“I’ll take care of the monkey thing,” Carlton offered.
“No, I’ll return it to the attic. If it’s the boy’s possession, we shouldn’t destroy it.” I spoke too quickly.
Carlton’s look was speculative. “No child should play with something that ghoulish.”
He was probably right, but I reached for the jigger. I wanted the boy to have it. He had so little else. Halfway there, my hand stopped. “Impossible.” The word slipped from me as my fingers reached into the monkey’s toothy mouth to retrieve the piece of fine cotton fabric and a button from a man’s dress shirt. It was the button I’d found on the roof where Robert had fallen.
“What is that?” Carlton asked.
“A clue,” I said, tucking it away in my pocket.
“To what?”
“I don’t know, but I promise you—I intend to find out.” The young boy, Freddie, had indicated Robert was pushed. No matter that Robert was a con man and a liar—he didn’t deserve to die. If someone pushed him, I would get to the bottom of it. There were many secrets at Caoin House, tragedy upon tragedy. Robert was only the latest. I suspected Eva was behind the bloody actions, and she had to be stopped. The ghosts bound to Caoin House and the grounds would never rest in peace until the light of justice was shone upon them, and the tragic circumstances that kept them trapped were revealed.
Reginald loaded the Martins’ bags into their car, and we both stood on the steps and waved them good-bye, smiling and pretending that they were not fleeing a house they now viewed with horror. Mrs. Martin’s pale countenance told me of her distress. She stared straight ahead, unwilling to even look at Caoin House. The flying jigger, coupled with the candles going out, was more than poor Mrs. Martin could sustain. Her husband had yielded to her pleas to leave the property immediately.
After the taillights disappeared down the drive, Uncle Brett gathered everyone in the parlor. Uncle Brett, Carlton, and even Isabelle downed gin and bourbon as if the supply might disappear before they could get their fill. I wanted only to go to bed. Exhaustion tugged at my muscles and bones, but Uncle needed my presence. There were questions to be answered about the ghost boy I’d seen.
First, though, I needed a moment with Reginald to make sure our stories corroborated each other’s. Things had not gone exactly as planned, and while it was clear to all that I’d seen the ghost of the boy, Freddie, I wanted everyone to believe Reginald had seen him, too. Therefore, we needed to share the same imagery.
I pulled my coconspirator aside in the kitchen, and we ducked into the boot room, amid the winter boots and jackets that waited for the change of season. I gave him a brief description of the boy, and Eva’s presence.
“Raissa, the female ghost is dangerous.” He put his hands on my shoulders to force me to settle and pay attention.
I took a deep breath. “I know. She’s so angry.”
“She isn’t gone. You know that.”
I nodded.
“We need to make her leave, before someone else is harmed. It’s going to take a lot to send her away from here.”
“I know, and it scares me. Right now, though, let’s discuss Freddie. He drowned in the swamp.” I confirmed his suspicions. “He said he was pushed, like Robert. He didn’t say Robert’s name, but I’m certain that’s who he meant.”
“How did the cloth and button end up in the monkey’s mouth?”
“I don’t know.” I’d tucked the bit of evidence into the corner of my dresser drawer for safekeeping. I had no way of knowing how to use it to find answers, but now I was positive it was a significant clue.
“We have a lot of work to do.” Reginald sounded determined, and that made me feel better. He wasn’t going to jump ship and leave me.
“Raissa?” My uncle’s voice came through the solid door of the boot room. He was calling from the dining room.
“Here, Uncle Brett.” I slipped out the door before he could find me huddled with Reginald. “I’m in the kitchen.”
“Come to the parlor. Our guests have questions. And where is Reginald?”
“I thought he went upstairs,” I lied. “I’m sure he’ll be right down. The evening has taken a toll on him.”
“It was quite a success!” Uncle Brett’s spirits were hardly dampened by the macabre turn of events. I took his arm, and we left the kitchen. Reginald would be right behind me.
