I felt like an automaton being manipulated by the craftsman’s hand. I had neither the spirit nor wits to resist. “You must take a moment. I understand this is a difficult thing to accept but the spirits of our loved ones are amongst us and they yearn to be heard. There are those like Miss Lightfoot who can hear souls as if they were standing beside them. There are those like me who can only sense them and there are others like you who resist the very thought of it. Open your eyes, Mr Napier and you will see them.” Miss Collins walked away leaving me alone on the chaise.
A copper haired spectre from the past had materialised and was standing in this very room. I could not recall her face in very much detail but I was sure it was the same woman. I kept my eyes fixed on her, trying to regain a memory which had been interred for so long.
I was not permitted sufficiently long to complete my recall, as one by one the candles were snuffed. It left a solitary flame to light the space. In silence, the guests took their seats around a table in the centre of the room. A loaf of bread lay between them.
“We must hold hands now.” The group followed Susanna’s direction.
The entire group spoke as one. “Beloved Robert, we bring you gifts from life into death.” The chant was repeated and then there was silence.
I had not come to be part of this but I could not leave, for the mounting horror I felt, conspired with curiosity and left me utterly enthralled.
The silence was broken by a number of sharp raps on the table.
“Is this Robert? One rap for yes, two for no.” A rap sounded again followed by a loud, feminine gasp.
“Thank you Robert. Your darling, Rose is here. You may speak directly to him now, Rose.”
“Robert? It is me Rose,” a thin voice called out in the darkness. “Are you happy on the other side?”
Two knocks were accompanied by a sharp intake of breath.
“Has the pain diminished?”
There followed two knocks and a piercing shriek from Rose.
“I must help him! Poor Robert died in agony and now his spirit is trapped in eternal pain. What must I do?”
The knocking became louder, and under the weight of those present, the table rocked, sending the guests crashing against one another. The room was a cacophony of tormented wails and cries, but in the midst of the furore, I caught the sound of a low cackle. It was a base sound and if I were inclined in such a way I might have thought a witch was present.
As abruptly as the tumult commenced, it abated and all was still again. Save for the occasional sepulchral moan, the room dropped once more into silence.
I shuffled uneasily on the chaise. In my mind this was nothing more than a simple trick played on a poor woman who needed reassurance and comfort. Instead she had been cast deeper into her own torment at the whim of a cackling witch. It was utterly deplorable and I felt contempt for this charade which had been carried out in the name of some twisted religion. I could watch it no longer.
As I stood, a terrible roar came from Miss Lightfoot. It did not seem possible that such a guttural sound could come from her, yet it did. In the inadequate light, I saw the silhouette of her figure arch backward and brace itself rigidly in the chair.
“Matthew!” she screamed.
I remained where I stood, unable to move.
“Matthew! My brother, where is my hair? What have they done with it?” Miss Lightfoot stood and walked toward me. Her face was a twisted, snarling abortion.
“Stop this! Stop this now you witch!” My voice betrayed the dread I felt and carried none of the resolve I desired.
“Matthew, it is I, your sister.” She came ever closer, twirling the amber curls of her hair carelessly between her fingers.
“You are not Lily. This is an evil trick. I demand you stop.” But I could not turn away and I could not move.
She screamed and in a gasping whisper continued. “There were two of them, Matthew. They took my hair.” Something fluttered before my eyes and instinctively I reached out and took it. Before I opened my fist, I knew what it was. In the gloom I could see clipped strands of dark hair. I lifted them to my nose and smelled the sweet scent of Lily’s perfume.
“It cannot be,” I whispered.
I felt the soft touch of hand on my cheek. “My face, Matthew. What have they done to my face?”
I looked up, and in the dismal light, saw my sister’s face; bloody and wrecked, staring back at me.
“It is I, Matthew. Your darling sister.” A sneer appeared upon her deformed and bloody lips.
The strength in my legs deserted me and as I collapsed, a faint whisper fell upon my ears. “I am with you, Matthew.”
*
“Wake up, Mr Napier.” A gentle voice raised me from the dark abyss of my unconscious mind.
The last sight I had seen was that of poor deformed Lily and I feared seeing her face again.
“Come back to us now.” The voice softly urged again.
I opened my eyes slowly, knowing what horror awaited me. Instead I looked upon the soft features of Miss Collins smiling down at me. Behind her, the room was once again awash in candlelight.
“Bring him sweet coffee, John. Steady there, Mr Napier, you had a nasty fall.”
“Where is the witch?” I spoke with more reassurance than I felt.
“Oh, Mr Napier. Miss Lightfoot is no witch; she is a medium. She left with her brother a few moments ago. She was most concerned about you and fretted that if she remained it may cause you more distress.”
“My sister, she looked…” I could not form my thoughts coherently.
“We shall talk about it later, if you wish. For the moment we must bring you to the chaise and allow you to gather your wits. Here.” She slipped her arm under my shoulder and helped me to sit.
“She is a deceiver.” I became aware that the entire room was empty save for Miss Collins and myself.
