Destitute Emmi Sanders came south from Boston after the death of her father. She's been hired as a companion and nurse to an older gentleman. She thinks of herself as little more than a servant and is shocked when her employer treats her as a guest.
That's not the only strange thing about this house. Harmful things begin to happen to her, and the female cousin to the old man tells her not to trust any of the men in the house. Someone is trying to force her to leave. Emmi must decide who wants her gone and why. Suspicion points to her employer, a man she finds attractive, a man who warms her heart, a man she is sure she could learn to love. But, is he the one who wants her gone? And, if she leaves her post, will her heart stay behind?
April, 1858
Without warning, the coach rumbled to a stop. What little composure I had left crumbled in fear. The rapid cadence of my beating heart pounded through my body, and I wanted nothing more than to scream at the driver to move on.
"This here's yer stop, Missy," he shouted at me as he opened the door and offered his hand. "Sure ya don't want to change yer mind?"
I took a deep breath, swallowed my anxiety and stepped to the ground. I shook my head and gazed at the somber expression of the driver. Was he trying to send me a message?
"Is something wrong with Hanson Hall?" I whispered, terrified he would answer yes.
As he strode to the back of the carriage, he stated over his shoulder, "Ain't something I know for sure, ya understands. Just that this place has a lot of secrets. Not what ya'd call a happy place."
I shivered with apprehension and stood quietly waiting for my bag. I couldn't tell the little man this house and the employment offered here were all I had.
He handed me my valise, opened his mouth then closed it, obviously deciding to say nothing more. I grabbed the handle as he wished me good luck, then mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, you need it.
He climbed to the driver's seat, took the reins in his hands and clucked to his horses. I stood waiting at the side of the road, because the coach blocked my view of the house. Suddenly I was not at all sure I wanted a first glimpse of Hanson Hall.
When coach and four pulled away, I raised my head and stared at the red brick dwelling at the end of the lane. My heart dropped to the ground and I felt the air rush from my chest. The sight before me reminded me of the description of Hades.
Thirteen windows faced the road, six on the first floor and seven on the second floor and in the late afternoon sun they appeared red, blood red, as if the liquid of life covered the glass. I stared in horror at what looked like the opening of a black cavern.
I turned away from the house and stared at the dust marking the departure of the coach. I wanted desperately to run after the coach and beg the driver to take me wherever he was going.
Another glance at the house did nothing to reassure me. The house seemed to stand alone. I saw nothing to the north or to the south, no neighbors at all. The front facade with its pitched roof and twin chimneys gave no impression of warmth. Two dormers crowned the front of the roof and looked as ominous as the front door, black and chilling.
I cringed and fought the temptation to run. This indeed was the last place I wanted to be, isolated, a house full of secrets and the appearance of an invitation to a hell on earth.
