The House on Blackstone Moor (The Blackstone Vampires) (11 page)

“I wonder what’s keeping him?” she asked as she wrung her hands.

“Perhaps he is just late in leaving.”

He often did go in on Saturdays. And we did hear he was to go to Marsh this Saturday. “I shall be home early, I am sure.”

When I heard him say that I was delighted for I knew how pleased Alice would be.

“The roads might be bad.” I said this knowing full-well that the rain hadn’t really been too bad.

She shook her head and gave me a tremulous smile but didn’t reply.

The tension was awful as the hours wore on—finally her mood began to affect my own.

It got so bad that by half-nine I stood up to say I had to turn in for I could not stand the long silences any longer.

She nodded toward me and mumbled a good night.

I left her then, and though I did go immediately to bed, I found I could not sleep so I stole quietly into the hall. I could see her sitting in silence, her head down—as if her world had come to an end.

My heart broke for her. Best turn in, I thought. But then as I made my way back to my room I glanced into hers as the door was open. There on the bed was a journal. It was open.

I walked inside to read it.

If I read it standing in the hall, and heard her, I would have enough time to put it back and slip into my room.

This is one of the two entries I read.

10 April.

I fear he has not dissociated himself from them, those whose names I have sworn not to mention. How many times have I begged him to break away? Too many to count. Yet he says he loves me and will listen, but I fear he does not. There is no telling how it will end.

Sometimes when I am at my lowest, I think I cannot go on. And yet, I can’t bring myself to do something dramatic which actually would end my suffering for once and for all. How much more must I endure?

Why won’t he listen—why—?

I stopped reading then for I could hear her on the stairs. I put the journal down exactly as I had found it and dashed into my room.

I heard her sobbing and closing the door. I could well imagine what other sad entries she would write.

But what was she writing about? What did she mean? I kept going over it in my mind.

If only I could ask her.

By the way, Alice—I happened to notice your journal lying on your bed and I perused it. I hope you don’t mind!

Of course I couldn’t do that.

I was awake thinking until nearly dawn. That was when I finally heard Dr. Bannion’s carriage. I flew to the window to see him alight from it.

I think I would have thought he was with a woman if I hadn’t read the journal, and Mrs. Mott writing of people she didn’t approve of. There was such an undercurrent of terrible fear there as well, unrestrained terror, I thought. But what was it she feared?

I shall make another confession now. I did wish to know. The drive to know was so great that I waited until I heard his voice call to her.

She didn’t answer him immediately. But then she said something like, “Well, I can’t force you.”

He spoke and then I heard the sound of the door being closed. He’d gone in.

I stepped into the hall to listen. Looking back on it now I realize I could have been discovered and it makes me shudder to think of it. But my need to know was too great, you see.

It sounded to me as though he was soothing her, trying to assuage her worry, for clearly she sounded nearly hysterical as the tone of her voice reached an ever higher pitch.

At last he grew annoyed for I heard him clearly say, “Oh, for God sakes, Alice! How you do go on!”

She shouted back at him, “God! That’s rich coming from you, you insane bastard! Don’t you know what you do?”

I dashed back into my room and gently closed the door, which was just as well because I heard him come out into the hall. He closed her door none too quietly.

There was something brewing, I knew. Something dark and evil.

Then, I remembered speaking of it to Dr. Bannion recently when I told him of the evil my father had brought in—that presence I had come to recognize.

Familiar dread crept up my spine and that icy chill made me shiver.

N
ow, even here
,
at this time and in this place, it was again so close as if to touch me. Would I ever be free of it?

My immediate concern was what I read in the journal
. How
could I trust Dr. Bannion after that? And I reasoned, if I could not trust him, how could I take a position he recommended me for?

Yet, there was so much at stake for I would not consider returning to Marsh or starving in the streets.

Now, in the bright light of day and with my position hanging in the balance, I found I was prepared to rationalize my fears away.

If Alice Mott was having an affair with Dr. Bannion and kept a diary to record her probably erroneous observations and conclusions concerning sinister goings on with him, that was up to her and had nothing to do with me.

After all, I was only staying in Dr. Bannion’s home temporarily. From there I would be going to take up my position at Blackstone House.

I had no family or friends—and had it not been for Dr. Bannion’s kind intervention on my behalf I should have been in an awful quandary.

Perhaps in retrospect, I was doing more than rationalizing. I was giving Dr. Bannion the benefit of any doubt and quite frankly, I was considering Alice Mott as  unreliable. Why, therefore, I reasoned, should I be swayed by such an untrustworthy person?

Despite all of this, I felt terribly sorry for her.

She looked sad and very drawn and pale. “I’d like to wish you the very best of luck,” she said as she took my hand. “For you deserve nothing less!”

“Nor you, Alice. Remember that!”

Her eyes shone with tears when I said that. “You best go now, the carriage is outside.”

It was and with Dr. Bannion alongside it. “Don’t you look lovely!”

After thanking him, I turned and caught a glimpse of Alice at the window.

And then we were off. Whatever happened, would happen.

*

“I think you will enjoy the ride. There is wonderful scenery to see, farms and rolling hills and some lovely villages. If you like we can stop for some luncheon on the way.

“That would be lovely.”

Listen to me, I thought. I sounded like a lady and not a frightened girl which in many ways I was.

We eventually did stop on the way at a small country tavern. It was called the Duke of York and it was quite rustic but attractive, too. The gentlemen, if I may call them that, were much taken with me. Dr. Bannion noticed and smiled.

