Carlton House

by B. Groves

  Lily’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten breakfast before she left the cottage.

  Lily wanted to start a fire to take out the chill in the air. She didn’t think Mr. Carlton would get upset if she lit a fire. She looked around for any kind of electric heater, but all the switches only turned on lights.

  Lily kept the lights on and walked over to the fireplace realizing that she hadn’t explored this area of the dining since Mr. Carlton had always occupied the chairs. She inspected the chairs and found the fabric decaying and worn. She made a face wondering how Mr. Carlton could stand to sit in those chairs when he met with her and wondered if he planned on replacing them soon.

  She found three buckets, one with kindling, one with wadded up newspaper and one for soot.

  A tool set sat next to them and Lily swept out the fireplace with the broom.

  Lily dumped the soot and ashes into the bucket, feeling satisfied it was clean enough to light a new fire. She stood up and realized there were no logs next to the buckets. She turned to her right and found them stacked in a log holder.

  Lily walked over to the logs and noticed something she hadn’t seen before.

  A small cabinet sat next to the logs. Lily scratched her head. She didn’t remember seeing that cabinet inside the room yesterday or the day before, but she’d been so caught up with Mr. Carlton’s weird behavior, it was easy to miss when she entered the room before. Besides, it was tiny, and the chairs around the dining table were huge.

  Lily shrugged, lifted a log and placed it in the fireplace. She remembered those rare times when her father lit a fire inside their small house when her parents couldn’t afford the electric bill. It wasn’t a good memory but one where she learned how to light a fire in a fireplace safely when her parents left her alone and she had heat for the night.

  Once the fireplace was ready, Lily found a pack of matches on the mantle.

  She had the fire going within several minutes and basked in the warmth of the flames.

  She eyed the cabinet while she poked at the fire one more time, curious about what Mr. Carlton kept in the cabinet… if anything.

  It might be an old wine cabinet, she thought.

  Lily fetched the rest of her cleaning supplies, still wondering about the cabinet. She didn’t know why she needed to look inside, but she tried to ignore it, as she set up for her first day working in Carlton House.

  She unwrapped the sandwich and found the coffee had cooled, but still drinkable.

  Lily finished her sandwich and returned to work.

  For the next three hours, Lily wiped, mopped, washed, and dusted. She was in and out of the kitchen several times, dumping dirty water down the sink. She found a working bathroom inside one of the closed doors in the foyer when she took a break. She stayed and admired the bathroom for a few minutes. It needed cleaning, but the toilet and sink were installed recently.

  This house made no sense, but Lily didn’t think too much of it right then.

  Around 11 AM, she was on the ladder trying to figure out how to reach the chandeliers. She tried to dust them with her duster, and with the broom. She went searching for a vacuum, found one, and tried the extension hose. That didn’t work and moving the heavy dining table was nearly impossible. Maybe she could ask Mr. Carlton to help her move it when she returned and she would stay late and finish the room.

  The layers of dust made Lily have to go outside for clean air several times. She kept looking for the Porsche or waited for the gate to open, but no sign of the owner.

  One time, she stepped away from the house and glanced at the second-floor window. No signs of life up there.

  Around 11:30 AM Lily stepped back to inspect the room, grinning at her work. The dining room almost looked brand new and ready to host guests.

  She’d been ignoring that cabinet ever since she started cleaning the room.

  Lily checked the time and decided she had time to open the cabinet and see if anything interesting was inside. Lily took a rag and wiped off the top, the sides, and the little corners.

  She sat down on the floor and crossed her legs.

  Lily questioned her own stability when she realized her palms were sweating. She wiped her hand on her jeans and held her breath.

  She inched the door open and winced when the hinges creaked.

  Nothing jumped at her.

  Lily scooted over again and kneeled in front of the cabinet.

  The cabinet didn’t contain shelves but had a cardboard box inside.

  She turned her head to the door expecting Mr. Carlton to be standing there scowling at her. He wasn’t anywhere around, and the house stayed silent except for the crackling of the fire that Lily refreshed earlier.

  Lily knew she should leave the box alone and mind her own business but her inquiring mind wanted to find out what was in the box.

  She pulled it out and sniffled from the dust and the cobwebs covering it.

  She shook it and frowned. It sounded like paper rustling around.

  With itchy fingers, Lily lifted the lid and peered inside.

  Waves of nausea made Lily’s stomach turn and dizziness clouded her mind. Sweat burst out on her brow, and her breathing became shallow.

  She’d seen these kinds of pictures on the internet hundreds of times. Hell, she read articles about them on various news sites, but she never thought in a million years she’d be staring at a Victorian post-mortem photograph.

