The North Sea House: a gothic romance

by Camille Oster

  "And other things."

  What other things she didn't dare guess. "I take it your estate is not as isolated."

  "Any large piece of land is isolated if one wishes it to be."

  "Yes, perhaps you are right."

  There was something uncomfortable about talking with him. He didn't have that easy nature that some others did. Lewis' words from last night returned to her, how Brynnell had returned a different man from the war.

  No, he was not an easy man to converse with and she was about to bid him good morning when Mrs. Dartmoor entered the room. "The house is quite large, isn't it?" She moved closer, almost guardedly as if she wasn't sure she was welcome. "I must admit, the sea does terrify me somewhat."

  "Why?" Brynnell asked.

  "Oh, I don't know," she said with a smile. "Perhaps because it is simply untamable."

  Brynnell didn't reply, only took another drag of his cheroot. "In reality, there is very little we have control over in this world. Not even each other."

  "I believe we receive in return the influence and energy we put out into the world." Seems Mrs. Dartmoor didn't find him easy to speak with either.

  "As you say," he replied, effectively ending the conversation.

  "Shall I ring for some tea?" Vivienne asked Mrs. Dartmoor.

  "Yes, would you care to join us, Lord Routledge?"

  "While I appreciate the invitation, I will decline. I am going to brave the weather and go for a walk."

  "Very brave," Vivienne concluded. Clearly he didn't mind the wild wind and the churning sea. "Perhaps we'll take the tea in the parlor?" With more windows, the parlor was brighter.

  "Excellent suggestion, Miss Harcourt. Brightness always chases the dark away," Mrs. Dartmoor said and went to pull the cord that called Jenkins.

  Brynnell rose to leave, giving another quick bow to them before disappearing out the door.

  "A peculiar man," Mrs. Dartmoor said. "Do you know him well?"

  "No, I cannot say that I do. My brother does, I believe. They all went to university together."

  "Ah, of course. Such friendships can last, I understand. Some don’t. We don’t know quite who we are when we are young, do we? Some things in a person never changes, but our experiences leave indelible marks both with the people around us and the space we inhabit."

  "Yes, of course. Do you have a brother?"

  "No, I was an only child."

  Jenkins appeared and they directed him to serve tea in the parlor.

  "He seems a nice man," Mrs. Dartmoor said.

  "Lord Routledge?" Vivienne wasn't sure nice was the word she would use for him.

  "Your brother."

  "Oh, yes, John. He is."

  "You are lucky to have such a brother."

  They walked together into the parlor and sat down at one of the seating arrangements where they could see out the window. Before long, Lord Routledge appeared outside, wearing a gray, long jacket. He was hatless, which was probably necessary in such wind.

  "I hope he doesn't catch his death," Mrs. Dartmoor said.

  "Seems to have a strong constitution." Clearly liked walks, because she'd seen him on a few, always alone. Seemed he needed his solitude at times too.

  Lewis implied he didn't much like women. It wasn't as if he'd been uncordial in any way, but he seemed to challenge statements. Vivienne couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something contrary about him.

  "Did you know the woman who lived here?"

  The question tore Vivienne away from her thoughts. "No, I never met her. I don't even think Archie, I mean Mr. Percival, knew her all that well."

  "He seems very good-natured."

  "I believe so," Vivienne answered, looking up as a woman Vivienne had never seen before was bringing the tea service. She wore a large apron and a mobcap.

  "Mr. Jenkins was called away. I am Mrs. Sims," she said, her accent seemingly of the region.

  "Miss Harcourt," Vivienne returned. "And Mrs. Dartmoor."

  "That's my Clive," she said nodding with her head to the window. A young man was outside, carrying some kind of sack. "Mostly is it just myself, Mr. Jenkins and Clive here. Has been for a while now since Miss Trubright passed."

  "You were employed by Miss Trubright," Vivienne stated.

  "That's right. Served her for years. Not enough of us for such a large party of visitors, true enough. I must get back. This house likes solitude, it always has."

