The Clockwork House

by Wendy Saunders

  18

  As the door swung open Bunty didn’t look herself. Not quite as polished and sure of herself as usual as she stared down at Ava, looking slightly uncomfortable.

  ‘You’d better come in,’ she said before the young woman could speak.

  She stepped back and allowed Ava to enter.

  ‘None of the other ladies here?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ Bunty replied flatly, ‘just me.’

  Ava followed her through to the kitchen and took a seat at the table where Bunty indicated. She watched silently as the older woman set the kettle to boil and retrieved two cups from the cupboard. Ava waited patiently, giving her time to settle.

  ‘I owe you an apology,’ Bunty flushed, ‘for being so out of sorts the other day.’

  ‘No, you don’t Bunty,’ Ava shook her head. ‘Baz owes you an apology for not warning you about the brownies.’

  Bunty flushed again.

  ‘Still,’ she shook her head, ‘I’d like to apologize for my regrettable behavior.’

  ‘Trust me,’ Ava smiled slowly as Bunty set a cup of coffee down in front of her and took a seat opposite cradling her own cup, ‘I’ve seen worse.’

  ‘I must confess, I expected you to visit me days ago,’ she took a small sip.

  ‘I had some things to figure out,’ Ava replied.

  ‘Did you read your grandmother’s letter?’

  ‘I did,’ Ava frowned, ‘and I have to say Bunty it didn’t make a whole helluva lot of sense.’

  ‘And now you want to know what I know?’

  ‘You promised you would tell me and besides, I think I’ve earned the right to know. The house is mine now and I’m staying on the island permanently.’

  ‘Does that have something to do with Kelley Ryan?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘He’s not the sole reason,’ Ava replied carefully, ‘but he might have factored in, slightly.’

  ‘He’s a sweet boy,’ Bunty nodded, ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Bunty,’ Ava set her cup down. ‘Look, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m getting real frustrated with all the hints and dramatic warnings. I get that the house comes with a history and given the bodies we found I’d like to know what I’ve sighed up for.’

  ‘Very well,’ she sighed.

  Ava grabbed her notebook from her backpack and laid it on the table. Opening it up she slid the old-fashioned photo across to Bunty.

  ‘Do you know who they are?’

  Bunty’s mouth tightened into a disapproving line.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she nodded. ‘The boy is Peter Merrick, the gentleman is Jonathan Sedgewick and the woman… well, the young woman is Luella Lynch.’

  ‘Luella?’ Ava’s eyes widened as she took the photo back and studied it with renewed interest. ‘This is definitely Luella Lynch? The woman who everyone seems convinced is haunting the house?’

  ‘Yes,’ Bunty sipped her coffee again, ‘it’s definitely her.’ She stared at Ava for a few moments, tapping her nails against the cup. ‘Come with me.’

  She stood abruptly and disappeared through the doorway into the living room. Ava scooped up her notebook and the photo before following the other woman. She stepped into the living room and noticed several large file boxes stacked on and around the coffee table.

  ‘I had these brought out of storage the other day, just in case. There are more of course but these are the most important.’

  ‘What are they?’ Ava asked as she sat down on the couch beside Bunty.

  ‘They are the history of your family,’ she replied.

  ‘You mean the Lynch family?’

  ‘I mean your family,’ Bunty shook her head. ‘I’m not even sure where to start.’ She reached for one of the boxes and opened the lid. Deciding that wasn’t the one she wanted she checked a couple of others until she pulled a large heavy photo album from a box. ‘It took Hari a long time to track down all these photos from various sources and compile them into one comprehensive album.’

  She opened the first page, carefully peeling back the tissue paper separating the pages to reveal a large rectangular photograph in black and white of a tall, powerfully built gentleman with jet black hair and pure white streaks at his temples. He was immaculately dressed, with the chain of a pocket watch hanging across his waistcoat which immediately put Ava in mind of the pocket watch she’d been left by her mother, in which there was also a skeleton key to one of the hidden rooms.

  ‘That’s Ephraim Lynch, isn’t it?’ Ava whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ Bunty replied, ‘he’s always been where this sorry story begins.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she frowned.

