[guide.chat] chapter ten in mysterious ways
- From: vanessa <qwerty1234567a@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: "GUIDE CHAT" <guide.chat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Tue, 19 Mar 2013 23:05:46 -0000
IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
Chapter 10
Increasingly often I wondered if Mrs Ashworth was behind all the peculiar
occurrences in this house after all. She could have opened my door, and
changed her voice when she whispered. And she could have lied about the figure
standing next to her bed. But I had seen her afterwards - was she capable of
pretending to be frightened as much as she had appeared on that morning?
And someone had disturbed Ilse. Could that also have been Jane? If it was -
how did she disappear so quickly?
Did she have the courage to creep around at night in the dark, after what had
happened to her? And would she risk being found out? She'd look a fool - what
about her dignity then? Her dignity was important to Jane, and to keep a stiff
upper lip at all times. Even stretched out on the rug in the dining room and
waiting to be propositioned - however ludicrous the situation - Mrs Ashworth
always managed to keep her dignity somehow. If we caught her playing the ghost
she'd look a fool, and must know it.
I could not imagine her taking this risk. And I couldn't imagine her creeping
around the house in the dark, because her fear seemed so genuine.
Ilse agreed with me. But perhaps we applied our own kind of logic, when we
should know by now, the mind of our hostess worked in different ways.
But why would she do such things? And what was behind it all? Or was someone
else playing 'spooks?' And if - then who? Elisabeth was far too young. And
apart from us, there was only Jane.
Perhaps it really was a ghost.
Or could it be someone else, someone who came, unknown to us, into the house?
Was it the 'evil mad woman,' as Jane claimed, coming to finish her off?
The more we considered the evidence, the less we believed Mrs Ashworth was the
culprit, because she appeared so afraid - much more so than we were. Well,
neither Ilse nor I were really afraid - though there had been moments when I
wasn't so sure. The night I heard the voice - it had been decidedly eerie. So
perhaps it was just a ghost after all. This was an old house, and many people
swore they saw ghosts.
And who - or whatever it was - had done no harm. So I got used to the
situation somehow. Ilse had never really been worried, not even when she had
tried to grab the apparition. And the dogs didn't appear disturbed in any way
whatsoever. If a ghost had opened my door, Sheba obviously didn't mind, but
took full advantage. And dogs had an instinct for otherworldly things, I had
heard. So I went full circle in my reasoning, getting nowhere.
Then a new thought occurred to me. Perhaps two different forces were at work.
Both might be human - or perhaps one was a ghost. This would explain why Jane
was so frightened. She could be responsible for some of the things - and then
a ghost did the rest. Or could it be a ghost and Mrs P?
This was getting absurd - I was getting too far into the realms of fantasy and
imagination. I had to remind myself of the facts. And these were: apart from
Elisabeth and Ilse and I, only our employer was in this house. And if she had
not appeared so genuinely frightened, I would have placed all my bets on her.
Suddenly another thought hit me. Could it be Jane, and not know it? Or at
least not know all of it? She definitely had different sides to her - what if
these aspects of her mind were so divided, one part knew nothing about the
others? Perhaps she had no control - no memory even. Could she be in a kind
of altered state sometimes? Her both sides might have a life of their own,
with one side not knowing what the other one did. Was she a female version of
Jekyll and Hyde?
Or had she been sleepwalking when she opened my door and whispered, and when
she went to Ilse's room.
The apparition in her own room could have been just her own hyped up
imagination, induced by too much alcohol mixed with pills, and the constant
fear and pressure she was under. Of one thing I was sure - her fear was real.
Even if I considered all sorts of things possible, I had no doubt Mrs Ashworth
was very afraid. If she was really behind it all, she didn't know it - at
least not all of it - not rationally, or she would not have been so terrified.
And she wouldn't have been so convinced that it was Mrs P, who had been in her
room, wanting to frighten her, and intending to finish off what she had started
three years ago.
Jane believed Mrs P had kept a copy of the keys, and slipped into the house
during the night. She begged us to make sure both doors to the outside were
always securely bolted, particularly at night. The last one coming in had to
make sure the bolts were on.