“She has been called that before, but it is simply not true. There are those who seek only to console when it is not the truth. Miss Lightfoot tells the truth and it is often unpalatable.”
“I asked for nothing. I did not come seeking consolation or anything else.”
“I believe you did, Mr Napier. You came here tonight to find something you have lost. Hope.”
“But I did not come to see such horror or pain. Did you see her face? It was the twisted face of agony. This has left me in despair for poor Lily.”
She placed her hand on my shoulder and looked on me with kindness. “I do not claim to have the skills of Miss Lightfoot and do not see what she sees. But, I feel something different. I feel warmth and happiness and love.”
“Her face though, did you not see her face?”
“I only saw Miss Lightfoot and nothing more.”
My mind was a vicious tumult of chaos. Was this where madness began? When a man has lost everything he loves, is this when the hellish creatures of his nightmares take hold of his mind and drag him screaming down to their lair?
“Take this for your nerves,” Collins pressed a glass into my hands. “It will be of more benefit than coffee.”
I took a sip. The warming liquor flowed through my system, spreading calm as it went.
“People often feel this way on the first occasion. It will pass.” He smiled down at me.
What had gone before was truly abhorrent, yet as the brandy slipped easily through my body, something else was starting to take hold. In addition to my revulsion, I started to feel a grotesque fascination for Miss Lightfoot. She was a witch and a deceiver but how had she managed to conjure up such a startling display? How had she known about poor Lily’s locket? How had she…
“What is it, Mr Napier?” Miss Collins asked.
Was it possible that I had stared into the face of my sister’s murderer? Surely this could not be the case. “Nothing. I am still quite shaken by the events of this evening. Would it be possible for me to come again? To see Miss Lightfoot, personally?”
They both looked pleased with my reque
st, yet they did not know the dark questions which lurked in my mind.
“Of course. You may prefer a private consultation? I would be quite happy to bring them to your address.”
“Them?” I asked.
“Yes,” replied Miss Collins, “they seldom travel alone.”
I handed her my card. “I shall await their response.” I felt my composure returning as my mind focused on the grisly possibilities.
“I feel much better now, although I am quite exhausted. I have solicited too much of your kindness already and so I must return home.”
I heard their voiced entreaties for me to stay a while longer but my mind was already somewhere else. It was a place where justice was done on my sister’s murderers, justice by my own hands.
34 Bedford Place
In spite of the comforting warmth of a further brandy taken at home, I found sleep once again difficult to come by. My head swam with question after question regarding Miss Lightfoot and her brother. They had been called something else, I was sure, when they visited my uncle those years ago. What was their surname back then?
Her knowledge of my sister and her demise was startling but it was no magic trick. It was the deceit of a murderer or someone close to the murderer and I would have my answers. Was Miss Collins too involved in this appalling scheme? It seemed inconceivable that she would be. Both she and her brother appeared to be kind and genuine, without the need for deception. Yet their very presence was disconcerting, especially since Miss Collins insisted she was gifted with the power, albeit of a gentler and subtler guise. In that respect, her claims were less absurd.
The police would hear nothing of this. They had already got their killer, Jonathan Lovett, and were convinced of his guilt. Besides, apart from her knowledge, which she could easily claim came from beyond the grave, what evidence was there? No, it was simple enough, I would have to discover the truth for myself.
Fettiplace! That was the name he used to introduce his sister on that terrible night.
When, finally I fell asleep, my dreams were vivid and base; I dreamed of Anna Collins. She played Dance of the Blessed Spirits on the flute and danced naked above the rotting corpses of my family. The music washed over their bodies and re-animated them. My mother and father clung to each other and danced a staccato waltz in their ragged clothes, whilst my sister and uncle laughed and cheered. When the dismal melody finally ended, they collapsed in a jumble of ruined bones and melted back in to the earth. ‘Come to me,’ Anna urged, ‘come and be my lover.’ She lay on the earth above their heads and waited for me to lie with her.
*
The morning passed in solitude until a ringing of the doorbell disturbed me. A young boy who appeared to be recently escaped from the workhouse greeted me.
“Well?” I asked, for he stood in silence.
He said nothing and handed me an envelope, which had it not been for the dirty finger marks, was of remarkable quality.
I started to close the door.
“I was told to wait for your reply, sir.”
I closed the door and opened the envelope.
Dear Mr Napier,
My sister and I apologise most vehemently for causing you distress last night. We would be delighted to attend you this evening, at your home, and will happily forgo the usual fee in recompense for your distress. Miss Collins will accompany us.
The messenger will bring your reply.
Yours faithfully
Louis Lightfoot.
The handwriting was impeccable and the notepaper of the highest quality, yet there was no return address. I quickly wrote my reply and took it to the boy outside.
“From where did you bring this message, boy?”
“I’m not to say, sir.”
I took a penny from my pocket and gave it to him. “You may speak to me. I will not say a word.”
