The Bride's Secret

I do not own Haunted Mansion.


What really happened to Emily, the bride in the attic? This is her story.

Emily pouted, slouched over in the carriage that was taking her to her betrothed's mansion. She had rebelled every way imaginable to worm her way out of the forced marriage.

But her adopted parents had firmly dug in their heels and flat out told her that she was going to marry Master Henry Ravenswood. They had TOLD her- sixteen year old Emily Rose Alder, the only girl in the small town of Mystic Hills to wear trousers and ride her horse astride like a man- that she was going to marry a man that she had never met.

Emily made a sound of annoyance as she slumped down even more into the seat, causing her handmaid, Missy, to look up from her stitching.

"Missy Josephina, if yew kept doing tat, ten yewr dress will be a mese by the time we irrive et Masser Ravvenswod's maner, and ten I shall be switched!" Emily winced as she remembered cleaning and bandaging her best friend's open whip marks that her "father" would often scar her with.

Emily winced and sat up straight. She loved her only friend- they were siters bllod. Emily could not count the number of times that her friend had covered for her strange disappearances and taken the blame for not keeping a close eye on her mistress.

"Missy, you know you're not allowed to call me by my birth name." Emily placed her tiny, callused hand on top of Missy's own hand.

Missy blushed. "I- I- I'm s-s-s-s-sorry, mit- mit- mistress! I- I for-for-forgot a-again!" the poor servant stammered, wringing her hands.

Emily laughed. "Missy, I'm just saying- you can call me that in privet, but when we get to the manor, we'll have to watch our steps carefully. If Ravenwood should ever learn of my true bloodline, then who knows what will be?"