Chapter Seven

"U ncle!" Violet gasped. She dashed to his side and touched his shoulder. "Uncle."

"Here, get back, Miss Thorn. Let me see to him," Mr. Fairbanks said.

"He's cold. Is he…?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"You are a doctor?" Mr. Ludlow asked Mr. Fairbanks.

"No, but I know a little. I've seen some action." Mr. Fairbanks didn't elaborate. He gently nudged Violet aside and leaned forward, pressing his ear to Mr. Griffin's chest. He took the man's wrist in his hand and removed a pocket watch from his pocket, counting. A few seconds later, he lowered her uncle's wrist. "He lives. He's still alive, but his pulse is weak. He needs a doctor."

Violet spotted a small pool of blood behind her uncle's head. "Look at that. He's been hit."

Mr. Ludlow picked up Mrs. Hemlock. "What am I to do with her? She's fainted."

"Lay her down, man. Make her comfortable," Mr. Fairbanks said.

Mr. Ludlow laid her down on a creaking sofa, which exhaled a plume of dust. He coughed, brushing the dust away from his clothes. "Dratted dust. I hate attics."

"What about the woman?" Violet asked. "Did either of you see her?"

"What woman? You saw someone?" Mr. Ludlow looked around, his eyes wide.

"Violet, now is not the time to be throwing ghost stories around. Your uncle may be seriously hurt." Mr. Fairbanks's tone was curt. He gently felt around Mr. Griffin's head. "He has been hit with something. A hard object, I would guess."

A few minutes later, there came a sound. "Hello? Is anyone there?" Miss Eagle stood in the doorway, holding a candle. "Hello?"

"Miss Eagle? Come, we need you," Mr. Fairbanks said. "Bring the candle here now."

Miss Eagle screeched. "Is that a body? Oh, my god. Is he dead? Is that dear old Mr. Griffin? Was it the ghost?"

Mr. Fairbanks took the candle from her. "There was no ghost. But this little party has gone far enough. Miss Eagle, Mr. Ludlow, go downstairs and bring some servants up here. Mr. Edwin needs help, and he needs a doctor. The least we can do is make him comfortable."

Mr. Ludlow and Miss Eagle left, taking the candle with them. That plunged the room into darkness, and Violet shivered beside Mr. Fairbanks. "I wasn't lying about the ghost. I did see someone."

"I have no doubt you did, but it's past time to be playing little jokes on each other, don't you think?" he said rudely.

"What are you on about? I haven't played tricks on anyone," she said.

"Oh, really? What about the suit of armor that crashed when only you were in the corridor? Or hiding in another room when you thought I was coming in? I saw the bookshelf close and a bit of a skirt, just as I was walking into the library. I know it was you."

"What? What are you talking about? What bookshelf?" She looked at him, confused.

His eyebrows rose. "You mean you didn't…" He paused. "Then that means…"

"There's another secret passage," they both said.

Mr. Fairbanks gripped her shoulders in excitement. "I could kiss you."

She blushed.

He dropped his hands. "Sorry. Who knew this Gothic pile would have so many secret passages?"

"We should have known. Miss Eagle and my uncle came through earlier. It might have been a priest's bolt hole you saw. Many of these old houses had them during the Renaissance, to avoid persecution from the Protestants, during Queen Elizabeth's reign."

He gave her an admiring smile. "You know your history."

"I try." She smiled back. "I want to find the secret passage, but first, my uncle. How on earth did he end up here?"

"I'll check his pockets. Maybe he's got some clue or evidence on him that will say." Mr. Fairbanks began rifling through his trouser pockets, then his suit jacket. "Aha."

From her uncle's jacket pocket, Mr. Fairbanks removed a note.

"What does it say?" Violet asked.

Mr. Fairbanks tilted it toward the light. "It says… Come to the attic at midnight."

Violet shuddered. "How dreadful. Then whoever brought him up here…"

"Tried to kill him. And they almost succeeded. Let's not speak of this yet to anyone. Not until we're sure. We know it wasn't either of us, as we were together most of the time."

"Which means it could have been one of the others. But who, and why? Who would want to hurt my uncle?"

