Something was different. Edward Gracey wasn't sure what it was, but he just knew. He hadn't left the attic since he had hung himself out of grief, preferring to lock himself away with the reminders of Elizabeth. He spent every day for the last hundred or so years staring at her portrait, trying to discover what he had done that warranted her to leave him. He blamed himself then and he blamed himself now. No matter how much Ezra and Emma begged him to come out, he refused to budge. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Emma and Ezra came and told him what had happened. Normally, Ramsley would have done this, but he had vanished soon after Elizabeth had left.

Right on cue, Ezra and Emma appeared, looking a tad anxious.

"What has changed? I feel that something is different in the mansion."

"Well, uh, you see, there's been a new development!" Ezra stated, trying to think of the best way to tell the master that his home had been bought.

"Oh, Ezra, really!" Emma sighed, deciding to get right to the point. "Master Gracey, a young woman has bought the house! She's started fixing it up."

"Someone has bought my home? I want you to keep an eye on her and make sure she stays out of here. Drive her off if you can or don't, it doesn't matter to me, so long as she stays away from here and me. Now leave me." Edward turned away from them and disappeared further into the attic.

"Well, you heard him. We have to scare her off." Ezra sounded a bit too happy about the idea as he and Emma left.

"Oh Ezra, I don't know. She seems so sweet and she's doing a wonderful job with the house. Maybe having someone living will bring a nice change."

"I still don't like it! Besides, the master wants her gone."

"He also said keep an eye on her and we don't have to drive her away. Besides, I don't think she's going to be scared of us. She didn't run off when we made that sound when she first came like it scared off her mother and that man. Why don't we just wait and see what she does and if she's a threat, we'll drive her off."

"Alright, you win. But I still don't like it!"

"Of course, dear."

Something was strange about the house. Emmaline had only been there a week and she began to notice things. Objects weren't where she left them and she was starting to find rooms already cleaned for her, bedding washed. If she left laundry in her basket, she'd find it a few hours later in her wardrobe, freshly laundered. That wasn't the only thing. After only two days of eating takeout, Emmaline found meals already prepared for her, still hot and waiting whenever she wandered down for food. Apparently whatever was in the house had gotten tired of her eating out. She was a little wary at first, but decided it wasn't worth angering whatever was taking the time to cook for her and ate all her meals in the grand ballroom at the end of the front hall past the armory.

Whenever she explored, she'd find an old lantern and matches waiting for her if she went somewhere the warm light of the sun couldn't reach. She also felt invisible hands turning her away from the attic. Clearly she wasn't meant to go up there, which just made her all the more curious.

The more time she spent there, the more she began to discern differences in the two main otherworldly prescences she shared a home with, that is, the two she could feel. One was a woman as she often picked up the rustling of skirts and this one always seemed to fuss if something was out of place or she wasn't eating. The other one was male and much more expaserated with her. Often than not, she'd find something that was clearly placed to frighten her or she was turned away from a more secluded part of the house. Whoever they were, they were looking out for her. In some strange sort of way, she was glad for the company. Her mother had refused to set foot back in the mansion and Emmaline's friends were all too busy to come visit. She wasn't phased by the idea of sharing her home with ghosts, being a firm believer in the supernatural and so long as they were nice and she didn't upset them, then what did she have to fear?

After about a month living in the house, Emmaline and her two ghostly friends managed to rid the manor of the dead vines and clean up the ground floor of the house. Emmaline had yet to try her luck out in the cemetery. She didn't want to disturb the graves, but she knew she had to possibly scrap most of what was in the front yard and start anew. Her friends had also called and promised to come and see her, two of which were in landscaping, another in construction and her best friend Charlotte was in home decor. They all offered to help her out with the house, something she was grateful for.

But for now, she was determined to explore and neither of her ghostly companions were going to turn her away from where she wanted to go. She had to plan it all very carefully. She stopped trying to get into the attic, lulling her phantom watchers she had given up. She kept this up for another month and one day got dressed, paying careful attention to her appearance, brushing out her hair so it fell down her back in waves and curls, tying the sides back with a blue ribbon, dressing in a matching sundress, doing her makeup so it was light and natural. She heard the female ghost bustling around, clearly happy she was dressing up and possibly going out as the ghost helped fix her hair, tucking a sprig of Forget-Me-Nots over her ear.

