The Haunting of Lady Sophie

by Marly Mathews

  She had to focus on the present. The here and now was the only thing that could possibly keep her sane. And she needed Redding to take her mind off Sylvie.

  She could only keep the thick fog swirling around her for a little longer and hoped that Redding would move faster. With a cracking sound akin to lightning striking, he appeared next to her.

  “Where did you go before you came here?” she asked, studying him for some sign of foreign travel dust.

  “I followed you, sweetheart. Perhaps, I just enjoy a more leisurely pace.”

  “My foot, you enjoy a more leisurely pace,” she snorted, and stared at the elaborately designed lion’s head door knocker in front of her. She was about to use it when the door creaked open of its own accord.

  “That is a bit unusual, not to mention a little creepy,” she whispered, wariness gripping her by the throat.

  Should they venture forth, and leave before anything else happened that would set her nerves on edge?

  Howls and ear-splitting screams rent the air. “Damnation,” Redding’s face turned an angry red. “We have got to get this place contained, before the bloody police are summoned,” he said, pulling her into the house. She stumbled into the expansive entryway, and gasped in sheer shock.

  Everything in the house was upside down, from the portraits hanging on the walls to the two Ming vases that flanked the door.

  Fear flooded through her. Her limbs felt heavy from it. “What is going on, Rupert?” she asked, her voice a faint whisper.

  “It looks as if the malevolence of that bastard has infected this house. Can’t you feel it seeping through the place like a poison?”

  “We should leave now. There are others, more suited to cleaning this house of what inhabits it at the precise moment,” she said, her heart fluttering with despair.

  She couldn’t remain here. She wouldn’t allow the side of her personality she had been containing so long to emerge during this tense moment.

  He gave her a steely gaze. “Don’t bail on me, now, Sophie. I know you can do this. With your natural affinity for seeing spirits both good and evil, you were the perfect choice.”

  “Choice?” Now she really felt like reeling backward in horror. What did he mean by that? Just as she had initially suspected, there was something more to her being here. Someone had led her merrily down the garden path, and now it was too late for her to hightail it back to the forest.

  He took hold of her hand, just as she was about to turn toward the door and retreat.

  “I want to know what you mean by me being the perfect choice, Rupert. Tell me!”

  “We really don’t have the time for me to explain everything right now. Sufficed it to say you know full well the Agency has wanted to recruit you for many years now. They sent me to meet you about ten years ago, when you were just a mere slip of a girl. They wanted me to measure your potential.

  “When they approached you a few years later. They knew what kind of potential you had. Many of us can be trained to see evil spirits in some capacity. I can’t see them like you. I only see black wisps when they are around. Unlike you, we can’t train our sight to see the good ones.

  “Seeing the good ones, and understanding why they remain behind here on Earth was of interest to the Agency. If only you could remember it all. If only I hadn’t taken your memories…” He stopped short, as if he’d realized he had damned himself.

  The pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place. That was how he had found her in the maze. He had either used magic or the potential bond they shared had kicked in even back then.

  “When did you take my memories, Rupert? Why did you take my memories? You have some huge amount of explaining to do! What else don’t I recall that I should?”

  “We don’t have time to quibble over this right now, Sophie. Please let us set this house to rights, and then I shall confess everything to you.”

  Anger surged through her, and she wanted to have a good row with him, but with supernatural hell going on inside of the Mayfair mansion, they would have to put their differences aside, and attempt to make heads or tails of this situation. First off, they had to locate Lady Harding and her staff.

  “We are going to have to separate. I shall go after Lord Harding so you see if you can find Lady Harding and the rest of the inhabitants of this house,” he managed to speak calmly, and yet by the tumultuous look in his green eyes, she knew he realized his confession might have just doomed them forever.

  Had he taken from her something that would help her to actually fight what was possessing this house? So help her, if he had taken that all important knowledge from him, she would throttle the life out of him!

  He was right. There were more vital things to deal with at the moment. They had to sort things out, and they could go at each other like cats and dogs later.

