The Rathburn Legacy and Other Stories by Amanda DeWees

Author:Amanda DeWees
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: short story collection, Victorian mystery, supernatural short stories, ghost stories, romance stories, romantic suspense stories, series characters
Publisher: Amanda DeWees
Published: 2020-12-28T00:00:00+00:00

I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG we stood watching that sad, grotesque performance, but some time later we returned to my room, unsettled but eager to discuss the ramifications of what we had seen.

“Perhaps she is grieving for the life she never had,” Alice mused.

“It would seem so.” That strange, lonely dance in all her evening finery seemed to signal that she was trying to live beyond the grave, attempting to seize all of the experiences that had been denied her.

Yet I was unsatisfied with the explanation. Watching her spectral dance, I had sensed no joy, nor even nostalgia. There had been something urgent about the too-swift motion and rapid tempo—desperate, even. Was that really how a young woman who had enjoyed dancing would move? For some reason I thought of the old folk tale about the princesses who were put under a spell that forced them to dance all night. Every morning their shoes would be discovered danced to pieces.

But Carlotta’s shoes had scarcely been scuffed. Poor insubstantial thing, without her earthly body she hadn’t the weight to wear her shoes down. She might dance until doomsday without any effect on her slippers.

This idle reflection was getting us nowhere, however. “If that is why she is restless,” I said, “if she is trying to live out the future promised by the clothes her husband bought for her, then they may be the reason she is trapped here.”

Alice gave me a perplexed look. “Can earthly things like that hold that kind of power over a ghost?”

“Oh, indeed they can. But that makes our task easier. If the clothes are the link, we can simply destroy them. Is that agreeable to you?”

“If it will set Carlotta free, of course,” she said without hesitation. “Hibbert can burn them tomorrow in the stable yard. He will be curious, I expect, but he is too loyal to refuse.” She sighed. “What a terrible waste to destroy all those beautiful things, though. When I think about the time that went into the embroidery alone...well, never mind.”

I, too, was saddened by the prospect, but finding peace for Carlotta—and a different kind of peace for the tenants of Larkin Hall—was more important. I rose and gave Alice’s hand a squeeze. “Just think about the gift you are giving your great-aunt,” I told her. “It is more precious than all the finery in the world.”

Nevertheless, my feelings of doubt and dissatisfaction persisted. No visitation from Carlotta disturbed my rest that night, which ought to have been heartening, but instead I kept questioning myself until late into the night. Had Alice and I made the right decision?

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