Forbidden Secrets

  “Dirt from Mother’s and Father’s graves. It will protect you from evil,” Victoria assured her, her eyes shining.

  “I don’t need protection,” Savannah declared.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  A few weeks later Savannah walked slowly through her garden. She searched for green sprouts, any sign that the seeds she planted would flourish.

  So many soldiers had tramped through her garden, so many tired, weary soldiers trying to get home.

  Maybe I should build a fence, she thought. How can my plants grow if soldiers continue to stomp across my seeds?

  Tears stung Savannah’s eyes. She knew they had nothing to do with the state of her garden.

  I am so lonely, she thought. Victoria and I used to work together. Now I struggle alone.

  A shadow fell across the soil in front of Savannah. Another soldier, she thought. Another soldier tromping across my garden. Wearily she lifted her eyes . . . and froze at the sight of the man standing before her.

  Her heart thudded. I must be dreaming, she thought wildly. I am dreaming.

  With trembling hands she reached out to touch the dream. But the dream was warm. The dream was firm. The dream was no dream at all.

  “Tyler!” she cried. Savannah flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, Tyler! I thought you would never come back.”

  “Didn’t you get my letter?” Tyler asked.

  She leaned back until she could gaze into his blue eyes. “Yes, I got your letter.”

  The light left his eyes. “I’m sorry about Zachariah.”

  “At least you are safe,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice low. “I am safe. And I have returned for you. I love you, Savannah.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Will you marry me?”

  Savannah forgot about the garden. She forgot about the empty cotton fields. She forgot about Victoria.

  All she could think about was the deep blue of his eyes, begging her to say yes.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He grinned. “I can’t wait to show you Blackrose Manor,” he told her, his voice full of excitement.

  “Blackrose Manor?”

  “My home in the North.”

  Savannah felt a weight settle in her chest.

  “I love you, Savannah,” he said.

  I refused to follow him once, she thought. I regretted my decision for four long years. There is nothing to keep me here now. I want no more regrets in my life.

  “Tyler, I want to go with you,” Savannah said. “I truly do. But I cannot leave Victoria here alone.”

  “She will come with us. We can be happy together.” He bent his head and kissed her.

  It felt so good to touch him again. But doubts and worries flashed through her mind. I have to tell him about Victoria, Savannah thought. I have to tell him how she has changed.

  She drew away from the kiss and touched Tyler’s handsome face. His brow furrowed.

  “What’s wrong, Savannah?” he asked.

  “It’s Victoria. She’s changed—”

  “We have all changed,” he said. He held out his hand and showed her a long, jagged scar across his palm. “I did not have this when I left.”

  She covered his hand with her own, hating the thought that he had been in pain. “You’re right,” she said. “But I am worried that Victoria is losing her mind. She has some silly notion—”

  Savannah stopped. I can’t tell him Victoria thinks he is evil. It would hurt him to know my sister doesn’t trust him.

  She tried to explain. “Sometimes Victoria does strange things. But she doesn’t mean any harm.”

  “Perhaps a change will do her good. She’ll like Blackrose Manor,” he assured her. “You both will.”

  Savannah felt joy swell within her. “I can’t wait to go.”

  “Then we will leave tomorrow,” Tyler said.

  “Tomorrow,” Savannah repeated. “I will tell Victoria.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Savannah found Victoria at the small family cemetery. The black pouch was pinned to Victoria’s skirt.

  “Tyler has returned,” Victoria said in a flat voice.

  Savannah grabbed her hands. “Yes. How did you know?”

  Victoria did not take her eyes off the headstones. “I saw him.”

  Look at me, Savannah wanted to say. Look at me so you will know that everything will be all right. Look at me so I will know you are all right.

  But Victoria’s vacant gaze remained fixed on the single granite marker that bore their parents’ names. Savannah released her sister’s hands. “We are going to live with Tyler at Blackrose Manor,” Savannah said. “We will leave the devastation of the South behind. We will have food—”

  Victoria turned suddenly. “Be quiet!” she whispered harshly. “Be quiet. Listen closely. Do you not hear the wind whispering through the oak trees? Whispering the secrets, the truth?”

