The Haunting of Lannister Hall Read online

  “I didn't take her outside,” I whimper, as tears stream down my face. “Why would I do such a thing? The last thing I remember is being inside and noticing rain on the windows. I realized a storm was coming, so I told Milly that we should...”

  And then my voice trails off, as I realize that I remember nothing else until the moment Jonathan shook me awake just twenty or so minutes ago. I try to force myself to think back, but it's as if there's some kind of void in my mind, an empty space where the afternoon should be. I know full well that I must have spent several more hours with Milly, but I have no idea what we did or how she ended up outside. Once again, something dreadful has happened and my mind is ruined. Once again, I have done something that I do not remember doing, yet I cling to the knowledge that I would never hurt my daughter.

  Before I can say any of this to Jonathan, however, Milly lets out a faint murmur and her eyes begin to flicker open.

  “She's awake!” I gasp, leaning forward, only for Jonathan to push me away once more.

  “Millicent,” he says, wiping some matted hair from across her forehead, “can you hear me? Do you feel alright?”

  She stares up at him for a moment, her eyes filled with wonder, and then she turns to me. In a flash, her expression changes to one of dismay. Or is it... fear?

  “Milly, you're safe,” I tell her, wiping tears from my face and trying so desperately hard to smile in a caring, motherly manner. “Whatever happened, you're safe now. Mummy and Daddy have you and nobody's going to hurt you.”

  She continues to stare at me for a few seconds, before turning back to Jonathan. And then, slowly, she reaches up and puts her arms around him before hugging him tight. Her little fingers are glistening with dampness, and there are small particles of dirt clinging to the skin.

  “It's okay,” Jonathan says to her breathlessly. “Everything's okay. I'm here now.”

  I wait, and after a moment I realize I can hear Milly whispering to him. I lean closer, hoping to overhear, but I cannot make out a single word. She clearly has a great deal to say, however, and I watch Jonathan's face as he listens. After a moment his expression changes, and I see a flicker of anger in his eyes. When he finally glances at me, I can tell that his fury is greater than ever, but also that he is struggling desperately to hold this anger back in the presence of our daughter.

  “What is she saying?” I whimper. “Please, Jonathan, I would never hurt her. I know I wouldn't.”

  As those words leave my lips, Milly pulls away from her father and fixes me with a dour, accusatory stare. It is as if the very sight of me fills her with the utmost fear.

  “I think I should put her to bed,” Jonathan says through clenched teeth, before suddenly scooping her up into his arms. “She's tired and she's been through a terrible ordeal. She needs to rest.”

  “Of course. But you must know that I -”

  “Not now, Catherine.”

  “I would never hurt -”

  “Not now!” he snaps, briefly betraying his anger and then managing to restrain himself. “Not in front of Millicent!”

  “I'll come upstairs with you,” I reply, getting to my feet. “Perhaps we can read her a nursery rhyme.”

  “No,” he says firmly. “I think it should be just her and I. That's what she wants.”

  He hesitates, before turning and carrying her out of the room, leaving me all alone.

  “Mummy loves you, Milly!” I call after them. “Mummy will see you in the morning! Mummy loves you more than you can ever imagine! Don't ever forget that! Milly, I'm sorry!”

  ***

  “She says that you took her out into the clearing after the storm had started,” Jonathan says a short while later, standing before me as I sit sobbing in one of the armchairs. “After dark. She says you'd already fetched some rope from the stable.”

  “No,” I whimper, shaking my head as I wipe away more tears. “I would never do such an awful thing.”

  “She says you led her to the base of the tree and told her to climb. She says you assisted her at first, lifting her so she could reach the lower branches.”

  Again I shake my head.

  “She says you told her to climb high. She says she was scared, that the branches were slippery in the wet, but that you told her to keep going. She says that finally you told her she had to climb out onto one of the branches and tie one end of the rope around the main section.” He pauses, eyeing me with suspicion. “She says that by that point, you had already tied the rope in such a manner as to form a noose.”

  “No,” I sob, “no, please...”

  “She says you told her to put the noose around her neck and -”

  “Stop!” I shout, turning away and putting my head in my hands. Great convulsive waves of sorrow cause my shoulders to shake, and I feel a sense of utter, mournful despair rising through my body. None of this story can be true. It cannot have happened the way that Jonathan describes. “I didn't do any of these things, Jonathan! What kind of monster do you think I am?”

  He doesn't reply at first. I continue to weep for perhaps a minute or two, before looking back over at him and seeing the pain in his eyes. I'm absolutely terrified of whatever he might say next. I remember when he used to look at me with love and respect. Now, it is as if he would have me dead.

  “This fits a pattern of behavior, Catherine,” he says finally. “You must admit, this is not the first time that Millicent has been put in danger while the two of you were alone.”

  “I would never hurt our daughter!” I sob. “How could anyone suggest such a thing?”

  “Then how did she end up hanging from that tree?”

  “I don't know,” I whimper, wiping more tears from my cheeks, “but I promise you, it can't have been me!”

  “You were the only one here with her.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “And you admit that you don't remember what transpired.”

