by Amy Cross
“Your Ladyship -”
“Perhaps I'm quite mad.”
I did not know how to respond to this.
Slowly, with her hands shaking next to her face, she turned to me.
“Perhaps I'm mad, Lawrence,” she continued. “I know you've thought that for a while. You all have. But perhaps it's true and I've taken leave of all my senses. Then again, how would one know?”
She started to slide down, leaning against the shelves, but after a moment her feet slipped and she slammed against the floor. I rushed forward to help her, but I stopped when I saw that she seemed to be completely fine. It was almost as if she had not even noticed that she had fallen.
“Poor Matthew,” she whimpered, “married to an insane wife. Oh, how I've betrayed him. I didn't know there was this crack in my soul, not when I married him, otherwise I'd never have let myself become such a burden. I ought to scratch myself out of existence, Lawrence. I ought to make his life easier by not being here at all.”
She hesitated, and then she started sobbing uncontrollably. She seemed to be trying to say something, but I could not make out any of the words, and I confess that in that moment I felt utterly hopeless. Perhaps there are men who, in such a situation, would have known precisely what to do next. As for myself, I could not conjure up any possible response to what seemed like an utter collapse. I resolved, therefore, to do the one thing that made any sense.
“I shall fetch His Lordship,” I told her. “He will surely know what to do.”
I remember waiting, hoping that she might pull herself together, but then I turned and hurried to the door.
“Help me, Lawrence,” she whimpered suddenly.
I stopped in the doorway, but I did not turn to look at her.
“Please help me,” she cried, her voice trembling as if it might break at any moment. “I don't know what to do. You always know how to fix things, Lawrence. Can't you help me?”
“I shall fetch His Lordship,” I replied, with my back still turned and my face shrouded in the gloom of the corridor. “He will know.”
I hurried on. I think, looking back, that she might have called after me again. If she did, I ignored what she said and I made my way briskly along the corridor and through toward His Lordship's study. I recall that I was terribly shaken at that point, and that deep down I felt that I should have done something differently. At the same time, I was hemmed in by my responsibilities, and any other course of action would have constituted a betrayal of my loyalties to my employer. And it was His Lordship to whom I owed my ultimate loyalty. It was His Lordship, not Her Ladyship, who retained my services. So was it not right, truly, that I went to him on that night?
I found him not in the study, but in the games room, where he was examining the legs of the bar billiards table.
“Sir,” I said as soon as I saw him, “I -”
“There's something wrong with this thing,” he replied. “It's not level. I mean, it looks level, but it's not, it can't be, because the balls drift slightly when one's trying to pot them. It's driving me insane.”
“Sir, I must speak to you about Her Ladyship. She -”
“I think I'm going to get rid of the whole thing,” he continued. “Nobody plays in the house, anyway. Bar billiards is such an old-fashioned game anyway, Lawrence. Why, I doubt whether anyone will be playing it by the end of the year. Yes, I'm going to have it taken away. You won't change my mind.”
“I would not dream of trying,” I told him, “but, alas, at this moment I must speak to you about another -”
“I'm not making excuses, you know,” he said, getting to his feet and stepping back, and furrowing his brow as if the table – and only the table – consumed his every waking thought. “It really is a dusty, old-fashioned kind of game. It's the antithesis of everything I'm trying to create here at Aldburn Park. Why I didn't realize that sooner, I cannot even begin to understand.”
“Sir, I -”
Before I could finish, the most dreadful scream rang out from far off in the house. I flinched, but already I knew that the scream had come from Her Ladyship. For a few seconds after the scream had died down, I was absolutely unable to utter another word. In truth, I expected His Lordship to say something, but he merely remained frozen in place next to the bar billiards table. It was evident that he had heard the scream, but he showed no intention of rushing to Her Ladyship's aid.
I thought that strange at the time.
“Sir,” I continued finally, breaking the silence, “I do not mean to disturb you when you are clearly so busy, but... I believe Lady Fetchford might be in need of some... assistance.”
I waited, but still he did not respond.
After a few seconds, his gaze returned to the bar billiards table.
“I'm throwing out all the equipment,” he said after what felt like an interminable pause, “and then I'll have the table taken away by some men. I think it would be better to have a -”
Suddenly the scream rang out again, sounding more ragged this time and ending not abruptly as before but – rather – in a series of guttural yelps.
“Yes,” His Lordship said almost immediately, “I think it would be better to have a pool table. Have you ever seen pool played, Lawrence? It's American in origin, and much more modern than stuffy old bar billiards. There no need for -”
“Sir,” I said, interrupting him.
He turned to me, most likely shocked that I had dared to cut him off while he was mid-flow.
“It's about Lady Fetchford, Sir,” I continued, desperately aware that I was most likely intruding in a matter that I should have left well alone. “She's in the conservatory, Sir, and I fear that she is... worse than before.”
He stared at me, as if nothing I had said made sense. Indeed, for a moment I began to worry that I had muddled my words, for he seemed not to understand at all.
And then, before I could say anything more, Her Ladyship cried out yet again, and this time it sounded as if she must surely be in some immediate danger. Indeed, I felt then – as I feel now – that it was the cry of somebody who was doing some kind of damage to their own body.