I entered the parlor, where the guests looked a bit more relaxed. Only Carlton was absent, and I knew instantly he was in the ballroom, possibly the attic, looking for the tricks of the trade he believed Reginald had used. He wouldn’t be far off, but he was sadly mistaken if he thought we’d made up everything. Carlton was smart, though, and I wasn’t certain Reginald and I had cleared away the evidence of our chicanery.
“Let me retrieve Carlton,” I said. Before Uncle could protest, I slipped from the library. Reluctant though I was to return to the ballroom, I hurried there. As I suspected, Carlton was under the table, looking for trickery. Thank goodness I’d put the knee knocker in my dresser drawer, along with the button.
“Find anything interesting?” I asked.
Carlton rose from the floor. “Where did this come from?” He held the wedding portrait of Elise.
“I don’t know. Where did you find it?”
“In my chair. Did Reginald put it there?”
I could answer that honestly. “No. I had the picture in my room. Reginald had no way to acquire it.”
“Then you put it here.”
His tone angered me. “I did not. But what if I had? What is this portrait to you?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you might be trying to scare me. To play with my emotions.” He handed the picture to me. “I had no cause to sound so accusatory.”
“It’s okay.” My relief was great. “I do love it that my stories give you a chill, but I wouldn’t manipulate you in such a way.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m concerned for you and your uncle. I don’t think we should dabble in these dark realms anymore.”
I thought of my uncle’s refusal to marry Isabelle—because he was afraid for her here. Reginald, too, understood that we had to banish the spirits at Caoin House for true happiness to prevail. “I wish we could close this door and never open it. There is something here at Caoin House.” I held his gaze. “There are secrets. Strange things happening that can’t be accounted for.”
“And all harmless until tonight,” Carlton pointed out. “I feared Mrs. Martin would suffer a heart episode. She was terrified.” A rueful grin crossed his face. “This will be all over Mobile by eight in the morning.”
Mrs. Martin was probably on the phone now. I matched his sheepish grin. “Caoin House will be painted a den of satanic spirits. Uncle will adore it.”
“Brett is happy as a pig in mud.” He offered his arm. “Let’s rejoin the others. Your uncle will think we’re up to mischief.”
As we descended the stairs, I took the opportunity to ask questions I didn’t want my uncle to hear. “Why isn’t Elise Whitehead buried in the family cemetery?”
“She isn’t?” Carlton was as surprised as I had been by the news.
“We could find no evidence of her grave. If she’s there, her burial plot was left unmarked.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Carlton rubbed his chin, and I was struck again by the dimple, which only added to his handsome visage. “Elise was Eli’s beloved daughter. After Eva’s death, father and daughter were inseparable. Some people think she jumped to her death. That would have prevented her from being buried in hallowed ground, but not a family cemetery.”
“Unless Eli was so angry at her that he cast her out.”
“I hadn’t considered that aspect,” Carlton said. “There’s something very strange here, and it goes all the way back to the Whiteheads.” He escorted me down the stairs.
I was sorely tempted to tell him about the pornographic picture of the pirate. Somehow everything was linked together. It
was a matter of unraveling the ball of string. If I told him, he might be able to shed light on the situation, but Carlton’s blood ran bluer and truer than anyone else’s in the region. His ties to blood and land were strong. The McKays, the Browns, and a few other families were the foundation of Mobile society. Revealing the pirate daguerreotype might upset Carlton unnecessarily. To him and Mobile society, Eva was a victim of deserters or vagabonds. She was a fallen flower of the South. The truth would upset that image and much of the fantasy of the lonely and long-suffering Southern woman. I didn’t want to visit trouble on Carlton until I had proof.
Carlton opened the library door, and we rejoined my uncle, Isabelle, Pretta and Hubert Paul, and Reginald.
My uncle clapped his hands to get our attention. “Thank you all for coming. Tonight has been . . . unsettling, I know. Rest assured that the spirit high jinks are complete for the evening. I’ve spoken with Reginald, and he’s assured me the spirits are gone.”
“Yes, Freddie and his lovely companion have been banished,” Reginald said. “The house is free of all paranormal entities.” He came to stand beside me. “Raissa and I will make a final sweep of the third floor to be sure all is tucked away.”