  ‘You will,’ Bunty replied resignedly. ‘The Lynches were one of the wealthiest families on Midnight Island. Ephraim had a younger sister, Eloise, younger by a full decade. There were other siblings but due to infant mortality back then, none of them survived beyond childhood. That’s why there was such a big age gap between them. You’re descended from Eloise.’

  Ava settled back against the couch to listen as Bunty placed the album in her lap and turned the page, to reveal a photo, in sepia, of a sweet young girl of no more than maybe ten or twelve.

  ‘That’s her,’ Bunty pointed. ‘Very few pictures of her survived. This came from the Lynch house itself. Eloise was only fifteen years old when her parents died. She was left in the care of her older brother, but within months of her parents passing, Eloise ran away.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That was the big question, nobody seemed to know. By all accounts she was a happy child. Hari spent years searching records across New England before she finally managed to track her down. It seems that within six months of leaving Midnight island Eloise gave birth to an illegitimate daughter.’

  ‘She was pregnant?’ Ava’s eyes widened, ‘at fifteen?’

  Bunty nodded.

  ‘She was one of the lucky ones.’

  ‘How the hell was that lucky?’ Ava frowned.

  ‘Back in those days, unmarried mothers were a shame upon their families and society. She would’ve been classed as a fallen woman, even though she was barely more than a child herself. In most cases back then, and you have to remember this was the mid-19th century, the children were either taken from the mothers or the mothers were forced to give them up. A lot of the mothers themselves then ended up in a Poorhouse.’

  ‘What happened to her then? And to the child?’

  ‘Pure luck,’ Bunty shrugged, ‘or maybe fate stepped in. She went into labor on the streets with nowhere to go; a gentleman happened upon her and took pity. He’d recently lost his wife in childbirth. I don’t know, maybe it was this that caused an empathy for the girl who was obviously about to become a mother. He took her in and sent for the midwife. Once the child was born, instead of turning her out, he allowed her to stay and more unusually he allowed her to keep her child with her under his roof. In return she would nurse his youngest infant as well as her own and tend his three older children.’

  ‘She became a servant?’

  ‘In the beginning,’ Bunty replied. ‘Like I said she was one of the lucky ones. Not only was she able to keep her child but to find employment, you can’t imagine how rare that was. After a few years the gentleman moved away, and Eloise went with him. Hari lost track of them for about a dozen years or so. When she finally picked them up in the records again, Eloise was married to her gentleman, who had generously given her daughter his name. They then went on to have two more children of their own, in addition to his four children.’

  ‘So, who am I descended from?’ Ava wondered.

  ‘Her oldest child, her daughter whom she named Lottie.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who her father was?’ She watched as Bunty’s mouth tightened once again into that thin line of disapproval. ‘What?’

  ‘There was some unfortunate speculation that the child was fathered by her brother,’ she reluctantly admitted.

  ‘What?’ Ava’s eyes grew round, ‘are you telling m
e that I may ultimately be the product of incest?’

  ‘If you were, I doubt it was intentional on her part,’ Bunty muttered.

  ‘Are you saying that he forced her?’ Ava whispered in horror.

  ‘Okay let’s back up here, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. There was no way for Hari to find out for certain without modern genetic testing. The only way to do that would be to procure samples from Ephraim’s remains which are interred at Midnight cemetery. Which would mean exhuming his body, which can’t be done without special permission. Now, there has always been a lot of gossip about the Lynches over the years, and some of it is a matter of public record but the research Hari did, that I helped her with, was strictly private. None of the ladies of the historical society know the truth about the family. That was the way Hari wanted it and I respected her need for privacy. I mean, it’s hard to find out you may be descended from a woman who was born the product of rape and incest. If it is true, she certainly didn’t want it to become public knowledge.’

  ‘I don’t know how to feel about this,’ Ava sat back stunned and slightly nauseated.

  ‘There’s a lot more to the story,’ Bunty warned her. ‘Are you sure you want to know the truth?’

  Ava nodded slowly.

  ‘I guess there’s no backing out now.’

