The Apothecary's Daughter (Romance/Mystery/Suspense)

by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  So that was my mother’s story. No wonder she didn’t want anything to do with such a family. Murders, suicide, and haunting. What would make her think I would want such a place?

  I phoned Emily and told her what I discovered from my search.

  “I already heard all that crap about the house, but I didn’t know it belonged to your mother. I mean, there has been a lot of talk over the years, but I sure didn’t see this coming. Did you, Claire?”

  I sighed heavily. “I guess the more I read, the more I hoped it wasn’t true. But it is. All of it.”

  Emily chuckled lightly. “I’m sure the house isn’t really haunted though.”

  “How do you know, Em?”

  “You know there’s only one way to find out.”

  “I’m not going there by myself. Are you crazy?”

  “Claire, don’t be such a baby. But you probably have to go see the lawyer and sign some papers and get a key or something first.”

  “Oh crap. I forgot about the lawyer. He probably thinks I’m an idiot for running out of his office the way I did.”

  “Who cares what he thinks, Claire? Go get your key and you won’t ever have to see him again.”

  “What if I don’t want the key, Em?”

  “Give it to me. I could use a bigger house.”

  “I don’t understand you, Em. Why would you want to live in a house that is haunted? Maybe that’s why my mother didn’t want to live in it.”

  “She couldn’t live in it or your father would have divorced her and taken it from her. Then she wouldn’t have been able to give it to you.”

  “But I’ll bet he could still take it. He’s a widower now because they never divorced.”

  “I think you better call that lawyer right now, Claire. It’s the only way you’re going to find out the truth and how to protect your inheritance. I wouldn’t worry so much about it being haunted. Your mother would never give you the house if she thought it was haunted. And you can’t let your father get his grubby hands on it now. Not after your mother went to such lengths to preserve it for you.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I’ll call that lawyer right now.”

  “Call me back as soon as you get off the phone with him.”

  I agreed and hung up the phone, then went to my room to get the business card so I could call Mr. Avery. I made an appointment for an hour from now, hoping that the quick appointment would prevent me from chickening out again.

  

  Once again, I found myself waiting in Mr. Avery’s office, but this time I was determined to stay put. The wall beside his desk consisted of tall windows that overlooked a lake, complete with long grasses and cat-tails at the water’s edge. The water rippled in the breeze, causing a family of ducks to bob up and down in the water like little boats braving the rough waters of the ocean.

  Mr. Avery interrupted my thoughts about the ducks as he entered the room. He gestured me toward a chair in front of the desk, and I watched him as he walked around his desk and took his seat behind it very proudly. Emily and Ida had been right about one thing. They both agreed with me that he was definitely very nice looking.

  Focus, Claire. You are here to talk about your mother’s last wishes. But keep it light because you don’t want to cry in front of this beautiful man.

  Mr. Avery placed some papers in front of me, then, slid an envelope with my mother’s handwriting on it over the top of the papers. “This letter from your mother might help to clear up a few things about the estate. Would you like to read it before we move on?”

  I picked up the envelope and traced over the letters of my name with my fingers, already feeling the lump form in the back of my throat. “Do I have to read it now, or can I wait until later?”

  “If you would rather read it later in private, I completely understand. Shall we proceed?”

  I nodded as he began to explain the things I already knew from talking to Ida and my research on the internet. He confirmed that the manor had lain vacant since 1901 when the children were all found dead the morning after their mother’s funeral, and that Dr. Blackwell had been accused of murdering them and was put in prison, where he hanged himself a week later. The Widow Karington, Dr. Edward Blackwell’s older sister of ten years, had resided in the cottage across the lake from Peyton Manor until she passed away in 1953, just two days after leaving my mother at the orphanage with the papers bequeathing the entire one-hundred acre estate, including both houses and the orphanage to her, along with a generous donation to care for my mother while she resided in the orphanage.

  Eleanor Karington, who’d gone by the name of Ellie, was the unwed, fifteen-year-old great granddaughter of the Widow Karington, who had come to live with her when both her parents died in a car accident two years before. At ninety-two, the Widow Karington was too old to properly care for the teen, and was unaware she fell into trouble. Ellie had indeed died giving birth to my mother, and there was no mention of who had fathered the child.

  Mr. Avery went on to say that even though the furnishings in the home had remained undisturbed since the Blackwell family had lived in the manor, the Widow Karington had installed updated electric and plumbing in an attempt at selling the property. Since the rumors of haunting had plagued the estate, she was unsuccessful in selling the property. However, many offers were made on the land, but the Widow Karington rejected all proposals, knowing the manor would be demolished in the process.