“I’ll accompany them,” Carlton offered.
“If you don’t come back, we aren’t coming to save you,” Uncle Brett teased. “Now, we’ll finish our libations and then be off to bed. Remember, we’re leaving Caoin House at five in the morning. I want to be in the delta when the sun comes up.”
“And with that, I propose we check the house tomorrow after we return from our adventure on the water. When it’s daylight.” I didn’t relish a final sweep of the ballroom—and I certainly wasn’t going into the attic. Like everyone else in the house, my nerves were on edge. I would welcome the sun.
“I concede to the wishes of the lady.” Reginald gave a low bow. “I’m going to bed then. I want to be fresh to wrestle with the giant alligators that I’ve heard inhabit the swamps of the delta. Tomorrow we’ll face real danger. Tonight was just a bit of spirit drama. Those alligators have teeth and jaws with the power to snap steel.”
Uncle Brett slapped his thigh. “Don’t give away all my surprises, Reginald.” He was delighted with Reginald’s teasing. He’d completely recovered from the evening scare, and it was as if it never happened. Uncle was the sun. An occasional cloud might drift across him, but it never lingered.
“Off to bed, my fellow scamps,” Uncle Brett said. “Winona will be here at five in the morning to prepare breakfast. Be dressed and at the table. We leave at five thirty.”
A groan came from Isabelle and Pretta before they filed out of the library and to their respective rooms. Hubert gave the gentlemen a nod and cast a smile at me before he departed with his wife.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I’d fallen into a light and restless sleep when I became aware of a chill wind blowing through the open French doors from the balcony. A storm must have blown up, because the breeze was at least twenty degrees cooler than when I’d gone to bed. I considered getting up and closing the doors, but instead I snuggled beneath the sheet and cotton spread, pulling the pillows into a hug for warmth. Such a cool evening was a gift in summer.
“Raissa.”
Someone called my name, dragging me from sleep to wakefulness.
“Raissa, come to me.”
The developments in the attic made me wary of heeding his call. This ability to connect with me was unsettling, especially in light of the drama with Eva and the child who haunted the attic. I’d never considered ghosts physically dangerous before.
I threw back the covers and rose from the bed. The cold wind had disappeared, and the night was warm and rich, spiced with the scent of gardenias. When I stepped out on the balcony, I realized the doors to the unoccupied bedroom that adjoined mine were also open.
“Raissa, come down.”
The soldier stepped out of the shadows of a tree trunk. He stood proud, his uniform perfectly cut, the silver handle of the sword quick in the moonlight. He removed his hat, and the wind ruffled his dark hair. He was so handsome. Wide shoulders, tapered waist, strong legs encased in boots that came to his knees.
“Eli.” I whispered his name. What had possessed Eva to betray the man she’d married and who’d built a mansion for her? He’d gone to war and left her alone, but most of the women of the South had endured similar separations. I wondered how many others had fallen victim to carnal needs. I understood loneliness, but I didn’t comprehend breaking a vow.
And Eli was so handsome. He had a dark charm all his own.
He held a hand out to me—an invitation, but to what?
I wondered again that he didn’t come inside. He was, after all, the master of Caoin House. Instead of lurking about the premises, he should be inside, in the library or the parlor, seeking my presence there.
“No,” I replied. I had to be up at five, and my watch showed it was 3:00 a.m. I would be a walking corpse if I didn’t get back to sleep.
“Raissa.” His tone carried more command. “Come down. Secrets. There are secrets. Danger.”
After the encounter with Eva in the attic, I was wary. But if Eli wanted a confrontation and had secrets to share, I would meet him halfway.
“Hurry!” He faded slightly, the moonlight penetrating him.
Afraid that he would leave without sharing his confidences, I ran barefoot in my nightgown, the flimsy material floating behind me as I descended the stairs. It was possible Eli had the answers I sought, if he would only share.
