“Let’s rest here awhile,” Mr. Dixon suggested.
Claire nodded and arranged herself untidily on a crag.
“I do feel we have started off on a bad note,” he said, flashing her a smile. “May we start again?”
Claire laughed, her apprehension diminishing. “I love my sister very much, but we don’t always agree. I am sorry you have been caught up in one of our…moments.”
“I can assure you your sister had nothing but your interests at heart. She merely sought my opinion, and I gave it, as best I could.”
“And what opinion would that be, Mr. Dixon?”
“Oh, please, call me Matthew, Claire. I do want us to be friends. I told her I believed there were unearthly manifestations, whatever you choose to call them. The cottages have their share of ghost stories, true or imaginary.”
“I know what I saw, Matthew. And what I saw couldn’t have been of this earth. My room had been upturned. A picture smashed, the bed raised, sheets thrown on the floor, books torn from their bookcase and flung across from one side to the other.”
“It must have been terrifying.”
“At least you don’t disbelieve me.”
“How could I? You witnessed it. Your sister witnessed the aftermath. From what she described, I cannot see how you could have been responsible. If you will forgive me for saying this, I doubt you would have had the strength to raise a heavy brass bed in the manner she described. You told her it had been upended as if someone had lifted it at one end?”
“Yes. It would take a person of great strength to do that.”
“Truly shocking.”
“If I could understand why it happened, I might find it easier to understand. Is it a demon? An angry spirit? A ghost?”
“I wish I could give you an answer, Claire. I truly do. I know such manifestations are not rare. And they occur all over the world. Most often they start and then continue for a little while before stopping, never to be heard from again. All I can advise is to try to put it out of your mind as much as possible. If you dwell on it, you could find it takes over your life and robs you of your sleep.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night. Every little creak brought me awake.”
“But every house creaks. Especially old ones such as those we are living in.”
“Yes, you are right. But…”
“I’m sure it will get easier as the days go by and nothing else untoward happens.”
“I hope so, Matthew.”
* * *
“What were your impressions of Matthew, Claire?”
“A charming gentleman. At least on the surface. But I do wonder if his motives are entirely…honorable.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I am imagining it, but there is a look in his eyes sometimes, and I can’t read it. His mouth says one thing, and his eyes… They seem to search. As if he has a question he can’t bring himself to ask.” Ev’s look of bewilderment, mixed with skepticism, unsettled Claire. “I’m probably reading too much into it.”
Evelyn paused in the act of placing a bag of flour and some eggs into the pantry. “Yes, I rather think you are. He is an easy person to be with, and I find his company congenial and entertaining. He is also a great help in this strange situation in which we find ourselves. Maybe the discomfort you feel is simply because he, like us, is trying to fathom out why these unnerving things are happening.” Ev sighed. “Anyway, I’m glad you went out today. I know it’s difficult for you to meet strangers.”
“Oh, Ev, I’m not nearly as helpless as you think I am.”
“Nevertheless—”
Claire stood up, knocking her chair off-balance. “I’m going to my room.”
Ev’s look of horror made her want to smack her. “Are you sure you’ll be—”
“I shall do precisely as Matthew advised. I shall not think about it. I will go to my room, pick up my book, sit in my chair by the window and read.” Ev didn’t need to know what else she would be doing.
She heard her sister come out into the hall as she flounced up the stairs, conscious of Ev’s eyes burning into her back.
With her door closed and a pleasant smell of lavender coming from the bowl on her dressing table, Claire inhaled deeply and picked up her worn copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. She sat down with the book in her lap and closed her eyes.
Branwell. Are you there?
Behind closed lids, she sensed the room grow darker. A momentary panic set in. What if the…she didn’t even have a name for it…was back? Then came the reassuring aroma of leather and cigars.
Branwell.
Unseen lips caressed hers with the lightest of touches. A featherlight stroke of her hand. She opened her eyes, praying she would see him. A glimpse, a shadow. Anything to let her know he was truly there.
But it did not come. She remained alone. And then something caught her eye. Something on the floor in front of the wardrobe.
Something that didn’t belong there.
She set her book down, stood and made her way across the room. A box. Quite a sizeable and colorful one too. Bending down, she picked it up and examined it. Where had it come from? They didn’t possess such a thing.
“How extraordinary.”
She sat on the edge of her bed and prized off the cardboard lid.
The board looked brand new. She unfolded it and laid it on the bed. She stared at the contents of the box that had been hidden underneath it. There lay all manner of miniature garden trees, plants, a splendid manor house, crystal pool. So lifelike. Even birds and butterflies to adorn the scenery.
Claire picked up a tree. It felt like no other toy she had ever handled. The branches, twigs and leaves seemed almost alive in her hand. They sprang back and emitted a heady smell like a perfect May day.
“Ev?” she called, and then remembered. Ev had planned to go straight out again as soon as she had put the provisions away. Maybe she had been cleaning in Claire’s room earlier…or she had put something away in the wardrobe. Perhaps this game, or whatever it was, had fallen out. It wasn’t theirs, so it must have been there since the previous owners had lived here.