  The Widow Karington held fast to her brother’s innocence, claiming he was incapable of hurting the children, despite the fact he had decided after his wife’s death to place the children in the orphanage so he could travel for work, since his wife’s illness had nearly wiped them out financially. Dr. Blackwell was an apothecary physician who owned a traveling medicine show complete with tonics and elixirs he himself had patented, and needed to travel again to earn money for his family. The Widow Karington had rejected the idea of caring for the children by herself, as she was mourning the recent loss of her husband, and had fallen ill at the time.

  “The only thing I want to know is whether or not my father—I mean, this Grayson Mayfield III—if that’s his real name, has any right to take this from me. I think it was very important to my mother that he would never be allowed a dime of the money or an inch of the property.”

  “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. First I have to have you sign some papers for it to even become yours.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not signing anything if it means this man can turn around and take it from me.”

  “Relax, Miss Mayfield, he will have a tough time trying to convince a judge to let him take property from his deceased wife whom he left twenty-six years ago, and from you, his daughter, with whom he’s never attempted to have a relationship with. The judge might just decide to make him pay back-child support for the eighteen years he never paid.”

  “That’s pretty funny. I like that, Mr. Avery.”

  “Please, call me Ben. We will be spending a fair amount of time ironing out all the details of the estate, and it might make the work a little easier for both of us if we don’t have to be so formal all the time.”

  “Okay, Ben. I suppose it would be nicer if you called me Claire. Miss Mayfield was beginning to sound a bit too formal. So where do we begin?”

  “First things first. I will need for you to review the contracts for the orphanage in order for it to remain open under new ownership.”

  I scrunched up my face. “Are there children living there right now?”

  Ben flipped through several pages of the orphanage documents. “It says here there are twelve children currently residing in the orphanage.”

  “Does that mean those kids belong to me?”

  “Well, not technically. The building and the property belong to you, but the children are placed by the state and there is state funding as well as funding through residual investments that were made by the Widow Karington. It’s a bit complicated, and a rather unusual situation, but it
has worked ever since Dr. Blackwell built it back in 1885 when he built both the manor and the cottage across the lake as a wedding present for Peyton, his wife. The orphanage was a “project” of Mrs. Blackwell’s until she fell ill with leukemia just after the birth of the youngest of the three children.”

  “Did the dad really kill those kids? Did they die in the house?”

  “Yes the children died in the manor, but I don’t have any idea of Dr. Blackwell’s guilt or not. The Widow Karington spoke to the newspapers several times on her brother’s behalf, claiming his innocence, but he was put in prison for it. Unfortunately, he hanged himself before he was given a proper trial.”

  “That could make him seem guilty—or, he could have been grieving so much that he didn’t want to live without them. It’s almost romantic in a sick sort of way.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

  He handed me the papers and I read over them the best I could, not wanting to ask too many questions for fear I would look stupid. I trusted Ben, I suppose. If nothing else, everything seemed so complicated, it had to be legal.

  I looked up at Ben, feeling a little overwhelmed by all the legal jargon contained in the contracts. “Am I supposed to get a second opinion?”

  Ben cleared his throat. “I suppose if you wanted to, you can have another attorney look over the contracts. It might put your mind at ease to know that your mother hired my father’s firm twenty-six years ago to handle her affairs, and the firm has been taking care of everything very smoothly ever since.”

  “You don’t look old enough to have been handling my mother’s affairs for twenty-six years.”

  Ben chuckled. “Not me, personally, but the law firm; my father, in particular. It’s my father’s firm and I’m only handling this in his absence since he will be out of the country for another three weeks. I’m only twenty-seven, so I was just a baby when your mother handed her affairs over to this firm.”

  I sized him up. “So you must be fresh out of law school.”

  “Fairly recently, yes. I’m a Public Defender, but let me reassure you, I’m only handling this in my father’s absence at his request, and the senior partners will oversee everything so no mistakes will be made.”

  I put a hand under my chin and stared at the contracts on the desk in front of me. “You do seem very knowledgeable of the situation.”

  “Well, Claire, I always make it a point to review all cases before I begin to work on them. I have to say, this case is very interesting. Not to mention, after you ran out of here, I knew I had to treat this as more than just a case because of all the history and emotion involved.”

  I covered my face at his comments, hoping to hide the red hotness I felt sweeping over my cheeks. “I’m sorry I ran out of here, I was really nervous.”

  He put his hand on mine; excitement surged through me at his touch. “Don’t feel bad for running out of here. I admire you for coming back. I’m not sure I could be that brave.”

  He smiled a warm smile, his hand remaining on mine.

  Is he flirting with me or just being kind?

