to remember why she’d come here—to seek employment. To be her own person, make her own money. To start over.
Ella brushed her damp bangs from her forehead, then motioned Selene forward. “Follow me and we’ll continue the tour.” She strode down the foyer, stopped at a set of double doors and faced Selene again. “This is by far the most impressive part of the house.”
With dramatic flair, Ella threw open the doors to reveal a massive circular room covered in what appeared to be original wood-plank floors. In the center of that room, a freestanding, wide red-carpeted staircase spiraled to the second floor. Selene’s gaze tracked to the ceiling that showcased gold-winged cherubs flitting about a large expanse of cloud-bedecked blue sky, a chandelier dripping with crystals serving as the focal point. She’d seen this type of room before, but only in photographs that couldn’t compare to witnessing the real thing with her own eyes. “This is absolutely breathtaking.”
Ella smiled proudly. “It had that effect on me the first time I saw it.” She pointed across the way. “The kitchen and dining room are through there. We can see those later. I’ll show you the second floor now.”
As she followed Ella up the stairway, her hand firmly gripping the white iron railing, Selene felt as if she were climbing toward heaven. A tranquil piece of paradise among the darkness.
When they reached the landing, Ella stopped and nodded to her left. “That corridor leads to the front of the house where you’ll find two rooms. One was formerly a nursery, the other’s been converted into a private office.”
Heavy emphasis on private, Selene noted. She motioned to her right. “And down that way?”
“The rest of the second-floor bedrooms, including where you’ll be staying if we come to an agreement.”
“I would be expected to live on-site?”
“Room and board would be included while you’re here.”
Selene supposed it would make things more convenient. She wouldn’t have to drive the ten miles or so into town, or find a suitable place to live. If she decided to accept the job. A decision not to be taken lightly, Selene thought as she trailed behind Ella, who made an immediate right into a narrow paneled hallway illuminated by the occasional dimly lit lamp mounted to the wall.
They’d only walked a few feet when Selene’s attention landed straight ahead on a bronze life-size statue looming at the end of the corridor. A demonic creature complete with horns, pointy teeth and claws with a terrified, scantily clad woman in its grasp. The menacing figure definitely contrasted with the angels keeping watch over the rotunda downstairs. A classic illustration of good versus evil. Heaven opposed to hell.
Selene suddenly found herself in the grip of another vision. Unlike her first images on the entry steps, this came to her as if she were watching somewhere on the sidelines, as it always had in the past. The image of a hand sliding down her bare arm. A very large, very male hand that continued down her back, formed to her waist, drifted to her bottom, before she blinked and forced the image away. She had no idea where the vision had originated since there seemed to be no one around. And she found that more than a little troublesome.
She hadn’t realized she’d come to a complete stop until Ella turned and favored her with another smile. “It’s rather grotesque, isn’t it? I call him Giles, after the former owner. The crazy man loved that thing, but then he was always known for being eccentric.”
Eccentric wouldn’t be the term Selene used to describe the former owner. Scary would be more like it. She couldn’t imagine wanting the “thing” around every morning, or at bedtime. “I’m surprised he didn’t take it with him.” She was sorry he hadn’t.
Ella laughed. “Unfortunately, it was too big to fit in his coffin.”
Selene internally cringed. Was that the source of her vision—the mental musings of a ghost? That had never happened to her before. Normally she channeled the thoughts of living, breathing humans, at her own peril at certain points in her life. “I’m sorry to hear he passed away.”
“Don’t be,” Ella said. “He was almost ninety and quite frankly, I thought he was too cantankerous to die. In fact, he had a mistress forty years his junior. She’s the one who did him in.”
“She killed him?” Selene couldn’t disguise her distress.
Ella shook her head and laughed again. “Not intentionally. Let’s just say the Morrell men have virility down to a fine art. Unfortunately, Giles didn’t know his limitations.”
“Well, at least he left this world a happy man.” Now for the question foremost on Selene’s mind. “Did he pass away in this house?”
“No. He died in France.” Selene’s frame relaxed from relief until Ella added, “But unfortunately, this place has a reputation for tragedy.”
Great. Just what Selene wanted to hear—the mansion could be home to restless spirits intent on haunting her brain. But only if she let that happen, which she wouldn’t, if she could prevent it.
They continued on for a few steps until Ella stopped at a closed door. “Your quarters would be in here.” She pointed toward the end of the hallway where the demon held court. “That guest room over there is closed for the time being. The current owner keeps it locked and prefers it not be disturbed.”
Selene gaped for a few moments. “I thought you were the owner.”
Ella frowned. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. Adrien Morrell, Giles’s grandson, inherited the plantation. I’m his assistant.” Her frown melted into a cynical smile. “And his maid and cook. I also advise him from time to time, whether he asks for my advice or not.”
Selene was beginning to suspect she had a lot to learn, and worried some of it might not be pleasant at all. “Does Mr. Morrell live here?” she asked.
“That’s his room.” Ella indicated a closed door nearby. “It’s the master suite and adjacent to your room, but I promise he won’t bother you.”
“Where is your room?” Selene asked.
“Off the kitchen. I spend much of my time there. And this would be your room.” Ella opened the door to the prospective living quarters and waved Selene inside.
As it was with the rest of the house, the bedroom was adorned with more antiques, including a huge cherrywood Victorian double bed covered in a white lace spread. Several colorful braided rugs covered the hardwood floors that had lost their sheen. Straight ahead, the white curtains were pulled back to reveal double French doors opening to a veranda that apparently faced the back of the heavily wooded property. Several fans were set about the room, including two overhead, but they did little to alleviate the heat.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t have a private bath,” Ella said. “You would have to use the one across the hall that serves this wing.”
Now that was just wonderful, sharing a bathroom with a total stranger. And a man, no less. Of course, she’d shared a bath with a virtual stranger before—her husband. And toward the end of the marriage, Richard had slept in another bedroom altogether. Lived in his own private world. A world that hadn’t included his wife. “Then I assume that means Mr. Morrell uses it, too.”
“Actually, his suite has its own bath. The younger Mr.
