Previously on Something Witchy This Way Come. As if the dinner discourse had not been distressing enough, that night
I was awoken by most unnatural noise. It sounded like a quarrel of some type was taking shape in the apartments below.
There's a parlor there and from that room the voices rose louder and louder until
there was a strange sound, a loud twanging noise of something metallic
reverberating after striking something hard. A wall perhaps. In my drowsy state,
I imagined my uncle had struck at the wall of the castle was something like a shovel.
But why would he do such a thing? I was happpy the next morning when I learned that my uncle had left with Mr.
Turlington to parts unknown and would not be returning. I spent the day with Anne out in the woods playing hide-and-go-seek. and other such games
After lunch, Ann retired upstairs and Tilda took to working on a pile of sewing, while I was free to roam around my new hall.
It was in the library where I learned more about the suspicion of murder that had fallen on my uncle.
To my dismay the books in the library at Reddrick looked as if they had not been touched by anyone in years.
They were first editions of every worthwhile book on the planet.
And they were covered in thick dust and cobwebs. I spotted a translated version of Orvid's
Metamorphosis high upon the shelf and I endeavored to retrieve it.
I had spent one very long summer at my father's estate Karluk by the sea trying to translate the book to till the satisfaction as
a result of my inability to grasp the classical languages
I never understood a word Orvid had written, so finding the book in my native tongue. I was most curious.
But to reach the book would require scaling the bookshelves at home in County Galway.
I would have had no qualms and scaled the bookshelf like a marmot on Mount Snoot. I
do not know where Mounts Snoot is, my mother sang of it often.
But Tilda declared the existence of such a place to be utter nonsense.
Now, however,
I thought a more ladylike approach to reaching Orvid might be best,
so as not to scandalize any of the hand full of servants at Redrrick should they happen upon me?
To this end my eyes searched the room for something to stand on and I saw to my satisfaction
a large rectangular leather trunk that looked stalwart enough to hold my weight.
Unfortunately, it was not stalwart enough
and I fell over backwards, overturning the trunk and pouring its contents out on the floor.
Dozens of envelopes fluttered to the ground. I
spent the next half an hour putting the correspondence back into the trunk when I happened upon a letter written in a familiar
handwriting. Despite myself. I hastened to pull a letter from the envelope and
read its contents.
My dear brother, I have heard of the inquest in your small town of Tilday, I can't tell you of the dread
I felt when I was summoned into the constables' office and told of the suspicions against you.
They say that your gambling debts were called in by a Mr.
Walter Cumber, formerly from Galway. The constable informed me that Mr.
Cumber was found dead in your apartment, and it appeared as if he had been struck more than once by a sharp object.
The constable further insinuated that there had been an inquiry and that
you were, in fact, the prime suspect for owing as the man informed me a large sum of money to Mr. Cumber.
I must inform you of the stress that this caused me.
I was struck dumb to think that our Father left you in possession of a good fortune,
and that your wife's family in Cork left you in possession of a fine estate.
To think that you have allowed both of these things to pass into disastrous states is beyond comprehension.
The constable, a Martin O'Brien, went on to inform me of the facts. I denote them below: a
servant woman of yours had knocked on Mr. Cumber's bedchamber when he did not come down for breakfast.
When he did not open the door the servants forced it open and found Mr. Cumber lifeless upon his bed.
It was noted by a Coroner in Tilday day that Mr.
Cumber suffered two wounds, one on his temple inflicted with some sharp instrument,
and which had penetrated his brain and another which had grazed his head removing a piece of his scalp.
The constable then related to me that a thorough investigation of the crime scene was completed and several peculiarities were noted as follows
The room was double locked from the inside.
Indeed the key was still in the door. Nobody could have passed via the door. The window was tightly closed and second
not likely a means of ingress.
The chimney, too, was examined and ruled out as it was built in the old-fashioned style and rose nearly 15 feet above the roof.
Its inside was also of a girth that would not allow a man to pass. All these facts, coupled with a pair of razors found
on the floor beside the bed le many to believe that Mr.
Cumber had died of a suicide. The constable of Tilday, as you know dear brother, was not convinced.
I am told he believed you had a strong motive, Sir, for
dispatching your guest, as it was commonly known that you were deep in debt to the man.
I
have also heard of your side of the story, the one given at the inquest where you claimed that the night of the man's death
you beat him soundly at cards. So soundly that your entire debt was erased.
And you even produced a note in his handwriting clearing you of all the money owed.
It was at that point that the inquiry against you was dropped. However. I tell you that even though you are my brother
I am in possession of a letter from a man claiming to be Cumbers' cousin Mr.
Collins. A letter which according to the writer proves your guilt.
I had my manservant copy it out
and I have enclosed herein. Your humble brother Thomas. After reading my father's missive, I can tell you, dear reader,
I looked around in vain for Mr.
Collin's letter. It had not been included in the envelope in which I found this letter.
To be sure, I turned the envelope inside out, but found nothing. It must have been removed years ago.
I sifted through all the other correspondence that had fallen onto the floor. I found little letter from a Mr. Collins.
I must admit, after an hour searching through my uncle's correspondence, I felt quite like a spy. Father
McKenzie would have been happy to know that with every passing second my guilt rose so that I became quite beside myself. with
Anxiety it is for that reason that when I heard the footsteps coming down the hall towards me
I almost jumped out of my skin.
I only had a few seconds to return the rest of the letters to the trunk
or I would be caught in the act. My hands moved swiftly so that the correspondence, all of it, was returned.
Although not quite in the order in which it had been originally stowed
Then shaking like a leaf, I turned in time to see who was approaching. A young man stood in the dark doorway,
I couldn't make him out. What on earth are you doing, He hissed. Once again
it was my dear cousin Anne who saved me.
