Happily Never After

by Missy Fleming

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  He smiled, “I’m here to escort a Quinn Roberts to the Savannah Heritage Ball.”

  My jaw dropped as Marietta stormed up and pushed me out of the way. Jason. He must have done this. It was a nice gesture but he should have known better.

  “What did you say?” Her anger simmered below the surface and I braced myself as the shadow loomed behind her.

  His smile fell into a look of confusion. “I was told to pick up Quinn Roberts from this address and drive her to the resort. Do I have the wrong house?”

  “Who ordered that?” Suzie roared.

  “I don’t have that information, miss.”

  Marietta glared at me. “You have the right location but Miss Roberts will not be attending the ball tonight. I’m afraid it will just be my daughters and I. You can take them out to the car and I’ll be right along.”

  The man opened his mouth to argue with her but she shot him a look that made him take a couple steps back. “Of course, ma’am, I’ll be waiting outside.”

  In spite of the twins’ questions, Marietta shoved them out the door without a word. They had a hard time fitting through the doorway with those huge hoop skirts. It would have been funny if I wasn’t nervous about Marietta. She slammed the door and turned to me.

  Prepared to have her unleash her wrath one me, I was surprised when she smiled sweetly. “I suppose you’re not going to explain?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have any idea, Marietta. I swear. I haven’t made any plans to go tonight. I know my place.”

  Of course she didn’t believe me. She grabbed me by my hair and dragged me up the stairs. It brought tears to my eyes and I fought not to cry out. “I don’t know what you’re up to but I don’t like it. Whatever you planned for tonight isn’t going to happen. It’s my night! I haven’t been to a ball in so long, since before the War. Tonight, I’ll be the one they look at, the way it used to be.”

  We reached the door to the attic and Marietta threw me forward. I caught myself on the steps and whirled to face her. She looked like Marietta, but the shadow throbbed around her.

  “Catherine?” I whispered.

  She laughed and slammed the door in my face. I heard the lock click and the beat of her heels as she walked away. I turned to walk up the stairs and stopped at the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor towards the door, which shook as it was pushed up against it. I guessed she moved a heavy piece of furniture to block the door, in case I figured out how to unlock it.

  I knew she was gone because the house grew still and quiet in a way it hadn’t been the last few days. Outside, the twilight darkened, matching my mood perfectly. I tried to reflect on what happened but all I felt was shock.

  In the far corner of the attic, a faint light blinked and grew bigger and brighter. I felt the air change and instantly I knew this presence was the strange force that protected me. Sitting up on the bed, I watched the light pulse and move closer. I wasn’t nervous. Something told me no harm would come from this energy.

  Then, it changed and the light formed into the shape of a person. After a quick flash it dimmed, leaving behind a surprisingly solid woman.

  I stared at her in shock. I was able to look at her straight on. Her image did not waver or flicker. Her clothing appeared to have come from the War era. The cut of her rose colored dress and the hang of her skirt resembled the antebellum costumes seen all over the city. It was what the twins’ dresses should have looked like.

  “Hello, Quinn.” She spoke in a soft, breathy voice.

  Apparently, I’d finally lost my mind.

  The woman smiled. “Don’t be afraid, dear. You’ve felt me before and I’ve been waiting until you needed me most.”

  “You’re the one who scared off whatever almost killed me? And all those other times too?” I finally found my voice. Over the years, I had experienced many crazy things but this really topped it all. “Who are you?”

  “I’m your great-great-great-grandmother, Margaret Roberts.”

  I gasped. “I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

  Margaret walked over and sat next to me on the bed. A thousand chills ran through me when I actually felt the bed shift under her, as if someone with actual weight and substance sat down instead.

  “I have a story to tell you, Quinn and then I’m going to help you go to your young man. You’ve had too much tragedy in your life. It’s about time we changed that.”

  I laughed at her. “You’re going to help me see Jason tonight? What, you’re my Fairy Godmother?” Her face remained blank as if she had no clue what I was talking about. “Fairy Godmother, from Cinderella? It’s a story about a girl who – she’s locked up and – oh, never mind.” I ran my hands over my face. Maybe I was the only one who saw the similarities.

  “You’re an odd girl.” She studied me closely. “I know you’ve been investigating the events surrounding my daughter’s death and that of her husband. Would you like to hear what really happened?”

  “Of course, I’d love to find out what it has to do with this house and if I really am in danger like she says.”

  Margaret nodded and took a deep breath preparing for the story she was going to tell. I settled in to listen to her voice, as slow and richly southern as Sorghum molasses.

  Chapter Twenty

  “After the War, most of the Roberts family businesses were broke. We poured everything we had into a losing cause. Our family watched and waited with all of Savannah’s great families for their loved ones to return. And when Sherman marched into the city, he spared it. Everything changed after that. Our slaves went free and Yankees poured into Savannah looking to capitalize on our misfortune. Even in a city ravaged by war and newfound poverty, this house stood as one of the finest.

