"I only have a short time before I must return. Are you often here?" the voice asked.
Despair welled up within him as he answered, "I am always here. I cannot leave." He felt his energy start to drain and tried to turn off his feelings.
"I may leave," she said, "but I have nowhere else to go. It seems we are both trapped in the darkness here in one way or another. I will return and speak with you again."
"I look forward to it," he said softly. "I can look forward to so little else. A voice in the darkness must be my solace."
"Fare you well," she said, and he knew she was gone.
William now had something new to contemplate. What could compel a ghost to come or go, especially as it seemed she would have been willing to stay and speak with him? Briefly he wondered if she truly was a ghost, but there seemed no other explanation. The cell had no windows and the walls were too thick to admit sound from the outside. Furthermore her voice was not muffled as it would have been coming through the wall. It had sounded as if she was right next to him and clearly, she heard him although he had not spoken loudly.
Anywhere else he might have questioned his conclusion. The idea of a singing ghost would have been ridiculous. However, this was Rosings Park and the normal rules did not seem to apply here. He chuckled softly, feeling the frustration and despair lift slightly. He finally had something to which he might look forward. She had promised to return when she could. That felt even more heartening than the arrival soon after of the silent servant and his blessed lantern.
William might not know how he would escape, yet for some reason her voice gave him hope for the future. When the servant left, and William sat once more in darkness he was smiling for the first time in over a month.
Chapter 9: Haunting conversations
The ghost voice returned two feedings later. As before she alerted him to her presence with a song, although this time she simply sang the refrain once then stopped.
"I am glad you have returned," William said, the relief clear in his voice.
"I said I would, although as before I cannot stay long."
"I am grateful for whatever time you can give me. I have been wondering at how you know that song. You say your aunt taught it to you. Where was she from?"
"She spent part of her youth near the Peaks in Derbyshire. She said it was a local song that reminded her strongly of her home."
"That would explain it. My family also comes from Derbyshire. My father heard the song often growing up and hearing my mother sing it pleased him."
The ghost explained she had learned much about singing from her aunt during visits. Both of them felt her voice was better suited to folk songs and ballads than to the classical pieces so popular among ladies of the Ton. A ballad could sound good without requiring the technical excellence of pitch and breathing control a more accomplished singer could claim.
"I found nothing lacking in the performance," William said.
"Which only proves the point," the ghost said with a light chuckle. "Had I sung an aria you might have noticed the flaws in my delivery."
William gave her the point and asked which ballads she preferred to sing. A short discussion of the songs and their various merits ensued. All too soon the ghost announced the need to leave.
"I will return when I can," she said.
"I look forward to the next song," William answered.
As before he thought about the conversation. He was even less inclined to think the experience the product of a feverish mind. On consideration, William did not think he could have made up a conversational partner of such wit nor come up with some of the ideas presented. In fact, he had not known two of the songs she mentioned, although he supposed ignorance was no proof of his sanity.
~o~
The ghost once again greeted him with a song. This time the refrain came from one of the other ballads they had discussed. William smiled to hear it and greeted the ghost gladly when the singing ended.
"We discussed music last time. What say you of books today?" she cheerfully replied.
William took great delight in their discussion although it once again gave him cause to question his sanity. His social obligations required him to speak with many women, most of whom did nothing more than parrot his own statements back to him. He had never met a woman who seemed equally comfortable quoting Cicero in the original Latin, defending the ideas of Mary Wollstonecraft and discussing the satire in Castle Rackrent. His ghostly voice not only knew the topics well, she supported her ideas with liveliness and humor. He felt lost when she had to leave and took up the conversation again when she returned on what might have been the next day.
By the end of the second discussion of books he was perfectly resigned to his madness. If he could not enjoy such conversation with a living partner, he would enjoy the company of the ghostly voice.
~o~
The next time William heard the voice she sang the refrain of a ballad telling the story of a man betrayed by the one he loved.
"Have you ever been betrayed?" he asked after they exchanged greetings.
"I have," she said with sadness in her voice. "After my father died, everything changed. I felt betrayed by everyone around me."
"Tell me," William asked quietly. "Share your burden and I will share mine."
"It is not so much of a burden as it was then. I have been able to reflect and understand the situation for all but one case. If you wish it, I will tell what I have experienced and learned."
"Please do," he said, thinking that hearing the troubles of another might make his own feel less weighty.
He heard a sigh before she began. "My father was a gentleman of minor importance and even less diligence. He saved nothing for the future and did nothing to protect his family. The property was entailed to the male line. As my father had no son to inherit, it went to a distant cousin. My mother, four sisters and I were left with no home and no support beyond the interest on my mother's five-thousand-pound settlement."