“Thirty-Four Bedford Place in Bloomsbury” He took the penny and ran off before I could ask him anything further.
I was unfamiliar with the address but Bloomsbury was a respectable district filled with the satisfied bellies of clerks and their burgeoning families. In knowing their address, I felt content that should I require the services of the police, I would know where to send them. In my response I had asked for the party to arrive no later than eight o’clock. I would hear her séance and make a decision on my next step after that. It would not do to underestimate them or their intentions.
*
In perfect harmony, as the mantel clock struck the hour and conducted its perfunctory chime, the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of my guests. I had decided my manner would be warm and welcoming. I did not want to arouse their suspicions, although if my conjectures were correct, they had been inside my home before, on two occasions.
Miss Collins stood at the front. “Miss Collins, thank you for making the arrangements in preparation for this evening.” I smiled and bowed my head.
“My pleasure, Mr Napier. Would you do me the honour of calling me, Anna? I would be much happier to be addressed like that.”
“And we should very much like to be addressed as Louis and Susanna!”
Fettiplace called from outside where he stood with his sister.
“Come in, come in. It is a cold night and we should gather on the step no longer than is necessary. If we are all in agreement then, I am Matthew.” It was not in my nature to be on Christian name terms with those of a lower class, yet tonight was an exception and suited my purpose.
“Allow me to take your coats and please go through into the parlour. I have made a fire and the room is warm.”
Anna handed me her coat and smiled. Immediately I recalled the dream of her naked body. She held a long case in the other hand.
“You have a wonderful home, Matthew.”
“I’m afraid it is too large for me now and much too cold!” I followed them into the parlour. Louis and Susanna looked about the room as if studying the design. I had lit only one candle but it sat beneath a great mirror on the mantel and the reflection exaggerated its size.
“Louis? I believe we have been here on a previous occasion.”
“Yes, there is something familiar about it.” Louis turned to me, “Have you lived here very long?”
“All of my life.” I replied, a little curtly. I was unprepared for their admission.
“Well, we have visited a great many houses in your career. Have we not Susanna?”
Susanna nodded but said nothing more on the subject.
“Would anyone care for a drink before we begin?” I asked with as much courtesy as I could muster.
“I should prefer to begin, if that is agreeable Matthew? Do you have a suitable table?” She cast her eyes about the room, “Ah yes, that will be perfect.”
Anna put the flute to her mouth and played the same lingering melody I had heard the evening before. I was again reminded of my lurid dream and turned away from her in shame. After she finished playing we sat around the occasional table Lily and I used to play whist on.
“Can you feel it, Susanna?” Anna asked.
“Feel what?” she replied dismissively.
“There are a number of spirits here, with us. I cannot explain it but it is how I feel.”
“Please allow my sister to begin. She needs peace to commune with the spirits.”
There was something in the manner of their response to Anna which was cold and irritable, as if she were a hindrance.
“Do you have anything of your sister’s with you?”
“I have only this.” I placed the damaged locket containing her hair onto the table, “The hair inside belongs to her.” I tried to examine her countenance in the dark but she remained impassive. She turned it in her hand before placing it on the table.
“We must all join hands.” Susanna closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Above her head, her deformed, flaming shadow flickered in the draft.
“Who is it you wish to commune with, Matthew?” she asked.
“My sister, Lily.” I f
elt pressure from Anna’s grip on my hand.
“We are seeking, Lily. Come Lily and communicate with us.” There was silence for a few moments.
“Will you all join me in repeating those words.” Susanna spoke quietly.
We all spoke as one. “We are seeking Lily. Come Lily and communicate with us.” Silence followed but as I started to relax, the calm was shattered.
“I am in purgatory.” Susanna screamed.
“Lily?” Despite my intentions, I felt compelled to ask.
“Yes, Matthew it is I.” Susanna smiled at me with her eyes still closed and in the half-light her face was monstrous.
I had planned my first question to bring about a reaction from the siblings. “Who murdered you, Lily? The police say it was a man called Lovett but I do not believe them.”
Susanna’s eyes flicked open. “It was the couple Matthew. I allowed them entry to view the locket. They forced me upstairs and, and…” A terrible howl arose from her, “Such pain, such terrible agonising pain. I screamed for you brother. I screamed for you until the blood ran down my throat and coated my teeth. Why did they do this? Why did you let them do this to me?”
I had vowed to myself that I would retain control of this situation but now the moment was upon me I was powerless. This woman was too skilled in the corrupt act of emotional deception for my naïve resolution. She had found the exposed flesh of my weakness and was taking nibbles with her razor edged teeth.
“I am sorry, my poor sweet sister. I have let you down; I deserted you in the time of your greatest need. Can you tell me the names of those that did this to you?”
Susanna brought her fist down onto the table with a violent crash sending the locket somersaulting into the fire. “Take that locket away from me! It has my hair inside. You must burn it!” I watched in tortured anguish as the locket slipped beneath the savage amber ripple of flame and vanished.
The Macabre Collection (Box set) Page 12