The Silent Touch of Shadows

by Christina Courtenay

  They did find Sir Gilbert Presseille mentioned in an old document dealing with the battle of Northampton, which took place on the tenth of July 1460. The Earl of March, York’s son, was victorious and the document mentioned some of the men to whom he owed gratitude for this feat. Sir Gilbert was one such.

  ‘What was he doing all the way up there? Northampton is miles from here. Do you think he was a Yorkist all along?’

  ‘It’s possible. A lot of the people of Kent appear to have been on the Duke’s side, but it could have been a last-minute decision. Guess we’ll never know.’

  ‘Oh, this has to be the most infuriating case I’ve ever worked on,’ Melissa grumbled. Unfortunately, it was also the most important one and she couldn’t let it rest, even though it seemed the trail ended there.

  ‘There has to be something else, there just has to be.’

  A few days later she forgot all about Roger, however, as something even more momentous occurred, something which occupied her mind to the exclusion of all else.

  ‘No, it can’t be!’ Melissa shook the little container as if that would make it change its mind. The line on the indicator remained stubbornly blue. Shocked, she sank down onto the closed toilet seat. It would seem Jolie would have her wish after all.

  How could this have happened? They’d been so careful. Except for that first time … Melissa knew that was all it took. After all, this wasn’t the first time she’d been in this situation. ‘Damn, you’d think I would have learned my lesson then,’ she muttered.

  ‘Lord, I must be the most fertile woman on earth.’ She glared at her reflection in the mirror. ‘Melissa Grantham, you are a first-class idiot. Stupid, stupid, idiot.’

  Jake would probably be delighted, and so would everyone else. Except her. Not that she didn’t want more children, but this one hadn’t been conceived under what she would call normal circumstances. What sort of child resulted from a union between a human and a ghost? A slightly hysterical laugh escaped her.

  ‘Get a grip, woman,’ she admonished the face in the mirror sternly. Ghosts could no more create children than they could come alive again. This was Jake’s child, and no one else’s. She lowered her face into her hands and tried to massage away the tension building steadily inside her temples.

  ‘So what do I do now?’ She thought she felt a caress at the nape of her neck and shrugged it away. If Roger was trying to pacify her now, he was too late. This was all his fault and she’d had enough.

  If only she could solve the mystery. If only she could make Roger go away. But she had tried everything she could possibly think of … or had she?

  ‘No, wait,’ she exclaimed. She gritted her teeth in determination. There was one thing she hadn’t tried yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘Sibell, my love, you are a sight for sore eyes.’

  ‘You’re back!’ Sibell was startled to find Roger outside Ashleigh Manor’s front door in full daylight and alone, but since she was overjoyed to see him again, she forgot everything except the here and now. She flew into his arms with a little shriek.

  ‘Indeed I am and with excellent news. I’ve been acknowledged by Sir Gilbert and have come to formally ask for your hand in marriage.’

  ‘Sir Gilbert is definitely your father? And he’s agreed to tell everyone?’ At his nod, she laughed and kissed him. Happiness bubbled up inside her as he kissed her back with the pent-up passion of many weeks and for a while they both forgot his errand in their blissful reunion.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ The sneering voice of Simon intruded on their idyll. He sauntered up to the couple with his arms crossed over his chest aggressively, closely followed by his younger brother Edmund, who wasn’t slow to add his comments.

  ‘Well, well, if it isn’t the whoreson of Langford making free with our sister. What do you think of that, brother?’

  Roger froze and cursed under his breath. Sibell’s heart disappeared into her throat and she swallowed convulsively. They shouldn’t have been so careless, but in truth, the sight of Roger after such a long time had obliterated every other thought. When he was near she couldn’t think rationally.

  ‘I have come to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage,’ Roger informed the brothers stiffly, looking from one disbelieving face to the other. They quickly recovered from the shock and burst into loud guffaws of laughter.

  ‘Marriage? To you? That’s rich, upon my word.’

