by Wendy Webb
“I suppose you do.” I smiled at him.
And so, I found myself climbing the stairs to the third floor behind Richard Banks. We were both holding our flashlights, shining the beams ahead of us. He did a quick sweep of the ward and found nothing. I looked over toward Miss Penny’s room and shivered.
“That’s where we have to go,” I said, and we made our way across the room. I pushed open the door, and we shone our beams up and down throughout the room but saw nothing out of place. It was as tidy as the last time I had seen it.
But then I remembered the little doorway. “There’s one more place to check,” I whispered.
I led him toward the door, and we both crouched and walked through it.
“Well, this is unusual,” Richard whispered after shining his light around the room and seeing all of the toys.
“It’s like they hadn’t changed it since they were young,” I said. “It’s some kind of shrine to their childhoods.”
He was staring at the shelf of dolls. “God, I hate antique dolls,” he murmured. “There’s really nothing scarier than that.” I couldn’t help laughing, in spite of myself.
But my chuckles died down when I shone my light toward the dollhouse. It looked just the same, initially. Or did it? I bent down and looked carefully from room to room, and then I saw it.
In the dollhouse room that depicted the playroom where we were standing, the tea table participants had changed. I remembered distinctly that the tea party guests had been stuffed bears before. Now they were five people. Three women and two men. Just like the fellows. And then I noticed the doll in the director’s suite. It wasn’t Chester Dare. It was a female, with brown hair like mine. It was me.
I grabbed Richard’s hand and just held his gaze—I couldn’t get any words out.
“What is it, Norrie?” he asked.
“We have to get out of here,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, even to me. “Now.”
And then I pushed him toward the door. We crouched through it, hurried through the bedroom, across the ward, and down the stairs to the second floor. I wanted to run right to my room, but he stopped me at the landing.
“What did you see up there, Norrie?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said, “but right now, we need to get everyone safely into their rooms.”
We hurried our way back to Cassandra’s room. I closed the door and leaned on it, facing the group, my heart beating hard and fast in my chest. “There’s nobody out there,” I said, finally. “We all heard that knock, right?”
“I heard it, clear as a bell,” Henry said.
“Me, too,” Brynn said, pulling her legs up underneath her and shuddering.
Cassandra was leaning down to restart the fire in the fireplace, lighting kindling with a match. “I thought I heard a knock,” she said, then blew on the glowing piece of bark and tucked it under the logs. “But if nobody was there, that just can’t be.”
I crossed to Cassandra’s study and pressed the intercom on the desk, thinking I’d call Harriet—hoping she had been the one to knock and slip away quickly. But there was no crackling, no buzzing. Of course, when the electricity went out, so did the intercom.
Richard was furrowing his brow. “We all heard a knocking,” he said, slowly. “But it might have been something other than someone rapping at the door. Pipes in old houses tend to make loud, knocking noises. It could even have been outside, a tree limb coming down.”
It made sense. But the gnarling in my stomach, and what I had just seen on the third floor, told me differently.
“Listen, everyone,” I began. But Diana caught my eye. She held my gaze, shaking her head ever so slightly. She put a finger to her lips as if to say, Shhhh.
The others hadn’t noticed it, but I understood, as clearly as if she had been whispering in my ear. Don’t upset the others and don’t try to make sense out of it. And for goodness’ sake, stop talking about it.
It made sense. What would I say? That somebody had been playing with the dollhouse?
Brynn was fishing in her purse for something and pulled out her cell phone. “I know we’re not supposed to use these, but . . .” Her words trailed off as she stared at the screen. “I don’t have any service.” She looked up at me. “I haven’t used the phone since I arrived—is there cell service here?”
“There is,” I said, my stomach tightening further.
Cassandra had retrieved her phone from her purse and turned it on. “I don’t have any service, either. No bars.”
My mind ran through several possibilities at once, but then it occurred to me. “I know what happened,” I said. “Harriet told me that lightning hit a transformer. I’ll bet it hit the cell tower, too.”
Richard nodded. “In these remote areas, there’s usually only one, or at most, two. It’s no wonder you don’t get reception.”
“It should be repaired within a day or so,” I said. Brynn dropped the phone back into her purse and sighed.
All at once, I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into my bed and pull the covers up to my chin. I cleared my throat. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night,” I said. “If nobody minds, I’m going to hit the hay.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Henry said, standing and stretching. “We should all turn in.” He looked to Brynn and held out his hand. “Come, my dear. I’ll make sure you get to your room in one piece.” She took his hand and unfurled herself from her chair.
“Everyone, keep your flashlights handy,” I said, shining mine around the room. “And I think it’s best for you all to stay in your rooms, once you get there. And lock and latch your doors behind you. There’s no telling how long the power will be out, and I really don’t want anyone wandering around in the dark downstairs on their own. Agreed?”
