by Jill Harris
"And where are the Black Dog Hills?"
Hoxley's face creased into a frown. He cocked his head. "North of the town. Walk up the lane past The Mermaid pub and the path takes you to the old barn. Go round that, keep climbing. Half way up the hill is the Apothecary House, and then, top of the hill is where you'll find the Dancing Maidens."
Adeline recalled the misty downs encircling Templesea to the north. She wondered if the pebble labyrinth was near the stones. "Dancing Maidens?"
He sucked in his cheeks. "A ring of nine girt standing stones."
"I expect there's a lovely view from up there."
"True enough. You can see across three counties on a good day. Devon, Dorset and Somerset. But see, don't you go thinking them stones is like any other place for visiting and larking about. This ent London."
"I assure you, larking about was the last thing on my mind." Adeline was interested in archeology though. "I'd like to visit the stone circle one day."
She decided to put it high on her list of distractions. She knew that if she stayed in the Captain's employ, she would need to get away from the turgid goings on at Raven"s Nest.
"Visit if you must Miss Winslow, but only in daylight. Cuz those stones are witching stones. They've been here since heathen times, and when you goes among them, you must show respect."
"Why are they called that name?"
"Story goes that one Lammas night, eight witches decided to meet and cast a spell over the whole town. Well, the devil looked up from hell and he sees them and he can't help but notice they was all comely girls. So he wanted them for hisself. He rose up from the sea in a ball of fire and turned them to stone, knowing they'd always be where he could find them. Once a year on Lammas night, they comes back to life and starts dancing again. And the devil joins with them, playing his pipes and trying to lure young girls to join him. When they're exhausted from the dance, he takes them off in a devil ship. Then he drowns them at the temple of the sea witch."
"Eight witches? I thought you said there were nine stones? And there's a sea witch? Is she one of the stones?"
"The ninth is smaller than the others. They say it were a little black dog, a witch's familiar, a faithful animal what followed them everywhere. Dog wouldn't leave its mistress and the devil turned it as well. They calls it nine maidens because the dog weren't no ordinary dog, but one as would scare the children if she'd lived to come down from them hills. Ah, but the sea witch ent made of stone. Some say she still lives in a cave beneath the cliffs."
Adeline wondered if all country towns had such a plethora of local myths. She presumed it gave people the opportunity to frighten their children away from bad behaviour. "Was it a supernatural dog? A hell hound perhaps?"
Hoxley nodded enthusiastically. "That it was. The dog was the spirit of a dead witch come back to life. She was the most powerful witch of all, see, living inside the animal and helping with spell casting and the like. No wonder she danced up there with the others. She couldn't leave them behind, could she?"
If the dog was a female too, then the hills should more accurately be called the Black Bitch Hills, but Adeline supposed that would be taking the spirit of the thing too far.
"What a colourful legend. I shall be sure to visit the stones as soon as the weather clears."
His face broke into a manic grin. "It ent the sort of place for a nice lady such as yourself to go walking about on her own, though. Some nights, when the moon is full, you'll come across the ghost of the Quiet Woman. She was hung as a witch, and her burning body comes down from the Gibbet Cliff to the church, so as the Lord may bless her and forgive her sins, see?"
"I think so."
"And then there's the other problem."
"Oh my heaven's. Another problem?" Adeline said, fanning herself with her hand. It was suddenly hot in the house and she was more than a little excited at all the strange talk she'd encountered that day. Here she was, a woman who wanted adventures, having more than enough for several lifetimes.
"That there is. See, my wife's second cousin's husband's sister, Millicent Baxter, told us there's still a coven, that there's always been a coven of witches in Templesea. When the moon is full, they goes up to the stones and does unspeakable things. Some says they dance and cavort, unclothed. Dreadful doings. You don't want to disturb their rituals. Any who sees them doing the devil's work gets cursed to die in a horrible accident within the week."
"A curse. Oh dear. I shall bear that in mind. Thank you for the detailed account."
"This town has a reputation for mystical goings on and no mistake. Can't have a proper lady like you dying of a witch's curse through ignorance of our ways, can we?"
"Hopefully not."
"As if we didn't have enough to trouble what with the demon what the Captain brought back to this house."
Her knees felt weak but she stayed upright. This was what she was after, greater details about this supposed demon and its attachment to the Captain. Adeline fixed Hoxley with an inquiring look. "Tell me more about this demon."
"Can't."
"What do you mean?"
"Sorry ma'am. Can't speak of it," he said, glancing around as if someone might be just about to burst out of the walls and accuse him of something dreadful. "I've said too much already."
"It might help me to help him if I knew more about this supposed demon."
"Ent nothing supposed about it."
"Go on."
But Hoxley refused to be drawn any further on the subject. "All truths," he said, tapping the side of his crooked nose. "Must not be told at all times."
Adeline sighed. "Perhaps not."
"But he's here. In the shadows. The demon is lurking, watching us all. Mark my words, I knows it."
"What have you seen?"
He shook his head. "Can't say no more."
