by Karen Joyce
“The only young maid we have working here tonight is Ruth, but I cannot even begin to imagine that she would behave that way.” She called to the butler standing against the wall and whispered something into his ear. A few minutes later, a young woman with dark hair entered the room, and approached them.
“You called for me, Madam,” she asked, nervously.
“Yes, Ruth. Have you been wearing your uniform all evening?”
“Yes, Mam. All evening, except when I went outside to empty the dirty water out of the mop bucket.”
“And what were you wearing then?”
“I was still wearing my uniform, but there is a biting wind out there tonight, so I wrapped a woollen shawl around my shoulders to keep me warm.”
“I see, and were you playing our piano earlier?”
“No, Mam. I would never do such a thing.”
“Ruth, there’s no point in lying. You know how serious this is and you’re only going to make things far worse if you don’t tell the truth.”
“But I am, Madam. I am telling you the truth.”
“Please, Lady Madeleine. There is no need for this. I can tell you now that this is not the young woman I saw.”
“Are you sure, Lincoln? You have made some very serious claims about what you saw, and Ruth is the only young woman who fits the description of the person you saw.”
“Sir, I mean no disrespect, but please, whatever you think I did, I promise I am innocent of the charge,” she pleaded with him on the verge of tears.
“This has gone on long enough. This is not the woman I saw,” he persisted again, feeling pity for this poor young maid.
“If you’re trying to protect her Lincoln, I can understand, but you must also understand that we cannot have our help taking liberties within our home.”
“I’m not trying to protect her. This is simply not the young woman I saw.” The young maid was excused and ran from the room in tears, and the young woman that Lincoln had seen wasn’t mentioned between them again.
That evening, after all the guests had left, Lady Madeleine went up to her room and laid down upon her bed where she went over every little detail of the time she had spent with Lincoln. She replayed their conversation over and over again within her mind. She remembered the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about his years travelling Europe and the New World. She remembered the heaviness in his eyes when he spoke about his father. And she thought about how much he had changed on the outside. The young boy she had known had now grown into a man. She saw his face in her memory. His rich black hair. His strong Roman nose and high cheekbones. When she thought about his full shaped lips and pearlescent blue eyes, she became flushed, and when she remembered the little shallow dimple in his masculine square jaw, she held up her hand and imagined his face was right there before her and she could reach out and touch it with her finger. How different he had become now, but on the inside she saw he was the same. She believed he still possessed that strength of character and kindness that she had never found in another. There was an integrity within him that would never waiver, no matter what temptation or foe may stand in his way. He was simply a man in every sense of the word within a women’s heart and mind. The kind of man she yearned for to round out all the qualities she lacked within herself.
II
The dinner at Montague Manor had been a suffocating affair, but the friendship that had been re-ignited between Lincoln and Lady Madeleine had made it more tolerable to endure. And when Lincoln left Montague Manor, he felt lighter to have found someone whom he could share the grief he had felt in losing his father, even if it had been so long ago because he had locked those feelings away within his heart and been carrying them around ever since. It had become like a sickness within him that had no cure. And though, she had given him some momentary relief, it was over shadowed by that other woman he had seen who was never far from his mind. He tried to forget her, but he was deeply confused by the incident, and it almost made him question his own sanity, but he had seen her. He had seen her with his own eyes, and he felt a great hunger within him that could only be satisfied by seeing her again. He had only seen her for a moment, but their meeting affected him deeply and when he received a visit from his friend, Percival Fox at his home in London, he felt compelled to confide in him of what he had seen. His friend Percival had come from a working class family, and was a successful academic who was now a lecturer of science at Oxford College.
“What troubles you, Lincoln,” asked Percival, packing his pipe with a baby’s touch, as they sat in his parlour. “You’ve been on edge all night.”
“There’s something I’m going to tell you, but I need to ask you to keep an open mind,” Lincoln replied, looking over his shoulder as if someone unseen were standing behind him.
“Something happened to me last night at Montague Manor. Something that escapes explanation or understanding, and when I think of it now, it chills me to the very core.”
“Lincoln, I’m not easily shaken but your tone, your manner, I am a frightened boy again huddled around the campfire, as the wolves howl in the night.”
“Many rumours have plagued the manor and I never gave them a second thought, but last night, last night something happened that has caused me to regard them most seriously.” Suddenly a strong wind blew through the open window, slamming the door shut and causing Percival to jump out of his skin.
“Many people have experienced things in that manor they cannot explain. They’ve seen shadows, footsteps, they’ve even heard someone crying in the night, but there is one story I heard as a child that most frightened me. There was a young governess who once lived at the manor, and on her last night in that house, they say she saw something so terrible that she left that place without so much as a word to anyone.” Lincoln rose from his seat and went to the window to close it, as if keeping some menacing foe from entering the room. “She even left without the use of a carriage.”
“You mean she left on foot? But where did she go?”
“To this day, no one knows what became of her. Some say she was mad and fell into the river and drowned, but there is another tale. One that I have not dared to speak of again, until this night. Some believe that she left because she saw something that was so terrifying she couldn’t spend one more second in that house.”
“What are you saying, Lincoln?”