  I tried hard to focus, staring at the contracts to keep me from forgetting why I was there. Maybe if I’d been talking to the older version of him, I wouldn’t feel nervous because there wouldn’t be any attraction. Still, I couldn’t concentrate on what I was doing no matter what, so I asked for a pen and began to sign my name to every page with the tell-tale arrows on them requesting my signature.

  Ben watched as I mindlessly signed each page. “Don’t you want to read over those contracts first before you sign them?”

  “If my mother trusted this firm, then I trust them.”

  He nodded a look of understanding. “Then we will move to the contracts for the manor and the cottage. Would you like me to send a team out to the property to clean it or anything for you?”

  “That won’t be necessary. It’s not like I’ll ever see it. Just leave things the way they are.”

  Ben opened an envelope and handed me a set of keys.

  “Just in case you change your mind.”

  I held them up to examine them. “Skeleton keys. How appropriate.”

  I pushed them back in his hand. I had no use for them. As tempted as I was to explore, my fear of the possible haunting of the place won over any curiosity I could possibly have for the property.

  Ben looked confused. “You don’t even want to see the place? I hear it’s very grand.”

  I squinted my eyes at him. “A house that’s been closed up with three ghosts for more than one hundred years? Not my idea of anything grand.”

  Ben winked at me. “I have to admit, I’m kind of curious. And who doesn’t love a good ghost story?”

  “Someone who doesn’t like dead things. I had a tough enough time being at my own mother’s funeral. Graveyards and haunted houses are not for sissies. And I am a big sissy.”

  “Would you like me to prove to you there are no ghosts in the manor?”

  “Is that what you meant by sending a team out to clean it up before I see it? What sort of team will you send? The Ghost Busters?”

  He laughed.

  “Don’t laugh at me, Mr. Avery. I’m serious.”

  “I thought we decided you were going to call me Ben. I wasn’t laughing at you, only at what you said. You’re very funny. If I go with you to see the property and prove to you there are no ghosts, will you go?”

  I thought about it for a minute. “Okay, Ben. But to be honest, I’m a little curious about the orphanage, but only because my mother lived there until she was only a few years younger than I am now.”

  “I would be more than happy to escort you and look things over for you. The senior partners have all toured the property, but I haven’t had the opportunity to see it yet. What do you say?”

  “I’ll go. But I’m not stepping one foot in the manor. Not kidding.”

  Ben smiled. “We can go tomorrow if you’d like?”

  “I’ll have to make it for Friday instead because tomorrow we’re having a birthday party for my mother at the diner. I know it’s a little strange, but I know it would mean a lot to Frank and Ida, and all my mother’s friends.”

  His smile softened. “No. It doesn’t sound strange. I’ll meet you here at ten O’clock on Friday. We can ride together.”

  I liked the idea of going with him, and thought about Emily, knowing she would want to go, but I wasn’t wild about the idea of having her and Isabelle in tow, especially when I wanted the chance to get to know Ben a little better. I was sure his kindness toward me was part of his job, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t take advantage of having a good-looking man to protect me from the ghosts—if we should happen to run into any.

  

  The diner was packed. I was happy when I arrived fifteen minutes early, and saw that it was already standing-room only, just like the gathering after the funeral. Maxine was behind the counter with Ida trying to blow up balloons. Maxine and my mother had always made up funny stories about out-of-town customers, which included giving them names and occupations. Then they would talk to the customers over the course of their visit to see how many details they had guessed correctly. My mother usually won. She said that being with my father had taught her to judge a person’s character more closely, and to pay attention to details. She always did have an eye for details. It was one of the reasons I thought she could do better than the diner as a choice of occupation. Despite what I thought, my mother had been very happy working with these people, and they certainly loved her, as proven by their presence at her party.

  I took a plate of fries and sat in the booth that was reserved for Emily and me. When I put my purse on the seat next to me, I noticed the letter that Ben had given me from my mother. I pulled it out and ran my fingers over her handwriting on the outside of the envelope once again, as though I could somehow sense her presence in the lines of my name. I hadn’t yet been able to open it to discover its content, and stil
l debated as to whether or not I was ready to read it, but I was still too afraid of what it might say.

  Emily plopped into the seat across from me in the booth. “Is that the letter?”

  I held it up to her. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to read it.”

  “You have to read it, Claire. Lucy wrote it so you would know her side of the inheritance story. She has a right to be heard, especially since she isn’t here to tell you in person.”

  She left me alone in the booth with my letter, and I wondered if I was really ready to read what would be my mother’s last words to me. I opened the envelope slowly, fearing what was inside; fearing the words of a dying woman, desperate to take her secret to the grave. I couldn’t understand why she never told me. Why she never found the right time to explain things to me in person. I suddenly resented the letter, and placed it back in the envelope with the intention to never read it.