The Haunting of Elsinore Manor

▪︎ Six ▪︎

30th of October, 1907

William ~

No letters, no telegrams, no correspondence. Still. You must come back. Soon. Now. If you do not, I fear there will be nothing for you to come back to.

I fear I will lose my sanity in this house.

The missing items aforementioned in my last letter were found. In the red room. The children are very well aware that they are not allowed in that room, what with your mother's death and all her antique furniture and possessions inside.

I scolded the children, despite having been certain that they were not to blame. Heaven forgive me, their little faces looked so wounded! So hurt. And I am furious with myself.

Again, I could not sleep, and I stayed in bed until late in the morning. When I came downstairs, the grandfather clock on the landing was gone. Gone. Vanished. It would take two strong, grown men to move that monstrosity. The children could never, and would never, have done this.

I can no longer pretend your brother is not responsible. He is doing this. He must be. The only other possibility...well, it's nonsensical. Unthinkable.

Claude came into my room last night, uninvited. I cannot bring myself to write upon this paper the sordid details of what transpired. I will call it an "untoward advance." Of course, I refused him.

He told me that I must be tempted. I must have considered it.

"You are still young, Gertrude. Beautiful. Your blood is still warm. It doesn't cease to flow because your husband is gone." That's what he said to me.

I refused him again, and insisted he leave. He did, but not before forcing me to endure some harsh, undeserved words.

I could not breathe for the longest time after he left, I was so shaken.

Then, late this morning, after I noticed the absence of the clock, Ophelia told me something that chilled me to my very bones.

I must confront Claude. It cannot wait. I will write more after I've spoken with him.

~ Until later ~

William, I must get out of this house! Away from that man!

Just now, your brother told me in no uncertain terms that you are dead.

Dead!

Rubbish and dribble, I said. If William's life had ended, I would be able to feel it, I said. But Claude merely repeated himself, the same words over and over, as though I were a deaf, stupid child.

He said he had received word two days ago of your demise — an accident in Bucharest. He said Elsinore Manor would fall to him. He said it was already in motion.

He also made mention that a mother with three children could not survive on her own. He told me he would take care of me, should I agree to his terms. A marriage, William. After the legal allotment of time has passed, he wants me to marry him.

I'm shaking as I write this. I'm furious, and horrified, and shocked, and very scared. You are not dead! Claude must be lying! Why would word of your death be sent to your brother, rather than to me? It makes no sense. Regardless, I must get the children, and we must leave this cursed place!

Please find us!

In haste,
Trudy

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