The Hidden Evil Read online

  Garret moved toward her. “Miss Thomas. You must let me explain,” he said.

  Maggie backed away from him—until she bumped into the chiffonier. Andrew’s voice popped into her head. If we ever unlock that door, Mother will find Garret and kill him.

  That gave her an idea. A crazy idea, but maybe her only hope. She snatched up the music box. She snapped open the secret compartment and grasped the key to the tower room.

  “Noooo!” Garret howled when he saw it.

  Maggie knocked over the chair in front of Mr. Malbourne’s dressing table as she ran past Garret. She could hear him close behind her and she raced to the tower.

  “No!” Garret yelled as he chased her up the winding stairs. “You don’t understand!”

  Maggie reached the round landing at the top of the tower a few steps ahead of him. She lunged at the door to the tower room and shoved the key into the lock.

  Open, please, open, she thought.

  She turned the key. Click!

  Bang! The door blew open with a slam.

  A rush of foul yellow smoke filled the air. Thick smoke that reeked of decaying flesh.

  Garret uttered a long, shrill shriek of terror.

  Inside the smoke, Maggie saw a woman begin to form. A woman with a thin, beautiful face surrounded by long, flowing hair. “Help me!” Maggie cried. “Please, you must help me!”

  Garret backed away, his eyes wide with horror. “No!” he screamed. “No, Mother!”

  Mrs. Malbourne’s eyes glowed green with hatred.

  I can’t watch, Maggie thought. She couldn’t bear to see what this creature would do to Garret.

  But Mrs. Malbourne did not reach for Garret. She reached for Maggie.

  “You will never have my husband,” the ghost shrieked, her face twisted with fury. “Never!”

  Chapter

  23

  Boston, 1858

  “The ghost of Mrs. Malbourne wrapped her hands around Maggie’s neck, choking her,” Timothy went on, his voice low but steady. “The putrid yellow smoke filled her nose, and mouth, and lungs. And then—”

  The door to the library flew open. Clyde and Edwina gasped loudly. Martha gave a little squeal.

  Gretchen Fier, Timothy’s stepmother, entered the library. “Do I appear so frightening?” she teased his friends. Everyone laughed loudly, obviously enjoying the release from Timothy’s tense story.

  Timothy smiled at his stepmother. She always made his friends feel welcome in their home.

  “Timothy,” Mrs. Fier said gently, “I am afraid it is getting rather late. Your friends should be getting home, or their parents will worry.”

  Timothy’s friends groaned. “Mrs. Fier, you must not send us home now,” Phillip pleaded. “Timothy is in the middle of telling us a gruesome ghost story about an evil little boy, and he has just come to the very best part.”

  “Yes,” Henry agreed. “This last bit about unlocking the tower room had me shivering. Well done, Timothy.”

  Gretchen Fier raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure you want to tell that old tale?” she asked Timothy. “It used to frighten you so.”

  “I am older, Mother,” he replied with a grin. “I am not afraid.” She gave him a doubtful glance, which didn’t surprise him. She usually knew how he was really feeling, even when he didn’t tell her.

  “Oh, please do not make us leave, Mrs. Fier,” Edwina begged from the settee. “Just ten minutes more.”

  “Please, please, please,” Martha chimed in.

  Mrs. Fier shrugged. “Well, I suppose your friends may stay a little longer. But I will be back soon to check on you.” She shut the door behind her.

  Timothy took one last sip of hot cider. My hand is shaking, he realized. I am eighteen years old, and yet I am afraid to speak the rest of this story out loud.

  He set the wooden mug on the mantel, hoping no one had noticed his trembling fingers.

  Under his bangs, a drop of cold sweat inched down his forehead. He brushed it away. Cleared his throat.

  Then turned back to face his friend. His friend in the shadows. His audience of one.

  He went on. . . .

  Chapter

  24

  Boston, 1847

  The ghost’s thin, strong hands tightened on Maggie’s throat. The thick yellow smoke burned Maggie’s chest and nose. She could taste it on her tongue, thick and oily.

