The Curse Of Ivy

by Josephine Aubrey

  Later, while searching the office, he discovered a small key under some innocent looking note pads in the center desk drawer. He could not believe his good fortune. Over the last several years of going through his uncle’s papers, he had overlooked this small key. As it turned out, the key fit the small safe sitting right out there in the open on a side table. There was little in the safe, but what was in there is what excited Justin. There in his hand was the revised will of Flannel Grayson leaving all of his worldly goods to Patricia Grayson.

  Up until the moment he had found his uncle’s revised will, Justin had every reason to believe that he and his sister Elizabeth would inherit the Grayson fortune. Now, he learns that his uncle has left everything to his cousin, Patricia Grayson, his Uncle David Grayson’s daughter. As long as Patricia and his Uncle Flannel were alive the Grayson money was lost to him. With them both out of the way, the money would fall to Elizabeth and Justin. Shocked into action by the revised will, Justin began to make plans. Not only would he remove the benefactor, but also the one who would benefit, Patricia Grayson.

  Justin had never been one to leave winning to chance. Justin tended to make his own good fortune. Today he had acted on his plans. There was that clever surprise he had left for Patricia when he broke into her house in Greenfield, and he wasn’t working alone either. There was his girl Clare, who helped him implement his plans at Grayson Manor. With her help, old uncle was currently on his deathbed. Now who’s the winner? It would be Justin of course.

  He had always believed that he had not gotten his fair share of his late father’s estate. When he and his sister Elizabeth had reached their twenty first birthdays, they each inherited a trust fund left to them by their father, which was a large amount by anyone’s standard, but it wasn’t enough for Justin.

  Not happy with his inheritance from his father, Justin was constantly scheming on how to wrench Flannel Grayson’s money from him, and Justin felt no remorse. He was a Grayson. He would and should inherit more money than he could spend in his lifetime. With his uncle and his cousin gone, he would be incredibly rich.

  Justin was needy. He had never felt especially loved or cherished as a child. Elizabeth, his sister, when she was born, became his mother’s obvious favorite. As he grew older, he noticed that there was little about them that looked alike. Actually, when he would compare family photos, he thought he looked like a stranger. He had dark hair and olive skin, while they were all blonde haired and blue-eyed. The difference was stark, and this created an uneasiness in him that was only peripheral, but ate at him.

  His sister Elizabeth was just as devastated as he was when they lost their father early in their childhood, but Phoebe, their mother, was there to console them and see them through the dark days of adjusting to the new way of living without their father. Uncle Flannel had interceded in their young lives as well, and had always been there for them when they needed him. He was a good guy. The void left by the loss of a parent, however, is inconsolable. Only time passing lessens the pain.

  At the present time, Justin’s mother, Phoebe Grayson, was in France. With Elizabeth in school that just left Justin, Flannel and his Aunt Hannah at Grayson Manor. Justin was glad his sister was out of the way. Even though he had felt a loss by the attention his mother lavished on Elizabeth, he loved his little sister dearly.

  Chapter Four

  After the home invasion, Patricia lived her life on tiptoes. The next day when she returned home, she sneaked quietly into her own house as if expecting to find a stranger at her front door looking askance at her as if she were an intruder. After she had assured herself that no one was there, and that all of the doors and windows were double-checked to make sure they were locked, she went upstairs to her room to shower. She was tired and looking forward to sleeping in her own bed. A shower would be refreshing. Later she would order in dinner.

  The hot water was relaxing and, by the time she was finished, she thought she might be up for an evening out with her old friend, Karen, from high school. She hadn’t seen her friend all week, and she was ready for some fun

  As Patricia reached for a towel on the rack at the end of the bathtub, she felt a solid object that should not be there. She pushed against the towel to keep the object from falling into the water. Pulling the towel back, she looked to see what she had. She broke into a cold sweat and the hair stood up on the back of her neck when she saw that it was her hairdryer still plugged into the wall. Shower or bath, this thing would have electrocuted her if it had fallen into the water.

  Wrapped in a towel, she sat on the side of her bed shaking. Why would anyone do such a thing? Did someone hate her enough to kill her? She was floundering, confused, frightened, and worse, her sense of safety, that she had enjoyed all of her life, was completely gone. She shivered.

  After reporting the hair dryer incident to the authorities, Patricia got dressed and waited for them to arrive. They took the hair dryer for fingerprints, and questioned Patricia about what had happened. After she had given the details, the officers, the same ones who had been there the day before, suggested to Patricia that the two incidents were probably linked. Their suggestion was that maybe she should not be alone. This was probably not just a random break in by some thug looking for something to steal. This attack appeared to be personal. After the officers left, reassuring her that they would continue to keep an eye on her house, she decided that she would stay. She would not let this man run her out of her own house. She endured a restless, sleepless night.