  “She lives alone,” Sophie said. “She has no surviving family members so we have to locate her staff of servants,” Sophie muttered, her mind racing at such a pace, she could barely think, let alone keep track of everything that had led her to this house.

  Where should she start first?

  She doubted they would be able to find refuge in any of the rooms Lord Harding had once claimed dominion over so that left her with the servants’ area.

  She turned back to confer with Rupert, and found he had disappeared. Why he had decided to go after the malicious ghost was beyond her reasoning. She started to make her way past the mess that Lord Harding had created. And stopped as dizziness overtook her.

  Her vision went black and as it cleared, she saw Sylvie standing not four feet away from her. She looked transparent and wore a black gown. Her hair was blowing wildly around her. “I can’t keep the connection open for long, Sophie! You must help me! You must return to the Isle and find a way to…”

  She raced toward Sylvie and reached out for her. Their fingers touched, and the force of their connection taking root shook the entire house. She screamed, as she was thrown backward onto the marble flooring.

  Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. Images swam before her mind’s eye. She blinked furiously, attempting to clear her vision, and noticed that Sylvie had disappeared.

  “What do I need to find a way to do?” she cried out, close to tears. Her memories from before and leading up to Sylvie’s death returned. The pain rocked her to her very core. “Oh, Sylvie,” she muttered, “what do you need from me?”

  Her heart burned with pain. The memories of how much she loved Rupert swam back and shocked her with their intensity. Her short time spent with the MIA also returned.

  Shakily, she stood up and wobbled. She had an exorcism to attend to, after which, she would have to confront Rupert once and for all.

  It looked as if Lord Harding only decided to put some of the stuff hanging upside down in midair. A good deal of the furniture littered the floor making it seem more like a stuffed to the brim curiosity shop than a fine house in Mayfair.

  She carefully stepped over a fallen Hepplewhite hall chair, hesitantly continuing her way to the kitchen.

  The acrid stench of food that had been scorched, filled her nostrils. Someone had allowed the food on the range to burn, but had taken just enough time to extinguish the flame before they fled for parts unknown.

  Food sat out on the large preparation table that the cook used. A sponge cake was in the midst of being prepared and the raspberry jam and whipped double cream sat to the side.

  Sitting on the other side of the cake was a loaf of bread that was in the midst of being carefully sliced for the dainty cucumber sandwiches Lady Harding’s cook was famous for. A teapot of cold tea sat next to it.

  Sophie continued onward to the stairwell that would lead her to the servants’ living quarters. She walked up the narrow staircase with growing trepidation in her chest. How would she possibly combat the ghost of Lord Harding, should she come face to face with him?

  There was only one way she knew how to deal with him and that way would open up a can of worms
in her life that she wasn’t ready to face. Not now, not ever! She wanted to put that part of her life behind her even more so now knowing what the bloody Agency had allowed Rupert to do to her memories.

  She realized he had done it because he thought he was going to save her the pain, but by doing so he had robbed her of a piece of herself that she could never regain.

  “Who is out there?” She heard Lady Harding’s tentative voice coming from the top of the stairs, and stopped short at the sight that awaited her.

  She opened the door that led into the hallway that housed the women’s bedchambers. They had barricaded the top of the steps with furniture taken from their own rooms.

  Lady Harding’s head peeked out from behind a dresser.

  “Lady Sophie! Thank God. You are a sight for my sorry eyes. Come on everyone, we shall have to move the furniture aside for Lady Sophie.”

  Mingled grunts of exertion followed that announcement, and in a few minutes, they had made a space large enough for her to walk through. She couldn’t imagine why they believed that furniture would keep a ghost away from them but if it had given them a modicum of comfort, the effort must have been worth it.

  “Return to your room, Ingles. I will be there in a moment.” Sophie perused Lady Harding’s lady’s maid with interest. “I can always rely on Ingles. She has been with me for over twenty years.”

