Trying to find whatever the ghost had wanted me to see in this attic would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. An impossible task. A spider scurried across my bare foot and I yelped, shaking it off. I lost my balance and tumbled into a pile of old blankets. Bugs scurried out in every direction and I jumped up frantically trying to dust them off me.
My phone rang and I almost fell back into the bug covered blankets again. I regretted my ringtone a little at that moment. I don’t know what I could possibly have been thinking when I chose the theme song to The Shining. I had always loved Stephen King, but the music almost made me faint as the bugs danced over my bare feet.
“Crap,” I muttered to myself as I juggled my cell phone. I answered my phone with a grumbling hello.
“How’d it go?” It was Helen. Of course, it was Helen. “Did you go to dinner with Edward?”
“I did,” I said as I stared at the most disturbing stuffed bunny I had ever seen. Who’d made these children’s toys? They looked like they were made by the same guy who designed Chucky.
“Well? Tell me everything!” she said.
“You know, for someone who acts like a rebel and a punk, you really are an incurable romantic,” I commented.
“Hey! I resent that.” She paused for a minute. “No. That is definitely true and I don’t resent it at all. I want you to be happy like Jake and I are happy. I’m tired of seeing you alone with nothing but a book to keep you company. I have never seen you light up for anything the way you light up when I mention Edward.”
Something fell over in the distance. A thud echoed throughout the attic. I turned to find the noise. A bird had found its way into the room and it sat perched on an old bit of armor. I didn’t know my ornithology, but it looked like a raven or a crow. The raven looked at me and cawed and then it flew toward the back of the attic. I followed the bird into the darkness.
“Are you listening to me?” Helen’s voice seemed a thousand miles away.
“Yes, how are you and Jake doing?” I asked.
The raven had flown to the back of the attic where a large wooden chest sat buried beneath a pile of ancient clothes. It flew up to the rafters above me and watched as I pushed the old clothes off the chest. I could hear Helen talking on the other end of the line, but I couldn’t focus on her words. I dropped the phone. One lonely window sat above the old chest, casting just enough light for me to see. I opened the chest, carefully. It was so old I was afraid it would turn to dust in my hands. The hinges moaned and the chest revealed mountains of letters tied together with ribbons. I looked up, but the bird was gone. It had flown away. This is what I was meant to find. I knew it. I looked around and found an old bag, filled it with the letters, and closed the chest. I grabbed my phone and scampered out of the attic, coughing as I went.
Chapter 18
The moon is dark, and the gods dance in the night; there is terror in the sky, for upon the moon hath sunk an eclipse foretold in no books of men or of earth’s gods.
~ H.P. Lovecraft
I SHUT THE ATTIC DOOR and ran down the hall just in time to bump into Edward. I slammed into him at such a velocity that I knocked myself off my feet. He caught me and helped me back up. I was breathless and feeling more than a little guilty about going someplace I knew I wasn’t meant to be, so I just looked down at my feet and tried to avoid his gaze. I was filthy. Cobwebs were caught in my hair and my shirt was covered in dust. I knew I must have looked awful. I just wanted to get back to my room to hide the letters and take a shower.
“Did you decide to dust the guest rooms with your body?” Edward asked as he looked me up and down.
“No. I just got lost and fell down. It’s a big house, you know? It’s easy to get lost. I have to go shower.” I turned and sprinted back to my room, slamming the door behind me. I locked the door and emptied my sack of letters onto the bed.
The letters were like a treasure to me. They weren’t just treasure because of the ghost or because they were some kind of proof of the supernatural—although these things would have made them treasure enough—they were precious because my little geek mind loved the mystery of it all. These were first-hand accounts from a long dead time. They were real history. I was thrilled. I picked up the first stack of letters and carefully untied the old red ribbon that held them together. My hands shook as I undid the ribbon. I didn’t even care that I was dirty anymore. I just wanted to know what was inside.
I took the first letter off the top of the stack. The paper was so old and so frail, I had to be careful to prevent it from crumbling. The ink was faded and the edges of the parchment were torn and tattered. I could barely read the words, but there was just enough ink left on the page for me to make them out.
August 12, 1692
My Beloved,
How I long to see you. My days are nothing but darkness without your embrace. Time travels like a ship, set out to drift upon a windless ocean when you are away from me. Every night I fall to my knees and pray for your safe return. I pray you will return to my arms. As our wedding night draws closer, I am left only to dream of what joy I will find in the bliss of our wedding bed. My heart races with radiant joy to imagine what life will be like when I am your wife. Return to me quickly, my beloved, and put my suffering to an end. I can’t bear another night without you.
Forever yours,
Liliana Lowood
I set the letter down, gingerly. I would have to do some research on how to preserve old paper. I would have to find out how to keep the letters safe so that I wouldn’t be the only one to read them. The letters belonged in a museum. I smiled and brushed my fingers across the paper. I looked at the mountain of letters that were scattered across my bed. I was sure they would reveal a love story. Helen would be thrilled.