  “That doesn't mean I did anything wrong,” I tell him, “it just means...”

  Hesitating, I try to think of an answer. In truth, however, I fully understand why he feels the way he does. Indeed, I would feel the exact same way were the positions reversed, and I am ever starting to wonder whether the impossible might indeed be true. Is there some way in which, during these increasingly frequent blackouts, I am harming my daughter? Is such evil lurking somewhere within my breast? The thought is shocking to me, beyond anything that I can bring myself to believe, yet I know that any intelligent person would conclude that it is all true.

  And while these questions remain, there is only one possible solution.

  “She must be taken far from me,” I whimper, sniffing back more tears. “Jonathan, you must take her away.”

  I wait for him to admit that I am right, but for now he is merely staring at me.

  “I cannot trust myself,” I continue, holding my trembling hands up for him to see. “I do not know what is wrong with me, Jonathan, but it as if some great darkness seizes control of me whenever you are gone. This has happened several times now, and it seems that Milly is always placed in danger when this... thing takes over. I would rather die than hurt even one hair on her head, but evidently I am not in control of my actions. You have no choice, my darling. You must take Milly far away from me until such time as I am cured. And if I can never be cured, then she must be kept away from me forever.”

  He will agree.

  He has no choice.

  Indeed, I am quite sure that he has already come to the same conclusion.

  Even now, I can see from the expression on his face that he knows I am right. He knows that I am an unfit mother, and that nothing can presently be done to reform me. He is a good man and an outstanding father, and I am quite certain that he knows his duty.

  “I cannot take her presently,” he says finally. “I just cannot. People would talk, Catherine, and -”

  “Dash people and their talk!” I hiss. “I care not one iota for them! I care only about Milly, and she is not safe
with me!”

  “On that point, we are agreed,” he replies, “but I have reconsidered and I fear that removing her entirely is out of the question for now. I have far too much work that needs doing.”

  “Then I shall leave,” I stammer, getting to my feet. I can no longer keep up with Jonathan's constant changes. “I do not know where I shall go, but -”

  “No!” He grabs my wrist and holds me tight, with the strength of a man who has made up his mind. “I know how we shall deal with this conundrum,” he continues, “at least for now. Millicent will be safe, and you... I believe I know how to contend with your behavior, Catherine. It will not be easy, but I am certain it will be effective.”

  “Tell me!” I sob, feeling as if I am at my wit's end. “I will do anything! Tell me how I can keep our darling little girl safe! I will do absolutely anything!”

  “I know you will,” he says calmly. “Indeed, that is precisely what I am counting upon. For there is only one decent way out of this terrible mess.”

  III

  “So I won't be left alone with Mummy at all?” Milly says cautiously, eyeing me with suspicion as she sits on the bed with her father. “Not even during the day?”

  “Not even during the day,” Jonathan replies, placing a hand on her knee. “You will be absolutely safe, my dear. There might be times when you have to accompany me to town, or even on short trips, but those will be no more than a mild inconvenience. What matters is that you will be safe.”

  She continues to stare at me, and I swear I feel my heart break a little more. My own daughter is scared of me, and I do not know whether I shall ever be able to regain her trust. Worse, I do not blame her at all; indeed, were I her, I would not want to set eyes upon me. She must hate my very presence. Deep down, I know that I should leave forever so that she is free from my shadow, yet I cannot bring myself to do such a thing.

  I will make her trust me again.

  I do not know how, but...

  “I didn't want to go up in the tree,” she whimpers, turning back to Jonathan. “It wasn't my idea. I promise!”

  “I know,” he replies, stroking the top of her head. “You're a good girl, Millicent. But now it's getting late and we are all very tired. You must go to sleep, and in the morning we shall find something for you to do.”

  She stares at him for a moment, before slowly turning to me. In that moment, I see absolute fear in her eyes, as if she is terrified of the mere prospect that she might be left alone with me. My own daughter, my dear little Milly, views me as a monster, as somebody she cannot trust. And as she continues to watch me, I feel my own heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

  “Why did you make me do that, Mummy?” she sobs.

  I begin to shake my head, but I know that I cannot claim innocence.

  “Do you hate me?” she asks. “Am I bad?”

  “No, my darling,” I reply, stepping toward her, “I -”

  She flinches and pulls away before I can get close, so I stop in the middle of the room. I want so dreadfully to fix this, yet I cannot.

  Finally I turn and hurry out of the room, only to then stop in the corridor and put my head in my hands as I begin to sob wildly. I can hear Jonathan reassuring Milly now, no doubt promising her that she won't have to spend any more time with her vile, wicked mother. After a moment I hurry along, so that neither of them will be able to hear my cries. I do not know how things have become this bad, but I have to find a way to make Milly trust me again. If my own daughter wants nothing more to do with me, then what is the purpose of living even one day longer?

  Earlier, when Jonathan said that there could be only one way out of this situation, I thought I knew what he meant. I was wrong, but the possibility occurs to me now. If I am to save Milly, and save Jonathan, I must make the ultimate sacrifice.

