HIDDEN MICKEY ADVENTURES 2

by Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  Not sure what they might have missed and wondering if this would be just another regular ride-through, they waited in the darkness for the Stretching Room doors to slide apart.

  Once the doors did open, smiles broke out on the faces of those nearest the exit. In a line all the way down the Portrait Gallery were all the Imagineers and Disney Legends who had worked to build the ride.

  The ripple of excitement quickly traveled back to the last ones still in the Stretching Room. They all had the chance to say hello and shake the hands of those who had done such a wonderful job on this special attraction.

  However, there were two Disney legends who were not there—and they were sorely missed. Marc and Alice, who had received the biggest applause at the dinner, were not in the receiving line. As the guests waited to board their Doom Buggies, there was a whisper of disappointment that clouded the unique event they had just experienced.

  That disappointment turned out to be short-lived. As they were riding through the Mansion, they came to what is many guests’ favorite scene: The Ballroom. And there, seated at the banquet table amid the lively ghosts, waving to the guests as they rode past the window, were Marc and Alice!

  New Orleans Square – 1850

  Lance knew Gracey couldn’t possibly be back at the mansion yet. Still, he was hesitant and decided to forgo knocking on the front door. With the knowledge that he would have to rely on his wits to get inside the house without being seen, he wished he had the Key to Disneyland in his pocket. But, Kimberly had hidden it somewhere in their house and time.

  On his way to the back of the house, Lance crawled under every open window to avoid being seen. “This is going to take forever.” He groaned when he found window after window. When he finally reached the back porch, he could hear the sounds of a busy kitchen through the open doorway. Tiptoeing cautiously up the wooden stairs, he flattened himself against the side of the house so he could listen. He was about to peek into the kitchen when he heard a flurry of movement and a pitch of alarm in the voices.

  “The Master’s come! The Master’s come!”

  Frantically looking side to side, Lance spotted a wide wicker chair well out of the light from the open door. He threw himself behind the chair and into the darkness. “How could he get back that fast? Did somebody invent the car all of a sudden?”

  “Caretaker, go grab the Master’s horse!”

  “Oh, that’s right. He must have really pushed that poor animal to get back so soon.”

  Lance sank further down behind the chair as the voices got closer to the open doorway. “Don’t dawdle in that chair, man! You know what’ll happen if he has to call for you twice.” The cook pushed the old caretaker out the door. “It’d be best if you ran, Johnny.” Satisfied she had done her job, the cook dusted some of the flour off her hands. It hung in the still air like a specter. As she turned back to the kitchen, she called inside, “All right, you lazy darlings, get that food movin’. The lords and ladies won’t serve themselves. Get those platters arranged better. Where’s the cake been set? Anne, you have the candles ready to light? Well, get on it, girl!” The good-natured, but firm commands continued as the entire kitchen staff grabbed up the anniversary feast and headed for the stairs that went up to the ballroom. “Why they couldn’t eat in the dining room like normal folk is a mystery to me.” The cook’s words began to fade as she too went up the stairs.

  Daring to come out from behind the precarious safety of the chair, Lance peered into the kitchen and found it empty. “So far, so good.” He decided to go up the same set of stairs that was generally only used by the staff. If one of them came down again and he was found, it would hopefully be one of the cook’s helpers rather than the master or one of his guests. So Lance pushed ahead and would worry about that if and when it happened.

  By the different noises he could hear, Lance saw the door that probably had taken the staff onto the floor of the ballroom. When he remembered there was a gallery up above the ballroom of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, he hoped that would be the case here as well. Another flight of stairs continued upward, so he chose that path.

  The door slowly opened on the next floor and Lance peered around the corner. He found himself in a deserted hall instead of an upper floor of the ballroom. The opulent splendor of the hallway was a stark contrast to the unpainted servant’s passageway. Seeing the large number of closed, carved doors, he figured it must be a wing of guest bedrooms. Lined with gold-framed pictures and portraits, gilded mirrors, and an occasional suit of armor, the hallway seemed to stretch forever. He halfway expected to see a candelabrum floating in midair.

