The Haunting of Alcott Manor, page 19
part #1 of Alcott Manor Series
She wiggled into the gown and carefully fastened the row of cloth-covered buttons. The dress’s train made the gown look like a wedding dress, something she’d never worn before. When she’d married the first time, it was barefoot on a California beach in jeans and a white top.
Though she didn’t have any stockings, the shoes didn’t require them. They fit like Cinderella’s slippers.
A large sheet of reflective glass that leaned against the wall served as her mirror. She inspected her makeup and then retrieved the two hair combs that sparkled. The tortoise shell combs with garnet and diamond details were as gorgeous as any two pieces of jewelry. She lifted two sections of her long hair, one from each side, and slid them into place.
The clock on the other side of the house struck half past five, thirty minutes before the time Henry said they were to meet.
When she placed her hand on the doorknob, a shiver of excitement traveled through her. This living, breathing home that had been witness to so much and endured even more throughout the years was looking forward to something. A new life? A healing? The absence of Benjamin? She hoped.
She pushed away the thought that the manor would be excited for some other reason. Something that had to do with why it wanted her here. Something to do with making her a permanent resident.
She glanced at the trunk full of secrets that Henry had locked and tucked into the corner of the room. They’d discussed whether or not to tell Tom about the trunk because the letters were of local historical value and ought to go into a museum for safekeeping.
But since the contents of them lent further motive to Benjamin as the murderer, they decided to hang on to them for a little while longer. Regardless, the birth certificate would have a new hiding place that no one would find until Gemma and Henry were ready for them to.
She walked carefully along the wraparound porch, the beaded train of her dress trailing behind her, step by step. It was a royal moment, the only one she’d ever known.
Henry waited for her at the foot of the stairs. He was tuxedo-attired, with hair wet with a neatly combed side part, appearing every bit the Victorian era gentleman. He bowed slightly, his eyes glued to her every move.
“Mademoiselle.” He held his hand out to her and when she accepted, he kissed her knuckles. The gentle warmth of his lips against her skin sent a wave of pure happiness rushing through her.
Her fingertips lightly skimmed the bodice of her dress. “Henry, everything—”
“Is beautiful.” His gaze sailed over the dress and the fit, and he didn’t give her a chance to say thank you. Instead, he pressed his lips lightly to hers—soft, wanting, loving. “Simply. Beautiful.”
She felt her cheeks flush warm. She touched the jeweled combs in her hair and wondered if he chose the red garnet specifically to coordinate with her red hair. “I can't imagine where you found it all.”
He said nothing, but his gentlemanly smile was accompanied by a gleam in his eye. “This way.” He gestured to the dining room.
She’d never been one of those girls to put on a rhinestone crown and pretend to be a princess. Since she was five, all she’d ever wanted to do was run her own business. But at this moment, she did indeed feel like a princess, escorted across this majestic home by her very own prince.
The table was set with fine bone china, crystal goblets, and ivory candles in silver candelabras. Red roses from the garden were arranged in crystal vases. She touched one of the pink roses that made up the rim of the china pattern. Such a delicate design. Hand-painted.
An older man in a waiter’s tuxedo quietly filled their champagne glasses, served oysters Rockefeller and warm bread from a silver tray, then promptly left.
“Where did you find a waiter in a tuxedo on short notice?”
“When it comes to the manor, there’s always someone around who’s willing to help.” Henry raised his glass, the effervescence sparkling above the rim. “To the restoration of a landmark, the celebration of an era, and to moving forward.”
“To moving forward,” she said. Their glasses clinked against one another. She entertained a vision of them dining together more often, less formally, but together and frequently. She could see it for years to come. She could also imagine the screen door slamming and happy giggles bouncing off the walls, replacing her earlier impressions of the manor—the more frightening ones that she could barely remember now.
She sipped the sparkling wine, and the low fire crackled in the otherwise quiet house. “So strange to hear the silence.” She set her glass on the French walnut dining table. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is rather lovely, isn’t it? Especially since it’s not the sort of thick silence that comes from an abandoned home, but just from the absence of hammering.”
She listened into the far corners of the home for violins or the sounds of Benjamin’s destruction, footsteps, or other disembodied noises.
There were none.
The sense of comfort she hadn't expected embraced her, like a perfectly sized shoe, an afternoon nap on an overstuffed couch, or the warm fall sun on her beach. The manor, at least at this moment, was happy. She exhaled fully. “Maybe the house is finding some small sense of peace.”
"I think it's well on its way." He touched his glass to hers again. “At the very least, I’m certain that it enjoys our celebrating it.” Henry smiled with ease.
Given how alive the house had been, she wondered if she ought to be concerned at Henry's comment or even the pleasure she felt. Then she decided that all homes loved being celebrated. It increased their positive energy considerably. That's probably all she was feeling.
Tomorrow things might return to normal, and she would sense those dark roots that lurked. Tonight, she could see that the haunted manor was becoming a home. A lovely home. Once again.
