Felicia's Spirits

by Marie Higgins

“That is all, Alberto,” Felicia told him in a sharp tone.

  “Pardon me, my lady, but... was someone just in your room? I heard you talking as though you were carrying on a conversation.”

  Inwardly, she groaned. This had always been her fear whenever she talked to her spirit friends. “Actually, you heard me reading aloud.” Her gaze dropped to the papers still scattered over her quilt. “I was reading these letters. Forgive me for worrying you.”

  His shoulders relaxed and he nodded. “Then I shall leave.”

  Once the door was closed, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, he believed her.

  She glanced around the now empty room, thankful that she was finally alone. She hoped the spirits would allow her to live her life without them. Guardian angels? She thought not.

  The tea’s aroma brought her out of her thoughts and she moved off the bed to pour her a cup of tea. But as she sipped, her mind wasn’t on the taste of minty tea-leaves coating her tongue, but instead, she thought about the jewelry box in her husband’s room. How could she open it when it was nailed shut?

  “The gardener’s shed!”

  She set the tea cup down before darting out of the room and scurrying down the stairs. When she realized how eager she was, she quickly slowed her movements. She couldn’t have the staff curious to why she was running outside to the gardener’s shed, now could she? It still saddened her that she couldn’t trust anyone here. They had all worked for Edwin... Did that mean they knew he was a thief? Had they helped him, too?

  Outside, she walked by the flowers and bushes as if she were casually strolling along the grounds, even as she reached the shed, she tried to look like she hadn’t had a purpose there. Once inside, she spotted the hand-tool that would help her pry off the nails from the wood.

  Hiding the tool in the folds of her dress as she clutched it tightly, she strolled back toward the house. A breeze blew against her back, teasing her long hair. Eeriness crawled over her suddenly. Someone was watching her. She knew this feeling well. But she also knew not to stop and look around as she tried to find the peeping Tom. All she could do was pray that they hadn’t noticed the tool she tried to hide.

  She stepped inside the house and closed the door. With a deep sigh of relief, she took her time climbing the stairs even though she really wanted to rush to Edwin’s room and see if her suspicions were correct.

  When she reached Edwin’s room, she glanced up and down the hall, searching for servants, but she couldn’t see any. Quietly, she opened the door and stepped inside. Darkness surrounded her except for the small sliver of light peeking between the drapes. Her nose tickled from the dusty scent, and she covered her mouth with her hand to keep from sneezing.

  She pulled back a drape in order to search the room. As her gaze landed on the box hanging on the wall, she blew out a pent-up breath. Within minutes, she had taken down the box from the wall, and closed the drape. She listened against the door for any sounds of footsteps outside, but she detected nothing. Carefully, she slipped out as easily as she’d slipped in.

  This time, she didn’t stop from rushing to her room and shutting the door behind her. She moved aside the papers on her quilt to make room for her other project. Her hands shook as she grasped the tool and aimed it toward a nail. For certain, a man would be more familiar with doing this, but because she couldn’t trust anyone, she would attempt this herself.

  She carefully squeezed the narrow tool between the two boards which were nailed together, hoping to pry it open that way. She pressed as hard as she could, but it wouldn’t budge. Growling, she tried again, harder this time. Moisture popped on her forehead from the strain she was under. But she wouldn’t give up – or ask for help.

  Cussing a word she hadn’t used for a few years made her chuckle. Back then she hadn’t been a lady. Now she was. But that didn’t mean she’d forget what words to use in different hectic situations... this being one of them.

  “Felicia... Help me!”

  Felicia’s heart dropped and her hands froze in fear. Why could she hear her mother calling for help? She moved her gaze around the room. Empty. Had she been hearing things?

  She shook her head, wondering if it was her imagination playing tricks on her, and she concentrated back on the jewelry box.

  “Felicia... Please. I need your help!”

  She inhaled quickly and stood, dropping the items in her hands to the bed. Tear pricked her eyes. “Mother? Is that you?” Her heart wrenched. “If I can hear you, then that means...” Her voice broke. “No, Mother. You cannot be dead. I won’t accept that.”

