Malevolent Hall 1666AD (4 page)

“Tilly,” he called, as he opened the secret door at the other end of the tunnel.  Her heart pounded, and as he gathered her in his arms, she hugged him close.

“He knows, Richard knows you are in love with someone else, and I am sure he suspects me,” he said, his eyes fearful.

“What will we do?” she wept.  He pulled her to him, and, as his lips pressed against hers, her body yearned for him.

“I can’t lose you Tilly, not to him.  He does not love you he just wants your power.”

“I know, and I do not want to marry him, I love you.”  He kissed her again.  His lips moved down her neck, kissing and caressing her until she whimpered.

“I have horses waiting beyond the cave, will you come with me? We can ride to Scotland this very night?” he begged.  He pulled back from her, and his hands swept through her long, dark hair.  “Tilly, he will kill you and me the moment he finds out about us.”

“Wake up ~ Wake up, Tilly,”
his voice called.  Her ears were under the water, muffling his cry.

“Tilly, wake up!”
he yelled louder.  Her eyes flew open; she sat up brushing the water from her face.  Launching herself to her feet, Matilda stood in the bath, her eyes wide her heart pounding as she listened.  Inhaling, she could smell smoke and in a panic, grabbed her towel, wrapped it around her chest, and climbed out of the bath.  Opening the bathroom door and the smell was even stronger in the hallway.  Her wet feet pattered along the wooden floor as she followed the scent of smoke.  She hurried downstairs, ran across the foyer, and opened the kitchen door.

“Shit!” she screamed, as the damned boiler was on fire.  

Hitting the off switch on the wall, and grabbing a fire extinguisher she remembered was in the kitchen cupboard, Matilda prayed it would still work.  Pulling the nozzle, she sprayed the boiler and coughing from the smoke pouring from it, she doused the flames.  When the fire was out, she dropped the extinguisher to the floor with a loud thud.

“Thank you,” she said aloud.  “Whoever you are,” she added as he had almost certainly saved her from another inferno.  Opening the back door to allow the smoke to escape, she shivered at the cold as she fanned the door back and forth a dozen times to eradicate the smoke.

Finally, unable to stand the cold any longer, she closed and bolted the door.  Walking towards the kitchen door, and placing a hand on the doorframe, Matilda peered out into the hall.  Faced with nothing but silence, she edged slowly out of the kitchen and hurried across the foyer towards the stairs.  With her hand gripping the wooden bannister rail, Matilda headed back up to the bathroom.  Making her way down the hallway, a sudden chill rushed through her body, sharp pain tore through her shoulder, and she gasped stumbling back a pace.

Bang!

Matilda whirled around as the bathroom door slammed closed and glanced down at the parquet floor.  Moving slowly, she stared at what looked like a second set of wet footprints coming out of the bathroom, and they were smaller, like that of a child.

“What the hell,” she muttered.  Matilda approached the bathroom door, her hand hesitantly lifting to turn the handle.  Pushing the door open slowly, she peered inside, while at the same time letting out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. Going inside, and dropping her towel, Matilda quickly pulled on her nightdress and wrapped her long, dripping locks in another towel.  The creepy ‘footprints’ had seriously spooked her, and she hurried back to the tower.

At the top, she switched on the light and was relieved to find it now worked.  Matilda closed the heavy oak door behind her, pulling over the iron lock to secure it.  It may not stop a ghost, but it made her feel a lot safer.

She towel dried her hair, brushed it, and plaited it into ten small plaits before giving a yawn, and climbing into bed.  She was glad the long drive had made her so tired, and with luck, she would fall asleep without any further incidents.

Tomorrow the crew would arrive.  They were bringing a couple of mobile homes as some of the men, including Mike, were going to stay on site until the job was complete. That in itself made her feel a whole lot better.

Flicking off the light switch on the wall by the bed, Matilda snuggled down into her duvet.  She closed her eyes, but unable to get the ghostly voice out of her head, she tossed and turned for what seemed to her to be hours.  Eventually, she drifted off to sleep and inevitably slipped into her reoccurring dream.