  Lily’s mind screamed at her to put the box back inside the cabinet and forget about the picture she was staring at.

  Lily’s hand shook as she gently lifted the picture of young Harry out of the box. The picture was old and brittle. She didn’t want it falling apart in her hand, so she cradled it as gently in her palm.

  Harry was laid out on a bed with flowers surrounding him and candles lit on either side. He looked like he was taking a nap, but Lily knew he was dead in that picture from his slack features. A blanket covered most of his body in the picture.

  Lily dropped the picture back into the box, not able to look at the dead child anymore.

  She shook her head trying to get the morbid picture out of her mind. She glanced down at the rest of the pictures. Another photograph caught her interest.

  A woman stood by a fireplace.

  Lily couldn’t make out the color of her dress, but it looked expensive for the time with lace covering her neckline and sleeves.

  Her dark hair had been pulled back into a tight bun, and she had sharp light eyes.

  This had to be Hannah Carlton.

  The woman was stunningly beautiful. Her skin perfectly smooth like porcelain.

  Lily lifted that picture out of the box and turned it over. No name or date, but Lily was convinced it was her.

  Beneath Hannah’s picture lay another photograph.

  Lily placed Hannah’s picture back inside the box and lifted the last one that caught her eye.

  A man was sitting up in a chair, but Lily could tell by his half-closed eyes and the slack from the muscles in his face told Lily this man was dead.

  She set her hand over her mouth as the shock settled in.

  Phillip Carlton.

  It had to be. The person looked just like him.

  Lily swallowed several times struggling to keep the bile down in her stomach.

  Lily studied the picture closer. Her eyes narrowed as she focused in on the features of Phillip Carlton.

  She’d only seen Mr. Carlton covered by shadows and darkness, but she’d seen enough of his features to say it again—the resemblance to Phillip Carlton was uncanny. Twins, even.

  Lily stood up from the floor with the picture in her hand. Without paying attention to her surroundings she held the picture in one hand and made her way to the dining room with so many questions running through her head.

  No way. Families change. New generations, new genetics enter the picture. There may be the same structure in the face or build but looks of different generations change with time.

  Li
ly entered the dining room and stood in front of Phillip’s portrait because she wanted to make comparisons. One was a painting and the other a photograph. She glanced down at the photograph again and shook her head.

  Something was not right in this house. It wasn’t the tragic history that lingered long after Harry’s death, it was an oppressive feeling that Lily couldn’t shake. The silhouette in the window, Mr. Carlton’s elusiveness, his late-night jaunts. The locked doors upstairs and the resemblance between Michael and Phillip although many generations had passed.

  She walked out of the dining room and back into the foyer standing at the foot of the main staircase.

  Lily then sprinted up the staircase made a left and walked right past Harry’s portrait. She stopped in front of the locked doors trying to hear any sound coming from the room.

  Lily kneeled all the way down and placed the picture beside her.

  Lily placed her head all the to the floor while she tried to look under the crack at the bottom of the door.

  She watched and waited for any movement inside the room.

  Finally, Lily found her voice and asked, “Hello? Is anyone living in this room?”

  Lily stilled when she heard shuffling. She tried to scoot closer to the opening. Her cheek lay flat against the cool wooden floor. She peered through the bottom of the door with only one eye.

  Sunlight shined down on the wooden floor inside the room. Something occurred to her. There was a layer of dust outside of the room, but the floor inside… was clean and shiny. No dust swirled through the air.

  That’s impossible. If Mr. Carlton had kept the room locked, and no one was there, the floor would be covered with layers of dust.

  Lily edged closer practically pressing her face against the door.

  Lily’s eyes widened when a shadow moved in front of the sunlight and a figure limped past the door.

  Lily wanted to back away. She wanted to run, but the figure limped by the door again. This time Lily spotted a barefoot.

  “Hello?” Lily’s voice shook as she called out to the person. “Is there someone in there?”

  The shadow stopped and turned around. Their shadow moving against the angle of the sunlight.

  “Hello, I can help you. Please tell me where the keys are to this room. I can let you out,” she said. “I can call the police. Who are you?”

  Lily watched in awe as the dress appeared again in front of the door. A scraping noise coming from the other side of the door made Lily pull away.

  Why couldn’t this person talk? Were they injured? She heard little snarls and gasps as they continued to claw at the wood.

  “Listen, I will go get my phone and call the police,” Lily said. “Are you hurt?”

  Lily frowned when she thought she heard laughing. It wasn’t a normal person’s laugh. It was as if that person had smoked two packs a day for over a hundred years.

  “Okay, I’m calling the police,” Lily said.