  Sibell stamped her foot. ‘Stop it, the pair of you! He’s come to see Father, not you. Leave him alone.’

  ‘Oooh, the little cat shows her claws.’ Simon’s childish jeer made her even more furious and she was on the verge of boxing his ear.

  ‘Very well, this way, sir. I’m sure our father will be very interested in hearing what you have to say.’ Edmund made their guest an elaborate bow and indicated the way into the hall. Roger managed a reassuring look at Sibell before marching past the brothers with his head held high. Into the lion’s den.

  Simon fixed Sibell with an angry glare. ‘As for you, go away and leave this to us. It’s men’s business. I’m sure Father will call for you if you are needed.’

  With a smirk he followed his brother and Sibell stood looking after him, seething with anger and nerves, but unsure what to do about it. Oh, if only she had been a man … Well, she’d be damned if she was going anywhere. She had a right to be present, too.

  Exorcism was an ugly word. It conjured up images of angry demons, of people possessed by the devil and of evil practices. It made Melissa feel sick to the stomach, but she couldn’t see any other way. There was simply no alternative. Once her decision had been made, she went in search of Dorothy immediately.

  The old lady was doubtful at first. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this? It sounds a bit drastic, you know.’ It took all Melissa’s powers of persuasion to make her great-aunt understand that this course of action was necessary.

  ‘I just can’t go on like this, Dorothy,’ she told the older woman, ‘and you have to admit I’ve tried everything else. It’s driving me insane.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, but …’ Dorothy shook her head sadly. ‘I just have this feeling it will do more harm than good, but on the other hand I hate to see you suffer. It’s been so nice to have you and Jolie living here, I couldn’t bear it if you left now.’

  Melissa hugged the old lady and reassured her. ‘Of course we won’t leave. We love it here.’ Ashleigh felt like home now and Melissa knew it always would. ‘But I refuse to share the house with Roger. If he stays you’ll soon be living with a raving lunatic. I mean it.’

  ‘Well, if you say so.’ Dorothy didn’t protest any more, but Melissa knew she was still uneasy.

  The Reverend Mr Brindle was a large, florid man, whose supreme self-confidence was evident in the way he carried himself. Here was clearly a vicar who believed himself chosen to lead the poor sinners of his congregation, Melissa thought scathingly. He obviously considered himself to be in a position to judge them as well. Quite why she disliked the man so much from the very beginning she couldn’t say. She only knew she had to force herself to be civil when he looked down his long nose at her.

  The Reverend Brindle had brought an assistant. Small and thin, and painfully new to his vocation, Mr Atwell didn’t say a word beyond a polite greeting. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down nervously. He was clearly in awe of Mr Brindle, his gaze full of admiration whenever he looked at the older man.

  ‘When performing the rite of exorcism it is vital that a second minister be present,’ Mr Brindle informed them after the necessary introductions had been made. ‘One has to be prepared to meet strong opposition, spiritual and psychic, and should one minister become incapacitated the other has to be ready to step in.’

  Melissa almost laughed. She couldn’t imagine Mr Atwell stepping into the breach at a time of crisis. The poor man looked like he was wishing himself a hundred miles away. Anywhere but in this room. He was sweating profusely and kept rubbing his palms
against his over-sized cassock.

  She detained him by the door by placing a hand on his arm, and even that small gesture made him jump. ‘Are you all right, Mr Atwell?’ she whispered.

  ‘I, er …’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll be fine. It’s just that I never thought … I mean we were taught about these things at college, of course, but I never imagined anyone actually … that’s to say …’

  Melissa took pity on him. ‘You didn’t think anyone did this sort of thing in real life, is that it?’ He nodded, eyes wide with fright.

  ‘Yes, yes that’s precisely what I thought. And in my first week, too.’ He hesitated and swallowed hard. ‘I have to tell you,’ his face went a shade paler and he leaned close to whisper confidingly, ‘that I saw one once.’

  ‘A ghost?’