  “Felicia... Come to me.”

  She sobbed with frustration. Her gaze kept darting around the room. “I would if I knew where you were. Where is Mortimer hiding you?”

  “In... the cellar.”

  Her heart leapt. Does that mean her mother heard her? “What cellar, mother?”

  “You were there... with Mortimer.”

  Felicia’s mind scrambled to know what place her mother was referring to. Had she been somewhere with Mortimer that had a cellar? The only two places she’d been with that evil man was here at her house or at the Chiostro Grande when he’d told her to get Sebastian out of the way.

  She dashed to the door, but stopped quickly, turning to look back at the tool and jewelry box on the bed. Grumbling, she hurried back to the bed, placed the items underneath and covered them with a blanket before leaving the room.

  The servants watched her with curious gazes as Felicia rushed down the stairs toward the cellar.

  “My lady,” Mrs. Capener called out. “May I help you with something?”

  Felicia ignored the older woman and stayed on task. She reached the cellar and pulled on the doorknob, but the room was locked. The stairs boomed with loud footsteps as Mrs. Capener and Alberto clamored down the stairs.

  “Lady Adler,” Alberto began.

  “Where is the key?” Felicia demanded. “Fetch me the key now!”

  Mrs. Capener’s breath wheezed when she stopped in front of Felicia. “My l-lady. There is... n-nothing in the cellar for you.”

  Felicia glared at the servant. “I’ll be the judge of that. Now get me that key, or I swear, I’ll dismiss you from your position in this household.” She threw a scowl at Alberto. “The same goes for you.”

  The cook nodded vigorously as she reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew a key. With a shaky hand, she brought it forth.

  Felicia snatched it and unlocked the door. She shoved it open and entered...

  Her mother wasn’t there.

  There was no time to waste. She’d have to hurry to the old church and pray her mother was still alive.

  “Mother, stay strong. I’m coming!”

  FELICIA RODE THE HORSE hard until reaching the church. Her heart beat irregularly, but she’d prayed silently for the Lord to help her.

  Before leaving her home, she grabbed a cloak she’d used as an agent which had hidden pockets inside; one that held her pistol and one that held her knife. She was prepared this time. If Mortimer tried to stop her, she’d use one of her weapons. Why she hadn’t thought of this sooner, she didn’t know. But determination was the factor moving her body today.

  The sun floated high in the cloudless sky, but the temperature wasn’t very warm. However, beads of perspiration coated her forehead as if she’d been running a race.

  When she reached her destination, she stopped her horse and dismounted. Several people had gathered inside the courtyard, but she didn’t care if they thought she was crazy. She would search through every room in this place until she found her mother.

  As she hurried from one room to the next, she couldn’t see a cellar. But it had to be here. This was the only other place she’d been with Mortimer.

  The more rooms she’d searched that were empty, the more her heart wrenched with desperation. Her limbs were weary and her mind exhausted, but she continued on until she’d searched through every room surrounding the square yard. The only p
lace she hadn’t looked was the chapel.

  Disgust tightened her stomach when she recalled her meeting with Mortimer. She’d felt so weak. He’d made her that way. She vowed he’d never make her feel vulnerable again.

  A handful of people sat in the pews as they prayed. Knowing the Lord presided here from time to time, she kept her footsteps reverent as she headed toward the front of the church. Near the front was a side door... the very door Mortimer had come when she met with him that distressing day.

  Holding her breath, she grasped the doorknob – and it opened. She crept inside, keeping a sharp eye for Mortimer or anyone who tried to stop her. From the cupboards and tables and fireplaces, she surmised this place had once been a kitchen... and kitchens had cellars.

  She inspected each door throughout the room, but none of them led to the cellar. Stopping, tears filled her eyes as anger uprooted in her heart. She grumbled and stomped her foot on the rugged wooden floor. No! She wouldn’t accept that there was no cellar.