“Why must she make that sound?” His Lordship asked. “Doesn't she know that I'm trying to concentrate?”
Even before he finished that sentence, Her Ladyship cried out again. This time I heard not so much a scream, and more a kind of wailing and howling.
“It's so very hard to think straight,” His Lordship continued, “when one has to constantly contend with that awful din. I have it every day, ringing in my ears, and it's starting to drive me crazy. Do you have any idea what she's like, Lawrence? I know you see her during the day, but I'm the one who has to put up with her at night. She whispers into my ear while I'm sleeping, you know. She does it all the time, as if she's trying to make me lose control.”
“Sir -”
“And I've had enough!” he shouted, and now he seemed red-faced with anger, and a vein on his forehead was much more prominent than before. Then, as if to emphasize his point, he slammed a fist against the edge of the bar billiards table. “I've had more than any man could ever possibly take! I can't deal with her hysteria any longer! I swear, Lawrence, that bloody woman is going to drive me past the point of madness!”
Before I had a chance to reply, he stormed past me. In fact, he brushed against my shoulder in the process, knocking me aside, and I turned just in time to see him marching out of the room.
“Sir,” I said, hurrying after him, as Her Ladyship's cries rang out again, “I must -”
“Stay here!” he snapped, glancing back at me for a moment and pointing, as if dealing with a recalcitrant child. “I don't need your help, Lawrence! You will stay right there, do you understand?”
“Yes, but -”
He let out a loud, frustrated snarl as he turned and stormed out of sight, and I listened to the sound of his footsteps getting further and further away. At the same time, Her Ladyship seemed almost to be howling, to the extent that I beg
an to wonder whether she might actually be in some kind of pain. I wanted to obey His Lordship, of course, but at the same time I was filled with the urge to rush to be of assistance. Despite all my doubtful thoughts about Lady Fetchford, I hated to hear any human being in such distress. Her cries of anguish continued for a few moments more, and then – just as I felt I might lose my mind – her voice was abruptly and very suddenly cut off.
I stood in silence. I did not know it then, but I do now: after that moment, I never heard or saw Her Ladyship again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Flesh Drips
“Tomorrow?” I snap, unable to hold back as I stare at Mrs. Ferguson. “Did you not explain the urgency of the situation?”
“The doctor said it would be too difficult to get out here,” she replies, as rain batters the nearby window with increasing ferocity. “He said the roads might be flooded.”
“What nonsense!” I reply, filled with indignation. “You must get him back on the line at once and impress upon him the seriousness of His Lordship's condition. Tell him that His Lordship is delirious, and that he might have a fever. Remind him who he is dealing with here!”
“Mr. Lawrence -”
“And what is that terrible sound?” I ask, turning to seek the source of a constant dripping that has been plaguing me since I came through to the larder. After a moment, I spot a puddle of water on one of the tables, and then another drop falls from the ceiling.
“There are leaks in some of the upstairs rooms as well,” Mrs. Ferguson says. “I'm surprised you haven't noticed before, Mr. Lawrence. The house is in quite a state of disrepair.”
“At least put a bucket under there,” I reply, shocked by the realization that Aldburn Park itself seems to be falling apart. “And then call that doctor and make him come out here. I must go back to the conservatory and sit with His Lordship. He seems utterly out of his mind, he keeps claiming to have seen -”
I catch myself just in time. I already decided to not mention the details of His Lordship's hallucinations, since Mrs. Ferguson will most surely latch onto them and start asking foolish questions. When I glance at her, however, I immediately see from the look in her eyes that she is suspicious.
“To have seen what?” she asks. “Or who?”
“Never you mind,” I reply.
“But -”
“Stop asking questions, woman!” I say firmly, before taking a step back. “I shall go and sit with His Lordship, and you will get the doctor out here. Then, everything will start to get back to normal. And I will not countenance any nonsense tonight, Mrs. Ferguson, so see to it that you keep your mouth closed and focus instead on your tasks. Is that understood?”
She hesitates for a moment, before nodding.
Without giving her a chance to spout any more nonsense, I turn and hurry out of the room and along the corridor. My mind is racing and I have no idea what I can do to calm His Lordship, but I keep telling myself that my priority must be to keep him safe until the local doctor arrives. The doctor will know what to do, and then perhaps we can get Doctor Farrier to come all the way out here to Aldburn Park. In times of crisis, we must keep our faith in the experts who know how to treat both body and mind.
“Everything is in hand,” I say as I enter the conservatory and hurry to the far corner. “Mrs. Ferguson is going to -”
Stopping suddenly, I see to my horror that there is now no sign of His Lordship. I glance around, but all I see is the detritus and damage from his earlier mania. His Lordship himself, however, has evidently left the room. I thought he would stay here, that he would be too terrified to go out into the corridor, but it would seem that he must have gone to seek refuge elsewhere.
“Your Lordship?” I call out, hurrying out into the corridor and then starting to check the nearest rooms. “your Lordship, where are you? I want to help you.”
