by Amy Cross
Copyright 2019 Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.
Kindle edition
First published: April 2019
For many years, Aldburn Park has stood empty and abandoned. Now, however, Lord Matthew Fetchford is on the brink of death, and he insists he must return to his ancestral home. Something at Aldburn Park terrifies him, yet after all this time he is determined to finally go back and face the horror.
As Lord Fetchford prepares for the journey, he sends his butler ahead to open the house up. For Mr. Lawrence, the journey brings mixed feelings. He has a deep connection to Aldburn Park, and to its history, but he also remembers the night when the house was finally sealed. And although he is not a man who believes in ghosts, Mr. Lawrence cannot shake a sense of unease as he arrives – all alone – at the door to the great house.
What really happened on the night that Aldburn Park was abandoned? Where did Lady Catherine go after she was last seen? Was there a face at the window as Mr. Lawrence and his employer drove away? And what really lurks in the shadows as Lord Fetchford finally returns to face the consequences of his actions?
Table of Contents
Chapter One
A Departure
Chapter Two
A Stop Along the Way
Chapter Three
A Majestic Sight
Chapter Four
The Mirrors
Chapter Five
Echoes of the Past
Chapter Six
A Telephone Call
Chapter Seven
A Most Disobedient Switch
Chapter Eight
A Most Disagreeable Electrician
Chapter Nine
A Pleasant Arrival
Chapter Ten
The Summer House
Chapter Eleven
The Story of Lady Harpingdon
Chapter Twelve
The Story of Mr. Growley
Chapter Thirteen
A Conversation About Curiosity
Chapter Fourteen
A Trip Downstairs
Chapter Fifteen
The Authority of a Doctor
Chapter Sixteen
His Lordship's Arrival
Chapter Seventeen
The Fear of Death
Chapter Eighteen
Night is Coming
Chapter Nineteen
A Final Breakdown
Chapter Twenty
Blood is Sucked
Chapter Twenty-One
An Improper Moment
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Waiting is Over
Chapter Twenty-Three
Poor Matthew
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Flesh Drips
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Last Lord Fetchford
Chapter Twenty-Six
A Bus Stop
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Ghost of Catherine Fetchford
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Haunting of Aldburn House
The Haunting of Aldburn Park
Chapter One
A Departure
It should be possible to sit here in complete silence and not think of the past at all.
***
I set one additional shirt in my suitcase and then I begin to tie the straps in place, to make sure that the contents do not move too much during the journey. As usual, I have packed more than I believe I shall need. I am not certain that the washing facilities at Aldburn Park will be up and running during our stay, and I cannot risk letting His Lordship down. I have been his faithful butler for two decades now, and I shall not let my standards drop now, so close to the end.
***
Sitting on the end of the bed, with my packed suitcase next to me, I watch as the clock ticks over. There is nothing stopping me from leaving, and from getting a nice early start, but for the past few minutes I have been simply sitting here, watching the time go by. I shall leave soon.
***
Lord Fetchford wants the house to be opened, so of course it shall be opened. I would never dream of going against His Lordship's wishes. Nevertheless, I cannot help but question whether he has made the right choice. Especially in his present condition, I worry that His Lordship is putting undue strain on his health. The journey from Mayfair to Aldburn Park can only be made so bearable, and he has had such a bad week. Yet I suppose it is typical of his sense of honor – of family, of duty – that he so firmly desires to come back here to Aldburn Park at this difficult time. Deep down, I suspect that he is traveling there in order to die.
***
Once my suitcase is in the boot of the car, I step back and realize that it is time to leave. Aldburn Park awaits, and it would be wise to get there as early as possible. I can stop on the way for lunch at a public house.
***
I originally planned to set off from London shortly after breakfast this morning.
The weather was quite splendid as I started the motor, and I felt confident in an easy journey ahead. Indeed, when Mrs. Ferguson emerged from the kitchen with her customary last-minute list of tasks for me to complete upon arrival, the pair of us enjoyed a pleasant conversation about the day's charms, and we both observed that spring this year seems to be particularly vibrant and warm. Mrs. Ferguson can at times be quite loquacious, and often I find myself working to extricate myself from our conversations. On this occasion, however, I was happy to talk with her for as long as possible, and it was – unusually – she who eventually noticed the time and said that she would have to withdraw.
It was then, just as I was about to climb into the motor car and begin my journey to Aldburn Park, that I noticed a scuff mark on my driving gloves. The mark was only small, of course, and I could well have simply ignored the problem and set off, but I resolved instead to delay my departure until I had managed to repair the damage. This was not a simple task, unfortunately, since I had to find the necessary kit, and I spent fully two hours working on the seams. By the time I was done, lunchtime had crept upon me, and I realized that I might as well eat before leaving. It even occurred to me briefly that I could postpone my departure until tomorrow, but I swiftly realized that this would not be possible.