  The noises from the ballroom and especially the organ could be plainly heard. It seemed loudest near the wall on his right. Lance could see a door that might lead him to his goal, but since he didn’t want to be detected, he hesitated. He couldn’t have explained why he was so intent on seeing the ballroom other than Constance said Peter had been there. Even though it was obvious his son was no longer there, he still needed to see it for himself.

  As he walked along the plush carpet, he searched for another possible entry. Just as he passed a mahogany side table topped with a vase filled with peacock feathers, he spotted a small stepstool. Not seeing any possible use for the stool to be placed right there, he had to stop and investigate. Above the stool, past eye-level, hung a portrait of a smiling girl holding a pink and white striped parasol over her head. As Lance stared at the same painting he had seen in the Stretching Room at Disneyland, he realized how thick the frame actually was and that it stuck out a ways from the wall. At six-foot two-inches tall, Lance was puzzled that the picture was mounted higher than even he could easily see.

  “Is the stool here to better view the painting? How weird.” He climbed the two steps to check it out. That brought him eye-to-eye with the pretty brunette and it also drew his attention to a lever built into the side of the frame. “What’s this?”

  With one finger, he tentatively pushed downward on the lever, his body tense and ready to run if it turned out to be some kind of an alarm. A slight movement drew his eyes back to the portrait and the girl now had open holes where her eyes once were. “Ooh, I like this,” as he eagerly pressed his face to the picture and looked through. “I might need to do this at home!”

  There must have been some kind of curved lens on the other side because Lance found he had a fish-eye view of the ballroom below. He could easily see all that was going on. If he had looked back from the other side of the wall, he would have seen that his eyes were now one of the painted duelist’s eyes.

  “Oh, I definitely need to install one of these.”

  As he looked over the length of the ballroom, his eyes returned again and again to the banquet table. Even though the food had been set out and the staff waited at attention at the far end of the room, no one had seated themselves at the table. Lance’s heart started to pound when he realized his son had indeed been there. It was solidified when he spotted the three plates arranged to look like a Hidden Mickey. “That’s my boy!”

  When he could finally drag his eyes away from the comforting sight, he watched the different people as they moved around the room. He could see twelve people now. Gracey had joined them, dressed as a high-ranking military figure—possibly Napoleon. “Figures.” Lance gave a disgusted snort.

  Constance was spotted as she sat alone and ignored. Golden goblets were passed around to everyone but her. Toasts were made that apparently excluded the hostess. When Gracey finally called for the meal to be served, everyone rushed to the table. Considering the apparent wealth of the family, he was amazed by the lack of manners and decorum as they yelled at the servants, grabbed the food and openly argued with each other. If any of his children acted that way, they would have been sent to their room. Instead of being given the seat of honor at the head of the table, Constance had to take a chair in the center. At least the servants treated her with some deference, he noted, as she was given first choice
of meats.

  Feeling like he was watching a really bad movie, Lance couldn’t turn his eyes away. He knew he should do a search of the bedrooms since everyone seemed to be in the ballroom with their dinner. But all he could do was keep watching.

  When everyone had finished stuffing themselves, Gracey motioned for the staff to clear the table. One of the men wearing a top hat sat at the organ and resumed playing. Couples began to waltz, but Lance watched the organist. With his feet pumping, he put on quite a show. His arms were animated as he pounded out the different songs and his head kept time to the music.

  Something happened off to the side of the organ and Lance had to press his face closer to see what it was. Yes, there it was again. A small panel in the wall opened and closed as the organist played. Yet, no one seemed to notice it. He figured it was too close to the other wall and too dark to see. Lance gave a small, secret smile as he recalled another hidden panel in the Captain’s Quarters in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride—a panel that had led to a great treasure.

