Page 69 of If I Stopped Haunting You

Neil lifted the letters and turned them in his hands.

“Lovers?” he asked, glancing up at Penelope.

She shrugged. “It’s possible. Fanny did say there were rumors and legends, so maybe they got it wrong. Maybe the ghost in the cellar is the soldier and not her brother? Her lover who died at war? Who else would write so many letters back and forth?” She motioned for them. “If I may?”

After taking the letters from Neil, Penelope stood and crossed to the desk. Setting aside the journal, she untied the string and dumped the letters across the oak surface. Neil followed, stopping at her side as their eyes scanned the name and address.

“That’s this castle,” he said, reaching for one of them.

Penelope ran a finger over the wax seal and held it up for him to see. It was a deep red, imprinted with a symbol much like the stag tapestries they’d seen throughout the castle.

“The woman,” they said in unison. A noble lady’s wax seal.

The letters belonged to the family that owned the castle, which only meant one thing: The journal and the letters were from the woman. So, who was Archie?

“Look at this one,” Penelope said, handing him a letter. “Dated May 1815.”

Dearest Archie,

My father has taken to locking me in my room. He will not let me leave. I eat in here, I bathe in here, and I sleep in here, all without you. When you held my hand and promised to be with me always, I believed you.

I do not know what to do without you.

I feel it growing inside of me, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

Love,

Georgina

“Georgina,” Neil said, testing it out. “That’s her name, isn’t it?” He shivered, a prickling sense of being watched sending him hurtling toward the edge. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.”

Penelope looked up questioningly at him. “Are you communicating with the ghost?”

Neil shuddered at the thought. “If that involves cold touches and me being creeped out and shivering in response, then yes?”

“But on the envelope, she’s written ‘Georgina Walsh.’”

“Walsh… Skinner?” Neil shook his head. “Something isn’t adding up.”

Their eyes went to the hall. The hall that led to the staircase, and from there to the west wing. Neil knew the answers were waiting there. He had sensed it since their first night in the castle, ever since the groundskeeper had told them not to go. Whatever happened in this castle more than two hundred years ago happened somewhere down that hall, in the room where they’d seen the woman standing.

There were a lot of letters left to read, a lot of the story still missing, but Neil’s stomach gurgled. Penelope grinned up at him.

“Let’s get some food,” she urged, nudging him toward the kitchen.

She held out a hand, and Neil took it, desperately trying to ignore the soft caress of another hand along his shoulder as they retreated to the kitchen.

Chapter 20

PEN

Laszlo stared daggers at them as they slipped quietly into the kitchen. It smelled heavenly, thyme and butter lingering in the air and making Pen’s mouth water. He was pouring a pint of beer at the counter, and Pen surged forward and snatched it from him, taking a long drink.

“You missed the afternoon session.”

“We’ve been busy,” Pen gasped as she handed it back to Laszlo and wiped her hand over her mouth.

“Bet you have.” Laszlo snorted, refilling his pint.