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The group scoured every inch of the garden, their search meticulous but ultimately futile. Not a single trace of anyone could be found. Yet, one detail lingered in their minds—the marks of blood beneath the window of the room where Flora and her mother had been when the brothers ventured into the ancestral vault.

Recalling Flora’s shot at the spectral figure and its subsequent vanishing act, they speculated on a possible injury inflicted. The blood stains confirmed their suspicions. Henry and Charles meticulously combed the garden, hunting for clues about the wounded entity’s escape route—man or vampire.

Exhausted from the night’s tension and lack of sleep, they retreated to the hall. Flora, save for the shock of the pistol, remained undisturbed. They fabricated a story for her, painting the gunshot as a precautionary measure against potential intruders.

Morning brought a welcome relief to the troubled household. Nature’s beauty, illuminated by the autumn sun, seemed to erase the darkness and dread of the night. Henry, gazing at the serene park from a window, wrestled with the idea of abandoning his home due to a phantom threat.

The morning’s tranquility eased his distress, a natural response to the daylight’s warmth and life. Yet, amidst this calm, the lodge bell’s unexpected chime jolted Henry, signaling an uncommon visitor at this hour.

In a matter of minutes, a servant approached Henry, bearing a letter with an imposing seal, signaling its sender’s importance. As Henry scanned the letter, the name “Lazarus” caught his eye, sparking a hint of annoyance.

“Another condoling epistle from the troublesome neighbor whom I have not yet seen,” Henry muttered to himself, somewhat vexed.

“If you please, sir,” the servant interjected, “as I’m here and you are here, perhaps you’ll have no objection to give me what I’m to have for the day and two nights as I’ve been here, cos I can’t stay in the family as is so familiar with all sorts o’ ghostesses: I ain’t used to such company.”

Henry’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

The servant’s response was blunt and tinged with apprehension. “Why, sir, if it’s all the same to you, I don’t myself come of a wimpier family, and I don’t choose to remain in a house where there is such things encouraged.”

Henry wasted no time. “What wages are owing to you?”

“Why, as to wages, I only come here by the day.”

“Go, then, and settle with my mother. The sooner you leave this house, the better.”

The servant’s departure brought Henry a moment of respite from the unsettling conversation. He turned his attention to the letter from Sir Ferdinand Lazarus, his mysterious neighbor. The letter contained a surprising proposition.

“Dear Sir,” it began, “As a neighbor, by purchase of an estate contiguous to your own, I am quite sure you have excused, and taken in good part, the cordial offer I made to you of friendship and service some short time since...”

The letter went on to suggest that Bennett Hall might not be a suitable residence, proposing a purchase of the estate. Henry’s initial surprise gave way to contemplation as he weighed the implications of Sir Ferdinand’s offer and the underlying motives behind it.

“Believe me to be, dear sir, “Your very obedient servant, Ferdinand Lazarus. “To Henry Bennett, Esq.”

After reading the letter, Henry folded it thoughtfully and tucked it into his pocket. He clasped his hands behind his back, a favored stance for deep contemplation, pacing the garden with a troubled expression.

“How strange,” he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. “It seems that every circumstance conspires to urge me to leave my old ancestral home. What could be the meaning of all this? It’s incredibly peculiar. Events unfold, pushing one towards departure from a particular place. Then a friend, reliable in judgment and sincerity, advises the same step, followed swiftly by a fair and open offer.”

There was an undeniable connection between these events that puzzled Henry. He continued pacing until the sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention, revealing Mr. O’Hara’s arrival.

“I will seek O’Hara’s counsel on this matter,” Henry resolved. “I need to hear his thoughts.”

“Henry,” O’Hara spoke as he neared, “why are you here alone?”

“I’ve received a letter from our neighbor, Sir Ferdinand Lazarus,” Henry explained.

“Indeed?”

“Here, read it yourself,” Henry offered, handing over the letter. “Then tell me honestly what you think.”

“I assume,” O’Hara remarked as he perused the letter, “it’s another friendly note offering condolences on your domestic affairs, which, unfortunately, have become fodder for gossip in neighboring villages and estates.”

“If anything could add to my distress,” Henry sighed, “it would be becoming the subject of vulgar gossip. But the contents of this letter are of greater significance than mere condolences. Read it, O’Hara. You’ll find it more substantial than you expect.”

O’Hara’s brows furrowed in concentration as he read through the note. After finishing, he looked up at Henry.

“Well, what is your opinion?” Henry inquired eagerly.

“I’m at a loss for words, Henry,” O’Hara admitted. “You know I previously advised you to consider parting with this place.”