  He suddenly drew in a sharp breath and looked away. Constance told him that Peter had been playing the organ and that he suddenly stopped. Both she and Edward had thought the boy had run away from the mansion. With more hope, Lance began to piece together the whereabouts of Peter.

  As he went back to his window into the ballroom, all he could do now was watch for an opportunity.

  There were three couples who circled the dance floor as Rollo Rumkin pounded out a lively waltz on the organ. Alone against the back wall, Constance sat in her chair and silently watched as Edward swept around the floor with the dark-haired wife of his cousin Al. Dressed in a lovely yellow gown, the young woman laughed at something Edward had whispered in her ear.

  “Now Edward, you shouldn’t say things like that. Someone might hear you.”

  “I care not for what anyone might say, Lottie. You, of all people, should know that.”

  She tapped him reprovingly on his shoulder with the fan that dangled from her wrist. ‘You know I hate being called Lottie. Even by you.”

  “Fine, Leota. So tell me: What fine revelations do you foresee for my future?” In a good mood, he teased as they made another circle.

  She gave a wide smile and glanced quickly around the room. “Isn’t it the funniest pun? They all believe I can actually see the future!”

  “Well,” he admitted, “you do look rather frightening when you hair is amiss.”

  “Is my hair amiss now?”

  “It looks lovely. And take that simpering look off of your face. We are being watched by your husband and my wife.”

  Leota didn’t seem to care too much about that fact. However, because she didn’t want her dance with Edward to end, she complied. Looking over at the side wall, she leaned closer to her dancing partner. “I see that Constance doesn’t look too happy.”

  “Doesn’t she? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Well, it is your anniversary. Perhaps you should dance with her at least one set.”

  Seeing the look that briefly came to his eyes, she knew that would not happen. Secure in her own powers, Leota boldly brought up something usually only whispered about. “So, tell me something, Edward. Did your lovely bride ever come to realize that you married her only for her fortune?”

  “My, you are in a dangerous mood tonight, Leota. Is it a full moon?”

  When he didn’t turn into a rage, she pursued the topic that intrigued her. “Well, did she?”

  Edward pulled her closer so he could whisper in her ear. “I married her for her four fortunes.”

  Her curiosity satisfied, she brought up something else that had been bothersome. “I heard you were in town today. Do tell me you did not spend time with that horrible woman….”

  Edward’s grip on her waist tightened as he led her through one more turn. When the step was finished, he slowly but firmly escorted her to one of the empty chairs at the banquet table. “You will not speak of her again. You will only be warned once.” The pressure on her arm forced her to sit.

  Her green eyes flashed in anger. “Do not lose your head, Edward.” Her warning was clear as he stalked off.

  Without even a glance at his wife, Edward now asked his Aunt Mary to dance. The tempo of the music slowed and they moved together in companionable silence. When a crash was heard somewhere in the house, all eyes looked up at the ceiling. It did not happen again, so the conversations resumed and the noise was forgotten.

  The remains of the dinner had been cleared off the table and the servants now brought in a large white cake decorated with thirteen flickering candles. With a sigh, Constance got to her feet knowing what was expected of her. Two of the men, dressed regally as kings with crowns of gold on their heads, were already sprawled at the table. Aunt Mary, the blonde hair piled high on her head slightly askew, clapped her hands with delight and rushed to the chair at the head of the table. Constance and her rightful place were again ignored. While the others laughed their encouragement, Mary practically climbed up on the table to blow out the candles.

  “And a Happy Anniversary to me.” Standing alone near the wall, Constance didn’t know why she was still bothered by the antics of the others. This night was no different than all the others they had shared. She should have been relieved she hadn’t had to take part in any of the droll conversations or family arguments that usually filled out the evening. But, her mind argued, this is my special day—such as it is. She considered going over and asking Mary to allow her to slice her own anniversary cake when another loud bang was heard overhead. But, instead, she retook her chair and arranged the folds of her dress for want of something better to do.