  As soon as her mind screamed the injustice, she realized when she’d stomped her foot, the floor sounded differently. She stomped her foot again. It sounded almost hollow.

  She knelt and frantically moved the rug until she saw... A trap door!

  She yanked on the handle, but it was locked. Panic consumed her, and she continued to jerk on the handle, but to no avail. She was so close, and yet she couldn’t get inside.

  Then she suddenly remembered the knife hiding inside her cloak. Using the pointed edge of the weapon as a key, she moved it around. Suddenly, it clicked.

  Thank you, Lord!

  As she opened the trap door, she peered inside. The light from the kitchen’s curtainless windows shone brightly as if the Almighty had planned a way to get light into the cellar. There were a few steps leading down into the room, but something was at the bottom of the stairs. A body.

  Leaning closer, she peered at the figure until her vision could adjust to the darkness. “Mother?”

  Slowly, the body moved and peered up. Matted black hair framed the person’s unrecognizable face. But then Felicia noticed the familiar gown the woman wore. “Mother!”

  “Felicia, you came,” her mother said weakly.

  “Yes, I heard you calling for me.”

  Her mother gave her a weary smile. “I knew you would.”

  “Ah, look what we have here. What a special family reunion.”

  The man’s deep voice startled Felicia and she fell back on the floor. Looming over her was the very man she loathed. She prayed she had the strength to fight him.

  “However did you guess where I’d hidden your mother?”

  Felicia rose to her feet, glaring at the man who was out of disguise, looking like the disgusting employer she’d known for several years.

  “Because I heard her call to me.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You heard her? Pray, how could you hear her?”

  “I have many talents you don’t know about.”

  “Then enlighten me.” He folded his arms smugly.

  “Never.” She shook her head. “Never again will I allow you to make me feel weak. You do not own me or my mother.”

  “Ah, I beg to differ. I have you and your mother right where I want you... Under my control.”

  “That, Mr. Mortimer, will end today!”

  “And are you going to stop me?”

  She gave him a sharp nod. “Indeed, I will.”

  Mortimer chuckled as he scratched his chin. “You and what army? Many have tried to stop me, but none have succeeded.”

  From in back of Mortimer, Felicia noticed a police officer creeping up behind Mortimer, holding a pistol toward the evil man. Hope sprang inside of her. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the same officer who’d come with Rossi when they told her about Sebastian’s body. What was the man’s name... Officer Petri? With this man’s help, they would be able to take Mortimer down.

  She didn’t dare look at the officer for fear Mortimer would suspect someone was behind him. But the wheels were turning in the man’s head, and she feared he’d know. To distract him, she quickly withdrew her knife.

  “Mortimer, perhaps no man has tried to stop you before, but I am not a man. And I assure you, I will stop you.”

  NINETEEN

  Felicia’s heart raced as Mortimer’s expression turned black. His gaze practically pierced right through her. But that didn’t bother her, because now she’d distracted him enough that he didn’t know Officer Petri was standing behind him.

  “You are one crazy woman,” Mortimer muttered as he slowly came toward her. “I’d heard rumors about you – that you talked to ghosts. I didn’t believe them until now.”

  She shrugged. “I’m alive today because my spirit friends have warned me of danger.” After she’d said the words, she realized they were true. They had helped her through life, so why had she scolded her father and told him to stay away? She must not worry about that right now. She needed to concentrate on Mortimer. “And they were warning me about you, except I didn’t listen. Now I wish I had.”

  Mortimer chuckled. “You are certainly a dimwit.”

  “A dimwit with a knife.” She held it out toward him, threatening.

  “Once again, you cease to listen to reason. You cannot hurt me.”

  “Why?” She arched an eyebrow. “Are you one of my spirit guides who have died, too?”

  “No, and I never will be.”

  “Exactly, because where you’re going after I kill you won’t be anywhere near Heaven.”