So we checked the bolts before going to bed, and felt fairly secure again -
until one morning my friend noticed one door was unbolted.
"Have you opened the door this morning, Trudi?" Ilse asked me as I came down
the stairs.
"No," I answered," I just got up."
Elisabeth couldn't have opened it. Even if she had climbed on a chair, she
could not have reached up so high - and this bolt was too heavy for a young
child to push.
Mrs Ashworth was still in bed, but when Ilse asked her later, she assured her
that she had not touched the bolt or the door. She hadn't been downstairs yet.
Jane was concerned, but not frightened - at least not yet - and suggested,
perhaps we had forgotten to bolt the door. We all agreed this must be the
case, and relaxed. But two days later the bolt was open again in the morning.
This time Ilse and I were certain we had bolted the door, we had both checked
it together, on our way to bed. Not only Jane was concerned, we were too.
The thought did cross my mind, that Ilse could be playing a joke. But I knew
her too well - such jokes were not her style.
So, was it Jane? Had it been Jane all along - either deliberately - or walking
in her sleep?
Because we were so sure of having bolted the door, our employer called the
police again. She was assured that an eye was being kept on her property, but
nothing suspicious had been noticed so far. They would be extra watchful - she
could rely on the police.
Indeed their car drove around the grounds late in the evening again, beaming
its lights, and during the following nights too. But it made no difference,
every three or four days we found the door unbolted. It was always the door by
the main staircase, which led up to the bedrooms.
But nothing else happened, as far as we could tell.
The dogs were no help either. Although they sometimes barked during the night,
this was nothing to go by, they had always done that. Anything could start one
dog off, and the others joined in. Mrs Ashworth agreed to leave all the doors
open within the house, so at least two of the dogs could roam during night.
And they did roam and bark. Ilse would get me up, or the other way round, and
we'd investigate - but we never found anything except excited dogs, pleased to
see us at this time of night.
So we suggested that Ilse and I should stay up to watch the door. The dogs
could be with us for safety - even Sheba and Bella on this special occasion.
They would frighten off anything, because of their enormous size and ferocious
bark. We'd take a bottle of whisky to give us courage - and torches - and a
sandwich or two - we got quite carried away, talking about it. But Mrs
Ashworth put an end to our plan.
"I can not allow it," she said firmly. "You girls are under my protection, I
am responsible for you. I am not consenting to put your lives at risk. This
woman is dangerous. And you can believe me - I know what I am talking about."
And though we argued a few of the points, it was no use. Mrs Ashworth
insisted, if she could not keep guard, it would not be fair to let us do, what
she would not. And she was not up to it. This was the end of our exciting
plan, as we didn't want to go against her expressed wishes.
Besides, the bolt wasn't pushed back every night, so we might have had to lay
in wait several nights - and that could get boring, and tiring too. So we
abandoned this idea reluctantly, and accepted that probably we tried chasing a
ghost anyway. It was better learning to live with it.
Apart from the bolts, nothing else spooky happened for a few weeks. But other
strange things did occur.
One evening, after my English class, I went out with a few of the girls. We
stayed until the pub closed, and it was already past midnight when I came back
to the Manor.
I unlocked the door, bolted it behind me, and walked through the quiet dark
corridor to the kitchen. Usually a light was left on. But I saw no light in
the corridor or in the hall, which meant Mrs Ashworth and Ilse must already be
upstairs, probably in bed. The house was totally quiet but nothing seemed
wrong, even the dogs didn't bark but came up to me silently, making a fuss,
wanting to be stroked. So I stroked them, told them to be good, and made my
way to the kitchen, where I could still see a light. I needed a cup of tea,
before taking Sheba and Bella up to their room. Pushing the door open wider, I
suddenly froze and my heart missed a beat. Here in the kitchen was a man, with
his back to me. He sat in a chair, his arms on the table in front of him, with
his head resting on them. He seemed asleep.
I didn't know what to do. Who was he? Was he a burglar - or the creep who had
opened my door and the bolts, playing the spook? Could he be one of Mrs
Ashworth's visitors, who had ended up in the kitchen somehow, and fallen
asleep? Did she know about this man? What should I do?