At that moment the servants arrived, with candles and lanterns. The men carefully brought Uncle Edwin downstairs, followed by Mrs. Hemlock, who sat up and coughed at all the dust. Helped by Mr. Fairbanks and trailed by Miss Eagle, Violet followed them all downstairs.

Violet supervised the footmen, who took Edwin to his room, and she watched as the maids prepared his bed in the master bedroom and tried to make him comfortable. She stood by, wringing her hands and fretting, as he looked extremely pale. One servant dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth whilst another propped him up on a series of pillows, trying to gently wake him up. He lay unconscious, barely breathing. He looked dead.

Mr. Fairbanks came in and closed the door behind him. "A servant has gone to call for a doctor. As soon as the rain stops and you can get through, they'll bring one here."

Once it was just them alone in the room, he surveyed Uncle Edwin, checking his pulse again. "He's not woken up yet?"

"No." Violet shook her head. "Will he die?"

"I don't think so. But he came close. If we hadn't found him, I would not want to guess what could have happened." He swallowed and stood back. "Miss Thorn, a word."

Violet took the damp cloth from the servant wiping her uncle's brow and said, "I'll keep watch over him. Thank you." She waited for the servants to leave. Doing so would leave her and Mr. Fairbanks alone in a room with her uncle, and she should think about the propriety of it all. But she was too concerned to worry about that. Besides, she was for all intents and purposes a spinster. Maybe her parents were right and she shouldn't care about meeting eligible men.

Once the servants had left, Mr. Fairbanks said, "We need to think very carefully about what we tell the others."

"I agree. Who would have wanted to hurt him? Could it have been an accident?"

"I don't think so." He held out the note to her. "Whoever did this meant to draw him up to the attic then. The question is why he came alone when he could have brought us as backup. Why not tell you he was leaving? Why go himself when he knew there was trouble afoot?"

"He thought someone here was going to try to kill him. He just didn't know who."

"So he decided to have a party? What a funny idea." Mr. Fairbanks rubbed the side of his face. "I'm all for a bit of eccentricity, but that's a bit much. Let me guess. He thought everyone invited here might be a potential suspect."

Violet nodded.

"Well, I think we can rule us out," he said.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Think about it. We were together in the moments before midnight. And we were together before that too."

"But before then, you could have lured my uncle away. He did leave me in the library."

"Remember the note, though. It instructs him to go up at the stroke of midnight. And when we discovered him, he was still warm. If I'd gone up to hurt him, I wouldn't have been with you all that time." He looked at her. "And you're overlooking something."

"What's that?"

"I know we barely know each other, but I'm not one for theatrics. If I'm going to hurt a man, I'll do it face to face. I'm not going to issue an invitation to murder. And I certainly wouldn't club a man half to death in the dark." He shook his head. "It seems like the sort of thing Mr. Ludlow would do."

"What makes you say that?"

He scratched his chin. "Something about him. He's far too jolly and keen to know about what happens to the prize money if something were to happen to the rest of us. It rather makes me think that he would have pulled that trick on you with the suit of armor. Maybe he thought he could scare you into leaving."

"But I didn't see anyone. And if what you say is true, he had more reason to want to scare us away, rather than hurt my uncle. Besides, he was with us when we opened the door at midnight. My uncle was already injured at that time."

"Fair point. Shall we explore the secret passages?"

"Yes. But I don't want to leave my uncle."

"I know. I'll ask a maidservant to stand by and keep watch over him."

"What should we tell the others?" she wondered.

"That is for you to decide. As his closest relative here, I think that decision belongs to you. But if I may make a suggestion, I would tell the others that he is dead."

"Why?"

"Because that is what he feared, and someone tried to kill him," he told her.

"I don't believe in ghosts." She frowned, her eyebrows furrowing. She didn't believe in ghosts, and yet… The woman she'd seen had been real. She knew it.

"Nor do I. But someone may have tried to dress up as one and scare him, or if that didn't work, club him to death." He looked at her. "Are you all right?"

"A little shaken, but I'm okay. You think my telling the others he is dead will put whoever did it at ease and give something away?"