As I go from room to room, I cannot help but feel increasingly frantic. His Lordship is in no fit state to be alone, and I now curse myself for having left his side even for a few minutes. This is all my fault, and I shall never forgive myself if anything happens to him.
And then, as I check the games room, I hear a loud banging sound coming from far off, and I immediately rush along the corridor. A moment later, Mrs. Ferguson emerges from the kitchen, looking utterly bemused by the continuing sound, and we make our way together across the hallway until we reach the study, at which point we both stop and see that the double doors that lead into the garden have been left open, and are now banging wildly in the wind as rain falls through onto the rug.
“Where is His Lordship?” Mrs. Ferguson asks.
Without answering her question, I make my way to the doorway and look out. For a moment, all I see is rain, but then I spot a figure out there in the darkness, stumbling across the lawn and seemingly heading toward the summer house.
“Is that him?” Mrs. Ferguson says, stopping next to me.
“Get the fire burning,” I reply, and then I hurry out into the dark, driving rain and start running across the lawn.
The ground is wet and slippery beneath my feet, and within seconds I am drenched as the terrible downpour continues. I almost fall several times, and indeed I can see that up ahead His Lordship is slithering down onto his knees. He is about halfway across the lawn, and as I reach him I realize I can hear him mumbling away to himself. The sound of falling rain is too loud, hissing and crashing all around us, so I cannot make out any of what he is saying as I reach him and drop to my knees.
“Your Lordship!” I shout, trying desperately to be heard above the rainstorm. “You cannot be out here! You'll catch a dreadful cold! You must come back inside at once!”
He does not respond. Instead, he remains shivering on the grass, and I can just about make out the sight of his features as he stares toward the summer house.
I follow his gaze, but all I see is the dark little building and the equally dark pond.
“Sir, you must listen to me,” I continue, turning back to him. “Come back into the house.”
“I saw her,” he replies, barely raising his voice above the sound of the rain.
“Sir -”
“I saw her!” he shouts, turning to me. “Don't you get it yet, Lawrence? She's never going to leave me alone! I saw her! She's in every window, every mirror, she's everywhere! I tried closing my eyes, I thought maybe she'd go away, but then I felt...”
His voice trails off for a moment.
“I felt her hand reaching around from behind,” he continues finally. “Her cold, dead hand.” He reaches up and, with his own hand, touches one side of his face. “It was as real as anything I've ever felt before, Lawrence. I pulled away, I ran, but I already knew. It's her, she's here and she's coming for me, and there's nothing anyone can do. Oh, the sight of her is so terrible. The flesh drips from her rotten face. She has been underwater for so long.”
Staring at him, as rain continues to crash down all around us, I realize that he absolutely believes what he's saying.
He turns and looks back toward the summer house, and then he slowly raises his left hand and points in that direction.
“There,” he stammers. “See, Lawrence? There she is, waiting for me.”
I follow his gaze, and – despite the rain and darkness – I can just about make out the summer house. I watch for a moment, searching for even the slightest hint of movement or for some sign of a figure standing there, but there's nothing.
“Tell me you see her!” His Lordship shouts, his voice trembling now with terror. “She's walking this way, Lawrence! She's coming right toward us!”
“There's nothing there!” I reply, still watching in case I might spot movement. “There just isn't.”
“Oh God, she's right there,” he whimpers. “How can you be so blind, Lawrence? She's coming for me. She's been taunting me, appearing in brief reflections, but now she's making her move and she's coming to gain her revenge!”
I open my mouth to tell him that he's wrong,
that he's imagining things, but for a moment I watch instead as rain continues to pour down. The scene is dark, but I am quite sure that I would be able to see anyone who happened to be walking toward us. Indeed, the idea that I could not see someone approaching is quite absurd. Nevertheless, I watch for a moment longer, before finally telling myself that I am being foolish. I look back down at His Lordship and see that he is still staring straight ahead, his eyes still wide with fear.
“Do you see the look in her eyes, Lawrence?” he gasps. “Tell me you see it!”
“Let's get you up,” I reply, taking hold of his arm and trying to get him off the ground, only to find that he seems unwilling to move. “Sir, please, you must cooperate. Please, let me get you inside.”
“She hates me!” he sobs, raising his hands again and staring ahead as if he truly sees Her Ladyship approaching. “Look at her!”
I turn again, but I still do not see her. It is clear that His Lordship is convinced, however, and I begin to realize that I am going to have to find some other way to get him inside. I look around for a moment, considering my options, and then I get to my feet and step around him, and I put my hands under his arms and start pulling him across the wet grass.
He is not a heavy man, but I am not particularly young and I struggle to get him closer to the house. He's whimpering and muttering as I drag him through the darkness, but finally we reach the shingle path that runs along the house's exterior and I start pulling him up the stone steps. I let out a pained gasp, and then I apologize to him for any discomfort, and finally – by some miracle – I manage to get him into the study. As soon as his feet have cleared the doorway, I pull him a little further and then I set him down. My arms are aching and I am a little short of breath, but I immediately reach down to check his pulse at the neck.
Before I can do that, however, he sits up and looks at the open double doors.
“She's still coming,” he says, with utter shock in his voice. “Look!”
With that, he raises his left hand and once again points straight ahead.