A moment later I’d unlocked the front door and stepped into the embrace of the night. The cry of a hoot owl told me the night predators were out. The smaller songbirds fell silent, aware that a hunter was among them. Leaving the safety of the house, I stepped onto the dew-soaked grass that was like a soft carpet and went to the oak grove, the trees now blackened silhouettes in the moonlight.
The lawn was empty, and I stumbled to a stop, uncertain where to go. Then I saw him. He was only twenty-five feet away. My imagination hadn’t magnified his good looks. He was a handsome man in the prime of his years. His dark hair, straight and black, fell over one golden-brown eye. His smooth olive complexion was marred by a scar on one cheek in the shape of a scythe. Instead of detracting, it added to his good looks.
The strangely cool breeze fluttered the fabric of my gown. I crossed the front lawn and moved deep into the oak grove. Grass blades and twigs clung to my bare feet. Eli remained slightly ahead of me. He moved without effort, as if nothing held him truly connected to the ground. No gravity or law of physics could contain him.
Moonlight paled his gray uniform to silver, and his dark hair caught and reflected Luna’s light. He turned back to see that I followed and moved more swiftly.
“Eli!” I was out of the house in my nightgown. I’d meant to go only to the steps, but I was halfway through the oak grove. “Eli, stop!”
He turned back to face me and looked toward the house. “Hurry! Now.”
I looked toward Caoin House. The doors to both rooms that shared my balcony were open. Something moved in the room beside mine, as if someone, or something, stepped back into the shadows to avoid detection.
Fear shot through me. Ghost or human, the intruder had no business in those rooms. “Eli, wait! What is it? What’s in that room?”
But he didn’t wait. He steadily drew away.
I chased after him, determined to uncover the promised secrets, to find the source of the danger that stalked Caoin House.
We left the more manicured lawn near the house. Sharp sticks and roots in the path stung my feet, yet I couldn’t stop. He was fifty yards ahead, but when he looked at me, I heard his voice like a whisper in my ear.
“Hurry, Raissa. You are in danger.”
He took the path to the cemetery. When we came to the lych-gate covered in blooming Confederate jasmine, the sweet scent cloying around me, at last I balked. My body came to a standstill as I fought the unexpected desire
to follow him into the land of the dead.
“Stop!” I cried. “Stop! I won’t go farther.” He knew things, and I wanted to make him tell me, but I wouldn’t go into the cemetery with him. Eva had turned on me, and I had no reason to believe Eli was any different. Perhaps the betrayal of his wife, her death, his daughter’s peculiar fall had driven him insane. He could be as wickedly deceitful as Eva had been.
“The grave.” He drew closer. “I am tiring. Come now. Danger.”
“No. Tell me here.”
“Beware of those who lie.” He left, disappearing into the night.
“Raissa!” Another voice called my name. Running down the path toward me, flashlight in hand, was Carlton. “Who were you with?” he asked. “I heard you talking to someone.”
Carlton and I were alone at the edge of the cemetery. My body shivered, not from cold but from shock. “I’m alone.”
“Who was out here?” Carlton asked again.
How to explain that I’d followed a ghost across the lawn and almost into the cemetery? “It was a dream,” I whispered.
“And who was in your dream?” Carlton put his arm around me and pulled me close against him, offered his strength as support as he began to walk me back to the house.
“Eli.”
“Eli Whitehead?” He was surprised.
“He had something to tell me.”
Carlton faced me, brushing the tangled curls from my face. “I worry for you, Raissa. I worry that your big imagination will put you in danger.”
Still struggling to free myself of the night’s strange events, I didn’t want to argue with Carlton. “It upsets me, too.”
He tilted my chin up with his finger so that I gazed into his eyes. “I’m falling in love with you, Raissa. The idea that someone, or something, might mean harm to you is more than I can endure. I want to take care of you, to be sure you’re safe.”
His words were seductive, because I now felt the need for a protector, but I couldn’t lead Carlton on. “I don’t know what I feel,” I said. “You’re a generous, kind man. I—”
The Book of Beloved (Pluto's Snitch 1) Page 20
