The Haunting

by Raymond M Hall

  ‘Supposing I did? I still came back didn’t I?’

  James said no more, sullenly sipping his coffee.

  Briony raised the old subject again as she had so many times in the past,

  ‘Why don’t you release me from this stupid pact. Surely you know that I don’t want to be here with you?’

  James answered without looking up,

  ‘I suppose it’s lover boy at the bakery now?’

  She didn’t answer but turned to leave.

  James sniped at her,

  ‘Go on then, hide away with the fairies again. I know where to find you.’

  She turned back at the door,

  ‘Supposing I could arrange for Caroline to return, would that satisfy you?’

  ‘Caroline!’ He exclaimed, holding his thumping head with both hands. ‘That stupid bitch couldn’t please a man marooned for ten years on a desert island. No, you’ll have to stay and forget any ideas about Mr high and bloody mighty Carmichael. You’re mine and never forget it!’

  Briony left the house and walked down the laneway. She turned off and headed for the main road but only travelled a short distance before changing direction once again. The woods were beckoning; she would find the peace and tranquillity she craved amongst the birds and rabbits.

  Sebastian moped around the house all day slowly recovering. He decided to reinvestigate the bakery as a way of taking his mind off Briony and walked out into the yard. The bakery door was open, as it always was and he walked in, shuddering at the sudden drop in temperature; it must have been all of ten degrees cooler inside.

  He occupied himself with cleaning up the debris lying around, and was soon totally absorbed. Some of the artefacts had to be over a hundred years old, perhaps even older he guessed. He tripped over and cursed as his toe caught something solid on the floor. It was that confounded ring. He limped around as the pain gradually receded, but what he saw now made him forget any pain he might be suffering. Before his eyes, there was a large dark stain growing around the iron ring. He stood staring at it before bending down, squatting on his haunches and watching the phenomenon unfolding before his eyes. He reached down to touch the stain and felt the wetness and withdrawing his hand looked closely at his fingertips. They were coated in a creamy red substance, and he absentmindedly put them to his lips, a coppery taste filled his senses, and he spat quickly. But he could still taste it, and now his eyes were feeling strange, he was beginning to see double. He tried closing one eye, and all became clear again, he tried the other and again his vision, although monocular was clear. When he opened both eyes, he experienced a sickly feeling entirely new. He wasn’t sure if it was double vision or not, but something wasn’t right. He felt unbalanced as he looked around at the walls and remained squatting not sure if he was able to stand. Looking down at the floor hoping that the closer focal length would correct the impediment, a new sensation invaded his senses. Through this strange new vision, he saw or thought he could make out the outline of a man’s head. It was lying on the floor in the middle of the red stain. The eyes were closed as if in sleep, but something told him he wasn't merely sleeping. The man was dead, and it was his blood which was even now continuing to invade the floor.

  Some sixth sense made Sebastian look up, only just in time to parry the blow being delivered to his head. Putting up his arm in defence and feeling the pain as something solid connected, the cry he made came out with a mixture of surprise, fear and actual pain. The dim outline of a man disappeared as he cried out but it was enough to convince him that his attacker was young, not old.

  Sebastian got to his feet as his vision returned to normal, he was grateful to be able to see clearly again, and the feeling of nausea it had caused was gone. However, a look at his arm brought yet another shock; a huge gash had opened up on his forearm. His blood was now spilling onto the floor to merge with the mystery stain at his feet, and as he watched, it became one pool of blood.

  He ran out of the bakery clutching his arm as blood pumped through his fingers. There was a first aid kit somewhere, he remembered buying it, but where the hell had he put it? He rushed into the bathroom and flung open the wall cabinet. There it was staring back at him as if challenging him to take it down and open it while his life’s blood ran down the sink plughole. He had to let go of his arm and felt the pumping resume as he struggled to open the first aid kit and remove a large compression bandage. Sebastian sat on the floor and wound the bandage around and around pulling it tighter with each wind, finally securing it with a small clip. Getting to his feet, he walked slowly upstairs to the bedroom, sinking gratefully down on the bed.

  He must have passed out then because the next thing he saw was Briony sitting beside him and washing his arm with warm water. He instinctively flinched as he felt the water, but there was no pain.

