As I struggled to fall asleep, details of Annie’s death paraded through my mind. I had inquired about the circumstances in the days following our wedding. Buchanan provided answers to most of my queries.
It was a temperate day in mid-April when Annie had met her terrible fate. Robert had been out riding late in the morning before lunch. Edwin arrived to speak with him. Finding Robert out riding, Edwin stepped out for fresh air. As he walked, a scream broke the silence. He rushed in its direction, finding Annie’s broken body on the ground below the turret.
She wore a red dress that day, which became bloodied and filthy in the fall. Edwin carried Annie to the house, and a doctor was summoned, but the injuries Annie sustained killed her instantly. Nothing could be done to save her. She had passed before Edwin happened upon her. Robert had fallen to pieces when he learned of her death, locking himself in his room for days at a time and refusing to speak to anyone. Her funeral was delayed as a result of Robert’s inability to bring himself to bury her.
According to Buchanan, in the months prior to her death, Annie had become somewhat reclusive. She dismissed her ladies’ maid and preferred not to travel at all. I had hoped to speak with the girl, but her whereabouts were unknown. The only other person involved that I had not spoken to was Edwin. Given his sentiments toward me, I did not imagine he would provide much information.
As my mind whirled around, images of my dangerous dance on the turret’s windowsill flashed in my mind. Anxiety welled inside me as the reality of the situation smacked me in the face. For the first time in my life, my encounter with a ghost had turned dangerous. It had nearly turned me into one of them!
My eyes popped open as uneasiness overwhelmed me. In the dimly lit room, I made out Robert’s form, dozing in the chair next to my bed. His presence brought me solace, settling my frayed nerves. I closed my eyes again and allowed myself to drift off to sleep.
Chapter 11
The fuss over me the following morning seemed endless. Servants flitted in and out, ensuring my every need was met as I remained abed, an order from Robert. I was not to move for the entire day and only could resume light activities the following day if the doctor approved it.
Dr. MacAndrews arrived by mid-morning to offer his opinion on my condition. The same doctor that pronounced the former Mrs. Fletcher deceased, I worried his presence may upset Robert or worse, Annie.
“Hello, Your Grace, how are we feeling today?” Dr. MacAndrews inquired while removing his stethoscope from his black doctor’s bag. Robert looked on from the foot of the bed.
“Quite well, thank you,” I responded.
“Duke Blackmoore informs me that you experienced quite a frightening incident last night.”
“Yes, but I have recovered quite well.”
Dr. MacAndrews pressed his stethoscope to my chest. “Take a deep breath for me, please,” he instructed. I took several as he listened, moving the instrument around then requesting I sit up as he placed it on my back. He felt for my pulse, then gazed into my eyes and checked my throat. He checked my hands, both of which were scraped and bruised from my desperate clutching at the stone sill. “Have you any pain anywhere?”
“No,” I replied. As I spoke, movement caught my eye. Annie appeared, stepping just inside the doorway. She stood staring in my direction.
“Lenora,” Robert prodded, “are you quite sure?”
I shrugged, eliciting some pain from my arms and shoulders. “A bit of soreness in my arms.”
“Where?” Dr. MacAndrews questioned. “Point to the location.”
I ran my hands up and down each arm and onto my shoulder. “Hmm, yes,” the doctor responded. “Yes, no doubt from clinging to the windowsill. And what of your mindset? Have you any terrible thoughts or strange notions?”
“No, none,” I assured him. “Though the memory remains unpleasant, it does not disturb me greatly.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Dr. MacAndrews murmured. “Still quite an experience for a young woman.”
“What do you recommend, doctor?” Robert inquired.
“I will tend to the wounds on her hands and I recommend two days of bed rest,” he began.
“Two days?!” I cried, only to be hushed by Robert.
