The Ghosts of Peppernell Manor Read online

  Books by Amy M. Reade

  Secrets of Hallstead House

  The Ghosts of Peppernell Manor

  THE GHOSTS OF PEPPERNELL MANOR

  AMY M. READE

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Books by Amy M. Reade

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  SECRETS OF HALLSTEAD HOUSE

  Copyright Page

  For Jeanne

  Acknowledgments

  There are so many people who deserve huge thanks for the publication of this book.

  First, I would like to extend my appreciation to Martin Biro, my talented and all-around fabulous editor at Kensington whose ideas and encouragement have been invaluable to me. I consider myself a very lucky person to know Martin and to be one of “his authors.”

  Second, I would like to thank everyone who read my first novel, Secrets of Hallstead House. I appreciate each and every one of you!

  Third, I wish to thank the visitors to my website, blog, and social media pages because you help make writing the thing I love to do each and every day.

  Finally, of course, I would like to thank my family and friends for their unending support and encouragement and for being my personal cheerleading squad. You all mean the world to me, and I love you.

  PROLOGUE

  “Sarah, you’ll have to stay here tonight to take care of Philip and Gertie during the party.”

  Sarah nodded, her dark eyes revealing nothing of the deep resentment she felt toward her mistress. She should have known. The children would have to stay upstairs while guests thronged the ballroom on the first floor. Though Mrs. Violet Peppernell paid Sarah a high compliment by trusting her with Philip and Gertie, Sarah nursed a smoldering anger at being unable to go home to see her daddy, who would be leaving tomorrow. Mrs. Peppernell knew that, but she didn’t care about him. He was invisible to her.

  Sarah fed Philip and Gertie upstairs in the nursery and then told them a long story before putting them to bed. They liked her stories. They were sweet children, but it wasn’t the same as rocking in her mother’s chair and spinning tales for her nieces and nephews.

  While Philip and Gertie slept, Sarah stood staring out the window, wondering what was happening at home. She was going to miss her daddy. Tears stung her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks as she tried to imagine her life without him, but she wiped them away impatiently. Mama had told her to be strong. After all, she was fifteen, practically a grown woman. And these auctions were just a part of life.

  It was just after one o’clock in the morning when Mrs. Peppernell came upstairs and Sarah was finally able to go home. She walked across the sweeping front lawn of Peppernell Manor guided by the light of the full moon, listening to the rustling of the oaks, then veered off into the small wood where she lived with her extended family and the other slaves in small, dingy cabins. It was silent in the woods except for the nighttime insects with their soothing chirps and clicks.

  Sarah tiptoed around the small garden plot in front of her cabin and started up the wooden steps, being careful to avoid the creaky spots so no one would wake up. She was reaching for the door handle when a soft noise made her turn around. She tilted her head, listening hard.

  She heard it again. It was a shuffling sound coming from the cabin next door. The family that had lived there had all gone away, Sarah didn’t know where, so the cabin was supposed to be empty. Maybe there was an animal inside.

  Quietly, she walked to the next cabin and peered in the front door. She didn’t want to meet a fox or an angry raccoon.

  But it was too dark to see anything.

  She was afraid to step inside. She had second thoughts and started to back away toward her own cabin.

  That’s why she wasn’t able to stop her daddy when he killed himself a split second later with a flash of light and the roar of a shotgun.

  CHAPTER 1

  It had been a long drive to South Carolina, but Lucy and I had made the best of it, giggling through nursery rhymes, eating fast food, making silly faces at each other in the rearview mirror, and playing I Spy on every highway between Chicago and Charleston.

  We arrived one sultry afternoon in late August last year. I barely remembered the back roads from Charleston to Peppernell Manor, so it was like watching the scenery unfold over the miles for the first time. Spanish moss hung low to the ground from stately trees over a century old. Perfectly still water reflected the magnolias and camellias and the hazy sky in the Lowcountry lakes and waterways that we passed. Lacy clumps of wildflowers nodded languidly as we drove by. Lucy was interested in everything that whizzed past the windows of the car, commenting excitedly on all the new sights as we drove toward Peppernell Manor.

  “Look at the cows! Moo!”

  “Look at the pretty flowers!” she would pipe up from the backseat in her high-pitched little-girl voice. I loved driving with her because she helped me see all the things I missed with my adult eyes.

  As we got closer to Peppernell Manor, I found myself sharing her excitement. I hadn’t been there since college. My thoughts stretched back to the only other time I had visited South Carolina, when Evie took me to her home for a long weekend. We had gone sightseeing in Charleston, horseback riding, boating on the Ashley River, and on a tour of an old Confederate field hospital nearby. But despite all the fun we had, it wasn’t the activities I remembered best about that trip—it was her house.

  Manor, actually. Peppernell Manor had been in her family for generations and even though it had seen better days and was in need of some work, it was exquisite. As a lover of art I could appreciate its romance and graceful architecture, but as a history major I was more interested in the home’s past as a plantation house.