  “You will die before you have my husband!” Mrs. Malbourne shrieked. She shook Maggie back and forth by the neck. “How dare you try to steal him from me!”

  Bright dots of light floated in front of Maggie’s eyes. Her knees felt weak. They wouldn’t support her much longer. I’m going to faint. I’m going to ....

  “Mother!” Garret screamed. And for a moment Mrs. Malbourne’s grip loosened.

  Maggie broke free. She turned and staggered down the winding steps. She could feel blasts of foul, hot air on her neck and back. “Maggie . . .” the ghost wailed behind her.

  Maggie turned onto the second-floor hallway. She grabbed her skirts and flew across the hall and down the main staircase.

  Cold wind ripped through the house. One by one the paintings in the entrance hall smashed to the floor.

  Every window shattered. Tornados of glass flew around Maggie. She tried to protect her eyes with one arm as she dashed through the kitchen and made it outside.

  Now where? Maggie thought frantically. The topiary maze loomed in front of her.

  She had no time to think. She raced to it and ran through the gap in the dark hedge. Which path led to a dead end? She could not remember!

  Maggie chose the left path. Then turned right. Which led directly to a dead end. She spun back in the other direction and slipped facedown on the cold, dewy grass.

  Where is she? Maggie thought. Is Mrs. Malbourne right behind me? She didn’t hear the ghost wailing or smell the putrid smoke.

  Maggie tried to push herself to her feet. Sharp, hot pain shot through her leg.

  She rolled onto her side and lifted her skirt. She saw a piece of white bone sticking through her black stocking. A wave of dizziness swept through her, and she quickly covered her leg.

  It’s broken, she realized. My leg is broken. I’m trapped.

  Maggie dug her fingernails into the ground. Maybe she could pull herself to a hiding place in the maze before Mrs. Malbourne found her. Maybe she could squeeze under a hedge where she wouldn’t be seen.

  A pair of hands came down on her back, pushing her into the ground. Grass filled Maggie’s nose and mouth.

  “You should have known I’d find you,” a voice whispered in her ear.

  Chapter

  25

  Maggie twisted over, breaking the grip pinning her to the ground. She scrambled backward. Dragging her broken leg.

  Andrew stood over her.

  “Oh, Andrew, it’s you!” Maggie gasped. Relief flooded through her.

  Then she caught sight of something in Andrew’s hand. A long shard of glass, deadly as a knife. Andrew smiled. And placed the glass against her throat.

  “Andrew,” Maggie whispered. “Andrew, what are you doing?” With each gulping breath, she felt the blade press hard against her throat.

  “Mother and I do not like people trying to take her place,” he said sweetly. “You made Mother and me very, very angry.”

  Maggie felt faint. She kept her eyes locked on Andrew’s. She could not believe what she was hearing.

  “Andrew, I don’t want to take your mother’s place. I just want to be your friend. We were becoming friends, weren’t we?” Maggie asked.

  Andrew shook his head. “You can’t fool me. Mother and I knew from the moment you arrived what you wanted.”

  “And the other governesses?” Maggie asked. She fought to keep her voice calm. She needed to think. She needed a plan.

  “I killed them. I will show you where they are buried. When I bury you along with them.”

  “And what about Garret?” Maggie asked, trying to distract hi
m. “Does he help you? Is this some game you two play together?”

  Andrew smiled, appearing very pleased with himself. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I would have killed Garret long ago,” he told her happily. “I have always hated Garret. So has my mother. But it is just so much fun to torture him. He gets blamed for whatever I do.”

  He lightly flicked the glass blade across Maggie’s throat, making her gasp.

  “You are just like my sister,” cried Maggie. “You are as evil as Henrietta!”

  “Good-bye, Miss Thomas,” Andrew said.

  “Wait!” Maggie cried.

  But he did not wait.

  With a horrible ripping sound, he slashed her throat.

  Chapter

  26

  Maggie screamed. She grabbed her throat with both hands.

