The dust made Millie sneeze and cough as she worked. As she cleared the room – it had once been a large bedroom, but now was confined to storage – she noticed a small door, tucked into the groove of the wall. If she hadn’t been looking, she almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed it.
“That’s funny,” Millie said. “I wonder what this is. A closet?” She fitted her fingers into the grooves and the door slid open, creaking on the hinges.
The room was small – it would have been the perfect size for a walk-in closet. But Millie could tell from the design that it had been originally built with the house, which meant that it couldn’t have been a closet, as furniture was used in the days of the Georgian era. The wall was covered with faded yellow paper, and there was an odd telephone-looking device with a tube on one end and a cup on the other.
Slowly, it dawned on Millie.
“This is a nursery,” she said out loud. “I guess it was attached to the mother’s room, for convenience.”
The hair rose on the back of Millie’s neck as she heard the crying sound once more. She shivered. It was louder than ever in the nursery – even louder than it had been in the attic.
Millie ran out of the nursery in fear. She felt as though her feet could not carry her as quickly as she wished to go. Every second brought new, horrible thoughts into her mind and she gasped in fear as she felt her lungs slowly start to suffocate once again. What’s happening to me, Millie thought in a blind panic.
The crying grew louder and louder. Millie shuddered and shrieked in fright when she realized that the sound was following her through the house. She ran through the dusty hallways, pushing her way into abandoned rooms and darting through doors, desperately searching for escape.
“Please!” Millie screamed. “Please, stop haunting me!”
The crying grew louder and more panicked than before. Millie could hear choking sobs and gasps and cries of agony. Tears streamed down her face as she stumbled into the pantry. Millie almost tripped on the uneven stone floor as she ran into the kitchen, her eyes blinded with tears. When she heard the sound of a door opening, she screamed in fright and fainted.
“Millie?!” Cecil’s voice was edged with alarm. “Millie, what’s going on here?”
Millie came to in Cecil’s arms. He was holding her with great tenderness and his handsome face was etched with alarm. She blinked weakly, closing her eyes and sagging against his chest.
Cecil half-carried Millie outside. His car, a new jalopy, was parked in the drive.
“Millie, what’s the matter? I just got back from Scotland, and I thought I’d pop round to check on you!”
Millie took a deep breath. She swayed unsteadily on her feet and Cecil supported her.
“Cecil, you’re gonna think I’m absolutely crazy,” Millie said. She suppressed a sob. “But I think there’s something wrong with that house! It’s haunted!”
Cecil didn’t laugh. His features turned grave.
“Millie, why not come by for tea,” he said slowly. “I think I’ve got a story you might be interested to hear.”
Half an hour later, Millie was bundled in Cecil’s library, wrapped in a woolen blanket and sitting in front of a raging fire. Even though it was the end of summer and the temperatures had yet to cool, Millie felt chilled to the bone. She felt as though all happiness had been sucked out of her, as though she would never relax or feel contentment for the rest of her life.
Cecil handed Millie a steaming mug of creamy tea and a plate with small sandwiches and tarts. Millie’s hand shook so badly that she almost dropped the plate, and Cecil swooped back down to put it aside.
“Millie, I want you to tell me everything that’s happened,” Cecil said. “Don’t leave anything out, all right?”
Millie nodded.
“I feel terribly silly,” she said. She blew on the oily surface of her tea before taking a sip. The hot, sweet liquid seemed to have restorative powers, and after a few more sips, she almost felt strong enough to talk.
“That house,” Millie said, shaking her head uncertainly. “I swear, it’s haunted.” She shivered. “There’s something there – something really bad, Cecil. Like, a poltergeist?” She frowned. “Do you even have those in England?”
Cecil didn’t reply. He sat in the overstuffed armchair across from Millie and took a scone from the tea tray.
“Millie, did Linda tell you about the last Baron FitzWalter?”
Millie shook her head. The innocuous-sounding name now sent shivers of fright down her spine.
