Haunted Happenings

by Lucrezia Black

  The rest of Christmas day seemed to pass very slowly. Charlotte just wanted Boxing day to be here. But they did have a magnificent Christmas dinner, with turkey and glazed ham and all the trimmings. The Christmas pudding was the best that Charlotte had ever tasted. Eventually everyone retired to bed, full and happy, and Charlotte fell asleep quickly.

  She was jolted awake by the same dream she’d had the first night though; if possible, it was even more real than the night before. Charlotte sat catching her breath, feeling terrified, her heart seemingly beating out of her chest. Once again, at the end of the bed was the ghost, or was it a vision, of Emma. Again, Charlotte couldn’t hear her words, but Emma seemed to be pleading with her. As before, as Charlotte began to come to a little more, and calm herself, the vision faded.

  The next morning at breakfast, Charlotte related her experiences to Charles. “Well then, I think it a very good thing Mrs. Hart-Stanford is coming to visit us today. Perhaps we can stop these dreadful dreams of yours and do some good in the process.”

  * * *

  It was an interminable wait for 5pm. Charles snuck away around 4.30pm, to collect Mrs. Hart-Stanford from the home, and no one really paid much attention to the fact that he left the house. He seemed to take the high road and pull Amelia aside to inform her that they would be having a guest. Charlotte wasn’t certain whether he told her who the guest was or why she was being invited, but she seemed to beam at the idea of entertaining some senior citizen for the evening.

  Charlotte wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d spun it as some charity opportunity. Seniors without families to be entertained at Christmas, associated with some charity, blah, blah. There were so many different lies that could have been told to placate Amelia. But whatever he said worked and she seemed happy with the idea.

  Dinner began like dinner the previous night. The adults at the table were already a few drinks in and for the most part they didn’t seem to notice that there had been an additional member added to the table. Amelia, who was shockingly sober, was a gracious host to Mrs. Hart-Stanford, and got her seated at the other end of the table. She ensured that she had all the food she needed, all the wine she wanted, and then settled herself down at the far end to talk with her parents and her aunt and uncle.

  Charles, Stuart, and Charlotte sat with Mrs. Hart-Stanford, putting some bodies and some distance between them and the rest of the table. They waited for her to settle in before they considered asking any questions and were surprised when it was she who spoke first.

  “The Hall has changed a great deal since I was here last.” She said, looking around the dining room taking in all in. She liked the new owners of the Hall, the new generation of Fergusons. She liked the look of them. “It’s nice to see that it’s still so full of life.”

  “You were with my grandfather for a long time,” Charles said, ignoring the food on his plate and instead focusing on the woman at the table. She was doing no such thing, she was already digging into her dinner.

  “I was. And then with your father for a while, though I doubt he would remember me.” She grinned. “At least not fondly. I was his governess when he was young.”

  Charles chucked. “No, I doubt he has many fond memories of his governesses. What made you leave the Hall?”

  “It was just time, really. The kids were grown up. I had no job left here and I was a bit too old to be a maid. So I said my goodbyes and retired. It was nice to retire so young in life. Not many get to do that.” She grinned. “Though my husband still worked so we got on fine.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Charles looked at Charlotte. He really wanted her to be the one to lead into this, but he had a feeling that it was something that he had to do. After all, it was his family that had mucked things up to begin with. “Mrs. Hart-Stanford” He began.

  “Oh, call me Annabelle, dear, Mrs. Hart-Stanford sounds so formal!”

  “Annabelle, we wanted you to come here so we could talk about Emma Hart.” He watched her face cloud over with the name and a frown pull at her mouth.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name,” she muttered and picked up her wine glass to have a long drink. “It was a tragic thing that happened to Emma. It wasn’t right, you know. She didn’t do it.”

  Charlotte leaned forward in her seat and could feel Stuart do the same beside her. “If she didn’t do it then who did?”

  Annabelle looked at the two young children. Their eyes were filled with the mystery of it all, but there was something about the girl’s eyes that caught Annabelle’s attention. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you, dear?”

  Charlotte nodded. “I’ve seen her. I’ve dreamed of her. I lived her death.” She blinked back the tears that pushed forward at the vividness of it all as it flooded back into her memory. “It was terrible.”

  “It truly was.” Annabelle nodded. “Every Hart that’s ever worked or stayed at Ferguson Hall is plagued by those dreams and haunted by her ghost. There is no escaping it. I watched her die thousands of times in the years I was here and there was nothing I could do about it. But I do know that she was innocent. Her sister, Bethany figured that out within a week of being at the Hall.”

  “Was the guilty party ever punished?” Charles asked. He picked up his dinner roll and took a generous bite. He figured if she wasn’t going to ignore her food than he may as well put niceties aside as well.

  “In a way.” Annabelle shrugged. “Sir Cuthbert would hear no word that anyone but Emma was guilty. Perhaps because he couldn’t live with the idea that he’d acted so hastily. Or perhaps because he truly believed she was. But Bethany discovered that the former head cook had been poisoning Lady Edith; every day she would slip a little into her food and eventually the poor woman’s body just gave out.”

