Cryptic

by DA Chaney

  Esther braced her back against the wall of the staircase and descended step by step. The beautiful and elaborate paintings that hung on the staircase were thankfully hung higher than her head so she wasn’t hitting any of them as she went along. Richard had spent a small fortune on them and wouldn’t take kindly to them being damaged. Not by anyone.

  She was gripping the candleholder against her chest, listening for any sound when her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Pushing herself ramrod straight against the wall, she reminded herself that she was the Lady of the house and her fear, while warranted, could not get in the way of her objective. She wasn’t sure what she’d find when she reached the main hallway but whatever it was, she’d handle it. There was no other way.

  Esther took her time, but finally reached the bottom of the staircase. Light from the windows around the door poured in casting a warm hue around the room. Fine tapestries and elegant portraits lined the walls in a pleasant arrangement. It was a beautiful room in which she often marveled when she saw it. It held a welcome there that wasn’t matched from the staff but when she’d first arrived, it had felt like home. Too bad the overall feeling had been short lived.

  Esther peered around the polished stone floor noting that several miniature statues had been knocked from their perches and had broken into many pieces on the floor. For a moment, she felt a burst of anger in her chest seeing them scattered like that all over the entryway and she opened her mouth to call for a maid. Then, she remembered the situation and closed her mouth noting that the ones that hadn’t been merely knocked off their stands, in broken heaps, might have been thrown instead. To ward off an attacker? Esther thought of the way Richard had leapt out from the darkness and maybe if she’d been holding something, maybe she would have thrown it too.

  Feeling her temper dissipate she stepped off the last stair. There were four doorways off the main entryway. Easily recognizable as the ‘heart’ of the house. The opening that she wanted was on the left side, but a trail of blood on the floor drew her gaze towards the study on the right, where a body in a dress was laying face down just beyond the open doorway. The shoes were highly worn and the skirt was bunched around a pair of stocking clad knees, having fluttered there when she’d fallen.

  Appalled, Esther stepped back against the wall to add some distance between them. It was hard to tell with her face down, but she was had an impression the girl had been one of the younger maids being trained for higher services within the household. Esther squinted and tried to remember what her name might have been out of morbid curiosity. Lacy...Lissa...or maybe Lily? No, it wasn’t any of those. Something starting with an “L” though. As she stared at the body, it didn’t occur to her to go over to see if the girl was all right but it was hard not to stare, all the same.

  With nothing that she could do since the girl was obviously beyond her help, Esther opened the door to the kitchen and marched through, then blinked at the destruction that greeted her. There’d been quite a fight in here, she thought, moving forward and staring at the widespread mess. Bags of cooking supplies were open and spilling onto the ground with large gashes in their portly sides. Pots looked as if they’d been weapons or metal missiles as they littered the area. Fruit, vegetables, and even chunks of raw meat were strewn around and squished against the floor as if a stew had exploded and a herd of cattle had run through the area flattening everything. Not cattle. Shoes. Human shoes. The staff had been running for their lives.

  If it weren’t for the smudged bloody handprints, red dragging smear marks, and splatters of blood covering the surfaces, she could have thought a gigantic food fight had taken place instead. Shaking her head at the colossal waste of resources, Esther rushed forward to begin collecting up undamaged food. Fruits and raw vegetables came first. The meats she’d have to leave behind because there was no way to cook them, even if she wanted to.

  When it became clear that her arms couldn’t hold enough items, she crossed and tipped over a bag of unopened grain onto the floor, emptying it amidst the other unusable food. Stepping around the new mess, she deposited her armload and then she ducked and weaved around the room, gathering everything she could and piling it into the bag gently.

  Esther was bent over to grab a loaf of bread when she heard a noise behind her. Bread loaf forgotten, she turned to see where it had come from and she was surprised to see the fallen “L” girl leaning against the doorway.