She left the house once she was finished and got in her car, driving out of sight. Once she was far enough away, she parked the car and carefully made her way back to the mansion and to the back of the house, where a rose trellis was fastened that led right up to her room. She carefully began to climb, alert to any creak or crack that might turn out to be something breaking and causing her to fall to her death. She didn't plan on dying just yet. The phrase 'Curiosity killed the cat' played in her mind but 'Satisfaction brought it back.' She could just hear her mother yelling at her to get down before she broke something, possibly her neck. But, Emmaline was a girl on a mission and she was stubborn to a fault, something that often got her in trouble.

But she wouldn't be deterred and made it over the balcony into her room, cautiously poking her head out into the hallway. She heard and felt nothing, no coldness to signal that one or both of her ghostly companions were near. Emboldened by this, she fetched a lantern and matches she had carefully hidden and headed for the attic, keeping careful watch on her surroundings. She encountered no obstacles and made it up to the attic, where another problem faced her. She was without a key and had no idea where one would be. But, that wasn't going to stop her. She pulled out a hair pin and inserted it into the lock, trying to be as silent as possible. Her father taught her how to pick a lock, though, it had been more for the unlikely situation she was ever locked in somewhere and needed to escape. She was sure he'd understand if he saw her now.

She grinned as the lock clicked and she could open the door. She did so slowly, hoping nothing would jump out at her. Nothing did, but a rush of stale and cold air rushed out the door to greet her, carrying with it the scent of something that had died but was removed, the faint scent of death lingering still. Was this where the master of the house had hung himself out of despair for his lost love? It was tragic, yet romantic in a way.

She had read up on the house and the previous owner had been in love with a woman who had been unsuited for him due to her lower class. But against the wishes of his family and advice of his friends, he had loved her so greatly and planned to marry her. But then, she had disappeared one night, leaving behind a note saying that she chose death over an eternity with him. The master had gone mad and in the depths of his despair, he had hung himself, unable to live a single day more without his beloved. How romantic was it, that he loved her so that he was willing to die so as to be reunited with his lost love. But... The story didn't make complete sense to her. Why would the woman kill herself is she supposedly loved the master of the house as much as he loved her? She had been given everything, a man who was devoted to her, even after her death.

Inside the attic were countless items, hinting at times gone past, coated in dust. She wandered through in awe, hardly daring to touch anything. A dress shrouded in a black veil caught her eye and she carefully removed the shroud to get a better look. It was truly a beautiful dress and she felt envious over the woman who had the chance to wear it. Everything in the house had become hers, so that meant the dress too. Perhaps, when she was fully finished renovating the mansion, she'd hold a grand ball and wear this dress. She reached out to touch it, but gasped when a hand grasped her throat and dragged her back, choking her.

Edward glared at the insolent girl who had dared to enter the attic and nearly touch what should have been his beloved Elizabeth's wedding dress. Fury welled up within him and overtook his senses, deaf to the choked pleading of the woman in his grasp, immune to her tears. He felt himself rise up to the very tower he had hung himself from and threw her away from him. There was the sound of shattering glass and a short scream before a sickening thud. Edward returned to his senses and looked out the window, gasping in horror at the broken form of the girl lying sprawled on the ground below. What had he done? He had never laid hand on a woman in a violent manner before. He fled the attic, disappearing into the crypt, to be alone with the horror of what he had done. There was no hope for him now, he had doomed an innocent soul to damnation

Emmaline gasped as her eyes flew open and her lungs took in air. She tried to recall what had happened. There had been a dress, and then a man who looked at her in rage. She recalled flying up, the sound of broken glass before falling, everything going black after that. She sat up, a little disoriented.

"Oh my goodness!" A woman's voice reached her ears and she turned to see an older woman dressed in an old fashioned maid dress bustling towards her, an older man following behind her. The woman knelt down and helped her to stand. "Are you alright?"

"I think so... I'm not sure. I feel strange." She looked up at the attic and saw the broken window. "I fell?"

The man and woman exchanged glances before the woman wrapped an arm around her. "Come along, we'll get you cleaned up and into bed. You've had a long day."

Something was wrong, she could feel it, rather, she felt wrong. "But I fell, I should be dead, or at least have broken something." She turned to look behind her as she was led away, despite their efforts and screamed in horror. Her body was lying there, broken and bloody with shards of glass in her skin, her eyes wide and glassy. She was dead.