by Amy Cross
“Something else is in the house with us!” Jonathan continues, his voice filled with terror. “It was moving from room to room! I thought it was going to come in here and do me grave damage, but you came up just in time to stop it.”
I turn to him and see the fear on his face.
Reaching down, he takes hold of the bed sheets and begins to pull them up, as if he means to use them to shield himself from some terrible creature.
“We should go somewhere else,” I say finally. “I shall arrange for -”
“No!”
“No?”
“And run like fools from our own home?”
“You yourself acknowledge now that something is here,” I point out, struggling to contain my frustration. I had thought we had turned a corner. “You cannot possibly condone letting Milly remain in this place.”
“This is my family estate!”
“It is dangerous.”
“Lannisters have lived here for -”
“This house is haunted, Jonathan!” I snap, unable to hold back for even a moment longer. “Something in this house is trying to harm our child. Does that not concern you?”
I wait, but he does not immediately respond.
“I do not mean that we must leave and never come back,” I continue, “but rather that we should seek guidance. A priest, perhaps, might know what to do.”
“I cannot drag my family's name through the mud.”
“There is something here, Jonathan!”
He shakes his head, as if he means to deny even that which he previously acknowledged.
“Perhaps you should rise from your bed,” I tell him. “Get some air.”
“Later.”
“It might make you feel more -”
“Later, woman!” he yells. “Why do you trouble me so? Why won't you just leave me alone?”
With that, he pulls the sheets entirely over his head, leaving me staring at a most pathetic sight. I open my mouth to try reasoning with him some more, but then I merely sigh and head to the open doorway. I stop and glance back at him, and I cannot help but feel a pang of shock at the sight of this grown man shivering under his bed sheets. I have long hoped that Jonathan would see the truth about this house, but I did so in the belief that – once enlightened – he would take action. Now I see that this was a forlorn hope, and that he has instead crumpled in the face of whatever force shares this space with us.
Which means, in turn, that I really have only one option.
III
“Father Parker,” I say as I step back, gesturing for the priest to enter the house, “I am so glad that you were able to come out here at such short notice.”
“Mrs. Lannister, your husband has always given generously to our causes,” he replies, making his way into the hallway. “I am forever at your service. Is your husband not home?”
“He is resting,” I explain as I shut the door. “Father, this is a most delicate matter. I hardly know where to begin, and I beg your forgiveness for involving you. I feel as if -”
“All is fine, my child,” he replies, interrupting me. “You make speak freely.”
I take a deep breath as I try to work out how to explain.
“Father,” I say finally, “I would not have sent for you, were this not a grave matter. For the truth is, my family and I are not alone in this house. We are joined, I am certain, by some form of spirit.”
***
“It has been many years since I was out here at Lannister Hall,” Father Parker says as he walks slowly, calmly into the dining room. “Such a lovely house indeed, and so little changed in the intervening years. I must admit, it is good to see a house that has not been terribly butchered in the name of modern living.”
He stops and looks around.
“Yes,” he continues, “it is most pleasing to be here. Most pleasing indeed.”
“Do you sense it?”
He turns to me.
“Do you feel it nearby?” I ask, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. “You must, Father. You simply must.”
“I feel a sense of great magnificence,” he replies. “A sense of history. A sense of pride.”
“There is something here,” I tell him.
“So you keep telling me.”
“An evil.”
“That is not a word to be used lightly.”
“And I do not do so.” I take a step toward him. “Our daughter Millicent has been harmed by this thing. My husband has seen it too, as have I. There is something here, Father, and it means us harm.” I wait, but he is merely staring at me, as if he is studying my features.
As if, I confess, he is trying to determine whether or not I am quite mad.
“It has taken many forms,” I continue. “A grinning man, for example. Oh, I know it all sounds quite horrible, but I fear something demonic has entered our home.” I instinctively make the sign of the cross against my chest, and at the same time I can feel tears welling in my eyes. “I do not know what wickedness we have perpetrated, to invite this thing to Lannister Hall, but I pray nightly for guidance. Father, please, I am begging you to help us.”
He stares at me for a moment longer, and then he turns to once more look around the room.
How can he not sense it?
How can this man of God not feel the evil that dwells in this place?
“Has there always been a fireplace over there?” he asks finally, pointing toward the far wall. “I do not remember if -”
“Can you bless the house at least?” I ask, cutting him off. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but perhaps a blessing would do something to help us?”
He turns to me again.
“My child,” he says calmly, “I can do that, of course, and I shall be happy to bless each and every room. But if you thought I could walk in here and immediately sense some great evil, then I have to tell you that I cannot. I feel nothing other than peace and goodwill here at Lannister Hall. And as for the strange events you mentioned in your letter to me -”
“They all happened!” I say earnestly. “You must believe me!”
“Strange sounds in the night? Horrific visions?”
“It's all true!”
