That Which Was So Fair - A Ghost Story by Tony Reynolds

Author:Tony Reynolds
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, ghost stories, mystery, fiction, scary, fright, late night, campfire tales
ISBN: 9781780929408
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2016
Published: 2016-04-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

The next morning dawned dank and cold. There was a constant drizzle and a sharp wind from the east. Everybody seemed subdued after the events of the previous day.

I sent a message to Nurse to have Thomas ready for me soon after breakfast. Mr Uttridge was undoubtedly in the right when he said that we must continue the tenor of our lives, and Thomas had already missed one day of schooling.

Nurse brought him to my room at the appointed time. I smiled at him. “Good morning, Thomas!” I said.

“Good morning, Miss Catherine,” he replied, although without a returning smile. Perhaps, I thought, despite our efforts he too had been influenced by the tragedy.

“Today we are going to learn a little arithmetic. How high can you count?”

Tom looked confused so I held up three fingers. “How many fingers are here?” I asked him. He was able to tell me and we progressed from there. With a little prompting he was at last reliably able to count up to ten. I felt that was enough for a beginning, and also to be frank I was feeling a marked sense of tristesse and did not especially wish to continue. I took the child back to the nursery and returned to my room. With nothing particular to do, I stared out of the window at the dismal weather. The light drizzle continued and the land was grey and dirty green. My melancholy deepened. I had hoped to feel a love for my new place of residence, but I could not. The flatness of the land. The endless mud. The dreary expanses of drab brown reeds. How I longed for my home in the Lakes! I turned away from the scene and picking up a novel seated myself. I had no reason to regret my circumstances, I told myself firmly. I had a respectable and comfortable situation with a kind and generous employer. I would be here for years to come and must make the best of it. My resolutions were sage and unarguable, but still I could not settle to my book. Finally, I tossed it aside and went in search of Mrs Rawson. A cup of tea and light conversation with that sensible woman would undoubtedly make me feel better. Knocking on her door a short time later I was invited in with much warmth. After the matter of tea was arranged, we settled ourselves for a good gossip.

“A dreadful business, Miss,” ventured the housekeeper.

“Miss Jarvis, you mean? Yes, indeed. I would never have imagined such a thing in this quiet town.”

“Indeed not. Strangled in her own home! How can any of us sleep sound in our own beds?”

“I heard your evidence at the inquest. I considered you spoke very clearly and to the point. It seems that you were one of the last people to see her alive.”

“Oh, don’t say that Miss!” she said in sudden agitation. “I can’t bear the thought!”

I apologised immediately. “I am so sorry, Mrs Rawson, I have no wish to upset you.

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