  She scooted farther away from the door when more movement caught her eye. The person kneeled down and what Lily saw next would haunt her nightmares the rest of her life.

  Long, silky black hair met the wooden floor first. A hand steadied the body as it kneeled down.

  Lily almost jerked back when she saw the hand. She could only describe it as milky white with some grayish points on the fingertips with long, sharp black nails.

  Lily froze in fear as the hair met with a pales face, diseased bloodshot eyes, and cracked blue lips. A putrid smell wafted through the crack making Lily nauseous.

  Lily didn’t know how long she and the… that thing stared at each other.

  It stared back at her and Lily thought she saw a sneer form on its cracked lips.

  Lily couldn’t move or breathe. She heard a squeak come from her lips because she was too frightened to do anything else.

  Lily had been staring at the thing for so long that she hadn’t realized it was now clawing at the floor. It was furiously trying to get out and if she remained in front of it, she’d become its next victim.

  Lily backed away, she stood and watched the door in terror as she heard the thing kicking, scratching and clawing at the door.

  She came out of shock long enough to realize that she needed to get out of there. She needed to escape before this thing busted through the door and attacked her.

  Lily turned and rushed down the hallway ignoring every room and the portrait of Harry Carlton as she flew down the stairs. She planned on grabbing her handbag with her stuff and getting the hell out of this place.

  Lily didn’t know what that thing was. She didn’t care as she landed in the foyer in a panic.

  But, she’d forgotten the time and standing the in the doorway was Michael Carlton.

  Lily stopped in the middle of the foyer. Panic once again set in as Michael stared at her from the doorway.

  Lily turned around and looked for a weapon. She spotted the huge fireplace and the tools sitting next to it.

  Her mouth went dry, her heart pounded against her ribcage, as the fear coursed through her veins.

  She wouldn’t go down without a fight even as she quaked with fear. She would defend herself to the end.

  “Lily—”

  “No!”

  Lily grabbed the poker and held it in front of her, knocking the rest of the tools to the ground. She shuddered at the clanging sound they made as they hit the floor.

  “You will let me leave,” she said.

  Michael put his hands up as if he were surrendering. “I will not hurt you.”

  “Like I’m supposed to believe that,” Lily said shaking the poker at Michael.

  “You’re going to let me leave and I will call the police, you sick fuck,” Lily said moving closer to the door that led to the kitchen.

  “If you would let me explain…” Michael started.

  Lily shook her head. “There is someone in that room,” she gasped. “You’re keeping her there.”

  Michael nodded. Lily noticed Michael’s facial expression change from defensive to emotionless. “Yes, there is. She will not hurt you as long as you stay away from there. I promise you that.”

  Lily laughed sarcastically. “Hurt me? I’m not the one trapped inside that room.”

  Lily took a few more steps towards the kitchen. “Let me go.”

  Michael looked down sadly and said, “I knew I couldn’t hide it for long. Did you recognize her?”

  Lily blinked in shock. The picture from the box came crashing back into Lily’s mind like a tidal wave.

  It was the long dark hair that Lily recognized, and then the delicate cheekbones and the dress. That dress was not modern. It was long and voluminous; the fabric was thick despite the tears.

  The eyes looked diseased and bloodshot but they still held their light blue color.

  Lily shook her head in denial. “No. This can’t be happening.” Lily didn’t want to believe it. “No… no… it can’t be.”

  “You searched my family,” Michael said. Lily did not hear anger only resignation in his voice. “I’m sure you realize that’s Hannah.”

  Michael’s voice caught when he mentioned Hannah. His lower lip trembled, but he tried to hide his emotions.

  At first, the words didn’t sink in. Lily’s eyes widened even further when she realized Mr. Carlton had just confessed that he’d been watching her research his family.

  “Have you been spying on me?”

  “Yes, but you’ve done the same thing.”

  “Why? Are you going to kill me?”

  Michael shook his head. “No.”

  Lily dropped the poker to the floor. All this was too much for Lily to process. There was a dead—no—undead woman locked away on the second floor of this house. The woman’s little boy was murdered by his father over a hundred years ago. The pale man standing in front of her bore an uncanny resemblance to the man in the portrait and the death photos.

  Lily felt dizzy from it all, but it made sense. The silhouette in the window, the wo
man’s face gazing down at her when she first arrived. It hadn’t been stress. It had been all too real.

  Lily held her stomach. She tried to maintain her balance. She needed to run far away from here.

  Lily didn’t want Mr. Carlton to explain any more about the thing upstairs.

  She turned on her heel and ran through the hallway and the kitchen. She struggled with the back door but got it open after a few turns of the knob. She stumbled down the steps and prayed she wouldn’t trip and fall.