  Bunty leaned forward and turned the page of the album revealing a picture of Eloise, who was now much older, beside a gentleman. He was sitting, and she was resting her hand on his shoulder, his own hand placed atop hers affectionately. Beside them was a group of children, seven in all.

  ‘That is Sterling Harper, Eloise’s husband.’

  ‘He looks kind,’ Ava muttered.

  ‘I always thought so,’ Bunty nodded. ‘I try not to think of who Lottie’s true father might be. I prefer to think that Eloise was happy and that her husband was a good kind man, whom she learned to love and who loved her in return. It may not be true, but I like to think it is.’

  ‘Which one is Lottie?’

  Bunty pointed to a tall beautiful girl with jet black hair and dark eyes.

  ‘She was a beauty,’ Bunty murmured. ‘Can’t say the Lynches weren’t a handsome family, even if they were a bit twisted.’

  ‘What happened to her?’ Ava asked quietly her eyes studying the young girl.

  ‘She grew up,’ Bunty told her, ‘married a man by the name of Victor Wallace. She gave birth to a son they named Thaddeus and so on. In fact, it was Thaddeus’ son Louis who inherited the Lynch house some years after Luella and the children disappeared.’

  Ava glanced up at Bunty.

  ‘But again, I’m getting ahead of myself. Eloise ran away and married her gentleman, which left Ephraim alone on the island. He left the family home when he bought Talbot’s house. The original Lynch home was on the other side of the island, but it’s not there anymore. It was demolished sometime back in the fifties. Anyway, he moved into Talbot’s house where he lived alone for the next twenty years or so. Now, as I said before, the Lynches were always very wealthy, but Ephraim expanded that wealth exponentially. He was a rather talented watchmaker.’

  ‘A watchmaker?’ Ava repeated abruptly.

  ‘Yes dear,’ Bunty frowned, ‘I’m sure I’d mentioned that before. Anyway, his time pieces were so exquisite he was commissioned several times by European royalty to make bespoke items for them. Not just watches and clocks but he was also known for making dolls.’

  ‘Dolls?’ Ava frowned.

  ‘Mechanical dolls, automatons with intricate clockwork actions. He only ever made a few and they are very hard to get hold of, but…’

  She reached into another box and carefully lifted out the most breath-taking thing she’d ever seen. It was a young lady in a lavender gown, seated at a miniature harpsichord. Bunty wound it up with a brass key and the doll began to play, the haunting notes of the harpsichord surprisingly clear for its age.

  Ava leaned in closer and examined it. It was incredible; its fingers were actually moving in time to the keys and its delicate head moved from side to side as its tiny eyelids blinked.

  ‘He made this?’ Ava whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ Bunty nodded, ‘among other things. It’s said he made one of his automaton dolls for Queen Victoria herself.’

  Leaning over she turned the page to the next photograph.

  ‘Ah yes,’ she nodded when she saw which picture was next. ‘This is Clara Cooper, Ephraim’s wife. She was only sixteen, poor love and he was, at that point, in his forties.’

  Ava looked down at the photo and her stomach tightened. ‘She looks younger than sixteen,’ Ava swallowed uncomfortably. ‘She looks about twelve.’

  ‘Well she definitely was sixteen,’ Bunty nodded, ‘but very small for her age. You can see now why she didn’t survive the birth of her son.’

  ‘He certainly liked them young, didn’t he?’ Ava frowned. ‘Why did he marry her? I mean, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to care about an unwanted pregnancy. I would have expected him to just cast her aside.’

  ‘I expect he would’ve done,’ Bunty nodded, ‘if he could have, but the truth is her father was a local governor. It was only her social status that secured her a marriage, whether she wanted it or not. Although it wasn’t illegal, it caused a huge scandal at the time.’

  Ava stared down at the wedding photo of Ephraim and young Clara.

  ‘She doesn’t look unhappy,’ Ava noted, ‘she looks scared.’

  Bunty nodded.

  ‘Clara gave birth to Ephraim’s son, Edison.’

  Ava swallowed uncomfortably, thinking of the childish scrawl etched into the tiny, dark, hidden cupboard in the scullery. She was starting to piece together a picture of Ephraim Lynch and it wasn’t a pretty one.

