The House on Blackstone Moor (The Blackstone Vampires) (30 page)

This quite shocked me, coming from a vicar. “I don’t know, I think perhaps—I don’t know.”

What
did
I think? Had I ever known or suspected that theirs hadn’t been a marriage based on love? “I was after all barely nineteen when—”

He interrupted me, gently but firmly. “Did your mother confide in you?”

I thought back and remembered she had rather begun to. “I do recall her telling me things when she thought me mature enough.”

“Personal things?”

Not too personal. Why was he asking me that? “I used to hear her crying sometimes and when I asked if I might help her because I wished so to help, she’d sigh and smile and say that I couldn’t help, that no one could and then she’d try to pass it all off so I wouldn’t worry.”

But something nagged at my brain, a distant memory. “Just now, I thought of something. You see, he began to stay out all night, he had women… coarse women my mother called them. She told him to his face and he beat her for it. And we all cried. That is, the little ones wept, for I had flung myself at him! He pulled me off and looked at me so strangely, I turned away. It was his eyes. I didn’t like the look I saw there…a look of
desire!”

I thought I quite shocked him, for he had risen to his feet. I watched as he opened a cupboard. “I see no harm in you taking this.”

He was handing me spirits. Normally I rarely drank but I was happy to this time. “Thank you, sir.”

It was hot and burning but comforting, too. I felt myself begin to relax, and better able to speak. I think I sat there for hours, confiding in this man.

At last, after a modest meal of soup and dumplings, we were ready to adjourn. “I think that is quite enough for today, Rose. There’s all the time in the world to talk about whatever it is you wish, and
remember my child. I am a man of God and shall be your greatest confidant and friend if you wish it for as long as you please.”

I thanked him, although for some reason, I began to feel deeply troubled and didn’t know why.

Odd how something might be troubling yet at the same time there are doubts about just how troubling it is
.

In my case, it began with a thought, or perhaps an emotion. It related to how I was beginning to feel about the vicar.

Of course, telling him about my past was difficult as I knew it would be, yet there was something else that bothered me.

I bade him goodnight and took a candle with me. He had given me the attic room, explaining he hadn’t another to spare unless I preferred the parlor.

“You’ll be cozy up there. It’s quiet too and you won’t hear an old man pacing at night because he cannot sleep!”

He had shown me the room earlier. It was small. Just a tiny little space no larger than a cupboard, but I was grateful—I don’t mean to sound as if I wasn’t.

In a way it was cozy. It certainly was clean and not damp, although a mite stuffy, so I opened the window.

The room faced the front of the church yard. It pleased me to see the ancient gravestones which looked eerie in the moonlight.

Those who slept underneath those grim stones no longer struggled. Their trials were ended whereas mine had barely begun.

My life had nearly ended, yet I felt somehow there was a purpose to it, that it was fate’s firm declaration that I should survive.

I felt thoughtful and dreamy and I think I must have stood at that window for quite some time. I was at last ready to blow out my candle when I heard a door open. I looked down to see light upon the walkway.

For some reason I blew out the candle for I wished to have anonymity.

I have no idea what I expected to see; all I knew was that I wanted to continue looking.

It was then that I heard the vicar’s voice. “Yes, of course. It is up to the master.”

The master
. I thought that sounded odd.

I wanted to see who was there. I didn’t have to wait long for suddenly a man and a woman appeared, but I could not tell what they really looked like as I looked straight down at them from my high window.

But as they moved down the path toward the road, I was better able to see. I judged them to be middle aged.

A carriage pulled up then and they stepped inside but not before turning to look at the church.

When they both glanced up toward the roof, my heart nearly stopped. I pulled back, shaking, for I had the impression they had seen or known they were being watched.

A sick feeling came over me. I felt so ill and nervous that I was up to see the dawn.

*

I found him in the kitchen, sitting by the fire, writing. When he noticed me, he stopped. “There is fresh tea in the pot. Pour yourself some. You will forgive me whilst I do this paper work. Just something I need to catch up on.”

I assured him I would and sat down. Truly, I wanted to ask him who those people were but as it was not my business, I did not.

He stopped writing at last. “I hope my company did not disturb you, Miss Baines—they left rather late.” I watched him carefully fold and put the paper in between the pages of a book he placed on the mantelpiece.  “Sometimes I grant people late appointments if the matter they wish to discuss is of importance. I felt theirs was.

“No, sir. They didn’t disturb me.”

“I was wondering because I noticed they glanced up toward your room when they were leaving.”

Why were his eyes searching mine like that, as if he knew my thoughts? It was so disconcerting I inwardly shuddered.

“Yes,” he went on. “Mr. and Mrs. Kean run the village school. She is the teacher there and Mr. Kean is the Headmaster. Mrs. Kean is such a dear, she often cooks for me. I depend on her a great deal.  Perhaps you’d enjoy meeting them.”

I answered as was expected, but I couldn’t help thinking—why would people like that need to see the vicar at such an odd time?

“Yes, I’m afraid people come to me when they need to. I am, after all, a Vicar of Christ.”

I took this as an invitation to unburden myself even more. “Yes, of course.” I answered. “I thank you for listening to me.”

Then, as if to encourage more confessing, he replied. “I am always ready to listen and give advice. Just remember that.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and he excused himself, saying it was probably the organist about some matter. I couldn’t help but estimate how long he might be, hoping I might have enough time to dash over to the mantelpiece to look at his writing.

