Wails in the Night

Chapter 3: Rockfortbridge

After breakfast, Elizabeth took Agatha on a tour of her new home.

The sitting room was painted a lovely shade of blue, like the darkening sky at dusk. Gilt-framed paintings graced the walls, alongside a family portrait. Aunt Ellen looked like a slightly older version of Elizabeth, with a crown of braids wrapped around her head.

"I was eight when this was painted, Father commissioned it for his birthday," Elizabeth said, coming to stand next to me where Agatha gazed up at the portrait.

"It's lovely," She smiled at her and turned to look at the rest of the room. There was a stone fireplace that wasn't currently lit, candles, and porcelain figurines decorating the mantle.

"A few of the other paintings were done by Rembrandt," Elizabeth said. "The rest were painted by local artists."

"They're exquisite. This seems like a cozy room for winter,"

"It is," Elizabeth said, gesturing to the plush blue velvet wingback chairs and pink settee. "So much so that we use it year-round."

'I like it in here," Agatha said, curling her bare toes into the tapestried carpet, while Elizabeth tied back the heavy purple velvet curtains, letting in the morning sun. She looked wistfully at a tall bookcase, filled with all manner of books.

"Elizabeth," Agatha began, not taking her eyes off the books. "Will you teach me to read?"

"Of course," Elizabeth replied. "It will be fun."

They went on to explore the next room, which was another parlor, but this one was decorated almost entirely in white. "This is the winter parlor; mother uses this one to entertain her friends. Father doesn't spend much time here."

"There are fireplaces in every room," Agatha commented.

"Yes, my mother tends to catch a chill easily. We keep all of them burning at night, that was the main reason Father chose this house, for the warmth. It's well insulated."

In the middle of the room, descending from the ceiling was a chandelier festooned with candles that glinted in the reflection of the crystals. The furniture was white, piled with lacy pillows.

"Mother likes to make pillows, it's her hobby."

The room was also carpeted, but here it was beige, dotted with tiny roses. An ornate brass-framed mirror hung over the fireplace, and the walls contained ocean scenes, lighthouses, and forest scenes.

The wallpaper was beige like the carpet and decorated with patterns that resembled gold pillars. The ceiling was carved with alternating flowers and diamond shapes, outlined in gold.

"And this is my bedroom," Elizabeth said, throwing open a set of wooden double doors and allowing Agatha to precede her into the room. Elizabeth's bed looked identical to Agatha's on the third floor, black wrought iron frame with two pillows and a thick blue and white striped quilt.

The wooden floor was so highly polished she could almost see her reflection. There was an off-white square carpet next to Elizabeth's bed, a brown wooden vanity with two drawers on each side, and a mirror above.

The wallpaper was off-white and patterned with red roses. Elizabeth's window was double-sashed and larger than Agatha's. It looked out over the lawn at the front of the house, while Agatha's looked the opposite direction, over the garden and the woods.

There was a bath chamber on the second floor where Elizabeth's room was, and a smaller one next to Agatha's room on the third floor. Each contained a brass mirror on the wall and wooden cabinets for towels. A round table held the pitcher and washbasin, underneath the table was the bucket for filling and emptying the iron clawfoot bathtub.

The room was lit by numerous candles in brass sconces on the four walls.

"Will you show me the garden next? I'll explore the woods by myself, later."

Elizabeth paled at the mention of the forest, as she had before. "Please don't go alone, take one of the male servants with you."

"Alright. Can we tour the gardens now?"

A set of white marble steps led from the rear patio down to a gravel path that winded back and forth through a large garden. There were fruit trees, lemon, apple, and peach.

"I see that these are the source of those delicious pies!" She exclaimed, smiling as she spun in a circle, taking it all in.

There was a large fenced-in section where tomatoes, peas, and other vegetables were growing. Gazebos and benches stood every ten feet, and the garden was enclosed by a ten-foot-tall hedge, open at the back of the property where the path turned to dirt as it entered the forest. A closed iron gate separated the garden from the forest, ten feet high, having two leaves that swung outward, with gothic style spikes or finials along the top.

The cousins reached the back of the garden and as they turned left, Agatha ran her fingers along the vertical bars. Her fingers burned as if the metal was red hot. She yanked her hand back, and as she turned it over, she saw that the pads of her fingertips were red and blistered.

"Agatha, what happened?" Elizabeth cried out in concern, gently gripping her cousin's hand while she examined it. "Was the gate hot? It looks like your fingers are burned!"

"I don't know what happened."

Elizabeth gingerly touched the fence, then turned to Agatha. "How strange, it doesn't feel hot now. Let's put some ointment on those burns."

Elizabeth led her to the bathroom on the ground floor and had her sit in the chair next to the window while Elizabeth put salve on her burned fingers and wrapped them with a clean cloth.

"Mother taught me how to do this," Elizabeth said.

"Taught you what?" Aunt Ellen's voice floated toward them from the doorway. Elizabeth turned as she approached and kissed her cheek.

"Good morning mother. Agatha was saying that you taught me how to treat burns. She burned her fingers on the garden gate."

Ellen frowned at Agatha's bandaged hand. "The gate burned her? How?"

"I don't know," She replied. "The gate was hot, perhaps from the sun."

Mother looked puzzled, but she just shook her head and didn't say anything.

Agatha had a theory about why the gate had burned her, but she didn't want to share it, so she quickly changed the subject.

"How are you, Aunt Eleanor? Elizabeth tells me you are troubled by drafts, hence the need for the fireplaces to be lit often."

"Yes, dear. It's not so bad in the summer."

"I admire your home, it's lovely."

"Yes," Aunt Ellen replied. "We are fortunate to own this home and the lot."

Later that night, alone in her room, Agatha thought about her parents and the old farmhouse. A wave of sadness washed over her as her thoughts turned toward remembering her parents that night, the last time she had seen them healthy. Agatha got out of bed, knowing she would not be able to sleep. She paced the room, then thought of the forest.

Remembering the iron gate, Agatha slipped on her cotton work gloves before she silently treads her way downstairs and out the back door.

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Author's Note

Thank you so much for reading! I'm getting "Wails in the Night" ready to publish, so I want it to be as polished as possible; please help me out by leaving a critique on each chapter!

Thanks so much!

~ Annie