"That is a betrayal indeed," William said with no little disgust. "A man should provide better for his family if he has the means to do so."
"The betrayal felt worse as he had laughed at my mother's fear of the entail for years. He ignored the pleas of my uncles to set funds aside. He did not even bother to make a will to distribute any portions of the estate not covered in the entail. As a result my cousin inherited everything."
"I mean no insult to you when I say I believe your father's behavior to be shameful."
"I take no insult, for I agree with you, as did my mother's brother when he learned. He was furious when he came to help my other uncle, her sister's husband, to settle my father's affairs. At the time I thought my uncles were both excessively harsh in their behavior towards all of us. Now I realize they were protecting themselves from my mother."
"Why would they need to protect themselves?" William asked, truly confused at the thought.
"My mother is a small-minded woman who rarely displays anything resembling good sense. She is also extremely selfish and very persistent in getting her way. For the whole of her marriage she consistently overspent her allowance and my father could never be bothered to stop her. Neither of my uncles was willing to take her into their homes or support her spending habits, which would be the inevitable result of such an invitation. They also knew if they showed the slightest kindness, she would find a way to take advantage."
"So they simply left you to the mercy of your cousin?" William asked in surprise.
"Not entirely. Actually they did quite well by us. Both insisted they would not take any of us in beyond my eldest sister who was already visiting my mother's brother in London when my father died. He accepted her only because my uncle believed he could easily find her a husband. My father was as willing to spend all his personal income as my mother, although unlike her he did not exceed his income. Nearly all the money went towards the purchase of rare books and expensive port."
"I will admit to having purchased my
share of both," William said, "although only with a small part of my income."
She chuckled lightly. "Because they were purchased with my father's personal income, my uncles considered the books, port and a few other luxury items as outside the entail. Before my cousin arrived, my uncle packed up all the books, the remaining port, my father's clothes and any other personal effects of value. He took them back with him to London and sold the lot. My uncles then used the money to purchase a small cottage for us to live in, set up trust funds as small dowries for me and my sisters and added the rest into my mother's trust fund to increase the interest she could collect each quarter. With the additions, the funds would be sufficient for us to live comfortably in the smaller setting, although there would be nothing extra for the ribbons and frippery my mother and two youngest sisters adore."
"Your uncles did do very well by you. What went wrong?"
The ghostly voice uttered a musical laugh. "Ah, so you guessed there was a problem because I am here, not there. They expected me to do the accounts and rein in my mother's spending. I believe that task would have resembled the relationship Sisyphus had with his rock. What none of us expected was my mother refusing to allow me or my next youngest sister to join them in the cottage. She had no intention of letting me even think of controlling her spending. In fact, she told us she did not care where either of us went so long as it was not with her."
"What did your uncles say?"
"They did not know. I saw no point in speaking with them. Before the funeral my mother's brother told me that he would not take either of us because it was unlikely that we would ever marry. He had no intention of supporting a spinster out of his own funds when there was the cottage and the means to keep us. He knew if he took either of us even for a visit our mother would never take us back."
"Why would he think you would not marry?"
"Beyond the fact of our poor dowries and lack of connections neither of us has the beauty of my oldest and youngest sisters. In addition, my uncle considers us over-educated. My father taught me as he would a son, including teaching me to be outspoken in my beliefs. My next younger sister was not educated the same way, but she is considered the plainest of us and, knowing that, she chose to set aside all vanity and immerse herself in the teachings of the Reverend Fordyce. She can preach a tired morality text for any occasion."
"I read a few of Fordyce's sermons once to see if they were appropriate for my sister," William ventured.
"Your verdict?" the voice asked teasingly.
"They most definitely were not. I can understand why your uncle might consider her obsession a drawback, although I would not consider your education in the same light. I have enjoyed our conversation because of your wit and intelligence. I find the inane chatter of most women far more off-putting than the reasoned opinions of a well-fed mind."
"And yet it is my sister who married my father's heir, not I," she said with another light laugh, "a fact for which I am daily grateful."
"How did that come about?"