  Ingles’ stern visage told Sophie that she was not a woman to be trifled with. True to form, she held a large cross in one hand, and a Bible in the other hand.

  “I won’t leave you alone, my lady. That foul monstrosity could return and attempt to molest you again.”

  “She will be with me, safe and sound,” Sophie said, hoping her slightly wavering voice sounded reassuring enough. She wasn’t scared of what she had meet this day. She was frightened of what that confrontation would bring out in her.

  With her memories restored, she was even more of a challenge than she had been before. Lord Harding didn’t have a chance against her!

  Ingles narrowed her eyes at her, and grimaced. “Begging your pardon Lady Sophie but I doubt you know the type of person you are dealing with. Lord Harding is a horrible man cut from a diseased cloth, and now in death, he is no better than he was in life. His pestilence still haunts my poor lady. It is a cross she should not have to continue bearing.”

  “I shall be fine, Ingles, please take the other women into your room.”

  “Where are the footmen and butler?” Sophie asked, dreading the answer.

  “They were forced to leave the house this morning when my bastard of a husband gained control of Mr. Hobbs’ body. Hobbs is my butler while his wife is my housekeeper. Mrs. Hobbs is inconsolable. She believes her husband has been lost forever and shall now burn in hell along with my disgusting husband.”

  Sophie sighed, that would certainly explain why they had used the furniture as a guard against Lord Harding.

  “I thought I was rid of that wretched man. My vows only said till death do us part, Sophie. This is not to be borne! When I married him, I had no inkling of the dark soul that hid beneath his handsome and charming exterior. It was a lie! Within the first three weeks of our marriage, I went from doe-eyed innocent, to an abused woman that had seen far too much suffering—the things he used to make me do….” She started to shake uncontrollably, “I will not go back into that life filled with pain and misery. My only reprieve came when he had to leave for South America—I can’t live without pleasure and peace in my life, Sophie. I know you are young, and do not know the ways of the world, but I want to be loved and cherished, and when I make love I want it to be pleasure for me not filled with constant pain.”

  “He will never have power over you again, Lady Harding, that I can assure you. As for his spiritual presence in this house, unfortunately, you shall have to bear it, until we can find a suitable way to rid the house of his vile presence. First, we shall have to figure out how we get his spirit out of Hobbs’ body.”

  Lady Harding reached for her hand, and walked with her to Ingles’ room. “My husband never liked Ingles when he was alive, and he has even less enthusiasm for her in her death. She was the only person in the house that kept him from throttling the life out of me, and he did try sometimes when he was forcing me to do my wifely duties. Many times I would lose consciousness while he was taking me unmercifully.”

  Sophie truly didn’t want to hear about this part of Lady Harding’s life, but it seemed as if she just couldn’t help spilling her guts out to her.

  Sophie stood in the doorway of Ingles’ room. The room was small, and sparsely decorated. A large cross hung on the wall and she had one dresser and one small wardrobe that hadn’t been used to block the doorway leading to the servants’ rooms.

  On the top of her one dresser, she had a porcelain washbasin and water jug with pink roses painted on them. Despite its simplicity, it was oddly tranquil, and had a good feeling about it.

  Huddled in the corner sat the two housemaids, one scullery maid and the cook, and their eyes were wide open in frozen looks of terror. Their eyes red, and their faces blotchy from crying.

  The housekeeper sat on the only chair in the room. Her hands were folded in her lap and she had her eyes closed, so she was either sleeping or praying for the ability to go on in the face of such unimaginable circumstances.

  “What do we do now, Sophie? I trust through your extensive knowledge of all things supernatural that you will have a plan of how to deal with Vincent?”

  She chewed her lip nervously, and rested her parasol up against the wall. Rubbing her hands together, she shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. I have never come up against such an unruly and spiteful ghost. Your husband has a powerful grudge against you and he is sticking around to see to it personally that you pay. I will keep him from hurting you, but other than that, I have no vanquishing spell or anything.”