  Like Molly, the girl’s throat had been torn out. Large, pink, fleshy, loose flaps of skin had been peeled away exposing a red and black looking mess. Chunks of her neck were completely missing and the damage trailed down the front of her gown, along with much of her face. Dried blood smeared her skin like war paint in places where it still showed and her loose hair was matted in a tangled mess of frizz as if her head had been rubbed repeatedly against a wool rug. One eyeball was missing, looking as if it might have been popped somewhere along the attack. A thick white eggy looking mess combined with blood hung down around her cheek.

  The girl’s nose was gone, leaving a gaping black hole in the center of her face, as well as most of the flesh from her lips. The girl raised a badly bitten bare arm. The circular bite wounds had called blood to the surface of her skin, each one punctuating the horror of her attack. She’d been held down and bitten into, some abrasions obviously more successful in damaging her than others. She dropped her arm, moaned and staggered forward wobbling on unsteady legs.

  Esther’s mind reeled in that moment.

  If she turned away from this girl who needed help, which she desperately wanted to do, would God forgive her for such an act? Helping was the last thing that she wanted to do but her mind could not fathom how else the girl could be walking if she were not alive and in need of help. She took a tentative step forward and then stopped. Esther stooped to retrieve the food bag from the floor in a classic this is mine gesture and placed it closer, to further lay claim to the contents. She wasn’t about to share with a servant. There was plenty of other food spread around the room that was likely that the girl knew how to cook, unlike Esther herself.

  As the girl got closer the sight of her made Esther want to take her bag and run away but she steeled herself. The girl was a victim, not an ill madman the way her husband had been. No matter how Esther had been treated, a Lady didn’t shirk her responsibilities. Food bag aside, it was her duty to Richard to be strong in his absence. Esther frowned as she saw someone else move into the doorway just beyond the girl’s shoulder.

  Garrity was an elderly footman and had been with them shortly after her marriage to Richard, after the previous footman had passed away. Richard had located him while he attended a meeting with another prominent family and had outright purchased the man’s services rather than promote a new footman within his own household. Something about the man had grabbed Richard’s attention. Garrity was perhaps the only one in Richard’s employ that wasn’t brutally indifferent to her. Oh, he wasn’t overly nice to her either, as that might imply something wholly inappropriate, but occasionally he would smile in her direction and say a kind word here and there—like a distant grandfather might.

  It was clear that he’d been attacked as well. His face was bloody and gnawed upon, tufts of grey hair bunched at the top of his head and as he shuffled closer, it looked as if some of his teeth had been knocked out. His clothes were dirty and torn, coat hanging in tatters from his shoulders. He reached a hand out toward her from his position and she was revolted to see that several fingers on his hand were missing, congealed bloody stumps waving at her like fat sausages as he grabbed air. Then, he growled at her like a mutt.

  Esther stepped carefully backwards, puzzled at his behavior. When he broke into a sprint, he knocked the struggling “L” girl aside and lurched at Esther. Dismayed, Esther slapped his outstretched hands away before he managed to grab her and she looked around frantically for the candleholder. She’d put it down next to her when it got in the way of picking up the scattered food. Grabbing at
it from the counter, she gulped and swung it striking only air at first. “Stay back! I’ll club you with this if I have to.” She managed to keep her internal panic out of her tone.

  He grabbed at her again, his stubby fingers brushing her arm. Esther sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, and she swung as hard as she was able to at his outstretched hand, knocking it away. He growled at her, reaching with the other arm. “I mean it! Stop this at once!”

  The thick base of the candleholder caught him on the side of the head this time and he staggered back and fell onto his backside, subsequently making the girl who’d gotten closer behind him, trip. The girl fell over Garrity’s legs and she lashed out, catching the hem of Esther’s makeshift dress and began pulling on the material. Esther kicked at the girl but Esther didn’t have much force in the kick and the scamp wouldn’t let go of the hem. As Esther struggled to stay on her feet, she swung the candleholder with more controlled motions trying to make a connection.