“Percy, do you believe in the afterlife? A world beyond our own where lost souls are doomed to wander in an endless purgatory.”
“You don’t mean?”
“Some call it hell, but whatever it is, wherever it is, there is only a thin veil separating our world from theirs.”
“Good Lord, Lincoln, are you saying what I think you’re saying? I’ve never seen this manor, but I know the nature of them. They are often too large for the inhabitants that dwell within them. They creak and moan as they settle within the night and the way the darkness plays tricks on us, it has the hand of a magician with its tomfoolery.”
“Percy, on any other day, I would never entertain these thoughts, but what happened to me last night, I can’t explain.”
“I never took you for having such a wild imagination, Lincoln,” he said, laughing at this nonsense. “It was probably just your own shadow.”
“It was more than a shadow, Percy. It was a young woman and no one knew who she was.”
“How many guests did the Montagues entertain last night? Can you really tell me that not one of those guests was the woman you saw? For all you know she wondered in off the street and slipped into the manor unseen, that is until you saw her. Listen, I think someone’s having a little fun with you.” Speaking about what happened out loud and to someone else, made Lincoln feel foolish. What did he really see? All he saw was a woman. Just because Madeleine didn’t know who she was, it didn’t mean anything. She’s in mourning. Maybe she was confused, and the young woman could have been a guest who left the manor early. That would explain why she wasn’t at the dinner table. The more Linc
oln thought about it, the more ridiculous it all seemed, and he even began to believe that, as outlandish as it may seem, she really could have wandered in off the street, just as Percival suggested, and if she did that, she was probably mad.
“It’s been a long day, Percy. I’m going to turn in,” said Lincoln, rising and calling to his butler. “Prepare the carriage for Mr Fox.”
“You don’t need to feel embarrassed. When I think about the ghost stories you heard about that house as a child and that spooky, large manor with all those rooms and dark, narrow hallways, I can understand how you might have thought that she was some kind of ghost.”
“Thank-you for putting my mind at rest, Percival and please don’t tell anyone about this.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he winked, as he put his coat on. “It was good to see you again, my friend and I’m glad I could help you see reason,” he added, walking through the front entrance of Lincoln’s home toward the awaiting carriage.
III
It had been a whole month since Lincoln had dinner with Lady Madeleine at Montague Manor and he had returned to Maidstone, Kent to visit his mother who lived on the neighbouring estate. As he stepped out of his carriage, his mother was waiting for him outside.
“I do trust your journey was not too tiresome,” his mother asked, rushing down the front steps and kissing him upon the cheek.
“No journey is too far when my dear mother is there waiting for me at its end,” he replied, smiling affectionately.
“You are much too charming, my dear.”
“And you can’t resist my charms, can you mother?” It was true. Lincoln was the light of Lady Rinehart’s life, and all the days she spent without him were difficult to endure, but whenever she saw him again, it was always worth the wait. He made her so very happy and she hoped one day, someone would come into his life and make him feel that same happiness.
“Are Felicity and Fortescue still joining us for dinner this evening,” he asked, as they walked inside his mother’s house.
“Yes dear, and I have also taken the liberty of inviting Duchess Montague and her lovely daughter Lady Madeleine to join us,” she replied, looking up at him with hope. Lincoln ignored the suggestion in her eyes, and went upstairs to get ready.
When Lincoln heard a knock at the front door for the second time that night, he descended the stairs to see his mother with Duchess Montague and Lady Madeleine standing in the foyer.
“Welcome Duchess and Lady Madeleine,” Lincoln said, bowing down to them. They were still dressed in the colour of mourning but there was a lightness about them, as the shadow of grief had begun to fall behind them with the passing of time.
“Come everyone, Felicity and Fortescue are waiting for us to join them in the sitting room.” Lincoln watched as they moved past him, and then he extended his curved arm to Lady Madeleine. She curled her hand around his upper arm and together they followed the others into the dining room where Felicity was showing her latest needlework to Fortescue. An embroidered tapestry of a King Charles Cocker Spaniel that Lady Rinehart had displayed upon the mantelpiece.
“How precious,” remarked Duchess Montague. “Why, it calls to mind the pet I owned as a child.”
“How talented you are,” Lady Madeleine agreed, admiring Felicity’s work then turning about the room before taking a seat upon the chaise lounge beside Lincoln. She had been waiting for the right time to approach him, and now here she was, sitting by his side, but she didn’t feel in control of herself as her nerves began twisting tighter and tighter together. It was a feeling that was unfamiliar to her, for she was always so confident, but this man deeply unsettled her. There were so many things she wanted to say to him since she had last seen him. She had spent so many nights thinking about him and the words they would share, but now those very same words evaded her mind’s grasp. So, she said nothing, watching him from the corner of her eye, imagining what it would feel like if he turned to her now and placed his hand upon her own and told her how desperately he had been waiting for this moment to be with her again for being without her these past weeks had been torture.
“Lady Rinehart, what have you planned for the London Season?”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to get away, Duchess. Running this house takes up all my time, but Lincoln lives in London and he’ll be there during the season. Won’t you dear.”
