoot, I tiptoed to my door and opened it a crack. The landing was deserted and silent. I crept down the hall and stuck my head into Rory’s room. He was fast asleep, snoring softly under a mound of covers. The hum of voices started up again, louder this time as though the people were right behind me.

  I found myself drifting down the staircase, the wall sconces lighting my way. Once I was in the foyer I realized the voices were now coming from the library. The man sounded stern and I thought the woman might be crying. The door was already open, so it didn’t even feel like spying as I inched my way closer.

  “Chloe!” I whirled around to see Alex at the top of the staircase. His ponytail had come loose as if he’d been in a great hurry to get to me. There was an odd, imploring look on his face. His hand was half-raised, as if he was trying to pull me back. What was up? I trusted him and wanted to listen, but the compulsion pulling me toward the room was too strong to ignore.

  I turned my back on him and walked toward the door. Something happened to me then that was entirely new. My world fell away, collapsing like a house of cards. I knew the ghost of Alex was still behind me. I even had the feeling that he was still talking to me, but I couldn’t hear him. The scene playing out before my eyes was so riveting I couldn’t have torn myself away even if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to. I knew as clearly as I knew my own name that I’d gone back through time… .

  * * *

  In the lavishly decorated library the most ravishing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on stands in an embroidered dressing gown that trails the floor. Unaware of my entrance, she gazes intently into the face of a young man in riding boots and a loose cambric shirt.

  The man is Alexander Reade.

  The library and its occupants are bathed in a golden light. I hover at the door, merely an onlooker. But I can no longer move. It’s as if someone demands I see this. If I try to move, a searing pain in my head cripples me and roots me to the spot. Being here feels wrong, and if I could find my voice I’d apologize for the intrusion.

  The woman’s gown is made of rich silk brocade in a deep jade color that sets off her loose coal-black curls. Her skin is the color of moonstones, and the nails on her long fingers are polished gems. The arch of her brow is so perfect it could have been painted on. There’s something both earthy and exotic in the composition of her features, something regal and wild at the same time. I recognize her from somewhere, but at first I can’t work out where. Then it hits me. Although her hair isn’t matted now and her dress is immaculate, this is the woman from the wardrobe. She couldn’t look further removed from the decaying apparition I last encountered. Everything is different, except for her eyes. They are the same eyes that stared back at me from the dark recesses of the wardrobe, almond-shaped and the color of liquid amber.

  She is so poised now; her trembling lip is the only indicator that she might be on the brink of tears. Alexander stands in front of her, calm and composed. But I can see he’s struggling, despite the sternness in his eyes.

  Instinctively, I know this meeting is risky. It shouldn’t be happening. What are they doing there alone at this hour? The tension in the air is palpable and I find myself worried for them, the way you are for the protagonists in your favorite TV drama.

  The household has retired for the night, but they could still be discovered at any moment. I know somehow that Isobel’s husband is away on business. But what if he returns unexpectedly? What if one of the servants stumbles unwittingly on them? They haven’t even had the sense to draw the curtains. They’ll be in full view should someone drive up at this moment. They’re like teenagers made reckless by passion and throwing caution to the wind.

  A silver candelabrum on top of the grand piano lights up the room. I realize as I stand there that this isn’t the same room Gran showed us on her tour. The computers are gone and the furniture is heavier, covered in rich fabrics. Ancestral portraits hang from the walls. There’s one of Isobel, in a flowing white gown, above the mantel. Pearls are woven through her hair and her eyes, bold and haughty, look out at the spectator. But now, slumped on the sofa, she seems vulnerable. She doesn’t speak for several protracted minutes.

  Alex attempts to leave but she reaches out and pulls him toward her. He doesn’t resist and they sit together side by side, desolate and desperate. He lowers his head into his hands with a groan.

  “Alexander,” she murmurs fondly, trailing her fingertips down the back of his neck.

  “No, Isobel, we cannot continue like this any longer.”

  She shakes her head, refusing to listen. “You don’t mean that.”

  He sits up straighter and clasps her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “I’m deadly serious.”

  “I won’t listen to talk like that. You can’t make me!” She wrenches herself free and begins pacing the room in growing agitation.

  “We knew this day would come,” Alex continues more gently. “We have to be strong now.”

  “Strong?” The look on her face changes from desperate to mocking; all traces of her earlier vulnerability are gone. The mood shift is unsettling to watch.

  “So turning your back on me is being strong? It’s strong to return me to a life of misery?”

