Read Online Life and Death of the Wicked Lady Skelton by Rowland Hughes - Free Book Online
Authors: Rowland Hughes
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was âhauntedâ.
It is impossible to say at what age, exactly, she became aware of this. That she should become aware, however, was inevitable, in spite of Nanny Callaghanâs unceasing vigilance. There had been a period, in fact, in her childhood, when she was about eight years old, when the obscure forces that lurked in the background of her home had obtruded themselves most unceremoniously upon her childish consciousness.
It is said by those who occupy themselves with psychical research that these supernormal phenomena occur, if not in regular cycles, at least in periods of varying intensity. Dormant for a number of years, they become suddenly active, for no ascertainable reason.
Something of this kind must have happened at Maryiot Cells at this time. The details, as far as they can be gathered from family diaries and recollections, are blurred, but it appears that several guests curtailed their visits abruptly; there was a rapid succession of kitchenmaids (then as now highly impressionable creatures); pet dogs behaved in a hysterical manner; a carpenter was summoned to find out why doors opened that should have remained shut, and what combination of loose boards, wind or rats could cause a sound resembling âsix quick young footstepsâ (the phrase is from Sir Wilfridâs journal), rappings, something stirring and rustling, uncouth whisperings and mutterings.
It was about this time too that a window in one of the turrets was blocked up. The room which it illuminated was only used for storing trunks. Even so, its deliberate darkening might have seemed a senseless action â what more aggravating than to stumble and rummage about among trunks and portmanteaux with a candle? The fact was that a good deal of silly talk was being spread around in the village about the light that shone out mysteriously from that window near the midnight hour.
Sir Wilfrid himself, muffled in an ulster, 5 and accompanied by the butler carrying a gun (rather an unnecessary precaution in the circumstances, one would have supposed) had waited for several hours one night between the entrance court and the beech avenue, and the light had been clearly visible to both master and man. The ânasty, unaccountable thing about itâ, as the butler had confided to the housekeeper next day, was that the light had wavered and moved, for all the world as though whoever bore it had passed several times before the window. And this though the trunk-room door was locked beyond all doubt, and the key lying in Sir Wilfridâs vest pocket.
The nurseries at Maryiot Cells were situated in the more modern, that is to say late eighteenth century, wing of the house, which may explain why Isabella, naturally knowing nothing of these singular disturbances which were perplexing her elders, was not made aware of them till a measles epidemic caused a temporary change in the familyâs sleeping arrangements. Blanche, Charlotte, Florence and little Lucy caught the infection and were nursed by Nanny Callaghan in the nursery or (as it was now called inhonour of the older girlsâ status) the schoolroom wing. The fourteen-year-old Alice and Isabella were accommodated as a precaution in the chintz room, at the end of the passage from their parentsâ bedroom.
It may have been the change of bed and the excitement of sharing a room with big sister Alice (it was certainly not the onset of fever, for neither of the girls caught the measles) which made Isabella sleep so uneasily during the first few nights in her new bedroom.
Whatever the reason, Isabella â a child who slept like a dormouse as a rule, and whose digestion was excellent â was troubled by curious and disagreeable dreams. For such, her elders assured her, were the experiences that she related to them in the morning. And as such Isabella, a biddable child who seldom disputed the sacred conclusions of grown-ups, accepted them, secretly qualifying the acceptance however
It is impossible to say at what age, exactly, she became aware of this. That she should become aware, however, was inevitable, in spite of Nanny Callaghanâs unceasing vigilance. There had been a period, in fact, in her childhood, when she was about eight years old, when the obscure forces that lurked in the background of her home had obtruded themselves most unceremoniously upon her childish consciousness.
It is said by those who occupy themselves with psychical research that these supernormal phenomena occur, if not in regular cycles, at least in periods of varying intensity. Dormant for a number of years, they become suddenly active, for no ascertainable reason.
Something of this kind must have happened at Maryiot Cells at this time. The details, as far as they can be gathered from family diaries and recollections, are blurred, but it appears that several guests curtailed their visits abruptly; there was a rapid succession of kitchenmaids (then as now highly impressionable creatures); pet dogs behaved in a hysterical manner; a carpenter was summoned to find out why doors opened that should have remained shut, and what combination of loose boards, wind or rats could cause a sound resembling âsix quick young footstepsâ (the phrase is from Sir Wilfridâs journal), rappings, something stirring and rustling, uncouth whisperings and mutterings.
It was about this time too that a window in one of the turrets was blocked up. The room which it illuminated was only used for storing trunks. Even so, its deliberate darkening might have seemed a senseless action â what more aggravating than to stumble and rummage about among trunks and portmanteaux with a candle? The fact was that a good deal of silly talk was being spread around in the village about the light that shone out mysteriously from that window near the midnight hour.
Sir Wilfrid himself, muffled in an ulster, 5 and accompanied by the butler carrying a gun (rather an unnecessary precaution in the circumstances, one would have supposed) had waited for several hours one night between the entrance court and the beech avenue, and the light had been clearly visible to both master and man. The ânasty, unaccountable thing about itâ, as the butler had confided to the housekeeper next day, was that the light had wavered and moved, for all the world as though whoever bore it had passed several times before the window. And this though the trunk-room door was locked beyond all doubt, and the key lying in Sir Wilfridâs vest pocket.
The nurseries at Maryiot Cells were situated in the more modern, that is to say late eighteenth century, wing of the house, which may explain why Isabella, naturally knowing nothing of these singular disturbances which were perplexing her elders, was not made aware of them till a measles epidemic caused a temporary change in the familyâs sleeping arrangements. Blanche, Charlotte, Florence and little Lucy caught the infection and were nursed by Nanny Callaghan in the nursery or (as it was now called inhonour of the older girlsâ status) the schoolroom wing. The fourteen-year-old Alice and Isabella were accommodated as a precaution in the chintz room, at the end of the passage from their parentsâ bedroom.
It may have been the change of bed and the excitement of sharing a room with big sister Alice (it was certainly not the onset of fever, for neither of the girls caught the measles) which made Isabella sleep so uneasily during the first few nights in her new bedroom.
Whatever the reason, Isabella â a child who slept like a dormouse as a rule, and whose digestion was excellent â was troubled by curious and disagreeable dreams. For such, her elders assured her, were the experiences that she related to them in the morning. And as such Isabella, a biddable child who seldom disputed the sacred conclusions of grown-ups, accepted them, secretly qualifying the acceptance however
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