I suddenly realized that my phone had been ringing. I didn’t know how long it had been ringing. I had been in a kind of trance. I picked up my phone and put it to my ear.
“What the hell? You hung up on me?” It was Helen again.
“Will you help me with a project?” I asked.
“What now? We were talking about Edward? What happened with Edward?”
I sighed. “You know I’m terrible with guys. I think I did everything wrong. He was wonderful. He held my hand and maybe he even wanted to kiss me, but I screwed it up. Even if he was madly, insanely in love with me, I would find a way to mess this up. Guys make me nervous and I ruin everything.”
“How did you screw up?”
“I don’t know. He just makes me so nervous. I jumped away from him when he tried to kiss me. I sat as far away from him as I could and didn’t talk to him during dinner. I don’t think he likes me much anymore.” I hoped he did still like me, but I had no way of knowing. I certainly couldn’t ask him.
There was a silence on the other end of the phone and then Helen answered me. “I’m free this afternoon. What project do you want help with?”
“You’re gonna love it!”
Chapter 19
We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight.
~ H. P. Lovecraft
HELEN WAS GOING TO JOIN me to go through the letters, but first I had to be sure I was taking proper care of them. I went to the university library and did some research about how to preserve old letters. I ended up spending more than I wanted on all the supplies I needed so that we could handle them and store them properly.
When I finally made it back to my room, Helen was waiting for me. She sat on my bed like she owned it. I had to wonder how Helen snuck into the house without anyone noticing her, but she seemed to have cat burglar skills that rivaled the best ninjas. Helen told me I was a geek at least five times when she saw the lengths to which I had gone to in order to protect the letters, and she also reminded me that I was an old lady trapped in a teenage girl’s body. I laughed and made fun of he
r desperate need to find out who wrote the letters. For a minute, it was like old times. We were high school girls again. I missed those days when it was just me and Helen. Jake lived far away and our lives weren’t complicated by guys and the messiness of relationships. I didn’t miss being alone all the time at school or being made fun of, but I missed those precious moments at night when Helen snuck in my bedroom window and spent all night hanging out with me.
I had purchased everything we needed, so we were equipped with two pairs of cotton gloves and several scrapbooks with hard cardboard pages and clear plastic to keep the paper rigid and acid-free. I was thrilled. Helen was clearly excited, too. We put on our gloves, and Helen tore into the second letter and I yelled at her for being too rough. She slowed down and, once the first few letters were placed in plastic, Helen gave me a look just begging me to let her read it. So, we lay back on my enormous bed and started reading.
August 15, 1692
My Beloved,
You have left me adrift upon a foreign sea and only you can save me. I sit, day after day, waiting for your return. I wait with bated breath from any word from you, but you have abandoned me. I close my eyes and conjure images of you. I imagine you in your castle, surrounded by all the great lords and ladies of the land. I wonder if some fair maiden has captured your eye and your heart. Perhaps that is why you have left me.
Life here continues on. My family sees my broken heart as the fancy of a foolish girl. I sit by the window with my mother and my sisters while we do our embroidery and listen to them speak of all the things that once ruled my life. They all seem so small now. They seem so far away. Diana, my eldest sister, is to be wed in a fortnight. Her bridegroom is a merchant from London. She likes him well enough, but I can’t imagine marrying a man who doesn’t set my heart on fire the way you do. Still, she seems happy enough and that pleases me for I have great affection for her and wish her all the happiness in the world.
Please send word, my beloved. The world has lost its color and my tears never end. Let me know you are still alive.
Forever yours,
Liliana
Helen picked up the next letter and carefully set it on the cardboard and covered it in plastic.
“Do you think they’re all like this? Do you think she just pines away after this guy, year after year?” Helen asked. “I don’t think I could bear that. I hope he falls off his horse and breaks his neck.”
“I don’t think so,” I said as I opened another packet of letters. “This stack seems to be from a Richard Rochester IV.”
August 14, 1692
My Darling,
I have finally arrived at my family’s estate outside of Newcastle. It is so beautiful here. I can see you here at Thornfield Hall. Your lips are the same color as the roses in the gardens and your skin as delicate as the dew that clings to them in the mornings. I long to see you wandering the halls. My father assures me that we can be wed in the summer. We must settle affairs here before I can return to you. The estate here is in a terrible mess and my father says it would be wrong of me to marry before I set my affairs in order.
It is difficult for me to be as patient as my family dictates, however. The wind whispers your name and the nights are long and cold. I rode out onto the Moors last night and I thought I saw you standing in the shadows. There is a haunting quality to the landscape here that reminds me of you and your many ghost stories. You belong here, my love. Although time and space divide us, know you are always in my heart and I am yearning for the moment we can be together again.
