Louise’s breath quickened, and her eyes moved all around the place that included the space behind the wooden divider, but there was no one except her. While she was being spoken to, she had believed it was Graham, only to realize it was the ghost.

Getting out of the bath and drying herself, Louise walked up to the mirror and looked at her neck, which looked smooth without any markings on it.

She had sensed the ghost in the past, but during that time, the ghost had never come so close to her, speaking to her.

Only if she had turned sooner, thought Louise to herself. She would have seen the ghost’s face, who had impersonated Graham’s voice. It made her wonder if the ghost had picked her to be the next one to die. But if it could, it would have killed her in the bathtub, thought Louise to herself.

Even after several minutes passed, Graham had not returned to the room, and Louise kept her eyes wide open if the ghost would reappear. She pulled out the cross that Father Edward had given to her and hung it near the bed. While waiting for Graham, she walked around the room, setting things in their usual place.

She picked up Graham’s book on the table and walked across the room to place it in the drawer where Graham stored his books. But before she could close it, she noticed a piece of paper on the top. It was a piece of poetry, but it wasn’t the words that caught her attention.

Louise picked it up, staring at the paper in her hand in shock.

“It can’t be,” whispered Louise to herself. She quickly walked to her closet and pulled out the letter that she had hidden in there. Opening it, she noticed both the handwriting were similar. Both the ‘g’ and ‘y’ had the same style.

Not a few seconds later, the door of her room opened, and she turned around and met Graham’s eyes. Noticing the shock filled expression on her face, he asked,

“What’s the matter, Louise?”

But Louise was still reeling from what she had discovered, and she stared at him. Though they had decided that she would read his work, she hadn’t got the chance to read it, which was why she had failed to notice his handwriting.

“Is this yours? The poetry about gazing stars?” questioned Louise to him.

Graham looked a little alert, and he gave her a nod, “It is. It was in the drawer.”

“I was keeping a book when I noticed it,” replied Louise, not looking away from him. She wondered why the ghost had impersonated Graham’s out of everyone else, making it look like he was with her earlier. “Did you ever write anything for Lisa?” she asked while her mind raced.

“I don’t understand, Louise,” replied Graham, and Louise gave a slight nod and asked,

“Chloe had given me a letter that Lisa had given to her before she passed away,” said Louise, clutching onto the two papers. “The letter has very mean and hurtful things written for Lisa, of how she didn’t deserve you or the family. That she was not worth it and the handwriting matches with yours. Why? Why does it look just like you have written it?”

Louise liked to believe that Graham had always treated his last wife with love and care because she wasn’t willing to accept that this letter sent to Lisa was by him. It didn’t make sense. She raised her hands, and Graham walked to where she was. He took hold of them and, reading it, his jaws clenched.

“This does look like my writing,” he murmured with a deep frown. “But I don’t remember ever writing something like this to her. I would never write something so demeaning to her.”

“Someone sent it to Lisa before she died, and now I know why she hid it,” murmured Louise to herself while trying to figure out why someone would have copied his handwriting. Was it the ghost? “Can you try to remember if there was anyone who had similar handwriting like yours? Someone maybe who liked to copy you?”

Graham tried to recollect from his memories, “I don’t remember anyone having a similar handwriting like me,” and he realized something. “Lisa must have thought that I was the one who wanted her out of the manor.” A grim expression came to settle on his face with a hint of misery.

Louise felt sorry that Lisa had misunderstood and had her doubts about Graham in her last days. She asked, “Is it possible, that’s why she suggested for you to marry someone else if something happened to her?”

Graham let out a frustrated sigh as if he had been kept in the dark until this very moment. “I should have known something was going on,” he shook his head, disappointment in his voice. “She was scared of me.”

Louise placed her hand on Graham’s shoulder, looking at him closely while also making sure she wasn’t speaking to the ghost again. The letter had been drafted cleverly, blaming Graham in Lisa’s eyes so that she would never go to him for help.

“Why would someone want to frame me in Lisa’s eyes?” Graham questioned, confused because he had never got into any fights or misunderstandings with anyone.

“I don’t know about that, but there is something that you need to know,” said Louise, gaining his full attention. “A while ago, I thought you were here in the room with me.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing even closer than before. Louise took a deep breath, walking towards the bed and sat on the edge of it. Graham followed and came to stand in front of her.