She and Henry talked throughout dinner as if they’d known one another for years. He regaled her with more stories of the history of the Alcott family and the home they had passed down for generations. She asked about his work in London and was happy when he confirmed that he would be with the house until the final phase of the restoration was completed. She shared details about her own business—how it had been a lifelong dream, how her work was going to be featured in a prominent magazine, and how that would be a game changer for her.
It was easy, the two of them. It hadn't started out that way, and occasionally she thought he was too obsessive about how things needed to be done. But, for the most part, the two of them moved together like a dance or a song. They fit and flowed, and she couldn’t stop herself from hoping.
She decided to wait until after the job was over before she pushed for a discussion on plans for the future. Then they would talk. Then she would know. Not because she was needy—she wasn’t. She had a life and a business waiting for her. She just wanted to know what he was thinking about all of this.
He nodded to the waiter who entered the room.
“Everything to your liking, Miss?” The waiter spoke in a smooth voice when he removed their dessert dishes and placed them on a silver tray.
“Everything was amazing, thank you.”
He nodded, obedient and gracious, and poured two glasses of port wine.
Oddly, it was her favorite digestif. How did they know? She racked her memory, wondering if she had mentioned it to Henry.
She remembered the excitement she felt from the doorknob this evening.
The house knew what she liked. What she wanted.
She wanted to worry about that, but the wine’s essence of fresh flowers and dried fruit curled around her like a warm blanket, causing her to laze about into her polished surroundings.
Henry relaxed into his chair at the end of the table, cross-legged and confident, as though this were their normal end-of-the-day routine. All that was missing from the picture was a cigar between his fingers and a hunting dog at his feet.
"It’s easy to see how this was once a family home."
"Always has been.” He sighed long and deep and cast a familiar glance around the room. It was the kind of pride she’d seen owners show when certain stages of the restoration were near the finish line.
The concerns they'd held earlier about Benjamin and deadlines drifted out to sea as if she couldn't hold on to them. She thought it strange, given how afraid she’d felt since she arrived. Now what seemed most important was being here for the manor.
It's what it wants.
The thought drifted across her mind. Some part of her felt uncertain about her sudden comfort here, but the wine and the port made her head swim. Something else, too, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
Something that wound through the house. A current. A slither. Through the manor, in its deepest insides, like blood flowed through a vein.
“All the historical pictures of Alcott Manor include one or a few of the family members. I don't think the house would have been satisfied without a crowd of Alcotts wandering its halls.” Henry rubbed his hand along the table.
Wasn't that what was already happening to some degree?
Benjamin, Anna, other Alcotts… They were here.
Or was it looking for a new generation of inhabitants?
The manor didn’t move, necessarily, but she felt its energy give her the slightest squeeze, like a hug, a gesture of warmth or assurance.
Strangely, she enjoyed being here. It felt like home. As though she could be happy here. As though brighter, contented times lay just ahead.
Maybe the work she did at Anna's death site was beginning to take effect finally. Maybe, because the dark roots were so old, it took some time for them to finally lift. Perhaps tonight was a celebration after all.
She admired the coffered ceiling that boasted a regal teal color inside the gold clover design. The entire room was celebratory now, a far cry from the darkened room it had been when she first arrived.
“The dining room really turned out beautifully, didn’t it? These moldings are exactly as the originals were. And the wall that Benjamin destroyed is now open to the porch so you can see straight through to the ocean. This room will be magical in the morning light,” she said.
Henry traced just one finger along a line of wood grain on the table. “It is…altogether perfect. I do think, Gemma, that without you, Benjamin would have destroyed even more than he did. I think you've calmed him.” He gestured toward the library.
She turned toward him, surprised. “Do you think so?”
“The damage he did this time was minor. We survived it. Thus far, anyway. It hasn't always been that way. I think you might have brought him some peace.”
“I was just thinking that the manor felt different to me tonight.”
“I think it's quite happy to have you here.” Henry’s gaze quietly roamed the walls, as if he were being watched.
Alarm bells sounded in some distant hallway of her mind that she wasn't paying attention to at the moment. When he returned his attention to her, she was confident that it was more than attraction between them. She had decided to postpone a “what’s next” discussion, but there was something she wanted to share with him. Something she wanted him to know.
They walked together to the porch window, where the last streams of afternoon light could be seen in sparkles on the ocean water.
“It’s funny how things can change in such a short period of time. When I first got here, I wanted to restore this home for my father and his business and then jet back to my own life. I feel differently about the manor now. There's more work to be done, and I have a lot going on at home, but I want to see this through. Beyond the judge’s approval. All the way through to the end. I think that done correctly, the manor could have a second life. A full life.”
“Did you say you were feeling differently about the manor now?” He appeared concerned when he took her hand.
“I’m just saying that I'm glad I’m here. I'm glad we met.” She licked her lips slowly and plunged ahead. “It’s taken me a long time to let go of Preston’s betrayal. When I first arrived here, I had no idea how much longer that process was going to take. But meeting you has taught me how to trust again.”