  It was to this plantation house that I was returning, this time with my daughter.

  CHAPTER 2

  I had been surprised to get Evie’s phone call a month earlier at my office in Chicago with that offer that was too good to refuse.

  “You remember Peppernell Manor,” Evie had said.

  “I remember it very well,” I answered.

  “It needs refurbishing badly. Gran doesn’t know what to do with it. I told her that you’re the best restoration specialist money can buy,” she told me excitedly. I smiled into the phone.

  “There’s a lot of work that needs to be done. It needs attention from top to bottom. The whole family voted and the job is yours. If you want it,” she added hastily.

  I was thrilled. Of course I wanted it!

  But I had some practical concerns. First, I wasn’t sure I should leave my business for an extended period. Luckily, my assistants, a capable young architect and his interior-designer wife, assured me that they would manage the restoration firm during my absence with the same attention to detail and respect for the past that had made Warner R
estorations a success.

  Second, and more importantly, I knew I would have a hard time convincing my ex-husband to let Lucy come with me and there was no way I was leaving her behind to take a job in South Carolina.

  “You must be nuts,” he said flatly when I first broached the subject with him.

  “Think about it, Brad. It would only be temporary, while I’m working on the restoration. And we could come back to Chicago a few times so you could see her for extended periods. Or you could even come down to South Carolina to see her and stay as long as you like. And I’ll make sure she calls you every night.”

  Silence. I waited. Brad loves Lucy, but he loves himself more. I could almost hear him thinking about all the free time he could have without a toddler to care for on the weekends.

  “You would take good care of her?”

  “I won’t even answer such a stupid question.”

  “Well, let me think about it.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  In the end, he decided his weekends with the new girlfriend were more important than his weekends with Lucy. I knew that’s what would happen. Lucy and I left a few weeks later.

  And after several long days on the road, we had finally arrived at our destination. I turned off the main road. Driving up to Peppernell Manor was not like going up any other driveway. I slowed the car to a crawl so we could enjoy the view. The sweeping allée, the rows of oaks that lined the long brick drive to the house, looked as old and graceful as it had during my first visit to this remarkable place. The branches of the trees arched over the drive to form a dappled tunnel through which visitors were given their first glimpse of the home beyond. Lucy squealed with delight when she saw those big old trees. She had never seen anything like that long drive with its arching branches back in Chicago. At the end of the allée the driveway formed a wide, sweeping circle in front of the house.

  The manor house was a gem of Federalist architecture. It was a huge square structure with white clapboard siding that was set off by tall black shutters outside each of the many windows. A large veranda yawned between two enormous white pillars. The brick front steps separated at the top to sweep down to the ground from the left and the right. Below the veranda and stretching all around the manor were whitewashed brick archways through which one could glimpse large windows gazing into the basement. Despite the beauty of the old house, I could see where the paint was peeling and where the hinges had come loose from some of the shutters. The manor had a neglected air about it.

  I parked my car along the side of the circle and got out to extract Lucy from the back. As I helped the small, wriggling body out of the car seat, we both turned to see Evie running down the front staircase.

  “Carleigh!” she shouted, a huge smile lighting up her face.

  I put Lucy down and turned to give my friend a big hug. Though we had kept in close contact in the years since college, I hadn’t seen her since graduation and I had missed her. We shared photos online and frequent e-mails and phone calls, but it wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person.

  Evie crouched down next to Lucy, wrinkling her linen sheath dress. “You must be Lucy. I recognize you from your mom’s pictures!” she said brightly.

  Lucy nodded, averting her eyes from Evie, and held my hand.

  “Lucy, you remember me telling you about Evie. She’s our good friend,” I told her gently. “You can say hello.”

  “Hello,” she said shyly, then turned her head to face my leg.

  Evie smiled. “I’m very happy to meet you, Lucy. There are more friends to meet inside the house. Would you like to go in?”

  Lucy nodded again, her face still pressed against my shorts.

  I picked her up and took the hand Evie offered me and the three of us walked up the stairs and into the manor.

  We stepped into the expansive and breathtaking entry hall. Its marble floor and soaring ceiling lent an elegant coolness to the space that belied the sweltering heat and humidity just outside the door. A scuffed but gracefully curving mahogany staircase swept upward to the second floor. At the opposite end of the entry hall I could glimpse through another door the slow-moving Ashley River as it meandered past the property. Though not visible from this particular bend in the river, the magnificent, historic city of Charleston lay downstream about fifteen miles and across the water.

  I set Lucy down, but she stayed close, grasping my hand. Evie pointed to the room on our right.

  “Carleigh, you remember Cora-Camille, my grandmother,” Evie said in her sweet Southern drawl. “She’s right in there and she can’t wait to see you.”

