Haunting Secrets

Three

"Neither you or your maid are allowed in the East Wing. Under no circumstances should you wander to that side of the manor. If you're found there, Mistress Bethany will dispatch you home with all haste. Do you understand, Miss Fawson?"

Victoria's mouth fell agape. The Maitlands were hiding something. Determination to find out what surged like fire in her veins—she was her father's daughter after all—she'd search the household from top to bottom after everyone retired.

Silently cursing her thoughts, she shook them from her mind. What was she thinking? Sneaking around after dark would be the best way for Bethany Maitland to boot Victoria out before she found out what happened to her father.

Victoria nodded. "I understand perfectly." She tapped her chin with a finger. "But I fear curiosity is getting the better of me, and I cannot help but wonder what's in the East Wing."

"It's the rules of the house set by the Master, himself. He's most adamant about people going there. I, for one, would like to keep my position, which is why I don't break the rules." The servant slid closer, her voice still hushed. "It's rumored there is a ghost haunting that section of the manor. A few months back a maid ventured into the East Wing and..." Mrs. White's gaze flickered between Victoria and Francine. "Disappeared."

Francine hitched a breath and covered her mouth, muttering something in French.

Victoria fought the urge to laugh. The attempt to frighten them was so blatant not a single hair rose on her arm. "Thank you for the warning. I'll be certain not to wander that way." She folded her hands. "But why would a ghost haunt the East Wing?"

"With good reason," Mrs. White continued. "The late Master of Maitland Manor, the eldest brother, Justin, perished in a fire there. Some believe his spirit still remains."

Victoria's breath caught, a prickle of awareness touching her neck. Mrs. White's wide eyes and the excitement in her voice led Victoria to assume the middle-aged woman was one of the believers.

Impossible.

"What keeps him here?" Victoria asked.

"His music."

Victoria arched an eyebrow. "Music?"

"Yes. Sometimes late at night, you can hear him playing the organ. Yet, there isn't an organ in any of the rooms." Mrs. White shook her head, her salt and pepper bun bobbing. "The poor man died so young and before he finished any of his requiems."

"What age was he when he passed on?"

"He hadn't reached his thirty-second year, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that is unfortunate." Thoughts of her own mother's untimely demise floated through her head. Her mother died giving birth to Victoria's younger brother, and they both died that day.

Mrs. White hurried to the door. "I have a few errands to run now. Feel free to make yourself at home. Look around the estate and familiarize yourself with everything." She paused and wagged her finger at Victoria. "Except for the East Wing."

"I will. Thank you again for the warning."

The older woman swept out the door, Victoria had the impression Mrs. White was always in a rush. Victoria rubbed her forehead. Strange. Everything, so far since she'd arrived, had been very strange.

Francine closed the door, leaned against it, and released a heavy sigh. "Oh, my. Do you really think—"

"No, I don't," Victoria said firmly. "Francine, you can't possibly believe in ghosts."