‘Sorry, Uncle Franklin,’ Hattie said.
Mr Bennet casually dipped his head and by that gesture alone, Hattie knew all was forgiven. He too was prepared to let bygones be bygones. A sincere apology clearly meant a lot to them.
Silence fell upon them again, but Mr Bennet didn’t mind. He had a lot to think about. He put his cup down and turned to his wife.
‘Maude, I would like to work on the children’s diets,’ he said. ‘We can determine if their eating habits are making them ill through process of elimination. Will you make a diary of everything they eat? Please check with the cook and ask her to make a list. We shall take out some items at a time and reintroduce them.’
‘I shall have a word with the cook as soon as we are done, Franklin,’ Lady Bennet said, looking at her husband attentively.
‘You are a dear.’ He leant over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Some recipes may need breaking down. If any prepared meals are making them sick, there might be something in them that does not agree with the girls. It could be a certain ingredient or food group. We shall find out.’
Mr Bennet started journaling as per his promise. For weeks, he worked on the children’s diets but so far had come up with nothing.
At the same time, he had been trying to figure out what was causing all the disruptions in the house. While most activities were easily excused, some things could not be explained.
The strange noises in the walls and the floors he attributed to animals such as rats scurrying behind the walls. For the creaky expansion of the building, he blamed the weather.
Yet, how should one explain a chair being lifted mid-air of its own accord and flung across the room with forcible might? How should one explain personal items flying from the shelves? Books were being pegged across the room like something invisible was having a tantrum. What about the writing appearing on the wall in blood? One could see it being written as though an invisible hand were at work.
Mr Bennet wrote ‘inconclusive’ to these questions.
Lady Bennet watched him close his book and open the journal devoted to Antonia and Freya. ‘What’s on the agenda this week?’ she asked.
‘This one is going to be hard, I’m afraid,’ he answered, ‘This week I shall be eliminating eggs, milk, butter, sugar and cheese.’
Lady Bennet sighed for her girls. ‘It certainly will be hard for the girls. They shall be missing out on a lot of their favourite dishes.’
‘I’m afraid so. At least this is the last of it. I left the worst for last.’ To make it easier on his girls, Mr Bennet had started off with the foods they were not particularly fond of. Freya loved going without her carrots and broccoli, while Antonia had been glad for her tripe-free week.
This week they would not be so agreeable. He was not looking forward to their complaining, but it had to be done.
Although she empathised with her daughters, Lady Bennet was subservient to her husband’s demands. She knew it was all for a good cause.
Dutifully, she went off to speak with the cook.
To everyone’s dismay, the girls became worse as the days rolled by. They were afflicted at different times. Sometimes, when one was mute the other spoke on her behalf. To make matters worse, many of the staff were falling to the sickness.
Mr Bennet searched for every possibility he could imagine. He observed the diet his employees ate and the cleaning products they used. He made note of the surroundings: the flora and fauna, and even the water supply. He assumed those who fell ill did so by oral insemination or by touch. The contagion could be airborne or poison. It could be anything.
Mr Bennet questioned why it was only young people being affected.
To be fair to his nieces, he included the possibility of witchcraft in his studies, making a third journal based on their theory. He studied the supernatural with a vivacity that should have earned him a professor’s degree. He became quite intrigued with it all. His library was filled with texts regarding witchcraft, demonology, and strange creatures from the unknown.
After eliminating all other possibilities, Mr Bennet determined the strange goings-on in the abbey to be poltergeist activity. However, he was not convinced Beatty was the instigator.
He felt a little defeated where Beatty was concerned. Disproving her guilt was becoming harder as the results revealed strange phenomena and the staff began talking in town on their days off, putting her life at greater risk.
Rather than panic, the townspeople started to visit out of curiosity. Mr Bennet, deep in his research and experiments, made a bad decision: he allowed the visitors to come to the abbey as part of the experiment. It was like something had taken over him. The scientist in him was his Achilles heel. In his desperation to save his daughters, he decided to think outside of the box.
As the days fell away, the activities increased. The girls were now levitating and speaking in strange voices, their limbs getting more and more contorted. Mr Bennet feared their bones might break.
Deep, ingrained scratches, like claw marks, were appearing on the girls, right in front of everyone’s eyes.
The unexplained sounds that haunted the household grew louder. The raps on the wall turned to scratching noises and began to leave claw marks. The invisible footsteps that climbed the floorboards and staircases left heavy boot imprints. Sometimes the prints were child-like and other times they were from a two-legged creature with hooves.
Soon, visitors were coming every day to walk through the house. The girls were watched like performing monkeys and, as their afflictions worsened, more people came.
At first, the girls enjoyed the attention. Most times they would have no idea of their surroundings while ill, but the reports they received when they were out of their stupor seemed to go to their heads. Sometimes when they were mind-altered, they seemed to notice the crowds but had no control of their actions.
The attention of the townspeople had also drawn sceptics who wished to debunk all the false claims of paranormal activity, but not one of the phenomenal events could be disproved.
