In the church there was a small scattering of villagers, they were there not for the love of Charlotte, but out of respect for her mother and father. Reverend Peters spoke of the teenager who had played pranks on the stable hands and kitchen staff. Of the beautiful young lady who had attracted much attention from the young men of the parish. He spoke of the tragedy that had started her on the downhill spiral, of her lost love that had tipped her over the edge and the death of her father, the final straw. Mostly, he spoke of the lovely child who had brought sunshine into the lives of everyone who knew her.
The congregation were restless and nodded and muttered to themselves remembering the spiteful child full of mischief and malice, they remembered the good and the bad times up at the big house and how everything changed after Mrs Worthington passed away. After the service the villagers soon dispersed, most went home, some to the local pub to reminisce about Moorcroft, the parties that had taken place there and the gentry that had visited the grand house and they wondered what would happen to the old place now.
It had started to drizzle as they carried the coffin to the grave, few tears were shed that morning, only the family Doctor, lawyer and faithful cook remained by the graveside.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Reverend Peters said the words automatically. Inside he asked for forgiveness for his lack of spiritual guidance, and hoped that Charlotte could now rest in peace.
Charlotte was the last of the Worthington’s and the Moorcroft Estate had been heavily mortgaged and so it wasn’t long before the bank took possession. An estate manager was put in place to see to the house and to collect the rents from the tenant farmers and Moorcroft was put on the market. The local estate agent took several families to view the house, but the coldness of the place and its history and local gossip soon put people off a purchase. It wasn’t long before the young boys of the village used the gardens as a playground and the windows for target practice. After a time, the live in caretaker left and the house was boarded up. Moorcroft stood in darkness but not alone, inside another world existed for a once beautiful young woman with hopes of marriage and children of her own.
Charlotte wandered the empty rooms waiting and calling out for Frederick to return to her, why hadn’t he come to her as she had hoped? She waited and waited remembering happier times in these rooms, in her world she saw the roaring fires, and she heard the music and laughter and watched the couples dancing around the great hall. She too swayed to the music and longed for her fiancé to return for her, to once more take her into his loving arms. Then they would be married and would live happily ever after as they did in her dreams. Her thoughts were shattered as she heard banging at the door and the moment was lost. Those young hooligans from the village were back, throwing stones and tramping on the gardens. She would show them, her only enjoyment was to chase those ruffians away.
“Witch” they would yell as she screamed and shouted from the front door, she would run after them and laugh as they ran for their lives down the drive.
Now Moorcroft stood empty of life, the wind whistled through the gaps in the windows and doors and the rooms smelt of damp and decay. Even the white dust sheets over the furniture had become grey and mouldy and the once elegant stuffed settee in the drawing room was now home to several mice. The doors upstairs creaked as the wind gently rocked them backwards and forwards. In the attic a puddle formed from a small crack in the roof tiles, soon the wood floor would rot and the water would find its way to the lower floors. Still Charlotte waited.
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CHAPTER 2
Over the following years several couples visited her home, but no-one had ever stayed longer than a few minutes. Downstairs the windows were boarded up putting the house in darkness, so Charlotte remained in the upstairs rooms looking from the windows, watching those unruly boys tearing apart her mother’s precious rose garden. The years passed, five, ten, she lost count as she roamed the corridors of her home. Then one bright and sunny day a car came up the drive. The young woman watched from her bedroom window as the same scrawny man she had seen many times left his car and walked towards the door, a bunch of keys jingling in his hand. How many times had he visited now, she had lost count. She straightened her back and moved nearer to the window to get a better view, this time he had brought along a young couple with two children, a boy and a girl; this was to be her first sighting of the Gardener family. They were coming into her house, she could hear the key turning and the door creaking as it was pushed open. She watched from the landing as they walked inside and she scrutinised the visitors. They looked an agreeable family, the woman looked pleasant enough, pretty, dressed smartly, friendly, perhaps they could become acquainted one day should they decide to stay. The man looked a cheerful sort, well dressed and often smiled at the woman by his side; he was attractive in a way but not as handsome as her fiancé Frederick. The children ran from room to room laughing as children do; she smiled as she watched them running in circles round their parents, playing a game of tag. Up the stairs they came and as they approached the landing she could feel her excitement mounting and giggled to herself. The children stopped in their tracks and looked around and then at each other.
“Did you hear that?” The little girl whispered.
The boy laughed. “Oh Sarah, it’s probably the wind,” and changing his voice taunted her, “or perhaps it’s a ghost.”
The girl pushed him in the chest. “Don’t be silly, there are no such things as ghosts.”
Charlotte smiled and watched the boy as he straddled the banister and slid down towards the others.
His mother watching from the bottom gasped. “Richard, do be careful.” At the bottom she grabbed his arm before he could run away and brushed at his trousers. “Just look at your clothes now, covered in dust and cobwebs.”
