The Haunting at Hawke's Moor (13 page)

Lisle only stared at her. The mad,
haunted look in Lisle's eyes was slowly receding. Lisle nodded
absently. "You're right. Alfie would never hurt me." Lisle looked
around, anxiety written all over her face.

"It is the spirits. They are toying with
you. They toyed with Alfie and now they're toying with you. Let's
go back inside. I think you should sleep in my bed tonight. We'll
face them together," Anne said more bravely than she felt. "And in
the morning, we'll think what to do."

"He said he was cold," Lisle said in a
whimper. Her face crumpled and fell forward into her hands, crying
as she sunk down on her haunches.

"Alfie would never hurt you," Anne said with
more conviction that she felt. Alfie had hurt Lisle quite severely
when he'd been alive. Still, Anne doubted it was Alfie that was
tormenting Lisle. "Alfie would protect you."

Grudgingly, Lisle let herself be taken back
into the house. Anne pushed the heavy door closed and turned the
lock. "Come. Let's sleep and this night will be over." Lisle was
cold. Anne had no idea how long the girl had been out of bed,
tormented by spirits.

Lisle slumped against Anne's shoulder as
they walked up the stairs, back to Anne's room. Lisle crawled under
the blankets and cried. Walking around the room, Anne burned more
sage, letting Lisle cry in solitude for a moment.

The snowflakes fell outside the
window. It was the first time she'd seen it snow here. The flakes
meandered to the ground in an unending dance. Snow had always been
a happy occasion during the rare times it had happened. They would
go out and revel in it, but here if felt ominous. It felt as if the
spirit world was encroaching, taking over, dragging them deeper
into the dark and cold. Civilization felt even further
away.

Lisle's words haunted her. It was
nauseating to think Alfie was cold and in the dark. Anne prayed—for
them, and for Alfie. Maybe prayers kept the spirits at bay. She
didn't know, but right now she'd take anything.

The house had gone quiet again. Perhaps the
spirits had had enough sport for one night. Lisle was sleeping now;
Anne could hear her breathing. The girl must be exhausted from
grief and the madness it brought.

In the morning, Anne would
have to consider what to do. If the spirits were attacking Lisle as
they had Alfie, Anne had to send her away. But Alfie had invited
them; he’d purposefully doused the sage and welcomed them. Dark
images crept into Anne's mind. She didn't want to think it, but
perhaps the spirits
had
seduced him.

A new level of terror confronted Anne.
This was on a whole new level. Small noises, whispers and the odd
creaking floorboard were one thing. It was frightening, but it was
still at a distance. But seduction suggested something else
entirely—that the spirits could do more than creep around and cause
distress.

A chill traveled up Anne's spine and she put
another log on the fire. How was she to cope without Lisle? How was
she to cope without Alfie? Lisle could secure another position, but
it would take time. Neither of them could afford to place her in a
boarding house. Maybe the Turners could take her in until such time
as she had somewhere to go.

As for herself, there was no choice.
She had nowhere to go. She would have to tell the vicar of her
problems and maybe he could help her find a solution—some way of
removing these spirits. Even as she thought it, she knew he would
think her mad. That was not what clergymen did. She'd end up in
Bedlam, which was probably a worse situation than living in a house
full of ghosts. Maybe she needed to find an actual priest, she
considered, but their interests lay in the demonic rather than with
restless souls.

She had to write to Mr. Harleston
again, see if there was anything further she could do to the house.
There was the possibility that everything would calm again. The
dramatics of the last few days would calm, and so perhaps would the
house. Anne could only hope.

A noise was heard behind her and she turned,
seeing nothing out of the ordinary as her eyes darted around the
room. "Enough tonight," she pleaded. "There has been enough."

She watched for a response, but there was
nothing. Nothing moved, nothing creaked. It was just silent. The
snow continued to fall silently out the window and Anne returned to
the bed, slipping under the blankets, which were welcoming and
warm. Lisle slept peacefully as if she was too exhausted to worry
anymore.

Sighing, Anne tried to calm her mind. For a
moment, she felt safe, as if the spirits had agreed that there had
been enough. Rest was needed by everyone.

Lisle wasn't there when Anne woke up
in the morning and she sat up sharply, the cold air of the room
rushing about her body as she did. Had something happened during
her sleep? Dressing quickly, she rushed downstairs, seeing sunlight
gently filtering through the windows. Nothing seemed out of order
and Anne continued to the kitchen, finding Lisle baking like she
did every day.

"I milked the cow," Lisle said. "I
haven't taken her out to pasture. I think that's a task we need to
share until we can get another field hand. Now, I can take the cow
after I finish here, or do you want to do it?"

Anne didn't know what to say. She'd been
thinking more of how to work through Lisle departure, but Lisle was
acting as if nothing was wrong. Lisle was even discussing replacing
Alfie. Last night, Lisle had been acting like devils were after
her, or rather Alfie, and today, she acted as if it'd had never
happened.

"Lisle, I've been wondering if perhaps it is
better you find a position elsewhere."

"Whatever for?" Lisle said, staring at her
as if it was the most outlandish suggestion.