“Tilly,” Eric called, as he opened the secret door at the other end of the tunnel.  Sat weeping on her bed, her heart pounded at his voice.  She turned.

“Eric!” she cried in a whisper, and she jumped to her feet.  As he gathered her in his arms, she hugged him close.

“He knows, Tilly, Richard knows you are in love with someone else and I am sure he suspects me,” he said, his eyes fearful.

“What will we do?” she wept.  He pulled her to him, and, as his lips pressed against hers, her body yearned for him. 

Her duvet pulled back, and a cold chill swept across her; it caressed her neck and blew gently in her ear.

“Remember me, Tilly,”
he whispered.  Her plaits lifted from her pillow and wavered in the air, a finger ran gently down her cheek, traced along her jaw, and down her throat where it settled for a moment.

“
Tueri deus meus es, amica mea,”
the voice whispered, his hand moving
to her breast and then down the line of her body.

“I can’t see your face,” she moaned, her eyes still closed in a dreamy state.  “Show me who you are,” Matilda begged, lifting her hand to touch him, to feel him, but all she found was an empty space, and her hand fell limp onto her stomach.

Her plaits dropped with a slight thud on the pillow. Matilda’s eyes opened at the sensation, and her hand lifted to touch her hair.  Patting them down with her hands, she sat up and glanced uneasily around the bedroom.  Feeling cold she pulled the duvet over herself, and snuggled down before drifting back to sleep.

Matilda pulled the pillow over her face to shield her eyes.  Without any curtains at the window, or blinds covering the dome, the early morning light streamed through waking her.

Having lay awake restless for most of the night, she was still tired, and although having tons to do, she contemplated lying in just a little while longer.  Her phone whistled the tune from the clangers and her hand emerged from the duvet reaching over, and searching the bedside table.  Her fingers found it and drawing her phone into her hand looked at it under her pillow.  She smiled, as it was a text from Mike.

‘Hi, Matilda, hope you survived your first night!’ it read, and her smile deepened, if only he knew!  “Will be there around twelve, make sure the kettle’s on! Mike
’.

“Shit,” she said, checking the time, as it was already seven.  Emerging from under the pillow, she squinted, threw her phone on the bedside table, and slid out of bed.  With a yawn, and stretching her arms either side of her head she wandered to the window.  It wasn’t raining yet, and she admired the view of the old oaks that made up most of the forest surrounding the hall.  A dozen or so trees still had their golden leaves hanging on defiantly against the autumnal winds, but most had shed them and they lay scattered carpeting the ground like a crimson field.  All this now belonged to her, over a hundred acres of forestry, and a ram-shackled hall.

She grabbed her toiletry bag, and her robe, and slipping it on made her way downstairs to the bathroom.  After going to the loo, she stood at the sink washing her hands, her eyes rolled at her reflection in the mirror as Matilda had left her make-up on last night and now resembled a panda. 

Grabbing some cleansing wipes, she began to take the make-up off.  She scratched at her throat, as it felt irritated and itchy.

“What the….” she muttered, and stood on the tips of the toes to get a closer look in the mirror at a mark on her neck.  Her hand lifted to it, and her fingers prodded it.  Using a cleansing wipe, she scrubbed at it to see if it would go away.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” she muttered, wondering why there was a cross, burned into her throat.  She was unable to rationalise where it had come from or what else it could be.  Even if she slept on her pentagram, it wouldn’t have left an imprint like that, it didn’t make sense.  Pulling the neckline of her nightdress down and checking herself for any other marks she stared at what looked like three claw marks scratched into her skin on her left shoulder.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled, moving in closer to the mirror.  There were three long scratches, around half an inch apart and six inches in length, and they were slightly raised and scabby.  She gave them a gentle rub, and thought back to the night before, when she felt a sudden sharp pain in her shoulder.

Concern flooded her, as she read about these sorts of scratches on the internet while doing research.  It seemed to be a common paranormal phenomenon associated with demon hauntings.  She pulled her top back up and sighed.  She had been here one night, and already weird things were starting to happen. 