  ***

  Sitting alone at a table in the parlor, I stare at the half-full bottle of thick, black liquid that is set before me. Mr. Jones from the village brought this bottle to the house some time ago, to help us deal with a rat problem. For a while, once we had set the bait, we regularly came across the bodies of dead rats, and on one occasion I even encountered one of the pests as it was in its death throes. So much blood burst from its mouth, I could scarcely believe that a rat could be so full.

  But that was then, and this is now. The bottle has sat on a shelf in here for the past year, and I am quite sure that whatever it could do to a rat, it can now do to me.

  This death will be painful, I know that, but I believe it will be fairly swift. And at least it will be assured, unlike so many other methods that one might try. I am willing to accept the pain, so long as I die safe in the knowledge that my darling Milly will be forever protected. I shall also know that Jonathan will be quite alright. He will be able to keep the details of my death from becoming public knowledge, and I am quite sure that he will be able to re-marry before too long. With any luck, I shall be quickly forgotten.

  I pull the bottle closer and remove the stopper, and I immediately notice a rather acrid, pungent smell. That rat, several years ago, died after about two minutes. I am sure it will be much the same for me.

  And yet...

  As I stare at the bottle, I am overcome by a sudden doubt. What if I am wrong about what is happening here at Lannister Hall? Or rather, what if I am right? What if I have really seen what I think I have seen? What if I am, in fact, the only one who knows what is really happening to Milly? What if, by removing myself from her life, I might be condemning my precious little girl to a terrible fate? What if I am the only person who can keep her safe?

  ***

  “There is something here with us,” I announce, stopping in the doorway and looking over at Jonathan as he sits at his desk. A roaring fire heats the room and casts a flicking glow. “I have been thinking and it is the only possible explanation. Jonathan... You and Milly and I are not alone at Lannister Hall.”

  I wait for him to reply, but he merely continues to write his letter. How can anything seem so important to him, at a time such as this, that he does not even listen to me?

  “There is something here, Jonathan,” I continue. “If you think about it, you will see that I am right. It's the only possible explanation. Some malevolent spirit has come to roost in our home. It hides itself from us, but it reaches into our lives and interferes. It is among us, even as I speak to you now, and it intends to cause great harm to us all. To Milly, especially. We must get it out of here at once.”

  Sighing, he sets his pen down and at last turns to look at me. I can see from his expression, however, that he is far from convinced.

  “Think about it and surely you will see,” I tell him, stepping further into the room. “It makes perfect sense once you accept that it's all true. You accept the existence of spirits, do you not? Well, one of them has come to Lannister Hall and is meddling with our souls. I have read of such things happening to other people, and now it is clear that it is happening to us!”

  Again I wait, but he seems entirely unmoved by my revelation.

  “Catherine,” he says finally, “if you think for one moment that this superstitious nonsense will -”

  “It is not superstitious nonsense!” I snap, hurrying to the desk and stopping in front of my husband as he stares up at me. “Jonathan, you must open your mind to the possibilities and then you will surely see! I would never hurt Milly, yet I have been driven to the point of believing myself capable of stringing her up in that tree. I have searched my soul for answers, trying to imagine whether I have somehow become mad, but now I understand that there is something playing tricks on me!”

  “How convenient,” he mutters under his breath. “And where is this goblin, Catherine? Where is this magical creature that is lurking and ready to take all the blame from your shoulders?”

  “I am not a monster!” I tell him. “You are my husband, surely you know that I could never hurt our daughter!”

  “Yet over the past six weeks,” he replies, getting to his feet,
“you have done precisely that. Over and over again. It pains me to accept this, Catherine, yet accept it I must. Believe me, if I thought that I could blame some kind of imp for your actions, I would do so gladly. The sad truth, however, is that you and you alone are responsible for what has been happening to Millicent. And the fact that you cannot accept this is, I am afraid, yet one more indictment of your...”

  His voice trails off, as if he cannot find the right word.

  “Moral decrepitude,” he adds finally. “Godlessness. Unsuitability to the role of a mother.”

  I shake my head, as tears stream down my face.

  “You are falling apart,” he continues. “You were a good woman once, Catherine, but you are becoming mad. I cannot take Millicent away, not yet, and besides why should I? This is her home, and mine too.”

  “So what are you intending to do with me?” I ask.

  “I am writing to a Doctor Havenhand in London,” he explains. “It is my hope that he will come out her and attend to you, and that he will diagnose whatever mania exists in your mind. I shall then follow his advice when it comes to treatment, and I fully expect that he will recommend temporary incarceration so that you might be observed. Obviously there will be some shame for our family, but that is just a burden that I shall bear. Shame is better than outright disgrace.”

  I feel a shudder pass through my chest. “You are going to send me away?”

  “For Millicent's sake, yes.”

  Horrified by the idea, and by the cold lack of passion in his eyes, I take a step back and half sit, half fall into a chair. My body suddenly feels utterly weak, as if the last fight has been drained from my every bone. And although I desperately want to defend myself, to maintain my innocence in all of this, I am beginning to tremble now as I realize that events are overtaking me. The worst part is, perhaps Jonathan is right, perhaps I am mad and perhaps it is best for all concerned that I am sent away.