by Jill Harris
Inside, her boots clacked on the stone floor. The hall was a semi-circle the size of a ballroom. At the back there were corridors leading off to the right and left, presumably towards the east and west wings. At the top of the wide staircase, a large stained-glass window depicted a raven on the shoulder of a dragon being petted by an angelic being of indeterminate sex.
Cold draughts of wind whirled through the unheated hall. Her breath misted in the dimly lit air.
At far end, to the left of the staircase, was a fireplace in which a few embers burned. If anything, it was colder inside the house than it had been in the carriage. She could feel the ends of her fingers going numb.
"We were expecting you this morning," the thin man said.
The hall was lit by a giant electric light chandelier. It hung low enough to throw a glowing orange circle over a mosaic on the floor.
Adeline looked down, admiring the composition of the mosaic. A single human-like person with wings, and two heads, one male, one female. Circling the winged two-headed person was a dragon eating its own tail.
On the advice of Aunt Theodora, Adeline had studied several volumes on ancient alchemy before coming to nurse the Captain. According to her cousin, Miss Eleonora Hardy, the Captain"s family had an abiding and unhealthy interest in the occult. Adeline"s studies had given her some knowledge, and she knew that the image on the floor represented the sacred marriage of masculine and feminine. The hieros gamos.
A symbol of the inner dual masculine and feminine nature of each person - combined and transformed by the primal forces of nature.
Nature, Adeline thoughts, as represented by the dragon.
She was rather pleased to have remembered this information, and wondered if it might offer some clue as to the mental attitude of her patient.
Who knew what the effect might be of living with such a stark reminder of the mystical inner world?
Chapter 6
The weather was difficult," Adeline said. "That is why I arrived later in the day than expected."
"Don't get me wrong. I don"t mean to speak out of turn, Miss Winslow," he said. "You've come here in good faith. There's some as says you've a distant relation in the town, so you're one of us by blood, and by right. For this reason, I'll tell you straight. This ent no place for a woman. By that I mean, you should be careful. In fact, it would be better if you turned round right now, and made your way back to London."
She was expecting him to say more. But he stopped. So she continued in his stead. "No, I don't mind you saying so," she said. "And indeed, Miss Hardy is a distant cousin, thrice removed. It was she who wrote to me about the possibility of coming here to take care of the Captain. But I"m intrigued to discover why you think I should leave immediately?"
He shook his head. "There's things I can speak of. And things I can't. We've a tradition of strange occurrences in Templesea. Not that I've a mind to say too much. I'm speaking of the sort of occurrences that do cause alarm to outsiders of a delicate nature. You might not believe in demons or ghosts, and suchlike, and so forth. But that don't mean you've got a moppets notion what goes on down here."
"I assure you sir, I am not a moppet with notions. Nor do I have a delicate nature. And you are right. I don't believe in demons, ghosts or suchlike. Or so forth."
He made a tutting noise with his lips. "Be that as it may, mistress. But that don't change nothing. Truth be told, there's also the problem of Raven's Nest House itself. You see, we're very high up on the cliff with a sheer drop. You'll have noticed that we"re almost toppling into the sea below. And let me tell you straight, the waters round here have deadly currents. They can suck a man under before he"s a chance to notice he"s drowning. And the path is treacherous too. If you fall over the edge you'll be dashed to pieces on the rocks. That's a bad situation for a gentlewoman. That's why I feel it's my duty to warn you now. Give you time to change your mind and leave."
"I might be small of stature, but I'm known for having a strong constitution," she said. "And I have no intention of recklessly falling to my death."
Adeline refrained from mentioning the fact that she didn't have a good head for heights, hoping her steadfast cheerfulness would prevent further discussion of such things.
But the thin man persisted, warming to his subject and rubbing his hands together. "Strong or not. We get sea mists that come down in a moment. Girt men who've always been surefooted have been known to fall from just outside yon gates. And never seen no more."
Adeline felt her mouth go dry. Ever since a childhood fall from an apple tree she"d struggled with fits of vertigo.
Nevertheless, she set her chin high, wondering if all guests at Raven"s Nest were reminded not to fall to their deaths as a general curtesy.
She supposed they were. "I will remain ever vigilant on the path whenever I decide to venture into town. Thank you so much for pointing that out."
"And I'm sorry to say it. But there's worse deaths than the long drop into the water." He glanced over his shoulder at the shadows. "See, there's more living here than the living, if you catch my notion. No point beating around the bush. This is a dark, and ugly place. Full of the things in the shadows. Things that creep into your mind, and won't let you go. Only last month, a footman died of a nightmare. He were found with his mouth open in a fearful mask of horror. Like he"d seen summit so awful it stopped his heart."
"I see. Well, history has a way of leaving its mark on a building. And stories have a way of becoming a little, how shall I put it? Exaggerated? A heart condition is something many men are born with."
"Ent no exaggeration. Lord, but I wish it were. You should know that this is the most haunted house in the whole of England."
"Is that right?"
"It is. Ghosts or demons? Only God knows what it is that stalks out of the sea, or the walls or the pits of hell to come for us at night. And the darkness loves to feast upon such a lovely young lady as yourself. More than I can speak of. If you catch my meaning."