  With her cargo delivered, Mrs. Sims was gone.

  "Funny how she referred to the house liking solitude and not the people in it," Mrs. Dartmoor said.

  "Well, that is not really true anymore. Archie despises solitude." There were clearly not enough people to manage the house, but she supposed it was hard to find people out here. "There is a maid too. We saw her serve supper last night."

  "Might be a day employee that lives somewhere nearby."

  There was nowhere nearby. The girl would have to come for miles to get here, and then return after dark, but Mrs. Sims had clearly said there were only three of them.

  Again, the son, Clive walked past outside. Looked to be in his late teens or early twenties.

  "It must be a readjustment for them having a party of young people after so many years catering to an elderly woman," Mrs. Dartmoor said. "Such a different energy, and a substantial change for them. And it really is too large a house to be run by three people."

  That was proven true by the many rooms uncared for. And that was only the ones she had seen. Her exploration had only sought the rooms next to the main hall. Archie would have to determine the appropriate staffing levels, but then she suspected that Archie would probably spend most of his time in London. It was difficult to see him spending any large amounts of time out here. It simply didn't suit his character, or his enjoyment at having people around.

  In the distance, she saw the figure of Lord Routledge. This place suited someone like him better. Distant and solitary, but then he was included in this party—although she suspected that was Lewis and Archie's doing more than Brynnell's.

  A gust of wind hammered on the window panes, startling Vivienne for a moment. It really felt as if it was beating on the house, trying to get to them. And out there was Lord Routledge, braving the weather simply to be away from them.

  Chapter 7

  SOMETHING WAS BEHIND her. She couldn't hear it or see it, but she knew it was there. Something bad. Something dark. It had been hidden, but now it was emerging and it was looking for her. The structure all around her was in ruins, the walls crumbled, baring cold stone. But she couldn't get out. She walked and walked, turning to see that nothing was coming up behind her. At times she'd stop and turn, every sense seeking what it was she could sense out there.

  The wind tore at her, hiding what she needed to hear. She was in a room, a thick layer of dust over everything. The furniture broken and torn.

  "John?" she called, but got no response.

  A small creak drew her attention and she honed every instinct she had in the direction she had heard it from, but nothing appeared, or peeked around the corner. But it was there—she could feel it.

  "John?" she called again and began to wander. A woman stood ahead in a dark dress, her hair pulled severely into a low bun, and her eyes were lifeless. "Have you seen my brother?"

  The woman opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Ill ease crept up Vivienne's spine. She wanted to be away from that woman. There was madness there, or something unpleasant. Maybe evil. There was certainly no warmth in her eyes.

  Quickly, Vivienne kept walking. A creature was outside the walls, dark with a tail like a fox. It glided along the walls, looking for a way in. It was going to eat her if it reached her. In her gut, she knew this creature meant her ill.

  "Where are you?" she called, turning around, and then again to return to the direction she was going. Her feet burned with cold. Icy wind licked along her arms. There was no heat anywhere. "John!" she called more sharply now.

  "Mi
ss Harcourt?" a voice said, but she couldn't place it. It floated in the air, not attached to a person.

  "Who are you?"

  "Miss Harcourt?" It repeated. It gripped her around the arms—something she couldn't see. "Are you alright?"

  No, she wasn't alright. "Stop."

  What held her shook her now.

  "Viv," a voice said. John.

  "John, where are you?"

  "Right here." He was so close. Right in front of her and she focused on him, and he emerged out of nothingness. The moonlight was replaced by darkness, the only light from a lantern below. John's concerned face was looking at her.

  Vivienne looked around. No longer was she in the ruin she'd been wandering through, with that creature outside. She was in a house now. Inside. And John was there.

  "Viv, you were wandering in your sleep."

  Frowning, she tried to understand what John was saying.

  "Are you awake now?"

  "Yes, I'm awake."

