The Gilded Curse: Will the young heiress be the next victim of her family's curse? (5 page)

“I wouldn’t say that. I did get a spanking for disobeying and climbing that tree in my new dress.”

As they strolled down the road, Lexie noted several gardeners working the club grounds. Russell waved and they nodded. One man though, an older man with leathered skin, scowled at them as he leaned on his rake. Lexie turned to see Russell’s reaction.

“Whatever is the matter with that man? Did the two of you have a disagreement?”

“That’s Abner Jones. It’s not me he’s got a beef with, though. It’s you.”

“Me? Why on earth would he have anything against me?”

“He was the gardener for Destiny before your family fired him.”

Lexie gulped, her stomach churning. “We didn’t mean him any harm, you know. Our accountant didn’t think we needed the additional cost for a place we didn’t use.” Not with the rising costs of Mother’s care. “Should I go apologize to him?”

Russell placed his hand on her arm, holding her back. “I don’t believe that’s necessary. You better just keep your distance. Some people hold grudges a long time.”

Lexie shook off the chill from the gardener’s gaze. “I hope he didn’t suffer any hardship.”

“Fortunately, we found him a place on our grounds crew. Don’t let it worry that pretty head of yours.” Russell gave her a wink. “Besides, I
don’t think I’ve ever seen the fellow smile, anyway.”

Her face flamed and she turned away, focusing on the stately Crane Cottage on their right with its formal gardens. She remembered her grandfather complaining about Mr. Crane building the massive Italianate-villa style home, the largest cottage on the island, which wasn’t in keeping with the other more “modest” homes of the compound. She noted the red tile roof, unique to the neighborhood, and admired the arches and wrought iron railings as they walked past.

Once past Crane, Lexie jolted to a stop. She stared, covering her open mouth with her gloved hand.

Instead of seeing Chichota Cottage, which used to be the next house on the street, two stone lions glared at intruders as they stood alone guarding steps that led to nothing. No grand front door and foyer greeted visitors anymore. Instead, all that remained of the Gould’s former cottage were the foundations and the palm-lined courtyard with an empty swimming pool—the only evidence the impressive home had ever existed.

“What happened to Chichota?” she asked Russell as she struggled to comprehend what she saw. Where was the grand home where she had played with Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Gould’s grandchildren?

“It had to be demolished last year.”

“But why? Where are the Goulds?”

“Their other son Frank still lives here with his family at his cottage, Villa Marianna, but his mother refused to return to Jekyll after Edwin Jr. died here in a hunting accident. Mr. Gould Senior only came to the island a few times after that, and when he died, the house fell into very poor condition. Plus, even with our patrols, vandals managed to cause more damage in the off-season. It became an eyesore and a potential fire hazard to the other homes, so it had to be torn down.”

Hunting accident? Lexie barely heard the rest of what Russell said. A shudder coursed through her body. When Father was killed in a hunting accident, her family had quit coming to the island too. Maybe it really was cursed.

“Lexie, are you all right?” Russell searched her face before a look of understanding crossed his. “Oh dear. I shouldn’t have mentioned the accident. I’m sorry, Lexie. How inconsiderate of me.”

Lexie shook her head. “No need to apologize, Russell. I’m just surprised to hear about another hunting accident. Have there been many here?”

His gaze drifted away to a place she couldn’t see. He answered in a monotone voice. “No. Only two.”

Was he there when the accident happened? When her father’s accident happened? She didn’t dare ask. She really didn’t want to know. Maybe someday she could bring herself to ask about it, but not yet. She closed that door in her mind and focused on the task at hand.

“Russell, is Destiny in as bad a shape as Chichota was?” Her steps slowed. Maybe she wasn’t ready to see her family’s old cottage yet. The shock of Chichota’s demise still reverberated through her.

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, it needs some repairs, but it’s not falling down. And like I said, the patrols try to keep an eye on it to prevent vandalism.”

“The Appletons told me it was haunted. Why would they say that?”

He chuckled. “Did they now? Some people love to spread rumors.”

“Especially Mrs. Appleton. But really, they said strange noises and lights inside the house have been seen. Have you heard about that?”

“Yes, I’ve heard the rumors.” He laughed. “But, I’m sure there’s a more reasonable explanation. After all, there
is
that old Indian burial mound on the property.”

Lexie jerked her head to see his expression. She recalled the hill in the yard where they’d played ‘King of the Mountain.’ “I forgot about that. But surely you don’t believe in that nonsense about Indian ghosts getting revenge, even though you and Robert tried to scare me with that old tale. But what about the noises and lights the Appletons mentioned?”

Russell shook his head. “Can’t say. But we’re almost there. You can see for yourself if Destiny has any ghosts.”

Chapter 4

T
he yard and hedges along the crushed oyster shell driveway leading to the porte cochere were trimmed as they’d always been. But the oaks Lexie climbed as a child were now massive, towering over the house and reaching with their limbs in a protective embrace to keep the world out. Spanish moss draped from the branches and brushed the roof like long gray beards of old hermits.

Lexie scanned the cottage grounds alongside the Jekyll Island River then eyed Russell.

“Russell, if we fired the gardener, who’s been taking care of the grounds?”

“Abner.” Russell shrugged, his arms out to his sides. “After taking care of the property for thirty years, he insisted on keeping it up. Said it was a matter of pride in his work.”

“But who paid him?” Lexie strode over to a camellia bush whose red flowers were disintegrating into a puddle on the ground beneath. She picked up one of the soft petals and held it to her nose, rubbing its silky texture with her thumb, then glanced back over her shoulder at Russell.

“Since he’s on our crew, we’ve paid his salary. I’ve given him a little extra since he’s doing us a favor keeping the place up.”

“How strange.” Lexie dropped the petal. “I must speak with him and thank him.”

