D: Whitby's Darkest Secret

by Turnbull,Chris

  Alice continued talking to me about her children, five in total; the youngest being a little boy named Alfie who was turning one year old next month. I realised that Alice was a lot younger than most of the other women around the table, and despite her being nearly ten years older than myself, she must have been happy to have somebody within the group closer to her own age. Her husband did not speak much.

  I could not have been happier when dinner was finally over. Despite there being so many people sat around the table, it was Mr Harrold who could be heard above everybody else with his loud voice and even louder laugh. I imagined he could be heard in the next street. He spoke mostly of his work, but occasionally ventured onto other topics. His favourite seemed to be when he told Albert about Whitby’s whaling history and how he was descended from generations of sea captains all of whom were great whalers back in the day; and how he was the nonconformist for turning to politics instead. To look at Mr Harrold he did have a pirate look about him, with his large frame and even larger beard.

  With dinner finished the gentlemen retired into a separate room towards the back of the house, whilst Mrs Harrold, or Margaret as she insisted on being called, guided the ladies into a small sitting room located to the front of the house. I sat myself down in the window seat, and soon my hand was cradling yet another glass of wine. Not being familiar with any of the ladies, I was instantly the target for many questions. How did Albert and I meet? When did we get married? Do we have children I soon realised that despite being over two hundred miles away from home, the conversations between the women at these kinds of gatherings are all the same. Thankfully I managed to give such vague answers that they ultimately lost interest in me. Being friends they all broke off into various conversations in which I couldn’t make much contribution.

  It was getting late and Albert had still not come to collect me. I was getting tired and wanted to leave. I knew he would be in the other room with all the men, smoking, drinking and no doubt gambling. I stared out the window; the darkness was all that could be seen, as well as my refection off the glass.

  ‘Would you like a top up my dear?’ My attention from the window was disturbed by Margaret, she held in her hand a freshly opened bottle of wine, and before I could reject her offer she had already refilled my glass. I watched her walk away from me offering more wine to her other guests, and for a split second I was in my own little world, wishing amongst anything else that I was somewhere else, ideally my bed.

  I slowly turned back to the window, happy to continue in my own little world when my eyes met His. Only centimetres away from my own face on the opposite side of the glass, glaring back in at me… was the man from the pier. I screamed and jumped back in horror, dropping my glass on the floor; I stumbled back away from the window and tripped over the hem of my dress, before falling and banging my head against a small coffee table filled with empty wine glasses and landing in a heap on the floor.

  Chapter 20

  D.

  After the close encounter at the ruins I decided to keep my distance for the remainder of the day. I needed to think of a way to see her again, with her husband out of the way.

  I made my way to the west cliff side of town where I intended to spend the rest of the day. It was very rare I came to this side of the town.

  The wind was picking up as afternoon turned into evening and clouds of sand blew from the beach below, causing my eyes to water and sting in pain. The cold winter chill coming from the North Sea was bitter and had people fleeing for the warmth of their homes.

  I watched in the dimming light as the wild tide crashed against the coastline, and I soon found myself seated in the dark looking out towards the sea that was no longer visible through vast darkness, yet the sound of the waves could still be heard.

  The night time brings with it a new kind of atmosphere that arouses me; the stillness of the night allows me the peace and quiet I crave. Consumed by my own thoughts I am safe in the knowledge that I will not be disturbed. Even the large gulls that dominate the skies and echo their ear splitting call throughout the town are now gone for the night, I am in complete silence.

  Suddenly the calm was broken by the sound of horse hooves clattering against the cobbled road. I turned to see a single horse drawn carriage coming towards me, a small lamp fixed upon it guiding them through the murky streets. I instantly recognised the driver as young Tom. My heart suddenly began to race and my eyes widened in anticipation; was it her? Had she travelled over to the west cliff?

  I watched as they passed me by, unaware of my presence as I lingered within the shadows. I look on as they continued down the street, and I began to follow, keeping my distance, eager to know if my Victoria was in fact inside.

  The carriage pulled up outside a grand row of houses, and immediately her husband emerged from the carriage, followed gracefully by her. I had purposely come to this side of town to avoid any temptation surrounding her, and here she was before me once again. Fate has brought her to me. He is giving me a sign that I am right, she needs to be claimed for my own, she needs to be set free from the monster she calls her husband.

  I watched as they walked up to the door and headed inside. She looked as beautiful as ever.

  Tom quickly pulled the horse to the end of the street and climbed inside the carriage, awaiting their return. I could not help myself but sit myself upon an opposing wall and wait. I longed to see her again, and I began to wonder if I would be able to steal her away tonight.

  It was quite some time later when a light appeared in the front living room, and suddenly there she was sitting upon the window, resembling the most beautiful mannequin London had to offer. Her skin soft and smooth, her lips luscious red and her hair pinned up with a delicate clip, she gleamed in the light; how I longed to touch her. Her beauty was beyond anything I had seen before. How I have longed to find a woman as beautiful as her, not only on the outside, but on the inside. I needed to show her that I too was just as beautiful on the inside, and that we were destined to be together. Her husband could never love her as much as I do. My desire to touch her was great, but my longing to keep her was much greater.