  Turning, she saw Mrs. Dartmoor, standing in her sleeping cap and nightgown. And she, herself, was in her nightgown too, she saw as she looked down. Bare feet on cold floors. What was she doing here? "Wandering?" she repeated.

  "Sleepwalking," John said. "Come, let's go back to your room."

  Embarrassment flared up her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

  Down the end of the hall, she could see Lord Routledge standing in his night clothes as well, before turning and walking away. She must have roused the whole house. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

  With his arm around her, John walked her back down the corridor. She'd been wandering in her sleep.

  "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a child," John said. "What has brought this on?"

  She had no answer for him. As a child, she'd had nightmares, but they had settled after a while.

  Her room was somewhat warm as she returned and she now noticed how cold she was. Her feet were freezing and her fingers too.

  John urged her into bed, before moving to the fireplace and stoking what was left of the fire before placing another piece of wood on it. "Go back to sleep," he said. "Maybe you should lock your door and hide the key in case you go wandering again."

  "I must have given Mrs. Dartmoor such a shock," Vivienne said tearfully, still trying to get her mind around what had just happened, and the dream she'd had. Miss Trubright had been there, and had not been a pleasant specter. And that creature trying to get to her. In her mind, that must have been the wind. The peculiarities of this place were getting to her.

  "It will all be better in the morning."

  Snuggling down in the bed, she pulled her blankets up, her mind still feeling assaulted from the dream and the shock of being awoken traipsing around the halls in her nightgown.

  John sat down on the mattress beside her, she felt the depression from his weight. It was comforting him simply being there and she forced her mind to let go of all the things that were vying for her attention. There was nothing she could do about any of it.

  "Sleep now," he said calmly and she felt him leave again.

  *

  It was bright when she woke. The harsh weather of the day before had alleviated. Almost as if the bad weather had brought her dreams with it.

  Sitting up in bed, she looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The fire had died some time ago and the room was chilly.

  It was embarrassing what had occurred last night, but she'd had no say in it. She'd been sleepwalking. It had been years since she’d done anything like that, and now it had happened again.

  Rising out of bed, she dressed as quickly as she could, pulling on a thick woolen shawl to sit down at the dressing table. She didn't look any different. But the strangeness of her dreams, and dreaming of Miss Trubright. Something about being here had disturbed her mind.

  With her hairbrush, she soothed her locks and then pinned them up. Her morning routine was harder without a maid to help, but not impossible.

  It appeared to be a little later than normal when she walked downstairs, making her way to the dining room.

  Sophie sat at the table along with Lewis and Horace. "I hear you were wandering the halls last night," Sophie said. As she walked further into the room, she saw that Brynnell was also there, standing by the side table and filling his plate.

  "Yes, it appears so." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I don't usually wander. Quite an aberration."

  "I had an aunt who did that," Horace said. "Usually found her in the kitchen, eating whatever leftovers she could find. Perhaps you were hungry."

  "Yes, perhaps," Vivienne replied absently, knowing it hadn't been food on her mind. Looking over to the fireplace, she saw the stern and solemn Miss Trubright watching them.

  Archie walked in behind her and headed straight for the food. "It's a rather nice day, relatively. Thought we might go for a ride, or an outing of some kind."

  "Wonderful idea," Sophie said. "Being cooped up inside can be so stifling. I'm sure that's what brought your episode on."

  "What episode?" Archie asked, turning to look questioningly.

  "Miss Harcourt was sleepwalking last night," Brynnell said, and for some reason, Vivienne burned ever brighter, wishing they would stop talking about it.

  She smiled graciously at Archie. "Not a regular occurrence, I assure you."

  "Well, we'll have to make sure to lock the doors," Archie said, drawing attention back to the food.

  Vivienne had lost her appetite, but she sat down with the rest, accepting a cup of breakfast tea from Jenkins. It felt like the eyes of the portrait were specifically watching her.

  "I believe there is a pub in the fishing village up the coast. We should perhaps visit for an ale," Archie said. "I understand there is a road that leads that way."