  ‘What have you been up to?’ She asked. ‘I found you up here with this bloodstained bandage wrapped around your arm. You must have used the biggest in the box because I saw smaller ones in the open first aid kit you left scattered around in the bathroom.’

  Sebastian sat up and looked down at his arm fearing the worst; it had been a massive wound caused by what looked like an axe. He flexed his fingers and turned his arm in amazement. There wasn’t a mark anywhere. Briony had washed the blood away, but there was no wound. He remembered how his eyes had gone out of focus and had begun to merge making everything difficult to define. He must have been dreaming. He recalled the dead man’s head on the floor and the pain as the object came down on his arm, it had seemed so real at the time but here he was, unmarked. Briony had finished the job of mopping up the blood and asked where she should put the dressing for safe disposal. In a flash of inspiration, Sebastian grabbed the bandage and led the way downstairs not stopping but continuing out into the yard and entering the bakery. He only paused in the kitchen to pick up the small gas lighter used for lighting candles, and now in the bakery, he pushed dry twigs into the oven followed by larger sticks lying just outside the entrance. He held the lighter to the twigs until they began to burn and then with a flourish tossed the bandage on top. The bigger sticks started to catch, and flames were licking at the bloody bandage. He glanced at Briony and saw her eyes were concentrated on the fire. Her iris’s were fully dilated, and she appeared to be oblivious to everything else around them. He reached for her hand and held her tightly. She returned the pressure, and they stood hand in hand as the bandage finally caught and began to burn. They turned to look at each other as a strange hiss began to emanate from the oven, but it seemed to be coming from the rear rather than from the little fire in front of them.

  Chapter 32

  Luke and Mary set out within the week on their new adventure. It would be a long journey and uncomfortable in the lightly sprung coach, and they would be able to cover only a few miles each day, spending the nights in the many coaching inns along the way. But they made the best of it and snuggled into each other during the day and often making love at night in the sometimes suspect beds. Not every innkeeper changed the bedding on a regular basis, and there were often unwelcome visitors in the night in the shape of fleas and lice.

  It was three weeks later that the travel weary couple entered the town of Plockton. Luke had been away for almost thirteen years, and his outward appearance had changed considerably. He had gained weight with the newly acquired lifestyle of an independent gentleman, and his clothes bore testimony to that status. The lady with him was much younger but still wore the clothes of the privileged class.

  It was the blacksmith who recognised him first and rushed out of his forge to embrace Luke in a bear hug of an embrace, lifting him bodily off the floor. One of the original band who had entered the town with Luke as leader, he quickly rounded up most of the others. A couple had died of natural causes, but most had remained there and were married with families of their own. Luke introduced Mary as his wife; they had decided to adopt the title of married couple instead of going through any laborious ceremony where people wa
nted to know far too much information for comfort. Who would know any different anyway? Neither cared a jot for religion so in no way felt any guilt about their relationship.

  In no time at all Luke and Mary were a part of the community. Luke was welcomed back by everyone, and almost immediately the townsfolk began to defer to his judgement on all things. The old bakery was thriving and had done very well without him, so Luke settled into the role of the landed gentry except he had no land. He quickly remedied that by purchasing a large parcel at the edge of town and commissioned the local stonemason to build him a home. Not just any house but one fit for a laird, for that was how the people were treating him. He had stopped off in the closest city to arrange a transfer of funds and was able to pay everyone in gold coin. He had created an upsurge in local business all by himself. Mary sought out the local dressmakers and distributed her needs equally between them so that everyone benefitted.

  It was some weeks after their arrival that Mary began to show. She had feared that she might be pregnant when her courses stopped. She should have been overjoyed, but now there was considerable doubt as to the paternity of her unborn child. She hoped and prayed it was Luke’s. Mary had never told Luke about being raped while being held prisoner. She considered that he shouldn’t have to suffer from the knowledge of that grisly business. However, unknown to her Luke was well aware of the situation from the words thrown at him by Ralph when he had attempted to escape in Bristol.

