The Ghosts of Idlewood

by Bullock, M. L.

  Anyone with a brain could see he did not want it. Not in the least.

  I kept my eyes down and wandered back out of the house and to the kitchen with Mr. Lofton. He had fuzzy white eyebrows that looked like friendly caterpillars. He was sick today but still working hard. He twisted bread into the familiar shapes and prepared to bake them for supper. The day had escaped me. It was only an hour until dark, and my stomach was rumbling.

  “Good evening, little miss. What’s that you got there?” My hands flew in my pockets in a panic. I couldn’t tell him about the potion, the spell and the letter! Then I realized he was talking about my knee. “Hop up here like a good girl, and I’ll take a look at it.” I climbed up on the chair and then the table. I pulled my linen dress up to show off my bloody knee. “That’s a good’un. How did that happen? You aren’t climbing trees, are you?”

  Thoughts of Tallulah climbing and then swinging from the tree filled my head. “No, sir. I just tripped and fell.”

  “This might sting a bit, but you’ve got to clean it.” He dipped a cotton towel in some water and handed it to me. “Here, you do it. You’re too big, too much of a lady now, for me to be dabbing your knees for you.”

  “Aw,” I said, feigning disappointment. I took the cloth and winced as I dabbed the dirt out. Mrs. Potts came in and scolded me for sitting on the table.

  “You’re not eating dough, I hope? That will make your belly swell as big as mine!” she joked pleasantly and pinched my cheek. “Now get down. We’ve got to bring supper up. Do yourself a favor, miss. Go get a bath and change your clothing before your mother sees you. She’s on a tear today.”

  “Good idea.” I tore off a piece of dough and popped it in my mouth before I ran from the kitchen, into the servants’ entrance and upstairs to snoop around the house. The argument had died down by then, and everyone was dressing for dinner. I found an embroidery work in the sitting room. It captured my attention because it had a butterfly on it, but then I realized it was Aubrey’s. I took a needle and pulled at the threads, making them uneven. Hmph. That would teach her.

  Feeling a tiny bit of vindication, I went back to the room I now shared with the ghost of my sister. At least, I fancied that I did. In fact, last night I dreamed about her, but I couldn’t remember what I had dreamed. This morning I tried for hours to recall her words, but to no avail.

  Quietly I began thinking about where I would put the letter. Percy would be back soon, I hoped, but it could be days. It could be weeks. Since I had no way to write him, for I did not know where he went, this was my only option. Mother wouldn’t care about the letter, and Michael wouldn’t have time for such childish things. But I had to show Percy. He had to know the truth. Maybe he could help Tallulah, free her from purgatory, as I knew he would want to do.

  I’d left my door open as I searched through my dresses. I heard the clock downstairs chiming the supper hour. It was seven o’clock! Where had the time gone? Michael would be very displeased. Uncaring that the door was wide open, I slid out of the dirty dress and slipped into the blue one. I’d never worn it before, but it looked much like all the others I had. A plain dress with a white pinafore and matching bow for my hair. As I pledged before, I didn’t wear the bow. I slid the potion and the letter in my pocket, left off my stockings and put my feet in my slippers. I hoped Michael wouldn’t notice them. He was a stickler for appearances.

  I raced down the stairs and paused at the new clock. Why not here? Mrs. Potts had shown me the secret panel on the right side. She kept the clock’s key there, but it wasn’t scheduled to be wound for another month. This would be the perfect place to hide the letter. Seeing no one about, I squatted down, pushed on the panel and put my note inside. With another push, the panel popped back in place. I stared at the clock’s face. Okay, Mr. Clock, my sister’s fate is in your hands. Please protect my letter. I held the potion in my hand, but before I could drink it or repeat the magic spell, I heard my brother’s angry voice calling me. Feeling conflicted, I left my secret in the clock and walked into the dining room.

  I immediately regretted my decision. The five of them were there: Mother, Michael, Bridget (who looked remarkably cleaner), Aubrey and Mr. Quigley. “Where have you been?” Michael demanded.

