The next morning, sunlight poured through the manor's windows, dispelling the night's lingering shadows. But the unease remained, gnawing at Sophia's thoughts.
"I need to see the archives," she said as she sipped her coffee in the kitchen. "There has to be more about Eleanor and her family. If we can piece together what happened, maybe we can figure out why the past refuses to stay buried."
Liam nodded. "I'll drive. The town library has records dating back to the 1800s. If anyone documented the Harringtons' secrets, it'll be there."
The library's historical archives were tucked away in a dimly lit basement, filled with rows of filing cabinets and dusty shelves. Sophia and Liam split up, each diving into the wealth of old newspapers, letters, and legal documents.
Hours passed as they unearthed fragments of the Harringtons' lives. It wasn't until Sophia found a marriage license that her heart skipped a beat.
"Liam," she called, waving him over.
He leaned over her shoulder, scanning the document. "Eleanor Harrington and… Robert Beaumont?"
Sophia's brow furrowed. "It's dated 1864. That's after James's last letter."
"She married someone else," Liam said, his tone heavy with disappointment. "But why? Was it forced?"
Sophia shook her head. "I don't think so. Look at this." She held up another document, a death certificate.
"James Hawthorne," Liam read aloud. "Died 1863. Cause of death: unknown."
Sophia's throat tightened. "He died before Eleanor married Robert. That changes everything. Maybe she married him out of grief or necessity."
"But how did James die?" Liam asked. "Unknown isn't much of an answer."
Sophia searched through more records, finally uncovering an old newspaper article. She read it aloud:
> Local man James Hawthorne found dead near Lake Hartwood. Authorities suspect foul play, but no arrests have been made.
Liam leaned closer, his jaw tightening. "Foul play? Who would want him dead?"
Sophia's mind raced. "Eleanor's family. If they intercepted his letters, they might have seen him as a threat to their plans for her future."
As they pieced together the fragments of the story, a clearer picture began to emerge. James and Eleanor's love had been doomed from the start, torn apart by forces beyond their control.
But one question lingered: who—or what—was haunting the manor now?
Back at the manor, Sophia pored over the new information while Liam prepared a late dinner. The weight of their discoveries hung heavy between them.
"Do you think Eleanor ever found out the truth?" Liam asked as they sat down to eat.
Sophia shook her head. "I don't know. But something tells me she never stopped loving James. That kind of love doesn't just disappear."
Liam studied her for a moment, his gaze soft. "You're right. It doesn't."
The intensity of his words made Sophia's cheeks flush. She looked away, her heart racing.
Before either of them could speak, a loud crash echoed from the west wing.
They rushed to the source of the noise, finding the study in disarray. Papers were scattered across the floor, and the portrait of Eleanor that hung above the fireplace had fallen, its glass shattered.
Sophia picked up the fallen painting, her hands shaking. Behind it, carved into the wall, was a single word: Why?
The air in the room grew colder, and a soft sob echoed around them.
Sophia turned to Liam, her voice barely audible. "She's still here."
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