Fortunately, Mrs. Ferguson had more than enough food available, and a space was found for me at the kitchen table. I do not habitually dine with the ladies of the kitchen, since I find their talk rather wearisome and unnecessary, but on this occasion I rather loitered awhile. In the back of my mind, I was trying to calculate the latest possibly time by which I might set off and still make Aldburn Park by nightfall, and I soon realized that three o'clock was the optimum moment. So I lingered on my sandwich and tea, and by half past two I was starting to glance more frequently at the clock as I realized that time was almost upon me.
It was then that Mrs. Ferguson made a rather surprising, and completely incorrect, observation.
“Forgive me for being brash,” she said as she set some flowers on the counter, “but do I detect a reluctance to depart, Mr. Lawrence?”
This seemed most nonsensical.
“A reluctance?” I replied.
“I wouldn't blame you,” she continued. “You'll be all alone there for the first night, won't you?”
“And what does that have to do with anything?” I ask.
“Well, you know...”
Her voice trailed off, and for a moment we sat in silence.
“I'm not sure I'd like it much,” s
he said finally. “All those empty rooms, out there in the dark, so far from civilization.”
“There is nowhere more civilized than Aldburn Park in the entire county,” I protested.
“Of course,” she replied. “You know what I mean, though. It is out there all alone, with no other houses for miles and miles.” She glanced at me, and I saw a hint of fear in her expression. “It's been, what, two years since the house was last occupied? That's a lot of time for...”
Again, her voice trailed off.
“A lot of time for what?” I asked, struggling to hide my irritation.
“Well, it's just been sitting there, hasn't it?” she continued. “All those empty rooms, all dark and silent. To think of how Aldburn Park used to be, and how it is now. It gives me the shivers to think of it sitting there like that, and then you having to go in there and...”
I wait for her to finish, but it seems that today she is incapable of finishing half her sentences.
“Why don't you wait for the rest of us?” she asks suddenly. “You know that we're coming the day after tomorrow, don't you? There's really no need for you to go on ahead, Mr. Lawrence, so why put yourself through the strain? Let's all go together.”
“Absolutely not,” I reply. “I must attend to the house. As you so rightly point out, there is much work to be done before it is fit for His Lordship's arrival.”
“So you're off at once?”
“Indeed I am.”
I wait for her to reply, but now she is merely staring at me, as if she's waiting for something. After a few seconds, I realize that perhaps there is no real need for me to remain seated here, so I get to my feet.
“And I shall go right now,” I tell her.
“Indeed.”
I hesitate for a moment, before realizing that Mrs. Ferguson seems to think that I am delaying. Turning, I head to the door.
“And is it just the main house that you shall be opening up?” she calls after me. “Or shall you be opening the summer house as well.”
I stop in the doorway, feeling a completely unwarranted tightening sensation in my chest. I pause, wondering how best to reply to such an unnecessary question, and then I turn to see that Mrs. Ferguson is eyeing me keenly, almost as if she is afraid of my answer.
“I plan to inspect the entire estate,” I tell her.
“Even the summer house?”
“That is part of the estate, is it not?”
“Of course, but...”
Again, she fails to get to the end of her thought.
“His Lordship might wish to spend some time in the summer house,” I point out.
“Do you really think so?”
I open my mouth to reply to her, but for a moment it is I who now falls silent.
“Let us avoid any superstitious thoughts,” I say finally, deciding to remain diplomatic while also hoping to make the woman see sense. “You shall be arriving the day after tomorrow with May and Elizabeth, shall you not?”
She pauses, before nodding.
“Then I look forward to seeing you,” I tell her, as I turn once again to leave. “Now, if you will excuse me, I -”
“Don't go to that house!”
I stop again.
Did I hear her correctly?
Did Mrs. Ferguson, always one of the most professional people I have ever known, just blurt out something so utterly shocking? I do not wish to acknowledge what she said in any way, but finally I turn and look over my shoulder at her, and I see that she seems to be veritably quaking in her boots.
“I do apologize,” she says suddenly, turning to get on with the task of washing some cups. “Ignore what I said. I shall see you in two days' time, when I arrive with the girls.”
“Indeed,” I reply, and now as I turn away I am confident that the matter is settled, and the superstition shall most certainly not raise its ugly head again.
***
“Off to the house, then, are you?”
As I am about to climb into the motor car, I turn to find that Jack has emerged from the garage and is now grinning as he observes me.
“Indeed,” I reply. “You already know that.”