“No,” she said uncertainly. “I mean, only that he was the last Baron of the house.” She shivered. “Did he… did he do something bad? Did he kill someone?”
Cecil shook his head.
“No,” he said. He sighed. “Baron FitzWalter – Edward – was married to Julia.”
“Linda did tell me that part,” Millie replied quietly. “And they had a son, what was his name? Thomas something?”
“Thomas Edward, named for his father,” Cecil said. His voice was low and circumspect. “Baron FitzWalter fell absolutely, madly in love with Lady Julia Clowther on his twenty-first birthday. She was from a noble family in the south of England, and he knew that he had to be with her.”
“But then she broke his heart and he killed her?” Millie shuddered. Just thinking about it was enough to sent shivers of terror down her spine.
“No,” Cecil said. “They were very happy together, they were very much in love. For the time, the 1860s, it was a remarkably successful marriage. The Baron and Julia had difficulty conceiving. When she finally fell pregnant, there was much celebration in the land. And when she gave birth to a boy, Thomas Edward, the Baron gave her an entire wing of the house to do with as she pleased.”
Something about the story frightened Millie, although she could not say why. She was afraid to know what happened.
“The Baron traveled to the Indian Empire in 1868,” Cecil said. He frowned.
“And?” Millie leaned closer, until she was perched on the edge of her seat. “What then?”
Cecil looked uncomfortable.
“I do hate to admit this,” he said. “But the details have never exactly been…well, they’ve never been quite worked out.”
Millie blinked.
Cecil chuckled nervously.
“I don’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “Especially since you’re in that great big house, all alone. But something happened to Julia and Thomas Edward before the Baron was able to return from the Raj.”
“I hear crying, all the time,” Millie said quickly. “It sounds so human!”
Cecil nodded.
“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “It appears that one of the servants – perhaps Julia’s maid, Mary Chambers, went mad and murdered her mistress and the wee lad. Of course, no one could say for sure. Being a family of…nobility…this was kept under wraps for a very long time. Mary was charged and sent to her death, and the house was kept shut from the day the Baron returned home.”
Millie felt a shock, as if she’d fallen into a pit of icy water.
“The Baron never recovered,” Cecil added quietly. “He went into a deep, spiraling depression that lasted for years. He became a cruel man, prone to hard drinking and fighting with others at the village tavern. He eventually died – he was still young – but most people think it was from a broken heart.”
The news left Millie reeling.
“I think today, most would agree that perhaps Mary was mistreated by the Baroness. Perhaps she went mad and attacked her mistress in a moment of frustration,” Cecil said.
“It was a horrible incident, one that left a blight on the family.” He sighed heavily. “Oh, dear,” Cecil said quietly. “I was so hoping that I wouldn’t need to bring such a matter up with you.”
Millie nodded slowly.
“I see,” she said. Tears came to her eyes and she buried her face in her hands, weeping. As ashamed as she was for crying in front of someone she barely knew, she couldn�
��t keep from sobbing.
As she cried, Millie felt something released inside of her – the sadness from the story of Baron FitzWalter, his young family, and Millie’s own tragic past – and float gently out of her body, carrying her to a place that was numbing and calm.
“Millie?” Cecil reached out and placed a hand on Millie’s shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
Millie sniffled and sobbed. As much as she knew she shouldn’t be telling Cecil something so personal, she felt completely open and vulnerable around him. Cecil handed Millie a tissue and she wiped her eyes dry before clearing her throat and taking a deep breath.
“I know I shouldn’t be telling you this,” Millie sniffled. “We just met! But…” She trailed off. “I feel very connected with Westbridge Mansion, and not just because of how beautiful it is.” She paused, then launched into a story about her late husband and perished child. By the time she was finished talking, Cecil had tears in his eyes.
“Yes,” Cecil said, clearing his throat. “It’s clear to me now why you felt so drawn to Westbridge.” He took a long sip of his tea. “Millie – I’m not sure what your religious beliefs are. But I’m a Catholic, as was Baron FitzWalter and Julia. And I believe that my parish priest – Father Abbott – will bless the home, and drive the remaining sadness away.”