  ‘Yes, when I was a child. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It was an evil looking thing, floating about.’ He shuddered. ‘I would rather not repeat the experience.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I really am desperate, Mr Atwell. The ghost in this house has been plaguing me for months. If you were that scared just from one sighting, imagine how I feel having to live with one all the time.’

  ‘Oh, of course. I hadn’t considered that.’ He made a visible effort to pull himself together. ‘Well, I’m sure Mr Brindle will make every effort to help you and I’ll try to assist as best I can.’

  ‘Thank you, I really appreciate it.’

  Their whispered conversation at an end, Melissa walked over to the Reverend Brindle. ‘You have done this before then?’ she asked. Her own body was shaking. This wasn’t going to be any easier for her than for poor Mr Atwell.

  ‘Several times, and I met with little resistance.’

  Probably because there were no spirits there to resist you, but you might find it slightly more difficult in this house. Melissa kept her thought to herself and just nodded.

  ‘Please, have a seat.’ Dorothy indicated the sofa, and he sat down ponderously before rummaging in a large black bag. He brought out a Bible, a crucifix, some candles and a container of holy water. These items he placed with great care on a pristine white cloth, which he spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He proceeded to light the candles and they flickered, as if they too were uneasy. Mr Atwell perched nervously beside him, his eyes darting around the room.

  Melissa’s hands were clammy. A tension headache had been building steadily behind her eyes for the last hour, and she wished the whole process over and done with. Thank goodness Jolie isn’t here, at least. Melissa hadn’t told her about the exorcism and hoped it would all be over before her daughter came back from visiting Amy. She glanced at Dorothy, who was sitting quietly on the other side of the room looking resigned. The old lady’s fingers were laced together in her lap as if in readiness for prayer. Melissa wondered if Dorothy had been right. Would they do more harm than good?

  Exorcism. The word echoed inside her, and knifed the back of her head. The ache began to pound at her brain with the strength of a sledge-hammer. Can’t the stupid man hurry up? She wanted to scream with frustration.

  ‘You’re sure this will work, Mr Brindle?’ She plaited her fingers together in her lap to keep from biting her nails.

  ‘My dear Ms Grantham, the Church exists to undo the devil’s work and it certainly appears that you have some form of demonic presence in this house. We shall bring the power of God to bear on those poor souls who need deliverance from evil, and perform a spiritual cleansing of this dwelling. I think you will find it most helpful.’

  Melissa still had serious doubts, but she kept silent as he prepared himself with a prayer.

  ‘Nooo! Wait! Listen to me.’

  The plea made Melissa jump and she received a look of irritation from Mr Brindle. She glanced at the other occupants of the room, but they didn’t seem to have heard anything. Roger, please, we must do this, she answered the voice silently inside her head and tried to concentrate on the priest’s words. It’s for your own good.

  The vicar stood up and began by blessing the house, sprinkling holy water into all four corners of the room. ‘Peace be to this house and all who dwell in it,’ he intoned. ‘Let us pray together. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name …’

  The familiar words of the Lord’s Prayer flowed over Melissa and soothed her agitated mind temporarily as she recited them with the others. She relaxed slightly. However, when they reached the words ‘… but deliver us from evil …’ there was a sudden noticeable drop in temperature, and her teeth started to chatter. If the others noticed, they gave no sign. She scanned the room, but couldn’t see Roger anywhere. Would he put in an appearance, or would the vicar’s words just make him disappear forever? Somehow the thought of that possibility made her want to cry out in anguish.

  ‘… for thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory for ever and ever. Amen.’ As Mr Brindle finished, the two candles were swiftly extinguished by a draught of air. The younger clergyman turned ashen and swallowed hard when the cold gust whooshed past his face.

  The Reverend Brindle was made of sterner stuff and ignored the interruption. ‘Free this place, O Lord, from all disturbances of demons and deliver it from evil. Spirits begone from this place, be banished for ever …’

  The headache had grown to monumental proportions and Melissa cradled her head with her hands to ease the pounding.