Nods and agreement all around.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Brynn said. “I’m locking my door, and I won’t be coming out until morning.” Henry led her down the hallway toward their rooms, and I watched until they disappeared into the darkness.
I turned to Cassandra, who was firing up her laptop. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked her.
She gave me a smile. “I’ve got four hours of battery life left in this thing,” she said. “I might as well get some work done. You anticipate the power being back up in the morning, right?”
I shrugged. “I’m sure the power company is working through the night to get it restored, but I really have no idea when that might be,” I said. “If it’s not on tomorrow morning, I’ll give them a call and see what’s up.”
“We can’t be without our morning coffee, after all,” Richard said with a grin. “We’re not barbarians, are we?”
He and I went through the door together, and Cassandra closed and locked it behind us. I heard the click of the latch, as well.
“Quite an eventful day,” Richard said, as we stepped down the hallway toward our rooms.
“Quite.”
“If you need anything tonight, anything at all, you know where to find me,” he said.
I wasn’t sure if this was a double entendre or if he was seriously concerned about my well-being. I suspected it was a little of both. “I do,” I said to him, as we arrived at his door. “Thanks.”
He took my hand and drew it up to his lips, holding my gaze all the while. “You make sure to lock your door behind you, Eleanor Harper,” he said. He didn’t have to tell me twice.
I headed across the hall to my room, and only then did I see Diana waiting outside my door, a grave expression on her face. I hadn’t noticed her leave Cassandra’s room, but obviously she had slipped out before I did.
“I heard what you said just before the knock,” I whispered to her. “How did you know? Or did you?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I sense things, sometimes.”
“What did you sense, exactly?”
She shook her head. “Just like I said. Something wicked this way
comes.”
I didn’t like the sound of it any more than I’d liked it the first time she’d said it. I looked over her shoulder down the dark hallway and shuddered. “What do you mean, wicked? You’re scaring me a little, Diana.”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “The phrase just popped into my head.”
I looked into her eyes for a long moment. “What do you make of it—the fire and candles going out and then the knock at the door?”
“That was no downdraft, and that was no knocking water pipe,” she said.
“What was it, then?” I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
“I think we have to face the fact, Eleanor, that the closer we get to solving this puzzle, the more we’re going to awaken the spirits here at Cliffside.”
She was right, I could feel it, deep in my bones. But I wanted to hear it from her. “Why do you say that?” I asked her.
“What were we talking about just before it happened?” she asked. “Our connections to this place. Nineteen fifty-two. Temperance. Cassandra’s granddad and Henry’s mother.”
All at once, it was clear as a bell to me. “She’s the nurse who gave Temperance that injection,” I said, my voice low. “I’ll bet anything.”
Diana nodded. “I think you’re right,” she whispered.
“There’s more—something you don’t know,” I said to her. “A couple of days ago, I was looking for something in Penelope Dare’s bedroom on the third floor. I noticed a small door on one wall and went through it and found a playroom.”
“A child’s playroom?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure it was the playroom of Penelope and Chamomile when they were children. There’s all kinds of antique dolls and toys, and among them is a dollhouse. An exact replica of Cliffside.”
A shiver went down my spine as I said it.
“There’s a tea table in the dollhouse just like the one in the playroom, and I swear, somebody manipulated the dolls and set three women and two men at the table for tea.”
She gave me a long look. “Another juvenile act, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Part of me thinks we should all get out of here. But part of me is compelled to stay and see this through.”
She nodded. “All sorts of fears and ideas and scenarios much wilder than the one we just lived through can swirl around in our minds when it’s dark and stormy and we feel vulnerable,” she said. “Let’s wait to sort this out by the light of day. Everything looks different when the sun is shining, don’t you agree?”
She didn’t wait for me to respond. Instead she set off down the hall toward her room. I shone my flashlight beam to guide her way. When she was at her door, she looked back and we nodded to each other. “Goodnight!” I called to her, and then we both opened our doors, slipped inside, and locked them behind us.
CHAPTER 27
I lit several candles around my room, changed into my pajamas, and slipped into bed with a book and my flashlight, snuggling down into the pillows and pulling the covers up as far as they could go. I had only read a few pages when I heard a soft knocking at my door. My heart jumped into my throat.
“Norrie,” Richard said, quickly. “It’s me.”
I hopped out of bed and let him in, shutting and locking the door behind him. “You scared me half to death with that knock,” I said, managing a laugh.
“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I thought of waiting until morning to show you this, but I really don’t know what to make of it, and considering what happened tonight . . .” He let the rest of his thought hang in midair as he sank down into one of the chairs, a strange look of confusion on his face. Only then did I notice he was carrying his camera.
“What is it?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “I went around to everyone’s room to make sure they had been able to get fires lit in their fireplaces”—he glanced at mine—“I’ll do yours in a second if you’d like me to. Anyway, I got back to my room and started going through the images I took tonight during our walk.”
I was quiet, waiting for him to go on, not really wanting to hear what he was going to say to me.