"Yes. Exactly that. What say you?" he asked.

"All right. Are you sure about this? What if the servants can't be trusted?" She glanced at the door.

"He has an agreement for them to work for him this weekend. It's unlikely one of them would want to kill their employer, especially since I doubt he's paid them yet. Otherwise, we'd have to post a guard in the room and wait for whoever it was to try to kill him again. I'm not sure he would survive another attempt on his life." He glanced at her Uncle Edwin, lying in bed.

"Let us go." Together, they left the room, and Mr. Fairbanks instructed a maidservant to stay in there with him, with another posted outside the door, with strict instructions to only let Violet inside. "Now no one is getting in without your say-so," he said.

They went downstairs to the main library, where the other guests sat, huddled on the sofas and chairs. Mrs. Hemlock kept running her hand down her thigh, as if to wipe away sweat. Miss Eagle nibbled her fingernails, whilst her maidservant, Miss Hawkins, sat in a corner with her knitting, but she was making a ruin of the design, with yarn going everywhere.

The fire roared in the fireplace, having been stoked to life by one of the party, and Mr. Ludlow was pouring drinks. At their entrance, he said, "Miss Thorn, Mr. Fairbanks. How is Mr. Griffin?

Violet cast her eyes down. "I fear my uncle has passed."

There was a collective sigh in the room, and the wishes of condolence came in. Violet nodded and took a chair, touching her eyes with a handkerchief. Her hands trembled as she rested her hands on her knees and looked around the room. "Thank you. It appears my uncle went to the attic and had an accident. I think he must have tripped and fell, hurting himself."

"What a tragedy," Miss Eagle said, her eyes serious. Her maid sat quietly.

Mrs. Hemlock shook her head. Mr. Ludlow said, "I'm sorry for your loss. He was a good man."

Mrs. Hemlock snorted. "Oh, please, don't pretend like you actually liked the fellow. And once he revealed there was money to be had, you probably plotted from that moment on how to kill him. You were likely jealous that he was so rich and benevolent, he didn't even need the money from his little bet, but I bet all that money would help you. I bet you're in debt."

Mr. Ludlow glared at her. "I wonder, how did your husband die, Mrs. Hemlock? Did you poison him?"

"Hah. No. But never mind me. I think you killed Mr. Griffin. He was just a source of money to you, wasn't he? We all knew it. You made that very clear when you asked earlier what would happen if anything happened to the rest of us. Now you're probably wondering if you'll still get your money."

Violet cleared her throat. "These little games have gone far enough. One of the people in this room killed my uncle." She looked at each of them in turn. "And what's more, I know how they did it."

Mrs. Hemlock stared. Mr. Fairbanks's mouth hung open, whilst Miss Eagle had frozen in her seat. Mr. Ludlow had paused, and the decanter of port he held was beginning to hang dangerously low.

Violet swallowed. "When we came here, my uncle told us all of a little bet he'd made with his friend at their club. What he didn't share is that he feared for his life. From one of you."

The others all shot each other darting little looks. Violet said, "He's been receiving threatening notes for weeks now and has felt like someone had been watching him. We've played around with the idea of the ghost of the previous owner's lover, and I'd even thought I'd seen her."

Miss Eagle uttered a noise in her throat. "I knew it. She is stalking the halls. There is a ghost."

Mrs. Hemlock shot her a dirty look. "I saw the woman too, as did Miss Thorn. But it's clear it is a real person. Ghosts simply don't exist."

"I almost fell victim to it," Violet said. "When we had split off into pairs, my uncle and I kept together, but we became separated. When I went to look for him, a suit of armor fell in front of me and scared me. I'm surprised none of you heard it."

The others looked at each other.

"We heard a noise but didn't investigate. But we didn't stay together the whole time," Mrs. Hemlock said, glancing at Mr. Ludlow. "So who could have done it? And don't say it was a ghost."

Violet shook her head. "It wasn't. It was a trick. The suit was attached to a piece of string. I know who did that prank."

"But what about the lady's curse and the threat?" Miss Eagle asked, interrupting. "You all went to the attic at midnight, where the lady killed herself."