I decided to leave him where he was, and to ask Mrs Ashworth.
Even if she went to bed, Mrs Ashworth always stayed awake if one of us was
still out, claiming she was responsible for us. I found this strange, having
been responsible for myself for many years, and told her so. But it made no
difference, and because no one had ever waited up for me, I was touched,
finding it quite sweet of her. Anyway, whatever I said, she always stayed
awake to be sure we were all right, as she put it.
So I knew Jane would still be awake, as I walked through the dark quiet house
once more, up the staircase and along the corridor to her bedroom. Her door
was slightly open; as always, when she waited for Ilse or me. I knocked and
went in. Jane was already in bed, but still reading.
"Mrs Ashworth," I began.
She looked up. "Oh, I am glad you are back safely, Trudy," she clearly
intended to start chatting, but I interrupted her.
"There is a man in the kitchen," I told her.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Do you know about the man in the kitchen?"
She looked at me, as if I'd gone mad. "What man in the kitchen?" At least
that answered my question.
"He is sitting at the kitchen table, asleep." Now, as I began thinking about
it, I hoped, he was only asleep.
Mrs Ashworth hesitated, obviously lost for words. I didn't know what to say
either - but the man down there couldn't be ignored and just left.
"Let's go down and wake him," I suggested. But Jane was not ready to face a
strange man in her kitchen.
"Give me the whisky bottle, Trudi, please," she said. "And get yourself a
glass from the table."
Against the wall stood a small table, and on it, amongst other things, were
several clean glasses. I took one, and Jane poured a hefty slug of the amber
liquid into it, and into her own glass as well, which still stood next to her
on the bedside table. We both drank deeply and put our glasses back down.
Then we looked at each other.
"Let's go down now," I said again.
But Jane was still not quite ready. She finished the whisky, poured herself
another glass, and drank that one down too. "Come on, Trudi," she said.
"Drink up."
I did as I was told and she refilled my glass and hers again too. "Cheers,"
she said.
"Cheers," I replied, and followed her example, drinking the whisky down in one
go. The situation did not seem so urgent anymore - after all, the man was
asleep - and there were four guard dogs down there - well, four dogs anyway.
And three of them were big and they all could bark, and who knows what else
these dogs might do, if they were roused sufficiently, or sensed any danger.
At least they could frighten the man, should he move.
The dogs had been silent when I came in. They only barked when people came to
the back door - which made me think, because the open bolt was always on the
front door. However it was, the dogs would not resolve this situation, we had
to act.
"If you don't want to go down, Mrs Ashworth, I'll wake Ilse, and she can come
with me. You stay here," I suggested kindly.
But Jane shook her head. "It is my responsibility," she insisted. "I must go
down. Are you coming Trudi?"
"Yes," I just replied. I would not want to miss this for anything. Now, after
several drinks, I was not afraid at all, only curious and vaguely amused. This
was turning into a farce, I thought. After all, if this was a dangerous
criminal, he would hardly have sat down and fallen asleep. But then another
thought occurred to me: what if the man was not asleep - what if something had
happened to him - what if he was dead?
"Come on Mrs Ashworth," I said, feeling decidedly worried now. "Let's go and
wake him."
My employer got out of bed, and put a thick dressing gown on - this was not an
occasion for frivolity and the pink and black lace negligee. After taking
another deep swallow of whisky, she put the bottle under her arm and together
we crept down the stairs, with Jane shining a beam of light from a torch she'd
picked up, to show us the way.
Nothing stirred in the house. We didn't turn the lights on, not wanting to
warn the intruder. The dogs sidled quietly up to us; only Pipsi gave a small
yap as we approached. There was no other noise. Silently we made our way to
the kitchen, Mrs Ashworth leading the way, the torch in one hand, her bottle of
whisky - half empty now - in the other. By the open kitchen door she halted,
and I looked over her shoulder. Everything was as before. The light was still
on, and the man still sat there, with his head resting on his arms on the table.