Dr. MacAndrews set about tending to the scrapes on my fingers and palms as he continued. “I shall leave a sedative to allow the duchess to rest comfortably. If any changes arise in either her physical or mental state, call for me at once. I shall return in two days to provide another check. If she has improved, we will reevaluate her activity level.”
Annie continued to look on as Dr. MacAndrews finished cleaning and dressing my wounds. I glanced at her several times during the treatment. Buchanan arrived as Dr. MacAndrews packed his medical bag, leaving a bottle of a sedative and instructions with Robert.
Buchanan escorted the doctor out, leaving Robert and I along with our phantom. Annie still stood sentinel near the doorway. Robert eased into the chair at my bedside. “I shall have Buchanan send an extra spoon with your tea for your medicine.” He noticed the direction of my gaze, glancing behind him before questioning me. “What is it?”
“Annie,” I replied, my gaze unwavering.
“What?” Robert questioned, glancing again behind him. “Do not attempt to communicate with her, Lenora.”
“She has been here since the doctor arrived to examine me.”
“Ignore her. You must rest, Lenora.”
I shook my head, focusing my gaze on Robert. “I am resting. And we have not yet finished our conversation from last night.”
“You are meant to be sleeping, not arguing about pursuing a gambit that has proven far too dangerous.”
“I cannot sleep for two days straight, Robert,” I countered. “I agree to stay abed, but there is no reason I cannot rest while awake.”
Robert heaved a sigh. “Lenora, when I brought you here, when we agreed to our arrangement, I never believed you would be placed in any danger. I did not understand that the dead do not behave as they did whilst alive. Under the circumstances, this project must cease.”
It was my turn to sigh. “I do not agree. And Annie’s presence here suggests that she did not intend to harm me last night.”
“Perhaps it suggests she hopes to finish the job,” Robert retorted. “Lenora, I will not continue to argue about this while you lay confined to your bed because you were nearly killed last night!”
“Fine,” I acquiesced. “We shall reserve the argument for when I am up and about.”
Robert offered me an unimpressed glance. “Has anyone ever told you what a stubborn woman you are, Lenora?”
“Yes, on several occasions. I paid them no mind,” I replied, earning a chuckle from Robert.
Buchanan arrived with tea, providing an extra spoon for the medication prescribed by the doctor. “I do not need that,” I objected. “I shall take it this evening.”
“Lenora…” Robert began to object, but I hushed him with a wave of my hand.
“Do not worry. I shall not gallivant around the castle,” I promised.
“No, you shan’t. And I shall stay right here to make sure of it,” Robert replied as Ella entered the room.
“Oh, Your Grace!” she exclaimed as she hastened to my bedside. “Mr. Buchanan told me you had suffered an accident. I wanted to come earlier but he preferred you not be disturbed.”
“I am quite all right,” I assured her. “And I shall continue to rest without requiring supervision. I do not wish to keep you from your work, Robert.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me, dear?”
“No. However, I am an unnecessary distraction. I do not require oversight.”
“Hmm,” Robert murmured, pondering the situation.
“I shall stay with her, Your Grace,” Ella promised. “I will be sure she receives the proper rest and care.”
“There, you see?” I inquired. “I shall be well looked after.”
“All right. I shall leave you under Sinclair’s care. Do not
climb from this bed,” Robert ordered, offering me a kiss on the forehead.
As he departed, I noted Annie’s presence, still standing quietly near the door. Her eyes stared at me, unwavering even as Robert passed her. Ella sank into the chair vacated by Robert. She grasped at my bandaged hand, her eyes falling to it.
“Oh, how awful this is, Your Grace,” she lamented. “Did the doctor provide good news about your recovery?”
“Yes,” I answered. “I’ve little recovery to do, Sinclair. I am perfectly fine, only a little disturbed by the alarming event.”
“Of course, poor dear,” Ella cooed at me. “Would you like a cool cloth for your head?”
“No, thank you, Sinclair.”
She smiled in response before adding, “Perhaps you should sleep.”