"Yes. But not all of us were there." Mrs. Hemlock said, looking at her.

"I was resting in my room asleep." Miss Eagle said. "And I don't like your tone."

Mrs. Hemlock simpered. "Funny, since we had Mr. Ludlow and Miss Thorn look for you to check on you and they said your room was empty."

"It wasn't. I was there." Miss Eagle turned red. "He might not've seen me, as I was…" She mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I was using the chamber pot behind the screen in my room. I don't like it when people talk to me whilst I'm occupied in that way," she said, her face redder.

The men, having some delicacy, politely looked away, whilst Mrs. Hemlock smiled.

Violet rested her hand on the arm of the sofa. "But when we'd gone inside the attic and found my uncle, he had just been attacked. There was no one else there."

"You see, it was the ghost," Miss Eagle said.

"No, it wasn't. It wasn't until Mr. Fairbanks and I found a secret passage that we realized whoever was behind this must have known about them too. We all knew they existed, thanks to my uncle's trick earlier this evening, but not everyone in our party knows where the passages are. But one of the guests here tonight used it to sneak away and attack my uncle."

"Who?" Mrs. Hemlock asked.

"Yes, tell us," Mr. Ludlow said.

"Was it a person who needed money?" Violet asked. "My uncle teased you when we first met, Mr. Ludlow, for coming from the bookmaker's, and noting your pocket watch was missing. You've been asking about the prize money since the start of the evening. We all know you require funds."

Mrs. Hemlock sniffed, a smile on her face.

Mr. Ludlow frowned. "Maybe it was you, Mrs. Hemlock. We all know you've been throwing yourself at all the men here. You've been making yourself out to be some kind of seductress. How do we know you didn't make some sort of proposal to old Mr. Griffin and he refused you?"

Mrs. Hemlock's eyes blazed. "And yet I didn't throw myself at you, Mr. Ludlow. Jealous?"

They faced one another.

"What about Mr. Fairbanks?" Miss Eagle asked. "He's been here quiet the whole time. I suspected him from the start. No one could be that charming. I'm sure he's hiding something."

He shook his head. "You've got it all wrong."

"He didn't do it," Violet said. "The person who did knew the house. They knew there was a secret passageway because they had come to know the place as a child. It was easy for them to slip away and use the passage connected to their room, go up the stairs, and attack my uncle.

"All they needed to do was slip back down and enter the main stairwell, as if they were going up to see what the commotion was. In the confusion, we wouldn't have noticed, especially when we needed to get my uncle help. You did it. You attacked my uncle."

"That's a lie!" Miss Eagle sat up in her chair. "I liked him."

"Why did you want to retire early if you were so scared of ghosts? Even I could tell your little faint was fake. You give fainting women a bad name." Mrs. Hemlock tutted.

Mr. Fairbanks and Mr. Ludlow looked at her. Miss Eagle shook her head, her blonde ringlets swinging around her head prettily. Miss Hawkins gaped as Miss Eagle said, "You all just don't understand."

"My uncle isn't really dead," said Violet. "You hurt him, but he's resting now. I have no doubt that when he wakes, he will point the finger at you as an attempted murderess."

Miss Eagle's face contorted as she sputtered, "You're wrong. You're all wrong. This was just a little game, but he's playing games. He's making light of her death." She fingered the locket around her neck. She stood and trailed her fingers along the bookcases. "I always liked this place. Even when it had its sad times. It was a wonderful place to run and hide, and pretend there were ghosts."

"So you attacked him. But why?" Mrs. Hemlock asked. "What did Mr. Griffin ever do to you?"

"You're wrong. It wasn't me, it was the ghost." She pointed at something over Violet's shoulder and screamed.

Everyone turned to look, but there was no one there. Their heads whipped back around to see her, but she had disappeared, with part of the wall closing.

"Look, she's running away. She's trying to escape." Mr. Fairbanks pointed at the wall.

"Not a chance. I love a good hunt." Mr. Ludlow took up the chase, just as the bookshelf door to a secret passage closed. He felt along the wall but couldn't find the opening. He cursed.