  Victoria’s voice dipped lower. “If we go to Blackrose Manor, one of us will be buried there before the year is out!”

  PART TWO

  Blackrose Manor Massachussetts, Spring 1865

  Chapter

  13

  Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. Harsh wind rocked the buggy.

  Savannah tightened her hold on Tyler’s arm. “Will we arrive before the storm?” she asked.

  “It’s not much farther,” Tyler told her. “I think we’ll make it.”

  Savannah glanced over her shoulder at Victoria. She sat huddled in the backseat. She clutched the black pouch pinned to her skirt so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

  Poor Victoria, Savannah thought. She is terrified. She truly believes Tyler is evil—and that one of us will die at Blackrose Manor.

  Savannah wished she could reassure Victoria. But she knew nothing she could say would make her sister feel better.

  Tyler stopped the buggy. He climbed out and opened a tall wrought iron gate.

  We’re here, Savannah thought. She leaned forward, but all she could see was the massive fence. Thorny roses climbed up the bars.

  “Look, Victoria. Have you ever seen such dark red roses? They look almost black.”

  “I don’t like this place, Savannah,” Victoria said.

  Savannah reached back and squeezed Victoria’s hand. “The storm is probably making you nervous,” she said. But she knew the storm wasn’t what was bothering her sister.

  The buggy swayed as Tyler climbed back in. He flicked the reins and guided the horse through the open gate.

  A gust of wind swept some rose petals into the buggy. One settled on Savannah’s lap. She picked up the soft petal and studied it.

  I was wrong, she thought. The roses aren’t dark red. They aren’t red at all. “I have never seen black roses,” Savannah said.

  “They grow everywhere here,” Tyler said. “The manor took its name from the roses.” He pointed forward. “There is your new home.”

  Savannah gasped. The huge manor was made of cold gray stone. Its two turrets pierced the darkening sky.

  Savannah wanted to like Blackrose Manor. But she thought the mansions in the South—with their wide porches and graceful columns—were much more welcoming.

  Tyler brought the horse to a halt. He stepped out of the buggy. A moment later he opened Savannah’s door and offered her his arm.

  They walked up the massive stone steps that led to the front door. Victoria followed.

  Tyler pulled open the thick wood door. Savannah cautiously made her way down the hall to the main room while Tyler held the door for her sister.

  Candles flickered in chandeliers hanging high above her. But they weren’t enough to light the large room.

  Savannah stared around her, trying to take in everything at once. She noticed a row of portraits along one wall. She headed toward it—then she stopped with a small cry of surprise. She pressed her hand to her throat.

  A thin woman stood in a far doorway. Her iron-gray dress matched the iron-gray hair she had pulled back int
o a tight knot.

  She was so thin that her skin appeared to be stretched tight over the bones of her face. It is like looking at a skull, Savannah thought.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Mooreland.” Tyler came up behind Savannah and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I want you to meet Savannah. As you know, we are to be married.”

  Tyler turned toward Victoria and reached for her hand. She backed away. He shrugged. “And this sweet lady is Victoria—Savannah’s sister.”

  “Why would anyone choose to live here?” Victoria whispered. “It is so cold and gloomy.”

  Savannah gave Victoria a warning look. “We’re guests here,” she said softly.

  “Not for long,” Tyler corrected her. He smiled and slipped his arm around her. “Once we are married, you will be my wife, not my guest. And Victoria will be my sister.”

  He is trying so hard to make Victoria feel at home. I wish she would give him a chance, Savannah thought.

  “I have to see after the horse and buggy. Mrs. Mooreland, please show Savannah and Victoria to their rooms.” Tyler brushed his lips over Savannah’s cheek. “I leave you in capable hands,” he murmured.

  Mrs. Mooreland didn’t say a word. She stared at Savannah. Her face grim, her eyes cold.