  Uneasiness welled in her gut as she spoke her falsehood. Sure she knew what to do in these kinds of events but she couldn’t bring herself to opening that part of her life—she wasn’t ready for it. How could she be when it contained such wondrous strange things?

  “He should be dragged to the bowels of hell,” the grave voice of the housekeeper, made Sophie jump.

  Lady Harding had closed the door, and now stood against it.

  “I doubt I could arrange that,” Sophie muttered, heat flooding her cheeks.

  She was thankful that she had decided to wear a top with a high collar on it, for she knew her cheeks were a bright cherry red. She would hate to see how blotchy her neck was.

  As the lies continued to pass her lips, her colouring would intensify. She had always given herself away in such a manner. Ever since she had been a young child, people could read her like an open book.

  Thankfully, none of the women in the room knew her well enough to interpret what her getting hives meant. They would just assume she was scared out of her wits, much like they were.

  She reached up and tapped the cameo brooch she wore pinned to her blouse at the hollow of her neck. Now she wished desperately that she’d worn the Ruby. Its ancient powers could have protected them all from the evil that inhabited this house—and it would have saved her from being forced into a position she didn’t want to claim.

  Her thoughts went to Rupert. Why did the house have such a deadly calm to it? Shouldn’t she be hearing some kind of a battle going on?

  A loud crash from out in the hallway caused everyone in the room to scream, save for Sophie. Some other force had invaded her body and she wondered if it was courage, along with the steely resolve to do whatever she had to do, no matter the ensuing consequences.

  She stood in front of Lady Harding. Her senses told her that someone not invited was coming up the hallway toward them. The loud crash had obviously been the furniture falling to the side.

  “Get into that corner with the rest of the women, Lady Harding,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, but as strong as steel.

  “Call
me Eden. I would love to drop my husband’s title entirely, but it does open some doors for me in the ton. I just wish I could keep that door shut. My mother used to say that some of our kind had dominion over the dead, to the point that they were actually called Soul Protectors or Soul Seers. They protected the good souls, like the ones in this room from being pursued by the blackened souls like Harding. She even said that the Queen had a Soul Protector.

  “They are kind of like our modern day police, in the fact that they made sure that those spirits who had it in them to hurt the innocent were dealt with in a most serious fashion. Maybe you’ve got that talent, my dear. You can see them after all...”

  Her face went completely white, as heavy footsteps carried to them.

  “Get behind me, now,” Sophie ordered, her skin prickling with goose bumps.

  He would be at the door in mere seconds. In the next instant, the door rattled, as he struck his fists against it. Soon, he would be trying to break in. The door had a good lock on it—but it wouldn’t take much of a push from a good burly man to break through it.

  “How big is Mr. Hobbs?”

  “My Oliver is a great hulking man,” Mrs. Hobbs said, pride glimmering in her voice.

  “Smashing,” Sophie muttered. Now what would she do? She could use her magic against him but that might serve to make the frightened women even more panicked.

  She needed her Rupert.

  Had something happened to him? She couldn’t bear the thought of him laying lifelessly somewhere. No matter how cross she was at him, she couldn’t bear if he’d been hurt.

  What if he had fallen down the marble steps of the grand main stairwell? Despite his foul actions, she still couldn’t fight the large part of her that loved him deeply. Her mind was wrenched back to the present, as the door was knocked off its hinges.

  The women screamed, as Hobbs attempted to barge into the room, he couldn’t break past the magical barrier she had erected on sheer instinct. Her mother told her when she was a child she had built magical shields if she felt frightened. It helped her to get rid of one of her mean nursemaids.

  “Ah, my lovely little creature. So we meet again. Aren’t you a lovely little porcelain doll. By the fancy dress you’ve got on, I would say your father has quite the hefty coffers—or tries to give the impression that he does. You don’t look as threatening as the one downstairs that tried to take care of me. He is rather busy at the moment, but he will no doubt break free soon, as I peg him as a clever lad.”