Claire picked up the box lid. The illustration showed an exquisite landscape. Apart from that and the title of the toy, nothing else. Her creative gene sparked. She cleared a couple of ornaments off the top of her small chest of drawers and set the board down. It covered every inch of its new home. Using the box illustration as a guide, Claire picked up the house, ready to place it in the center, when the windows caught her eye. She peered closely through one on the ground floor and marveled at the detail. The image was three-dimensional. The figure of a woman sat at a piano, in full evening dress, flanked by two men equally well attired. A small group of adults sat in Regency-style chairs, clearly listening intently to the performance. The whole scene struck her as so realistic Claire could almost hear the tinkling of the piano keys. She peered into an upstairs room where an elderly lady lay in bed, her white hair mostly covered by a nightcap and her wrinkled face peaceful in slumber.
In the next room, a man stood in front of a mirror, adjusting his bow tie. Another man, presumably his valet, stood observing him. Claire was just about to leave the scene when she stopped and peered in again. Unable to believe what she saw, she blinked rapidly and looked closer. No, she wasn’t seeing things. There stood the mirror. And the valet, just as before.
But the man had been frozen in the act of smoothing his hair.
Claire tossed the house onto the bed. A cry emanated from it. No, cries.
She raced out of her room and down the stairs, meeting Ev returning from her walk.
“Whatever’s happened, Claire? You’re as pale as death.”
“Nothing, Ev. It’s all right. I… Oh, you may as well see it. I’ll show you.”
Claire led the way bac
k to her room. “I found this toy. A garden you build yourself. It looked lovely, so I thought I would make it. Then—” She stopped and stared. Her bedroom was tidy, as she had left it.
But the toy garden had vanished.
“I don’t understand. I left it here.” She touched the top of the chest of drawers, its ornaments replaced as before.
“Claire. You said it was a toy garden. Did it have a name?”
“Yes. The Garden of Bewitchment.”
“Oh no.” Evelyn sank down on Claire’s bed.
“What do you mean? Have you heard of it? I wondered where it had come from.”
“I couldn’t tell you. I have no idea, but Matthew played with a Garden of Bewitchment. It turned out to be dangerous. Very dangerous. It might have even killed him if he hadn’t left it alone. Even then…” Evelyn shuddered.
“So, you didn’t put it in my room?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Matthew said he had tried to find another one like it, and no toy shop owner had ever heard of it.”
“So what is it doing here, then?”
“I should very much like to know.”
“It has to be Matthew, doesn’t it? He’s the only one who knows of this toy’s existence.”
“Oh come on, Claire. Why on earth would Matthew sneak into your room and deposit a toy there, only to snatch it back again? How would he have gained access to your room in the first place?”
Claire opened her window and peered out. “You suggested it once yourself. Maybe Matthew could have shinned up the drainpipe, or even up the Russian vine.”
Evelyn joined her. “I wasn’t being serious about the drainpipe then as you well know. The fastenings are far too rusted to hold any adult’s weight. As for the Russian vine…a squirrel would have problems clinging on to it.”
Claire withdrew back into the room. “You explain it then because I’m sure I can’t. Maybe he hid in the attic and came down to put the toy there. He might still be in the cottage.”
“Firstly, we don’t have an attic, and secondly, the whole idea is preposterous. I am going to tell him about it, though. It’s such a strange coincidence. He only told me about it a day or two ago, and then it turns up here.”
“You’re not suggesting it’s the same one as his? Well, that settles it then. It must be his doing.”
“I shall ask him about it, and we shall see his reaction. I will be accompanying him on his walk tomorrow afternoon. You can come too if you like.”
“No thanks, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to your own devices if you don’t mind. But please be careful, Ev. He’s charming, and I like him, but I still don’t fully trust him. Especially after this.”
“I promise, I’ll take care, but you must promise not to jump to conclusions simply because they provide an apparently quick and easy answer.”
Claire nodded, but her doubts remained.
“I’m going to get changed, and, as it’s my turn to prepare dinner for us, I thought a nice piece of poached salmon might be in order.”
“Sounds perfect,” Claire said, and watched as her sister left the room, her skirt swishing.
After she had gone, Claire looked around the room. She opened her wardrobe, half expecting the toy to be there, but only her clothes greeted her.
She turned back to the bed, and something on the floor caught her eye. She bent to pick it up, turning it over in her hand.
A piece of greenery, soft and realistic.
A piece of The Garden of Bewitchment lay in the palm of her hand.
Chapter Five
Matthew shielded his eyes from the sun that showed increased strength today. “I always find coincidences difficult to believe.”
“Claire wondered if it could be the same toy you spoke to me about. That somehow it had manifested itself here.”
“Not guilty. Oh, it sounds like the same model, but certainly not mine.”