  “God knows how long I’ve agonized over this decision,” Alex mutters through a clenched jaw. “Do you think I want to abandon you?”r />
  The fact that she succeeds in eroding his composure fuels Isobel’s strength. “Then don’t!”

  Alex drags his hands through his hair in frustration. “We can’t be discreet. To continue is madness.”

  “Then let’s choose madness!”

  “You’re not thinking rationally or you wouldn’t say such things.”

  “I can speak for myself.”

  “But you cannot speak for me.”

  His comment, barely audible, sparks an unexpected burst of anger.

  “Then go if that’s what you want! I won’t hold you. Leave me to my suffering. Do you think if I had known who he really was I would have married him? I was young and naive with an uncertain future. Judge me if you will.”

  “I don’t judge you, but we must all live with the choices we make.”

  “So I must be punished for my mistake until the day I die?” Her eyes are awash with tears until they fall, streaming down her flawless skin.

  Alex dissolves at the sight. When he speaks, I can hear the defeat in his voice. “I’m not trying to punish you, my love. I’m only trying to save us. Do you care so little for the welfare of your soul?”

  She brushes away tears and defiantly meets his gaze. “What do I care about my soul when I’m already in hell? But I see you think only of yourself.”

  “It’s you I’m thinking about!” Alex’s whole body reflects his frustration. “If we are discovered, the world will dismiss my actions as folly, but your life will be ruined.”

  “Stop preaching! If I wanted sermons I’d go to church.”

  He looks at her with an expression of deep regret. “I take full responsibility for what happened between us. I succumbed to weakness. Forgive me, Isobel, and erase me from your mind.”

  “How can I? Give me a less impossible task.” She drops her head and bursts into ragged sobs.

  In an instant he is by her side. “Don’t cry. I can’t bear it.”

  He pulls her hands away from her face and presses each of her fingertips to his lips. There’s something so powerful in the gesture that it stops her midsob. She bites her lip and gazes at him with eyes that even the most resolute man would find hard to resist. Their breathing quickens. A moment later, his face is buried in her neck, and she’s clutching fistfuls of his hair. They’re so lost in each other that their faces blur when they kiss.

  “I can’t go back to the way things were,” Isobel moans, when they finally break apart. “I don’t have the strength!”

  Alex kisses her reverently on the forehead and stands with a new resolve. “Then we have but one choice, my love. But it requires courage.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We must tell Carter the truth and leave Grange Hall forever. We can start afresh, somewhere far from here. We’ll go to New York, where no one will know us. We can apply for an annulment—God knows you have the grounds. If you truly cannot live without me, then come away with me.”

  I watch in terror as hope, confusion and finally panic cross Isobel’s face.

  “Tell Carter?” she echoes.

  “It’s the only way.”

  “Have you taken leave of your senses? Have you not seen his treatment of the servants? He’s hardly the forgiving type.”

  “We aren’t his servants.”

  “We may as well be. This is too rash, Alexander. Let’s sleep on things and talk again tomorrow.” Her measured response can’t help but be disheartening.

  “Of course,” he says. “Take as much time as you need.”

  She heads to the window and looks out into the dark night. “How would we live?”

  The question offers him a glimmer of hope and he answers readily, “Modestly at first, until I can establish myself. But we will be together. Isn’t that all that matters?”

  “He’ll never permit it.”

  “The world is big, my love,” Alex replies, “and not all places as narrow as here.”

  “I can’t be expected to live like a gypsy,” Isobel cries. “Shunned by polite society.”

  Alex walks over to the grate and kicks it with the toe of his boot. A shower of sparks is released into the air.

  “Then what would you have me do?”

  “Just stay.”

  She’s not easy to resist with her luminous skin and glittering eyes. Alex exhales so loudly I think his lungs might collapse. He presses his lips in a tight line.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” she cries, sounding as plaintive as a child.

  “Because I want to be better than that.”

  Isobel opens her mouth but this time words elude her. What more is there to say? I feel my blood frost over as she glides past me, the fabric of her gown rustling on the floor.

  I watch as she sweeps up the staircase without once looking back.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I found myself lying on my back on Gran’s Oriental rug staring vacantly at the ceiling. Alex was there, by my side. I could hear his voice ringing in my head as the real world crystallized slowly around me.

  “Chloe, can you hear me?” Cool fingers trailed against my cheek. Was it my imagination or was he really touching me?