  Saturday evening, a very shaky Patricia invited a group of her friends over for a cookout. There was safety in numbers, and she welcomed the comfort of having old friends around at a time when she felt so vulnerable. She chose not to tell Karen, or Steve, or her other friends about the break-in, and the incident with the hair dryer, however, because she wanted to just enjoy herself without all of the interest and questions from her friends coloring the evening. Things had changed drastically for her. Strangely enough, there were trust issues that affected her attitude towards he friends. Because she had no clue who had done this, she covertly observed her friends behavior for any hint of animosity. If she had told them about the break-in, and the incident with the hair dryer, it would just have put them on guard. She was no longer the naïve small town girl who believed that the evil in the world could not touch her. It could, and it had.

  Having her friends there for the evening helped to dispel the sense of foreboding that hung over the house where Patricia was born. With no enemies, she had nowhere to turn to resolve this problem. It occurred to her that someone might be just playing a cruel game with her. There were people out there who would hurt you for no good reason. It was not unusual to hear on the news how this sort of thing happened in other towns to other people, but nothing like this had ever happened in Greenfield.

  Because the intruder had not taken anything from the house, it was clear that the intent was to harm her. She resolved never to let her guard down. She would have to keep her head up and always be aware of what was going on around her.

  Chapter Five

  Patricia sat moving the porch swing with one foot as she watched while Snuffles, her dachshund, played in the yard. Today was Saturday, and Patricia had just mowed the lawn, and the fragrance from the fresh cut grass reminded her of the times she had played there with her father. The old lawn mower would drone on and on, and finally, when the work was done, he would take time to play with her. They would horse around, chasing each other, mostly. It didn’t matter what the game was, it was the attention from her father that she remembered. To her he was her hero, and she had loved him dearly.

  Remembering how much she loved both of her parents, and how much fun they were, Patricia felt cheated that she had lost both of them so early in her life. She and her mother had been devastated when her father had been killed in an automobile accident several years ago. Then, only one year ago, she lost her mother. Patricia had not even been aware that she was ill. Her mother had a heart condi
tion, but had not shared this information with her daughter.

  After the funeral, Patricia tried to remember a time when her mother was sick, but after examining the last few years of her mother’s life, there had been no evidence that her mother was ill. There had been no warning signs, no inkling of her mother’s condition. Right up to the afternoon she had received the call from the hospital that her mother was there, and that she had just had a fatal heart attack, her mother had seemed healthy. Carol, her mother, had died on the way to the hospital, so Patricia had not been there to see her that one last time.

  It was the end of her world, as she knew it. Except for her friends from school, and college, and a few old family friends from over the years, Patricia was alone. She and her parents had lived in the little town of Greenfield ever since she could remember. The house, in which she lived, was where she grew up. She recalled summers, long ago, when most of the kids on her block would end up playing at her house. Her parents were both warm and loving and always looked for a chance to be involved and to make life fun for her.

  Living alone in this house where there had been so much love was sometimes difficult. There were times when the emptiness of her life echoed in the sound of her own footsteps, and when memories of family and home became a comfort and a curse at the same time. It was in those moments that she felt really alone, because they were all crushing reminders of what she had lost.

  Snuffles, her dachshund, tail wagging, dropped a ball at Patricia’s feet, so she picked it up and threw it out across the lawn. That would keep him busy while she went out to the mailbox to get the mail. Sorting through the junk mail and bills, Patricia came across a letter addressed to her from the office of Cameron And Cameron in Louisville, Kentucky, a city south of Greenfield, Indiana where she lived. Sitting with one leg folded under her and using her other foot to push the swing, Patricia read the letter. It was formally addresses to Ms. Patricia Grayson.

  I have been asked to contact you by my client Flannel Grayson, your late father David Grayson’s brother. Your Uncle Flannel Grayson is inviting you to Grayson Manor. As you are his only heir, your uncle would like for you to give some serious thought to eventually making Grayson Manor your home. Mr. Grayson Emphasized that he would be very pleased if you would come as soon as possible. He wholeheartedly apologizes for not contacting you sooner.

  The letter was signed by a Mr. Grant Cameron and included directions on how to get to Grayson Manor. The telephone number for the office of Cameron and Cameron, and a telephone number for Flannel Grayson were also included at the bottom of the page in case she had any questions.

  It had only been a couple of days since the incident with the hair dryer, so this was a pleasant surprise for Patricia. She welcomed the distraction. She felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of having a relative nearby. It was only a few hours drive to Louisville. She and her parents had gone there many times. It was the cultural hub of southern Indiana and Kentucky. As a family they had toured the Speed Art Museum, and she and her mother had seen several Broadway plays. And then there was the Kentucky Derby where her parent’s went to bet on the horses when she was a child.

  Patricia had always known there was an aunt and cousins on her mother’s side of the family, but she had been led to believe, by omission, that there were no relatives on her father’s side. So, the possibility that she did have family was exciting. The plot thickened as she wondered why two brothers, who had lived a relatively short distance from each other for all of these years, had never contacted each other.