Matilda went back up-stairs.  She slipped on black knickers and a matching lacy bra and got dressed in a long blue maxi dress.  Rummaging through her chest, and grabbing a jar of homemade healing ointment.  Pulling the collar of her dress to one side, and applied it to the scratches on her shoulder and to the cross on her throat.  She grabbed her phone, and took a couple of selfies, having decided to keep a record of anything weird or unusual that happened as evidence.  She took a blue silk scarf from her holdall and tied it around her throat, as she didn’t want anyone asking question, especially not Mike.

After breakfasting on muesli and fresh blueberries, Matilda watered the dead plants on the window ledge in the hope of reviving them, and cleaned the downstairs cloakroom.  Rubber gloves on and black bags in hand she started to tackle the kitchen, scrubbing the Aga and cleaning the fridge, both of which amazingly still worked. 

Her next job was the pantry and everything had to go.  Wasting no time, the entire contents went in the black bags and dragging them to the back door, left them there ready to take out.

Matilda scrubbed all the shelves and dried them.  Looking at the floor, her hand rose to her hips as she had forgotten to bring a mop, and wondered if her mother’s would still be any good.  Discarding her rubber gloves on the kitchen table, she went to the laundry room.

Flicking on the light, her lips wrinkled as she looked at a pile of clothes on the worktop, neatly folded as if freshly laundered.  She wandered to it and lifting the t-shirt on the top, gave a little cough as a puff of dust whooshed into the air.  Pursing her lips, and determined not to cry she sucked it back in.  It was one of Teddy’s t-shirts with Fireman Sam emblazoned across the front.

“Oh for the love of God,” she muttered, pulling it to her nose and inhaling, but it smelt musty and not of her dear brother.  Dropping it back on the pile, and spotting a mop and bucket in the far corner, she walked to it.  On further inspection, it turned out to be mouldy and smelly and of no use at all.  Glancing at her watch and needing to go to town anyway to get some supplies she decided to buy a new one.

Crash!

Her eyes spun to the door, and hurrying out of the laundry room, she stood in the hallway listening, her eyes searching the hall, and staircase.  On hearing nothing further, she walked back to the kitchen, and pushed the door open.

“What the hell,” she groaned, as littered all over the kitchen floor were the entire contents of the three black bags.  Her hands rose to her hips surveying the mess.  As wave of cold went right through her, she spun around - a flash of a shadow catching her eyes.

“Hey, who’s there?” she yelled, grabbing a broom and running out into the foyer.  She was seriously beginning to think she was not alone, and Matilda gripped the broom handle tighter.  Maybe there was a vagrant living in the building?

With a cautious step, and moving towards the day lounge she pushed the door open, her breath held in her throat as she stepped inside. It was empty. She breathed and closed the door firmly.  Moving past the front door, and heading along the rear hall, she opened her father’s study door and peered inside.  Nothing, she closed it and moved on.

The next door led into hers and Teddy’s playroom and to be perfectly honest she had been avoiding it like the plague.  She adored her little brother, Edward junior, or Teddy as the family always called him.  The guilt held within her heart over his death haunted her the most.

As she lifted her hand to the doorknob, it shook.

“Come on get a grip, Matilda,” she said to herself.  “It’s just a stupid room.” After a moment of hesitation, she turned the knob and pushed the door open, it creaked, and cringing at the noise, she reached for the light and switched it on.  Her eyes misted over at the sight of all their toys.  One-half was full of Teddy’s cars, trucks and Lego bricks, the other her dolls, an empty painting easel and a desk.  She took another step, and to her relief there was no one in here either.  Lifting her hand and wiping her tears, her heart felt so heavy, this room was full of her brother, and for a second she actually thought she heard his laughter.  Giving a shudder and hurrying out of the room, she closed the door firmly behind her, not able to face it.

The last room was the dining room.  She turned the knob, walked in, and stopped dead.  Light streamed through the floor to ceiling arched windows, showing speckles of dust dancing in the air.  The golden drapes were open and held back with large, black, and gold rope ties.

“Oh no,” she wept, dropping the broom to the floor as her hands rose to her mouth.  The room decorated for her birthday lunch, even had balloons, although now shrivelled, hanging from the ceiling.  A Harry Potter tablecloth covered the oak dining table and streamers hung from the ceiling with a ‘Happy Birthday Matilda’ banner strung across the back wall.  Presents sat on the table waiting for her and birthday cards piled high in the middle, along with decayed remnants of sandwiches, cakes, and other birthday treats presented on her mother’s best blue china.

