Ashdown Island

Chapter Six

Ace wandered aimlessly about the halls. The weather was ghastly outside, and it was no use to try to visit the natives today. Yet he still could not bear to be confined to Victoria's room all day.

The Lady of the Manor had whisked Cicely away with her to the library. And Ace was thankful for that. Now that he was alone, he could investigate the happenings of the previous evening. Things were not adding up for him.

This house was old and creaking, something from a hundred years ago that stood still and cold against the chills of winter and the heat of summer. It was not safe to live in, let alone host guests in. He wouldn't be surprised if a ceiling beam fell and knocked him out.

But still. Victoria has lived here her whole life, and she was in perfect health. Yet... he still had his reservations about the Lady of Ashdown. She was... unique. Frightening. Cold and unreachable one moment, but compassionate and caring the next.

Nothing made sense.

Ace made his way down to the first floor and looked at the door he and Cicely walked through the previous day. It was locked. Locking them in or locking danger out, Ace could not tell. He walked around for a bit, checking in nooks and crannies for any hint as to what went on in this place. Perhaps he could find a trick wire or some other sort of explanation for what had happened.

The cold chill filled him so suddenly it was if the breath left his body and left him gasping.

He spun around, eyes darting about the room, but the door was shut tight. He dismissed it as a stray draft, but deep down he knew it couldn't be. It was too sudden. Too strong. Straightening himself, he walked down another flight of stairs to the basement.

The stairs creaked and groaned under his weight, and small puffs of dust ascended into the air, causing him to cough. He grabbed a candlestick to light the dark stairway. He knew he probably shouldn't be down here, that he should go find Victoria and Cicely. But something beckoned him downwards.

As he descended, the cold grew noticeably. It was winter inside, and he blew warm air into His free hand. The jacket that Victoria had lent him was of great use, as it kept him warm despite the cold assaulting his face and hands. (Why had he refused the gloves she had offered?)

The basement was not that unusual. There were wooden crates marked with things such as 'clothes', 'dishes', 'toys', and the like. There were some strange contraptions littering an old writing desk, an apple tree carved into the side of it.

Ace picked one of the small devices up, startling as it sprang to life. The small gadget flipped itself over and landed, before flipping again. It seemed to be a child's toy, albeit unfinished, but a toy all the same. He wondered who it had been meant for. Perhaps Victoria when she was a child? It was hard for him to imagine the lady of the house as a little girl.

But he supposed she must have been at one time. Or maybe this was originally meant for one of the island children. There must be plenty of them.

The toy eventually turned itself off. Perhaps it had ran low on power or some such thing, it had obviously been forgotten down in this dank chamber. The other creations on the desk remained still, a thin coat of dust covering each of them. He turned his focus to the boxes in the corner, peeking in at their contents. Some had fur coats and dresses, there was a set of fine china, and a few dolls and stuffed animals. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

Ace looked around at the rest of the basement. It was large, but mostly empty. There's was what appeared to be a medicine cabinet, and a broom and dustpan in the corner. It was even more unnerving just how normal the basement was. It would have done his nerves better, he thought, if he had found something along the lines of a skeleton down here. It would certainly give more explanation to what went on around here.

His eye caught something, in the corner of the room. A phonograph. He had seen pictures in history books, and he walked over carefully. He knew roughly how they worked, lower the needle and crank the handle to play. He had no idea how to record.

He slowly placed the needle down, and began to turn the handle. There was silence for a moment, before a disturbingly familiar voice filled the room.

"Hello. I don't know if anyone can hear this, but please..." the voice was pleading. "Please leave. I don't know if it's too late for me. It most likely is. Go now. Never come back. If you can, tell them I lived. Tell them that I tried to fight him off. It's summer now, the year 1883, when everything went wrong. Tell them I tried to help. Tell them I tried to fight." There was a harsh coughing sound, and the voice was pained and rough afterwards, as of the speaker was struggling to breathe. "I think he's coming... we're all going to die... God have mercy on me... please... if you can hear this, tell them that Victoria Ashdown fought to stay alive. Please—" there was a loud scream, and the message started again.