“Yes,” Henry affirmed.

“In hopes that the troubles associated with it would remain tied to the house, not your family.”

“That was the hope.”

“It seems likely,” O’Hara mused.

“I can’t deny,” Henry confessed with a shudder, “that it seems more probable to me that the troubles we’ve faced, especially with the persistent visitor, may follow us rather than stay confined to this house. The vampire might pursue us.”

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“If that’s the case, then parting with Bennett Hall would be regrettable and gain us nothing.”

“Exactly.”

“Henry, a thought has struck me,” O’Hara began, his voice carrying a weight of contemplation.

“Let’s hear it, O’Hara,” Henry responded, intrigued.

“It is this: Suppose you were to try the experiment of leaving the Hall without selling it. Suppose for one year you were to let it to someone, Henry.”

“It’s a possibility,” Henry mused.

“Yes, and it might be proposed to Sir Ferdinand Lazarus with great promise and candor. Let him take it for a year to see if he likes it before committing to purchase. If the vampyre troubles him, he can back out. Likewise, if the apparition follows you elsewhere, you could return, finding solace in familiar grounds even under such haunting circumstances.”

“Solace,” Henry muttered with a mix of longing and doubt.

“Perhaps I should not have used that word,” O’Hara conceded.

“You definitely should not, especially in regard to me,” Henry remarked firmly.

“Let us hope for happier times ahead,” O’Hara said optimistically.

“I will hope,” Henry replied, though his tone was tinged with caution. “But do not tease me with it now, O’Hara, please.”

“I would never tease you,” O’Hara assured him. “But about the matter of the house...”

“Indeed, I will discuss it with my family. They should have a say in this decision.”

O’Hara then made every effort to uplift Henry’s spirits, painting a brighter future and suggesting that time might heal their current distresses.

Although Henry found little comfort in these optimistic musings, he thanked O’Hara sincerely before heading inside for a serious discussion with his family about the fate of Bennett Hall.

The proposal suggested by O’Hara regarding Sir Ferdinand Lazarus met with unanimous agreement from the family, given its reasonable and just nature.

Flora, showing a glimpse of her former vibrancy, expressed her willingness to leave, believing that departure from the Hall would also leave behind their world of terror.

“Henry,” Flora said, her tone tinged with regret, “if you were so keen on leaving, why did you not voice it sooner? Your wishes are paramount to us.”

“I was attached to the old house,” Henry explained. “And events unfolded so rapidly, leaving little time for reflection.”

“Understandable,” Flora nodded.

“Will you leave, Henry?” Flora asked with a hint of hope.

“I will personally speak to Sir Ferdinand Lazarus about it,” Henry affirmed.

The idea of leaving brought a renewed sense of life to the family, each feeling lighter and freer with the prospect of shedding the haunting memories associated with Bennett Hall. Charles Holland, too, seemed uplifted, whispering to Flora, “Perhaps a new beginning awaits us beyond these haunted walls.”

“Dear Flora, will you no longer cast aside the honest heart that beats for you?” Charles implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

“Hush, Charles,” she whispered, glancing around cautiously. “Meet me in the garden in an hour, and we shall discuss this.”

“An hour will feel like eternity,” he sighed.

Meanwhile, Henry wasted no time in his resolve to visit Sir Ferdinand Lazarus. At Mr. O’Hara’s insistence, he brought him along, recognizing the need for a third party in this business affair. The estate recently acquired by Sir Ferdinand Lazarus bordered Bennett Hall’s grounds closely, making the journey a short one. As they arrived at the elegant residence of Sir Ferdinand, Henry asked O’Hara if he had met the gentleman before.

“No, never seen him,” O’Hara replied. “Have you?”

“Never laid eyes on him. It’s rather awkward being strangers to someone so integral to our plans.”

“We can announce ourselves and rely on his courtesy, given his letter’s tone,” O’Hara suggested optimistically.

A servant welcomed them and led them into a tasteful reception room to wait while their names were announced.

“Do you know if he’s a baronet or just a knight?” Henry asked.

“I’m in the dark as well. I’ve been preoccupied with the hall’s events,” O’Hara admitted.

Their conversation halted as the servant returned, announcing Sir Ferdinand’s readiness to receive them in his study. They followed up to a dimly lit room where a tall figure rose to greet them.

A gasp escaped Henry’s lips as he recognized the man before him, identical to the portrait on the panel. “God of Heaven!” he exclaimed.

“Are you unwell, sir?” Sir Ferdinand inquired, his voice smooth yet carrying an air of mystery.