We took our seats and our driver sat elsewhere, of course. This is England, remember.

The tavern keeper, a fat-cheeked jolly sort of fellow, brought tea for me and ale for Dr. Bannion, as well as some fine steak and kidney pies.

I couldn’t remember enjoying myself as much as I did, although I did feel uncomfortable with the long pauses in conversation.

Polite chit chat can be terribly difficult at the best of times and under these circumstances, with me anxious anyway, I was nearly speechless.

Mercifully, we were soon on the road again. I knew how much closer we were getting as Dr. Bannion kept me abreast of such matters. But, the closer we got the more anxious I felt.

Suddenly—and I shall never forget this—he said, “Look there, you can see it from here!”

I looked out to see the most amazing sight I had ever seen in my life—a great stone house looming up before us, a house literally in the middle of nowhere. “Are those the gardens?”

It seemed they were the most beautiful gardens. I couldn’t see the flowers, we were too far away, and all I could see were great splashes of brilliant color.

“Yes, they are, Rose. And wait till you see the roses in summer. Mrs. Darton is very proud of her roses.”

And then we drew closer still and I saw it was indeed beautiful yet it seemed entirely out of place, for it gave the impression of something lovely that had been obliged to hover on the edge of desolation—like something about to be sucked into oblivion and beyond.

“It has an air of mystery about it.”

“Indeed it does,” Dr. Bannion replied.

An odd remark, but I didn’t question it then.

The carriage stopped and I beheld a beautiful property—elegant and stately too, with a portico and majestic Grecian columns. It could have been the home of a lord and his lady.

“What do you think of it, Rose?”

“I think I’ve never seen a more impressive building in my life!”

I would have wanted time to study it, but the front door opened and a solemn-faced woman stepped outside. She was dressed in black with no apron. I imagined she was the housekeeper. She came toward us when Dr. Bannion stepped out to help me down.

“Keeping well, Mrs. Sternwood?”

What a perfect name for her, I thought—for she was grim-faced, even when she smiled, as the smile did nothing to soften her features.

Oh dear, I thought—
I hope she isn’t like Marsh’s staff.

“Rose, this is Mrs. Sternwood.”

I expected her to smile; she did but only briefly. “The new governess.”

I wanted to add,
I hope so.

“Mrs. Darton is with the children at present.”

Her eyes regarded me coolly, as though she were choosing a roast for Sunday dinner and wanted to be careful about her choice.

She motioned for us to come inside. “Molly has set out some provisions already. This way, if you please.”

I followed Dr. Bannion into the great house.

I wasn’t prepared for the hall. It was circular, marble floored with gleaming Greco-Roman statues all around. “It’s beautiful!”

Oh, why did I say that? She’d have thought me a peasant for certain. And I didn’t wish her to, for I was proud of my new position.

Dr. Bannion and I had discussed it: “Some governesses don’t even have their own room nor do they eat with the family, but Mrs. Darton is not like that. You will have your own room, and quite a nice one it is too as I understand it.”

I was thrilled yet somewhat frightened. The idea of sitting with the family to eat was overwhelming. I hadn’t exactly arrived from boarding school. My most recent tablemates were lunatics and half-mad creatures who lived in their own little worlds.

“They do understand…”

I had asked him for reassurance so often, I don’t know how he didn’t run out of patience. “Of course, Rose. They like you.” He was watching me now with an amused smile. “Quite a lovely home, don’t you think?”

“Oh I do, sir!”

Mrs. Sternwood was regarding me again with those hooded eyes of hers. “If you’d like to go into the dining room
,
I will tell Mrs. Darton you’re here.”

Mrs. Darton? I was hoping that Mr. Darton would be about. Yes, I know. I was so hoping to see him, just a glimpse would do.

I glanced at Dr. Bannion, wishing I could confide all of my secret thoughts, but I knew I could not.

After all, who was I to have these desires? I had no right for so many reasons.

Knowing this, my heart still leapt when Dr. Bannion asked, “Well, isn’t Mr. Darton about at all?”

“No, sir. He is due back later.”

“I see. It must be important business that calls him away.”

He led me further inside.

If I thought the entrance hall impressive, I wasn’t prepared for the dining room. It was magnificent. The walls were covered in scarlet, which brought out the richness of the mahogany sideboard and chairs. The table was set for us, with glittering gilt china and crystal. I tried not to gawk.

Mrs. Sternwood suggested we sit. She seemed disappointed we had already eaten but suggested the soup, which Dr. Bannion quite agreed would be lovely.

I expected we would not dine alone but Mrs. Sternwood told us that Mrs. Darton and the children had already had theirs.

“Aren’t they eating with us?” I asked Dr. Bannion. He smiled and shrugged.

Molly the cook served us. She seemed somewhat less horrible than Mrs. Sternwood but not much.

A man came in later to clear away. His name was Tom and he was Molly’s husband. A more sulky looking man I have never seen.

Dr. Bannion said he wasn’t the most affable handywright or all-duties man, but he did his job and wasn’t ever drunk.

Mrs. Darton and the children came in a short time later. She greeted Dr. Bannion and asked me how I found the trip then she introduced first her son and then her daughter.

They were beautiful children but quite delicate, I thought. Much more so than other children—they were dark haired with the lightest green eyes I had ever seen.

The little girl rushed over to me and took my hand. “I am Ada, Miss Baines, and I am so delighted you have come here.”