“I have heard more convincing stories from the mouths of babes, Mrs. Lannister,” he replies. “Just because I am a man of God, do not mistake me for one who is easily fooled by such stories. There are terrible spirits in the world, that much is true. But the idea that they spend their time in houses such as this, tormenting – and please do not take offense here – but tormenting weak-minded and impressionable women, as well as children... You cannot possibly expect me to believe such claims.”
“Father Parker,” I reply, taking another step toward him, “you must listen to me.”
“This pantomime must stop,” he adds. “There is nothing untoward here, Mrs. Lannister, and if there were I would surely -”
Suddenly he hesitates, and I see that he is looking past me, as if something over my shoulder has caught his attention. I begin to turn, and in that moment I too sense a presence.
“Jonathan!”
Gasping, I see my husband standing behind me.
“Father Parker,” he says, with a hint of irritation in his voice, “I thought I heard my wife talking to someone. You must forgive me, I was upstairs.” He steps past me and shakes the priest's hand. As he does so, he casts me an angry glance. “I was not told that we were to receive visitors today.”
“Your wife asked me to come and offer some guidance,” Father Parker replies.
“On what matter?”
“On a matter of...” For a moment, Father Parker seems reluctant to explain. “On a matter of a spirit,” he continues finally. “A spirit in the house.”
“I see.” The anger is positively dripping from Jonathan's tone as he says those words. “Well, I can assure you that there is no such thing here at Lannister Hall.”
“Jonathan,” I stammer, “I -”
“Catherine, that will be all,”
he adds curtly, not even turning to look at me now. “Tell me, Father, would you care to join me in the study for a drink? I would very much like to hear your opinion on a number of local matters.”
“That is very generous of you,” Father Parker says, and they are already heading off together, leaving me behind. “I must say, I have been thinking I should come out this way. I do so like to keep in touch with the lives of everyone in the locality.”
I step forward, meaning to join them.
“You will go and see to Millicent,” Jonathan says, glancing at me and – with his glare – stopping me in my tracks. “You and I shall talk about this matter later.”
With that, he leads Father Parker away, and a moment later I hear the two men laughing. It is quite evident that they are not discussing the evil that resides here at Lannister Hall, and I suppose Father Parker's visit is now unlikely to yield the results that I desired. I simply do not understand how he cannot sense the evil in this house. Does not the Lord guide him to seek out and counter such forces?
Are we to be left quite alone in this battle?
IV
“I do not understand how you could be so stupid!”
Before I have a chance to respond, Jonathan strikes me again, this time hitting the side of my face. I step back, stung by the pain, and then my knees fail me and I drop down sobbing to the floor.
“Do you understand how embarrassing that was?” he continues. “Father Parker is a fine man, but he is connected to everyone who is everyone in this county. Why, by tonight the whole of society will be talking about Lannister Hall, and about how I am undercut by a pathetic and foolish wife.”
“That was not my intention!” I whimper. “I merely wanted help!”
“Gossip!” he sneers. “That's what it'll be! People will be gossiping about us for months to come!”
He turns and stomps over to the fireplace, where he stops for a moment to stare into the flames. I watch him through tear-filled eyes, and I see the light dancing across his features as he contemplates the fire. It is evident that his thoughts tonight are deep, and that I have upset him greatly.
“I thought he could rid us of this thing,” I say finally. “Even you know it to be here, Jonathan. Either we leave, or we make it leave. We cannot carry on as we are!”
I wait, but he says nothing.
“So what is it to be?” I continue, as I start crawling toward him on my knees, hoping against hope that he will relent and begin to understand. “Even if you will not leave, at least allow me to take Milly to my sister's house for a while, so that she can be safe. Whatever else you think is happening here, you must acknowledge that Milly is suffering.”
“And allow the world to see her imperfection?”
“It is just a small -”
“It is a sign of inadequacy!” he snaps. “It is a sign that she is not good enough!”
“She is our daughter!” I say angrily.
“She is unworthy of the name Lannister!”
“How dare you?” I snap, getting to my feet. “She is the finest daughter anyone could ever hope for!”
“She is imperfect,” he replies, “and she gets that from your side of the family. I would be ashamed for anyone to see her.”
“And is that why you never let her leave the estate?” I ask. “Because you are ashamed of her? Why, Jonathan, you should be proud to have such a wonderful child! If anyone should be ashamed in this house, perhaps it is I for tolerating such a -”
Before I can finish, he slaps me hard about the face. I gasp and take a step back, and for a moment I swear I feel my blood boiling with rage.
“Go to the child,” Jonathan says after a moment, “and see to it that she is content for the afternoon.”
“But if -”
“And then I shall determine what we must do next,” he adds. “I shall be quick with my decision.” He stares at me for a moment, as if he truly hates me. “Would that you were more understanding, woman,” he adds finally. “You have surprised me in your intransigence and in your disobedience. That being the case, I assure you that I shall expedite matters now. You need worry no longer. Within twenty-four hours, this situation shall be resolved one way or the other.”