  Neither ever discussed it, and Luke was content to let Mary go on believing he didn’t know. The impending birth of a child, however, put the whole incident back into the spotlight. Mary was behaving strangely instead of joyously and Luke also seemed a little subdued. But as the evidence became more pronounced, the locals began to regale the couple with words of congratulation, and everyone agreed it was the best thing, not only for the town but also for the happy couple.

  At last, Mary could stand it no longer and made up her mind to tell Luke how Ralph had assaulted her and that the baby might be the result of her defilement. She decided that after dinner one evening would be the best time. The two servants they employed had cleared away the remnants of their dinner and retired for the night.

  Mary went to where Luke was sitting enjoying an after dinner brandy and knelt at his side.

  ‘Luke, I have something important to tell you, about the time I was held captive by Ralph in Bristol.’

  ‘Go on.’ Said Luke.

  She plucked up the courage and blurted out how he had taken advantage of her when she was tied up.

  ‘I had no way of stopping him.’ She said, beginning to shed a tear. ‘And I don’t know if I am carrying your child or his.’

  She dissolved into tears after this revelation and Luke reached out, putting an arm around her.

  ‘Mary, I have known all along what happened back there, he took great pleasure in telling me, trying to distract me to make his escape or to get the opportunity to do me in. It’s only a small chance that he is the father, so we shall never discuss it again. As far as I am concerned the child is mine and shall always be treated as such. That villain is dead and gone, and good riddance I say.’

  Mary looked up and wondered how she deserved such a good man. Her thoughts strayed to his wife, Bethany, and how he had spent so many years loyal to her despite the fact she was dead. Luke had only just accepted that fact, but Mary had known as soon as they entered the bakery. Bethany was there somewhere, she had never told him of her suspicions because he would have torn the place down brick by brick, but Mary could at first feel her spirit and then later encountered her presence. She silently thanked Bethany for her approval of their relationship, remembering the first night they had spent together and Bethany smiling in the doorway.

  Weeks turned into months, and Mary’s situation became apparent to everyone. The other women fussed around her assuring her that all would be well and they would be there to support and help her through her confinement. She was getting a little concerned about the size of the expected audience of helpers. She had no wish to give birth in a room crammed with every woman in town.

  The birth was not an easy one. Mary was in labour for over twenty-four hours, and Luke spent the whole time in the next room, pacing up and down listening to her crying out as the spasms wracked her body. The townswomen took it in shifts to attend her, and as they passed out of the room, they gave Luke a little forced smile which did nothing to placate his concern.

  He had finally drifted off into a troubled sleep when Mary’s piercing scream brought him immediately awake. He leapt to his feet and burst into her room. She was lying on the bed, naked, hair plastered over her face with perspiration and moaning. At her feet lay her baby. He could see it was a little girl and the women in attendance were cleaning her with a piece of cloth. He went to Mary’s side and sat on the bed, concern etched into his features. Mary looked up and managed a little smile, he smiled back and took her hand in his own. She gripped hard as a wave of pain passed through her already tortured body and he looked away to save her the anguished look on his face. His glance took his eyes down her body, and he winced as he saw the dark blood draining from her, saturating the bed. Looking up at the women standing at the foot of the bed he saw their drawn faces, and one gave a gentle shake of the head from side to side, and he knew then there was no hope. Mary was dying, her lifeblood draining from her with no way to halt the flow. She had haemorrhaged as the baby passed through the birth canal. One of the women spoke quietly,

  ‘The child was lying awkwardly, and the delivery was a struggle; something ruptured inside, and we can’t stop the bleeding. I’m so sorry Luke, it’s not an unusual occurrence during childbirth.’

  He looked at the woman as if to say it might not be unusual but it was his Mary lying there in a pool of blood. What did he care about others? His beautiful Mary was dying before his eyes.

  He leaned down and kissed her lips; they were as pale as her face, her entire body was being drained of blood. Mary whispered to him, and he had to put his ear to her mouth to hear her words.

  ‘I love you, Luke, I always have, look for me in the darkness, I will be there.’

  They were her last words. As Luke looked down at her for the last time Mary’s eyes closed and she sighed gently, her chest falling with her final breath.

