Thomas Faregate Birchfield Mercer and eighteen seventies silver magnate had build the house sometime around eighteen seventy-eight. Having only recently returned from the west, where he had struck it rich. The family moved into the home in eighteen eighty, and almost at once tragedy struck. A mysteries fire erupted in the middle of the night… killing a number of the families’ servants. Severally injuring Albert Brenton Faregate Mercer, Thomas Mercers only son and heir. Soon after, a mysterious young doctor came from back east to live with the family. At once dark rumors began to swirl around the household… and the Mercer’s were forced to import servants, as no local people would work at the dark house. Still over the years the Mercer house was plagued with unexplained disappearances and mysteries deaths. The in nineteen seventeen two years after the death of lady Vilonia Stanton Mercer the family line was ended completely. When a butler by the name of Andrew Jarvis Boker… supposedly went mad and slaughter the entire household. After a short trail he was declared mad, and incarcerated in the Brookveiw Insane Asylum.
The battered old Cadillac Hearst crept up the twisting over grown driveway towards the Mercer house. Marcia looked over the estates grounds as she slowly drove up to the old house. Aside from the over grown shrubbery, the yards was beginning to look pretty nice once again. Christine had revealed that her husband Daniel and his brothers. Had been working on those every weekend since they had acquired the property. She pulled her car up in front of the steps, and climbed out onto the red brick driveway. The day was bright and cloudless and the noonday shy was brilliant blue as far as the eye could see. But a strange foreboding still seemed to hang over the beautiful old Victorian manor house.