by Apryl Baker
Maybe I will wear my best black dress to the wedding in protest.
1784, June 3
I begged and pleaded, but to no avail. I am now a married woman to a husband I despise. There is something about him that scares me. It is the look in his eyes when he stares at me. I have a suspicion that he enjoys pain and my father just handed me over to him without so much as a second thought.
I was not even given time to say goodbye to my mother after the ceremony before I was hustled away from my home and on board a ship. Our destination is a mystery to me as my new husband did not see fit to share it with me before stealing me away from my home.
Mother refused to speak to me of what is to happen tonight. She said I would get through it. Her advice was to close my eyes and think of something else. She offered no comfort to me, her only child. She did not even see me off when we left. Only our housekeeper bore witness to my departure. None of the other servants could even look at me without pity. Do they know something I do not about my husband? They must if they could only stare at me in pity for the last few weeks.
The ship cast off hours ago, but I have yet to even see my husband. He has abandoned me to our cabin. Perhaps he will fall overboard and I will not have to perform any “wifely duties,” as my mother calls it. I have a general idea of what will transpire tonight. I have often eavesdropped on the housemaids chatting about their romps with various men.
I hear footsteps outside our cabin. I dread what is coming even as I know I cannot escape it.
1784, June 4
It was even more awful than I had imagined. Mother’s advice did no good. It hurt and my darling husband enjoyed my pain. When I cried, Jonas merely laughed. He told me that he would always do his best to make it as painful for me as possible. I am wed to a cruel man. How could my parents have done me such a horrid disfavor? They’ve given me to a man who will spend his years tormenting me. How am I to bear this?
We are heading for a city named New Orleans. Jonas has a home there and assures me there is a higher class of society than the barbaric Americans who live to the north. Creoles, he calls them, a mixture of Spanish and French citizens, have developed a very sophisticated society in the budding city.
Despite his assurances, I am nervous. I have heard so many stories of the wilderness and of the Indians’ brutality. The Americans pose a threat as well. They have proven to be quite ruthless in their bid for freedom from Great Britain. Some of the war stories we have been regaled with makes me shudder even now.
I am expected to live in an unknown place with no friends or family with a husband who delights in torturing me. How have I ended up here in this place? Did I do something to upset God? Is he punishing me for some unnamed offense?
I wish that I knew.
1784, June 29
We have arrived and the house is beautiful. The architecture is a gorgeous blending of French and Spanish influences. I cannot even begin to describe how breathtaking the mansion is. It’s also unsettling. It is hard to properly explain this feeling. Jonas tells me I am being childish and to act like the grown woman I am.
Am I behaving like a child? Everywhere I go, I feel as if I am being watched. There are noises in the house as well. Sometimes I swear I can hear footsteps where there are none. Jonas says it’s the house settling. It was built only four years ago and there is still a lot construction going on. The plantation requires a lot of people to run it and Jonas is building housing for the people who work the fields.
Then there is this atrocious smell that appears at the oddest of times. Its odor is quite foul. The cook has come across it as well and says it smells of rotten eggs. If she can smell it, then surely it can be proven to Jonas? He is adamant in his vocal opinions of my fears. It is of no consequence to him.
Jonas has taken to berating me verbally in front of the staff. It makes me feel so inadequate. Nothing I do is the proper thing. He says I embarrass him in front of his friends with my lack of training in how to run a household and entertain his guests.
I attended the very best finishing schools in France. I know how to flawlessly run a household, but when Jonas begins his tirade, it all escapes me. I feel useless, and worse, the staff are beginning to whisper and laugh at me when they think I am not looking. I am humiliated and all alone.
Jonas refuses to let me attend any functions the women in town hold. He says it is useless nonsense and I would do better idling my time at attempting to learn how to be a proper a wife. He allows me to have no friends or companions. When we host parties, he keeps me planted to his side. None of the other women have even attempted friendships with me. They are cold and disdainful. I suspect it is Jonas’s doing. What has he told their husbands about me?
I feel dreadfully alone out here, cut off from everyone. Each day becomes harder than the last to believe that I am not as Jonas says I am. He calls me weak, useless, and pathetic. Some days, I believe it myself. How much longer can I go on like this?
1784, July 9
He struck me today. My eye is swollen and black. He struck me.
1784, July 23
Jonas is angry with me as I have not yet began to increase with his child. He swears that if I am barren he will have me killed and thrown into the swamp. He is serious. I can see the intent in his eyes.
I have done my duties every night and listened to him laugh as I cried. What more can I do? I cannot force his seed to take root. Nor do I wish to die, either. The cook, Nettie, is my only friend here. I think I shall speak with her on the matter as I have no one else. I understand that ladies are not to form bonds with the help, but as they are all the company Jonas allows, then I will do as I must.
1784, July 28
I am torn asunder. What Nettie suggests is blasphemous, but what choice do I have? He has already beaten me once. If he does it again, I am not sure I can survive it. Jonas enjoys causing me pain, any sort of pain. He reveled in my cries of agony.
