Ashdown Island

Chapter Seven

Victoria and Cicely sat silently together in the library, chatting quietly over a newly brewed pot of tea. There was an open book on the table beside them, and a pleasant smell that reminded Cicely of flowers filled the air.

The rain pattered on the closed window, and the curtains were drawn to avoid any cold from seeping through the cracks. Candles illuminated the library, making it feel cozy and warm, something that was very much needed.

As they sat and talked, Cicely found herself being drawn in by the lady of this old house. She was kind, and warm once you got to know her. Pale and soft, delicate and gentle, yet she also commanded all of the respect that cake with her status.

Cicely found herself wondering why she ever feared this woman, as she was nothing to be afraid of, but instead was actually rather nice. They spoke about a great many things, everything from children to careers to men and life itself. Victoria had a very interesting outlook on life.

She especially had a peculiar view on life and death. She looked at the world as a broken, dark, and vile place. Where crime abounded and the children suffered from the sins of their fathers. Not That she completely believed that the world was evil. She knew there were good people. Families where the children were happy and safe. There was light in the world, but the world itself was broken all the same.

"Death, when it comes, is a mercy." She said, while pouring herself a cup of tea. "Not that I condone or agree with untimely demise, I find death by sickness saddening, and death by... murder... horrifying. Yet when death comes, it is a blessing, almost. A way of escape from the wickedness of the world. Imagine not having to hear about crimes, or having to suffer the death of a loved one, or pain? When my time comes to leave the earth...  I will embrace it. But until then... I will rest in the place I have been set. I will sleep and eat and work and play as all of us must. Until the end of my days."

Cicely, although she thought it strange that Victoria did not fear death, was awed by the calmness and understanding this lady presented. She was content where she was, content to live out her life as the last of a faded line. The last lady of Ashdown. What would happen to this place once she left? When her time ran out, what would become of her beloved home and island? Without Victoria there to defend it, would the mainland simply come and take what they wanted?

Victoria continued to speak, her voice calm and honey like. It was like a soothing river of words, a stream of comfort. There was a soft breeze blowing from somewhere, and there was a strange white noise that was buzzing in her head. Cicely found herself getting tired as she finished her cup of tea, and slowly, very slowly, her eyes closed.

She was startled awake by the sound of a teacup crashing and shattering on the floor.

"Oh, dear..." Victoria muttered, standing up to clean the porcelain that laid scattered about the floor. Her long, pale fingers collected the fragments quickly and quietly, never once cutting herself in the process. She then walked over to a trash bin and threw them all away.

"I... I am so sorry..." Cicely whispered. "I don't know what it was that made me so sleepy... I just—"

"Never you mind, dearest." Victoria smiled, music in her voice. "Accidents happen. Things break. I have a hundred more teacups just like it. Worry not."

It was then that Ace came bursting through the door, breathing heavily and looking as if he had seen a ghost. He was shaking and pale, eyes darting all around the room.

"Cicely!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her away from Victoria. "Keep away from her. She's not who she says she is—"

The younger cousin pulled away, eyes wide with shock. "Ace, what are you—"

"I heard the recording!" He interrupted, looking over at the woman in the corner, voice condemning. "In the basement on the phonograph. Victoria Ashdown died more than a hundred years ago."

The lady of the manor suddenly went even paler than she had before, looking like death itself. "You found the recording..?" She whispered.

"Yes." Ace confirmed. "Now tell me. Who are you?"

She swallowed a moment, before speaking softly. "I am Victoria Ashdown." Her eyes hardened. "And you have to leave. You have to go now."

"Not until—"

There was a loud creaking and groaning, the candles in the room went out and suddenly it was cold. So very cold.

Ace was almost sure he could hear the breathing of more than just them in the room.

Victoria wasted no time in grabbing both Cicely and Ace and making a mad dash for the door, down the staircase and to the entrance to the angered house. The portraits on the walls seemed to watch them, angry that any person dared to come into the ancient home.

Their coats from the day before were still hanging by the door, and the lady of the manor pressed both of them into the cousins's arms, along with a pair of blankets and a bag of clothing and provisions that happened to be sitting there for some reason.

"Go." She whispered her voice low and holding a hint of terror. "Go now. Don't come back. Please."

With that, she shoved them out the door into the rain and wind of the outside world.

Ace and Cicely looked at each other, breathing heavily and fear in their eyes.

"Come on!" Ace said, taking Cicely's hand. "Into the woods!"

They ran out into the forests, mud splashing and caking their legs, ruining Cicely's dress, but still they ran on. They ran and ran until they could run no more.

They curled up under the brush, placing one blanket atop their makeshift shelter and the other wrapped around them for whatever warmth could be salvaged.

And they, exhausted and confused, fell asleep.