General Fiction posted November 14, 2024 Chapters:  ...11 12 -13- 14... 


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A visit to the mansion uncovers the mysteries

A chapter in the book Miracles

Miracles - chap 13

by Begin Again




Background
The powerful Judge Doyle vows revenge against those who brought him down. As his reach extends beyond the prison walls, a grieving Eleanor, armed with ghostly powers, is ready for battle.
 
"Watch your step, everyone, especially you, Jenna," Danni cautioned, steadying herself on the cracked marble entrance.

"Okay, Danni, you can stop being the Mother Hen. I'm pregnant, not blind. I see the vines and debris on the steps," Jenna shot back.

"Ouch! Forgive me for putting myself out there."

"Ladies, we're here to celebrate, not squabble like children." Eleanor turned to Rebecca. "Would you like the honor of entering your home first?"

Rebecca hesitated, glaring at the loose shutters, shattered glass, and tangled foliage choking the house's exterior. She shuddered and shook her head. "That's okay, Eleanor. You go first. I'm not sure what to expect, but I want no part of it if it's like this."

Eleanor chuckled. "Where's your sense of adventure?" She reached for the doorknob and felt it turn under her hand. Miriam was here —

She felt a chilly brush against her arm.

Are you here to welcome us or warn us? Eleanor wondered.

She felt a slight tug forward, and the door swung open, revealing a pristine world within. Although aged, the floors gleamed from polishing, and the furnishings were impeccably preserved. It was as if the house had been waiting, watching over these treasures, hidden away and untouched by time.

They entered slowly and stared in awe. Jenna, being an art connoisseur, gasped as her gaze landed on a painting just inside the entryway. "That — that can't be," she murmured, stepping closer. "Mother, it's an original Antonio Mancini!"

Eleanor joined her, a smile of recognition forming as she took in the familiar brushstrokes. "A fine replica, perhaps," she offered lightly, trying not to reveal what she already knew.

Jenna shook her head emphatically. "Replica?" She pointed at the signature without touching the artwork for fear of harming the piece. "It's — it's signed. Mancini painted this himself. It's worth a fortune!"

"Indeed, it is." A brush against her arm told Eleanor that Miriam was nearby and ready to brag. "It's marvelous, isn't it?"

"Rebecca — Danni, come look at this painting. It's unbelievable." Jenna called to the others, bubbling with excitement.

Rebecca, watching from a few steps behind, shrugged. "Just an old guy," she said dismissively. "Maybe a vineyard worker caught the artist's eye. Not my style."
 
Miriam's invisible presence drifted beside Eleanor. "Thank you for bringing her here, but I don't think she feels the love that her ancestors knew when they lived here," she murmured. Eleanor sensed her sorrow.

As the trio set off to learn more about the mansion, Eleanor felt Miriam's presence tugging her to go outside. She glanced as the girls climbed the sweeping staircase leading them upstairs and then slipped out to the front steps.

"I still sense your sorrow, and something leads me to believe it's not merely Rebecca's response to your home. If you'd like, I'm more than willing to listen."

Miriam sighed, and Eleanor could tell that whatever she would share wouldn't be easy.
 
"Come." Miriam smiled. "Willow is grazing near my favorite spot. Do you mind walking near the lake? It's not far, just beyond the lilac hedge."

"Lead the way."

Eleanor was surprised that an inlet of the lake was so close to the front of the house, maybe two hundred feet, after clearing the overgrown lilacs. Milo, busy plucking worms from the soil, stopped as they approached, puffed up his chest, and greeted the women with a boastful crow. Miriam chuckled and dug deep in her pocket. She scattered a handful of corn and murmured to him, "Yes. Milo, we have company."

Continuing a few more feet, Willow raised his head, braying as if to say hello. Miriam rubbed between his ears as he nuzzled her in search of an apple or a carrot. "Sorry, Willow. I'll bring you one soon, I promise."

She waved her hand toward a bench carved from a log. "Shall we sit?"

Eleanor followed and took her place on the log bench. "What a beautiful view. I bet this is stunning when the moon reflects on the water at night."

Miriam's eyes shifted to the men on the cliff, knowing what they would find but wondering if Eleanor had made that connection, too. The two sat silently, waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Miriam stood and walked over to Willow, scratching his back. When she spoke, her voice quivered.
"It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, Eleanor. I was finally marrying Trevor. I'd despised him when my parents agreed to send me to America to wed him, forcing me to leave my child behind."

