Belle Manor Haunting

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  From the looks of things, Addison was locked in a seventies time warp.

  Theo jerked his head to the right and shouted, “Scarlett, Look out!”

  A truck traveling the opposite direction plowed through the stop sign, slamming into the car Scarlett was driving. The car spun ‘round and ‘round, skidding across the street, before nose-diving into a tree. When everything came to a sputtering stop and Addison’s head stopped spinning, she opened her eyes and canvassed her surroundings. She was seated on the ground several feet from the car. She looked herself up and down. There wasn’t a scratch on her.

  Her thoughts turned to the car’s other passengers.

  Addison’s eyes first came to rest on Theo. He had been thrown from the vehicle, his bloodied body lying face down on the pavement. Addison stood up and ran toward the car. Scarlett was in the front seat. The smashed-up auto had folded into itself, sandwiching Scarlett between twisted layers of bent metal. Half of the back seat had been ripped off, and Sara was missing. So was the other car and its driver. Apparently, the offender had just driven off.

  Addison whipped around and shouted, “Sara! Where are you? Can you hear me?”

  Cars screeched to a stop on both sides of the road, taking in the gruesome sight. People leapt from their cars and bolted to the scene of the accident, slapping their hands over their mouths and standing in horror as they witnessed the accident’s deadly aftermath.

  A small group of people huddled together on the other side of the car. At first, Addison assumed they were discussing what they’d just seen until a teary-eyed woman dropped to the ground. Addison squeezed through the growing group of spectators, fearing the worst. There, on the ground, bruised and broken, was Sara’s lifeless body.

  “Addison, can you hear me?”

  Luke’s voice seemed distant like he was calling to her from the opposite end of a long corridor. Her eyes opened, and she found herself on the floor in the hospital room. Luke hovered over her.

  Addison sat up, her eyes darting around. “Where did she go? Where is she?”

  “Amara Jane? She’s with your dad. He’s just outside the door. I can get him if you like. I wanted to check on you first before I brought her back to you. I thought you might be asleep.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the baby. I mean ...”

  Sara. She meant Sara. The present moment didn’t seem like the right time to discuss what had occurred over the last several minutes. Luke had been aware of Addison’s unique abilities for years, and though he’d always been supportive, once Addison became pregnant, his concern about her afterlife visitors heightened when he thought about what it meant for their baby. Addison didn’t choose when a spirit made contact, and she hadn’t had any such visits since she first learned she was pregnant. For a while she’d wondered if she’d been given a short reprieve—a reprieve that seemed to be over.

  Addison reached for Luke’s hand, and she came to a standing position.

  “What happened?” Addison asked.

  “I hoped you could tell me. I came back into the room and found you on the floor. I was just headed to the nurse’s station to get help. I thought you were unconscious.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “I’m not sure. I found you about thirty seconds before your eyes opened. How did you end up on the floor in the first place?”

  Addison looked away, unsure of the explanation she wanted to give. She didn’t want to lie. She didn’t want to tell the truth, either. Not yet.

  He raised a brow. “It happened, didn’t it? Someone made contact.”

  Addison nodded. “A little girl named Sara. She came into my room looking for her nanny. I didn’t know she wasn’t alive at first. She was crying, and she looked scared. I got out of bed, and said I’d help her. I took her hand, and the room went dark. When the darkness cleared, I found myself back in the seventies.”

  “The seventies?”

  “I believe it’s the time period Sara died in. I think her parents own Belle Manor, the house in the forest above the city.”

  “Belle Manor. I know it. I’ve always hoped I’d get a look at it one of these days. There was an article in the local paper years ago about past tragedies in the area. The Belles were one of the families featured, but I don’t remember all the details.”

  “I saw the whole thing,” Addison said. “I saw what happened to her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sara took me back to the day it happened. There was an accident. A car ran through the stop sign, slamming into the vehicle Sara’s nanny was driving. There were three of them in the car: Sara, the nanny, and a boy I believe was the nanny’s boyfriend. They all died. At least, I think they all died.”

  Luke crossed his arms and sighed. “I don’t like this. You just had the baby. We’re not even home yet.”

  “I get it. I do. But she’s made contact now, and she’s confused. I need to help her.”

  “No, you don’t. She’s waited this long. She can wait a bit more.”

  “There’s a reason she’s still here, Luke. The faster I can find out why, the faster she can move on, and we can get back to our lives.”

  He shook his head. “Until another spirit comes along seeking your help, you mean?”

  “I know it’s not what you want to hear. I don’t know what else to say.”

  Luke reached out, taking Addison’s hand in his. “It’s out of your control. I get it. I just want you and the baby to be safe.”

  “I know you do, and we will be. We’re protected.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  She wasn’t, but she believed one new item in her arsenal would provide such protection—a book left to her by her grandmother.

  The book of enchantments had been given to Addison right before her grandmother passed away. Addison clutched it in her hands and sat on the bed, staring at the embossed image in the center of the book’s cover. Three women stood around a pillar of light—a grandmother, a daughter, and a grandchild, symbols of magic from one generation to another.