Millie gave him a sad smile. “You think that will help?” She sniffled. “I love the house so much, and I want to stay. But if this continues…” She trailed off nervously. “I’m sorry, Cecil. I’m afraid I’ll have to move.”
Cecil nodded. “I understand,” he said. “Why don’t you stay here tonight, in one of the guest rooms? I’ll call Father Abbott in the morning and ask him to come right away.”
~~~~~
As she drifted off to sleep that night, Millie felt more relaxed than she had in weeks.
Chapter Five – Father Abbott’s Visit
In the morning, Millie ate a nervous breakfast with Cecil as they waited for Father Abbott to arrive. Millie had never been particularly religious, but she couldn’t deny that she had a deep hope Father Abbott would restore Westbridge Mansion to tranquility.
“I have a good feeling about this,” Millie said as she climbed into the passenger seat of Cecil’s car. “Thank you so much.”
Cecil nodded.
“To be quite honest, I should have had the Father visit before the house was sold,” he said. He chuckled uncomfortably. “I haven’t exactly listened to previous owners about why they were leaving so quickly. No one was able to explain it quite like you,” he added. “I know that probably makes me quite a cad.”
Millie shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “Maybe it just means you weren’t ready to hear it until now.”
Cecil nodded. The two lapsed into a comfortable silence as Cecil drove, and by the time they arrived at Westbridge Mansion, Millie was feeling almost relaxed.
Father Abbott arrived at ten-thirty. He was an older man, with long black robes and a kind smile. Millie liked him immediately.
“Cecil!” Father Abbott hugged Cecil tightly. “It’s been a long time,” he said. “I’m glad you gave me a rang.”
Cecil nodded.
“Father, this is Millie Pointer,” he said. “She recently bought Westbridge Mansion – she’s from America,” he said.
“Pleased to meet you, Father,” Millie said. Father Abbott took her hand and pressed it warmly.
“It’s very good to meet you, too, Millie,” Father said. “Now I want you to tell me about all of the activity that’s been going on.”
The three sat in the kitchen and Millie made tea as she explained the happenings inside the house. Westbridge Mansion seemed to know that Father Abbot was there – as soon as he’d stepped inside, Millie had felt a cold shudder race down her back.
Millie had barely finished an explanation of what had happened the first night she’d heard the crying sounds when she felt a deep, cold feeling descend over her head. She stopped speaking at once, covering her mouth with both hands.
“Millie?” Father Abbott frowned. “What’s the matter?”
“Do you feel that?” Millie asked, getting to her feet and wrapping her arms around her thin frame. She shivered. “It’s so cold in here!”
Father Abbott gave her a strange look.
“Why, no, child,” he said. “If anything, I feel a bit warm.” He fanned himself.
Millie blinked. Suddenly, with a pang of sadness, she realized that Father Abbott didn’t believe her tale.
“Father Abbott,” Millie said quickly. “You have to believe me, I swear!” She turned to Cecil in a blind panic. “Cecil, you’ll tell him, won’t you?”
To her immense frustration, Cecil remained silent.
“Calm down,” Father Abbott said. “This house isn’t going to take advantage of us, Millie. I am here now, and I promise I will resolve everything in good faith for you.”
“You don’t understand,” Millie said quickly. “Father Abbott, something horrible happened here! Why, I can feel it – it’s in my bones!”
Father Abbott gave Millie a very strange look.
“Millie, my dear, perhaps you aren’t feeling well enough for a visit today after all,” he said. “Perhaps it would be better if I popped round tomorrow, or perhaps next week?”
“No,” Millie said. She got to her feet and shook her head. “Father Abbott, please!” She realized that her voice was tinged with panic.
No, she thought. I can’t lose it, I can’t lose my mind over this! Father Abbot will never help me if he thinks I’m going crazy!
“Perhaps if I may,” Cecil said, glancing at Millie with alarm. “Father Abbott, Ms. Pointer is quite upset – you do understand, don’t you? She’s not used to being alone in such a grand house such as Westbridge.”