  “I am sorry. I lost track of time.” I stared down at my slippers.

  “Where is your bow, and when was the last time you brushed your hair?” my mother snarled as she sipped her evening claret.

  “I brushed it this morning, and I’m too old for bows now, Mother.”

  “Hardly. You look a mess, Trinket. Why don’t you go to your room and tidy up?”

  Bridget grinned at me. I felt like she was trying to tell me something, but I had no idea what that might be.

  “You will get no supper tonight, Trinket. Go to your room and go to bed. This will be a lesson to remember. I am sure if your father were here, he would agree with me.”

  “Father never sent me to bed without supper!” I said angrily.

  Michael rose so quickly I thought his chair would fall over. “Leave now or I will strap you!” I knew he meant every word of it.

  Tears filled my eyes. I had no one now. No Percy. No Tallulah. No Father. I was surrounded by people who hated me. Anger welled up in me, and I screamed as loudly as I could, “I hate you! I hate you all!” Michael was so surprised, he didn’t run after me. I ran as fast as I could up the stairs. Tallulah’s room was at the end of the hall. I wished, I prayed, I hoped I would find her there. I ran into the room, ignoring my mother’s calls to return. I slammed the door with the full force of my anger and dragged a chair to put under the doorknob. Nobody could come in now. Nobody could correct my behavior with a strap or a tongue-lashing. They deserved it. They deserved to hear my wrath, my anger.

  I flopped on my sister’s bed and sobbed until I fell asleep.

  When I woke, it was dark and raining. I slid off the bed, feeling sullen still. My stomach was rumbling loudly now. Maybe someone had left me a tray outside my door? I peered through the crack and saw no one. I moved the chair and carefully opened the door. There was no food. No glass of milk. I listened for sounds that anyone was awake, but nobody was. It was quite late now—the clock struck 11, and I knew I should be in bed. But I had an enchantment to finish. I went back in the room and returned the chair to its position. I couldn’t be interrupted.

  I felt the bottle in my pocket. I had to drink it and then speak the magic spell. Could I remember the spell now? What was it? Africanus…yes, that part I remembered. I paced the floor as the lightning cracked nearby. Suddenly I had perfect recall. Africanus objecticus, ublius shamara! Before I could forget again, I pulled the potion out of my pocket and drank it. It tasted foul, like sickly flowers, dirty mushrooms and some other things that I was sure I didn’t want to properly identify, including my own blood. For a few seconds I felt the urge to vomit, but with some effort, I kept the potion down. This was worse than cod liver oil! But I couldn’t lose the magic! I rolled on the floor, clutching my stomach until the urge passed. Once the nausea dissipated I stood up slowly and focused on breathing normally. I found myself in front of my sister’s mirror. I did as Bridget told me. I thought about the hiding place and the letter and said the words loudly: Africanus objecticus, ublius shamara!

  As I blinked in the darkness, the lightning illuminated my reflection in the mirror.

  I was no longer myself! That wasn’t my face looking back at me! I stepped closer to the mirror, and the other girl, the one who wasn’t me, watched me curiously. She walked toward me too. She looked almost like me but not quite the same, I observed as the lightning continued to crack and the floor creaked under my footsteps. Her hair was darker, and she had dark eyes. She wore no bow in her hair; in fact, her hair was short. I liked the look of her short hair. I wished I could wear my hair short too.

  “Who are you?” I asked the reflection, but then the image melted away and it was just me again. I waved my hands at myself and was surprised to see that light i
lluminated them. Bridget’s magic had worked! I too had magical powers! Forgetting about the girl in the mirror for a moment, I turned to look at the world around me. It was exciting to see it in such a magical way. Everything seemed better, different, and my head felt as if it would float away, float right off my shoulders!