  ‘During the time Edison was growing up in the house, he had a constant stream of nannies and wet nurses. Most of them never stayed long. Some of them, the older ones moved on to other employment but some… disappeared.’

  ‘Disappeared?’ Ava repeated quietly.

  ‘It’s a long story. I’m just giving you the highlights here; the information is all in these boxes. Hari spent most of her adult life researching everything she could about the Lynches and the house. In one of the boxes are copies of the employment ledgers. Ephraim was meticulous about keeping accounts. In one of them there are wages for several young girls, maids and nurses. They break off abruptly and then, later on, there were some fairly large payments to the families of those girls.’

  ‘Pay offs?’

  Bunty shrugged.

  ‘Supposition,’ she replied, ‘but its plausible.’

  ‘Do you think that the girls who went missing are the ones we found beneath the house?’ Ava asked a little sickly.

  ‘It does seem to fit doesn’t it?’ Bunty frowned, ‘but I couldn’t say for sure. However, moving on, Edison grew up and married a young woman by the name of Eleanor Williams. A sweet young thing of eighteen, a local girl who by all accounts Edison was madly in love with.’

  Ava glanced down at the photo album in her lap, skipping a couple more pages before Bunty reached out and stopped her, tapping her nail against a picture of a tall slim dark-haired man and a young woman.

  ‘That’s them,’ Bunty told her. ‘This is their wedding picture, it’s the only picture of them together. They married on the island and then left for the city. Edison had been offered what would have been considered a very prestigious, not to mention, well paid job at the time. They’d only been gone a short while when a tragic accident left Edison a cripple. They returned to Midnight and came to live in Ephraim’s house. It’s here that the story really begins.’

  ‘This Eleanor, gave birth to Luella, didn’t she?’ Ava cast her mind back to what she’d been told by the gossiping ladies of the historical society when she’d first arrived on the island. ‘Betty seemed to imply Edison wasn’t capable of fathering a child and that Luella was Ephraim’s, but there was no proof.’

  ‘There is proof,’ Bunty repl
ied quietly.

  ‘What?’ Ava whispered.

  Bunty rummaged in several of the boxes before she managed to retrieve a stack of handwritten letters tied with a piece of rough string.

  ‘Eleanor wrote to her sister,’ Bunty handed her the letters, ‘they’re heart breaking. Ephraim was a sadistic son of a bitch. He didn’t just rape her and force her to bear his child, he did it repeatedly. She was horribly abused under the roof of that man and he didn’t trouble to hide what he was doing from his son, knowing there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted to hurt Edison as much as he hurt Eleanor.’

  ‘That’s sick,’ Ava frowned.

  ‘Ephraim Lynch was a sick man,’ Bunty shook her head. ‘Eleanor gave birth to Luella, and there were several other births, almost one a year but none of those children survived, until Edward. He was born six years after Luella and died at a young age.’

  ‘Why didn’t Eleanor’s sister do anything? Why didn’t she help her?’

  ‘The letters never made it to her,’ Bunty replied. ‘They were found bound together in amongst Ephraim’s papers and ledgers. I suspect he intercepted them before they could leave the house.’

  ‘So much death and tragedy,’ Ava breathed quietly, ‘no wonder it feels so heavy inside the house.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Bunty looked at her sharply.

  ‘It’s probably just my imagination but sometimes when you step into the house the air feels heavy, buzzing almost and the hairs on your arms rise. It feels like static electricity.’

  ‘Ava,’ Bunty breathed heavily, ‘that house is cursed. Please, please give it up for your own sake.’

  ‘Why?’ Ava shook her head. ‘All of this is very sad and to be honest, really quite disturbing, but all of these people are long dead. It’s just a house.’

  ‘It’s never been just a house,’ Bunty murmured, her eyes worried. ‘Eleanor disappeared from all the records. She’s not buried in the cemetery with her husband and Hari could find no record of her death.’

  ‘That’s weird.’

  ‘Luella left home for a while and moved to the mainland, but eventually returned to Midnight, with a small boy, a foundling she said.’