  Savannah grabbed Victoria’s hand—and her sister didn’t pull away. “Would you show us to our rooms, please?” she asked.

  Mrs. Mooreland narrowed her black eyes. “Very well. Follow me.”

  With efficient clicks of her heels, Mrs. Mooreland led them to a winding stone staircase.

  “This place frightens me,” Victoria said as they followed Mrs. Mooreland up the stairs.

  Savannah squeezed her sister’s hand. “We will be all right,” she promised.

  Mrs. Mooreland glanced over her bony shoulder. “Take care on the stairs. Over the years the stone has grown smooth and slippery.”

  “Thank you for the warning, Mrs. Mooreland,” Savannah replied.

  The servant merely nodded and continued up the steps.

  “Please, Savannah, let’s return to Whispering Oaks. Before it is too late,” Victoria begged.

  “Whispering Oaks is no more,” Savannah answered harshly. “You know that. Our home is here.”

  “But I can feel the evil in this house . . . lurking in the shadows,” Victoria said in a hushed voice.

  “Nonsense,” Savannah said. “We will simply add more candles to the chandeliers and chase the shadows away.”

  “I don’t think candles will make a difference,” Victoria said.

  “Everything will be all right once we get used to it,” Savannah promised. She hoped she was telling the truth.

  At the top of the stairs Mrs. Mooreland threw open a door. “One of the guest rooms.”

  “I’ll take this room,” Victoria said. She scurried into the room and closed the door.

  “She is wise to hide,” Mrs. Mooreland said.

  Savannah was taken aback by the woman’s words. The servants at Whispering Oaks would never have made a comment like that. “And where is my room?” Savannah asked firmly, ignoring the woman’s remark.

  Mrs. Mooreland crossed the hall and opened another door. “In here.”

  Savannah stepped inside. A fire burned in the hearth—but the room still felt cold and damp. Black draperies hid the windows. A black quilt covered the beds.

  I feel as though I am at a funeral, Savannah thought. Why are there no colors in this house? Why is everything so cold?

  She turned to ask Mrs. Mooreland, but stopped. She did not want the servant to know that she felt uncomfortable in Tyler’s home.

  She placed her hands on her hips and smiled. “Well, I can see that my first order of business will be to bring some color to these rooms.”

  Mrs. Mooreland didn’t reply. The sound of her raspy breathing filled the room. She moved closer to Savannah and leaned down—so she could stare directly into Savannah’s eyes.

  Savannah’s first instinct was to back away. But she forced herself to remain where she was and return Mrs. Mooreland’s stare.

  “You are not wanted here,” the housekeeper said. “Leave while you can.”

  Chapter

  14

  Savannah felt her stomach twist inside her. What a cruel thing to say, she thought. But she kept her face blank. She would not allow Mrs. Mooreland to see that her words had hurt Savannah.

  She tilted up her chin defiantly. “Thank you, Mrs. Mooreland. You may return to your other duties.”

  Without another word, the servant walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  Savannah hurried to the hearth. A low fire crackled in the wide stone fireplace. She knelt before the fire and held her hands before the orange flames.

  This house is so cold, Savannah thought. Her bones felt as if they had frozen inside her.

  I expected Tyler’s home to be like Whispering Oaks before the war, she thought sadly. A happy place, filled with warmth and color and gaiety.

  She shuddered. And I expected a warm welcome. Why was Mrs. Mooreland so unkind? Why didn’t Lucy come downstairs to meet us?

  Tyler had told Savannah that Lucy was like a little sister to him. His parents became her guardians when Lucy’s parents were killed. Now Tyler felt responsible for the girl.

  Savannah shivered. I must find Tyler, she thought as she stood. I must talk with him. Something isn’t right here.

  She walked out of her room. Candles flickered in chandeliers overhead. She heard something scrape across stone. Then she heard a crash from the first floor.