'Your child? Would that be Angela?"

Miriam's eyes clouded, and she buried her face in Willow's side. "Yes, my only child and Rebecca's mom."

"Why would your parents do such a hurtful thing, separating their daughter from her child? I don't understand."

"Their vineyard was failing and in need of repair. Trevor offered them the money, not as a loan, but as a gift. In return, I would go to America, where he could introduce me to society, and we would wed."

"So, in return for a hefty financial agreement, he forced you to leave your child behind and marry him? What kind of man would do that? You must have been heartbroken."

"To leave Angela for even a day was more than I could do, but I had no choice. Papa said I had to go, and his word was law. Mama and I wept, but it made no difference. The last time I saw her was as the ship pulled out of the harbor. She remained there with Angela until the ship disappeared."

Miriam rejoined Eleanor on the bench, reaching out for her hand. "Trevor was a wonderful man. We got to know each other on the trip across the Atlantic, and I grew comfortable around him. One night, as we stood on deck beneath the stars, he took my hand, brushing his lips against my fingertips. It was then that he promised to bring Angela to live with us once we were married."

"Did you believe that he would?"

"Not at first, but as our journey progressed, I listened to his dreams of the vineyard and how we would celebrate life together. His dreams became mine, and I could see it all.

"Our wedding was beyond any dreams I could have imagined. My dress —" she paused, biting her lip. "Trevor surprised me and ordered it. When I saw it, I wanted to marry him that very second. No one had ever done something so special just for me. I knew we were meant to be together."

"So what happened? What made Trevor's friends turn against you?"

"Cornelius Webb. He had other plans. He wanted our land and saw Trevor as an obstacle. Trevor refused to relinquish his dream. So, the opportunity presented itself on our wedding day, and he struck."

Eleanor felt a chill run down her spine. "What did he do?"

"After the ceremony, we all gathered in the parlor to toast our future. Cornelius was there, acting as though he celebrated our union. He lifted his glass to the others, smiling as he proposed a toast to our happiness. But he'd laced Trevor's drink with poison." Miriam's voice faltered. "Within minutes, Trevor collapsed. He was gone before I even knew what was happening."

Eleanor's hand went to her mouth, horrified. "And Cornelius —?"

Miriam's voice grew colder, sharper as if seething from beyond the grave. "He turned to me as Trevor lay dying, his face twisted in feigned shock. He pointed his finger at me and cried out to the crowd that he had witnessed me poisoning my husband."

Eleanor's heart clenched as the depth of Cornelius's cruelty became clear. "And the townsfolk believed him?"

"They did," Miriam said, her voice hollow with bitterness. "The people had known Cornelius all their lives, trusted him. They rallied around his lie, convinced I was a madwoman driven by greed. I'd arrived from Italy with nothing but a suitcase.

"No one questioned his story; no one asked me why I would kill the man I'd just married." Her voice cracked, filled with the rawness of betrayal. "The mob dragged me from the house in my wedding dress and took me to the old oak tree. There, they hanged me, accusing me of murder."

Eleanor felt tears sting her eyes, a helpless anger tightening in her chest. "Miriam, they didn't allow you to defend yourself."

"No," Miriam replied, her voice softening with a weariness that centuries had not eased. "I died knowing that Cornelius would walk free, that he would claim the land and destroy the legacy Trevor and I had dreamed of building together." She paused, the hope in her voice fragile. "But I stayed, Eleanor. I stayed because I knew that one day, someone from my family would return to set things right."

Eleanor glanced back at the house, her heart aching for the young bride who had lost everything in a single, tragic day. "I don't have the words to ease your pain, Miriam. I am so sorry."

"Trevor didn't know that Cornelius would murder both of us, but he was a wise man. He'd drawn up a paper stating that the land would never be sold until a living heir rightfully inherited the land. Then it would be theirs to do as they saw fit."

"Rebecca is here now, Miriam. She may not understand yet, but given time, she will. You're a part of her, and she'll uncover the truth in time."

A sigh, almost a whisper, echoed around her. "Help her see, Eleanor. Help her reclaim what was stolen from us. Only then can I find peace."

*****

As Eleanor and Miriam returned to the house, an unsettling feeling prickled at the edge of her mind.
"Miriam —" Eleanor ventured cautiously. "There's someone else here, isn't there?"