  He released a growl as he lunged at her, but she was prepared, and she slashed her knife across his chest just as she jumped out of the way. He yelped and touched his side as blood coated his shirt. He brought up his hand now stained with his own blood.

  He threw Felicia a murderous scowl and swung his arm, knocking the knife out of her hand. The weapon rolled on the floor and fell through the open trap door. Mortimer hit her again, and she fell to the floor.

  Fear gripped Felicia’s heart for a moment. Without her weapon, she was defenseless.

  “You’re going to die now,” he threatened.

  “Actually, she’s not,” Officer Petri snapped in a very familiar sounding English voice. “But you are.”

  Mortimer gasped and swung around, facing the man who held the pistol.

  The officer’s expression grew stern as his gaze narrowed. Keeping his hand holding the pistol steady, he used his other hand to remove the uniform hat and wig.

  Felicia’s legs grew weak as she stared at Sebastian’s very-much-alive face. Or... was he one of her spirit guides, too? And yet, Mortimer looked at Sebastian with wide, frightened eyes, so Sebastian must be alive.

  “You... you... you...” Mortimer muttered as he shook his head.

  “Oh, forgive me for not properly introducing myself to you. I’m Sebastian Harrington – the man who is going to kill you.”

  Tears filled Felicia’s eyes again, but this time joy grew in her chest. As much as she wanted to run to him and fling herself into his arms, they needed to focus on Mortimer first.

  Slowly, the evil man straightened as he kept his gaze on Sebastian.

  “You, Mr. Harrington, will not kill me. You are an officer for the Metropolitan Police. I am no threat to you.”

  Bash nodded. “Not at the moment, however you are a threat to Felicia. And because you imprisoned and held her mother for ransom, I have every right by the law to do whatever means necessary to protect victims.” He stepped closer to Mortimer, but the evil man retreated.

  “You do not scare me, Mr. Harrington.”

  Bash chuckled. “Indeed? Then tell me why the color in your face has disappeared, and why there is fear in your eyes. I must say, I do like your expression much better now than before.”

  “Please... put the pistol down. We can talk this out as adults. There is no need for violence.”

  Bash tilted his head. “Very curious. Tell me, Mortimer. How does it feel to have your life threatened? How d
oes it feel to be so helpless you must beg for your life?”

  “I-I-I’m not begging.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “Not yet, you’re not. But I can change that.” He quickened his step toward Mortimer as he pointed the pistol toward his head, which had the man scrambling backwards faster.

  Not seeing where he was going, Mortimer must have forgotten about the opened cellar door. The man tilted, windmilling his arms to gain his balance, but it wasn’t enough. He fell through the trap door.

  Felicia screamed and reached for him. Her mother was at the bottom. Mortimer would land on her and might injure her mother!

  The man hit the ground with a heavy thud, and the sickening sound boomed throughout the room.

  Sebastian hurried to the trap door and peered inside. Felicia scooted to the edge, hoping to see if her mother was hurt. The sunlight from the windows helped brighten the darkened space.

  Mortimer lay on his back as a knife protruded from his chest. Kneeling beside him with her hand still on the hilt of the knife was her mother. She looked up at Felicia and Sebastian.

  “Forgive me, but... this needed to be done,” Felicia’s mother said wearily. “I couldn’t allow him to hurt another person ever again.”

  “Not to worry,” Sebastian said. “If you hadn’t killed him, I would have.”

  “Or I would have.” Felicia stared up at Sebastian as tears clogged her eyes. She reached her hand up and grasped his, squeezing his fingers.

  He knelt on one knee beside her and cupped her face. “Do you forgive me for letting you believe I was dead?”

  “I... don’t know. I’ll think about that later. Right now, I’m just so very relieved you are alive.” She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I’m so very happy that I finally get to tell the man I’ve loved for four years how I feel.”

  He smiled. “I knew you loved me even though you’d never said the words. And I love you more than life itself.”

  “Even if...” She took a cleansing breath, trying to gain courage. “Even if I can see and talk to ghosts?”

  “So, it’s true?”