An avid gardener, artist, musician and writer, Emily-Jane Hills Orford has fond memories and lots of stories that evolved from a childhood growing up in a haunted Victorian mansion. Told she had a ‘vivid imagination’, the author used this talent to create stories in her head to pass tedious hours while sick, waiting in a doctor’s office, listening to a teacher drone on about something she already knew, or enduring the long, stuffy family car rides. The author lived her stories in her head, allowing her imagination to lead her into a different world, one of her own making.
As the author grew up, these stories, imaginings and fantasies took to the written form and, over the years, she developed a reputation for telling a good story. Emily-Jane can now boast that she is an award-winning author of several books, including Mrs. Murray’s Ghost (Telltale Publishing 2018), Queen Mary’s Daughter (Clean Reads 2018), Gerlinda (CFA 2016) which received an Honorable Mention in the 2016 Readers’ Favorite Book Awards, To Be a Duke (CFA 2014) which was named Finalist and Silver Medalist in the 2015 Next Generation Indie Book Awards and received an Honorable Mention in the 2015 Readers’ Favorite Book Awards and several other books. A retired teacher of music and creative writing, she writes about the extra-ordinary in life and the fantasies of dreams combined with memories.
As the author grew up, these stories, imaginings and fantasies took to the written form and, over the years, she developed a reputation for telling a good story. Emily-Jane can now boast that she is an award-winning author of several books, including Mrs. Murray’s Ghost (Telltale Publishing 2018), Queen Mary’s Daughter (Clean Reads 2018), Gerlinda (CFA 2016) which received an Honorable Mention in the 2016 Readers’ Favorite Book Awards, To Be a Duke (CFA 2014) which was named Finalist and Silver Medalist in the 2015 Next Generation Indie Book Awards and received an Honorable Mention in the 2015 Readers’ Favorite Book Awards and several other books. A retired teacher of music and creative writing, she writes about the extra-ordinary in life and the fantasies of dreams combined with memories.
There is a hidden treasure in the
grand old mansion on Piccadilly Street, in a place called London, but not the
real London of English fame. There’s also a lot of mystery and a murder that’s
been unsolved for decades. But it’s the treasure that captures Mary’s interest.
grand old mansion on Piccadilly Street, in a place called London, but not the
real London of English fame. There’s also a lot of mystery and a murder that’s
been unsolved for decades. But it’s the treasure that captures Mary’s interest.
Mary lives in this house along with her family, her Brownie friends and a
ghost. When the ghost reveals her secret about the hidden treasure, there’s no
stopping Mary, her Brownie friends, or her enemies to searching for this
treasure.
ghost. When the ghost reveals her secret about the hidden treasure, there’s no
stopping Mary, her Brownie friends, or her enemies to searching for this
treasure.
Why the intrigue? Apparently there’s a little bit of magic connected
with this treasure. And so the adventure begins.
with this treasure. And so the adventure begins.
Who will find the treasure
first?
first?
Snippet:
But this treasure
alluded her. She knew it was here, in this house, somewhere. The question was,
where? And Mrs. Murray wasn’t being any help. Not one bit.
alluded her. She knew it was here, in this house, somewhere. The question was,
where? And Mrs. Murray wasn’t being any help. Not one bit.
Mary let out a
deeply pent up sigh. “You must remember something! When was the last time you
held the jewellery in your hands? Did you ever wear the ring? Or the necklace?
Or both?”
deeply pent up sigh. “You must remember something! When was the last time you
held the jewellery in your hands? Did you ever wear the ring? Or the necklace?
Or both?”
“Oh yes!” Mrs.
Murray beamed, if a ghost could beam through its shimmering effervescence. Even
her eyes glistened, sparkled really, as the memories started to wash over her.
“I wore it as a teenager. Only briefly. My grandmother gave it to me when I
turned sixteen. She said it was very special, full of magic. I didn’t believe
her then. I didn’t believe in magic. You see, I hadn’t met Brunny and Pelly
yet. They were connected to my grandmother until she died, which was only days
after she gave me the jewels. Very sad. She was so strong and healthy. It was
as if some horrible curse took her away. That’s what Brunny said when he first
appeared to me. Both my grandmother and Brunny insisted I take special care of
the jewels. And certainly not wear them around for the world to see. Such a
shame, really. They are beautiful. Were beautiful. Are beautiful. I don’t know
which, past or present. Do they even still exist? I don’t remember the last
time I saw the necklace. It must have been before I left Scotland. Perhaps it
is still there. Perhaps I misplaced it. I don’t really know. But the ring is
here. Somewhere. If it still exists.”
Murray beamed, if a ghost could beam through its shimmering effervescence. Even
her eyes glistened, sparkled really, as the memories started to wash over her.
“I wore it as a teenager. Only briefly. My grandmother gave it to me when I
turned sixteen. She said it was very special, full of magic. I didn’t believe
her then. I didn’t believe in magic. You see, I hadn’t met Brunny and Pelly
yet. They were connected to my grandmother until she died, which was only days
after she gave me the jewels. Very sad. She was so strong and healthy. It was
as if some horrible curse took her away. That’s what Brunny said when he first
appeared to me. Both my grandmother and Brunny insisted I take special care of
the jewels. And certainly not wear them around for the world to see. Such a
shame, really. They are beautiful. Were beautiful. Are beautiful. I don’t know
which, past or present. Do they even still exist? I don’t remember the last
time I saw the necklace. It must have been before I left Scotland. Perhaps it
is still there. Perhaps I misplaced it. I don’t really know. But the ring is
here. Somewhere. If it still exists.”
“Oh, it exists
all right.” Mary dropped her legs over the side of the bed. “Maybe if we wander
the house together, you might remember and I might sense something.”
all right.” Mary dropped her legs over the side of the bed. “Maybe if we wander
the house together, you might remember and I might sense something.”
“What if we wake
your family?”
your family?”
“I’ll pretend I’m
sleepwalking,” Mary chuckled softly. “I do that enough anyway. They’ll believe
it. Besides. Everyone’s exhausted. They’re out for the night. Like Dad will say
in the morning, sleeping like a log.”
sleepwalking,” Mary chuckled softly. “I do that enough anyway. They’ll believe
it. Besides. Everyone’s exhausted. They’re out for the night. Like Dad will say
in the morning, sleeping like a log.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Where are the
Brownies? I hope Elizabeth hasn’t poisoned them again.”
Brownies? I hope Elizabeth hasn’t poisoned them again.”
“In which case, we shall be extra vigilant as she may be watching
our every move.” Mary didn’t say it out loud, but she had decided it might be
best to just sense a location of the treasure and then go looking for it in
daylight, at a time when she was sure Elizabeth wasn’t snooping.
our every move.” Mary didn’t say it out loud, but she had decided it might be
best to just sense a location of the treasure and then go looking for it in
daylight, at a time when she was sure Elizabeth wasn’t snooping.