The elderly priest frowned.
“Then perhaps Ms. Pointer should have stayed in her own country,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“Father Abbott, please,” Millie begged. “Please, hear the story of this house…and then you may make your decision.”
Father Abbott sighed.
“Alright,” he said. “Millie, please, forgive me. Please, continue. Tell me of everything that’s bothering you.”
Millie frowned.
“It started the night I moved in,” she said. “I kept hearing wailing and crying, you know – almost like a child! A frightened child, a child who is all alone in the world, without anyone else!”
Father Abbott gestured for Millie to continue.
“And then, oh, I don’t know!” Millie cried in frustration. Tears of fear and real shame welled in her eyes. “Oh, I know you think I’m crazy!”
“It’s not that, child,” Father Abbott said in a soothing voice. Millie got the impression that this was the tones the priest would use for frightened children and hysterical women. “It’s just that the Lord works very hard to make sure no true haunting is real. Do you believe in our Lord, Millie?”
Millie nodded wordlessly.
“Yes,” she said, biting her lip. “Although…”
“Yes?” Father Abbott cocked his head to the side. “Please, Millie – tell me.”
Millie took a deep breath.
“Once, I was very devout,” she said quietly. “But after my husband and son died…” She trailed off as hot tears dripped down her face. “Oh, it’s useless! You won’t believe me anyway!”
The look Father Abbott and Cecil exchanged filled Millie with dread.
“Child, perhaps your faith has been shaken,” Father Abbott said. He reached into his worn leather bag and pulled out a few small books, holding them out patiently and waiting for Millie to accept. When she didn’t take them from his grasp, Father Abbott frowned and gently set them down on the table.
“I know my faith has been shaken,” Millie said irritably.
“Perhaps that the reason behind why you are imagining all of this,” Father Abbott said gently. “Cecil, what do you think?”
Cecil frowned.
>
“Tell him what you told me,” Millie said, whirling to face Cecil and crossing her arms over her chest. “You can be honest with him!”
Cecil nodded slowly.
“Father Abbott, it’s true that a tragedy took place in Westbridge Mansion long ago,” he said. “But we are not sure of the details. I think Ms. Pointer is very sensitive to the house, very sensitive indeed. Perhaps she can sense the spirits that still linger.”
Father Abbott frowned.
“I must see evidence of a haunting before I will consider a blessing,” he said. “Millie, will you allow me to pray with you?”
“Will it help the house?” Millie asked softly. “Please, Father, I just need relief. I just need one night of good sleep – even a doctor wouldn’t help me!”
“Aye,” Father Abbott said. “No doubt you went looking for pills and prescriptions to solve your problem? You Americans,” he said, shaking his head. “Never want to bear your pain, or anything unpleasant.”
Millie frowned. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, thinking desperately of a way to convince Father Abbott that she was telling the truth. As crazy as she knew it sounded, she almost hoped the spirit would make a presence – wailing or crying or even hiding another book!
“Millie?” Father Abbot asked gently. “Shall we pray?”
Millie nodded. Father Abbott gestured for her to kneel on the floor. The cold stone was hard and rough against Millie’s knees and she gritted her teeth in pain as Father Abbott gently touched her head. His skin was dry and papery – strangely unpleasant in a way that made her shiver.
“Lord Father in Heaven,” Father Abbott began. “Please guide this young woman, Millie Pointer. She is lost and friendless in the world, and she could very much use your spiritual guidance.”
Millie frowned, but she didn’t say anything. Shifting on the floor, she stifled a groan as pain shot up her thighs.
“Please, Lord, show Millie the way of the light and the righteous,” Father Abbott continued. “Show her that the path to salvation is not in self-pity or depression, but light and joy and trust in your Lordly ways.”
“Father,” Millie interrupted. “I don’t need any help,” she added unsteadily, gently pushing the priest’s hand to the side and getting to her feet. “It’s my house that needs you!”
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