TALES FROM MORTIFER HOUSE - Part Thirteen - The Ghosts

 For a full minute Eleanor stared up at Angus, his face was contorted with anger. 'Well?' he demanded angrily, still glaring. 

Eleanor honestly had no idea what to say or how to cover her tracks, part of her wanted to confess everything, about the journal, about the strange happenings in the house that they had all experienced and what she had discovered about his father. Deep down she wanted to finish the journal, maybe get more answers, have the full facts before she did anything. Unless she saw this through it seemed unlikely they would ever get peace in Mortifer. It was becoming more obvious that the spirits were not going to rest easy any time soon. 

The wind was whipping up a storm, the promising sunrise had been replaced by darkening clouds that scudded across the sky.Angus was still towering above her, he looked so incensed that tears sprang to her eyes.  The wind caught a strand of her long hair lifting it briefly and then dropping it so it clung to her face like a vine. 

At last Angus's face softened slightly and he reached down to brush the hair away then offered his hand to help her up off the grass. She had looked particularly vulnerable, frightened almost, and he had immediately felt extreme guilt. 

She took his hand and he pulled her gently to her feet. He turned to her as they slowly walked back to the house. 

'I am still going to need an explanation. I've received the most..' he paused searching for the right way of putting it ' the most sharply toned letter from Moreton Grange about your visit, which I might add was unauthorised, on account of your forgery skills' 

Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of something, anything she could say in her defence. She didn't want to lie, but she couldn't tell the truth, not yet. She would in good time, once she had decoded the final pages and unravelled the enigma that was gripping Mortifer House. But not now. It was too soon. She knew she couldn't tell Angus everything just yet, he would be furious that she had been through his desk for a start! 

As Eleanor was about to formulate a plan of reason, a scream came from the house. A look of alarm passed between Eleanor and Angus and they both instinctively raced across the lawns. Breathless, they arrived at the kitchen door only to be greeted by Grace, pale faced and traumatised. Blood was streaming down her arm from a cut on her hand. 'I cut myself, I'm sorry' she apologised. Immediately Eleanor took her arm and muttered that she didn't need to apologise, raising the hand she quickly found a rag to stem the flow.

Eleanor took charge calming Grace, and Alice, who was crying at the sight of her sister bleeding. It was a superficial wound that soon closed but serious enough for Eleanor to realise that she had badly neglected her children throughout this entire episode. 

She silently vowed to keep a careful eye on them in the future. It was hard without a housekeeper, without any household staff she reflected. But as a mother she felt so bad. Her child had suffered a cut trying to fulfil her own role as a mother and housekeeper, attempting to get breakfast for her younger sibling. The guilt was very real.  She sat with them in the kitchen and marvelled at how they had grown almost without her realising. Tonight she would read to them, spend a little more time with the two of them to assuage her guilty conscience. 

Angus said no more about Moreton Grange and Florence. Eleanor knew it would happen at some point but she made sure she was not alone, kept herself busy and away from him. That evening he retired to his study as normal. Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief as she settled with the girls to read and then later picked up her long neglected needlework. The journal had taken up so much of her time, it was nice to return to more normal activities. 

As the light faded and Eleanor's eyes could no longer cope with needlework she picked up a book of poetry she had yet to even open. It was a surprise gift from Angus one day, totally unexpected and Eleanor guessed it may have been bought in a moment of guilt.  He often neglected her and the girls preferring the company of friends and let's face it, probably other women too. Eleanor did not like to dwell on that too much but she felt that with learning about Charles's behaviour she suspected the apple did not fall too far from the tree. 

She moved the lamp nearer to her and settled into the chair to read, her eyes closed momentarily and the book dipped into her lap with a gentle thud, the trauma of the day was catching up with her. When she came to and glanced around the room, it seemed she had only closed her eyes for a minute but the grandfather clock in the upstairs hall chimed eleven, no, twelve times.

