by Cindy Winget
Eleanor wasn’t sure how to take this bit of news. She was pulled from her thoughts, however, when Luke asked, “How about you, Eleanor? Why did you agree to come?”
“I suppose it’s because I have nowhere else to go.” Her cheeks reddened. She was surprised at herself for being so straightforward. In a way it felt freeing, and in spite of her embarrassment, she charged ahead. “I can’t stand to live in my house now that my mother has passed away.” She knew how that would be interpreted. That the thought of living in a space so inundated with memories of a loved one who had died would be painful in her grief.
The truth was far worse.
She had a complicated relationship with her mother, who had insisted that Eleanor stay close at hand at all times, meaning that Eleanor rarely left the house except to fetch groceries and medication. In her isolation, Eleanor had longed to go anywhere and do anything. To see anything but the white-walled prison she had been trapped in. She couldn’t bear to stay in a house full of so many painful memories.
“Plus, I, too, need the money,” she continued. “I am not qualified for anything. I have no skills outside of caring for my sick mother.”
“I’m not sure what the qualifications are, but you could look into becoming a personal nurse,” said Theo.
A personal nurse? The thought had never entered her consciousness. Perhaps she should look into it. That’s something she could be good at, if she could get past her shyness. It would be better than working at a hospital. She would only be responsible for looking after one person, which she was used to. And maybe a stranger would be more kind than Mother had been.
The old clock upon the wall began to chime and Miss Dudley glanced anxiously at it. “It’s six o’clock. I don’t stay after I put out dinner. Not after it begins to get dark. I leave before dark comes. I will have breakfast ready for you at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow morning.” And with that, she left the room.
The others glanced at each other in puzzled silence.
Chapter Five
Dr. Montague walked to the foyer and pulled open the heavy oak door. Ernest Valdemar stood upon the front stone porch.
“Valdemar! You came!” His friend had always gone by his last name. “When you failed to appear at the appointed time, I assumed you had changed your mind.”
Before Valdemar could respond, a fit of coughing took over. His shoulders hunched and he drew in a rattling breath.
“Are you alright?” Dr. Montague asked.
“Oh, yes. It’s nothing. Just a little cold.”
Dr. Montague looked at his friend with concern. There were dark circles beneath Valdemar’s eyes as though he hadn’t been sleeping well. His frame was thinner than the last time he had seen him.
“Come in. Come in. Take off your coat and join us. We’ve just sat down for dinner.”
Some light came back into Valdemar’s eyes. “Dinner? Oh yes, I’m famished!”
Dr. Montague chuckled and relieved his friend of his outer garment, along with his gray fedora, and hung them upon the coat rack with the rest of the household’s coats. As he turned back toward Valdemar, Miss Dudley came into the room.
“We’re leaving now, sir.”
“How many times must I ask you not to call me that?”
“Forgive me.”
“This is my dear friend, Mr. Ernest Valdemar. I have invited him to stay as well. I hadn’t told you about him because I was unsure if he would actually show up.”
Miss Dudley’s face fell, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Shall I hurry and make up a room for him?”
Noting her discomfort, Dr. Montague was quick to assure her that he could make up the room himself.
She looked to Valdemar and said, by way of explanation, “I don’t stay after six o’clock. Not after it begins to get dark. After I set dinner on the table, I leave. My brother Roderick as well.”
Valdemar nodded, looking baffled.
With a small, stiff curtsey to Dr. Montage, Miss Dudley pulled on her coat and gloves and left the house. Just then, Mr. Dudley appeared.
“Roderick,” Dr. Montague called to him. “Your sister just left.”
Mr. Dudley—who was a man of little words—merely nodded, pulled on his own coat, and followed after his sister.
Once he was gone, Valdemar looked at Mr. Montague. “Peculiar pair.”
“Yes, perhaps a little, but they are good people from what I’ve seen. They have agreed to take care of us strangers, and for that I am grateful.”
Valdemar nodded and followed Dr. Montague to the dining room.
“Everyone, I would like to introduce my good friend, Mr. Ernest Valdemar. He is going to be staying with us for the duration of our visit.” He glanced at Valdemar to confirm this. When Valdemar nodded, he continued, “We have not always seen eye to eye on this subject, but he’s slowly coming around.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Valdemar,” said Eleanor, surprising Dr. Montague by speaking first.
“Just Valdemar, if you please.”
“Valdemar, may I introduce to you Eleanor Vance, our expert on poltergeist activity.”
Eleanor blushed and waved away his claims.
“Miss Theo…” Dr. Montague held up his arm toward Theo, allowing her time to supply her last name. Instead, Theo only waved her hand in greeting. “She is our resident psychic.”
“Supposedly,” interjected Theo. “Didn’t know it myself until the day before.”
“And last, we have Luke Sanderson. It’s thanks to his aunt that we have been able to rent out Hill House.”
Luke gave an imaginary tip-of-the-hat to Valdemar.
“Have a seat and dig in. I heard down the grapevine that you were ‘famished.’” He chuckled and clapped a hand on his friend’s back.