Sarah ran down the stairs and her father caught her in his arms as she leapt from the fourth step, he spun her round and they all laughed. Charlotte took in a deep breath, how wonderful to hear laughter again. She followed them from room to room as they wandered around the house, the man taking notes, the woman smiling and nodding, but all too soon they were leaving, she watched with sadness as the front door was pulled shut, putting the house in darkness once more.
Charlotte remained alone at Moorcroft reliving the past; still hoping Frederick would come and release her from this earthly turmoil. Weeks turned to months before she saw the first of the vans coming up the drive. The main door was pushed open and several men carried many boxes into the downstairs rooms. A tall distinguished gentleman with greying hair seemed to be in charge and gave instructions to the others. She was filled with excitement and followed them around, often colliding with the men who stood still and shivered. The boards were removed from the dining room windows and once more the room was filled with light. The head man looked around and nodded. Soon he had a fire lit and her father’s desk was brought from the study and placed by the window. The man sat in her fathers chair and unfolded a large roll of drawings and placed them on top of the desk. She looked over his shoulder. Here was a plan of her house, what was happening? The man shivered and pulled up the collar of his coat and Charlotte pulled back. He looked behind him, and studied the windows and reached out his hand feeling for draughts, he shrugged and returned his attention to the drawings. Several men congregated around the desk as the man pointed to the plans and soon they were scurrying from room to room eager to get on with their work. The house was once more a hive of activity.
Months passed with men coming and going and Charlotte became more excited as she followed them around. She became quite giddy and on several occasions knocked things over in her rush to see everything, alarming the workers at their labours. The roof was checked for leaks and repaired, and the carpenters moved in to fix all the windows and ease all the doors so that they would shut properly once more, the chimneys were swept and fires were lit in every room and soon the house was alive again. The kitchen range was cleaned and repaired, new cupboar
ds were fitted and a new table and chairs were set against the wall. She moved around her home and watched the workmen as they sat and ate their lunch in the kitchen, admiring the new furnishings and only half listening to their conversation.
One man looked over his shoulder and shivered. “I for one will be glad when this job is finished; this house gives me the creeps.” He took another bite of his sandwich and looked at the others. His fellow workmen nodded.
“I know what you mean Fred. The number of times I’ve had tools moved just out of reach and doors banged behind me. Makes my skin crawl it does.”
He looked around the room and the others nodded muttering to themselves in whispers and looking over their shoulders.
Charlotte couldn’t understand them; her home was once more bright and beautiful, not creepy at all. She danced around the kitchen oblivious to the workmen’s shivers. A few young women from the village came to clean all the rooms, even the attic had a clean sweep and the house was filled with laughter and chatter, Charlotte was so happy she followed them from room to room enjoying their company. Night time was a different story, everyone went home and the house was quiet again only an old man remained, and slept on a little bed in the drawing room. He kept the fire lit all night and although he checked the downstairs rooms and windows he seldom went upstairs. Charlotte had tried to talk to him, asking him questions about the workers, was someone coming to live in her house and what were the people like, but the old man ignored her. She sat by his side looking into the fire and listening to his snores and waited.
Over the next few weeks she watched as the men cleared away all their equipment and left the house. The young women had cleaned the house from top to bottom, the old crumbling furniture had been removed and the better pieces polished, now everything was clean and bright. All too soon Charlotte watched as they all left her home. The doors were locked once more and Moorcroft was left quiet and lonely again. Charlotte wandered the rooms, touching the furniture, the shiny door handles and polished banister, she could smell the bees wax and the freshness of the floor cleaners. One day, two days, she lost count of the days she watched from the upstairs windows longing for someone to come, and then it happened. A large van approached the house, it rocked from side to side, and stopped at the front door and two men got out, they stood chatting to each other and smoked leaning against the van. She ran from room to room looking from the windows, why hadn’t they come in? She spotted a car coming up the drive and held her breath. When the car stopped the same two children she had seen a few months before jumped out and started running around kicking up the gravel and laughing. Their parents emerged from the car and the man took a bunch of keys from his pocket and he moved towards the front door. Charlotte could hear the old key turning in the lock and she ran to the top of the stairs, just in time to see the nice lady walk through the door and look up the magnificent stairs, she smiled as she twirled around taking in the new look of Moorcroft. No more the dark and dingy stairs but a bright, fresh and airy entrance.
In ran the young boy and stopped dead in his tracks. “Wow!” he said and ran to the top of the stairs eager to ride the banister once more.
Charlotte watched the boy having fun, she had never been allowed to do anything like this as a child and decided to join in, and she too sat on the banister rail and slid to the bottom.
Sarah was standing near the bottom of the stairs watching her brother and laughing as he fell to the floor. Her laughter stopped as she felt the air move past her and heard a whooshing sound, she turned to look up the stairs but she saw nothing.
Richard pushed her. “Come on sis, let’s explore.”
Sarah shivered, she didn’t like this house, it felt spooky. “I think I’ll stay down here with mother.”