  When her eyes went back to the table, she could see Edward coming toward her. His face, composed with the same neutral look it usually wore in company, made it impossible for her to guess what he would want. Deep down she hoped he would ask her to dance or at least share a piece of cake.

  But that was not to be. Roughly taking her arm, he pulled her out of the chair and moved her away from the guests’ hearing. “Can you not control your servants, Constance? You do so little around there I assumed the task would not be too great for even you.”

  “Whatever are you talking of, Edward?” She tried to pull her arm away. “You’re hurting me.”

  His grasp didn’t relent. “Can you not hear the noises above? It must be that simpleton maid you insisted you need. Even though I do not see why you cannot perform the simple task of dressing yourself.”

  Constance knew not to mention Edward’s valet and footman. “If you wish me to check, I will be happy to do so.”

  The pressure on her arm finally subsided. “You do that. You are not needed here.”

  Knowing his words were true, Constance held her head high and managed to walk sedately from the ballroom. She would allow no one to see the tears of anger in her eyes.

  Peter looked wide-eyed at the table that had toppled over. “Oops.” He tried to right it, only to knock over a picture frame leaning against a dusty chair. “Well, this isn’t going very well.”

  Hours ago, after he had first climbed into the hidden room, he had slid the trapdoor back into place. As it fell into its proper resting spot, it seemed to vanish as the dust swirled and settled over it. “Hope I remember where that is.” He felt around with his shoe and could find no marking or indentation. A tall coat rack was nearby and he decided to drag it over to the middle of the trapdoor to mark its location. As he stood back in the gloom, the rack seemed to reach for him with its spindly, wooden arms. “Glad we don’t have one of those at home.”

  As he cautiously inched his way into the room, he bumped into and almost knocked over a brass candelabrum with six off-white tallow candles of various heights. Relief flooded him when he saw what it was. He quickly lit the candles with his feeble light and was glad to have the extra illumination.

  On the search now, he found a few more candles and soon the attic was filled with a soft glow. He s
oon realized the flicker of all the flames caused the cobwebs above his head to shimmer and move. “Okay, we just won’t look up there, will we?” As he moved to the closest side wall he attempted to find another door or a window. Some fresh air and sunlight would be welcome right about now.

  He continued to climb over various pieces of furniture and boxes and had made a complete circle of the room. It was then that part of the spiel from the Stretching Room came back to him. “I’m in a room with no windows and no doors. It is up to me to find the way out.” Going against his original idea, he did glance up at the high ceiling. As he ignored the webs and what might be attached to them, he gave a deep chuckle. “Of course, there is always my way.” He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed that the uppermost part of the roof was untouched by the candlelight and still in complete darkness. “Okay, this is just a creepy old attic filled with creepy old things. Not helping.”

  A considerable amount of time was spent going through open trunks and pulling out drawers in long-forgotten desks. He discovered a lot of treasures like the snarling lions carved into tables and brass cats sitting on velvet settees. “Wow, some of this stuff is really cool.” Peter wove his way around the room, careful not to run into the beams and the dangling ropes that hung down from the ceiling.

  When he found a small piano covered with thick dust and cobwebs, he spotted another filigreed silver candleholder sitting crookedly on its lid. As he hurried to light four of the tapers, he didn’t notice that some of the hot wax had fallen on a frayed doily. When he could smell something start to burn, he had to pound out the poor doily. After making sure nothing else was on fire, he wanted to try out the piano. As he raised his hand, his fingers hesitated over the ivory keys. If the instrument did still play, it might possibly alert the sour owner of the house where he was. He decided to move on instead—and completely forgot that he had already made a lot of noise. There was a small globe in a brass stand and a rather large portrait that had caught his attention. The painting was in an elaborate black frame that his mother would have loved. Raising the candle he held a little higher, he gave a gasp of recognition.