"No one you need to worry about," Miriam replied, her voice cold and unyielding. "This is my family's land, Eleanor. Some secrets are mine to keep."

Eleanor studied the spectral figure beside her, noting Miriam's defensive posture. "Whoever it is, they feel lost, and in pain. I can sense it. You're keeping them hidden."

A chill swept through the air, and Eleanor felt a faint memory ripple — a man's shadowed figure. She closed her eyes, trying to connect with the presence she sensed mentally, but a wall of fog, an impenetrable barrier, blocked her from doing so.

Before she could ask any more questions, she realized Miriam was gone.
 
*****

Studying a small sculpture, Jenna carefully ran her fingers over the intricate piece. "Rebecca, some of these pieces are so exquisite that I find it impossible to believe they aren't real. The family that lived here was very wealthy and art-oriented. I get shivers with each one I find. Such a collection is mind-blowing."

"And so cared for." Danni looked around the room. "How long has it been since someone left this place?" She turned to Jenna and Rebecca. "It's spotless."

They walked deeper into the mansion, discovering room after room filled with antiques and art and homey pieces, simple things that a peasant family might have. The furniture was spotless, not a speck of dust. It was as if the house had been frozen in time, waiting for someone to return.

Rebecca shrugged. "It's like someone has been living here."

"You're right. It's as if someone wanted to make sure the house was kept up until its true heir returned." Eleanor didn't elaborate further, but a knowing look passed between her and Danni.

Jenna wrinkled her nose. "I'm still not convinced. It feels like —" she paused, "I don't know, like someone is watching us."

Rebecca laughed softly, but her voice held a noticeable trace of unease. "You guys are talking like you believe in ghosts. Now it's you, not the house, that's giving me the creeps."

Jenna, Danni, and Eleanor glanced at each other quickly before they entered a large sitting room with towering bookshelves and an old fireplace.

Danni ran her fingers across the mahogany mantel, admiring the craftsmanship. "Can't you imagine being snuggled up with a warm blanket on a cold night, warming your toes in front of the fire, Rebecca?"

Jenna chimed, "And at Christmas, you can hang stockings from the mantel, and the largest tree imaginable will stand near the staircase. We can wrap fresh garland around the banister."

"Don't forget the poinsettias and the aroma of Christmas cookies baking in the kitchen."

"Now you're getting the spirit, Rebecca." Danni laughed. Noticing a set of framed photographs on the mantel, she picked one up. "This is strange. These pictures aren't black and white like the others."

Jenna took the frame from Danni's hand. "You're right. This picture isn't old like the others." It was a photograph of a young woman sitting on the mansion's steps, smiling at the camera. On the back of the picture, written in elegant cursive, was a name — Alyssa.

Excited, Danni looked at the picture again. "Rebecca, this woman looks like you."

Rebecca stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied the photo. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name. "Alyssa. Do you think it's a picture of my sister?"

Danni looked up at the others, wide-eyed. "The resemblance is uncanny."

Before Rebecca could answer, Eleanor, who had been quiet until now, walked over to the photo, her face paling as she recognized the woman in the photograph. Her eyes flicked back to Rebecca, but she said nothing.

Moving toward the window, she glanced outside toward the cliffs where the men were working. In a low voice, she said, "I — I know who she is."

The others turned to Eleanor, surprised by her response. Rebecca questioned her, "What do you mean? You know her? Are you saying you knew my sister?"

Eleanor hesitated, her eyes betraying a deep, unreadable emotion. Before she could speak, her phone buzzed. She reached for it quickly, clearly relieved to have a distraction from the tension hanging in the air.

"Yes, this is Eleanor."

Her face shifted from confusion to shock as she listened, her hand gripping the phone tightly. She disconnected the line and turned to face the girls. Her voice was barely audible. "They found Matthew's car in the lake, and there's a body inside. They haven't identified it yet."

Danni and Jenna screamed, clinging to each other. "It can't be him. It can't be."

Still holding the picture, Eleanor looked toward the cliffs again. "Garth is on his way. Maybe he'll have news."

Sobbing, Jenna collapsed to the floor. "Dear God, tell me it's not Matthew."

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Recognized


Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
William - highly skilled crook
Miriam - a spirit from days gone by
Phillip Henderson - Attorney - Wills and Trusts
Bruiser - the bouncer at the Hideway
Tony - the bartender
Crystal - the cocktail waitress
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
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