“Remember when I was shooting some shots of you on the beach, and I thought there was someone standing behind you?” he asked.
I nodded.
He picked up the camera, clicked a button or two, and held it out for me to look at the screen on the back of it. “Take a look at this.”
I sank down to the floor on my knees next to his chair and leaned my head close to the camera, peering at the lighted square that contained the image. All I saw was me, smiling rather shyly but looking happier than I had felt in a long time. I couldn’t help but smile, remembering that moment.
“I usually don’t like photos of me, but this one’s nice,” I said, looking up at him. “But, you didn’t come in here to show me a shot of myself. What else am I supposed to be seeing here?”
“Just wait,” he said and clicked the advance button. Another image popped onto the screen, and when I saw it, I gasped aloud.
It was nearly the same shot, me grinning straight into the camera lens. But behind me, the frame was filled with people. Well, not people exactly, not people with faces, but shapes and forms, as though the shadows of a dozen people were cast on some unseen wall behind me. Within those shadows, one stood out—taller than the rest, ramrod straight posture. I knew exactly who it was. And, at that realization, it felt like ice water shot through my veins.
I stood up and backed away a few steps. “What is that, Richard?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be damned if I know,” he said. “But I know what it isn’t. It’s not a double exposure, and it’s not some fault in the camera. I thought I saw that behind you, just for an instant when I was looking through the lens, when I was taking the shot. But when I lowered the camera to get a better look, it was gone.”
My heart was pounding, and my mind was racing a mile a minute. My flight instinct had kicked into high gear. I had had enough, and this creepy photo seemed like the last straw. All I wanted to do was run from this place. But to where? It was storming outside, there was no electricity anywhere in the county, and town was several miles away. I couldn’t leave the fellows here to fend for themselves, and I couldn’t lead them on a dangerous expedition away from here in the middle of a rainy night. Nobody would go with me, even if I asked. I was sure they were all tucked into their beds at this point.
“You know, earlier, you said you thought I wouldn’t believe something until I saw it?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Well, now I’ve seen it.”
I looked at him, not knowing quite what to say. He was the one who was supposed to offer rational explanations.
I had been shrugging off everything that had happened since I’d arrived at Cliffside: the coughing I heard in empty corners, the laughter, the children’s footsteps, the visions I had seen—or whatever they were. The strange old man at the boathouse. Brynn’s journal getting ripped apart. The disembodied knock at the door. The weird negativity that seemed to hang in the air. The dollhouse. And now this.
“Would you light that fire now?” I asked, finally, my voice wavering. I blinked several times to ward off the tears that were stinging at the back of my eyes.
While he was getting the fire going, I hurried across the room and slipped back into bed, pulling my covers up around me and wrapping my arms around my knees to keep them from knocking. He had to use several matches, but the kindling finally caught fire, and soon the room was filled with a soft glow as the flames danced.
I wished I had never taken this job. I wished I had never laid eyes on Cliffside. And I wished, more than anything, that I was anywhere other than in this house of horrors. What had I gotten myself into? I tried to keep the tears at bay, but they came, and I put my face into my knees, my shoulders shaking.
Richard sat down beside me and put an arm around my back. “Shhh,” he said, his voice soft and
gentle. “It’s okay, Norrie.”
But it wasn’t. I turned to him, and he put both arms around me and let me cry into his chest as he rubbed my back and said soft, soothing words. Finally, I pulled back and grabbed a couple of Kleenex from my nightstand.
“I’m sorry,” I said between gasps, my words as thin as tissue paper. “But I’m just—this is too much.”
“I know,” he said, his voice gentle and low.
“I’m supposed to be in charge and keep all of you safe and happy while you’re here, and after everything that’s happened, I have no idea what I should do now,” I went on. “This is feeling really strange, Richard, and frankly, you and the others getting some time here to focus on your art seems insignificant and unimportant when you weigh it against the risks.”
He shook his head. “What risks are you talking about?”
“What risks?” My voice shot up an octave. “It should be painfully obvious by now to even the most practical and level-headed among us that Cliffside is haunted. And not by Casper the Friendly Ghost.”
He tried to suppress a grin but it escaped, and the edges of his mouth curled up as his eyes danced. “Does that make you Wendy?”
“I’m serious, Richard,” I said. “Everybody thinks I’m making too much of this. I don’t get it, I really don’t.”
But then it dawned on me. Only Diana knew that the messages scrawled on those pages were written in Miss Penny’s hand. The others had no idea, and most suspected Brynn had written that message herself. Well, that would end now. I needed to confide in Richard. I needed him to know it all.
I slipped out of bed and marched into my study. I fumbled in the dark to find the two pieces of paper I had put in my desk drawer, finally found them, and took them back to show Richard.
“You don’t know this,” I said, holding the suicide note out to him. “Nobody but Diana does. The world thinks Penelope Dare died of natural causes. But she didn’t.”