  I continued gazing at her for what seemed the longest of times, and after a while she too looked out of the window, her eyes looking longingly in my direction. I was almost certain she was smiling at me. She turned back to the room, distracted by one of the other women. Without hesitation I crossed the road and climbed the stone steps, leaning over towards the window in which she sat. I was so close to her that I could almost smell her enchanting aroma, my face just inches from her own. At that moment she turned and looked me directly in the face. She jumped and screamed, causing me to lose my balance on the window’s ledge and fall backwards, landing at the bottom of the steps in a heap. I quickly got to my feet and headed back across the street where I knew I would be hidden within the darkness. I could no longer see her in the window.

  Chapter 21

  Victoria

  I woke to find Albert knelt over me; Margaret was fanning me with a large lace fan she had been carrying with her the entire evening. The remaining ladies were all huddled around me like chickens, trying to see what was happening. I leaned into Albert’s chest, my face burning up with embarrassment.

  ‘Take me back,’ I whispered to him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, and without a moment’s hesitation Albert helped me to my feet, quickly thanked Mr Harrold for his hospitality, and led me towards the door. Albert did not even stop to put on his coat as he handed me my hat, put his own scarf around my shoulder and guided me through the doorway and back into the silence of the night.

  The moment we emerged back onto the street Albert let out a loud whistle, and before I knew it Tom was pulling the horses alongside the house once more. I walked down the stone steps with caution. I was still slightly dazed and the fresh cold air began to make me feel light headed. Albert refused to let go of my hand until I was back inside the carriage, and Tom held open the door for me. Despite being within
the safety of the carriage I was still wary of my surrounding. He was out there somewhere, and I had no way of knowing just how close he was.

  I could hear my heart beating so fast that I nearly missed Albert speaking to me. My breathing had become heavier as I realised the state of panic I was still in. I was shaking, and not just from the cold. The carriage had barely moved when Albert began asking questions.

  ‘What happened back there, V?’ His voice was filled with concern, his eyes piercing my own in a desperate bid to know the truth. I sat in silence. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. My body continued to shake, and I could no longer hide the quivering of my lips as I tried hard to fight back any tears. Albert saw straight through this pretence and pulled me in once more, his large arms embraced me as I burst into tears.

  Could I really tell him the truth? Or would he just think I was just overreacting? Or worse going crazy?

  By the time we had arrived back at the White Horse and Griffin and I had managed to dry my tears. After a quick thank you to Tom I dashed as quickly as possible into the inn and up the creaky wooden staircase towards our room, Albert following closely behind.

  I barely spoke the remainder of the night as we got ourselves ready for bed. Albert was clearly worried about me and insisted that I tell him what had happened. However I avoided the conversation at all costs and got myself tucked up in bed.

  Albert held me close in silence, he eventually gave up asking me what had happened, but I could tell it was only to allow me some rest. I knew the conversation was likely to be raised again in the morning. As we lay there in the silence, my own thoughts raced around and around. My head began to hurt and I felt sick.

  Suddenly a low rumbling noise stopped my thoughts dead in their tracks. It was Albert snoring.

  Chapter 22

  D.

  I watched as Victoria was escorted out of the house and back into the carriage. I emerged back onto the road and watched as the carriage pulled out of the street and out of view.

  Anger overcame me and I threw off my hat, tossing it to the ground in rage. She was gone again. I sat on the roadside for a moment next to my hat, feeling defeated once more.

  At that moment something on the ground caught my eye. It was a lady’s glove. I carefully picked it up and held it in my hand; I could still feel the warmth from it as though her delicate hand were still within it. She must have been holding them and dropped one in the rush to get out of the cold and into the cab. I placed the glove over my own hand, and realized her nimble little hand would fit perfectly within my palm.

  I lifted the glove to my face and took in the scent of her. The aroma of her glove filled my nostrils and warmed me inside. I could picture her face perfectly in my mind, her smile so warm and inviting.

  Time was beginning to run out if I was to ever free her from the wrong man. I needed to act fast before she headed home. I did not know when exactly she planned to leave Whitby. Tomorrow was St Valentine’s day, the perfect day to claim her for my own.

  Chapter 23

  Victoria

  Wednesday 14th February 1900

  St Valentine’s Day

  I was woken abruptly by a loud crash; it was Albert trying to surprise me with a tray of breakfast, although now its contents were spread along the floor of the bedroom. I abruptly sat up in bed, startled by the sudden outburst of noise and burst into laughter at the sight of what was supposed to be a romantic gesture. Albert’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as my laughter gradually got worse. My eyes began to water and I held my stomach through the pain of laughter. Albert eventually smirked at my hysteria and soon found himself laughing too.

  With my laughter finally under control I jumped out of bed and began helping to clear up the mess. Somehow the large china teapot had gone unharmed, and very little tea had escaped the spout; the two china cups had bounced under the bed, yet surprisingly were still in one piece. However the same could not be said for the bowl of porridge; the bowl had cracked and the porridge had landed in a heap on the floor, some had even managed to splatter against the bottom of the bed covers. A plate once filled with bacon had smashed, and the bacon pieces had tumbled across the floor landing beside the small heap of ash below the fireplace. There was also a single red rose that had been sitting on the silver tray, this too had taken a harsh fall and now laid on the floor snapped in half and its petals bent.