“Suit yourself.” Russell nodded at the house. “Too bad he couldn’t take care of the house too.”

Lexie let her eyes roam over the aging cottage, once so welcoming, now depressing.

Scores of cedar shake shingles were missing from the roof while blistered gray paint peeled off the siding. The dingy white window frames around the dormers hung rotten from the ravages of southern humidity. As they drew closer to the house, she could see several broken windows on the top floor.

“Why would anyone break a window on the third floor?” Lexie
pointed to the third story where the family servants used to stay. “It wouldn’t be an easy way to break in.”

Russell shook his head. “Who knows why anyone vandalizes property? I suppose they think it’s fun.”

“How stupid.” Lexie stomped up the steps to the sweeping veranda that wrapped around the house on three sides.

The wood floor groaned under the weight of their footsteps. Dark drapes covered the windows, hiding the interior from view. Lexie wrapped her arms around herself to suppress a sudden chill. Had the temperature just dropped?

“I do wish you’d let us air the place out for you first.” Russell produced a key then grabbed the doorknob.

“No need. Especially since I’m not staying here.” She stared at the door, holding her breath, wondering what would greet her inside.

Russell’s forehead pinched with concern as he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Are you ready for this, Lexie?”

Lexie rubbed her upper arms and nodded. “Yes, of course. Let’s get on with it.”

Russell jiggled and jerked the key and knob with both hands before the lock gave way and relinquished its hold. Creaking hinges complained of years unused as Russell shoved open one side of the double doors.

Lexie hesitated before stepping inside, her eyes peering into the shadows within.

Russell touched her arm. “Wait. I’ll get some light in here.” He disappeared into the dusky room. Light creeped in as he went from window to window throwing back the heavy drapes. “All right. I believe you can see now,” he called from across the room.

Musty air filled her nostrils as she entered the foyer opening into the parlor. Lexie covered her mouth with one hand, waved the air with the other, and coughed.

“You see, we should’ve opened the house before you came.” Russell strode back to the front door and forced the other side free, pushing them both wide open. “There, that’ll help. I’ll try to open some of these windows.”

She wanted to tell him not to bother, but she feared she’d suffocate without fresh air. The walls threatened to close in on her. Claustrophobia. She’d seen this among other patients at the hospital. Did she suffer from it too?

“Lexie, are you okay?” He approached her and put his hand on her
shoulder, peering into her face. “We can come back later, give the house a chance to air.”

She shook her head. She could do this. “No. Let’s not leave just yet. I’d like to have a quick look around first.”

“If you say so.” He dropped his arm and motioned for her to go on.

As fresh air forced its way inside, Lexie let herself relax. Hordes of dust particles flickered in rays of light piercing the dirty windows. Her gaze followed the beams to the distorted shapes of sheet-covered furniture throughout the room. Squinting to force a memory of how the room used to look, she could see it—the sofa in front of the fireplace, Grandmother and Grandfather sitting there and talking. She shook her head. No. They were gone, like everyone else. She swallowed hard and bit back tears. Her grandparents would be so sad to see the condition of their beloved cottage.

She diverted her gaze to the fireplace and the mirror hanging above it, the surface marred with blackened spots where the silver had worn off, no longer able to look at the room in front of it. The rest of the walls were barren, showing pale squares where the family portraits were once displayed. The roses on the yellowed custom-made wallpaper appeared wilted and dying where the paper was still attached to the wall. Lexie cringed at the sight of cobwebs in every corner. Hopefully, the spiders had died too.

“Would you like to see any other rooms?”

Lexie jumped at the sound of his voice. She’d forgotten Russell was there, she’d gotten so lost in the past. She glanced over at him, noting the raised eyebrows as he watched her every move. Thank goodness he had come with her. She moved around the furniture, afraid to touch the dusty covers. The den contained more peculiar shapes created by the covered furniture. One piece, however, was not covered.

The antique secretary in the corner was not only exposed, it’d been violated. Every drawer had been opened and several dashed to the floor. The cracked beveled glass doors were open and the cubbyholes looked like they’d been smashed with a hammer. She ran over to the desk, picking up one of the drawers and holding it to her chest as tears filled her eyes. Russell rushed to her side.

“How could someone do such a thing?” She choked back a sob. “Why would anyone damage a piece of beautiful furniture like this?” This is where Grandmother sat writing her letters, where her mother had done the same, and where Lexie, the child, had drawn pictures. Grandfather
used to tease them saying, “Every time I look at that secretary, there’s a Smithfield woman sitting there.” Lexie’s heart cracked like the glass in the secretary doors.

Russell put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Lexie. I wish our patrols had noticed something amiss and been able to stop this destruction.” He turned his head to view the rest of the room. “We don’t know what damage there is to the rest of the house. Everything else is still covered.”

He let go of Lexie and strode to one of the concealed shapes, jerking off the covering. The green velvet sofa showed no sign of damage. Russell walked through the room, ripping off covers and revealing furnishings that had long since seen light. Everything else appeared undisturbed, though. He turned and faced Lexie, arms outstretched with palms up.

“Nothing else appears to be damaged.”

“But why would they attack this piece?”

“Maybe they were looking for something.” Russell leaned over to examine the desk more closely.

Alarm shot through her. “What could they be looking for?” Vandalism was one thing, but searching her family’s things was quite another.

Russell straightened, his hands on his hips. “Do you know if anyone, perhaps your father or grandfather, kept anything important in it?”

She shook her head. “Russell, I was twelve when we left. I’ve been gone ten years, so I don’t remember a lot.” She crossed her arms. “But do you think it makes sense for my father or grandfather to leave anything valuable here?”

He shrugged. “No, it doesn’t. And if they did, it would have been kept in the safe.”