"My cousin arrived intending to offer for one of us. My youngest two sisters are both too silly and too young. He decided to marry me despite my best efforts to discourage him and my next younger sister's best efforts to attract him. When Mama refused to take us with her, the only way the two of us could stay at my family home with propriety was if one of us married him right away. He overheard my discussion with my sister in which I was more than usually frank about my disgust at the idea. He was understandably insulted. I should never have said such things aloud even if I was provoked. After all, he was kind enough to allow our family to stay at our home until the cottage was ready even if that kindness was merely meant to make himself appear magnanimous to the neighbors. I was sincerely grateful, although not enough to marry the man, who I found repugnant in all other ways. I had always wished to marry for love if I married at all but barring that I must insist on at least being able to respect the man I married. I could not respect my cousin. At any rate, after hearing my opinions he decided to marry my sister and throw me from the house, sending me here. Thankfully my sister convinced him to send me away in a respectable manner in the carriage with a maid for company rather than tossing me and my trunk onto the back of the donkey cart."
"Were you and your sister close?"
"Not that sister, although in the end she proved the most thoughtful. We had little in common except that Mama disliked us both. My mother was angry that we were not the sons she had hoped for and she never could understand either of us. I thought I had a close friendship with my oldest sister, but apparently that was an illusion. She did not exactly betray me but learning that she did not care for me in the way I cared for her was the deepest hurt I suffered at my father's death. My uncle told me she was happy to move on and be rid of our entire family. She did not even see the need to bid any of us farewell. That is the one case I cannot understand." The voice was sad now and William heard another sigh.
"After my father died, everything changed," he said, deliberately echoing her words. "I felt far too young to take on management of an estate and the guardianship of my much younger sister. There was so much work to do, so much to learn, and I was not ready to take my father's place. All my relationships changed. People I thought were my friends now just wanted a piece of the wealth. I quickly learned they had never really cared about me, only about what they could gain."
"Did you have no one to whom you could turn for help?" she asked.
"Only my favorite cousin, but he is in the army and was on the continent at the time. He shares guardianship of my sister. She was too young to help even if she had not felt devastated by our father's death. I did my best for her, but I know I often fell short. The whole situation was so overwhelming."
"And then you were betrayed?"
"It was the final piece of a betrayal that had been building for years. My father's godson spent much of his time at the estate with me when he was growing up. In many ways he was nearly my brother. We played together, studied together and when we were old enough my father sent us to school together. At school he began to show himself jealous of all I had. He started running with a bad crowd, playing tricks on me and cheating to make his way through. My father doted on his godson, and I did not wish to pain him by carrying tales. Instead I cleaned up after the boy. In retrospect, I should have let him face the consequences of his actions. Instead of helping him, I taught him he could get away with anything."
"That is hindsight talking. You were young yourself and could not have known then what you know now."
William sighed. "A part of me accepts that, but another part feels to blame for what my sometime-brother has become. By the time we went to University he had ceased to do more than the minimum of effort to get by. He drank, gambled and spent time with loose women. I did not find out until later, but he took to impersonating me and opening lines of credit in my name. When he failed to pay, the merchants went to my father for collection of the debts. My father believed it was I who was the wastrel and gamester. He died believing I had squandered what was given to me and that his godson was the better man. I found out too late to set things straight."
"But this man hurt you further, did he not?"
"Yes. My father left him a valuable living on condition he would take orders. My former friend insisted, quite correctly, that he was not the kind of man to be a clergyman. I gave him a fair sum in exchange for his written acknowledgment that I owed him nothing further. He wasted what he was given and came back for more. I refused. Then I learned he had yet again opened lines of credit in my name. I settled the accounts but published notice that a thief was using my identity and that I would not pay anyone else who offered this man credit. I could pay in cash for what I needed. I still occasionally receive requests for payment from merchants who have been duped by him."
"How shameful and shortsighted of him. You strike me as someone who would have given all the help he needed if only he had treated you as a brother should."
The voice interrupted William then, "I am so very sorry. I wish I could stay, but they are calling for me. I must go immediately. I am sorry." He could tell she was gone.
He wondered again if there was some way that he might be hearing a living woman. How else could someone be calling for her? How else could she come and go like that. He just could not figure out how it was that she seemed to be right next to him as she talked. He would have to have to ask her next time. He thought he might ask her name as well. A lovely voice like hers deserved to be called by name. He was still worried about revealing too much, although he already had that day. He did not think she would betray him.
With his companion gone, he had some time to wait until the next meal arrived. He got up from where he had been sitting on the cot, found his spot on the wall and began his exercise. Five steps forward. Say a prayer. Turn. Five steps back. Pray again.
Chapter 10: Improvements
Lizzy found herself surprised by the improvement in her mood after her first discussion with the poor trapped ghost. She would have been pleased anyway at finding such a pleasant secluded spot. Sitting on the hidden bench, it felt as if she had escaped everything in the house for a time, even though she was leaning her head against its walls. More than that, though, the ghost intrigued Lizzy. He sounded so lonely. She wanted to bring him ease.
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