"I notice you didn't go after her. You're not a very good maid, are you?" Mrs. Hemlock said.

Miss Hawkins lowered her knitting. "No. She only hired me to pretend to be her maid and chaperone for this party. I was between jobs, so I accepted. But I don't like none of this. It's not right, all this running around and scaring each other. She said it'd be a laugh to dress her up and give you all a fright. But I don't hold with her attacking the old man, and I didn't know she'd done it, either. He was nice. I'm sorry," she told Violet.

"Where would she go? Would she hide?"

"No, not with the rain washing the roads out. She'd take a horse, most likely."

"Find her," Violet said.

Mr. Ludlow dashed from the room.

"How did you know?" Mrs. Hemlock asked.

"It was something she said at the beginning. When we first met, she mentioned knowing the house from before and having been here. And we know from their trick earlier tonight that Miss Eagle knew at least one of the secret passages. When we found my uncle, I knew it had to have been someone with prior knowledge of the house. The rest of us are new to this place. None of us knew about exactly where the secret passages were located. Mr. Fairbanks and I realized that's how she must have escaped from her room to the attic without being seen, and again when we found my uncle."

"Hmph. You're smarter than you look."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Violet hurried to the foyer to make her way outside to the stables, then paused.

"What is it?" Mrs. Hemlock asked, a pace behind her.

"My uncle. I was silly and told Miss Eagle that he was alive and well. What if she went after him again?"

"If only we knew where the secret passage from the study leads."

Violet was moving, hurrying to the stairs, picking up her purple skirts as she ran. She dashed up the stairwell with Mrs. Hemlock on her trail, crossing the hall to see her uncle's room open, and a manservant lying on the floor, unconscious. A silver candlestick was on the floor by his head. Her heart in her throat, Violet dashed inside and nearly tripped over the unconscious body of a maid before she spied Miss Eagle with a pillow in her hands, holding it over her uncle's face.

Violet lunged at her and leapt onto the bed, crashing into them both. She crashed into Miss Eagle and they tumbled to the floor, whilst her uncle slipped off the bed and fell.

Violet saw Miss Eagle cry out in anger and throw the pillow away, clawing at her face. Her long nails dragged against her cheek and neck, tangling in her hair. "Stop!"

Miss Eagle grunted as Violet punched her in the face and she rocked back. Violet's hand got tangled in the necklace at her throat and she wrenched her hand free, tearing the locket from Miss Eagle's neck in the process.

"No!" Miss Eagle ignored her bleeding nose and scrambled for it, lunging and clawing at Violet.

Violet held it away. "Why is this necklace so precious to you? Why would you try to kill my uncle a second time?"

The was the click of a revolver loading into place, and the women froze. "Answer her, Miss Eagle, and be quick about it," came Mr. Fairbanks's voice.

Violet stared at her. She didn't dare look at Mr. Fairbanks.

"The locket," whimpered Miss Eagle. "It's mine. It's…"

Violet clicked open the locket. Inside was a portrait of a young woman. "Why, it's…" Her blood ran cold. "It's the woman. The ghost."

"My older sister. It's all I have left of her," Miss Eagle said thickly. She wiped her bloody nose on her sleeve.

Violet stared at the miniature portrait. "I've been seeing this woman all evening."

"No, you've been seeing me . Dressed up as her."

"But why? This goes farther than a joke."

Miss Eagle hung her head. "My sister and I are—were—Romani. But no one wants to hear about that. People dismiss us, call us nasty things. When we were children, our mother took us away from our people so we'd have a better life, even if it meant forsaking our community. She worked in the kitchens here but never married a great man of business. I've worked all my life." She sighed. "I was working at a party when I heard your uncle talk about her death and his bet with old Conway like a great joke, as if she were a thing to be laughed at. But she was a person, and she was everything to me. I couldn't bear to see her memory be the butt of jokes like that, so I got an idea. I'd steal some clothing from the lady of the house, dress up as a debutante, and make your uncle's acquaintance, then bring the topic around to ghosts and spirits. He'd invite me around for sure, and he did."

"You intended to kill him?"