  Garrity began to rise from his position, tossing the girl off him; but he also managed to push her a little bit closer to Esther. Shouting in panic, Esther struck low, managing to hit Garrity as the candleholder passed him. She lost her grip and it flew heavily across the room and bounced off the large cooking pot making a loud noise. Esther gapped at her misfortune, her gaze immediately going to the two staff members. Momentarily distracted by the noise, the two wounded staff members stared at where the sound had come from.

  Taking the opportunity, Esther grabbed at the sack of food and began backpedaling away from the both of them. She dragged the distracted girl, who was still holding onto her sheet dress, across the floor with her. Twirling, Esther saw that Garrity had begun to dismiss the noise of the candleholder and was stumbling closer. She tore at the sash of the dress with her fingers, working quickly to untie it. It came off easily and the girl fell back with an armful of the sheet.

  Esther jumped backwards scanning for the door to the stables, leaped toward it, and pulled the door open with her free hand. Trembling, she turned and re-enacted her escape with Richard by slamming the door closed before Garrity could get to her. Spinning, she looked around her and almost screamed when she saw four stable boys surrounding a dead horse. They were pulling at the animal’s innards and shoving handfuls into their mouths. She swallowed back the sound and was glad that she hadn’t given into hysteria. Esther stepped quickly away from the door while the boys were distracted. A raunchy smell was in the air and she had a sinking feeling that she now knew what the combination of horse feces and blood smelled like.

  Feeling dizzy, Esther skirted past them as she heard the door being struck behind her. She picked up speed and began to run openly through the stables feeling fatigued even with the minimal effort. She sailed past a mostly naked maid who for all appearances had been in the process of a sexual encounter when she’d been killed. Esther’s boots struck loud against the stable floor as she ran through blood and straw.

  Reaching the courtyard of the estate she noted deep gouges in the ground, straw littered in frenzied directions, and random strips of cloth strewn around. She had no time to dwell on the unkempt mess and though the disorder nipped at her mind she was more interested in getting back to safety. She winced at the feeling in her feet. They were stinging because her boots had not been made for running of any kind and the pinching along the sides were beginning to cause blisters. With the sounds of being chased echoing behind her, Esther pushed aside the discomfort and dashed toward the manor. She skidded to stop at the stairs that led up to the main entryway. Quickly, she unlaced her boots and slipped them off so that she could run faster and, she hoped, be quieter on the stone when she got back inside. Food bag slung over her shoulder, her boots crushed against her chest, she pushed the door open. Nothing greeted her, to which she felt some degree of relief. Esther glanced left and right before darting toward the steps leaving the door wide open.

  The threat behind her, out in the courtyard now by the sounds of it, she moved as fast as she could. She took two steps to a time despite her fatigue, trying to break get beyond their eyesight so that maybe they wouldn’t follow her to the bedroom door that she was hiding in. It was possible to choose another bedroom, but she couldn’t be sure that all rooms were free of these...whatever they were. She knew the one she’d left had been clear of them and it was the one she wanted to get back to.

  It hadn’t been a clean trip, but she had chanced it anyway and for the most part had won a new victory to be proud of. Maybe she could take care of herself after all. So, she’d lost the candleholder and her makeshift dress...now she had food. It would have to be enough for now.

  8

  Rain had a way of making things more miserable. It dripped, splashed, and made everything dreary. Ed observed it all; from the carriage wheels splashing through the deep puddles, to the heavy sound striking the leaves around them. The first and likely the last, carriage ride that she had the lucky fortune to ride in and all the bloody wet stuff did was pound against the rooftop without stopping. Sometimes, drops angled inside the large window peppering her face when she managed to drift off, jerking her awake. What should have been the most privileged experience of her life was nothing more than all the crappy moments in her life; grueling and tiresome. She wondered why she should feel so disappointed with that. Expecting more out of her life often led to heartache anyway. She should be used to that idea by now.