She parted her lips to speak, “I felt it because I heard you speak and respond to me. I thought it was you,” she paused for a moment before saying, “But when I turned around, there was no one. I noticed the reflection of the decayed hands, but somewhere I worry that we might be dealing with more than one ghost. The resemblance of the voice was uncanny.”

“Did it hurt you?” asked Graham, looking at Louise, and she shook her head.

“No, thankfully no,” she replied, remembering the way its hands had circled her neck as if it was ready to squeeze the life out of her.

Graham walked around the room, moving the curtains before he closed the windows of the room. His lips set themselves in a thin line. He had asked Louise not to go anywhere alone by herself, and there had been nothing to worry about as this was his and her room.

“What did you both speak?” questioned Graham.

“I thought it was you. And I mentioned Father Edward’s visit to the manor. The cross that he had placed in here was returned to him in some strange way and I think somewhere the ghost or ghosts are angry. Father Edward even looked scared to step inside the manor,” Louise explained to him.

The ghost had not done anything to her, letting her believe that it was a good spirit. But Father Edward’s words and actions told her otherwise. It was as if it was taunting and mocking her.

Louise said, “It asked me about the portraits. Asking why I brought it out.” Did the portraits have any significant clue that she had missed? Was that why the ghost had come so close to her? Because she had brought the portraits into the light? Or did something follow her from the cellar… To know that, she would need to go back and have a look at the portraits again. She then added, “I am sorry for bringing them out.”

“You don’t have to fret about it. You are not an outsider in this family, but part of it. One of us,” replied Graham. He then said, “It is good to see them.”

While the couple were discussing in their room, at the same time, Mr. and Mrs. Reed had finished spending time in the drawing-room near the fireplace until they decided it was time to head to their bedroom. On their way in the corridor, they saw the paintings of the family that now hung in the manor’s walls. The candles burned brightly not too far away from them.

The older couple halted their footsteps and stared at the paintings. Senior Mr. Reed said in a grave tone, “Is it just me or does looking at some of these give an unsettling feeling?”

Viola stared at the family portraits with a sullen expression on her face. She looked at one of the paintings and said, “Looks like George used a low quality paint. It has come off in the middle and you want to bring in the same person to make the portraits again.”

“I have already told Gilbert to make sure to inform George to be in a decent condition when he comes here tomorrow. He’s one of the best. But as they saying goes, the talented usually lose and drown themselves in their art,” said Senior Mr. Reed, staring at the paintings that brought in the emotion of unpleasantness.

Soon the couple walked away from the paintings, heading to their room and the candles in the corridor flickered. The candles blew out, leaving darkness in the corridor.

In the morning, Louise stood in front of the large vertical window, watching the carriage that had come through the main gates of Reed’s manor. The two horses at the front of the carriage stopped at the front of the manor’s entrance.

“Looks like he is here,” commented Alison, who had just come to stand next to Louise. “Hopefully he hasn’t had any alcohol today.”

Louise’s eyes briefly moved to look at the woman before her eyes went back to look at the carriage, where the door opened, and a man stepped out of it. The man appeared to be in his late thirties.

“Was he always like this?” asked Louise. “An alcoholic?”

Alison shook her head, “No, he wasn’t. The family used to have another painter before him, but the man passed away. Illness. After that, George has been the most sought out painter. Not just in Habsburg, but also in Midville, Warlington and other places. George is the one my family goes to for painting, I think it was before my wedding. But sometime ago, he started drinking a bit too much and it caused some disapproval from the aristocratic families. He moved to live at the border of the town.”

Louise noticed the man taking a look at the walls and windows of the manor. When his eyes fell on where she and Alison stood, he offered a small bow before he was led inside the manor by Gilbert.

Louise stepped away from the window, climbing down the stairs where Graham and Robert stood talking to the painter. The man turned to look at her.

“We have already prepared the room and you can let Gilbert know if you need anything more,” said Robert to the painter.

“This must be the famous fourth mistress of Mr. Graham,” commented the painter.

Though it was true that she was the fourth mistress or wife of Graham, some people liked to address her in such fashion, and it made Louise slightly frown.

“Mr. Steward, we would appreciate it if you behave well,” warned Graham.

Louise put a smile on her face and replied to the man, “And you are the famous painter who drinks a lot. It is finally good to meet the person who has painted some of the portraits here.”

The man didn’t take offence at her words, and instead, at first, he was surprised before he smiled, “Always a pleasure. George Steward.”

Soon the family members gathered in the room, where some were made to sit, and some stood while the painter started to outline the people on the canvas. It felt as if hours passed while they continued to stay in the same position.