TALES FROM MORTIFER HOUSE - Part Five - More Mystery for Eleanor

Eleanor crept past the study door cursing under her breath at how creaky the floorboards were on the second landing. She liked to make it to bed without waking Angus, knowing that he was probably fast asleep in his chair or slumped across his desk with one of his many books open and a half filled glass of mead. 

In the glow of the table lamp the portraits looked down on her mockingly. Some of the ancestors were long gone, some were still around. She knew for instance that Florence Mortifer had been institutionalised in an asylum when she was quite young, it was never clear why, and Eleanor knew she was still alive. All Angus ever said was that she was mad and wouldn't elaborate further than that. He did however, occasionally visit her on what Eleanor assumed was her birthday and also at Christmas and the odd visit in between. She had no idea what age she was but guessed she was fairly old, it was just something never discussed. 

She often looked at those faces she passed on a daily basis, wondered if Sir Edward Mortifer had been murdered on his shooting expedition he never returned from and if so, who had done that. 

Reverend James Mortifer had travelled to Africa to spread the word of God and after a few short letters on his journey no one had ever heard from him again.

 It was as if the very name Mortifer had been gripped by a curse of tragedy, death and destruction. Eleanor didn't know if she believed in curses or ghosts, although her recent experiences had shaken her to the core. She knew that SOMETHING was going on within the house and somehow she needed to piece together what had triggered it. 

Although she was afraid, she didn't fear for her life. Perhaps the fact that she was a Mortifer by marriage made her feel that whatever the entity was within the house it didn't mean her harm it just needed help. Needed the truth to be discovered. 

Angus coughed in the study and muttered something inaudible. Eleanor held her breath as she continued up the hall, again cursing every creak. 

She made it safely to the haven of her bedroom. She thought of it as hers because she and Angus so rarely shared it and it was the one room she had tried very hard to keep looking nice despite the terrible state of the rest of the house. Her garden room although ordered and tidy still had mould on the walls and a terrible feeling of damp. Here in the bedroom with its cosy fire and comfortable bed she had made a little nest for herself. She had never once felt threatened in there and it seemed that whatever was in the fabric of the rest of the house had not invaded her privacy here. Well at least not yet...

The following day Angus went out on one of his many 'business' trips. Business being a very loose term indeed as it usually involved raucous behaviour in some hostelry in town and often meant he was very late home, if he even came home. To be honest Eleanor preferred it that way, at least he was leaving her alone. 

Eleanor decided to take matters into her own hands and try and fix the loose and creaking floorboards to help aid her safe passage at night. She knew there were hammers and nails in the outhouse so she went out to find what she needed. 

Ordinarily she hated the outhouse, in the days of servants no one in the house would have been expected to even set foot inside it. But now, with desperation driving her, Eleanor found herself in its dank and unwelcoming interior. 

The door creaked slightly behind her as she entered and her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. Daylight was barely able to penetrate the dirty and vine covered windows but she could make out the sets of wooden drawers that hopefully contained what she needed.  She opened the first drawer, nothing but a solitary tin of rusty picture nails, dust and to her disgust, mouse droppings. 

Eleanor wrinkled her nose and shut the drawer really quickly. The second drawer was slightly more successful, some woodworking tools and a hammer. The third drawer contained what was clearly a mouse nest judging by the shredded newspaper and little bits of some kind of cotton material balled into the corner. 

The final drawer contained an assortment of nails and screws and she selected some large flat headed nails that looked as if they were up to the job.  A long legged spider scuttled over her hand as she took the nails and she almost dropped them letting out a startled cry. She shivered, she had had quite enough of the outhouse delights for one day. 

Back on the landing Eleanor moved the heavy table that was on the rug and peeled it back to inspect the floor. There were a lot of the nails that had either broken or needed tapping back in. There were quite big gaps between the boards there wasn't much she could do about that but it appeared that the creakiness had more to do with the boards being loose and not nailed down properly than anything else. 

She set to work then stood up and tested the floor shifting from foot to foot, it seemed much better, far less creaking noise than before.  She carefully looked around stepping on each area until all the loose boards were fixed as best as she could.   

Satisfied that she had done a reasonable job Eleanor pulled the rug back into place, noticing that it had definitely seen better days. It had been in the house for many years and had never been moved in all the time that Eleanor had lived there. She hated to think of how much dust and dirt it was harbouring but the thought of getting it outside and using a carpet beater on it did not fill her with joy. 

It was, on reflection, a very good quality wool rug that had clearly cost a pretty penny in its day. But it's day had passed many moons ago. The pattern had faded to a blur in places from the passage of many feet over time. 

As she moved the rug she caught it on a raised nail she had clearly missed, ripping the hessian backing. Eleanor pulled a face, and wondered if she would be able to darn the ends back in. It was as she looked at it she suddenly realised there was paper stuffed inside the rug. At first she thought it was some extra layer of backing between the rug and the hessian but as she pulled at the 'backing' she could see that it was several sheets of paper. 

At first she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing. There were seven missing person posters for Stitchy. She glanced up almost guiltily at the portrait of Stitchy in his costume as if she expected him to be glaring at her as she read them, but his expression of course was unchanged. 

She read one of the more legible posters : Missing, Stitchy, reward for information. Last seen June 24th in Eastington Gloucestershire at around 7pm. A travelling entertainer by trade. Contact Eastington constabulary. 

 Dust and dirt made a thick layer on the paper, it was hard to read the wording. The posters had clearly been there for some time. She shook the dust off and sneezed as it hit the back of her nose. Eleanor knew it was a long time given that he had gone missing when Angus and Jane had been young. She checked the lining again, there were two further pieces of paper. A letter, which had been rendered pretty much illegible as it had clearly been exposed to water at some point in the past. The other paper was a page from a journal and it was written entirely in code. 

The illegible letter started with the words 'The darkest secrets' - the only discernible part of the water obliterated hand written note. Eleanor stared in frustration at the posters, the letter and the coded journal page. She only seemed to uncover more mystery rather than solving anything. 

The sound of the front door slamming brought Eleanor sharply to her senses, at first she panicked thinking Angus was home but instead she heard Alice and Grace calling her from the downstairs hall, she had forgotten they were out playing. Hastily she stuffed the papers back from where they had come and stood up, running her foot along to smooth the rug down as Alice flew up the stairs and flung herself at her skirts. 

This would require more investigation and even as she smoothed Alice's ruffled hair she was wondering if Angus had any books about codes in his study, otherwise she was going to have to look for outside help.  

Sarah Russell 2022