  The time passed slowly leaving Ed little else to do but keep replaying the events of the last days wishing things had gone differently. She hoped that she was making the right choice. If she had to walk back to town tomorrow because Brock decided his gig was well and good without her, it would take twice as long to regret and then take back her current choice. She could hardly expect a carriage ride to return her to town, which meant she’d be walking back with or without Brock and it’d still likely be bloody raining.

  She could just imagine the look on Brock’s face when she showed up, which is what kept her going. Well, the look on his face and her money. Her back up plan was to find out if she could stay on for some odd jobs and earn some pay before she moved on. She couldn’t assume Brock had the money or that he’d be glad to see her. Of course, she didn’t really blame him for having moved on, but he still owed her share of the haul. Whether he’d see it that way or not, only the future could tell.

  A loud jarring snort from the other side of the carriage attracted her attention and she shifted her gaze in Swicker’s direction and glowered. He was still asleep and had been since they’d left Lock’s Landing. She envied that he had taken so many carriage rides in his life that he had figured out a way to actually get some sleep in one. To her, it seemed an impossible thing to do.

  Bitter and exhausted Ed turned to face the window again, praying they’d get to their destination soon or that the rain would stop. She actually started to worry that she’d go mad and truly pitch herself from the moving torture device on wheels. Before, the idea had been amusing. Not so much anymore.

  When they pulled up in front of the dark manor hours later it was still dark. The weather had not improved, therefore Ed had not slept. It wasn’t lost on her that she’d slept for four days prior to the current damnable day she’d had today, but currently she felt like she hadn’t slept in a week. Peering through miserably bleary, bloodshot eyes she took in the exterior of the imposing structure and made a face. Grasping the edge of the window she pulled herself forward scanning the darkness. Rain fell on her face as she stared. It didn’t feel right. It certainly didn’t look right.

  There were no lamps lit, only the ones that the driver had lit for their passage. The courtyard looked as if someone had strewn hay all over the ground and the front door to the manor was wide open.; beyond that held nothing but pitch-darkness. For a reason that she couldn’t explain, the image gave her chills. She’d have expected a Lord’s estate to be much safer looking than this. Swicker had said there were animal attacks on the land. What kind of animals exactly, and ha
d they gotten into the manor? Ed began to think coming here was a huge mistake, Brock or not, and she moved from the window and started to shift toward the exit. Maybe if she slunk away now it would be worth leaving anything Brock might have behind. Ed wasn’t a hero. If animals were attacking people and they’d massacred the estate, she didn’t want to be here when daylight hit the courtyard.

  Swicker must have felt the shift in the carriage when she moved because his eyes shot open and he stared at her in confusion. He cleared his throat peering at her as if he was either surprised Ed was still there or couldn’t remember who she was.

  Instead of feeling embarrassed at having been caught sneaking away, she felt her annoyance at him creep back and crossed her arms over her flattened chest and produced a dirty look. She would have loved to punch the rested smile off his face. How dare he have the gall to look so totally rested after such a crap ride?

  “Did you get any sleep?” Swicker asked, straightening in his seat and smoothing down his clothing.

  “Does a Lady shit in the woods?” Ed snapped. If she didn’t feel like there were mud patties in her eyes, she might have worded it differently, but it was too late to take it back.

  Swicker blinked at her vulgarity and then seemed to consider her question. He barked a shout of laughter that echoed off the carriage walls and the sound mocked her. “You have spunk, kid. Better watch that around the estate, though. Not many people are used to spunk around here. To answer your question and acknowledge your answer, I suppose, that means ‘no’.” He had the decency to look apologetic. “I’ve had many years of practice sleeping in a carriage and have been away from the estate a few days traveling, so I suppose that has allowed me some tolerance of the means travel. I hadn’t given it any thought that you wouldn’t be used to it or I would have tried to stay awake.”