  “One of the cooks, but why?” Charlotte asked

  Annabelle drank more wine. “It seems that Lady Edith had a falling out with her over a meal that wasn’t up to standards at one of the many gatherings they held here. She embarrassed the woman in front of everyone and she only kept her job because she agreed to take a cut in her wages and be demoted. She was no longer the head cook. After that the staff saw to it that she never worked again in this county and probably starved to death by the end of the winter, but Emma was already dead and there was no bringing her back. It was too little, too late, really.”

  Charles nodded. He could understand that completely. The intentions had been pure but nothing would bring back the life that had been lost.

  He reached across the table and took Annabelle’s hand. Her skin was soft and frail underneath his, but he grasped it firmly.

  “What do you think we should do, Annabelle, to lay this poor soul to rest?”

  Annabelle turned to Charlotte. “Where did you see her ghost, dear?”

  “In the room I’m staying in, but it was more of a vision really. I’ve had the dream twice since I’ve been here, and each time when I wake, she is there at the end of the bed.”

  “And what floor is the room on, dear; the second?” Charlotte nodded.

  “That’s the floor with her portrait, unless it’s been moved.”

  “No, all the portraits are still on the second floor and always have been, as far as I’m aware.” Said Charles.

  “Well they certainly were, in all the time I was here.” Stated Annabelle. “What I think is in order is some sort of apology, a pardon if you will, from a Ferguson. Wouldn’t you want that, if you were in her shoes? We can’t undo what’s been done, but we can try to make amends!” When Annabelle looked at the others, they were all nodding in agreement. “Charles, what I propose is that we go to the second floor, stand in front of the portrait of Sir Cuthbert and make the apology. Perhaps write down what you are going to say, we don’t want any more toes trodden on accidently, do we?”

  “Annabelle you’re a marvel, it’s an excellent idea, I’m sure it will work. I’ll go and write it out now. And with that Charles hurried off to his study, to immediately begin work
on the apology.

  At about 9, with dinner finished and the others gathered in the drawing room, having coffee and brandy’s, Charles, Annabelle, Charlotte and Stuart slipped out and up to the second floor. They gathered in front of the portrait of Sir Cuthbert.

  “Charles” said Annabelle, “Perhaps you’d like to begin.”

  “Oh yes, right.” He cleared his throat.

  “I, Charles Ferguson the fifth, as owner of Ferguson Hall and keeper of all that has occurred here now and since its creation, absolve Emma Hart of her perceived guilt. I condemn the actions of Sir Cuthbert. I apologize on behalf of my family and my lineage for the pain that has plagued the Hart family, and I hope that Emma finds peace.”

  Annabelle nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “And I accept your apology, Charles the fifth, no matter how late it is in arriving to our ears.”

  The moment the words were out of her mouth, the lights flickered above them. Charlotte glanced up at the chandelier and felt the hair on her skin rise. Her attention was drawn to the end of the corridor, where she saw Emma standing with her hands folded in front of her and a smile on her face. She wasn’t frantically gesturing. She wasn’t trying to speak. She was just standing there looking serene and content.

  Charlotte looked over and saw that Annabelle’s eyes were also on Emma. But then she looked over to Charles and her brother and found them looking amazed with their mouths open. “I see her.” Said Charles “I see Emma.”

  “Me too.” Gasped Stuart. The older lady smiled back at her ancestor and her eyes welled up a little. “It’s time for you to rest, my dear,” she said, her voice soft.

  Emma’s spirit nodded. The lights overhead flickered once more and then she was gone, and each one of them felt a sense of peace and tranquillity wash over them. Charles knew that things had finally been set right, at least where Emma Hart was concerned. He didn’t know if it was a Christmas miracle. He didn’t know what to call it. But he was definitely happy that they’d gone through with bringing Annabelle to dinner. It felt like it was something that needed to happen. It felt like things had finally been laid to rest.

  Epilogue

  After all of her concerns about the holiday being a complete disaster, Charlotte was actually pretty happy with the way things had turned out. Sure, some of the conversations had been soul draining, but she’d lived one of her best life experiences over this Christmas.

  She’d seen a ghost. She’d lived a past life. And she’d been part of setting 600 years’ worth of family strife to rest. She doubted that anyone of her friends back at uni would believe her when she told them that was what she’d done over the holidays, but it didn’t matter. She knew that she’d played her part.

  * * *

  She had a feeling that there would be many more dinner and tea dates at Ferguson Hall from now on. She had a feeling that she would be making a great effort to be better friends with her cousin, Amelia. For one, because Amelia could use a friend who didn’t belong to high society, and secondly because Charles was an interesting person.

  They were a good couple, despite their differences and Charlotte had a great deal of hope for them and the life that they were going to make for themselves at Ferguson Hall. Charlotte wanted to make sure that she was a part of it.

  Her parents had barely noticed her and her brother’s absence over the course of the two days. They’d been too drunk or too busy trying to keep up with conversation to pay attention to their children’s whereabouts. When they got back home however, they were pleased to hear that they’d had a good holiday.