“Gemma—”
“I'm not— I don't have any expectations of what's next.” Happy family scenes played again like a movie in her mind. She heard the manor’s back screen door slam and then slam again. As clearly as she heard her own voice, she heard that door. Then tiny thunderous feet and giggles owned the space.
Her thoughts? House memories? House plans?
“I just…wanted to tell you that. And also to say—because of you, because of what we’ve shared, I understand this house now. Better than I did. I understand Benjamin better, too. Moving forward is never easy when you've been wronged. But it's worth it. Really worth it. Maybe now I can affect the kind of deeper healing the manor needs. I think I can figure it out now.”
I want to bring up these images. I want to ask Henry about them. Everything is so happy now. And it hasn’t been happy for such a long time…
“Gemma. If anything good has happened here, it’s because of you. You are the one who has been a genuine gift to the manor. And to me. You just don't know.” He shook his head and glanced toward the shore as if he couldn’t possibly find the words for what he wanted to say.
“You waltzed through my front door that day, took control, and changed my life. For the better. If the restoration meets its deadline, and if Benjamin has found any amount of peace, it's because of you and your work.” He kissed her with a slow gentleness that brought meaning to his words.
When their lips finally parted, idyllic happiness swirled around her with a dizzying force. “Thank you, Henry.”
“I tried to get you to leave, for your own good, to avoid the risks in this place. Honestly? Selfishly? I’m glad I failed.” He inched closer to her, his eyes intent, steady, and focused. “I don't know what your plans are after the house is finished, but I want more of what we've begun here. I don’t want to let you go. I love you, Gemma.”
His words swept her up in a flurry of emotion, and in his kiss, she could feel the threads of their love weaving their way into tomorrow and beyond.
“Oh, I love you, too, Henry,” she said with his lips so very close to hers. “I want this, too. I want us. And a future.”
What a risky thing to say. But I said it. I went for it. I leaped.
Intermittent chatter mumbled from the next room, and she caught her breath. It stopped and started like a radio with a loose connection. She spun toward the wide porch window that faced the ocean and was startled to see how dark it was outside. It had been much lighter only a moment ago.
Only a moment!
Time didn't adhere to its regular schedule in Alcott Manor. “Henry!" she whispered.
"Time to go." He grabbed her hand, and her wine glass fell to the floor in a crash. They ran until they reached the foyer, where they both stopped abruptly. Gemma gasped and Henry squeezed her hand. He shook his head and placed a finger over his lips.
Several women in formal, floor-length dresses chatted in a circle and sipped glasses of white wine at the end of the great hall.
"The president," one said before they flickered out.
"Senator Alcott will get the nod," another one said when the image reappeared. Two other women leaned toward one another, and a whispered secret was shared only between them. When the image of them finally held firm, a small chamber orchestra appeared and played just loudly enough that the women's conversation was no longer audible.
“This way.” Henry kept her hand in his and led the two of them past the circle of women, keeping as much distance from them as possible. They were just a few feet from the kitchen when the swinging door moved a little.
"Watch out.” Henry moved them to the side of the room just before a young, dark-haired waiter pushed through carrying a silver tray of champagne glasses.
When the door swung wide, they made a run for it.
Chapter 23
Gemma kicked her antique shoes onto the back patio, lifted the hem of her dress, and ran like hell across the forest green lawn with Henry at her side. When they reached the sandy shore, they stopped, breathless, and turned toward the house.
The lower floor was bright with lights, music, and guests while the manor’s memory fought to find its way to full life.
The warmth and encouragement she’d felt from the house began to unexpectedly dissipate. Like it had found another potential lover to court, another dream to weave, another guest to welcome.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Yes. Fine. Although I do feel differently now that I’m…not inside the house.” The party sounded like fun and a part of her wished to be back inside where she had been one of the guests of honor.
“Let’s stay outside for a while. Let your head clear.” Henry patted her hand and threaded it around his arm. “Might be wise.”
He guided her along the beach in the direction she’d not yet explored. From the caring firmness of his grip, she knew they wouldn’t go back to the house, or maybe even the winter garden, anytime soon.
The mid-August full moon cast a sultry reddish glow across the sand and sea and eliminated any reflection. Henry pointed to the occasional leap of a dolphin and brought her attention to the call of a hawk. She knew he was trying to distract her enough that the effects of the manor would dissipate.
He stopped and faced her. His expression was serious, her hands in his. “Gemma. If you’re no longer sure how you feel—now that we’re outside the manor—please, there isn’t any pressure to continue to agree with those statements.”
“Henry. No.” She shook her head, her gaze fixed on his. “I don’t disagree with what I said at all.” She cast a glance toward the house that was both empty and full of life at the same time. “Somehow, the manor made it look as though all my long-held dreams could all come true. At the manor.”
“Your dreams regarding your business?”
“No.” She exhaled a short laugh. “I realized those on my own. These were…other dreams.” She shook her head because she wouldn’t be describing them in any detail.
