Despite his headache, Benjy somehow managed to look both relieved and disappointed at the news of his lodging in the annex, An’gel was amused to see. She didn’t blame him. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to any ghostly visits, though she was curious to see what would happen. She might well want a room in the annex herself if things got too spooky in the house, she reckoned.
She and Dickce rose from the table and followed Mary Turner into the hall. Henry Howard and Benjy disappeared into the kitchen, where they would collect Peanut and Endora before heading on to the annex behind the house.
An’gel ran her hand along the banister rail as she climbed the stairs beside Mary Turner. Dickce trailed behind. An’gel glanced up and was relieved not to see an odd shadow ahead of them. She stepped into the upstairs hall and followed her young hostess to the front bedroom on the right. She waited until Mary Turner opened the door, then stepped inside.
The room had earned its name because of its furnishings and decor. As An’gel recalled it, one of Mary Turner’s ancestors had fitted out the room for his youngest sister, who had a passion for all things French. All the furniture had been imported from France at considerable cost not long before the Civil War started, and a down-on-her-luck Frenchwoman from New Orleans had supervised the decoration. An’gel felt she stepped into the past when she walked into this room.
The bed, made of French walnut, had a headboard and footboard with engraved and studded brass panels. The finials were of bronze. The large oak wardrobe had a similar design to that of the engraved bed panels. The commode or chest of drawers that stood beneath the west-facing window was, to An’gel, the prize piece of the collection. Made of ebony with brass and tortoiseshell inlaid marquetry, it was stunning. An’gel also knew that it was valuable, and should Mary Turner ever consider selling it, she could realize a healthy price for it.
There were a few family pictures on the walls, and objects on various surfaces that gave the room a definitely feminine touch. Some of the objects, like a pair of blue Opaline crystal Baccarat vases and an eighteenth-century Meissen shepherdess, had been in the family for generations, An’gel knew.
Her bags stood on the floor near the foot of the bed. An’gel turned to Mary Turner and gave her a quick hug. “I do love this room. Thank you again.”
“It’s the most beautiful room in the house,” Dickce said, not without envy.
“I’m so pleased you’re happy with it.” Mary Turner paused, and An’gel thought she looked uncomfortable. “I have to be honest with you, though.”
“About what, my dear?” An’gel asked.
“This room,” Mary Turner said.
When she didn’t continue, An’gel said, “Come on now. Out with it. What is it you’re afraid to tell me?”
Mary Turner took a deep breath and let it out. “This is the room where things keep moving around. I come in here at least once a day, and every time, something has moved.”
CHAPTER 6
An’gel felt an odd flutter in her stomach at Mary Turner’s words. “Is this the only room where things are moved around?”
“Well, no,” Mary Turner replied. “It’s happened a couple of times in other bedrooms and in the library and the front parlor.”
“More often in here, though?” Dickce moved to stand beside An’gel as they both regarded their young hostess.
Mary Turner nodded. “Pretty much every day. I’m sorry, I really wasn’t thinking clearly about this. I should have told you before bringing you up here. If you’d rather be in another room or out in the annex, I understand.”
An’gel considered it for a moment. What would she do if she woke up during the night and found objects being moved around the room? Her heart was strong, despite her age, but was it strong enough for that?
“How about if I stay in here with you?” Dickce said.
An’gel glanced at her sister. Beneath the determination she read in Dickce’s expression, she also saw unease. She knew Dickce would fulfill her offer if requested, but she didn’t want her sister to feel she had to. “No, that’s not necessary. I will stay here on my own.”
“We brought mace,” Dickce added. “In case the spirits turn out to be human, they’ll get a face full of it. Then a bonk on the head with the big flashlights we also brought.”
Mary Turner smiled. “I think you’ll both be okay. I’ve been checking this room last thing at night and first thing in the morning, and only once did I find something—one of the Baccarat vases, actually—moved during the night. The activity seems to happen during the day.”
“That’s interesting,” An’gel said. “That inclines me to think that human hands are doing it. Someone sneaking in during the day to do these things but without access at night.”
“Who has access during the day?” Dickce said. “Besides you, Henry Howard, and Marcelline.”
“When we’re not closed, the front door is unlocked all the time until ten p.m. so guests can come and go, and for new arrivals to come check in.” Mary Turner frowned. “We used to always keep it locked when we closed down for our holiday, but I guess we haven’t been vigilant about it. We leave it unlocked so often it’s hard to remember to lock it. We do lock the doors at night, though.”
“I think it would be a good idea, until we get this situation sorted out,” An’gel said, “to make sure the front and back doors and all the windows are kept locked at all times. The more difficult you make it for whoever is behind all this, the sooner we can figure it out.”
“Unless that person has a key,” Dickce said. “Have you ever had the locks on the doors changed?”
Mary Turner looked blank for a moment. “I think my parents did that when they started the bed-and-breakfast, because the locks were so old-fashioned. That was a few years before I was born. I know Henry Howard and I haven’t had them changed since we took over.”
“There’s no telling then how many keys could have been lost or given out over the years. I think it’s likely that the perpetrator of these manifestations has a key and comes and goes how he likes.” An’gel actually felt better now that they knew this because it made human agency all the more likely.
“We’ll get the locks changed tomorrow,” Mary Turner said. “We should have thought of this before now. I feel pretty stupid, frankly.”
Dickce patted the young woman’s arm. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, my dear. We all get comfortable in our routines and don’t always think how those routines could be working to our disadvantage. You know what to do now.”
“Thanks to you two,” Mary Turner said. “I feel better already.” She gave Dickce a quick peck on the cheek. “Let me show you to your room now, and Miss An’gel can get settled and rest a little.” She turned and headed out of the room, and Dickce, after a last glance at An’gel, followed her.
An’gel stood in place for a moment, then bestirred herself to close the door. Such simple things, keys, she thought. It would be interesting to see what happened after new locks were installed. An’gel was willing to bet the manifestations would cease abruptly. With that, she decided she wouldn’t mind at all spending the night in this room.
She looked at her suitcases, then at the bed. She really ought to unpack and hang things up, but suddenly she felt too tired. They’d had an early start this morning, and long drives always tired her. Not to mention the rather heavy lunch she had enjoyed. She elected for a brief nap over unpacking and slipped out of her dress. She laid it over the back of a chair before she pulled a nightgown from one of her bags and put it on.
The bedcoverings and linens, she noted with approval, were modern. The bedspread might look like an antique but that was as far as it went. She made herself comfortable in the bed and, not long after her head hit the pillow, dozed off.