  Luke sat next to her, holding her hand, feeling no pressure in response. He thought he could detect the warmth leaving her body, her hand becoming cold in his own. The women stood and waited patiently until he chose to stand and leave. With a final kiss placed lovingly on her pale forehead he turned and left giving the women a nod in a gesture of acknowledgement that he knew what they had to do next. The women gathered around the still body and began the laying out, taking care to wash her completely and prepared a clean nightdress for her final journey.

  In the next room, a woman was holding the baby wrapped in a shawl. Luke hesitated and then approached as the woman pulled it aside so he could see his baby daughter. He thought he could see Mary in her features but those eyes, they weren’t Mary’s, and as he stared down at the child, they seemed to take on a hardness.

  He felt a cold shudder pass through him as he recognised the look. He had promised Mary it would be their child no matter what and he would keep his word, for her sake. She was the mother, and that’s all that mattered. Luke smiled down at his daughter and thought he detected a glimmer of a smile in return, but the woman said it was probably only wind.

  The funeral was a sombre affair. Most of the town had turned out, and the little church was full to overflowing. Everybody knew and respected Luke and Mary, but now she was gone. They wondered if Luke would stay or leave, the house was not yet a quarter finished and lay abandoned. All work had stopped until the funeral was over but the workmen had received no encouragement from Luke as to when they should recommence. It was as if some dark cloud had descended on the entire town blanketing the population in misery.

  Luke was devastated; he had spent a good p
art of his life mourning the loss of his wife, Bethany, not knowing if she was dead or alive. Now he had physically suffered the loss and didn’t know which was worse? He walked out of the house and down to the side of the loch, sitting, alone for hours. Night came, and still, Luke didn’t move. The moon shone its mournful light over the still water, but all around him was darkness. There was no breeze, but suddenly he felt a chill around him, it touched his spine, making him shiver. He turned to face the breeze and there, standing behind him was Mary. He recalled her dying words,

  ‘Look for me in the darkness; I will be there.’

  He stood up but as he approached she began to disappear, only a slim silhouette remaining. She had kept her word, and it gave him the strength he needed to carry on.

  Luke never completed the house. It was to have been for him and Mary, and after her death, he didn’t have the heart to carry on. He rented one instead and employed a housekeeper, both to look after himself and as a nanny for the baby. A wet nurse was hired, and she also lived in, together with her child, a little boy.

  Luke named the child Rose hoping she would develop into a beautiful flower, like her mother. He had promised to always care for the child and treat her as his own even though he knew for certain she wasn’t his. It could only have been Ralph’s, and in Luke’s mind, he couldn’t get past that fact. Little Rose was christened in the local church, and Luke gave her his name carrying out his promise to care for her in every way.

  Seven years passed in the blink of an eye. Luke had aged and became listless. Rose was no longer a baby, however, the nanny remained, together with the housekeeper. The nanny’s young son was almost the same age as her, and the two appeared to be close, but the reality was very different. Rose taunted the boy, Archie, at every opportunity and led him a merry dance. In company with others, all was sweetness and nice but alone, Archie’s life became a living hell. Rose was cruel to him in both word and deed. She always reminded him that he was the son of their servant and on more than one occasion beat him with a stick if he failed to obey her every command. Luke saw none of this, he left Rose in the care of the nanny and rarely if ever spoke to her. She might have the looks of her mother, but there the resemblance ended. The child had a mean look to her with thin lips and hard eyes. She was, thought Luke, her father’s daughter without a doubt and the more she matured, the less he liked her. The townsfolk were also less than impressed with her. They had loved her mother for the beautiful person she was but not her daughter. Then came the day when the nanny gave her notice. She couldn’t bring herself to give the real reason so made an excuse that her mother had more need of her than Luke. The real reason being, was to save her son from any further physical abuse from Rose. At first, she had not noticed; Archie was able to cover up the bruises and marks from his beatings, but on one occasion Rose had lost her temper and beat him so severely with a stick that he could hardly walk. When his mother had insisted on examining him the truth emerged; his body was covered in bruises, both new and old. She insisted on leaving at once and walked out without even collecting her wages. Luke was left standing at the door wondering what had gone wrong but as he turned and saw Rose’s look he thought he knew.