Deadlight-Hall(100)
‘Just a crumb or two,’ said Michael. ‘But she still kept Esther imprisoned, even when she knew she was innocent.’
‘But what was the alternative by then?’ said Nell. ‘Esther was completely insane, poor woman. If they hadn’t deported her, they’d have thrown her into one of those appalling Victorian asylums.’
‘Professor?’
Leo was leaning back in his chair. His eyes were in shadow, and it was a moment before he spoke. Then he said, ‘Those two girls …’
‘I know,’ said Nell at once. ‘I can’t bear it either.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘I think we saw them. As we were leaving the Hall tonight.’
‘Two small girls, with long chestnut hair?’ said Leo.
‘Yes.’ Nell looked at him in surprise. ‘They were a bit blurred, but just for a moment they were there.’
‘They were going away from the house,’ said Michael. He was looking at Leo, as well. ‘Hand in hand – as if they were going quite freely and – well, almost happily.’
‘One of them turned and put up a hand as if saying goodbye,’ said Nell.
‘I didn’t know you’d seen that,’ said Michael, turning to look at her.
‘I didn’t know you had, either.’
The moment lengthened. Nell thought: there’s something behind this – something the professor hasn’t told us. But perhaps it’s something he doesn’t want to tell us. With the idea of smoothing this over, she said, ‘There’s just a couple more pages of the journal – although I shouldn’t think there’s any more to tell.’
‘Professor, are you all right to stay with this?’ asked Michael, and Nell heard the note of concern in his voice and knew that he, too, had picked up that sudden spike of emotion when the professor had asked about the two small girls she and Michael had seen.
But Leo said, ‘Of course I am. Please finish reading, Nell. But I’ll have a half glass more wine, if I may?’ He glanced at Michael. ‘Yes, I am supposed to be driving back to College,’ he said. ‘But if necessary I’ll call a taxi and leave the car here. I think my reputation will allow me this one gaudy night. Let’s finish the journal and wind up the spell.’
Maria wrote in the last pages:
Today I came to Deadlight Hall for the last time. I cannot say why I did so, for I am not given to sentimentality or emotional farewells. There was no reason for me to enter the house ever again. It is closed up – the children gone to different homes and different employers. Even the Wilger boy has found a home – one of John Hurst’s cousins, so I hear, and Douglas will help with the writing of letters and keeping of accounts.
It was strange to walk through the village again this morning, and to see our old shop. A distant cousin of Mr Porringer’s took it over – the name is still over the door, which Mr Porringer would be glad to see. As to the cousin, I make no comment, but most of the men in that family were sadly weak.
I had expected Deadlight Hall to be deserted and empty, but as I reached the courtyard I saw someone was ahead of me. A thin rain was falling – I had needed my umbrella – and there were wet footprints on the steps leading up to the front door. My heart began to beat faster. The main doors were slightly ajar, and after a moment I pushed them wide and went inside.
The hall was dim and silent, but the house did not feel empty. Standing there I had the strong impression that someone watched me – someone who crouched on the stairs in a twisted, hunched-over way, and someone who had walked these rooms, calling for the children.
With the thought, a faint soft whisper formed on the silence.
‘Children, are you here?’
She’s still here, I thought in horror. Esther Breadspear, who it was believed butchered her two young daughters, and who cheated the hangman – not once, but three times. No, four times in all. Thrice in the execution shed, and once again in the attics.
I do not believe in ghosts – I should like that understood by anyone who ever reads this. But if ever a soul had cause to haunt, then surely that is Esther.
The line of damp footprints went across the hall and up the main stairs. There was no reason why I should follow them. If someone was here, it was none of my business, not now, not ever.
But I went quietly up the stairs to the first floor. As I reached it, the whisper came again, and with it, the sound of someone struggling to breathe. Esther, I thought. Strangled on the end of a rope.
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