"It is just that things get difficult in
this house, particularly at night."

"It's just imagination and flights of
fancy," Lisle said dismissively. Well, at least she was
acknowledging the dramatics of the night before. "Besides, you
can't get rid of the staff because you fear whispers in the night.
How are you supposed to live here without a maid?"

"Alfie died."

"He had a bad heart. It was
unfortunately, but there was nothing anyone could do. These things
cannot always be foreseen, the doctor said."

Confronted with such rationality, Anne felt
ridiculous, but not enough to ease her worry. In truth, she still
didn't know what to think, and she needed to work through her
feelings and thoughts on the events of the last few days. Maybe it
was the shock that was making both of them act strangely. "I will
take the cow," Anne said.

Grabbing her coat, Anne walked out into the
yard. The air was fresh and cold. The snow had melted, leaving a
clear, sunny day. Maybe some fresh air was just what she
needed.

Anne stood by the window biting the tip of
her thumb. Everything was calm in the house. To Anne though, it
felt like the calm before the storm, the reprieve before the coming
night. She could be completely wrong. Everything that had happened
could be a reaction to the shock they'd suffered. She'd know
tonight. If things went back to normal, that was that. The house
creaked, the wind whispered and Alfie's death had been an
unfortunate tragedy. Or not…

With a sigh, Anne chewed on her nail
again. The sun was going down. Relentlessly, it kept sinking in the
distance. There was something to be said for the winter sunsets on
the moors. A mist was starting to rise and the pale sunlight showed
its wisps. The temperature would be plunging soon. It was cold
enough that it might snow if clouds rolled in.

Lisle popped her head out of the
kitchen, saying supper was ready and Anne went to join her. The
kitchen was warm from the fire, especially as the temperature in
the house was cooling quickly.

They ate the soup in silence. Lisle seemed
her usual self, typically sullen. At least Lisle was returning to
normal, or seemingly so. All the hurt she felt was now hidden away.
Perhaps that was for the best. They needed to put this behind
them.

After supper, Lisle stayed in the
kitchen as Anne left, taking this time to burn sage around the
house before Lisle had a chance to see her and possibly ridicule
her.

The house was dark and the sparse
light didn't stretch into the shadowed corner. The peaceful feeling
during the day was dissipating and the house felt ominous again. It
felt as if the paintings on the walls were watching her, distant
and disapproving, staring blankly when she paid attention. Maybe
she needed to get rid of those paintings. They had seemed better
than bare walls, but she wasn't sure now, particularly the
portraits. The landscapes and even the battle scenes were not as
worrisome perhaps.

The smoke filled the room. Anne walked
around the parlor, pausing by the large mirror which had damage
stains marring its surface.

"It won't do any good," a voice said
and Anne froze, her breathing stopping. She knew that voice, but
she was too afraid to look. Iciness crept up her spine and her skin
contracted. Her hair from the back of her head and down her arms
stood painfully. She didn't dare look.

Closing her eyes, she wished it would
go away, but she'd heard it so clearly. Drawing in a breath, she
opened her eyes again, seeing Alfie in the mirror. He was looking
straight at her. It wasn't a friendly look, direct and challenging.
He looked pale, almost blue. "Oh, I'm not the one you need to worry
about," he said slowly.

Anne's mouth had gone completely dry and she
couldn't speak even if she wanted to. Her knees threatened to give,
but she was too scared to even fall down. Alfie moved closer,
standing behind her. He was tall. He leaned over to her ear, still
watching her in the mirror. "He's coming for you." He grinned, then
faded.

Panic soared through Anne. She felt like
running, like screaming. Her only instinct was to find Lisle, the
only other person around. Her feet moved and she slipped before
recovering and pushed her way into the kitchen.

"What's the matter with you?" Lisle said.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, which isn't really all that
wonder in a house like this." Lisle snorted.

"I saw him, bright as day," Anne said.
"Alfie; he spoke to me.”

"Don't be stupid," Lisle said sharply.
"You're imagining things. It's this house. It's so lonely, it
drives people mad."

Anne didn't know where to put her hands and
they shifted around her, before settling tightly to her chest. "I
think he threatened me."

"Then it couldn't be Alfie."

"He wasn't the saint you made him out to
be," Anne said harshly, not interested in Lisle's rose-colored view
of the boy.

"Well, you didn't know him. I did."

"I think we need to leave."

"And go where? It's dark and we're miles
from anywhere."

"We could go to the Turners’." Mr.
Turner's warning came back to her, not to go running around the
moors at night. They would get lost and wander aimlessly, probably
freeze to death on a night like this. Maybe that was what the
spirits wanted, to maliciously drive them out of the house to face
their demise on the cold moors.

"You're being ridiculous.
Go to bed. Don't be so weak and give into your paranoia." Lisle
said it with such finality it was clear she didn't want to listen
to anything Anne said. Anne felt offended and scared. Lisle was the
only person who could listen and she refused
to. 
She'd
 seen Alfie the other night and had now dismissed it as
some cocked up delusion, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes
and heart had told her.