  I wanted to ask, but my throat was too parched to form words. Instead, I tried sitting up, which wasn’t such a great idea. Black splotches exploded across my field of vision and my legs felt as if they were made of jelly. I sank back down against Alex. Even through my daze, I was aware of his scent, like the woods after a rainstorm, when everything has been washed clean. He smelled of new beginnings.

  “Slow down, Chloe.” How was it possible for someone’s voice to carry so much power?

  “Everything’s blurry,” I mumbled.

  “It’ll pass in a moment. Hold on to me.”

  To my surprise, my hand closed around his wrist. I blinked slowly as the mass of shapes around me came into focus. The first thing I saw was Alex’s face, so radiantly beautiful, it was hard not to feel like the wind had been knocked out of me all over again. But as soon as my head cleared and my pulse returned to normal, his hand seemed to disintegrate around mine. He was still there, but now my fingers passed right through him.

  “What just happened?” I croaked. His blue eyes were wide and watchful.

  “I can’t be sure,” he replied. “But I think you broke through.”

  “Broke through what?”

  “Time…” He paused. “And space.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” My knowledge of time travel came from Harry Potter, and I was pretty sure I didn’t have a time turner.

  “More ridiculous than this conversation?”

  He had a point there. If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I would strike up a friendship with an absurdly good-looking nineteenth-century ghost who lived halfway across the world, I would have assumed they were either tripping or certifiable.

  “Well, no.” I gave a goofy smile, which I immediately tried to smother.

  “You fainted.” His whole face was pinched with worry. His phrasing made it sound almost romantic and transported me back to a time when women swooned over men on horseback. It definitely sounded better than you fell over like an uncoordinated idiot, which was what I would have said. I’d never fainted before in my entire life, although I’d seen it happen to Natalie after doing too many Jäger bombs on an empty stomach. Afterward we’d had to sit with her all night while she hugged the rim of the bathtub. “How much do you remember?”

  “Everything.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  I took a breath. I wasn’t sure I wanted to share what I’d seen, but it was Alex’s life I’d been intruding on, so he probably had a right to know. Besides, he was the only one who could help me make sense of this new and bizarre situation.

 
“I saw you and Isobel here in this room,” I began slowly. “She was crying because she wanted you to stay with her and you wouldn’t. You said you were better than that.”

  It was the abridged version, but it was the best I could manage right now.

  “You saw that?” His voice was slightly strained and he averted his eyes. “I’m so ashamed.”

  “You don’t need to be,” I said. “Not with me.”

  “You don’t think ill of me?”

  “Why would I judge you over something that happened a hundred years ago? That would be a little unfair. People make mistakes.”

  “You’re the first person ever to say that,” Alex murmured. “But still, I can’t imagine why you saw what you did.”

  “Well, that makes two of us. But can we talk about it tomorrow?” My world was starting to spin again. “I think I need to go back to bed.”

  “Of course, forgive me.” Alex looked apologetic. “Let me escort you back to your room.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Alex lifted his chin, almost as if he’d taken offense. “I will not leave you in this condition.”

  For some reason, I felt an overwhelming urge to be alone. Maybe I didn’t want him to see me so weak when she had been so in charge. Even though she was gone, the room was still charged with her lingering presence. I needed a few minutes alone to digest what had just happened, and Alex had a habit of knocking all the thoughts right out of my head.

  “I’m just going to get some water,” I said, heading for the door.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, don’t,” I said, and he stopped short. “Just meet me in my room later, okay? We can talk things over then.”

  “As you wish.” His voice had a slight stiffness to it now, as if he felt dismissed. I knew he only wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure he could. Maybe we were both in over our heads. I watched as he faded away before my eyes, like an image in an old tapestry.

  I found my way to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. Then I sat down at the scrubbed farmhouse table and let each ice-cold sip sober me and clear my thoughts. I didn’t try to make sense of anything yet. All I knew was that the specters had retreated and there were no more voices in my head…at least for now. One thing I knew for sure, Alexander and Isobel had been wildly in love, a dangerous, illicit love that was doomed from the start. But why were their ghosts still trapped at Grange Hall? Was their connection so strong even death couldn’t sever it? What had happened after the exchange I witnessed? Did they run away together? Somehow, I doubted it. Had Alexander left Grange Hall or stayed behind to remain with her? The dark history he spoke of was coming to life before my eyes. Only, this time, I wasn’t afraid. Whatever secrets lay hidden within these walls, I was determined to know them.