“Well then, Lincoln, you must join us at the Theatre Royal at Convent Garden.”
“That’s very kind of you, Duchess,” Lincoln replied, unable to muster the required amount of enthusiasm his mother would have appreciated from him. “He would love to join you. He hasn’t stopped talking about how wonderful it was to see Lady Madeleine again.” Lady Rinehart abhorred anyone who didn’t exhibit correct etiquette, but she wasn’t beyond embarrassing herself to lend a helping hand in her son’s social affairs, especially when it included the lovely Lady Madeleine, whom she regarded as the daughter she never had.
“And I know my daughter was equally delighted,” smiled the Duchess, as if she were a co-conspirator in Lady Rinehart’s game.
“Perhaps they should spend some more time together then,” suggested Felicity, seeing them standing at an alter exchanging their vows. Ever since she had fallen in love with Fortescue she wanted everyone else to fall in love too. She couldn’t imagine a day without him, and couldn’t understand how anyone else could go on living if they were all alone in this world.
“That’s a wonderful idea, isn’t it Madeleine,” said the Duchess, clapping her hands together in glee. “Lincoln, why don’t you join us for luncheon tomorrow at our estate?” When he thought about what happened the last time he was there, the idea didn’t excite him, and he felt like it was his parent’s wish more than the wish of himself or Madeleine, but he didn’t want to offend the Duchess.
“That sounds splendid,” he replied, nodding reluctantly. “That is, if Lady Madeleine doesn’t feel it’s an intrusion.”
“No, of course she doesn’t. Do you Madeleine?”
“Not at all, mother” she blushed, barely able to look into Lincoln’s eyes. “It would be very lovely.” Everyone’s eyes were upon her now, and she felt like they could see what she was thinking. As if they knew what was in her heart. She could feel her cheeks burning, and she tried to think of anything else like Felicity’s needlework, her mother’s dog, even the drops of water against her window after the rain, anything but him coming to see her tomorrow, because those thoughts, they didn’t just burn her cheeks or quicken her heart, they shortened her breath and if she hadn’t been sitting down, she would have fainted right there on the spot.
“My dear guests and loved ones. I have a surprise for you this evening,” announced Lincoln’s mother who had left the room and returned with an elderly woman buried beneath a dark woollen shawl. “May I introduce to you, Madame Esmerelda. She is a gifted clairvoyant who has come to make contact with the spirits in the spirit world. Please, join us.” All the guests followed them into the softly-lit dining room and seated themselves at the table where candles casted ominous shadows across their faces.
“Everyone hold hands,” the clairvoyant demanded sternly with a thick Romanian accent. With hesitation everyone obeyed her command, as she began a prayer of protection. Some of the guests were fearful of what they would soon witness. Few were light-hearted and had to stifle their giggles, and there was one, Lady Madeleine whom was neither absorbed or amused by this affair, but, instead, lost to the warmth she felt within Lincoln’s hand, and she didn’t fear the spirits that might be watching them in the shadows, she was afraid for the moment when the channelling would come to an end and Lincoln would let her go.
“Spirits who have crossed over, I call on you now. Come to us,” said Madame Esmerelda, as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Do not be afraid. Come out of the shadows. Speak to us now. What message do you wish to tell us from the other side?” She lowered her head in deep meditation. The candle flames flickered viole
ntly and the dimmed lights of the chandelier turned off and on. “There is someone here,” said Madame Esmerelda, lifting her head and looking behind Duchess Montague. Everyone shifted nervously in their seats, as they looked over their shoulders afraid of what was hiding unseen in the dark.
“Lady Rinehart, you must speak to the servants about playing with the gas lighting,” laughed Fortescue.
“Can you smell that.” asked Felicity, squeezing Fortescue’s hand tighter in fear.
“It smells like Father’s cigars,” whispered Lady Madeleine, no longer feeling Lincoln’s hand upon hers, but remembering her father in his office sitting in his leather chair. Suddenly, Madame Esmerelda’s body jerked back and forth, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.
“Augusta…” Not everyone gasped in fear, but they all felt it, especially Duchess Montague as she heard her name being spoken by a man’s deep voice coming from the mouth of this woman.
“Nathaniel? Is that you, Nathaniel?
“Augusta, help me…”
“Father,” cried Lady Madeleine, her voice quivering in fear.
“Surely you’re not buying into this charade, Aunt Augusta?” asked Fortescue, offended by this shameful spectacle. Madame Esmerelda’s breathing quickened, as if she was struggling for air. Then she lunged herself over the table and tightened her hands around Fortescue’s neck.
“What’s happening? Someone do something,” screamed Felicity. “Help him!” Lincoln ran over and pulled at Madame Esmerelda’s wrists, but she was too strong. “For goodness sake, turn on the lights,” he yelled. In the light, they all saw Lincoln had pulled Madame Esmerelda’s hands from her neck, and Lady Rinehart was consoling her. “I do apologise,” she whispered, looking at her guests with shame for putting them through this frightening episode.
“I must leave,” Madame Esmerelda said, rushing out of the room like she was being chased by the Duke of Montague’s ghost. Lincoln hurried after her and walked her outside.