She didn't catch his meaning but was certain that he"d be happy to continue attempting to scare her, and if she wasn't possessed of an incredibly sensible attitude to life, she may have turned round and gone screaming back to London as fast as her well-laced boots would carry her. Not that that was an option anyway. But still. His attitude was making her more determined to stay and help the Captain, who seemed surrounded by at least one lunatic. "I've no idea what you're talking about. Is there anything else? An explosive device in my bedroom, perhaps?"
He gave that some thought. "Not to my knowledge, Miss Winslow."
"Then I shall go about my daily business as always. Rest assured you need not concern yourself on my behalf. For I'm not given to flights of fancy or visitations from beyond the grave or the pits of hell."
The thin manservant looked up at the chandelier questioningly, as if it held all the answers he sought, then back at Adeline. He heaved his shoulders in a shrug. "It isn't just the apparitions. You'll also have to mind the Captain, Miss Winslow. Your patient. They say he"s one of those what actually died like so many in the Charge of the Light Brigade. Who knows what revived him? Some say he made a pact with the devil. And I've half a mind to think that"s exactly what he did. He's not the boy who left this house ten years ago, that"s for sure. Those of us who've known him since his wicked parents were alive are all agreed on that. Our young Mr Branwell come home with evil looking over his shoulder, and no mistake."
"One can only guess that if in fact he did cease breathing for a few moments - it was divine providence brought him to life again."
Adeline was beginning to wonder whether the Captain was aware his manservant went about saying he"d made a pact with the devil. Her mind raced back over everything her cousin in the village had told her, but nothing about the Captain seemed to stand out. Apart from the fact that he'd been described as "having Bohemian leanings".
"Mebbe. Yet when he returned home, the thing what crippled him..."
He fell silent.
Adeline heaved a great sigh. She didn't believe a word of it. Yet this was work and therefore she was forced by circumstance to stand there in the freezing hallway listening to superstitious nonsense when she longed to get to her room and loosen her corset. "Do go on."
"Well, it left him bad. His wounds, you see. They go deep."
"Deep wounds are a speciality of mine."
"Perhaps. But they"re not just on the outside you see," he tapped his head."He isn"t all there. If you know what I mean. It"s in the family too. His father should have been shipped to Bedlam and no mistake. A cruel man, driven by the creeping things what come by day and by night, just as I told you afore. As for his mother, well, what can I tell you? A poor soul she was and there"s many felt sorry for her. But she kept bad company. Some say she was a witch. Some say the Captain was swapped at birth by the fairy folk."
Adeline"s previous misgivings about the household had just climbed to a dizzying peak. Perhaps the manservant was creating problems for her patient. His general demeanour would probably create sickness in the most robust person if his was the only company one kept over a long period of time.
She really would have to ask Miss Hardy for some more details about the Captain. Often, to find out the truth about a person, one had to look at the things which people didn't say, rather than focusing too much on what they did.
And depending on her her cousin, Miss Hardy's reply, Adeline might also ask if she could stay for a few days at the cottage in the town.
It might be that the thin servant's assessment of Captain Hughes was close to reality and in that case, the man may well turn out to be some kind of monster.
Chapter 7
Adeline went over in her mind everything her cousin had told her about Captain Hughes’ early life. As far as she could ascertain, the Captain"s childhood was both unusual, and disturbing.
His mother was a notorious medium.
Adeline glanced at the ceiling. That would be enough to disturb any small boy.
According to reports from the servants, Mrs Hughes conducted seances in the parlour at Raven"s Nest. She was a sophisticated woman, albeit a person reported to be a little touched in the head. Her methods were her own. The seances attracted the great and the good from all over Europe, and although she put on one hell of a show, she wasn't the table-tapping type.
Instead, Mrs Hughes specialised in ectoplasm.
She was good at it too, producing spirit guides from clouds of mist which materialised out of her mouth - to the collective gasps of astonished onlookers. During her seances, these spirits were very fond of making bland but wise comments about living life well, being kind to others and so on.
Little Branwell would be forced to sit in upon these sessions from the age of five onwards, even though sometimes the ectoplasmic forms were in the shape of horribly rotting corpses.
Apparently, the Captain's mother hardly noticed her son from the moment he was born. Instead, she lived in mortal terror of her husband, a man who liked to think of himself as possessed by a spirit originating from ancient Egypt. After Branwell's birth, Mrs Hughes refused to share her bed with her husband, claiming that bearing another child was forbidden by her spirit guide. Her husband was as besotted with Mrs Hughes as she appeared to be disgusted by him, and chose to sleep on the balcony outside the marital chamber on a rickety metal fold-down bed, in all weathers and through all seasons.
Branwell's father was often seen dressed as Horus, god of the underworld, wearing the mask of a jackal, and chasing the young Branwell through the house brandishing a pole from which swung the headless, stuffed body of a black cat.
Adeline wrung her hands.
What kind of a household must that have been for a child?
No wonder the Captain had grown a little withdrawn after his injury. It was surprising he wasn't frothing at the mouth like his mother.