"Oh James, you have found our dear, Tellehandra.
"Indeed, I found her rifling through our father's affairs," said the young man who was still hidden in shadow. I
felt an urgent need to undo the wrong I had committed.
"No, no not rifling through his affairs. I foolishly tried to reach a book using this trunk as a footstool
And I overturned it. I was just putting everything back.
I stood up as graceful as I could, and after wiping the dust from my skirt, I approached my cousin and curtsied.
"Please call me Viola. Everyone does. Nobody has ever called me Tellehandra"
He called me neither names, but glowered at me over the next few days.
I came to find him exceedingly moody and disagreeable. He was self-assured of everything and if it were dark outside
he would declare it to be light and expect the world to agree with him.
He was also very forward, touching me awkwardly on the arm here or an overly friendly peck on the cheek there.
I recoiled at his very touch. For some reason, after his initial surliness,
he felt it his duty to compliment me in an exceedingly and disingenuous manner.
Thankfully, I did not see him much as he was involved in pursuits that called him away from Reddrick at all hours of the day.
The unsolicited compliments from this man went on for many a month. As
fall closed in, the leaves fell in the woods and the fog returned with vigorous abandon.
I spent my nights at the dinner table,
listening to his descriptions of my beauty, which I swear, dear reader, did nothing but caused my stomach to churn.
"You are my beautiful dear cousin, then the beauty bush you described in your mother's garden."
"How would you know? You have never seen it." At this his vanity was impugned. "I have heard you describe it.
I say no matter how beautiful it is the most beautiful thing on this earth is you." My appetite would always
disappear at these sorts of remarks Behind his back, Tilda made snide faces. She couldn't help herself.
She thought him as disgusting as I did. "Oh he wasn't ugly, far from it.
He was a handsome sort with dark black hair, prominent cheekbones, and a not overly large nose.
Altogether he was quite good-looking, but it did not take much to know what he wanted: my inheritance.
Indeed, I was proved right when a few days later as I sat side by side with my cousin on a dilapidated
divan, he entered and informed me that my uncle had returned from his adventures. He
was awaiting in the high tower to talk with his daughter right away.
"Be off with you then, march!" James said in a tone
which she could not disobey. It was 1871 and no woman would dare disobey any man.
But Anne was overjoyed that her father had returned sans Mr. Turlington, and she hurried off as ordered.
That is when James began to pace the room with a nervous expression on his face.
Then he began his awkward attempt at courting.
"You know, I suppose it is quite out of the question that so fine a young woman as yourself
could ever find herself in a position to love a fellow such as me.
Even though I had a suspicion this was coming, it still took me by surprise, and I stopped my embroidery mid stitch.
"My dear Viola, I have loved you from first I saw you." That is not true,
I thought and my eyes narrowed. He glowered at me that day he saw me in the library
stuffing his father's correspondence back into the trunk. "I
can tell you all up and down County Cork, I'm considered quite the catch. Although
I have never found a woman that struck me to the heart in any way. That is until now,"
he continued. I was horrified. I flushed red with annoyance and disgust and could not conceal my dislike.
What kind of man struts around saying 'all the county considers me a catch'?
I considered him abhorrent, then, all of a sudden,
he flung himself down next to me and had the audacity to put an arm around me.
"Please Sir, I am but 15 years old," I said and rose quickly to my feet to be free of his grasp.
Something flashed in his eyes, a look of pure malice at being denied.
He tried to hide it and attempted a smile, of course. "You are a tender age.
We shall wait until you are sixteen and then be married."
"We shall do no such thing we shall never marry," I shouted. My embroidery be damned,
I flung it to the floor.
James stood up with an unnerving calm, like a man about to carry out a great sin and resigned to it.
"He looked, as they say,
positively murderous. That's when I turned and ran, heading straight from my apartments. Behind me, he came tripping along.
I heard his footsteps here, a door slamming behind him there. I ran as if my very life depended upon it
Reaching my room, I closed and locked both doors.
I briefly glanced about my shabby lodgings and wondered: was I safe in my room with my doors locked?
I thought about that for a long time.
Mr.Cumber had died in a room in this very house with his own doors locked. It had been this one, was there yet another
way in. I
set about searching the room, but there was nothing to be found. No trapdoors.
No hidden passages such as one might find in such an old house. Later
my cousin came to me, and seeing my distress,
she was sweet enough not to ask about anything that had transpired between me and her brother James -- a man I now firmly loathed.
Dear Viola, let's go into the woods and play hide-and-go-seek.
I would have had done anything to get away, so I consented. Although now that the Sun was setting earlier and earlier,
I wasn't sure it was smart to separate in the woods. Once again
I was right. For when it was my turn to go in search of Anne, she was nowhere to be found.
I should have stopped to seek my bearings,
but I did not. Instead I plunged deeper into the woods in search of her. It was then that I saw the bat.
It was not a tiny thing. It was enormous, with two fangs clearly visible. An exotic animal if
ever I had seen one, and draped from the bow of an alder tree. I thought it the most interesting creature I had ever seen.
"How in the world did you get here?" I asked it with a smile on my face.
I found it beautiful in all its strangeness. Simply staring at such a creature as I had only seen in
Encyclopedias on the natural world filled my heart with great pleasure.
"Did you escape from some zoo somewhere? An exhibition, perhaps, in Cork?"
In response, it fluttered its wings as it hung upside down, then it turned to red eyes on me.
I felt an instant connection as if I could see into my very soul. "You have come to me.
I think it is no coincidence that we have met in these woods." I was speaking nonsense, yet
it felt right. It felt like I could communicate with this creature.
It was just then that I heard a snap of a twig behind me, I turned quickly for fear it was James.
What would I do if he sought me out here in the woods for vengeance?
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