  Somewhere in the distance, I heard someone crying. Must be Mother, crying for Tallulah. She cried for her Golden Daughter every night. But the girl in the mirror, where had she gone? I touched my hair. It felt heavy and sloppy, tangled like evil ropes around my head. But I had scissors, didn’t I? I could cut my hair. I plundered Tallulah’s sewing basket and found the heavy scissors there. Standing in front of the mirror, I began cutting my hair. I laughed as I lopped off the hair on the left, and then the hair on the right. I watched the clumps fall to the floor, and I felt free. I danced and spun, feeling lighter than I had ever felt, even lighter than I felt after prayers. I grabbed the hair at the back of my head and with some effort cut it off too. I let the scissors fall from my hand and stared at the pile of hair on the floor. The coils looked like brown snakes. They began to move like snakes too! I scurried to the bed and jumped on it, covering my face with a pillow. I stayed there for a while until I forgot what I had been afraid of.

  Thunder rolled over Idlewood. It drew me to the window that overlooked the roof jutting out beneath it. I’d always loved this room. Tallulah’s room. It was the only one without a balcony, but it had this sloped roof. When I was small, I often spied on Tallulah and Percy as they sat on the roof and looked at the stars. How close they’d been! How I loved them!

  I heard someone knocking on my door. Perhaps it was Bridget calling me, but I couldn’t be sure. She sounded more and more like Mother every day. I hated Mother. She had never wanted me. I was not golden enough. But I never hated Percy or Tallulah for their beauty. They loved everyone, especially one another. I slid the window open and let the rain beat on my face. It drenched me in a matter of seconds. I stuck my hands out the window, and they practically shone with light now. The magical power within me was getting stronger. But how long would it last? I had cast the protection spell, but was it enough?

  No. It wasn’t enough. I knew what I had to do.

  I kicked off my slippers and slung my legs over the side of the windowsill. Bridget banged on the door. “Let me in, Trinket!”

  “I have the power now, Bridget! I have it!” I called back as I stepped outside onto the wet roof. She would never get in here to stop me. The chair barred her way.

  The rain came down harder now, or maybe it just felt that way because I had so much magic in me. Yes, I was bursting with it! Just like this thunder and lightning! I had to stand there, just at the edge. I had to stand above them all, and I had to say it! I had to say her name! I would no longer be afraid to speak her name, for she was my sister. If I could speak it, I would break the evil spell over her and she would be free, free to leave the place of the damned. Yes, that was all I had to do! And I was strong now. Strong enough to save her.

  I inched toward the edge of the roof, closer still. Yes, I had to stand there. Just as I had in my dream! I put my arms out to my sides, as I’d seen Bridget do when she began her fairy dance. I was like a dancer now, full of magic and love for my Tallulah.

  Now! Here! This was far enough! I had to do it! I opened my mouth to speak it out, but the words never came. Thunder shook the house, and I began to fall. I stared up into the dark sky as the lightning flashed again.

  And then I was no more.

  Chapter Nineteen – Carrie Jo

  I woke with a sob. What a horrible thing! Poor Trinket! I gazed at the clock. It was five now, and Ashland slept soundly beside me. Baby AJ would be home in a few hours, and this wasn’t going to wait. I grabbed my shoes and purse and slipped out of the house as I sent Rachel a text.

  You up?

  Yep. Haven’t slept.

  Meet me at the house. I know what we have to do.

  Okay!

  Since I lived closer to Idlewood, I arrived quite a while before Rachel did. I walked in the house, unafraid now. The sadness and seriousness of my dream hung over me like my own “magical” protective barrier. I walked to the clock, pushed open the panel and found the yellowed letter still hidden. With tears in my eyes, I carefully unfolded it and read the heartbreaking message, the one that likely sent Tallulah to her death and indirectly led to Trinket’s death as well.

  Rachel walked in and closed the door behind her. She rubbed her jacket sleeves and shivered. “Cold in here, but I don’t feel anything negative now.”

  “That’s because I know the truth. We know the truth. Look at this, Rachel.”

  She took the letter and read it. “It’s just like you said. But what happened to Trinket?”

  Rachel Kowalski…

  “She’s here!” she said.