***
“Does Father hate me?”
“No!” I say firmly, as I continue brushing Milly's hair in the garden. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“He seems so angry all the time,” she replies, “and when he looks at me, it's with disdain. Does he hate me because of my leg?”
“No, Milly,” I reply, with tears in my eyes, “never think such a thing.”
“I would understand if he did,” she says meekly. “He is a proud man, and our family is proud too. Perhaps I am not worthy of the name Lannister.”
I continue to brush her hair, but in truth my heart is breaking. This fine, intelligent, kind girl is being torn to pieces by Jonathan's actions toward her, and I even suspect that she might have heard a little of our earlier conversation. She would never admit as much, of course, for she is too honest to admit that she eavesdropped; but did she hear Jonathan dismiss her as an embarrassment? And, in that case, did I defend her with sufficient strength?
“You look so sad,” she says suddenly.
I look at the back of the head, and it takes a moment before I realize that she can see my face reflected in a mirror that rests on a nearby table. I force a smile, trying to act as if nothing is wrong, but I instantly see that the smile looks weak and unconvincing. I shift my position a little, so that I can no longer be seen, and I immediately set back to work on Milly's hair.
“We're all ghosts,” she says suddenly. “Until we die.”
I stop brushing her hair, and I once more look down at the back of her head.
“What did you say?” I ask.
She looks up at me.
“Nothing,” she replies, “just... I saw it in your face just now. You looked like so many different people at once. Happy. Sad. Young. Old. It was like I could see all the different versions of you from your life.” She stares at me for a moment. “I suppose, in that way, we carry ghosts of ourselves around with us. We are ghosts, and then we die. And after that... I don't know if there's really anything more.”
“Well, I...”
For a moment, I am truly not sure what to say. Milly suddenly seems to be speaking with the authority of someone twice her age, thrice even, and I am rather taken aback. Then again, even at her young age she has no doubt been given ample reason to ponder on the nature of ghosts, and I suppose it is only natural that this intelligent child has come up with her own thoughts.
“I'm sorry,” she says, turning away again, “I didn't mean to say foolish things. Please, go on with my hair, so that it looks pretty.”
“Of course,” I stammer, although I confess that I am still somewhat shaken as I resume my work. “You do say some very strange things sometimes, Milly.” I glance at the mirror again, to check that she cannot see the sadness on my face. “Indeed, I wonder whether -”
Suddenly I freeze, as I see the most terrible, weathered face reflected in the mirror, staring straight at me. I watch the face for a moment, overcome by its terrible scowl and sense of pure evil, and then I drop the brush and turn to look over my shoulder.
I see only the green and pleasant lawn.
It takes a moment before I am able to determine where the figure must have been standing, in order for me to see its reflection. I get to my feet and look over at the old swing, but the figure is gone. Still, its awful gray face is now etched into my mind, and I am struck after a moment by the realization that the face was smiling.
Grinning.
Just like the creature that Milly and Jonathan both claim to have seen.
“Mother?” Milly asks cautiously after a moment. “Is everything alright?”
“Quite, darling,” I reply, although I confess that my heart is racing as I look back down at her. “I am done with your hair for today, and I have something to whic
h I must attend. Why don't you go and play while I...”
My voice trails off for a moment.
“While I fix a few things in the house,” I add finally. “Go, Milly. Play.”
V
Hurrying into the dressing room, I lean down and peer into the mirror on the table. At first I see only my own fearful face staring back, but then I look at the reflection of the doorway and I wait in case some terrible figure appears.
Once I am sure that the gray face is absent, I take the mirror and hurry out of the room, carrying it swiftly into the pantry and then through to the storage room, when I finally set it down next to all the others.
There.
I am done.
I have spent the past half hour collecting every mirror from every room in Lannister Hall, and now they are all gathered together here. I know I am most likely jumping the gun a little, but the sight of that wretched face was too much for me to handle, and I feel a terrible compulsion to make sure that Milly cannot possibly witness the same thing. She has seen the face already, of course, but perhaps it is most visible in mirrors. In which case, I have hidden them all away.
Stepping back, I stare at the mirrors for a moment longer, and then I pull the door shut and turn the key in the lock. My hands are trembling, but I know I have done the right thing. Of course, Jonathan will surely notice the lack of mirrors before too long, and I am not sure how I shall explain my actions. Still, if I have made Milly even slightly safer, then I have most assuredly done the right thing.
“Praise be to thee, Lord,” I whisper, hoping against hope that the Lord might hear me and answer my prayers. “Deliver us from the evil that has seen fit to take root in our -”
Suddenly there is a loud bumping sound nearby, and I turn to look along the corridor. The bumping sound continues for a few more seconds, as if somebody is throwing things around in one of the other rooms, and then silence falls once more.
I wait, frozen in place, not daring to move.
“Praise be to thee, Lord,” I continue finally, “and -”