Yours Always,
Richard Rochester.
Helen began to read the next letter in her packet.
October 1, 1692
My Beloved,
It has been many months since I have had the time to write you. My sister’s wedding has consumed all of our time. I have spent my days working on her wedding gown and helping her brew her bridal ale. The town is alive with excitement. The party is sure to put all others to shame. Yet even though my hours are spent working toward my sister’s shining moment, I cannot stop thinking of you. I still await word from you. Have you forgotten about me? Do you still love me at all?
The sun is setting as I write this letter and my mother is calling to me. I am ignoring her words to write in hopes that my words will somehow find their way to your heart and bring you back to me.
Forever Yours,
Liliana
September 1, 1692
My Darling,
Since I last saw you, my fortune has failed me. I wish you were here to ease my suffering with your soft lips. Your words would take all my worry away. Our estate, here, is in such a terrible state that we have had to sell some of our lands. My father has already sold several of our holdings in the South and he lectures me daily on my duties to my family. I know he wants me to forget you and the promises I made you to seek love in the arms of a woman with wealth and a handsome dowry, but I promise you that I will never forsake you. I am promised to you and I would rather be a pauper in your arms than a king in the arms of another.
Write to me, my love. I long to hear from you. I miss our simple lives in the country. I am alone here and time passes slowly in the fog. It seems that all there is here is loneliness and the knowledge that my family is falling apart around me. My mother says that my father has ruined us. She says he gambled our lives away, but I only know that I wish you were with me.
Always Yours,
Richard
The light flickered above us and Helen picked up another letter. “How long can it go on like this?” she asked as she read.
October 21, 1692
My Beloved,
My sister is wed now, and all are saying that she is already with child, although I think it is far too soon to tell. She is a happy bride and her radiance fills every room she walks into. It also fills me with sorrow. I still haven’t heard from you and I wonder if you are still mine, at all. Am I ever to be a bride? My parents want me to put you behind me. Your lands here are sold and they say you will never return. They tell me that I should meet with the other suitors who are eager to make me their bride, but I can’t forget you. Where are you, my love? I fear if I don’t hear from you soon I will be given to another.
I wandered the old castle today and thought of you. The ghosts there whisper your name. I think they remember us and our love. They wait for us. I have heard that witches used to live in the castle in the days of yore. Some call this place Witching Hill and say evil things wait here, but I fear nothing now. I only fear losing you. The witches that lived here were burned long ago, but their ghosts and their magic remain here. It is heresy to think this, but I wonder if their magic could bring you back to me. How I long to hold you! There is only sorrow for me now and ghosts.
Forever Yours,
Liliana.
I put another letter in the scrapbook and looked at the pile of papers on my bed. They weren’t all letters. There was an old book and a journal. I opened one of the books. It was filled with handwritten notes. At first the notes looked like recipes, but upon careful study, they were spells.
“Look at this,” I said to Helen.
Helen left her letters and took the journal. “This is just creepy. How did you find this stuff?”
I shrugged.
“How did you find this stuff?” Helen persisted.
“You were right,” I said. “There is something supernatural here. I saw a ghost.”
“Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed.
I shook my head.
“You saw a ghost?”
I nodded.
“And the ghost showed you these letters?”
I nodded again.
“We need to get you out of here. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know these things never end well. I told you not to stay here. I told you this place was creepy. You can quit tonight.
You have enough money to stay in the dorms. They’ve paid you well. You’ve saved up enough.”
“No!” I yelled. “I love it here.”
“You love it in a haunted, probably cursed, castle? I’m weird, but I believe in self-preservation and it is time to think about preserving yourself and getting the hell out of here.”
“I can’t leave,” I muttered.
“Because of him?”
“Maybe… but also because I’ve never been so happy as I’ve been here. There’s a mystery here waiting to be solved and I can’t go until I solve it.” My eyes filled with tears and I wiped them away. I must have been feeling all emotional because of the letters.
“I thought I was supposed to be the one who chased trouble,” Helen said with a shake of her head.
“You’re rubbing off on me.” I sighed. It was true. I’d never felt more alive as I had at Thornfield.
Helen looked at the book of letters we’d made. She touched the old paper with her cotton glove. “You are the closest thing to a real family I’ve ever had,” she said sadly. “My father still gives me nightmares. I still wake up afraid he might…” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “My mother is gone. Jake… Well, relationships can get complicated. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, Jane. You have to promise me you’ll be sensible and safe.”
“I’m always sensible and safe. You don’t need to worry about me.”
Helen laughed. “You’re right.”
I glanced out the window. It was dark. A sliver of a moon hung in the starry night sky.
Helen looked at her watch. “When did it get so late?” she asked.
As if on cue, the nurse popped her head in the room. “I’m heading out, now,” she said. “Miss Adele is all tucked in.”
Jane of Air Page 9