Page 93 of I Thee Wed (Pride And Prejudice Variation #2)

“I have served you two strips of bacon and a boiled egg, Anne. Shall I butter your toast?”

Anne wrinkled her nose. “I want dry toast, Richard. If I eat too much fat, it makes me ill.”

He placed the dry toast on her plate and set it on the table. “Is there anything else I can get for you, darling? Would you like coffee?”

“No, thank you, Richard. I have a cup of tea.”

He served himself and sat in the chair next to her, but he did not eat; instead, he began speaking.

“Anne, I want to find a rector and marry you while we are here in the Lake District, and then I would like to extend our stay for another month to rest from all the travel and drama we have been through.”

Anne looked at him, surprised. “This feels precipitous. What about Mother?”

He studied her face. “Do you want your mother present? Will you miss having her at your side?”

Anne did not answer immediately. “Mother has never liked me very much. She wanted a son and ended up with a weak daughter.” She continued to shell her egg.

“It would be better if Mother were not present. She would rail at me. Since I am a woman, my only use to her is to marry high, a man with a title.”

Richard did not smile. “A second son does not meet her high-minded machinations.”

Anne shook her head. “No, it does not.”

Richard looked thoughtfully at her. “Then let us marry here tomorrow. After the ceremony, we will have a special luncheon and then start our new life together.”

She was smiling at him now, and he was grinning at her.

“Very well. After I finish eating, I will ride to the nearest rectory and arrange for a service at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

He began to eat his breakfast.

When Elizabeth and Darcy entered through a side entrance, returned from their morning walk, Richard called out, “Darcy, Anne, and I have decided to marry tomorrow morning. I ride out as soon as I finish my breakfast to find a rector.”

Darcy chuckled. “This is so like you, Richard. If something is to be done, it should be done immediately. Very well, I will ring for the butler.”

Darcy questioned the butler. “Wilkins, where is the nearest chapel?”

“That would be St. Martin’s Church, sir. We are part of the Windermere parish. The rector is a fine man. Do you wish me to have him call on you, sir?”

Darcy declined the offer. “Richard needs the address and instructions to find the church. He is planning to get married in the morning. Also, have Cook prepare a wedding breakfast for after the service. Let her know she may hire extra servants if needed to assist her with the preparations. That is all.”

Richard turned to Anne. “My dear, it is settled. Tomorrow we will be husband and wife.”

The Darcys and their guests were assembled at the breakfast table.

Darcy finished his breakfast and then addressed his guests.

“It looks to be a fine day today. I propose a small expedition. Calgarth Hall lies near Troutbeck Bridge, about thirty minutes away by carriage. It is an old house from the sixteenth century that is still in use. It is not only a fine house, open for the public to view, but there is a singular legend associated with it.”

He looked to his sister and nodded, as if to underscore the peculiarity of the house.

“A legend? Fitzwilliam, are there witches involved? Lizzy and I have been reading about the Pendle Hill witches of Lancashire. I wish to go with you when you tour the house.”

Darcy grinned at her eagerness. “It is said the house is haunted by the Calgarth skulls. I thought it would be interesting to tour the house, and then we could have a picnic in the gardens. It is built on the eastern bank of Lake Windermere.”

The ladies murmured their interest, saying they had never been in a haunted house and were eager for the experience.

Darcy, satisfied that he had captured their interest, continued, “Very well then, if we set out within the hour, we may tour before luncheon.”

Richard took Darcy aside. “I will meet you at the Hall. I am going to arrange the wedding service with the rector and then will ride directly there.”

Half an hour after leaving the leased house, the cavalcade reached Calgarth Hall.

Elizabeth stood on the green, looking up at the grey stone walls that rose stark against the green hills.

The windows were dark and rectangular, and the house was uninviting.

There were no flowers planted in the beds, and the entire park surrounding the house had an abandoned look.

However, she noticed that the lawn was clipped short and the walks were swept clean.

After Darcy handed Georgiana down from the carriage, he rapped on the door.

They were left to wait on the front stoop for several minutes before a maid came to answer.

The group was shown inside, and the housekeeper, a stout, cheerful woman, led them through a succession of rooms. Elizabeth was disappointed that the housekeeper looked so welcoming and normal.

They admired the oak paneling, dark and polished by age, and the elaborate plaster ceilings, traced with patterns of leaves, vines, birds, and animals.

A great chair sat before a wide hearth, and in one chamber a spinning wheel stood as though waiting for a family member long dead.

It was in the largest chamber that the housekeeper paused, her voice dropping.

“Here is the tale that makes Calgarth notorious. The house, as you may know, is haunted. Many are the stories of frightful visions and mischievous deeds said to have been performed by the ghosts who inhabit the house and estate, to terrify and distress the neighborhood. The fables are not wholly disbelieved. Specters are still seen. And here in this very window lie two human skulls, whose history you must hear.”