  Given the book’s weathered age, Addison had expected to find its pages filled with spells when she’d first received it, until she’d cracked it open, poring over the words written by her ancestors. The pages read like lyrical verses of music, each offering wisdom, warning, advice, and best of all—enchantment.

  When Marjorie offered it to Addison, she’d said, “With this book you have all the power you can possess, everything I have.”

  And yet, even after taking possession of the book, she still felt a part of her was missing.

  Addison closed the book, put it to the side, grabbed her laptop off the nightstand, and went to the main page of the Rhinebeck Bee, a long-standing local newspaper established in the thirties. In the search bar she typed: car crash, Sara Belle, Scarlett, Theo, 70s.

  The inquiry yielded several results. Most interesting was a front-page story dated August 12, 1973, which included a large, black-and-white photograph of the car taken at the scene of the crash. The article read:

  A young woman and child are dead, and a third person has been critically injured following a hit-and-run traffic accident five days ago at the intersection of Dawson and Nile. The two lives claimed were a young girl, Sara Belle, 6, and her nanny, Scarlett Whittaker, 20. Still in serious condition at Duke Hospital’s intensive care unit is Theodore Price, 21.

  State police have reported the accident took place at 4:30 in the afternoon. Scarlett Whittaker, who was operating the car at the time, was found in the driver’s seat. It is believed she died on impact. Sara Belle was thrown several feet from the car and also perished at the scene. Theodore Price suffered multiple broken bones and a severe head injury, but after two surgeries in the days following the accident, doctors believe there’s a good chance he may survive.

  Scarlett Whittaker was traveling north when a dark blue or black truck ran a stop sign, striking her vehicle in the side. Whittaker’s car spiraled out of control, crashing into a t
ree, where it was demolished. The unknown driver of the other vehicle fled the scene, and as of today, he or she has not yet been identified. Police are asking anyone who may have information about the hit-and-run driver or anyone in the area at the time of the crash to please come forward.

  Addison combed through stories related to the crash and discovered Theo had lived. She also found a smattering of mentions on the continued search for the unknown individual driving the truck. According to the articles, the hit-and-run driver had never been identified.

  Addison leaned back on a pillow and closed her eyes, recalling the moment Theo had spotted the other car. For a split second Addison could have sworn she’d seen the driver, but his face was blurred, like he was being viewed through a kaleidoscope.

  Why had he run the stop sign in the first place?

  Had he seen it?

  Was it intentional?

  Multiple theories flooded her mind.

  Maybe the other driver had been drunk at the time. Maybe he’d fallen asleep at the wheel. Or maybe the reason for the crash was something far more sinister.

  A quick Google search provided Addison with a lead. Theodore Price was now sixty-seven-years old. He was married, owned an auto parts store, and he lived in Hyde Park, a short twenty-minute drive away.

  Luke entered the bedroom and narrowed his eyes. “What are you up to in here?”

  “Just getting some rest while the baby’s sleeping,” Addison said.

  He scanned the bed and thumbed toward the book. “Rest and some light reading?”

  Something like that.

  “Sara will contact me again,” Addison said. “She’s scared, Luke. I’m not sure she understands what happened to her.”

  “Yeah, well, I came upstairs to tell you Lia’s downstairs. She stopped by to see how we’re all doing.”

  Addison had first met Lia McReedy when Addison moved to Rhinebeck and discovered some old bones on the property surrounding the manor. Lia was the medical examiner who had been assigned to the case. They’d clashed a bit at first, but over time, the pair had become close friends.

  Addison found Lia in the living room, staring at a shadow box on the wall containing a vintage white cloche hat and matching lace gloves.

  Lia tipped her head toward the display. “Nice. When did you get it framed?”

  “About a week ago. They were Gran’s.”

  Lia nodded. “I remember. Those were the gloves she wore the weekend of your wedding, right?”

  Addison nodded.

  “Marjorie was so posh,” Lia said. “I’ve never seen a woman so stylish in their older age. She reminded me of Sophia Loren.”

  “She would have loved the compliment.”

  “How are you, and how’s the baby?”

  “We’re both doing well.”

  Lia reached into her handbag and pulled out a box dressed in pink and yellow wrapping paper. “I come bearing gifts, and I was hoping I’d get the chance to hold the little one if it’s possible.”

  “She’s asleep. If you can hang around for a bit, she should be awake soon.”

  Lia lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m sorry. I should have called first.”

  “It’s all right,” Addison said. “You don’t need to whisper. Your timing is perfect. I was going to call you. I’m in need of a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “The kind where I use the book Marjorie gave me.”

  Lia crossed her arms and leaned forward. “Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

  “I am. A young girl made contact with me at the hospital.”

  Addison filled Lia in on the details.

  When she finished, Lia said, “Poor thing. Where is Sara now?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her again. I’m going to give her a bit more time, and if she still doesn’t make contact, I’ll summon her.”

  Lia raised a brow. “You and Marjorie used to do that together. Can you do it without her?”

  “I think so.”