  "How quaint," Sophie said. "I am sure you can stay here, Mrs. Dartmoor," Sophie said, appealing to the woman who was just entering the room. "There is sufficient chaperoning with Miss Harcourt joining us."

  "Of course," Mrs. Dartmoor said with a small smile. “I don’t mind.”

  It seemed Sophie sought to exclude her chaperone as much as possible. In her eyes, Mrs. Dartmoor was not a part of their party, only needed when there was no other female companion around.

  Vivienne felt embarrassed for Mrs. Dartmoor too, being dismissed in front of everyone. There was no visible sign that it bothered her, but it bordered on rude the way Sophie spoke to her. In Sophie's eyes, she was an employee—simply one of better breeding.

  In accordance with Sophie's assertion, she left the room. Vivienne wanted to say something to Sophie about how she spoke to the woman, but wouldn't do so in front of others. Mrs. Dartmoor was very pleasant, although very reserved, and it was unnecessary to order her around like a servant. Sophie had the capacity to be very tactless at times, particularly when it came to perceived social lines. In a setting like this, what was the harm in including everyone?

  Chapter 8

  THE TRIP TO THE PUB in the fishing village up the coast was little more than an uncomfortable jostling on a terrible road. The men on their horses didn't notice so much, but for her and Sophie, it was a perilous and uncomfortable outing, to arrive at what was little more than a dusty room. Still, it was a day away, Vivienne supposed, even as she had to constantly guard herself in case the carriage suddenly jilted sideways.

  Sophie complained bitterly about the state of the road, saying it had no right calling itself a road. And by the reaction they received in the village, Vivienne had to wonder if the state of the road was purposeful and aimed to make people stay away. They were not glad of the strange visitors coming into their village. Harsh looks and whispers were observed in every direction, although Sophie didn't notice, or didn't care.

  No, Vivienne would not call it a successful outing, and there really wasn't anything in the village other than the pub.

  It was with some bone-weary relief that they returned to the house and the welcoming warmth of the salon.

  "You have visitors, my l
ord," Jenkins said as he took their coats.

  "Oh?"

  "Mrs. Bollingworth, and her husband," he said and Archie's eyebrows rose. "Are there any other visitors we should know about?" Jenkins enquired, a hint of sharpness in his voice. It meant a great deal of work for the three of them clearing yet another room and then tending to still more visitors to the house.

  "I didn't even know they were coming."

  "Uninvited guests," Sophie said lightly. "How intriguing."

  "Not uninvited," Archie replied. "Mrs. Bollingworth is my cousin, and always welcome."

  Archie walked ahead to the salon, where a woman and man rose from their seats. What appeared to be a fond greeting was exchanged, but Vivienne could see tenseness in the woman, a small woman with brown hair tied back severely.

  "Such a delight you could join us, Clarissa," Archie said.

  "Well, as you were coming to the house, we'd thought we had to welcome you."

  "How considerate of you. Gabriel. Good to see you again." The man, clearly this woman's husband was tall with a round face. It struck Vivienne that he and his wife looked a little mismatched.

  "Archibald," the man said jovially.

  "And of course, you must meet my guests." Archie went on to introduce them all. "This is quite a party we have now."

  Clarissa smiled, showing a neat row of small, white teeth. "I hadn't expected you had brought so many people with you."

  "Thought we'd make an occasion of this—a real housewarming. So it is providential that you came to join us."

  "Of course, cousin," she said, but her smile did not reach her eyes. Whatever motives they had for coming, it was not to celebrate Archie's good fortune. Was Archie aware of this? It was hard to tell. They were cousins, and like all cousins had their own history. Archie wasn't one to give away if he knew the real reason they were here.

  "A Madeira?" John asked her and she blinked a couple of times, taking a seat on one of the sofas.

  "A whiskey, Gabriel?" Archie asked.

  "Oh yes, I mean no," Gabriel said after getting direction from his wife through a harsh glance.