The women drew closer, their breath caught, while the men exchanged amused glances.

The housekeeper continued. “It is said that these skulls belonged to two poor old people, unjustly executed for a robbery. As the story goes, Myles Philipson, the magistrate who owned Calgarth Hall and estate, wanted to enlarge his lands. He offered to purchase Kraster Cooke’s lands, but they refused to sell.

One evening, he invited them to dinner, and the following day, he had the elderly couple arrested for stealing dinnerware.

The other guests bore false witness, and the magistrate had them arrested and hanged.

But Doreen Cooke cursed the magistrate before her death.

” The housekeeper looked each guest in the eye and said, “I will now recite the curse, in her own words:

‘Guard thyself, Myles Philipson; thou thinkest thou hast managed grandly; that tiny lump of land is the dearest a Philipson has ever bought or stole, for you will never prosper, neither will your breed. While Calgarth shall stand we will haunt it night and day. Never will ye be rid of us.’

To perpetuate their innocence, their skulls have remained in this house ever since.

They are indestructible, immovable. Wherever they have been buried, burnt, powdered, or scattered, be it on the wind or upon the lake, they have always reappeared here, in this room, upon this very sill. So says common fame.”

A faint shiver passed through the women of the group. Georgiana pressed Elizabeth’s arm, while Anise’s eyes were wide with apprehension. Abby, though she smiled in disbelief, looked half intrigued. Lady Helen gave a nervous laugh. “A more dreadful tale I have never heard.”

Elizabeth could not restrain her curiosity. “Ma’am, have you ever seen the ghosts that are said to haunt this house?”

To her amazement, the housekeeper’s countenance grew solemn.

Her voice dropped low, as though she feared being overheard.

“Yes, miss. I have worked here for over thirty years, and I have seen them many a time, and oftener still, I have heard the sounds, the footsteps, and the voices. The family that resides here now primarily stays on the eastern side of the house. This very chamber is avoided, for it is here where the disturbances are strongest. None of the servants, myself included, will sleep within these walls. We depart before nightfall.”

The party grew very still. Even the gentlemen fell silent as the housekeeper recounted her experiences.

Georgiana glanced over her shoulder a few times as she listened to the housekeeper’s stories of noises and falling books and other incidents when she was required to remain at the house after dark to oversee a celebratory dinner.

When she had finished, the housekeeper, seeing their faces, asked quietly, “Have you any other questions?”

Abby, her usual composure faltering, said in a low voice, “Have the spirits ever sought to harm anyone?”

“No, mistress,” the woman replied. “But hearing the sounds, those footsteps that come when no one walks, those voices that whisper when no one is near, that is terror enough.”

Elizabeth and Anne exchanged uneasy glances, and as she followed the housekeeper into the next chamber, she turned once to look behind her, fearing that a specter might appear in the window and gaze after her.

When they quit the house and stood outside in the full light of day, the somber mood lifted, and Elizabeth heard laughter as members of their party walked through the gardens and then through the family plot. By the time they sat down on blankets to eat, they had shaken off their jitters.

Darcy invited Elizabeth and his aunt to walk with him through the grove and from there to the edge of the lake.

Georgiana had already gone ahead with her cousins and the Stanton sisters.

When they came out the other side of the grove, Elizabeth caught her breath.

The blue water and the green rolling hills covered with oak, birch, rowan, and holly, capped by a sky so blue it almost seemed unreal, met her eyes.

She remained standing, looking out at the view that opened before her, when she heard her name called. She looked in the direction from which it came and saw Charlotte waving at her. She waved back.

“Fitzwilliam, Charlotte, and Mr. Seton are standing on the jetty. They have their fishing rods.”

She took his hand, and they turned towards the jetty, where she saw Charlotte laying her rod on the wooden planks. She embraced Elizabeth as she stepped onto the landing.

“Lizzy, what a surprise. Oh, and there are Abby and Anise.”

Elizabeth stepped aside to make room for the two sisters to greet Charlotte and be introduced to her husband.

Mr. Seton leaned his rod against a pile and moved forward to meet the Stantons. He stepped on Charlotte’s rod, his foot slipped, and he fell backward. His head hit the pile. Then Elizabeth saw him fall backward into the lake.

She dropped Fitzwilliam’s arm and plunged in after him.

Charlotte was only a couple of seconds behind her.

Between them, they raised his head out of the water and swam him to shore.

Fitzwilliam dragged him onto the grass, and Elizabeth dropped to her knees next to him.

Charlotte knelt on his other side, crying and calling to him.

Mr. Seton was unconscious. Elizabeth turned his head to the side and then pressed firmly down on his chest. She saw water flow from his mouth. She tried again, but this time no water drained out.

“Charlotte, I think he is unconscious from the blow to his head, but look, he is breathing.”

Her friend was bent over her husband, crying, but when she heard what Elizabeth had said, she stopped and looked at his chest. He was breathing. He was alive.