  She rushed to the staircase and took the slippery stairs as quickly as she dared. Halfway down she saw something so frightening that she had to press her hands against her mouth to keep from screaming.

  What is he doing? What is Tyler doing?

  Tyler paced back and forth across the main room. He held a large butcher knife high in his hand. His face was twisted in fury.

  “Stop staring at me!” he snarled. “Stop staring at me or I will cut your eyes out!”

  Chapter

  15

  Tyler lifted one of the portraits off the wall and threw it down. He attacked it with the butcher knife, stabbing it over and over.

  Savannah stood frozen halfway down the stairs. She gathered her courage. “Tyler?” she called gently.

  He stopped, his hand in midair, the knife poised above the portrait. Savannah felt her heart quicken as he turned, his eyes filled with pain.

  “They don’t understand, Savannah,” he moaned. “They don’t understand that I did what I had to do during the war.”

  Savannah hurried down the rest of the stairs. She gazed at the portraits that still lined the wall. Portraits of Tyler’s ancestors.

  “It doesn’t matter if they understand,” she said. She took a few steps toward Tyler. “I understand.”

  “You can’t understand,” Tyler insisted. “There was so much killing . . . so much blood. You would hate me if you knew the things I’ve done.”

  “I could never hate you,” Savannah said. “During the war we all did what we had to do to survive.” She inched closer. “But now the war is over.”

  The knife clattered to the floor. Tyler jerked her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “I never want to see blood again,” he said in a shaky voice.

  Savannah stroked his black hair away from his forehead. “Victoria and I had to eat worms,” she told him, hoping to make him smile.

  He laughed. Savannah could feel his chest shaking under his shirt.

  She tilted her face and gazed into his blue eyes. “Together we can put the war behind us,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Together we can.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers. Savannah returned his kiss eagerly. I love him so much, she thought. He is all I have ever wanted.

  Savannah heard a high-pitched shriek. She jerked away from Tyler.

  The shrill cry came again.

  It took Savannah a moment to realize the so
und was Victoria screaming.

  Chapter

  16

  Savannah heard footsteps pounding down the staircase.

  A young girl in a black dress appeared. “Tyler, save me!” she cried as she raced downstairs and flung herself into Tyler’s arms.

  Victoria screamed again. She flew down the last few steps. “Give me my pouch,” Victoria cried. She lunged for the girl.

  Savannah grabbed her sister’s shoulders and held her back. She could feel Victoria trembling. “I need my pouch, Savannah. I’m not safe here without it. I need protection from the evil. Please, please make her give it back to me.”

  “Is that true, Lucy?” Tyler asked. “Did you take something that belongs to Victoria?”

  So this is Lucy, Savannah realized. She is just a child.

  “Answer me, Lucy,” Tyler said firmly.

  Lucy nodded. “But I only wanted to look inside,” she said. “I wasn’t going to keep it.”

  “Give it back, and say you are sorry,” Tyler instructed. “There is nothing Lucy likes better than finding out secrets,” he added to Savannah. “She creeps around here as quiet as a little mouse, hoping to hear something interesting.”

  Lucy held out the pouch, and Victoria snatched it away. “I’m sorry,” Lucy said in high little voice.

  Victoria didn’t answer. She frantically tried to repin the pouch onto her skirt. “Let me,” Savannah said. She pinned the pouch firmly in place.

  Savannah didn’t like to encourage Victoria in her strange beliefs. But if Victoria believed the pouch could protect her from evil, Savannah thought it was harmless. She wanted her sister to be happy at Blackrose Manor.

  “Lucy, this is Miss Savannah Gentry and Miss Victoria Gentry. Remember I wrote and told you they will be living with us from now on.”

  Lucy peered up at Savannah. Her curly black hair framed her young face. “Did your mother and father die too?” Lucy asked. “That’s why I came to live here.”

  “Yes, they did.” Savannah’s heart went out to the young girl whose black eyes held such sadness. Lucy can’t be more than thirteen, Savannah thought to herself. So very young to be an orphan.