  “Our family had dealings with a man named William Jennings. He was a Yankee. We borrowed money from him to keep our remaining businesses open and the opportunity to rebuild our cotton empire. You may have already gathered that William was not a good man. After about a year, he told my husband and me that he would be willing to forgive our debt in exchange for the house.

  “Instead of our beloved family home, James, my husband, offered him something much more valuable to a Yankee; our daughter’s hand in marriage. To a man like William, the opportunity to marry into one of the oldest families in Georgia was too much to turn down. We could have avoided all of this if it had not been for James’ pride.

  “You have to understand it was a tragic time. All our friends and neighbors were falling from their lofty heights, losing everything. The only reason we were still in business was because of Mr. Jennings. I understand the reason, but I’ll never forgive myself for standing by and allowing it to happen.”

  Margaret smiled sadly. “Catherine was a headstrong girl and desperately loved her place in the social tiers of Savannah. She was so beautiful and vibrant. Many eligible bachelors chased after her and fought for her hand, but she only had eyes for one, Jackson Merriwether. The Merriwethers were one of the richest families in Georgia, probably in the entire South. Jackson was their oldest and a dashing young man. He came and called on Catherine many times and there was much speculation that they would wed.

  “Then, the war happened. Jackson enlisted and vowed to return in a few months as a war hero. All those boys who enlisted thought they were going to be back soon. The pride of the South.” She shook her head. “For years, he only managed to get a few letters through and she saw him once for about an hour near the holidays. Their love never diminished. Even after Gettysburg when he was listed as missing or dead, she clung to the hope that he would still come home.

  “The day we told her she was to be married to a stranger I saw hate in her heart. She fought against it, but those were different times. She had to do what her father wished and she never forgave us. A couple days before the wedding she even tried running away but James brought her back kicking and screaming. They were married in a quiet ceremony and for
the entire ten months they were married, I only saw her once. We corresponded but I always got the sense from her letters that she was being guarded.

  “Back then Savannah was still a small city so it was odd to not have seen her at social events. From what I could tell, William was a controlling man with a vicious temper. I heard rumors and gossip about him beating her and other unspeakable acts. Each time I tried to call on her William told me she was ill. I should have done more.

  “Around the time she died, Jackson came home. It was a miracle and my heart broke for them because by then it was too late. If only he had made it home a few months earlier, things would have been so much different for all of us. He went to see her but I don’t know what happened because two days later she died. It destroyed Jackson. He left for the West and never came back.

  “No matter how bad things were for her, they must have taken a nasty turn after the visit from Jackson. Maybe William caught her trying to leave. I’ll never fully understand what happened to my daughter and maybe that’s why I’m stuck here, to search for Catherine and beg for her forgiveness. We gave her to that horrible man. We sent her to a life of hell. We killed her.”

  She was quiet for awhile and I was at a loss for words. I knew how it hurt to lose someone you loved, but I doubted our pain was similar. I had a million questions running through my head but before I could ask any, Margaret continued.

  “After Catherine’s death, William became even more persistent. He’d wanted the house before but found satisfaction by marrying Catherine instead. I figured he was a man accustomed to having the best and not being denied. Once Catherine was buried, he took up campaigning for the house again. His offers and interest in the house became more and more outrageous. He was not a sane man. The amount of money he offered would have been indecent, even in your time. My husband didn’t take his increasing threats seriously. I think he was too numb from Catherine’s death.

  “One day William came to the house. He was belligerent and demanded that we give him what was rightfully his. He felt that as the widower of a Roberts daughter, he should get the house. He was convinced we burned him on the deal because his wife died so soon. Clearly, he was mad.

  “I don’t need to mention all that was said but William and my husband began fighting and struggling. William had his hands locked around James' throat and said he’d beat the life out of him just as he had Catherine before he dumped her in the river. I don’t remember much of what happened next. We were in the front parlor and I was standing next to the fireplace. I picked up the fire poker and struck him in the head. Even after he had fallen, I kept hitting him until I couldn’t lift my arms again.

  “My husband buried William out in the garden and I don’t remember anything after that day. I died in a sanatorium, surrounded by darkness and nightmares, haunted by the memory of my daughter and what I did to her and Jennings. Catherine is the spirit haunting this house. She wants revenge against her family and you’re the last one. I’m afraid she wants to hurt you to ensure our family name dies with you. All because of me.”

  It took a few minutes for everything she said to sink in. I felt scandalized by the fact she, of all people, had murdered William in this house but it wasn’t as shocking as why Catherine wanted to end my life. Somehow, realizing that didn’t scare me as I thought it would. It was a relief to finally know what and who, I was dealing with and why.

  “I guessed most of that or at least sensed it. The obvious question in all this is how do I stop it? Can she be stopped?”

  Margaret shook her head sadly. “I’m at a loss as much as you. Right now, she has a willing host who she is able to use freely. If she were simply a spirit as I am, she would not have been able to assault you but having a human host gives her power. She wants the life she was denied. Even more, she wants any Roberts to suffer as much as she did.”