But Hoxley had now fully recovered from his earlier need for conversation. He silently handed her a candlestick. She smiled at him but felt it fade on her lips. His sneer was exaggerated by the glow of her candle's flame, such that he resembled one of the gargoyles illustrated in the pages of the demon book.
Then he was off, running up the sweeping staircase, darting along the left-hand corridor at the top of the stairs, into the darkness.
He moved so fast she almost lost sight of him.
Chapter 14
As she made her way up the stairs with as much pace as she could, Adeline wondered whether the man ever slowed down. Panting on the landing, she saw Hoxley at the far end of the west wing. She picked up her skirt with one hand, gripping the candlestick with the other, and swept towards him. At the far end of the corridor she could just make out his stick-like figure take a right turn at the end of the corridor, rushing through the gloom.
Her footsteps echoed on the bare floorboards. The tallow flame cast odd shadows on the walls which gave the fearful illusion there were people moving along the hallway beside her.
A trick of the light, she told herself shivering because it was disconcerting nonetheless.
The salt smell of the sea was everywhere. There was also an underlying scent of spice, similar to vanilla pods or sugared almonds. She wondered if the cook had been busy baking, and her stomach reminded her once again that it was a very long time since she had eaten.
Her room was round the corner in an abutting turret at the end of the west wing. Hoxley threw open the door for her and ran off.
She thanked his disappearing back and went in.
For a while she listened to the sound of his heels clicking away into the distance.
She shut the door and leaned against it. On the back wall three high, wide sash windows overlooked the dark expanse of the restless sea. The sound of the wind seemed even louder here than anywhere else in the house. In the distance, a flash of lightening lit up the sky. The low rumble of thunder. Adeline went over to shut the curtains. Rain battered the windows. A full moon threw an orange halo round itself onto scudding clouds, its reflection rippling over the inky waters. A
lthough it was dark, she couldn't help noticing it was a long way down to the heaving foam-topped waves below.
In fact, in the dim light it was as though the house practically hovered right over the edge of a precipice.
Adeline's heart pounded and she stepped backwards quickly as a wave of vertigo came over her. Once that subsided she staggered back, and took in the rest of her surroundings from a safe place over by the bed.
The room was bigger than any she had ever slept in. A four poster bed hung with red velvet drapes which smelled a little musty. Her trunk was at the end of the bed and she threw it open, taking out a clean, dark grey cotton dress to wear at supper. She changed and tidied her hair at the oak dressing table. There were several candles in sconces around the room, all of which she lit with the one she brought with her.
It seemed as if the Captain had not managed to arrange gas or electric lighting throughout the house. Understandable considering the size of the place. In some ways, it was more of a castle than a house.
Adeline placed a stack of papers and quills on a writing desk in front of the window which was next to the vanity unit. She would need to make a report on Captain Hughes' injuries after she had settled him for the night. After that, she'd write a request that her Aunt immediately search for new opportunities for Adeline's employment. The thought of that made her wince with dissatisfaction. She hated to fail at anything. Yet she had to survive. Perhaps it was best to wait until after dinner to make that decision.
Pale green wallpaper lined the room. There were several framed sketches of ships tossing in stormy seas hanging over the fireplace. Her hopes of a fire in the grate were in vain. The room was cold and the windows clattered, and strained against the gale. She put her hand over her heart as it trembled, her mind seized with the notion that she was adrift, and alone in a small ship on a vast, unfriendly ocean.
Yet this was not the time to give in to a low mood. She reminded herself of her references from the field hospital. Adeline knew her nursing skills were excellent, and it was highly unlikely that a woman such as herself would ever end up in the workhouse.
Carefully, she lifted the shock box out of her carpet bag and put it on the floor. It was made of solid wood, the size of a sewing box but heavier than one. Kneeling beside it, she opened the lid to check the delicate machinery was intact. It was a good idea to test the thing before she presented it to the Captain. To that end, she slotted the brass handle into the hole on the outside. When that was done, she fixed the wires of the hollow cylindrical metal paddles into place.
She squeezed one of the paddles in her left hand. It fitted into her palm and was cool to the touch.
Then she lifted her skirt and her under-drawers to lay the other metal cylindrical paddle on her right thigh. She cranked the brass wheel until she felt the tingling sensation of the current running in invisible rivers from her left hand to her right thigh.
The muscles of her left arm and right thigh twitched.
Adeline sighed with relief at the sensations, although she knew she'd have to crank it up until it was almost painful. She moved the dial higher until the pain was almost unbearable. This was what she would do when the Captain allowed her to use the equipment. The shock box was merely a distraction she'd decided to use to divert the patient's attention from what she was really doing. Her healing powers were frightening, otherworldly - even to her. But she was determined to use them for the good of others, and especially for the dark, and brooding Captain.
When the time came.
As the electricity flowed, she felt that other power stirring within her.
She did not know what it was or where it had come from. Only that it seemed to flow more easily during thunderstorms or as now, when she was filled with magneto-electrical currents.
Who knew what it could be? But when she felt it streaming through her and laid her hands on a sick person, they healed quicker than normal.
She had never tried to explain it, believing that in the future, scientists would have a name for it. This thing within her had to be natural, and was probably an ability within everyone. It was just that most people didn't usually find a way to access it, and she had, although for now it was inexplicable.
