A House of Bells: A Thrilling Gothic Supernatural Mystery and Suspense Novel by J. T. Croft

Author:J. T. Croft [Croft, J. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838108922
Publisher: Elmfire Press
Published: 2021-03-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Sleep was an impossibility, and Grace tossed restlessly in the dark bedroom listening to the night noises of the old house: the shuffling and creaking of those in nearby rooms, the snoring and sleep-talking of the servants despite the thickness of the walls, and the scurrying of mice, rats and other nocturnal creatures within great cavities behind the panelling.

Greatest of all of these was the knowledge that Rose lay sleeping in the room below, insistent on the burning candle to banish all fear. The balsam burner was now lit, and naked flames ruled downstairs now that the clinking of Charles’s crystal decanter was silent, and his drunken squeaking chair had retired the melancholic captain to bed.

Despite the conflict with the head of the household and the likelihood that the episode with the medicine would be relayed, embellished, back to Mrs Stanton, Grace desperately fought to calm herself with pleasant thoughts. Thoughts of happier times, being at the institute, with Jane.

Then there was the intense sharing of memory, and final moments of the dying governess, Arthur’s appearance, and the new sign.

The circular reasoning began again.

She poured herself a glass of water from the refilled jug. Crinkling her nose at the bitter aftertaste, she suddenly turned, putting down the glass quietly on the table.

The scratching within the wall caused a moment of panic, and Grace sat up, searching the shadowy corners for any sign of worse things to come. The moon cast its last beams upon the seconded silver spoon on the washbasin, and she rose to sniff at the sickly treacle-like smear on its smooth surface, wondering if something sinister lay in the syrup.

A new noise, heavier and near, came from within the walls as though something larger than a rat shuffled within, and Grace recalled the pantry and the shifting sound, as though something shambled through sand. The sound shifted slowly and stealthily, pausing as if to listen before sliding and stepping its way from beneath the floorboards and up to the other side of the panelling. Grace panicked and reached for the light switch. She flipped it several times, trying to spark life into the dusty, solitary bulb to no avail. She reached for the electric torch beneath her pillow, turned it on and grabbed an iron poker.

The thing in the wall paused, as though listening to the rapid breathing from Grace’s heaving chest. The sound moved the length of the wall and into the sitting room. Grace followed it as it stopped on the other side of the dividing wall, right between two wide recessed wooden sections of panelling. A gentle thud came from within, as though whatever was beyond was forcing a way through. Grace gave in to fear and ran for the doorknob, rattling the worn lock furiously to get out. She twitched the torch across to the wall and saw the panel squeak open as though hinged. An unsuccessful attempt to withhold a high-pitched sneeze came from the other side.

Grace lunged at the wall

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