“Don’t be such a baby, come on, we’ll have some fun.”
Reluctantly Sarah looked up at the dark landing above and followed her brother.
Charlotte watched the woman smile at her children as they set off up the stairs.
John Gardener stood holding the keys in his hand and admired the gleaming chandelier and the wood panelling. He smiled as he looked at his wife. He had made a good choice with this house, a sound investment. He had a home to be proud of and tenant farmers bringing in an income, and a happy family, what more could a man want.
“Well, Emily, what do you think of the old house now?”
She flung her arms around her husband’s neck, “Oh John it’s wonderful. I can’t believe we actually own this house, it’s so beautiful.”
When they heard a cough behind them they turned to see one of the delivery men carrying in a large box.
“Where do you want this Mister?”
John cleared his throat. “All the boxes are labelled so you can see which room they belong in. We will label each room so that you can put the correct box in the same numbered room; there shouldn’t be any mix up.”
The man raised his eyebrows. “Right you are Sir,” and put the box on the floor.
John looked down at the box and sighed.
His wife giggled. “You didn’t expect it to go that smoothly, did you?”
Emily went from room to room admiring her new home and went upstairs to inspect the bedrooms, labelling as she went. She could hear Richard and Sarah arguing over who would have which bedroom. She gave them a coin. “Toss for it. Whoever wins gets to choose.”
She left them to it; she had a lot to do today. At last all the furniture and boxes were brought into the house. John gave the removal men a tip and they were soon rattling down the drive. Between them they made some sort of order in the rooms and flopped down in the armchairs, exhausted. John looked at his wife.
“Did that agency fellow say we had people coming for jobs tomorrow?” He would have been happier if the agency had done the interviews themselves but his wife had insisted on doing it herself, she wanted to be sure of getting only the people she liked.
“Yes, I’m afraid he did, we will both be busy interviewing first thing after breakfast. Well, I have a meal to produce for this family so I’ll leave you to light the fires and I’ll find the kitchen and prepare a light meal.” He watched as she scurried off down the hall.
By mid morning the next day it was obvious to everyone, except to the Gardeners, that they were not proper gentry. John was in his study taking stock of all the men as they came and sat before him and Emily was in the drawing room checking over the young girls to see if they were suitable as housemaids. She had seen several upright women, all more than capable of becoming her housekeeper, but she could see from the look in their eyes that they looked down on her. She tutted to herself and shook her head, the working classes were far snootier than the gentry.
She had become exhausted walking backwards and forwards to the drawing room door so this time she stayed sat at her desk and shouted. “Next.” She sighed and in walked another straight backed woman with a stern look upon her face. Emily pointed to a seat and the woman perched on the edge of the chair. “And what is your name?”
“My name is Mrs Edith Shaw and I live in the village Ma’am.”
“Have you done this kind of work before?”
“That depends on what kind of work you are talking about Ma’am.”
Emily smiled to herself for the first time that day and lifted her head up from her writing and looked at the woman sat opposite her.
“I am a cook, Ma’am, and a good one too. The man who owned the house in my last position said that I made the best game pie he had ever tasted.”
Emily nodded. “Were you in charge of the kitchens in your last employment?”
The woman sniffed and fidgeted in her seat. “No ma’am, I was undercook, but the head cook drank more cooking sherry than she put in the trifle, and left most of the work to me.”
Again Emily laughed and sat back in her chair, she liked this woman, she spoke her mind. “Do you think you could cope with being head cook in a house this size? There will be myself, my husband and two child
ren to cater for on a daily basis and the occasional guests no doubt. Then there will be the staff and perhaps a dinner party or two.”
Mrs Shaw smiled for the first time. “Of that I am certain; just you give me a try.”
“Right, that’s settled.” Emily sat back and sighed with relief. “Now Mrs Shaw I have had a rather tiring morning as you can imagine, can I rely on you to pick the kitchen staff. I was thinking two kitchen girls would be enough. One to help with the cooking and another to do the laundry, do you agree?”
Mrs Shaw clutched at her handbag and leant forward. “That would be fine Ma’am and I know just the girls.”
Emily cocked her head to one side. “Can you start tomorrow? I know its short notice and I’m afraid the house is still in some disarray, but I’m sure you will soon have the kitchen sorted out and up and running.”
Mrs Shaw nodded and smiled; she had not only got herself employment but had found work for her daughter too. “That would be no trouble at all Ma’am.”
Working hours, days off and wages were discussed and Emily showed her around the kitchen with its new fridge and freezer, she could see that the woman was impressed. Emily walked Mrs Shaw to the door and they shook hands. She watched the woman walk jauntily down the drive and felt that she had gained a friend that morning. Emily walked back to the drawing room and flopped in the chair exhausted. She had never realised just how difficult the interviewing process could be and hoped that John was having more luck checking out the men.
Moorcroft The Possession Page 2