  “Don’t be afraid. She won’t hurt you. In fact, she saw you in her mirror a long time ago. She trusts you.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. For some reason, we have to do this now. She’s upstairs, in Tallulah’s room. Waiting for you. We have to go to her. I’ll stay with you.” She took my hand, and together we walked up the stairs. Thankfully, there was no stomping, no signs of Rachel’s Shadow Man. We’d have to deal with him later, that much I knew. But today, this was about Trinket. She’d shown me what happened, and she was reaching out to us for help.

  We stood outside the door of Tallulah and Trinket’s room. For some reason, I knocked. And as if I expected it, a little girl’s voice answered.

  Come in…

  I didn’t know what Rachel could see, but as I swung the door open I saw the room as it used to be. The standing mirror, the four-poster bed, the rag rug made entirely of pink, red and purple rags. I saw the open window and the child, Trinket. The scissors were on the floor, and her hair lay in clumps. Rachel fell to her knees and sobbed. I touched her shoulder to reassure her. She took the letter out of her pocket and unfolded it.

  “I found it, Trinket,” she cried, the emotions overwhelming her. I felt them too, but not like Rachel did. Her sensitivity allowed her to pull emotions from everyone in the room, including Trinket. “And I’m going to tell the world the truth about what happened. Everyone will know the truth. I promise, Trinket. They will know.”

  The girl hovered by the window, which I saw was open now. She wasn’t quite sure. She didn’t quite believe.

  “Call her Dot, Rachel. Tell her the magic worked.”

  “Okay,” Rachel whispered to me. She clutched my hand and said, “Dot, the magic worked. It worked perfectly.”

  Trinket laughed and spun before us, changing into a misty cloud. Then she slipped out the window. I ran after her to watch. The small spirit walked out on the roof, and I could see her still hovering, the sun threatening to rise in the distance. I felt such an urgency—it had to happen now. Rachel was beside me staring at the girl, her dress wet, her hair shorn sloppily, her skin pale. The child raised her arms as if she believed she could fly. I heard Rachel whimper beside me. “No, it’s okay. She’s not going to jump. She never jumped. She fell. But now it’s time. Tell her, Rachel. Tell her now is the time. She has to say her name now!”

  In a rush, Rachel repeated what I told her, “Now is the time, Dot! Say her name now!”

  Arms still outstretched, Trinket looked at us once more and then turned her eyes to the far horizon, smiling at the sun’s first rays.

  “Tallulah Ferguson! I remember you! I love you! I will never forget you!” As she spoke, Trinket began to fade, her arms waving like a dancer’s as she spun around happily.

  With one last breath before she vanished, I heard her whisper, “Thank you.”

  Rachel fell into my arms and cried as she clung to me. “Now I remember. Now I remember. I did see her. I saw her in the mirror, but I thought I dreamed it. She was always with me. Just waiting until I made it here. All these years.”

  “And here you are, and I am so happy
you’re here.” Together we walked out of the house, leaving the ghosts of Idlewood behind.

  At least for a little while.

  Epilogue – Carrie Jo

  Magical hardly described the wedding of Detra Ann Dowd and Henri Devecheaux. It was honest and sweet, but not in an immature way. Painted white trees covered with hundreds of twinkling fairy lights decorated the walkways to the ballroom, which someone had cast in enchanting lavender light. A string quartet played now, but after the traditional dances, a jazz band would take the stage and the sounds of New Orleans would bounce through the rooms of Seven Sisters. Perhaps the ghosts wouldn’t mind too much.

  Maybe that meant good magic was at work here. Even the kiss, which was highly anticipated by some, was just plain right. They’d done it! And they were going to be fine.

  Detra Ann looked a dream in her fitted white gown with the low bustle. At the back of her neat updo she wore a smaller pouf of white fabric. She was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen. And the happiest. But then, why shouldn’t she be? She’d helped her Harry find his lost cousin. And to think, she’d been near their old house in Dumont the whole time.