Valdemar dutifully sat down, choosing a chair on the far side of the table, and began loading his plate.
Effecting a fake English accent, Dr. Montague stated, “This ol’ chum was me mate back when I went to Cambridge.”
“What is it that you do for employment, now that you are graduated?” asked Theo.
“I’m a professor at Harvard,” replied Valdemar. “So was Dr. Montague, as a matter of fact, before he retired to pursue his rather…eccentric new hobby.”
“I gather you don’t share Dr. Montague’s views on the supernatural,” spoke up Luke.
“Not really, no. I taught archaeology.”
“How long have you two known each other?” asked Theo, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs.
“Oh, goodness!” replied Dr. Montague. “A long time. It must be going on, what, fifteen years?”
“We met through Anabel, Dr. Montague’s wife,” supplied Valdemar.
“You’re married?” Theo asked.
“No,” Dr. Montague corrected. “I’ve had a Declaration of Independence from my wife.”
“I see. I’m sorry.”
“No reason to apologize. You didn’t know.” Dr. Montague was grateful when no one inquired as to the reason behind the separation. The conversation moved on to everyone else’s backgrounds, why they were all here, and what Dr. Montague expected of them during their stay. He was concerned to see that Valdemar had only nibbled on a roll. The rest of his plate remained untouched, despite the man’s claim to be starving.
“So, tell us, Dr. Montague. What is the history of the house?” asked Theo.
Dr. Montague had dreaded this part. He wanted their collective experiences in the house to be based in science, not swayed by childish fancies and ghost stories. However, he knew that they would not be satisfied with receiving no background whatsoever.
He cleared his throat. “Let’s see, the house was originally owned by the Crains. They called it Hill House because it’s nestled up here in the hills above the town. The house was built eighty-five years ago by Hugh Crain, as a present to his wife. He desired a large and luxurious country estate for his wife and children, grandchildren, and each subsequent generation, to live and die in. Alas, h
is young wife never even got to see the finished product. She died minutes from the house when her carriage overturned in the driveway. They brought her lifeless body into the house where Hugh cried over her for several days before her burial.”
“Such a sad story! Poor Mr. Crain,” said Theo, slathering jam onto her dinner roll.
“It would seem that Hugh was unfortunate in love a few times. He married twice more after the death of his first wife, but each perished before long. He lost his second wife in a fall. Tumbled down the large staircase in the entrance hall, I believe. But he had two daughters from that marriage. The third died of tuberculosis only a few years after they were married.”
Valdemar looked away at this news, as though pained by it.
“After her death,” continued Dr. Montague, “Hugh Crain boarded up all the doors and windows of Hill House and remained abroad, sending his daughters to live with a cousin of his former wife to be raised to adulthood. Hugh himself passed away shortly thereafter in Europe.”
“His poor daughters!” said Theo.
“If the house belonged to the Crains, how did Luke’s aunt become in possession of it?” asked Valdemar. “Did Hugh Crain sell the house before he passed away?” He looked to Luke for the answer.
“I have no idea,” said Luke, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve only ever been here once when I was a very small child, and I’m afraid I know very little about the place. I never much thought about it or cared to ask. Until now, at least.”
Valdemar glanced back to Dr. Montague.
“No, Hugh Crain didn’t sell the house. But I’m afraid that’s a story for another day. It’s getting quite late, and I think it would behoove all of us to get some rest.”
Chapter Six
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Eleanor stirred restlessly in her sleep.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Who was banging on her door at this time of night?
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Eleanor’s eyes flew open with sudden understanding. Mother. Mother was knocking on the wall with her cane, as she always did in the middle of the night when she needed something. With a groan of reluctance, she heaved her body to a sitting position and threw her covers off. Slipping her bare feet into the slippers at the side of the bed, she stood and grabbed the robe hanging off the bedpost.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“I’m coming,” she muttered into the inky blackness of her bedroom, wrapping the robe around herself.
Mother probably just needed a glass of water or help getting to the bathroom. Eleanor had dealt with such issues on nearly a nightly basis, and yet she never failed to feel irritated about being woken in the middle of the night.
She stumbled toward the door but had a hard time locating it. It should be right here! Where was it? Her hand slid along the wall until she bumped painfully into the side of a bureau. She hopped on one foot, holding onto her smarting toes and whispering curses. When the pain ebbed a bit, she dropped her foot, and her hand encountered a lamp upon the dresser. With fumbling fingers, Eleanor managed to turn it on. Her bedroom was brought into sharp relief, and she cried out in surprise.
Blue. Everything was blue.
That is when she remembered that she wasn’t in her small house back in Belview. She was at Hill House.
Her mother was dead.
The thought took her breath away. Her mother was dead. She was gone forever. Instead of the crushing weight of grief, Eleanor felt relief. Elation even.
Her mother was dead.
Eleanor smiled. She was on an adventure. She was in a place so big that she could fit a thousand of her old house inside of it. She had made friends here, done what she pleased. Didn’t have to get up in the middle of the night to help an old lady wobble to the bathroom or tend to anyone else’s needs but her own.