Tessa and Hattie, being lucrative investors like their father, started charging entry fees at the door. To be fair, they charged the children less. They allocated the task to the servants, as they had no desire to waste their precious time stuck at the doorway collecting money.
The family became used to the visits and tried to carry on with their daily routine as though the visitors weren’t there. They were adamant the experiment was not going to disrupt their normal routines.
Often, and against Mr Bennet’s better nature, he would force Beatty to call upon the household to stir up the situation. The girls often attacked her, scratching at her face. They believed they could weaken her power over them by drawing blood. Beatty was so scratched up she was hardly recognisable. Committed to the investigation, Mr Bennet had no choice but to stand back and let it happen.
The activities reached a climax and visitors were flocking like seagulls. The lines went out the door and way down the street. Where all the people came from, the Squire had no idea. Quarrendon was only a small village and he knew every face. These strange faces must have travelled from elsewhere.
Always amongst the crowd were the family members of the Blackwell and Seymour clans.
So intriguing were their tales when they reported back to their matriarchs that the matron Mrs Theodora Blackwell paid a visit with four other family members as her entourage. She was not disappointed in her viewing. Such undertakings had convinced her that the occurrences were certainly due to mischief. She believed the witchcraft activities to be coming from Beatrice, a claim formidably expressed by the bewitched girls themselves but ignored.
Theodora knew it would be wise not to go against the Squire, yet she had to convince him of the truth. She decided the situation called for a meeting, one that included both the Blackwell and Seymour clans. There would be power in numbers. They had to come together in agreement, once and for all. They had tried recently, but the families had slowly resumed t
heir gripes.
When the time was right, Theodora would include the townsfolk in her plans.
She demanded to be taken home. Two of her daughters held her up by the arms and led her out the abbey door. As she was leaving, the matron Mrs Elizabeth Seymour marched past with her entourage of seven. She always had to outdo her, groused Theodora.
They stopped in front of each other and shared a knowing nod before parting.
Antonia and Freya were in their bedroom and Lady Bennet was in the parlour entertaining her nieces with tea and scones. George was in his room sleeping. He preferred to stay in his room during the frenzied hours. Mr Bennet had made a strict rule that all visitors were to be gone by three in the afternoon, so his son could lead as normal a life as was possible. He could not handle chaos.
While George slept peacefully, the day was quite an eventful one for his sisters. Freya was having a turn and was confined to bed. Her afflictions were almost daily now, and the fits were becoming more regular. They had counted fifteen yesterday. The day before, she had endured one dragged-out fit that lasted hours on end, which left her more exhausted than she’d ever been. For the first time, Freya said she wanted to die. It broke her father’s heart that she was not faring well. She was deteriorating in front of his eyes. He feared his little girl was dying and he was desperate for answers.
On the outside, Mr Bennet seemed unaffected, but inside he was afraid. The fear kept him from sleep. He had hoped to have found the solution by now.
If things didn’t get any better, he was considering sending his daughter away with her cousins. Tessa and Hattie were going home in two weeks. They had written to their father and he had arranged a carriage for them.
Although they had originally intended on staying till the end of their uncle’s contract, they were homesick and missed their father dearly. The household had celebrated the New Year only last week and Christmas the week before. It was the first ever Yuletide season the Cornwall girls had celebrated without either parent.
The once joyous occasion had left them heartbroken. They couldn’t help thinking about what a lonely time their father would be having. Of course, he had been invited to join them in Quarrendon, but he had turned down the offer, claiming he was too busy.
Tessa and Hattie anticipated he had wanted to be alone so he could wallow in his grief.
With their father’s crisis in mind, they decided to go home and return to the abbey in six months’ time for the July Assizes.
Mr Bennet hadn’t yet brought up the subject of sending Freya with them. He needed to seriously think it over in the next few days and no later, as he didn’t want to give them too short a notice. The girls would probably like their father to know ahead of time they were bringing Freya with them.
Mr Bennet walked past the crowd and up the stairs to his daughters’ bedroom door. He had purposely left it shut so he could maintain some order. He was admitting a dozen people in at a time. It was a fair count given the size of the room. As a rule, they were expected to stand back from the girls and observe only.
He took his stand at the entrance, counting each head as they entered. When the twelfth man passed, he followed him into the room and closed the door. The room felt eerie.
Freya was floating in the air, about a metre of space between her and the bed. She was growling like a wild beast.
The crowd were stunned and frightened.
A line marked the floor, keeping the spectators at a distance. They were forbidden to step over it, but there was no likelihood of that ever happening; their fear kept them at bay.
Antonia sat on her bed, but she seemed to be okay. There were two sturdy footmen in the room in case something went wrong. At the master’s command, they secured Freya to the bed with straps. It looked cruel, but it was a necessity.
The beast in Freya complained. She fought with great strength. The words coming out of her mouth were vile. Since she could not levitate, she compromised by raising the bed off the floor. Without warning, it flew to the ceiling and dropped to the floor. The audience gasped and some clung on to each other.