  “It was nice to see how the other half lived,” Charlotte joked, casting a sideways glance at Stuart as they were once again gathered at the dinner table over beef and potatoes.

  “Oh yeah. Those beds were to die for. And the food!” Stuart moaned. “Are you sure it would have been impolite to ask for a take-away container?” He sent his mum a grin.

  “It most definitely would have been rude and you know it,” she chastised. But she couldn’t help but remember how good the food was and wish the same. She’d wanted to take the desserts back home. But alas, it wasn’t to be.

  “I thought it was all a little fancy for my taste,” Harry said as he poured more gravy on his potatoes.

  They all laughed. “That sounds about right,” Charlotte joked and ignored his pointed look.

  “You’re still not too old to ground, miss, so I would watch your tongue,” he warned.

  She held her hands up in surrender and went back to eating her dinner.

  When she went back to uni, she was going to miss this. She’d been in such a hurry to get away and go to uni that she hadn’t even thought to consider what she was leaving behind. And now being back for the holidays she was reminded of just how much she enjoyed being around her family.

  The whole experience at the Hall had another effect too: she wanted to look into the history of her family and see where their skeletons were hiding. The events of Christmas had sparked an interest in genealogy that had never really existed for her. But Charles knew his family history so well. It was a part of him. She knew nothing about where she came from or what her family had done. She wanted to know. She needed to know. What ghosts were in her past? What accomplishments and scandals?

  Who knew that so much could change over a short holiday, she thought as she continued to eat. And all because of one haunting.

  The Haunting of Crystal Hall Village

  Prologue

  Bebington, Merseyside

  April 3, 1901

  * * *

  It was almost dusk. It had to be dusk for them to smuggle the prisoners out of the town. No one was going to approve of the action, even if they all agreed with the outcome. Everyone knew what they were and how they needed to be dealt with, but no one wanted to step up to do it. That was fine. He knew what needed to be done.

  It hadn’t been hard to convince the boys to help him. They weren’t brilliant, but they were superstitious and they followed orders. And with the nine of them, he knew that it wouldn’t be difficult to get the five prisoners over to the hill.

  He’d spent the day preparing for it. He’d gathered the wood and built the platform. It would hold all of them. There was no sense making a fuss of it. It was better to do it all in one show.

  He felt a little bad depriving every one of the show, but he knew that they really didn’t want to see it. They didn’t have the stomach for what needed to be done. They wanted to just lock them up. They thought that little cell could keep everyone safe.

  He wouldn’t be fooled. He wouldn’t be that naïve. Sure, each one of them had a pretty face, but he could see the darkness behind it. He knew what was lurking in the shadows of those seductive eyes. The Devil in there and there was only one way to purge the Devil. That was with fire.

  He’d tried to convince the sheriff. He’d tried to convince the mayor. But they all just shook their heads. They didn’t want to see five young girls dealt with in that way. They didn’t want to admit what they were, what they had become.

  These five young girls who they had watched grow up. These girls they’d seen grow from toddlers into woman of marrying age. But they would marry no one. They had chosen their husband, and he was Satan. And they needed to be removed from this earth because of that choice.

  He watched the sun sink lower towards the horizon. It would soon be time.

  He had a feeling they knew what was coming for them. He had a feeling they were aware of the fate they faced. When he had walked by their cell today, they had stared at him with soulless eyes but they had grinned.

  It was as if they welcomed the end that was in store for them. And, why shouldn’t they? Hell was filled with fire, was it not? Was he not sending them to their chosen destination? Did that not make him a good man?

  He shook his head. It didn’t matter if he was a good man. He was doing what needed to be done. He was doing what no one else would do. And he would be right with God when his time came. He wou
ld be judged for the evil he had removed from the earth and he would be rewarded for it. He was certain of that.

  The rap on the door startled him from his thoughts. He shouted for his guests to come in.

  The group of young men filed into the room, their faces aglow with nervous anticipation and perhaps a little fear. It was only natural to feel a little fear in cases such as this. The women should be feared. What they were doing should not be taken lightly. But it was all necessary.

  “Are you ready for this?” He asked the assembled group and watched each head nod in silent agreement.

  There would be no questions. It wasn’t in their nature to question authority. They would do as they were told and that would be the end of it. And that would be the end of the problem that had plagued the village for far too long.

  “Good.” He offered a curt nod. “Grab your packs. The moment you hear the night bell we get them.”

  No one would stop them. They could have taken them in the middle of the day and no one would have stopped them, but he knew that no one wanted to see them be led away to their deaths. So, he’d agreed to take them away at night, to deal with them under the cover of darkness.

  It was a small sacrifice for him to make. After all, night-time was the best time for a bonfire.

  Chapter 1

  A Better Place

  * * *

  Crystal Hill Village

  Bebington, Merseyside

  June 19, 1975

  * * *

  The summer air hung heavily in the village and they were certain that a storm was going to pull in. But that was not unusual. Summer storms, they were used to, and they rode them out.