  She expected to feel the slick bubbles of her own blood. But the first slash of the razor-sharp glass only slit open the stiff fabric of Maggie’s prim, high-necked dress, exposing her bare skin.

  Andrew smiled down at her. He still appears so innocent, Maggie thought hazily.

  She tried to shove herself to her feet. But pain ripped through her broken leg. It wouldn’t support her.

  Andrew grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head toward him hard.

  Then he gently brushed her wet hair off her face. “Do not struggle anymore, Miss Thomas,” he whispered in her ear. “You will only cause yourself more pain. Think of it as if you were going to sleep.”

  It’s over, Maggie thought. There is no escape.

  Andrew bent her head back, exposing more of her neck. His smile broadened as he raised the glass shard. Ready to cut her again. Cut her to death.

  Bang! A musket shot blasted feet away from Maggie.

  Chapter

  27

  Maggie’s eardrums throbbed. Smoke burned her nostrils.

  The blade dropped from Andrew’s hand. He tottered and fell forward onto Maggie.

  Then she felt it. Felt the warm wetness. She looked down and saw the blood soaking into her dress. Andrew’s blood.

  A sharp taste hit the back of Maggie’s throat. Her stomach convulsed.

  She rolled Andrew onto the ground and pushed herself into a sitting position. Pain shot through her leg as she stared down at his little face. His eyes stared up at her blankly. And his lips were frozen in a small smile.

  Maggie slowly ran her eyes down Andrew’s body. She shuddered when she saw the hole blown through his chest. She could see green grass poking through.

  Who shot him? Who saved her life?

  She jerked up her head and spotted Garret a few feet away. He slowly pushed himself to his feet. He picked up his father’s heavy musket.

  The blast of the gun must have knocked him to the ground, Maggie thought.

  “Garret,” she said. Her voice quavered and tears stung her eyes.

  He just stared at her, shaking all over.

  “Garret, are you all right?” His lips moved, but no words came out.

  I was so wrong about him, Maggie thought. He’s been trying to protect me from the beginning—that must be why he tried to scare me away from Tanglewood.

  “I’m so sorry,” Maggie told Garret. “I’m so, so sorry I believed such horrible things about you. You’ve been trying to help me all this time, haven’t you?”

  Garret nodded. “I . . . I couldn’t tell you the truth. Andrew—Andrew would have hurt me.”

  “He can’t hurt you anymore,” Maggie said firmly. “No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise. Now I need a little more help from you. I think I’ve broken my leg, so I need you to go and get Cook. She can help me back to the house. Can you do that?”

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised. Maggie could tell how hard he was trying to be brave. He dashed away, down the path toward the entrance of the maze.

  Then he stopped short and turned back toward Maggie. He gazed into the sky. As if he heard something.

  At the same moment Maggie caught a whiff of a familiar smell. Something foul and rotten.

  She saw a strand of yellow smoke float by as an icy wind began to blow.

  No, Maggie thought. No, no, no.

  A horrible scream ripped through the air. More yellow smoke appeared. It twisted and writhed, forming arms, legs, a torso—and the howling face of Mrs. Malbourne.

  The ghost swooped down on Maggie.

  Chapter

  28

  Fury twisted Mrs. Malbourne’s face as she flew at Maggie. She reached out, her fingers curled into claws.

  Maggie cringed. Any moment the ghost would have her.

  “Andrew!” Mrs. Malbourne wailed. She scooped up the body of her younger son.

  Maggie gaped as the ghost lifted Andrew into the air. Mrs. Malbourne held him pressed close to her chest, and the yellow smoke surrounded them both.

  Mrs. Malbourne’s body began to spin. She shrieked, her voice rising in pitch.

  The evil wind pulled pebbles from the ground and needle-like leaves from the bushes, swirling them up into small tornados. Maggie covered her face, trying to protect herself.

  When will this end? she thought. She felt as if Mrs. Malbourne’s voice would drive her to madness.

  At last Mrs. Malbourne’s screams began to fade.