  ‘I’m sorry for waking you so abruptly darling,’ Albert’s voice was filled with genuine regret.

  ‘Not to worry.’ I said whilst pouring a cup of tea for each of us.

  ‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’ He held out the snapped rose towards me, the flower bent back on itself and resting against Albert’s wrist, I immediately laughed again.

  We had never really celebrated Valentine’s Day, so breakfast in bed with a single red rose was certainly an unexpected surprise. I had made Albert promise me on the lead up to our first Valentines not to get me anything lavish, as he very rarely needed an opportunity to buy me something, and that simple gestures were more appreciated. To this day he has kept his word and I am always grateful for allowing the day to pass.

  With the bedroom finally in a clean state once more, we both settled back on top of the bed covers with our cups of tea.

  ‘I have a gift for you.’ Albert confessed, looking amused with himself.

  ‘I thought we agreed no gifts?’ Albert’s face only but lit up more in the pleasure of surprising me. He leapt from the bed and headed for the wardrobe, a smile splashed across his face the entire way. He began to rummage through one of his jacket pockets, and quickly pulled out a long, thin, square box. He handed it to me quickly. He did not speak but looked at me playfully, like a schoolboy who had just received a gold star. There was a sparkle in his eyes and a hint of cheekiness in his smile.

  ‘I hope you like it,’ he said as I began to inspect the fairly large yet thin box; it was black leather with a small clasp on top holding it closed. I released the clasp and the top of the box opened up like two small double doors, revealing the hidden surprise inside.

  I gasped when I saw its content; it was the most beautiful Whitby Jet necklace I had ever seen. The delicate black oval beads shimmered within the box, and a large tear shaped pendant hung at the bottom, its deep black texture hard and strong as I lifted it from the box, yet not cold to the touch as I had expected. It caught the light beautifully giving it a silky soft appearance.

  ‘This is too much,’ I finally said. ‘Albert it is beautiful.’ He did not speak, but smiled warmly at me, clearly pleased with himself.

  I soon began looking through my many dresses, trying to decide which would show off my new necklace the best. I finally decided on my black day dress; with its slightly lower neckline and laced edges I knew the necklace would sit perfectly against it.

  ‘What would you care to do today?’ I asked Albert as we continued to get ourselves ready. He looked up at me sheepishly from the desk he was now perched at.

  ‘I’m sorry, V, I have been invited to another meeting at lunchtime to attend, and probably won’t get back until late afternoon.’ He genuinely looked rather upset as he told me this, yet I still could not hide the misery from my face.

  ‘I will make it up to you tomorrow; it is our last full day before we head home on Friday, so we will make sure to do something fun that you want to do.’

  I did not reply; I just sat on the edge of the bed avoiding his eye contact. I knew he would do something like this; how could he call this a late honeymoon when he was going off to various meetings the entire trip?

  It wasn’t long until Albert had left, and I was again alone in our room wondering what to do with myself. After the events of last night I found myself hesitant to leave the Inn. I had managed to brush the conversation aside and kept Albert from knowing what really happened, despite him trying to ask on numerous occasions. Who was this man that kept appearing? Our first encounter seemed relevantly normal, if you could call it that, for he walked m
e back to the inn when it was dark and was a perfect gentleman. Not once during that short walk did I feel threatened or intimidated by him. Maybe it was my imagination playing tricks on me; maybe I was over thinking the whole thing.

  I decided I would take my library book and find a nice quiet spot to read outside, at the same time getting some much needed fresh air. Despite the bedroom being nice, it did feel a little cramped and stuffy after a while. I was certainly in the need of some air.

  Upon leaving the inn I ran straight into young Tom who was on his way inside to see Mr Walker.

  ‘Beg yer pardon, Miss,’ he said ‘I hope I didn’t startle ya.’

  I smiled warmly at him.

  ‘Good morning Tom, how are you today?’

  ‘Very well thank ya Mrs Summers, headed anywhere in particular Miss?’ he asked with genuine interest.

  ‘I thought I would take a walk and find a quiet spot to read my book.’

  ‘May I recommend a place?’ His eyes lit up as though excited to tell me.

  ‘Of course,’ I replied, eager to know where he would send me.

  ‘If tha continues along Church Street, tha come’s to a small street just past’d 199 steps. It leads down towards East pier, but before you go down to the pier there’s a bench that overlooks the harbour entrance. It’s rare folk go that way as there are no shops, but the view of the piers is one of the best,’ he explained.

  ‘Thank you Tom, I may have to investigate this bench, sounds like just the spot I’m looking for.’ And with that he wished me a pleasant day and hurried on inside.

  Church Street was again busy, full of people of all ages going about their everyday lives. The atmosphere in town this morning was cheerful, and, as ever, many people I did not know wished me a good morning as I passed them. Whitby was indeed the friendliest place I had ever visited.