“I do, Mr. Lawrence,” he replies, “although I had wondered whether... Well, I suppose if it's what His Lordship wants, we're not placed to stand in his way, are we?”
“Indeed not.”
I turn to climb into the driver's seat, but at the last moment I notice a scratch on the door.
“What is this?” I ask, running a fingertip against the offending damage.
“Wasn't there yesterday,” Jack replies as he wanders over. “Maybe a bird caused it.”
“A bird?” I turn to him. “It's your job to keep His Lordship's motor vehicles in perfect condition. This is hardly a good advertisement for your skills.”
“Hang on,” he says with a sigh, “I can fix it. Just give me -”
“There's no time for that,” I reply. “I shall stop at the garage on Winchester Road and get them to perform the repair work.”
“But that'll delay you even longer,” he says. “Honestly, I can -”
“I would rather get the job done properly,” I tell him, before climbing into the motor car and pulling the door shut. “I can make up any delay that I incur. I suppose I should have expected such shoddy workmanship.”
That last comment was unfair and, as I drive away from the mews, I cannot help but wonder why I feel so tense. His Lordship's desire to return to Aldburn Park – after all this time – certainly caught us all by surprise, although I confess that I had considered the possibility. I suppose I had simply assumed that he preferred to keep that part of his life in the past, yet I should probably have realized that he would wish – at the end – to return to the place that has been his family's ancestral home for so many years. And now it is my job to facilitate this return, and to make sure that everything goes smoothly and according to plan. To that end, I must get to Aldburn Park as quickly as possible.
Ahead, the sky is sunny and cloudlessly blue.
Chapter Two
A Stop Along the Way
The Dartford Arms is a delightful little public house at the edge of a rather quaint village. I happened upon this spot quite by chance, after driving for over an hour along winding country lanes and encountering no other traffic. I stopped primarily because I felt it wise to pace my journey, but I must confess that after a while I became entangled in several long conversations with the locals. The upshot of this is that I have now secured lodgings for the night.
My arrival at Aldburn Park, therefore, is delayed until tomorrow morning.
This is not altogether the disaster that it might at first seem. I had intended to spend this evening checking the property for any hidden problems, and it had never been my intention to get down to work until first light the following day. Therefore, I shall not lose any particularly important time by staying overnight at the Dartford Arms and, indeed, I shall instead arrive refreshed and rejuvenated in the morning. What work could I have done, anyway, after arriving so late in the day? Why, I would have had barely an hour of light.
As I sit here in the saloon of the public house, then, I feel rather content with my decision. Had I been able to set off earlier, I would have been at Aldburn Park by now, but it is not my fault that events conspired to delay me. Now, glancing out the window during a lull in the conversation, I see the dimming horizon and I reflect upon the fact that Aldburn Park waits out there in the growing darkness, barely twenty miles away.
“And you said you're a butler?”
Turning, I see that one of my new companions – a jovial fellow, a farmer, by the name of Alan – is watching me and waiting for an answer.
“I am indeed.”
“I don't think I've ever met a real butler before,” he says, before turning to the men at the bar. “Have any of you lot ever met a butler?”
There's a general murmur, but the consensus seems to be that they have not.
“I thought they'd died
out,” Alan continues.
“Then allow me to reassure you,” I reply. “At the last count, the Associated Guild of Butlers counted around fifteen thousand members, and there could be up to as many again who are not affiliated.”
“Right, right,” he says, nodding his head as if deep in thought. “I suppose there are still plenty of folk who can afford a butler or two.”
“Traditions remain strong,” I point out. “Why, my employer Lord Fetchford could not be expected to organize the mundane aspects of his own life. Our country benefits from the fact that he is able to devote himself wholeheartedly to his political and charitable endeavors.”
I smile, but after a few seconds I realize that Alan and the men at the bar are eyeing me with apparent concern. The mood in the saloon has certainly shifted in the space of just a few seconds, and I cannot understand what might have caused such a change.
“Do you not agree, gentlemen?” I continue, unafraid of a light-hearted debate. Then again, perhaps these men are members of the anti-establishment mob, in which case they might be envious of men such as His Lordship. “I can assure you that Lord Fetchford contributes a great deal to the life of the country. Why, only the other month he -”
“Fetchford,” Alan says, interrupting me. “Matthew Fetchford?”
“Indeed. I -”
“Of Aldburn Park?”
I nod. “He -”
“Just down the road.”
“Indeed,” I say, choosing to ignore this spate of rude interruptions. At the same time, I am beginning to wonder whether these men are going to regurgitate the tired old gossip that I'd hoped had long since been put to bed. “I am on my way there now.”