 Springing to her feet she realised she should have been in bed long ago. If she was going to stick to her vow of spending more time with her daughters she needed to be up early to prepare breakfast.  As she carried the lamp out of the drawing room and up the stairs, conscious of each tiny creak, she wondered if tonight Angus had made it as far as the bedroom. Although she didn't particularly like sharing the bed with him something inside her longed for the safety of his company. She felt a slight pang of, what - panic? disappointment? when she saw light under the study door and she could hear movement within.  She hesitated, wondering whether to knock softly on the door and engage Angus in conversation. However she quickly continued up the stairs because she realised could not face his unanswered questions at such a late hour. 

In her bedroom Eleanor sat quietly staring out of the window, appreciating the light of the moon and the shadow of the trees beyond. She loved the huge picture window which overlooked their gardens, but it was an eerily still night and she could not shake the feeling of unease. Glancing around the room the damp and general sad state of the house was clear. The room still had a cosy air to it, Eleanor had tried her hardest to make it a haven but it was as if Mortifer was self destructing from the inside out.

She quickly undressed, behind the screen of course, she did not want Angus to catch her without clothing. This was a self consciousness she had come to accept more and more since giving birth and pretty much knowing Angus had 'encounters'  with other women. 

Slipping under the hand stitched quilt and cold white sheets Eleanor shivered, extinguished the lamp and settled down to a restless sleep. 

In the absolute dead of night, or around 3 AM to be precise judging by the chimes of the clock, a noise from the corridor outside her bedroom awoke Eleanor with a violent start. So much so that her heart was pounding. She sat bolt upright in bed, the moonlight reflecting off the white sheet that her hands were gripping with huge force. 

At first she felt she had been dreaming but then a whooshing and rustling noise confirmed she had definitely heard something. She hoped in vain that it was one of the girls or indeed Angus walking to the bathroom. As she left her bedroom, this time with nothing but a candle, she could not see anything in the empty hallway apart from her own reflection in the mirror at the end of the landing. She was completely alone, her pale face lit only by a flickering flame. She breathed out slowly only to take a sharp breath back in as she caught sight of the figure of a woman floating across the end of the hall, right in front of her eyes. The pale grey opaque figure raised a finger to her lips and shook her head at Eleanor before the most evil grin spread across her face. 

Every fibre of Eleanor's being was willing herself to run back to her bedroom and hide, but her legs had turned to stone she could not move and the breath she needed to form a scream had deserted her, resulting in a mere whimper escaping her throat.  The figure faded only to be replaced by two small children playing some sort of rhyming game, at least that was what it seemed like, although their mouths were moving no sound could be heard. The turned to fully face her and began to run towards her. 

Eleanor's legs regained their movement and she backed away from them flattening herself against the wall sliding along until she felt the cold metal of the door handle in her back through her night gown. She reached behind her, fumbling desperately to open the door which she did, just as they passed her in a whirlwind of icy coldness blowing out the candle in their wake.  

She stumbled backwards into what she desperately hoped was the safety of her room. The moonlight streamed steadily through the window, peacefully, as if nothing had happened. Eleanor scanned the room, all was quiet and as she had left it. With trembling fingers she lit a match for the lamp, it took three attempts. This was the first time she had encountered actual 'ghosts' in Mortifer, things were definitely escalating. 

Unable to sleep for the rest of the night, she sat in bed with the quilt clutched around her thinking about what to do. The solid feel of the different materials was some comfort in a world of uncertainty and sheer craziness. As the first pink rays of dawn shone through the window she was finally able to relax a little but then she noticed a strange book on the floor. Puzzled, she slipped out of bed and picked it up, she hadn't placed it there, indeed it was a book she had never seen before. She turned it over in her hands and as she did so something clattered to the floor with a metallic tinkle. It took her a minute to find the object as it had slid under her dressing table.  She felt with her hand until she grasped it and held it aloft to the growing dawn light.  It was a key and she discovered the book had been hollowed out to conceal it, but where it had come from was a complete mystery and to what door the key belonged even more so. 

Eleanor spoke out loud but quietly. 'This is all very well, but you are going to have to guide me to where this belongs' 

With that, She slipped the book and the key into the wooden trunk alongside the journal, photos and other items she had found and concealed under a layer of blankets. Then she dressed, determined to make the rest of the day as normal as possible. She was feeling the bravest she had ever felt.

Sarah Russell 2023