“If I feel tired, I shall sleep. Until then, let us pass the time by conversing. Tell me more about yourself.”
“Myself?” Ella questioned.
“Yes. Then I can rest and learn more about you.”
The request seemed to take Ella by surprise, though she obliged me, informing me about her life as a child in Glasgow. She imparted many colorful tales about her parents, siblings and her own upbringing, keeping me entertained until lunch was served to me.
The warm bowl of soup provided a satisfying midday meal and brought a sleepiness on me such that I wondered if the prescribed sedative had been sneaked into it. I found myself dozing off in the early afternoon as I read my book whilst Ella mended a dress.
When Robert checked on me before dinner, I had drifted off, only aware of his presence after Ella informed me. Whenever I awoke, despite the hour, I found Annie, the silent sentinel, posted near the door.
Robert visited me again after I’d eaten my dinner tray, this time finding me awake. “How are you feeling, dear?” he asked after kissing my forehead. Taking over for Ella, who departed to eat her own meal, he sunk into the chair.
“Quite well,” I replied. “I even managed to sleep this afternoon.”
“Yes, when I checked earlier you were asleep. Bravo, Lenora. I worried I’d have to tie you to the bed to keep you in it.”
I shook my head at his droll attempt at humor. Robert searched around the room. “Has Annie departed?”
“No,” I informed him. “She has not left since the doctor examined me.”
“Where is she?” Robert said, still scouring the space.
“Just there,” I said with a nod of my head, “near the door.”
“It disturbs me that she has not left,” Robert fretted, crossing his arms across his chest.
“There is no need to be disturbed, Robert. She has done me no harm in all her hours here. I do not imagine she intends to.”
Robert pondered the statement, then shook his head. “Still, I am unwilling to leave you alone in the event that she may prey on you in a vulnerable moment.” I smiled at Robert’s statement, folding my hands across my lap as I settled into the pillows behind me. “Have you taken your medicine?”
“Not yet, though I promise to within the hour. Despite my afternoon nap, I feel rather exhausted. I slept fitfully last night given my experience.”
“Then you should rest,” Robert prodded, standing and filling the spoon with the liquid from the doctor’s bottle.
I swallowed the bitter liquid. It sent a shudder through me and left a grimace on my face. “Oh!” I exclaimed. “I hope not to need that again. The taste is awful. It is worse than the food at St. Mary’s!”
Robert settled into his chair. “Was it very difficult living there?” he inquired. “Oh, please, if it is too painful for you to speak of, ignore my query.”
“It is not unpleasant, though I haven’t many fond memories of the orphanage. And the food was quite terrible,” I assured him.
Robert chuckled. “Mrs. MacAlistair should be delighted to know she has improved upon your previous experience with food.”
“I do tell her as often as I can,” I added. “Outside of that, the headmistress’ cognizance of my cross often made life unbearable.”
“How did she come to learn of it? Did you tell her?”
“No,” I explained. “The nuns who left me there told her. She claimed she should have been commended for taking me in, given what they told her.”
“You were at a convent prior to St. Mary’s?” Robert questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“Yes,” I revealed. “I was there for one year, four months and ten days.” I noted the confused expression spreading on Robert’s face and continued my explanation. “My mother left me there just before I turned six.”
“Have you any idea why your mother did this?”
“Because I was not a normal child. She grew increasingly disturbed about my ability and before my sixth birthday decided she could not tolerate anymore.”
“How terrible. You poor child!”
I offered a meek smile, preferring to leave those memories closed off in my mind as I began to feel tiredness wash over me. I slouched further down in the bed, pulling the covers around me.
“Are you beginning to become tired?” Robert queried.
I nodded, stifling a yawn. “Then I shall leave you sleep after one more question,” Robert said.
“What is it?” I said, this time failing to repress my yawn.
“When is your birthday, Lenora?”
“October 31,” I informed him, surprised by the question.
“All Hallows’ Eve?”