  Sitting on the front porch of the beautiful old home she had shared with her parents thinking about family and reflecting on how close she and her mother had been caused a jumble of emotions. Fighting back tears, she wondered again what had caused her father and his brother to become estranged when, for her, family was so important. Especially brothers! She would have given anything for a sister all of these years to share things and as someone to confide in. It was just sad. On the brighter side, maybe she had cousins and other relatives that she had yet to meet. Then her mind took another direction. She might even be an heiress! She laughed at the thought not willing to take such a strange turn of events too seriously. As Snuffles dropped to the floor at her feet and yawned, she wondered if Flannel Grayson liked dogs

  Chapter Six

  Because she had inherited her mother’s accounting agency, the girl had only her work to consider when she decided to accept her uncle’s invitation. Abby, her assistant, would manage the agency while she was away. So, after a few days of getting her business in order, she made plans to visit Flannel Grayson. She called the telephone number Mr. Cameron had provided, but was told that Mr. Grayson was not accepting any telephone calls. This coupled with the tone of the letter, made Patricia even more curious. Plus, after the break-in last week, she welcomed the possibility of change in her life eagerly hoping for something exciting and better.

  It occurred to the girl, that because Grayson Manor was titled, the house might be old. With this in mind, Patricia went online and typed in “Grayson Manor” and found that there was actually a web site with pictures of the house. The style was antebellum constructed of red brick with white trim and second and third story verandas that spanned the entire front of the manor. There were beautiful lawns bordered at the foot by the banks of the Ohio River. A short article on the history of the manor amounted to the Grayson family history. John Lafayette Grayson had built the house in 1848, which would mean that was at least three, maybe four generations ago. Grayson Manor had survived the Civil War and the Great Depression, a major feat considering that the Grayson’s were in banking.

  Eager for an adventure, Patricia left at the end of the week. Following the directions provided, she found her uncle’s estate on Fountain Hill Road standing high on a knoll above the banks of the Ohio River just as pictured on the web site. She found the address engraved on a plaque embedded in the pillar made of ancient brickwork guarding the entrance. A corresponding pillar on the other side of the entrance had a matching plaque bearing the Grayson Coat-Of-Arms.

  Guiding her car between the massive columns, Patricia followed the road down a gentle slope where the river came into view, and then was lost behind the trees and undergrowth along the banks of the Ohio where the road followed the bottomland for a short distance. Then, through the trees, Grayson Manor appeared. This great house that had been in the Grayson family for over a century was a magnificent old red brick mansion with upper and lower verandas that ran across the entire front. The manor stood atop a knoll. The beautiful lawn spread out around the house right up to the banks of the Ohio River where a light breeze rippled across the sunlit surface of the water creating choppy whitecaps concealing dangerous undercurrents.

  In this wonderful setting, there were several small fishing boats along the banks of the river occupied by fishermen indistinct behind their billed caps. Patricia marveled at the setting. She could imagine the Grayson family fishing in the river, or because they were obviously wealthy, perhaps someone had fished for them she imagined with a laugh.

  As she approached the mansion, the evening sunlight pierced the front windows reflecting light off the heavily curtained glass, and Patricia enchanted by the beautiful estate, could see that the mansion had ivy growing unrestrained on this end of the house where it had completely overtaken the fireplace from the ground to the rooftop. This grand home of her ancestors that had stood for over a century suggested graciousness, continuance, and wealth to the young girl.

  Because the driveway went right up to the front veranda, it was possible for Patricia to park her car near the house. She stepped onto the driveway to have a look around, and Snuffles, pushing past her and barking his appreciation at being on solid ground, ran in circles looking around before disappearing around the side of the house. The beautiful large white columns was support for the second and third story verandas of the house, and the front entrance had double doors crowned by a decorative arch adorned by the fam
ily coat of arms in stained glass. Patricia caught her breath at the view as her gaze was drawn to the river. The hill sloping away from the house was framed by giant box hedges that began somewhere behind the manor and then sloped gently to the shore. In the center of the meticulously groomed lawn was a three tiered water fountain surrounded by a circular pool where the water recycled through the fountain. The girl watched amused as her funny little dog appeared from around the side of the house, and went straight to the fountain for a drink.

  Impressed by the grandeur of the manor, Patricia turned to the great doors and applied the brass doorknocker creating a resounding boom that echoed from inside the house. Only moments passed before a woman in uniform opened the door. “Hello. Can I help you?” she said, her statement and demeanor more formal than friendly. “Hi. I am Patricia Grayson. I am here to see my Uncle Flannel Grayson.” She said as she watched the maid’s manner change from formal to a watchfulness that was not lost to the young girl. “Please come in.” She invited, swinging the door open. “You can wait here.” She invited, as she left Patricia standing in the entrance hall.

  When the maid disappeared down a shadowy hallway, Patricia took note of her surroundings. A majestic winding staircase wound it’s way to the third floor with a landing on each floor leading off down darkened hallways. A chandelier, it’s crystals glittering in it’s own light, illuminated the entrance hall and the ascending staircase. On her left, a large archway led into a room so huge that, most of it, even with the light filtering in from the entranceway, remained in shadow. The only other light found its way through the heavily draped windows to reflect rainbows of color on the crystals on another unlit chandelier in the deep recesses of the room. The effect was eerie, and Patricia jumped nervously as the maid reappeared noiselessly beside her. “Hannah Ivy said that Mr. Grayson is too ill to entertain visitors, but that she will see you in the library.” She announced, as she motioned for Patricia to enter the doorway on the right. The maid, again, disappeared down the hallway.