She was free.
Free to stay. Free to go. Free to misbehave. She could act any way she liked without her mother’s piercing, judgmental eyes staring back at her.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Eleanor froze. Now that she was fully awake, she realized that the banging itself had been real.
* * *
What was that? Theo sat up in bed.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
There it was again. As her sleepy mind began to clear, she realized that someone must be knocking at her bedroom door. Disgruntled at having been awoken, Theo slowly got out of bed and began wrapping her robe around herself. She glanced at the clock which sat upon her nightstand. It was three in the morning. What was so urgent that someone was waking her up so early?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“I’m coming!” she called to the rude noise. She placed her bare feet into her slippers and padded across the cold wooden floor to the door. Throwing it open, she began to berate whoever had awoken her.
There was no one there.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sounds of knocking weren’t coming from the door. It was coming from the walls. As the noise rang out once more in the stillness of her bedroom, she was confused by the height of the knocking. It was near the ceiling. No one she knew was tall enough to knock from up there. Was Eleanor in the next room banging on her wall? Perhaps using a pipe or other long object? Why would she do that?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It was moving on. The knocking was now sounding on the opposite wall. Then it couldn’t be Eleanor, Theo thought. With slow, deliberate steps, she shuffled into the hallway and down to Eleanor’s bedroom. Without knocking or even calling out her presence, she opened the door and let herself in.
“Theo! Thank goodness! What’s that sound?” Eleanor’s voice trembled and Theo crawled up onto her bed.
“I don’t know,” she told her. “It sounds like someone knocking on the walls, but it’s too high.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The noise was once again moving away from them, the knocking much quieter than it was before. Then a new sound invaded their ears. Someone was walking around out in the hallway. Heavy footsteps thudded over the carpet runner, shuffled forward, then thumped again.
“Hello!” called Theo. “Is anybody out there?”
The footsteps stopped. All was silent.
“Luke? Dr. Montague?” Theo tried again.
No one answered her questions. Eleanor and Theo huddled together on the bed, drawing the blankets up to their chins like frightened schoolgirls. Eleanor grabbed a hold of Theo’s hand. The air had turned cold. They shivered and quaked upon the bed, their erratic breathing creating little puffs of mist in front of their faces.
“Aaaa!” they both screamed as the doorknob let out a rusty screech, turning one way and then the other.
“Why can’t they open it?” whispered Theo. “I didn’t lock the door when I came in.”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The door bowed inward with the strength of the knocking. The girls simultaneously threw the blanket over their heads, as though it had the power to save them from whatever evil entity sought entrance to the room.
The sound of childish laughter rang out. Theo dared to peek above the cotton barricade of protection but saw nothing. There were no children here. None that she knew of at least. Did Miss Dudley have a little girl? The laughter rang out again, seeming to fill the entire room with its mirth. Then all was silent and still once more.
Rather than brave the trek back to her own bedroom, Theo asked, “Can I stay with you tonight?”
Eleanor nodded, looking relieved.
Neither one dared speak after that. When it became apparent that no more knocking or girlish laughter would visit them again that night, they settled down into the warmth of the blankets. They lay looking up at the ceiling, the sandman evading them both until just before dawn.
Chapter Seven
“We need to tell Dr. Montague what happened last night, straight away,” Theo told Eleanor the next morning.
Eleanor nodded.
“We’ll tell him at breakfast,” Theo continued
as she climbed out of Eleanor’s bed and stuck her feet into her slippers. She had slept in her robe, and it was now wrinkled and bunched weirdly in places. She tried to straighten it out as best she could as she made her way to her own room.
She hopped into a warm shower, reveling in the water’s ability to unkink her anxious muscles. As she began to relax, she reflected upon the events of last night. Were ghosts actually real? That was the only explanation she could come up with for what had happened. A part of her was still frightened, but in the light of day, it didn’t seem as concerning as it had during the night. In the dark. She chuckled at herself. She was beginning to sound like Miss Dudley.
If she was being honest with herself, she knew the real reason the thought of being haunted by ghosts didn’t scare her as much as it should have. Her brother. If she and Eleanor had made actual contact with apparitions last night, then that meant there was a real possibility that her brother’s spirit could still be out there. That he hadn’t ceased to exist when his body was placed in the ground.
Not wanting to steal all the hot water, Theo quickly washed up and stepped out of the shower. She dressed in her warmest clothes, still feeling a chill that had little to do with the temperature of the house. The red sweater-coat was a favorite of hers and gave comfort as well as warmth. She ran a brush through her hair, swiped on some of Rimmel’s mascara and a dab of red lipstick and walked downstairs to the dining room.
She was surprised to see that Eleanor had beat her and was already loading her plate with bacon, eggs, and hash browns. Not feeling particularly hungry, Theo grabbed up a piece of buttered toast and poured herself a cup of herbal tea.
“Good morning!” rang out a voice. Theo turned her head towards the doorway and saw Dr. Montague standing there, looking very formal in his navy suit, red bowtie, and wingtip shoes. “Where’s Luke?” he inquired.