What Nettie suggests is just as terrible. I know it is wrong to even consider it, that I endanger my very soul, but what else am I to do? I have prayed and prayed for guidance, but even God has forsaken me in my hour of need.
There is a price for this, as well. The price is steep, frighteningly so, but my choices are few. Nettie has been with Jonas for over twenty years. In all that time, he has never sired a child. She informs me that Jonas always blames the woman, that it never ends well for them. I am his fifth wife. If I do this, I will be free of Jonas, but bound to something that could be far worse.
What should I do?
1784, August 10
It took me a week to recover. The beating was so severe, I lay abed for days. Nettie says that several of my ribs were broken which is why I had such difficulty breathing. She was concerned I would not live through that first night.
Jonas’s anger knows no bounds. I tripped and spilled his tea. For that I was beaten to within an inch of my life. I cannot do this anymore. I will not.
I have asked Nettie to arrange a meeting. I will speak to him.
1784, August 19
His name is Silas. His eyes are a deep black, but I can see the fires of hell in them. Jonas makes me fear for my life, Silas makes me fear for my soul. I know what he is, but I am drawn to him anyway. Mayhap that is the lure of this unnatural attraction. I know I mustn’t, but I know I will. Nettie is concerned I have not strength to refuse him anything. I have made no promises, no deals and already he owns me.
Butterflies dance in my stomach when he looks at me and fire races through my veins when he kisses me. His kiss is everything I have ever dreamed of. Nettie tells me I am in lust, but I think I am in love. God help me if that is true, for I know what the outcome is going to be.
He promises me an end to the pain and humiliation at Jonas’s hands, but dare I do it? I will be condemning my own soul if I do this. If I make this deal with him, I will garner everything I have ever wanted and dreamed of and Jonas will never harm me or another woman ever again.
But if I
do this, I am damning myself, my children, my grandchildren. For everything I can gain for them, they will be forever cursed, forever damned. Can I do that to them?
1784, September 3
The smell has returned to the house. Jonas has gotten even more secretive, secluding himself in his study for days at a time. There are strange and unsettling noises that come from his study when he is in there, the doors locked. I have even seen bright flickers of light. What is he doing?
I am so unsettled that I jump at every sound. I feel as if I am being watched when no one is there. Sounds keep me up at night. Sometimes I think it is my own guilty conscience that makes me hear these things. I have committed a sin against my husband. I gave in to Silas, and despite all the pleasure gained from that encounter, I cannot shake the guilt of what I have done.
Sometimes I think Jonas knows about my indiscretion. It is the way he looks at me when he thinks I am not aware of it. He gives me a very calculating look, as if he is gambling with my fate himself. Perhaps he has found out and is planning my demise. Mayhap I will find myself thrown into the swamp, left for the animals to feed on my bones.
I sound so very maudlin these days. I am tired, weak, and very disheartened. It is hard for me to get up each morning, but I do it with Nettie’s help. There are days I yearn for my death, for an escape from this world, the pain of each day.
I do not understand this malady I am suffering from. It has worsened this week. I found myself staring down from the attic window this morning contemplating how fast my life would end if I just fell. This is not me, but I cannot shake this melancholy. I wish Silas would return to me. He is my only solace. When I am with him, this dreaded feeling goes away. Why is that?
Mayhap Nettie will know what is wrong with me. I shall ask her this eve.
1784, September 22
I have done it, I have damned us all. My prayers have gone unanswered and I had no choice. I overheard Jonas speaking with someone in his study. The other voice, it was vile and it grated on the ears. He was going to kill me for it, to cement his everlasting life.
Before meeting Silas, I would have scoffed at the thought of what Jonas planned. I would never have believed it possible, but now, now I know what he planned for me was very real. I had to save myself if God would not. I made my deal with Silas.
Jonas will require care until the day he dies, but that can be arranged. I have a child growing within me, have had it since that first night with Silas. No one will ever suspect Jonas is not my son’s father.
Jonas’s body has turned on him. He is trapped inside, unable to speak or move. Death will be a mercy visited upon him. His mind is fully functional, though. He glares at me in hatred every time I walk into the room. I told him about the baby, that he was not the father. I don’t know why I did. Perhaps to seek retribution for all that he has put me through these many months. It is of no matter. There is nothing he can do to harm me ever again.
1784, November 11
I am beginning to increase with the child that grows under my heart. Nettie is afraid of the babe growing within me. The original deal was never for it to be Silas’s child, but for Jonas to be able to sire a child. I am glad my son will not have Jonas’s blood running through his veins. The man is evil. His body grows weaker every day even as my son grows stronger. Soon his life will sputter out and we will be rid of him forever. It is a day I look forward to.
1784, December 3
I accepted condolences from the city as I stood in the cemetery today. Jonas passed from this world two days ago. I must pretend to be sad, but inside I am laughing. I know ‘tis wrong, but I cannot help myself. After all the pain and torture I endured at his hands, I am grateful he is gone. No, I am full of joy and happiness he is out of our lives for good.