Matilda collapsed to her knees in a tormented heap, and wept, having had no idea her parents had done this for her.  As far as she remembered, they were just having cake and then going to McDonalds.

She felt a hand press her shoulder as if comforting her.  Matilda’s heart leapt to her throat and spinning around she fell backwards onto her hands.

“Who’s there?” she called, but her eyes saw no one and clambering to her feet moved further into the room.  “Is there – someone in here?” she begged in a sob.  The room remained silent.  Glancing behind her to the gifts on the table and wiping her nose, and eyes with the back of her hand she picked one up.

“To our darling Matilda, all our love Aunt May, and Uncle Joe xxxx”

Her trembling hands opened it, her lips pursing together when she saw what was inside.  Discarding the wrapping paper on the table and opening the book, she read, ‘First Edition’, and cried.  Her Aunt must have searched and searched for this copy of Alice through the Looking Glass, and how much she must have paid for it, she dreaded to think.

As a very young child, Alice through the Looking Glass had been her favourite story, reading it so many times that her own copy had worn away.  Her fingers fumbled to open the note inside.  It read. 

‘Darling Matilda,

This book is very special, just like you.

xxxx (p.s don’t scribble on it!)’. 

Matilda gave a chuckle, as in her old book she coloured in some of the pages, the white rabbit she clearly remembered colouring blue when she was five years old.

There were other present from friends of the family, but unable to bear the pain of opening them, she left them where they were.  There were nameplates on the table, and picking one up it read, Emily, another, Rose, another, Jenny.  Her parents must have invited her best friends to her birthday.  She put them down thankful they were not here when the demon had attacked.

She picked up the broom, took one last look at it all, and left, closing the door behind her.  Her heart ached so much, as not only had she lost her family that day, Matilda lost her best friends too.

She wandered back to the kitchen, having decided to clean up the mess and pop into town to do her shopping.  Entering the kitchen, she stopped dead.

“Oh for fuck’s sake what is going on!” she yelled to no one and shoving the broom back against the wall.  The bags were full and tied, and sitting by the back door where she had left them previously.  She lifted her hands to her head and groaned - this house was making her crazy.  She grabbed her bag, coat, and van keys and left.

Arriving in town just after ten and whizzing around the tiny supermarket, Matilda loaded her shopping into the boot.  Remembering she needed to get a mop, and recalling seeing a hardware store when driving down the high street earlier, she nipped back into town.

“Good morning,” she said, to the assistant at the till.  The young girl looked up and smiled.

“Morning,” the assistant replied.

“I’m looking for a mop and bucket?” Matilda asked.

“In the third aisle,” the assistant replied, pointing.

“Thanks.”  Matilda ventured to the third aisle and located the mops and buckets.  She grabbed a blue set, along with some extra strong floor cleaner.

“Is there a tearoom in the town?” she asked, pulling off her glove and paying for her shopping.

“Yeah, Old Mrs Potts, right at the end of the high street,” she replied, pointing left of the door.

“Great, thanks,” Matilda replied, taking her change and slipping back on her glove.

She stuck the floor cleaner inside the bucket and left to look for the tearoom.

Matilda eventually found it tucked back from the road, it was quaint, and double fronted with ‘Old Mrs Potts Tearoom’ written across the front.  Pushing the door open, a bell tinged and a wave of heat covered her, the scent of coffee and toasted teacakes pleasuring her nose.  Closing the door, she made her way to a table at the back of the shop and near to a warm roaring fire crackling away with a welcoming glow.  Putting her mop and bucket down, she took off her coat, pulled off her gloves and sat down.

Matilda perused the menu and decided on tea, and a piece of chocolate cake.  Waiting for the server to take her order, she glanced around the room, observing a couple of elderly women having tea and cakes, and a young mother with her two children eating sandwiches.  Her eyes stopped and settled on a woman about her age with short, cropped fiery red-hair, and a huge pregnant bump.