The Haunting at Hawke's Moor (10 page)

Pale light filtered in through the
window as Anne woke. Everything was quiet; there was no eerie
feeling in the room, and the house was still. Again she had to
consider whether she'd imagined everything, but everyone had the
same feeling about the house. How much evidence did she
need?

The question was what she could do
about it. Like everyone else, she had read about the fantastical,
the world beyond. Séances were popular in the right circles,
seeking connection with the afterlife. Mediums performed
cleansings, seeking to lay wayward spirits to rest. The truth was
that this house had a wayward spirit, someone who appeared to walk
these rooms at night.

Perhaps she needed to write to one of
these mediums, get them to perform a cleansing, assist the spirit
to their rightful place and to leave this house in peace. There
were a number of famous mediums, their tales told in the
periodicals, devoured by voracious readers. It was an idea. Doing
something about this issue seemed the practical thing to do. All
houses came with their pests—rats the least of her problems, it
appeared.

Dressing and moving down to the
parlor, Anne wrote a letter seeking help. She wrote about
everyone's discomfort, their feeling about being watched and
whispers in the night. Alfie was tasked with taking the letter to
the coach. It would take him most of the day, but he didn't seem to
mind. He still looked ill, his face grave. "Are you sure you are
sleeping?" she asked him as he stood in the parlor, waiting for the
missive put in his charge.

"Fine, ma’am," he replied.

"Perhaps we need to give you greater
portions." He ate voraciously as it was. They certainly weren't
starving him during suppers, when he ate and Lisle watched him with
hurt disdain. The relationship hadn't repaired. It certainly wasn't
Anne's place to pry.

Anne watched him through the window as
he started walking. He seemed to be mumbling. It seemed unkind, but
maybe it was him that caused all the unease. They'd been fine
before his arrival. Perhaps she should send him away. There was a
possibility he was being mischievous, trying to drive them away.
Not everyone in this district was welcoming to incomers.

If the medium came and found nothing,
she would know. Things would be infinitely more difficult without
Alfie’s labor, but if he was uncouth, or otherwise malicious, he
couldn't stay.

The days passed and Anne watched
Alfie, unable to let her suspicions go. The house had also seemed
quiet. There was the occasional disturbance in the room at night,
but Anne drew up her blankets and stayed inside her cocoon of
safety, her heart beating as she tried to calm her breath, telling
herself that it didn't matter. She would not be driven out of her
house by man or ghost.

"Where’s Alfie?" Anne asked as she
walked into the kitchen, her stomach rumbling in eagerness for
supper.

"He’s not here yet," Lisle
responded.

Anne wondered if Lisle was avoiding
Alfie. She might be wise to. "I will collect him," Anne said with a
smile. Lisle seemed to be getting over her ill-placed jealousy and
nodded.

Icy wind whipped at her skirts as she
opened the kitchen door and stepped out into the dark yard. The
chickens had found their roosting places for the evening. They more
or less had free reign around the entire estate. Hopefully they
would collect more animals over time. Sheep for wool, pigs for meat
and horses for transport.

"Alfie," she called as she walked
toward the stable, knowing he should be well back from bringing the
cow to the fields. There was a faint light coming from inside, but
nothing was heard. "Alfie," she called louder. "Where has that man
gotten to now?" she muttered to herself.

Walking into the stable, she looked around,
seeing Alfie's form standing in the stable, a muck rake in his
hand. "Why didn't you answer me?"

He didn't move; didn't even turn to
look at her, just stared at the wall. "Alfie," she said again, but
nothing.

Tentatively, she took some steps
closer. He stood with the rake in his hand, just staring, his lips
slightly parted and his eyes glassy. "Alfie?" she said, touching
his arm. He startled violently and Anne jumped back with
shock.

"Jesus Mary," he said, his arms up as if
protecting himself, looking around him wildly until he saw her.

Anne's heartbeat was thundering in her ears.
"I was calling you and you didn't hear me. I called repeatedly,
right here, standing next to you." He was clearly touched in some
way. "Maybe you need to go lie down."

"I'm fine."

"No, I insist."

He marched out of the stable without another
word, seemingly angry. Right now, she didn't care. He had scared
her half to death and she needed to figure out what to do about
him.

Stroking along the skin exposed along her
neck, she returned to the house, feeling uncomfortable having him
out there somewhere where she couldn't see him. There was something
very wrong with him.

"Are you sure you haven't been letting Alfie
into the house at night?"

"I haven't," Lisle said.

"I am not angry; it is just very important
that I know."

"I told you I haven't. Besides, he's no
interest in me now, prefers to spend time on his own." The
bitterness was still evident in Lisle's voice. "He'd much rather be
in his room than mine."

"I still hear things at night," Anne
said.

"Well, it's not Alfie. He can't get in. The
doors are locked."

"Unless he's found some way."

"Alfie wouldn't hurt anyone," Lisle said
with confidence. "He's not like that. He's gentle, so very gentle.
You don't know him like I do." Anne wasn't so sure Lisle's
impressions could be trusted. "He's just changed, that's all," she
finished more quietly.

A few days later, a carriage was
coming. She watched its long approach, hoping her letter had met
with success rather than another visit from the vicar, who would
firmly discourage any course of action to address inconsistencies
in the house. Obviously, a visit from the vicar would be a delight,
but she had pressing concerns she needed dealt with. And she had to
know what she was dealing with.

Alfie wandered around outside. Anne viewed
him a little like a wolf prowling outside the house. He only ever
came inside for supper or unless called. Either way, they would
know soon. He wandered forward as the carriage drew closer, ready
to take the horse if necessary. Irrationally, Anne felt as if he
was standing between her and help. A ridiculous notion, but she
couldn't help it.