The plantation is doing well under Mr. Moore’s supervision. Our attorney made the arrangements for me and all I have to do is receive the reports once a month on how the property is prospering. I have made several new friends amongst the Americans, of all people. The Creoles snubbed me, thanks to Jonas, so I went out and forged my own friendships. These Americans are remarkable people, not at all the barbarians they were painted in England. The women have welcomed me into their inner circle and I am so grateful to have friends here.
Since that awful day in England, my life has been one unhappy event after another, one struggle after another, and now things are starting to look up. Once Jonas was unable to speak, my melancholy disappeared. I believe he was responsible for it and once he was unable to influence me, the feeling departed.
Thank you, Silas, for giving me everything I could ever want.
1785, February 9
Several of the servants have fled. I cannot blame them. We are being stalked within the house. It is the only way I can describe it. The odor permeates every orifice in the house and we cannot escape the strange occurrences. Footsteps run up and down the stairs. Candles go out at the oddest of times. The kitchens have been plagued by one horror after another. Three of the staff have died due to accidents. Nettie is even thinking of leaving me. She says our house has been infested. I tell her that is nonsense, but deep down I think she may be right.
Jonas was dealing with demons, but so was I. We invited evil into our home. We opened it up for a possession. What are we to do to combat it?
1785, May 23
It has been so long since I had the strength of will to put thought to paper. My son was born just moments ago. I have named him Jonathan Nathanial Sinclair, although I am sure his new family will change it. I held him for but a few seconds and then sent him and Nettie away from this cursed house. She promised to see him taken care of. I hired an attorney to make all the arrangements and ensured Nettie could stay with my son. She is terrified of him, but she will keep him safe. She swore it to me. Wherever you go, my beautiful boy, you will be safe.
We discovered the presence stalking us was Jonas. His spirit walks these halls and I know without any hesitation he would have murdered my child. He has made several attempts to cause his death before Jonathan was ever born. There were several close calls.
I am dying. The birthing was hard on me and I am bleeding too much. The doctor says there is nothing he can do. I am using the last of my strength to warn anyone who enters this cursed ground to flee, run fast from here.
Jonas will never leave this place and inflict pain upon its residents for an eternity. He has truly cost me everything.
Do not let him do the same to you.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I close the journal softly and look up. The guys are still whispering in the far corner of the library, unaware of the journal I’ve discovered. I will bet anything that my soul sucking ghost is Jonas. It makes sense if he made a deal with a demon. I shake my head. Deals with demons? It sounds ridiculous. Can demons do that? Appear human and make a deal to damn your soul in return for something you want more than anything?
In Elizabeth’s situation, I can almost agree with her. If I were helpless and in her shoes, I might have done the same thing. Women who lived in the 1700s were considered chattel, the property of their husbands. They had no rights to speak of and in some cases were badly abused by their husbands. Poor Elizabeth. I can almost feel her pain just in the words she wrote. Her handwriting told her story. She went from angry, to sad and confused, then to desperate. It’s a feeling I’m all too familiar with.
Reading her story makes me think of all the things I have felt since I woke up in this house. Both Elizabeth and her husband were dealing with demons. Is that why she experienced what she did in the house? I think I remember Doc saying something about demonic infestation in one of his lectures I’d attended. There were three stages I think, but what?
“Doc?” I ask, my voice loud in the hushed whispers going on around me.
Instantly all eyes are on me, worried and concerned.
“Yes, Mattie?” Doc looks the most worried about me except for maybe Dan. Doc understands this gift so much better than I do, s
o maybe he knows there’s a reason to be worried. At this point, I don’t care. I just want the ghost responsible for killing Eric to pay a thousand times over.
“Didn’t you say there were stages when it came to demons and human activity?”
“Yes.” He nods slowly. “Infestation, oppression, and possession. Why?”
“Does the third stage have to be possession or could it just be a demon lurking about looking to make a deal?”
“How do you know about deals, Mattie?” Mr. Malone asks. “That isn’t common knowledge. Only humans who’ve made deals and my kind know about it.”
I handed him the journal and gave him a quick outline of what was in it. “I think they both made deals, but if the demon moved on, then why does the house still mimic the stages of activity?”
“Hold up.” Eli frowns at me. “Out of every book in this frickin' library, you pick up the one that talks about deals?”
Dan laughs. “She’s really good at this stuff. I keep telling her she’ll make a great cop when she graduates.”
“In your dreams, Officer Dan.” I scowl at him. “You’ve seen my rap sheet. Police stations and I don’t mix very well.”
“You’ve got a rap sheet?” Eli grins. “Well, now, I think you just got a whole lot more interesting, Hilda.”
“What did I tell you about calling me Hilda?” I ask through clenched teeth. I can deal with anger so much better than grief.
“Mattie,” Doc interrupts Eli before he can stick his foot further in his mouth. “The journal you found belongs to the wife of the original owner of the house. He had it built about a year before he married her. Everything going on with this house started with them.”
