The Haunting of Elsinore Manor

▪︎ Four ▪︎

Oct. 23rd, 1907

Dear Diary,

It seems we have a thief in our midst. Yesterday the ceramic salt and pepper shakers disappeared from the kitchen table, along with all of mother's cloth napkins and the matching tablecloth. Today, all of the candlesticks and their silver holders have vanished from the dining room. Mother is convinced the boys are playing a trick, and she has sent them both to their separate bedrooms for the afternoon.

Rosen is quite annoyed. He says he would have nothing to do with something so silly. He says his wooden horses have been taken, too.

Likewise, Gilbert has denied responsibility, insisting that, "It must have been Chester!"

Mother told Gilbert that nice imaginary friends don't take things that belong to others. Gilbert told mother that Chester is not his imaginary friend.

Mother asked: "What is he, then?"

Gilly's reply was matter-of-fact: "A ghost, of course. This house is haunted."

Mother had nothing to say to that.

Yours truly,
Ophelia

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25th of October, 1907

Dearest William ~

Still no letters have come. I understand if you are too occupied with work to write to me, but I now find myself anxious and concerned that you are not receiving the letters I write to you.

The last few days have been difficult. For a myriad of reasons, I find myself unable to sleep.

Allow me to explain:

Several items from the kitchen and dining room have gone missing. Items I know I have not touched. I questioned Rosen and Gilbert, despite knowing that most of these items were shelved too high to be reached by children so small. Then, earlier today, I could not find my teapot. I always keep it in the cupboard above the range, yet it was not there. It is a rare and antiquated piece, and as you know, a gift from my late mother. Its absence troubles me greatly.

Little Gilly has informed me that his elusive friend "Chester" is, in all actuality, a ghost. Perhaps it is the recent darkness that has fallen upon the manor, but this troubles me as well. The past several nights, I've left my book on the bedside table, only to find it tucked back in its place on the bookshelf the next morning. I have found doors open that I know I've closed. I have found dishes in the sink that I know I haven't used. Most eerie of all, I have been awakened by the sound of music coming from my piano in the den. To my knowledge, Claude does not play. I've asked the children, but they claim to have no knowledge of any of it. I believe them.

Claude also claims ignorance. But I find I am less inclined to believe him.

I caught him in the red room yesterday. He was murmuring to himself and jotting notes into a small leather bound book. Why? What business could he have in there?

His advances have become more blatant. It's beginning to make me uncomfortable. When the children are not present, the way he looks at me and the things he says to me are inappropriate at best. Last night he told me it was "a shame for a woman so beautiful to go to bed alone." Then he left a parting kiss on the apple of my cheek that was far from brotherly.

I am uncertain what to do. I cannot simply ask him to leave. I wish you were here.

Please come home.

Yours faithfully,
Trudy

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