Before I knew about Victoria Holt, I read Phyllis A. Whitney books. I distinctly remember where her books were on the library shelf at Gail Borden Library in Elgin. Their books were similar because there was always romance, always a mystery and the books were always told from a woman’s point of view.
The blurb on the cover flap of this book reads:
I opened the door and went down the gallery steps into the hall of mirrors, into a world of confusion. A hundred candles–a thousand candles–bloomed through the long room, repeating themselves in mirrors and windows, marching without end in myriad rows that receded to the infinite….I stood lost in bewilderment, touched by fear….
SILVERHILL — a novel of romantic suspense in which Phyllis Whitney once more creates an atmosphere of shuddering mystery–of stagnant evil which lurks behind the beauty of the setting.
SILVERHILL–a gray ghost of a house brooding among its white birch trees, which seems to Mallie Rice haunted by evil reflections from the past. In its Hall of Mirrors even her cousin Gerald Gorham, curator of the fabulous Gorham collection of treasures, hardly knows reality from illusion. Yet Mallie must discover the truth the great house so mockingly conceals.
SILVERHILL–where the shadow of Grandmother Julia Gorham lies long across the lives of those forced to remain beneath its roof. Here Mallie must fight to understand Wayne Martin, the young doctor who deeply attracts her, fight to save her half-demented Aunt Arvilla, and at length fight for her very life.
SILVERHILL–marshals its mysterious forces to move against Mallie, in an attempt to destroy her love and her sanity, as Aunt Arvilla’s were destroyed so long ago.
I will likely never read this again, but I just cannot throw it away.