All she knew was that when she was in direct contact with electricity, the feeling of liquid fire stirred within her.
In her mind it was a force of nature. A strange primal essence which ran through her veins when she allowed it to. She felt it now, radiating outwards from the depths of her body. It spun through her heart, her navel, shivering down her arms, her legs, into her throat. Through her whole body. She closed her eyes and seemed to see it moving within her. A river of golden light.
And when she could see it in her mind's eye, when it was there pulsating through her body, she became more than a fallen woman of meagre means.
She became someone who could heal others. Her touch could speed the process of recovery in almost every patient she touched. In the darkened rooms of the hospital at Crimea she had brought many severely injured men back to full health. Following Florence Nightingale's lantern, Adeline had used the shock box to perform what some might say were miracles.
Miss Nightingale was the one who cautioned her to keep her gift a secret.
"No one will understand until the scientists can explain it," Miss Nightingale said. "Until then, you must never speak of it to others or try to make a drama of it. People won't understand. They might say it comes from the devil when it is just the way you were born."
"Is it a sign of wickedness? Am I a cursed witch?" the young Adeline had enquired.
"Don't be silly. You're a nurse with a special gift. That is all."
Adeline stopped winding the handle and sat back on her heels. She decided to fix her mind upon the fact that she could do it. She could do it. She was capable of healing a man with a gash in his leg, an overactive imagination, and demonic fascinations.
All she had to do was convince him to let her do the work.
Chapter 15
At last, she was ready. As ready as she could be in such a preternatural household as Raven's Nest and the situation presented within its crumbling walls. Adeline tidied away the shock box, and placed it in the trunk. She was hoping to introduce her own special version of the magneto-electric therapy as soon as she could, in order to begin her work proper.
She went over to the vanity unit and poured water from the jug into the basin. Adeline splashed water over her face, reminding herself that a good nurse could cope with any patient, however difficult he might be. She scrubbed her hands and face with a bar of Pears soap, breathing in the delicate flowery fragrance of it. Then she rubbed rosewater into her hands and brushed it through her hair before re-doing her bun.
Yet still, part of her was in turmoil. The Captain with his steady, knowing gaze unsettled her, making her feel as if he could read her mind. She had no time for stories about coming back from the dead, but whatever fatigue or trauma he had suffered in battle may well have left him cruel and detached. There was little she could do about that.
All of these musings about the man of the house had led to an uneasy fluttering just below her heart.
After ensuring she was ready to dine with the Captain, mentally as well as physically, she made her way back downstairs. Hoxley was waiting by the fireplace, his face a mask of impatience. He showed her to the dining room at the back of the house and fled.
The room was impressive, both glittering and shabby, it had an air of neglected grandeur. The crimson wallpaper was peeling in places, and strings of cobwebs hung in every corner. It seemed to run the entire length of the house with French windows leading out onto a courtyard.
A chandelier to match the one in the main hall hung over a long table, lit with what looked like a hundred candles. The reflection of many flames was repeated eerily in a huge mirror on the back wall. In the middle of the wall was an alcove in which stood a life-size marble statue of a satyr on a solid plinth. The creature held one cloven foot
up, as if he was dancing. His handsome features were carved to devilish perfection, with pointed ears, and almond eyes which appeared to wink at her as she stared at him. The musculature of his naked chest was a sign of exquisite workmanship. The rest of him was naked too, and Adeline had to glance away, aware that it was not polite to stare at the priapic swelling of such realistic art.
She turned to examine the opposite wall.
On the mantelpiece above a roaring fire, was a glass sphere resting on small velvet cushion. Above the mantel was a painting of a child, a red-headed girl of no more than five or six years old. The girl's expression was serious, almost other worldly. She had crystal blue eyes, which seemed to stare right out of the picture at Adeline. She was also in possession of the Hughes nose, and was perhaps a sibling or cousin.
"It's my mother when she was a child," the Captain said.
"She's beautiful."
Captain Hughes sat at the head of a dining table big enough to seat two dozen people. "Good evening, Miss Winslow. I hope you're not offended by my father's taste in art."
The Captain was referring of course, to the satyr.
Adeline smiled. "Certainly not."
"He was a man with a taste for mythic sculpture."
"Is there more?"
"Much more. Stored in the basement, thankfully. Take a seat."
Adeline sat opposite him at the other end of the table where a place had been laid with silver cutlery and gold trimmed crockery.
"It seems as if we have a whole room between us," she said.
He glowered at her. "Don"t you like my table?"
"I like it well enough. But I don't like having to shout during a congenial conversation at dinner."
"I'm not interested in idle chit-chat, Miss Winslow."
Adeline patted her mouth with a napkin. "In that case, the distance between us will be an asset as I endeavour to ignore your attempts to annoy me by being disagreeable."
A muscle in the Captain's face twitched, and it looked as though he fought to control the urge to throw a candlestick against the wall or even at her. "I would imagine quite a lot of men have been forced to be disagreeable to you by your insufferable air of superiority. Which is odd, since you wear such plain, and ordinary clothes."