The show was not over. Freya began to ooze blood from her orifices. They watched blood seep from her eyes. As soon as it appeared, it was all gone without a trace to be found. The spectators couldn’t believe the tricks playing on their minds.
A loud knock sounded on the far wall. The audience jumped. The noise grew in volume. It sounded like a door opening, but there was no door to be seen on the far wall. Deafening footsteps, belonging to something invisible, walked around the room. The crowd grew scared as footprints neared them.
‘Let me out of here,’ one lady yelled, unable to take it anymore. ‘I want to go home.’
‘That’s enough now, folks,’ Mr Bennet said. ‘We have quite a line to get through.’ Luckily for Mr Bennet, the audience had seen enough. He let them out and did another headcount for the next lot of spectators. The new lot looked edgy after seeing the pale faces that had left moments before.
Freya settled into a catatonic state.
Antonia sprung up into a sitting position. The crowd screamed. Saliva dribbled from her mouth as she threw herself around. A male voice amplified from her mouth.
‘Freya says if you let her loose she will behave.’
The voice had always been truthful, so Mr Bennet ordered his men to untie his youngest daughter.
Both daughters settled.
The audience was disappointed. They waited awhile, hoping for something to happen.
‘Sorry folks,’ Mr Bennet apologised, regretful for the big letdown, yet relieved his daughters were well for the time being. ‘I might have to send everybody home. You can maybe wait around, but it looks like the show is over.’ He walked to the door.
Before Mr Bennet could reach the door, Freya screamed. He turned to see her mouth contorting and widening to an immeasurable size. He panicked her jaw was going to snap.
Her face recovered, but then her arms began to contort. Her wrists and elbows bent back abnormally. Next, her arms were pulled behind her back at the shoulders. When the pressure was finally released, her arms rested a moment before stretching out in front of her. They bended like rubber bands, but not at the joints. Her forearms looked like arched bridges.
Something snapped.
Freya screamed in agony. The pain brought her out of the spell.
‘Right, everybody out,’ yelled Mr Bennet. ‘Out, now!’
He stood at the top of the staircase and proceeded to send them all on their way, but they were reluctant to go. ‘Do you have no compassion for my child?’ Mr Bennet asked, prompting their slow departure. ‘And somebody call for the doctor, please.’
‘Aye,’ hollered a burly voice from the crowd. ‘On my way, sir! Sorry to hear about the girl’s predicament. Hope she recovers.’
Mr Bennet pinpointed where the only voice to give sincere condolence had come from. ‘Thank you, my good man.’ He watched the sturdy man make a dash for the exit.
Mr Bennet saw his wife and nieces running for the girls’ room. He had every intention of joining them but remained on the staircase until every person was gone.
When there was no one around left to see, he shed a tear.
Nine
The house had settled. The doctor had come immediately to attend to Freya’s arm. He sedated her with a strong tonic and gave her sister a smaller dose.
Tessa and Hattie needed a dose too.
After such an eventful day, the family decided an early night would be good for all. Like many other nights, Mr Bennet took his thoughts to bed.
‘I don’t get it,’ he said to his wife, who was tucked under the blankets beside him.
‘What is it, dear?’ she asked.
Mr Bennet was sitting up in bed, looking over his journal. ‘There is a pattern here. All the afflicted are barely adults.’ He showed the page to Maude.
Struggling to read, she sat upright and took the book from him.
‘Look,’ he said, showing her
where to look. He had listed all the people who had fallen to the sickness. ‘They are all under sixteen. The maids who were afflicted were between fourteen and sixteen, and all the boys were under sixteen.’
In the past month, every young maid had left the abbey. The household members were now all mature aged and, oddly enough, there had been no more complaints.
The boys who had been working in the gardens and stables were still around. Of late, they had been refused entry to the house. Prior to the strange phenomena, they had rarely entered the abbey and, coincidently, their afflictions were not as often as the employees who were permanently stationed under the roof.
Mr Bennet had already received feedback from the groundsmen. One boy had discerned he was only sick whenever he paid a visit to the house. At first, the men thought he was making excuses, but given the reports they’d heard about the household staff, they stopped sending their boys and took to doing the errands themselves. They were under the notion it was a child’s disease.
Mr Bennet saw their theory as quite plausible.
‘It is the children, Maude. Why does it not affect us adults? And it is something to do with the house. The affliction does not happen anywhere else. What is going on?’ He stared into the pages as if the answers would jump out at him.
‘If that is the case, Franklin, why is our son untouched?’ She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them, for fear that her son may too become infected.
‘Oh, Franklin, I am starting to become as hysterical as everyone else. I’m concerned George may become afflicted.’
‘Perhaps his retardation saves him,’ he suggested, trying to comfort her and himself. ‘Is there anything the young ones eat that we do not? Do they come into contact with anything that we do not?’
‘Nothing I can think of.’
‘We might have to relook into these reports, Maude. Would you do me a favour? Over the following weeks, make a diary of anything the children eat different to the adults. Draw up an inventory of everything related to them. If they wash their clothes or bathe using a different soap to ours, note it.
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