  We walked through the wide doorway into a large drawing room with tall windows that invited the light in from outdoors. Cora-Camille Chadwick-Peppernell, Evie’s warm and gracious grandmother, stood up from where she had been reading a book on an old-fashioned sofa. She walked over to me with her hands outstretched.

  “Carleigh Warner. It’s been such a long time! Evie keeps us up to date with stories about you and your beautiful little girl, but it’s just not the same as having you here. Welcome back!” She looked at Lucy. “I am so happy to meet you, Lucy. Will you call me Cora-Camille?”

  Lucy shook her head.

  Cora-Camille laughed. “How about Miss Cora? Do you like that better?”

  “Yes,” the child answered, her blond curls bobbing up and down.

  “Then Miss Cora it is.”

  She held out her hand to Lucy, who took it after a quick look at me for approval. They walked over to the sofa where Cora-Camille had been sitting and she motioned Evie and me to sit down in the two chairs facing her.

  “The others are all out right now, except for Ruby,” Cora-Camille said with a smile. “They’re all thrilled that you’re here to do the restoration.”

  She looked fondly at Lucy. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have a child in this house again,” she said wistfully. She turned to my daughter to talk of little-girl things, like dolls and stuffed animals and dress-up clothes. Evie got a work-related text and left the room, apologizing for having to reply right away.

  While Cora-Camille and Lucy chatted, I had an opportunity to observe Evie’s lovely grandmother. She had stood straight and tall the last time I was here, years ago, and though time had been kind to her, I could see the evidence of her aging. Her back was slightly less straight than it used to be, and her shoulders hunched forward just a bit. Her face was crisscrossed with wrinkles, the signs of a life well led. Her hair was a little thinner than I remembered it, but still a soft, glorious white. She and Lucy were both giggling and I knew they would be fast friends.

  Evie returned and grinned at Cora-Camille and Lucy. “This is so good for Gran,” she said softly. I nodded.

  Cora-Camille turned to me. “Did you meet Ruby when you visited us before?”

  “Not that I recall,” I replied. I knew Ruby was Evie’s aunt, Cora-Camille’s daughter. Evie had spoken of Ruby in the past, but only briefly. I knew Ruby suffered from anxiety issues.

  “Ruby has been so excited to meet you and Lucy,” Cora-Camille told me. “She’s been in the kitchen for hours, baking something special for you for dinner tonight.”

  Lucy bounced up and down. “What is it?” she cried.

  Cora-Camille laughed again. “It’s a surprise. You have to eat your dinner and then you’ll find out.”

  “Is dinner now?”

  “In a little while,” I answered. “We have to get our things out of the car first and unpack.”

  She seemed eager to help with the unpacking, so the two of us and Evie walked back outdoors and took two suitcases from the trunk of the car. Though Lucy’s bag had wheels, she struggled with it. I suggested that she take her stuffed bunny, Cottontail, into the house so I could take her bag. She agreed readily and ran ahead of me into the house, excited to introduce Cottontail to Miss Cora. Evie and I carried the bags upstairs, returning to the car several times for more luggage.

  Once the car was unpacked,
I moved it to a four-stall garage that had been erected on the left side of the driving circle since my last visit. Though it was relatively new, the garage had an antique look to it, with distressed white wooden clapboard siding and a loft, presumably for storage. The structure matched the manor well.

  I went back into the house in search of Lucy. I could hear her talking excitedly in the back of the house, so I wandered back toward the kitchen. There I found Lucy, Cora-Camille, Evie, and another woman I assumed to be Ruby.

  Lucy turned to me, pointing to a gorgeous cake on the counter. “Mama! Ruby made cake!”

  Ruby smiled shyly at me, her eyes downcast. She was of medium height and appeared to be in her sixties. The sides of her shoulder-length brown-gray hair were pinned to the top of her head with a barrette. She was dressed in a simple light pink shirtwaist.

  “The cake is red on the inside!” Lucy said, grinning.

  “How did you know red is Lucy’s favorite color?” I asked Ruby with a wink.

  “I love to make red velvet,” she answered in a quiet voice.

  “It looks delicious,” I told her. Then, turning to Lucy, I suggested, “Why don’t we go upstairs and see where you and I are going to sleep?”

  “Okay.”

  Evie led the way upstairs to one of the two guest bedrooms on the second floor. We had placed all the luggage on the floor just inside the door, so it was a bit of a mess. But the room was spacious and inviting, with plenty of storage for us to put away all of our clothes and other belongings. Lucy immediately went to the window to see what she could identify outside. She turned to me and yelled, “There’s water down there!”

  Evie joined her at the window, explaining that the water was part of the Ashley River and was very important to the Peppernell Manor farm.

  “Are there animals on the farm?”

  “Yes. We have some cows and horses, and of course chickens, and some sheep. Would you like to see them?”

  Lucy jumped up and down, clapping. “Yes! Yes!”