"No. Not at first. He's old. I thought he'd scare easy. But he saw me and when you revealed he was still alive, I knew that as a retired magistrate, he could send me to hang. I couldn't have that. All I wanted was for him to have a great scare and be so afraid, he'd lose his bet with Conway and spread the story of the curse and the rumors as truth. So that my sister's name would live on in tones of respect, instead of derision."

Violet grimaced. All this for the sake of appearances. She knew that a woman's reputation was everything, but… "Still, you attacked him in the attic and left him for dead. You took chances on my uncle's health. You tried to kill him."

"Twice," Mrs. Hemlock said from the doorway.

"They showed no kindness to my sister or her memory, so why should they get any better? They don't deserve it," Miss Eagle said.

Mr. Ludlow and Mrs. Hemlock apprehended Miss Eagle and tied her hands behind her back. Mrs. Hemlock said, "I never liked you. There was always something off about you. Too sweet to be real."

Miss Eagle scowled at her.

With the help from the servants, Violet gently got her uncle back to bed. He woke up a short time later and did indeed accuse Miss Eagle of dressing up like the fortuneteller and attacking him.

Once the rains stopped and the road cleared, Miss Eagle was taken away by the local constable and magistrate for questioning. She held the locket Violet had returned in her hands, squeezing it tightly.

Violet took a final look at her being led away and let out a shuddering breath. "I'm glad that's over."

Mrs. Hemlock agreed and let out a yawn. "I agree. I could use a drink, but actually, all I want is sleep. But I feel so awake from all the excitement, I couldn't sleep a wink. I'd be afraid I'd see that woman from the attic wandering around everywhere, or armor falling. Say, how did you know the armor was a trick?"

Violet looked at Mr. Fairbanks, who smiled at her.

"After she told me of how her uncle left her in the library, and her theory about the armor and the string, I looked closer and found a bit of string tied tightly to the legs. One sharp pull and the whole set would come crashing down. It'd scare anyone half to death. I found some of that same string in Mr. Griffin's room."

"So he did it?"

Violet nodded. "He always did like a practical joke."

"Ugh. That's it. I'm heading to bed." Mrs. Hemlock gave Mr. Ludlow a flirtatious smile and went up the stairs to her room.

Mr. Ludlow brightened and made some polite noises before going up after her.

Violet looked up to see Mr. Fairbanks smiling at her. "You're a bright young thing. Quick mind. I like that in a woman."

"And here I believed you thought me too thorny and taciturn to be likable," she said.

"Maybe I like thorny and taciturn. I find you have… certain attractions." He came up to her.

Their eyes met, and her heart began to pound. His eyes bore into hers and he said, "Forgive me for my behavior, Miss Thorn, but I am going to kiss you now."

"Why?"

"Because you would not expect me to. And because I suspect that despite your unfortunate surname, you truly are a beautiful flower and a very rare one at that." He bent and kissed her.

Violet's eyes closed as she felt his soft lips grace hers. His touch was warm and gentle, and she felt herself moved by the kiss as his hands found their way around her waist and down the small of her back, pulling her closer.

"Ahem," a voice said loudly.

Violet and Mr. Fairbanks sprang apart. She blushed furiously as he grunted with displeasure. "Yes, what is it?"

"Thought you might like to know that the rain has cleared. Carriages will be ready soon." the manservant said.

Mr. Fairbanks looked down at Violet, his hand around hers. "Thank you. We'll be ready presently."

Once her uncle had been tended to by the local doctor and pronounced well enough to travel, the three of them sat with Mrs. Hemlock and Mr. Ludlow in a carriage as the sun broke through the clouds, shining golden rays on the damp ground.

"I'm glad to be rid of this place. Bet or no bet, I'm never coming back," her uncle said.

"I'm glad too. I've had enough of ghost stories. Even though ghosts don't exist, they do send a chill down one's spine, eh?" Mr. Fairbanks winked at Violet.

She agreed and looked out the window. The rain had begun to fall again, pattering against the windows and ground until it looked as muddy as a lake. But as they drove from the manor house, a streak of lightning flashed, casting light over the shadowy figure of a woman watching from the attic windows.

The End