Henry, visibly shaken, stammered, “You resemble... I’ve never seen you before...”

“Hush, be calm,” O’Hara whispered urgently.

But Henry’s shock continued. “I must be mad... This is a dream, O’Hara, tell me it’s a dream!” he pleaded, his eyes fixed on Sir Ferdinand, who observed him with an enigmatic gaze.

“Compose yourself, Henry,” O’Hara urged as Henry struggled to regain his composure.

Sir Ferdinand Lazarus, his voice as smooth as silk, inquired, “Is your friend often so agitated?”

“Not usually,” O’Hara replied. “Recent events have unnerved him. Your resemblance to an old portrait in his house contributes to his distress.”

“A resemblance?” Henry exclaimed. “It’s more than that! It’s the same face!”

“I’m surprised,” Sir Ferdinand remarked calmly.

Henry sank into a nearby chair, trembling violently. Thoughts raced through his mind, each more unsettling than the last. “Is this the vampire?” echoed in his thoughts like a haunting refrain.

“Are you feeling better, sir?” Sir Ferdinand asked, his voice gentle and soothing. “Shall I fetch some refreshments for you?”

“No, no,” Henry gasped. “Please, tell me. Is your name truly Lazarus?”

“Yes,” Sir Ferdinand replied evenly. “I am proud of my family name and heritage.”

“How uncanny,” Henry muttered. “Your resemblance... I can’t fathom it.”

“I’m sorry to see you so distressed,” Sir Ferdinand said sympathetically. “Is it ill health that troubles you?”

“No, it’s not physical ailment,” Henry admitted. “Recent events in my family have left me with troubling suspicions.”

“What do you mean?” Sir Ferdinand inquired with an almost beautiful smile.

“You’ve heard of the vampire sightings at our house?” Henry pressed on.

“Yes, the rumors,” Sir Ferdinand acknowledged with a smile that seemed too perfect.

“It’s more than rumors,” Henry insisted. “Your likeness to... that being... it’s unsettling.”

“Surely, you don’t believe in such superstitions?” Sir Ferdinand’s smile remained unwavering.

“My beliefs are shaken,” Henry confessed. “I’m bewildered.”

“Be cautious, Henry,” O’Hara whispered. “It’s impolite to imply such things directly.”

“I must,” Henry insisted, turning back to Sir Ferdinand. “Your resemblance is undeniable.”

“Unfortunate for me, I presume?” Sir Ferdinand’s demeanor shifted slightly, a twinge of pain crossing his features.

“Are you unwell?” O’Hara asked, concern evident in his voice.

“No, no, no,” Sir Ferdinand quickly deflected Henry’s concern. “I merely hurt my arm, accidentally brushing it against the chair.”

“An injury?” Henry raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Sir Ferdinand affirmed. “A minor one, hardly more than a scratch. Just a superficial abrasion.”

“May I ask how it happened?” Henry pressed.

“A simple stumble,” Sir Ferdinand explained.

“Indeed,” Henry mused.

“It’s quite remarkable, isn’t it?” Sir Ferdinand continued. “The precariousness of life, how a small misstep can lead to significant consequences. In the midst of life, we are in death.”

“And perhaps,” Henry ventured cautiously, “in the midst of death, we may find a terrible life.”

“One can’t help but wonder,” Sir Ferdinand agreed with a smile. “There are so many oddities in this world, one stops being surprised by anything.”

“There are indeed strange occurrences,” Henry agreed. “You’re interested in purchasing the Hall, sir?”

“If you’re willing to sell,” Sir Ferdinand replied smoothly.

“You seem to have a fondness for the place,” Henry observed. “Perhaps you have memories of it from long ago?”

“Not that far back,” Sir Ferdinand admitted with a smile. “It’s a charming old house, and the grounds are beautifully wooded. As someone with a romantic inclination, I find it quite appealing. The scenery is unparalleled in its beauty. You must have a deep attachment to it.”

“It’s been my home since childhood,” Henry replied. “And for generations before. Naturally, I’m attached to it.”

“Understandably so,” Sir Ferdinand nodded.

“The house has seen its share of changes over the past century,” Henry remarked. “Time has a way of altering even the most cherished places.”

“That it does,” Sir Ferdinand agreed. “A hundred years is a considerable span.”

“It truly is,” Henry sighed. “The passing of time can strip away the joys by severing our most cherished ties.”

“Ah, how true,” Sir Ferdinand nodded in understanding.

Moments later, a servant entered with wine and refreshments, breaking the somber atmosphere with a touch of hospitality.