It wasn’t that I wanted to catch him at anything. It was more to reassure myself that there wasn’t anything wrong. You see, I wanted to dispel the wave of suspicion that had begun to fester within me about him.

When I at last heard his voice in greeting, I stood. The paper was in my hands in a second and I began to read.

“….all of us are bound. We know this and have pledged ourselves. Of course, there is an impediment. So unexpected was this, I had to consult with the others.

They agreed with me to call a meeting at once, not at Evensong, for that would be sacrilegious. Old habits die hard, I think…”

I wanted to read more but there was no time, for I heard the door and the vicar’s voice calling out, “Miss Baines, come here. I should like you to meet someone!”

I put the paper back where he’d put it and hurried out.

A shy looking man stood by the vicar.

“This is Mr. Henry Wardlaw, our organist.” The vicar looked proud to introduce him.

“Mr. Wardlaw is new to the parish. We were lucky to engage him.”

I smiled, though I wished really to go. I felt shy and uncomfortable. Apparently my old self was re-surfacing.

“I was just telling Mr. Wardlaw about my guest.”

Vicar Hobbs proceeded to introduce us. Then he smiled and suggested that perhaps I might enjoy the special Bible study he was planning. “I really don’t want to take a no on this, as I think you would benefit greatly from it. Mr. Wardlaw will be there as well as my friends, the Keans.”

I was trapped and he knew it. “Of course, I would love that. When is it?”

“Just after tea.” The vicar answered. Then he rubbed his hands gleefully and excused himself.

Before I could think of anything to say, Mr. Wardlaw spoke. “I live with my elderly mother. She is an invalid. We only moved to the village last week.”

I smiled politely though I wished to leave. Something about him was making me nervous.

But his voice droned on as he told me the most boring things, all about himself and his music and his mother, too.

At last Reverend Hobbs returned to escort him out of the rectory.

As I walked back to the kitchen I began to question my own feelings. Here I was a guest, a refugee who had come seeking advice. I had not only been given it; I had been given a haven as well.

In short, I had known nothing but kindness and understanding from Reverend Hobbs, yet I strongly felt something was wrong.

But was I right to feel that way? Perhaps something was wrong with me and no one else.  Perhaps my soul had been tainted by my father’s evil. It was possible. After all, who was I to judge this man or question his motives?

I decided to have a more open mind. I would, I decided, read the Bible and write down any questions I had. This resolve made me feel better as I prepared to spend the rest of the day in a higher pursuit.

Maybe I had dwelled too long on evil not to see the good that was all around me. I feared that such foolishness might be another kind of evil.

At last it was time for tea and Reverend Hobbs remarked on how much better I looked. “And I do believe your appetite has improved as well, Miss Baines. I am glad to see you eat all your food.”

“It is good food, sir.”

“Mrs. Kean is a wonderful cook and so kind and thoughtful to do this on a regular basis for me. She is quite the treasure.”

At last the clock struck seven and we assembled in the church hall for Bible study. Mr. Wardlaw was there and greeted me warmly. So too were the people I had seen the night before.

“My young guest,” Rev. Hobbs said, introducing me to the headmaster and his wife. They each greeted me warmly, saying how very kind the vicar was and how the village had come to rely on him so.

At last the lesson got underway as Reverend Hobbs began. “We shall discuss sin today…”

The topics that were brought up I thought were unsuitable for mixed company. I wanted to ask what the reference was, but found I felt ill, dizzy—someone came over to me and asked me if I’d care to lie down.

I think it was Mrs. Kean. “There child, come along.”

I tried to stand but my legs gave way under me and I slumped down into a chair.

“She’s not well. Give her some water…”

That sounded like a good idea.

Someone, I think it was Mrs. Kean, coaxed me to drink. “Go on my dear, you will feel better.”

“But it’s bitter…” I didn’t want it and pushed her hand away. But then she grew ever more insistent.

“No, please!”

Suddenly I felt surrounded by them. Someone was holding me down and forcing me to drink!

Reverend Hobbs smiled at me. “It’s alright
,
dear; it’s just some laudanum and something else to make you sleep. You’ve had some in your dinner.”

“Well, take it away! I don’t want it, it smells so sweet!”

“Ah! That is the mandrake you are smelling, it is an aphrodisiac.”

“A
what?”

I opened my eyes wide in terror to see Hobbs leering at me. “Oh yes, I have changed, I have been shown the light of the true way, young woman.”

“What?”

He began to explain then and as he did, the chanting started. But it was Hobbs’s voice I was concentrating on.  “When you last came, he was here—I was fighting it then. I didn’t understand, but I did eventually after he showed me. Come on now, open your mouth!”

I squirmed and pushed his hand away, but he called for help and soon I felt more hands holding me down.

I clenched my teeth but someone held my nose then and when I gasped for breath I felt something squirt down my throat, choking me.

There was no point in protesting. I was feeling groggy and confused and although I still tried to push them away, I found that I could not.

Someone hoisted me up. “Where am I going?”

There was no answer forthcoming. I tried to see where they were taking me. I realized I was being led into the hall and down some stairs.

Suddenly there was the sound of chanting again. I began to struggle furiously for I didn’t like the way it sounded. “No, please!”

“Oh but you must come, you are our honored guest, my dear.”

I felt my head fall forward as I slumped to my knees. Truly I could no longer walk at all but had to be dragged.

The chanting grew louder as a door was flung open.

“Look, Rose. Look and see the master!”

Ahead of me, black robed people stood in a circle.