  When Maggie opened her eyes, she saw a gritty gray mist. For a moment two pairs of eyes flickered inside. One glowing green. One glowing blue. Then they disappeared. The mist cleared. And the wind died.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Miss Thomas?” Garret asked as they sat in the library the next afternoon. “Have you thought about what you will tell my father when he returns tonight?”

  Maggie sighed, thinking of all the horrific news she would have to give Mr. Malbourne. “I will tell him the truth.”

  Garret scowled. “He will not believe you.”

  “I will make him believe me,” Maggie promised. “He already knows that Mrs. Malbourne’s spirit was locked in the tower room.”

  “What if he blames me? Andrew always blamed me for everything. Cook and Squires and all the governesses always thought I was evil.”

  Poor Garret, Maggie thought. “Your father will not blame you because you have done nothing wrong. But I’m curious why you tried so hard to make me believe you were a murderer.”

  “I wanted you to leave,” Garret said. “I knew Andrew would kill you if you stayed. I tried to keep everyone away from Andrew . . . and Mother.”

  And it cost you so much, Maggie thought. Everyone feared and hated you. Even I. “I haven’t thanked you for saving my life, Garret. Or apologized for believing you were trying to hurt me.”

  Garret ducked his head. “I don’t know why I picked up the knife when I found Mary’s body. I understand why you ran away from me, especially after all the lies I told you.”

  Cook bustled in with a tea tray and poured for Maggie and Garret. She handed Maggie a recent edition of the New York Herald Tribune. “This just arrived. I thought you might like to look at it until the master comes home.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie murmured. She glanced down at the front page and gave a violent start.

  “Are you all right?” Garret asked softly.

  “Did your leg pain you?” Cook asked.

  “This is an article about someone I know,” she explained. Her fingers trembled as she ran them down the column of newsprint.

  Her sister had committed another murder!

  “Miss Alston discovered her fiancé Carlton Hill’s involvement with another woman,” Maggie read silently. “Enraged to learn that Mr. Hill was only interested in her for her fortune, Miss Alston poisoned the young man with arsenic.”

  She glanced up and found Garret and Cook staring at her.

  “Are you sure you are all right?” the boy asked, hurriedly crossing the library toward her.

  “Wait!” Maggie bent her head, reading the rest of the article. She gasped. Henrietta had been sentenced to hang.

  And she had confessed to poisoning her fathe
r. “Oh, thank you, Hen,” Maggie whispered. “Thank you for that, at least.”

  She began to read aloud. “The authorities are now searching for the whereabouts of one Margaret Alston, the innocent sister wrongly accused in Reginald Alston’s murder! And guess who your governess is, Garret! Oh, I am free!”

  Chapter

  29

  Boston, 1858

  “At last Maggie could finally put her own ghosts to rest,” Timothy said, still speaking directly to the face in the shadows. “The ghosts of her past and the ghosts of Tanglewood.

  “When Harrison Malbourne arrived home, he and Maggie helped each other to rebuild their lives. Less than a year later, he and Maggie—now using her true name of Alston once again—were married. For eleven years they have lived happily in Boston. Not far from where we now sit.”

  Timothy drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The end,” he said.

  It felt good to tell the story after keeping it inside for so many years. I made the right decision, he thought.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Then everyone began talking at once.

  “Oh, Timothy!” Martha exclaimed.

  “I do not think I will sleep well tonight. Shame on you, Timothy Fier!” Edwina scolded.

  “You were right about that story! How horrible!” Clyde said.

  “Where did you hear it? You must tell us,” Phillip demanded.

  “I tutored Garret for a time,” he explained. “He told me the story himself. I think he desperately needed to tell it all to someone. To free himself of it somehow.”

  Edwina shivered. “It is so dark outside. I am almost afraid to go home.”

  “I will share your carriage with you,” Henry offered, “and protect you.”

  “Do not believe him,” Phillip joked. “He is afraid to ride home alone himself. He wants your company so you will protect him!”

  Everyone laughed as they rose to leave. They thanked Timothy for his hospitality and his wonderful story. But despite all the smiles and warm wishes, Timothy could see that they felt truly frightened.