“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Of course not, but you are bound to wonder. I tell you about a macabre experience, and then the self-same Garden of Bewitchment appears mysteriously in your sister’s bedroom, after I had told you no toy maker I have spoken to has ever heard of it. I would feel the same way. Too much of a coincidence.”
“But that is what it has to be, doesn’t it?”
Matthew didn’t answer, and Evelyn felt increasingly anxious. What if Claire had been right and he couldn’t altogether be trusted? What if he did know all about them and was simply after their money? He didn’t fit the image of a typical gold digger. But what is a typical gold digger? She shook her head, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“Evelyn, I want you to promise me something.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to promise me if that toy turns up again you will burn it until not one trace of it remains. Do you understand? It’s terribly important. Not one leaf, butterfly…nothing must remain.”
“Is there something you know about it that you’re not telling me?”
“No, just a hunch, I suppose. I have always felt something evil about that thing, and now I’m convinced there is more to it than even I imagined. None of it will come to any good, and you would be putting your lives in danger if you went anywhere near it. So, promise me you’ll tell Claire, and if either of you stumble over it again, throw it into the nearest fireplace and set a match to it. A whole box of matches if necessary.”
“I promise, and I’ll tell Claire the moment I return home.”
“Then I will rest much easier knowing that.”
“Thank you, Matthew.”
“You’re thanking me? I can’t help feeling responsible for that dreadful monstrosity entering your life. I don’t know how, but there has to be a link.”
“You haven’t seen it in years. You left it at your aunt’s house. In the attic. Shut away where no one would have any cause to find it.”
“Evidently someone did, and don’t forget, the evil mess was growing, maybe… Oh, I don’t know. All we can do is speculate. But I can’t believe there is more than one of those things in this world.”
“I have never seen it, but my sister described the box to me, and it sounded as you had described yours. Surely toys are produced to be sold in their hundreds, if not thousands.”
“Not this one. I am convinced this was either unique or there were very few made. This is no ordinary toy, as you now know for yourself. Toys don’t appear and disappear, and they certainly don’t behave as this one did for me. Thank goodness your sister never built the garden.”
“Maybe that’s why it disappeared.”
Matthew looked at her questioningly.
“Perhaps it had been found by the wrong person. It wasn’t meant for her at all. A mistake of some kind.”
“Possibly. You told me it scared her. Something about the house.”
“She swore she saw a figure had changed position the second time she looked at it. It scared her, and she threw the house down onto the bed and ran out of her room. When she returned, with me in tow, the whole thing had vanished.”
“Let’s hope you’re right. Maybe, like us, the Devil isn’t infallible. He makes mistakes too.”
“The Devil? You really believe this toy is the work of the Devil?”
“Ask your sister what she thinks. I wouldn’t be surprised if she agreed with me.”
* * *
“I have looked for it, Ev. I searched my wardrobe, yours, all the cupboards upstairs and down. It’s gone.”
Evelyn sighed. “What a relief. Matthew is most concerned about it. I’m certain he hasn’t had anything to do with its appearance, but he was adamant. Should it show up again, it must be destroyed.”
“I won’t argue with that. You really like him, don’t you, Ev?”
Evelyn felt her cheeks burn. “I find him a most amiable compa
nion.”
“Oh, Ev, now you sound like Aunt Susan. ‘Amiable companion’ indeed. I think you’re sweet on him.”
“Oh, stop it, Claire.”
“I think he looks a little like Branwell, don’t you?”
“Branwell? Not a bit of it. Branwell was shorter, and he had a longer nose and… He doesn’t look a bit like Branwell.”
“In my mind, he does.”
Evelyn didn’t appreciate her tone. When she became petulant, Claire’s lip would curl ever so slightly. Like now. Any second and she would be arguing for the sake of it. Evelyn felt in no mood for one of Claire’s tantrums. She changed the subject.
“I think a day out in Leeds would do us both good. We haven’t been for so long.”
“I knew you would miss the bookshops and the hat shops. Oh, and let’s not forget, the gown shops.”
“Living in the country, I have no need of fancy gowns or hats and, as for books… Well, all right then, I will admit I have grown tired of the ones we have. I’ve read them all at least five times. Oh, I could read Jane Eyre a hundred times and not grow bored of it. In fact, I probably have. But a few new titles would be stimulating.”
“Yes, I agree. And we need some new stories for our Chronicles of Calladocia.”
“Tomorrow, then. If we catch the eight o’clock train, we can be in Leeds nice and early.”
“It will make a change to do something together,” Claire said.
“It will indeed.” A momentary fear clutched her. What if it happens again? She reminded herself that there was no reason it should. Not really. Not if they kept to the plan.
Chapter Six
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ev. I’m not a child, you know. You’re not my mother. I hate clothes shopping. It’s of no interest to me whatsoever. If I want to go off on my own for half an hour, then so be it.” Claire spun on her heel and raced out of the store. Evelyn watched her, dismayed, dangling a smart fashionable hat from her fingers.
“Are you quite well, madam?”
The Garden of Bewitchment Page 6