As she watched, Alfie turned around. Their
eyes made contact for a moment. There was no expression on his
face.

It
had
to be the medium. This needed
resolution.

"Who is it?" Lisle asked behind her. "Is it
the vicar?"

"Hopefully, someone who can help with
the house."

Lisle didn't say anything, only shifted
around, straightening some things in the room.

As the carriage arrived, Alfie stepped
forward to the horse, gently letting the beast smell him. Anne half
expected the beast to rear back in dismay, but it didn’t. Through
the window, a head appeared, covered in a velvet fez. "Miss Sands?"
he said through the window as if he wanted to be sure before he
committed.

"Mr. Harleston, thank you so much for
coming."

"How could I not when you described
such deplorable conditions, my dear lady." Opening the door, he
stepped out, his form covered in more velvet. "Such a place like
this. It is not a surprise you have experienced some trouble." His
mustache was thin, the same golden color as the hair sprouting
under the fez, and large, jolly cheeks. "Ooh," he said as he looked
around at Alfie, taking a step back. He walked over to Anne and
holding his elbow out for her to take as if they were old
acquaintances. "Some problems there," he whispered. "That boy's
energies are being depleted."

Anne listened intently, but he didn't say
anything further, instead turning and looking up at the façade of
the house. "Quite something."

"It's been abandoned for quite some time.
Most people around these parts think it's haunted."

"So many houses claim to be haunted,"
he said dismissively. "That boy's not right, though."

"He has been acting strangely."

"Sometimes spirits attach themselves to
people rather than houses. It's been known to occur. Has there been
any death in his family?"

"From what I understand, most of the
family."

"Perhaps not surprising,
then."

They walked up the stairs. Lisle had
tea prepared, but as Anne walked through the door of the house, Mr.
Harleston stopped, his arm slipping out of hers. His eyes lowered
to her. "I see what you mean. This is not some foolish claim. There
are spirits in this house."

Anne stared at him, not knowing how to
respond. "Spirits?" she said. "More than one?"

"Yes, more than one." He closed his
eyes.

"Won't you come in, Mr. Harleston?"
she said, feeling awkward as she watched the man standing on the
stoop outside as if in a daze.

"Best not," he said apologetically. "It may
cause a disturbance. There is darkness in this house, Miss Sands,
but it slumbers. As they say, let sleeping dogs lie. Others are
protecting you."

"Protecting me?"

"Hiding you."

"Is it something I should worry about?"

"There are steps you can take," he
said earnestly, urging her back outside. "Sage is very good at
calming restlessness, both in this world and beyond. It lulls the
spirits." He took a step back. Now Anne could see the anxiety on
him. "Calm is the best course, of course. You have been here quite
a while without incident."

"Well, there are the odd noises. I feel like
someone is watching me."

"I doubt they mean you harm." He turned to
Alfie. "He should perhaps leave. The spirits are a bit more
exuberant with him."

"I don't understand," Anne said.

"Have you considered closing the house
and leaving?" Mr. Harleston said with a smile that aimed not to
alarm.

"This is the only property I have available
to me."

He looked at her calmly. "That is
unfortunate. Never mind. We must do what we can. As I said, sage is
a fantastic option. Calm is even better. Spirits only really bother
if they are distressed, so high passions agitate. Not unlike cats,
in their way. So, calm and collected." Mr. Harleston was walking
back to the carriage.

"It is a shame you came all this way and
can't stay at least for some refreshments. It is such a long
journey."

"I fear entering might cause more trouble
where it's not needed. It is better this way. A balance can be
found between the living and spirit world. Although perhaps keep
men out. Something in that house particularly attaches to men by
the look of your stable boy."

Anne's thoughts traveled immediately to
Harry, then she felt ashamed that her concern was for her son when
Alfie was clearly suffering. "There is no effect for someone who
leaves here?"

"Unlikely. Most often it is the
location that is the conduit. But as it is, your stable hand is
growing weaker; you should send him away, or deal with
it."

"How can we deal with it?" Anne asked, her
hope flaring.

"Sage will chase them away."

"Them?"

"Well, I don't know exactly, but sage
will protect him. Dry and burn it. Have it on his person. He could
even bathe in it, if he wishes. His strength will soon return. Do
not worry so, my lady, spirits are as part of this world as the
living. It is only a matter of finding balance."

The medium closed the door and the carriage
set off. Anne stood with Alfie not far away. "He said we must
cleanse your room to ensure no one harms you," she said. She was
pleased that it wasn't Alfie that was causing all this, because
like her, he probably had few places to go. "We'll sort this."

Getting her cloak, Anne set off to a
walk, which would let her absorb all that Mr. Harleston had said,
and also to find sage. She was sure she had seen some previously;
she just couldn't remember where. If they had to burn sage day and
night in censers to make all this fade away, then they
would.

Her mind was racing as she wandered
away. There was something in the house. A shiver of panic set in
and she tried to dismiss it. There was a plan to deal with it and
that was what she had to focus on. According to Mr. Harleston,
there was both dark and light in the house, the light protecting
them from the darkness. She had no idea what to tell Lisle and
Alfie. Obviously, they had the right to know the house they were
living in was haunted. Another spear of panic flared through
her.

Mr. Harleston had been so calming; he
left the impression there was nothing to worry about as long as
they took the right steps and lived a peaceful life free of
passions. Well, perhaps it was a good thing that Lisle and Alfie's
relationship had waned. Maybe it was the relationship that had
caused so much trouble in the first place.