  “Guess you’ll never know until you try. What can I do to help?”

  “Any chance the police would still have the evidence they found on the day of the accident? And if so, are you able to get your hands on it?”

  Lia considered the question. “We keep everything, so I’d say we still have it. It’s an old case no one’s interested in anymore. Shouldn’t be too hard to find someone willing to let me take a look. Anything else?”

  “I’m hoping something the police collected will help me piece together what I don’t already know.”

  “Evidence was a lot different in the seventies. There are tests we can run now that they didn’t have back then. If I find something of value, I’ll let you know.”

  Addison shot Lia a wink. “Or you go one better and bring it to me.”

  Belle Manor was nestled atop a steep, winding hill behind a grove of trees, making it so secluded, it was hidden from the city below. In the years since Addison had moved to the area, she hadn’t noticed the manor until the day she’d gone for a hike on a dirt trail above the city. She’d followed a bird up a steep path, watched it perch on a branch, and then spread its wings and fly away. Addison had watched it soar through the sky, and then her attention diverted to a cluster of shiny, metallic objects reflecting off the sun. They appeared to be spires on top of an enormous house.

  A few days later, Addison had indulged her curiosity and stopped into a local coffee shop to ask Janice Yaraskovitch, one of the town’s oldest residents and a local historian, what she knew about the mysterious manor she thought she’d seen. Janice said the manor had once been considered the most lavish home in the area. Built in the late 1800s, Belle Manor was a place the upper class gathered to watch movies in its grand theater room while mingling and sipping on cocktails. The owners, Lawrence and Cecilia Belle, had both come from well-to-do families, with Lawrence’s parents owning a plantation in the South. Under a great deal of pressure to remain at the plantation and take it over when his father retired, Lawrence sought to escape. During a visit to New York City, an opportunity presented itself when he met and fell in love with an aspiring actress named Cecilia DuPont. One week later he left his home in Louisiana and relocated to New York.

  According to Janice, the Belles had hosted movie nights and dinner parties on Friday and Saturday nights for a number of years, which often included the film’s actors and actresses. She’d said celebrities flocked to Belle Manor because of its isolated location. It was a place they could escape, far from the public eye.

  Life at Belle Manor hummed along for years before the accident. After, the parties ceased. Rumors lingered, most suggesting Lawrence and Cecilia became reclusive homebodies, fractions of the glamorous couple they’d once been.

  Little was known of them now, and Addison decided it was time to find out why.

  Addison wound the car up a steep, cobblestone road, passing an open gate before she arrived at the Victorian, gothic-style manor. The manor was nothing like it had been in its youth. It was in a state of decline and disrepair. Pieces of the exterior were faded and chipped off, exposing such an overabundance of neglect, Addison wondered if the manor had been abandoned.

  She parked the car and stepped outside.

  It was quiet.

  Eerily quiet.

  Too quiet, almost.

  There was no rustling of trees, no birds chirping, no animals sounding off in the distance. Addison surveyed her surroundings, taking it all in. The diabolical sound of a man’s voice kicked up like a cyclone spinning around her, whispering words inside her ears.

  Get out ... leave this place ... you shouldn’t be here.”

  She spun around, searching for someone—anyone.

  No one was there.

  She was alone.

  She headed toward the front door, stopping when the voice started again.

  “Hear what I say. You’re not wanted here ... WITCH.”

  Witch?

  It was a
label she hadn’t been called before.

  “Whoever you are, I’m not leaving,” Addison said.

  The voices circled around her and she pressed on, ignoring the warnings. The front door opened, and a short, elderly gentleman with a thick, gray beard and eyes too small for his large, elongated face hustled toward her, letting the door close behind him. He wore a collared shirt beneath a black sweater and dark slacks. Based on the irked expression on his face, he wasn’t happy she was there.

  He stabbed a finger in her direction and said, “How did you get here?”

  Not expecting such a gruff welcome, Addison wasn’t sure how to respond. “I ... umm ... drove.”

  “Let’s try again. I’m asking how you managed to get through the gate. It was closed, and it was locked.”

  “The gate was open.”

  He frowned. “Nope, impossible.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m lying?”

  “I am. I don’t know you. I have no reason to believe you’re telling the truth.”

  “Drive down and see for yourself.”

  He folded his arms and huffed a sigh of irritation. “Even if the gate was open, as you allege, there are still signs posted there.”

  Addison shrugged. “What signs? I didn’t see any.”

  He rolled his eyes. “The ones stating you’re entering private property. They say ‘no trespassing’ in capital letters.”

  The gate had been open when she came through, and as for the signs, she hadn’t noticed any. Was it possible she’d missed them?

  “I’m not sure what to say,” she said. “I saw no signs.”

  “Now I know you’re lying.”

  “I was preoccupied. It’s a beautiful drive.”

  “The point is, you don’t have permission to be here.”

  “Is this how you welcome all your guests?”

  He glared at her like she was joking. “Guests are invited. You were not.”

  “I’m here to see Lawrence and Cecilia Belle. Do they live here?”