Jane looked at me and I looked at her, and it was quite clear to me, she didn't
know how to handle this situation. But neither did I. "Do you know him?" I
whispered.
She shook her head. "I don't think so," she hesitated. "Well - I can't really
tell from behind, without seeing his face."
The man slept on soundly and didn't move. He did not look dead - but neither
could I hear any breathing. Jane and I just stood there, unable to decide what
to do. Then I thought, enough is enough, and took the initiative. I went
further into the kitchen and around the table, to face the man, followed
closely by Mrs Ashworth.
"Good evening," I said in a loud voice, feeling foolish, but not knowing what
else to say or do. Just then, all I wanted to know was, if he was dead.
He was not. His head jerked up and he looked at us, his eyes blurred and
unfocused at first, as if he had no idea where he was, or who we were. And we
must have made a strange pair, with me fully dressed, and Jane behind me in her
dressing gown, holding a whisky bottle as if to club him, and shining the torch
in his face. And around us were four dogs - three of them enormous - and all
of us staring at him in silence, until Pipsi, as if on cue, started yapping and
jumping around.
"Hallo," the man said. And that was that.
"What are you doing in my house?" Jane had found her voice finally and took
over the control, as no immediate danger seemed to come from this man.
"I came for a drink," he just said. And, seeing our surprised expressions, he
enquired politely: "This is Highmoor Manor?"
Mrs Ashworth nodded. "But who are you?" she asked, and, looking at him again,
she added: "have we met?"
"I am Charles Horton," he stood up as if to introduce himself formally. But as
he made one step towards Jane and moved his right arm, wanting to shake hands,
she retreated, feeling threatened. The stranger stopped mid-way.
"I have been here before, with Phillip Stonehouse," he said instead, trying to
placate her. "You told us to come anytime."
And so he had come anytime.
Slowly a light was beginning to dawn. Open house, he had come once before,
with Phillip, one of the men who often visited. He'd met Jane, who told him to
come again anytime soon, as she always said to the men. So he came again.
Only nobody else had come on this evening. And he arrived very late - Ilse was
already in bed and Mrs Ashworth had gone to bed exceptionally early.
Obviously, on his previous visit Mr Horton had not impressed her enough to
remember him. But as her visitors often brought friends along and Jane did
drink large quantities of whisky, this could have happened quite easily.
As the good hostess she was again now, Mrs Ashworth chatted for a few minutes
with our visitor, checking him out, asking about Phillip Stonehouse and his
family. As everything seemed above board, she sent me for glasses and began
pouring the whisky.
I was glad of another drink, but Charles Horton declined, shaking his head.
Clearly he was very embarrassed - as he should be, I thought. "No, thank you,"
he said, "I've already had enough. I really must apologise, I should not have
come."
But I couldn't let him escape that easily - I wanted to know how he got in. He
told us, after ringing the bell he had pushed the door, and when it opened, he
walked in. He saw a light coming from the kitchen, so he made his way there.
It was as simple as that.
Obviously, he was familiar with the customs of open house, and the men in the
pub had probably encouraged him. And after all, he had been here before and
received an invitation to come again anytime. So, on the way home, he decided
to come in for a drink. Unfortunately he had already drunk too much, and when
he didn't find anyone in, he had sat down at the table to think what to do and
had fallen asleep. He sounded sincere and reasonable, and quite upper class,
and was very apologetic if still slightly drunk.
But this still didn't explain why the front door had been unlocked - and it
must have been, or Mr Horton could not have pushed it open. I did lock it,
when I went out. And it was locked, when I came back.
The man left, apologising once more as I took him to the door. I locked up
after him and pushed the bolt home. When I came back to the kitchen, I found
Jane still sitting by the table, wide awake. I was not sleepy either, after
this adventure, so I sat down with her. She handed me a full glass. "Cheers,
Trudi," she said. We looked at each other, smiled, and began laughing out
loud. And then we each took a big gulp of the whisky and discussed it all
again, relieved it turned out as it had. There was, after all, a simple
explanation for this intruder.
But who had unlocked the door - and who had locked it again?
from
Vanessa The Google Girl.
my skype name is rainbowstar123
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