By Cortney Manning
Someone had to be in the attic, or else Alice Horton was mad.
Thick fog curled across the grounds, shrouding the vibrant gardens in ghostly white.
Alice’s head pounded from lack of sleep. The footsteps pacing above her room had kept her awake most of the night. She even thought she’d heard a supernatural scream, unless it was the howling wind.
Now she picked her way across the lawn, careful not to drag her only nice dress through the grass. The pearl-gray muslin felt lighter than her typical black uniform. She’d even clipped on her favorite choker, decorated with a single fiery opal. Some superstitions associated opals with bad luck, but Alice knew better. No human could be harmed by such a lovely gem. Alice smiled. A little style could go a long way in lifting one’s spirits, and Alice intended to enjoy her rare holiday.
Fresh air rejuvenated her mind after three lonely months trapped indoors with Mr. Thorne’s ward, Peggy. Of course, there were servants, but as governess, Alice belonged to a different class. Besides, stone walls never sat well with Alice. Before obtaining this assignment, she’d spent much of her time roaming wild moors.
Today, Mr. Thorne, the master of Rockville Hall, had invited a gathering of fine gentleman and ladies from the neighborhood. Always eager to spend time with his young niece, he included Peggy in their games of charades and blind man’s bluff.
Alice’s face flushed remembering how sincere he seemed as he invited her to the party as well. It was a compliment, but Alice had other matters to attend to today, like uncovering the mysteries of the house while free from her governess duties.
Reaching the old yew tree, Alice pressed a hand against its ridged bark and breathed deeply of its woody scent. From beneath its needlelike leaves, she surveyed Rockville Hall with its latticed windows and towering battlements.
Despite the fog, she could still observe the attic window above her room. Ivy crept over the wall, reaching toward it. Dim light reflected off the window’s glass, but, when Alice squinted, she noticed strands of white orbs strung from the window frame. Could that be garlic? And there! Alice was certain she spied the wan face of a woman.
At once, Alice lifted her petticoats and raced to the servants’ entrance. At the threshold, she lowered her bonnet and cringed as she breathed the stale air inside the stone-lined hallway. Though the small staff was occupied with the guests at the front of the house, Alice still stepped lightly, hoping not to draw attention while she snuck up to the third floor.
Dusty tapestries swayed against the walls, and Alice’s skin prickled at the sound of a low moan from the room ahead. With a nervous swallow, Alice forced herself closer to the heavy oak door. Unlike the rest of the hall, its silver handle shined, polished from use.
Alice wet her lips. “Hello?”
Footsteps padded against the wooden floor.
“Hello,” came the muffled voice of a woman from beyond the door. “Please, help me.”
Alice’s heart thudded at the ethereal, almost inhuman quality of her tone. “How can I help you?”
“I—I’m the mistress of this house! I’ve been imprisoned by my husband because he called me mad.”
Alice creased her brow as she fingered the fiery opal at her throat. She’d never known Mr. Thorne was married.
The woman’s voice was agitated. “Please, you must let me out! I’m choking in here. I can’t open the window. The walls are closing around me!”
Alice narrowed her eyes at the silver doorhandle. No keyhole. “Can’t you come out on your own?”
“You don’t understand! I need to get out!” Then the desperate tone shifted. “You’re the new governess, aren’t you?” When Alice hesitated, the woman continued. “I’ve seen you walking with him and the girl in the garden. Do you think he’ll make you lady of the house?” Laughter barked through the doorframe. “No. He’ll lock you up just like me.”
Frantic energy tingled through Alice’s arm as doubts crowded her mind. The woman could be right, or she could be lying. If the door stayed closed, the truth would remain hidden. Alice wrapped her fingers around the handle and turned.
The door thudded against the wall as a rush of mist shot from the room, blasting Alice’s hair about her face in a humid gust.
Before Alice could react, Mr. Thorne rushed into the hall. “What have you done?”
Alice looked between him and the now-empty room. A scent of garlic tinged the air.
“You let her out?” Mr. Thorne’s panicked voice rose an octave.
Alice looked up at him, her tone defensive. “She said she was your wife…”
“I’ve never been married!” Mr. Thorne’s face paled as he swayed against the wall. “She was a servant. I know it sounds crazy, but I discovered she’s a vampire, draining my niece’s blood. How will I protect Peggy now?”
“So… you’re saying you locked a vampire in your attic… to protect your niece?”
“Yes! I didn’t know what else to do! The garlic and silver kept her inside while I searched for an expert with a humane solution, but now—” His voice broke.
Alice touched his arm. “Then you’re in luck.”
His head lifted, his expression confused.
Alice tapped her opal necklace. “When your vampire transformed to mist, my fire opal drew her inside. I’ll gladly transport her to a rehabilitation house for vampires.”
Mr. Thorne gaped in disbelief.
Alice extended her hand. “Allow me to reintroduce myself, Mr. Thorne. I’m an agent from the Secret Department of Supernatural Lifeforms. My superiors heard about a gentleman roaming the countryside asking about vampires and sent me to investigate. They feared you were a madman seeking to become a vampire yourself. I’m glad to have unveiled the truth.” Alice grinned as he slowly accepted her handshake. “It’s nice to know neither of us is mad.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Very much enjoyed. :)
Thank you! :D
interesting lore about opals. she should have been vey confident when putting on the choker.
Thanks! I’ve always loved opals, so it was fun creating the extra lore for them :)
I hear echoes of Jane Eyre in this story… Perhaps that was the problem with the first Mrs. Rochester as well? Enjoyed this!
Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it!
Yes, Jane Eyre was most definitely the inspiration for this story :D
Perhaps indeed ;)
Same! And I have often thought that Mrs. Rochester could have been a vampire! :D
Yes! Jane even says Bertha reminded her “Of the foul German spectre–the Vampyre.” :D
Love this short story. I enjoyed it thoroughly!
Thank you! I’m so glad you liked it! :)
Exciting, and a complete back history created in the last paragraph—impressive. I enjoyed your interpretation of this theme.
Thank you very much!!
Great story, told very well in a short space! It was easy to picture the scenes as you described them so well!
Thank you so much!!
I definitely caught the Jane Eyre connections! Nice twist at the end!
Thank you! :)
Love this story! I hope we’ll get more with these characters :-D
Thank you so much! I really enjoyed creating these characters :D