  ‘In the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, I command you to leave here and proceed to that place beyond death which God has prepared for your reception and healing.’

  The pain was agonising. Unbearable.

  The priest repeated his command to the spirits of the house to leave, and as Melissa’s eyes opened briefly she saw Mr Atwell staring towards the fireplace in stupefied terror. She turned to look at the familiar figure of Roger for the last time, but instead of his normal handsome self, her eyes encountered a horrifying sight. He was bleeding, battered and bruised, swaying as if he was having trouble staying upright. His face was contorted with pain and rage, and she could almost see the sparks flying from him. The air all around fairly crackled with his fury and frustration and in his hand he brandished his sword, as if defending himself from multiple attackers. Melissa drew in a shaky breath and looked at Dorothy. Could she see him, too? She thought she probably could, since the old lady’s mouth was open in astonishment even though she remained calm.

  The door to the hall slammed shut with such force that it shook the walls and a painting became dislodged. A crack appeared in the plaster next to the doorframe, zig-zagging its way up the wall. Mr Atwell gave a pitiful little moan and crumpled into a heap on the sofa in a dead faint. Everyone ignored him.

  Eyeing the imposing spectre by the fireplace with determination, the Reverend Brindle raised his voice to repeat his command to the spirits for the third and last time.

  ‘Free this place, O Lord, from all disturbances …’

  ‘No! Hold! I haven’t finished …’

  Melissa’s head was being torn apart by the wails of anguish. She was in real danger of being extremely sick right there on the carpet. She tried to will the voice to leave her alone, but there was no let-up. It was relentless, wearing her down. She just couldn’t stand it.

  ‘NO! Stop! Please, please, stop,’ she screamed at the vicar, great sobs beginning to rack her body. She supported her head between her hands. ‘We c-can’t do this, I’m s-sorry,’ she hiccoughed. ‘It’s wrong.’

  Mr Brindle had been cut off in mid-sentence and it obviously wasn’t something he was used to. He glared at her angrily.

  ‘My dear Ms Grantham,’ he hissed, ‘I am a man of God and you are probably under the influence of the demons I’ve come to expel. I shall ignore you.’

  ‘No, please, you have to stop. It’s all wrong.’

  Visibly controlling himself with an effort, he came over and put a large hand on the top of her head in a gesture of concern. ‘My dear child, what makes you think it’s wrong for a s
oul to take his rightful place beside God? Surely, that is as it should be?’

  ‘No, not in this case. Not yet. He – that is the spirit – has something which binds him to earth, unfinished business. Until it’s done, he can never rest in peace. Please believe me, I’m absolutely sure of this.’ The tears continued to stream down her cheeks, but the ache behind her eyes was receding. ‘I want you to leave now.’

  ‘Very well.’ Tight-lipped, he conceded defeat, although only temporarily as his next words confirmed. ‘I shan’t continue today, but I beg of you to reconsider your decision during the next few days. I’ll be happy to come back another time when you are less distraught. There is no need for you to be present if you don’t wish to be.’ He clearly thought it was her own feelings at stake here, and Melissa saw no reason to enlighten him further. Let him think whatever he wanted. It made no difference. She had to find another way.

  Mr Brindle packed up his things with jerky movements, indicating his impatience with such stupidity, but he couldn’t continue without permission. Dragging the terrified, but slightly recovered, Mr Atwell with him, he disappeared after a curt, ‘Goodbye.’

  Completely drained, Melissa stayed in her chair as Dorothy saw the clergymen out. The angry shape by the fireplace had melted into the shadows as soon as Mr Brindle had stopped his incantation.

  Melissa was alone. For now.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘You’ve come to do what?’

  Instead of Sibell’s father, Roger was facing her eldest half-brother Henry, the dim-witted one. Apparently John of Ashleigh was out inspecting the fields so Roger had had to state his business to the heir instead. He tried to keep calm as he repeated his errand a second time, although it annoyed him that Simon had failed to mention his sire’s absence. ‘Is your father expected back soon? If not, I can return later.’