  No matter what, I still wanted no harm to come to Marietta but separating Catherine from Marietta’s body was going to be impossible.

  The silence dragged on. I really didn’t have any clue what to say to Margaret. Under normal circumstances, I would have had a million questions for her but right now, my predicament felt overwhelming. It had been a long, weird day.

  One question popped into my head and I asked, “Is Jackson here, in this house? Is he the soldier I sense?”

  She nodded. “He was destroyed after Catherine died and I think those strong emotional ties to her and our family are why he is here. He doesn’t talk much.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He’s one of the more mysterious spirits.”

  “He is different than the young man I remember.” Margaret stood and turned towards me. “However, I think right now, we should concentrate on getting you to the dance. The rest can be put on hold for one night.”

  “How are we going to do that? I’m locked in this room. Unless you have a pumpkin that will turn into a carriage, I have no way of getting there.”

  Confusion crossed her face and I almost laughed.

  “Pumpkins that turn into carriages? I have no clue what you’re going on about but the door isn’t locked anymore.”

  I didn’t believe her so I jumped up and ran down to the door. Sure enough, it door opened and nothing blocked its way. I slowly walked back up to her.

  “How did you do that?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Now, from what I recall we must find you an appropriate dress. I think I have just the thing.”

  She walked over to an armoire in the messy part of the attic and opened it. I expected to see old, moth eaten clothes but instead there were five gorgeous dresses hanging with an assortment of undergarments.

  I walked up behind her, immediately drawn to a deep purple gown, trimmed in lace and pearls.

  “I think this one is perfect,” Margaret said, reaching in and pulling it out, along with a corset and a hoop skirt. “We need all this if you’re going to have the right effect.”

  “How can you touch things?” I’d learned a lot about spirits in the last couple of years and I knew it took a tremendous amount of energy for her to do what she was doing.

  “How can you believe in ghosts and not in magic? It’s sad, sweetie. All girls and young women should believe in the promise of magic.” Unsure how to respond, I turned my attention back to the dress. “Maybe after tonight you will.”

  Margaret handed me the clothes. Luckily, like any good Southern girl, I knew how to put on the corset and hoop skirt. She came up behind me and tightened the corset to an almost uncomfortable state.

  Before I pulled the dress on, Margaret studied me closely. “We really should get rid of those awful purple stripes in your hair.”

  I flashed an embarrassed smile. “They are extensions, I can take them out.”

  She looked relieved. “Good and make sure you curl your hair. I can pin it up when you’re done.”

  Almost an hour later I was dressed and ready to go. Most of my hair was piled on top of my head and I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.

  I didn’t even resemble the poor girl who lived in the attic. In this moment I was the lady of the house, one who had opportunities and a full social calendar. The dark purple satin of the dress accented my dark hair and with the makeup, my face glowed. Thanks to the corset, my already small waist was tiny, standing out in stark contrast to the wide hoop skirt. The corset also did wonders for my chest, pushing up my cleavage high enough to entice any man with a pulse. It made me blush which only made it worse.

  I couldn’t deny I looked like a Roberts, though.

  Margaret walked over and studied my reflection.

  “Beautiful. I have one more surprise for you.” She held up a dainty gold necklace. The pendant was in the shape of a teardrop. A dark purple stone surrounded by fancy gold filigree detailing took up the center of the drop. “This was given to me, when I was a young girl, on the eve of my wedding. I gave it to Catherine on the eve of her wedding, hoping it would somehow bring happiness to such a solemn day. William had it in hi
s pocket the day I killed him. It was meant to be an heirloom. Maybe now it can be.”

  She placed the exquisite piece around my neck and fastened it. I don’t know how else to explain it - it belonged there.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I turned to Margaret. “I can ever begin to thank you for this.”

  She put an icy cold hand on my cheek. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re family, darlin’. This is what we do for each other. I wanted you to have a night to remember before you faced whatever is coming with Catherine.”

  I sniffed and nodded. “Have you dreamed up any transportation for me?”

  “Of course, it’s waiting outside.”

  She walked me to the door and my breath caught in my throat.

  A horse drawn carriage sat out in the street waiting for me.

  “It’s perfect.” I kissed her cheek, vaguely wondering in the back of my mind what the driver saw as I did this.

  Carefully, I walked down to the waiting carriage, hoop skirt swaying side to side like a cloth church bell.

  “Good evening miss.” The burly driver took my hand and helped me in.

  “Thank you. Do you mind my asking how you knew to be here?”

  He gave me a strange look then pulled out a cell phone. “This thing rang and I picked it up, followed the directions.”

  I nodded with a wry smirk. The spirit world was full of surprises.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The carriage pulled up in front of Savannah Shores Resort and Golf Course and I officially started to get nervous. The Mardi-gras type mask Margaret gave me felt heavy on my face but I loved the idea of no one knowing who I was. It felt safer.

  After the driver helped me out, I walked to the entrance trying to appear much more confident than I really was. I handed my invitation to the lady at the door, another one of Margaret’s mysteries, and followed the crowd of people inside.