However, there was hope for him. Even those with the most eccentric or malicious of parents can recover, even if they are socially peculiar as adults.
Adeline knew social oddities through her Aunt. And she knew something of Egyptian mythology, and seances too. She'd come across many whose interests lay in the beyond. People who were also sensible, and loving towards others. Those gentle folk who attended the salons at her aunt's house in London were usually kind, artistic, and entertaining types. Yet, as far as Adeline knew, most of them didn't lumber around their houses dressed in nothing but a loin-cloth, pretending to be Egyptian gods.
She wrinkled her brow. There was more.
Old Mr Hughes, the Captain"s father, had also gained a reputation as a Lothario whose mistresses included a Duchess, a Scottish governess, and even a parlour maid. Gossip about his antics appeared in some of the racier ladies magazines. None of that interested Adeline much.
However, when her cousin talked of how old Mr Hughes' childhood tutor was a German man with links to a secret society of occultists, her ears did indeed prick up.
As her Aunt often said: never dabble in the occult unless one knows how to waltz with the devil.
It was said that Branwell"s father developed a mean streak when he came to manhood.
As well as cheating on his wife, he became infamous among certain circles - for necromancy. He claimed to spend most of his time speaking to, and channelling dead people.
Apparently, he allowed himself to become possessed - taking on the personalities of other beings from beyond the veil. He wrote whole manuscripts under the influence of one ghost or another. The books were mostly about demons. How to call them. And how to set them to work causing havoc, harm, and even death to others.
According to her cousin, old Mr Hughes was a cold and critical father to his only son, Branwell. He was the same with his wife after years of rejection, possibly driving her to jump to her death from the cliff at Raven"s Nest.
Branwell saw his mother's last moments. Adeline shivered. How terrible it must have been, watching his mother plunging to the sharp rocks below.
When young Captain Branwell Hughes joined the cavalry and went out to the Crimea, his father reportedly left Raven"s Nest for good and went to Africa. He crossed the Kalahari desert on the advice of his wife"s ghost. Eventually, Mr Hughes the elder drowned in the Zambezi river.
What drove him to this untimely demise, according to the journals found with his rotting corpse, were a group of spirits he picked up on his journeys. As well as the ghost of his wife. They"d all urged him to keep walking into the bush until he was utterly lost, and too far away from help when the malaria took him.
Stories, however much they claimed to be based on truth, were mere fabrications of the teller"s imagination.
Especially those reported in the sensational magazines Aunt Theodora enjoyed.
Or sent on by cousins from rural towns with no intellectual amusements except for Gothic novels readily at hand. Adeline swallowed hard. She hoped most of the Captain"s dreadful childhood was a case of embellishment, although perhaps it had been much worse that anyone knew...
"When will I meet Captain Hughes?" Adeline said, noting with interest the crimson walls around her, and the many paintings of Captain Hughes" ancestors hanging upon them. It appeared that the master of the house was the descendent of a long line of stern-faced people. All of them carried the same aquiline nose.
The servant whipped round. He ran up the enormous staircase sweeping to the floor above. Adeline presumed she should follow him. But before she had a chance to pick up her skirts and rush forwards, a door to the left of the stairs opened.
Adeline squinted to see who was there.
She found only shadows.
"You're late," a masculine voice said.
Chapter 8
Adeline made her way towards the voice. "Captain Branwell Hughes? I'm glad to meet you."
There was no reply.
So she entered the room.
She found herself in a cluttered, dusty, shadowy library, dimly lit by a single candle and a covered lamp on the teak reading desk. The
re was no sign of Captain Hughes. Shelves of bookcases lined the walls. More than she had ever seen.
And for a moment she was overwhelmed with the delights of her new employer's collection. A book-lover her whole life, the sight of so many packed shelves reaching high into the darkened corners of the room almost gave her palpitations. The ceiling appeared to go up at least two floors, if not more. Adeline was seized with an unladylike urge to climb the library ladder to the very top, and swing from its highest rung.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, enjoying the inky, musky smell of paper and leather.
Volumes of every size filled the room. They were piled on the desk and on the floor under the long window to the west. A row of leather-bound books lined the mantelpiece. She turned round to see if her employer was visible anywhere, but there was no sign of him except the billowing of thick, indigo velvet, floor-length curtains covering the windows to south.
She suspected he was hiding there, and instantly decided to ignore him, turning her back on the curtains as if she had merely entered the room for a chance to study and reflect.
If the Captain wanted to make a sensational entrance, so be it.
She had an endless supply of patience.
Yet she had to admit, the whole day had been rather a challenge. On top of that, she was more than a little unnerved by her arrival at Raven's Nest. Not that she would show it. She felt for the silver locket containing a photograph of her mother that she wore around her neck. Its smooth surface always soothed her, reminded her of who she was, and where she came from.
I am Adeline Winslow, and I am not afraid.
She ran her finger over the spines of books on the desk. Volumes of poetry, mathematics, philosophy, alchemy, natural sciences and even some novels. She had read some of the novels, and her Aunt had owned copies of a few of the books on natural history. Adeline picked up an open volume of demonology from the table, thinking about how the Captain was keen to make a certain impression.
