Ann Martin - Kristy And The Haunted Mansion

"Sometimes people see a woman walking around, and they say it's the ghost of a woman who died here," Jackie added. His face was white.

My heart was beating fast, and I knew I should jump in before Jackie said anything else. "I'm sure those stories are nothing more than tales people made up for fun," I said firmly. "After all, there are no such things as ghosts." At least, I thought to myself, I sure hope there aren't.

Chapter 7.

"Kristy's right,” said Bart. "Ghosts just don't exist, except in stories."

"But — " said Jackie.

"Hey," said Bart, interrupting him. "Let's finish exploring the house, okay?"

"Yeah," said Buddy. "I want to go up those twisty stairs at the end of the hall."

"Me, too," said Joey.

"I want to go back to Dorothy's room," said Karen.

"Dorothy's room?" I asked.

"The one where her picture is hanging," said Karen. "I want to explore it more."

"So do I," said Patty.

"All right." I was happy to notice that the kids didn't seem to have been scared by Jackie's stories. Of course, I knew that the house couldn't be haunted, so I wasn't scared, either. Not too scared, anyway. "Bart, why don't you and Charlie take the boys upstairs? Patty and

Karen and I will be in Dorothy's room."

The boys took off down the hall, and I led the girls back to the room with pink and white wallpaper. It really was a pretty room. A lacy white canopy was draped over the bed, and a needlepoint rug with roses all over it was on the floor. Karen ran to a bookcase that was built into a comfortable-looking window seat. "I bet Dorothy read these books all the time," she said. "She probably sat right here, looking out the window." She ran her finger down the row of books. "No Beezus and Ramona," she said.

I laughed. "Those books probably weren't even published when Dorothy lived here," I said. "But look." I pulled out a book. "Here's Little Women. It looks like this was one of her favorites. See how the pages are all turned down, as if she had marked them?" "Neat," said Karen.

Patty had been looking around the rest of the room. "Look what I found in the drawer of her nightstand," she said. She held out her hand. In it lay a heart-shaped silver locket and a little golden key.

I felt weird about snooping around this girl's room. Even if she hadn't lived in the house for years and years, she still deserved some privacy. That was what kept me from trying to pry open the locket. "Pretty," I said. "Better

put those things back, though." I glanced up at Dorothy's picture. She seemed to be smiling at me.

"Whoa, whoa," said Karen. "Look what I found!" She held up a leather-bound book. "It was behind the rest of the books. I guess that was her hiding place for it."

I took a look at the book Karen held. In gold letters that were stamped into the red cover, it said, My Diary. "Karen, put that back!" I said. "You can't read someone else's diary."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," said Karen. "It's locked." She showed me the tiny padlock that held it shut.

Patty ran to her. "Do you think this key will open it?" she asked, showing Karen the little gold key. Karen took the key and stuck it into the lock, and the book fell open.

Just then, I heard a loud bang, as if a door had slammed shut. We jumped, and Karen glanced up at me with a questioning look in her eyes. "Must have been the boys," I said. I didn't mention that the sound seemed to have come from downstairs instead of upstairs, where the boys had gone. I shivered, and rubbed my arms as if to warm myself. Karen had already gone back to the diary.

"She wrote this when she was eighteen," said Karen, peering at the first page. "And the date is January first, nineteen thirty-five."

"Karen, don't — "I began, but it was too late. I was already hooked. I knew it was wrong to read someone's diary, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. It'll be a history lesson, I thought, trying to justify our snooping.

"Can I use that flashlight, Kristy?" asked Karen. "This old-fashioned writing is hard to read. Maybe a little more light would help."

I gave her the flashlight, and Patty and I leaned over Karen's shoulder as she read the first page. " 'New Year's Day, nineteen thirty-five/ " she read. " 'What an exciting time this is! President Roosevelt says the country will be back on its feet soon, and the Depression won't last much longer." Karen stumbled over a few words. "You read it, Kristy," she said. "This handwriting is weird and there are a lot of big words."

She handed me the diary. Hesitantly at first, I began to read out loud. " 'Thank goodness Papa managed to avoid losing all his money and we are able to live the way we have always lived. I am grateful for that, but Papa doesn't understand that money isn't everything to me. I would give it all up — and I shall give it all up — to marry W. That is, if he ever proposes. I thought he might last night, when we were at the New Year's Ball, but he did not. I know he loves me, I know it!' "

Karen sighed. "This is so romantic."

"Keep going," said Patty.

"Wait a second." I held up a finger. I had thought I'd heard a strange sound, like — like someone crying. But when I listened more closely, I didn't hear a thing. I decided it must have been the wind. "Okay, here goes," I said. Suddenly I couldn't wait to find out what would happen next. I was getting used to the handwriting, so I began reading faster.

"The next entry is on February fifteenth," I said. "The day after Valentine's Day. And listen to this: 'Will proposed last night, over dinner at the hotel. He was so sweet and loving, and of course I accepted. I haven't told Papa yet, though. I just know he'll disapprove. He doesn't think Will is good enough for me. For that matter, he doesn't think anyone is good enough for me. Papa loves me, I know that, but sometimes his love is just a little stifling. If only Mama were alive, to balance everything out.' "

I thought of Mary Anne. It sounded as if she and Dorothy had a lot in common.

I kept reading. " 'I do love Will, and I plan to marry him with or without Papa's permission. But part of me wonders if it’s the right thing to do. If I marry Will — I mean when I do — I'll move from my father's house to his.

Shall I ever be able to do all the things I've dreamed of doing, such as touring Europe and visiting exotic lands? Or will I live out my life as first someone's daughter and then as someone's wife?' "

I paused. "She sounds pretty neat," Karen said. "I wonder if she got to do those things." "Let's keep reading," I said. "Maybe we'll find out."

I found many entries about Will, but a lot about the other things Dorothy wanted to do, too. Still, she and Will continued to plan their marriage.

" 'Friday, June first,' " I read. " 'A week from now, Will and I will be married. Papa, as I guessed he would do, has forbidden me to marry Will, so we have decided to elope. We will do it on June eighth. The plan is for Will to tell Papa that he is taking me out for dinner. But instead of going to the hotel, we will drive to Maryland, where it is easier to get married without a parent's permission. I am excited and anxious and happy and sad — all at the same time.' "

Karen looked up at me and grinned. "They're going to do it!" she said.

"How romantic," added Patty.

"Wow," I said. "I can't wait to hear how it turned out."

I turned the page. " ‘Thursday, June seventh,’ " I read. " 'Tomorrow is the big day! I've packed a small suitcase and hidden it in the bushes. I've also written a note to Papa, explaining my actions and telling him that I will always love him, even though I have disobeyed him. I only hope he understands. And I hope Will understands that I do not want to live a housewife's life. We have argued about this many times, but I think and hope that he is beginning to see that I'm serious about this. Well, tomorrow night I will be Mrs. William Blackburn. My new life begins in twenty-four hours.' "