My eyes struggled to remain open as I answered. “Mmm, yes,” I responded, sleep filling my voice, “another reason my mother considered me a wicked child.” With that, I drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 12
Over one month passed with no disturbances from Annie. Though she stayed in my room for the entirety of my bedrest, she beckoned to me no more. Even after Dr. MacAndrews freed me from my chambers, Annie only appeared to me on limited occasions and did nothing more than gaze at me from afar. If I approached her, despite Robert’s objections over me “chasing after her,” she disappeared. Simply vanished into thin air, leaving behind no trace.
On a few occasions, I ventured to the ill-fated tower, though never entered it. Despite my courageous façade, I remained spooked by the incident, and unwilling to explore my frightened feelings even within my own heart. Robert had the door removed, and the window boarded to prevent against any future incidents in which someone could be harmed. On my first visit there, after my near-fatal experience, I hovered a few steps down from the doorway.
My stomach somersaulted as I recalled the events that occurred on the previous occasion when I had entered that room. I shut my eyes as tears threatened. Finding myself unable to go any further, I descended the staircase and traversed the halls to my own tower. Odd how this tower could wrap me in comfort while the other could cause such angst.
It was the solace of my tower room that I sought on this early March afternoon. As February came to a close, my mind ceased being able to hold my past at bay. I dwelled upon it, as I always did at this time of the year.
It was the tenth of March when I’d arrived at the orphanage. A child of seven, I had lived at the Daughters of Charity convent from just before I had turned six. During my time at the convent, I’d helped clean and cook and took part in daily prayers. Despite being a small child, playing was forbidden. The nuns, aware of my odd ability, did their level best to keep me contained and solitary.
The older nuns were the only women I assisted. They kept me from any of the younger nuns, afraid I may poison them with my bizarre capability. “You’ll lead people astray, Lenora,” one of the older nuns warned on several occasions.
Though they never were cruel, the portion of my childhood spent there lacked any warmth or normalcy other children experienced. I longed for my mother, as I received no maternal care here. I yearned to run through my former back yard, the wind blowing through my hair, or swing on the wooden swing hanging from the large oak tree there. Instead, for most of the
daylight hours, I was confined to my windowless room. Permitted no light in an attempt to prevent me from spotting any specters, I sat alone in a dark room for most daylight hours.
The treatment did little to stop my visions of those departed, who could visit whether or not enough light was available. I did not mind their visits. They were often the only normal interactions I had.
During the night, the nuns locked me in my room, claiming it to be for my own protection. In reality, I discovered through overheard conversations that they feared the disturbances that may occur overnight should I rise from my bed and roam the halls.
After three months of this treatment, I managed to pilfer an old hairpin from one of the older nuns. I hid it in my pocket and, after the lights had been put out in the convent, I approached my locked door and attempted to pick the lock.
On that first night, the lock defeated me. It took me over a week to master opening my lock. The first time I did, I remained in my room, surprised by my own ability to triumph in my diabolical scheme to escape my confinement. As morning approached, the notion occurred to me that I should attempt to relock my door, so my hijinks went unnoticed.
I pushed the hairpin into the lock and fiddled with it until the knob no longer turned when I tried it. Satisfied with my work, I crept back into bed and slid under the covers after hiding my new tool under my mattress.
I spent the next thirteen months using my hairpin to escape nightly from my room. I traversed the halls, ventured outside into the courtyard garden, and even crept into the tiny chapel once or twice. During summer months, I enjoyed laying in the grass and stargazing. Especially exciting were the nights with a full moon. The moonlight basked the plants in the garden in its glowing white light, making them appear magical.
As my nocturnal excursions continued, I would sleep during the day while locked away in the dark. After dinner, I would count the hours until silence fell over the convent. I’d then slip from my bed, unlock my door and spend hours entertaining myself with games I made up, fantastical stories of knights and princesses and, of course, interacting with those lost souls who would visit me.
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