Chapter 3 - The Haunting

Several days had passed since Mr. Burkes arrival to the London residence. Flynn had coaxed Anthony into booking a train and hiring a hansom to take them out to the country house. Anthony had kept the papers from the briefcase shoved into the old worn leather case. He could not be bothered at looking at them. He knew the handwriting all too well. They were of his fathers and grandfathers. It pained him to even glance at them for a moment. The letter addressed to him was crammed in a hidden compartment inside. He figured he would deal with it when he was ready. If there ever was such a time, or perhaps he would just burn it.

Flynn could see that Anthony was in better physical health since leaving London. Anthony even said he felt better. He commented that his joints were no longer hurting him. Flynn was no longer concerned about the welfare of his friends physical well being. He was now wondering about his mental prosperity. Riding in the hansom, a million memories flooded through Anthony's mind the closer they came to the country house. He felt out of place returning to this house after so many years. He remembered when he had last departed the winding trail. There was such a large rain storm it seemed to be pushing him away from the house. Chasing him and his shattered family like a pack of hungry wolves away from its prey.

This time the road had a feeling of beckoning, of wanting. He rubbed his face with his right hand and shook it off. He must be imagining it all in his head. The whole situation was getting a bit much for any man to handle. Flynn, who was brought up a bit more zealot than he was, seemed to just be going with the flow of things. He handled everything like it was supposed to happen. He acted as if it was the plan all along. Anthony’s stomach felt very queasy about even thinking that anything divine had a hand in any of this rubbish. He kept telling himself that this was all for research and furthering man's educational purposes. It was that or he would simply lose his mind. He just kept telling himself over and over what he had witnessed in his Grandfather’s study with Mr. Burke was too much brandy and a catch of the London chill.

“Is this all your land?” Flynn asked. Trying to break the awkward silence. He was peeking out the curtains of the hansom in awe. The rolling hills reminded him of his home in Scotland. Though they were in an enclosed cabin of the hansom, the smell of the clovers came in sweet from everywhere in the moors. It made him feel a touch homesick even though he didn’t have a home of his own to go to.

“It is but we rent a lot of it out to the farmers. We basically charge them enough to pay the taxes for the land. Not profit. My family has been doing that for years.” Anthony paused for a moment.

“Now you can’t go quoting me on this to say if its fact. I have no idea if it’s true or not. My Grandfather told me, that during the war between England and Scotland, our ancestors found a way to help Scotland and Ireland, at least with food supply. My ancestor did not care for Longshanks, nor did the residents of this land. Many spies held sanctuary here as well. You will see when you come to the grounds, there is a very old small church on the outskirts of the grounds. There are tunnels under the grounds that lead into the main house as well. I think they are all collapsed or are in ruin. It was in use for a very long time, from what I was told. A great storm collapsed the church and spooked the residents. They did not rebuild the church after the storm. My grandfather meant to rebuild it, but that meant raising the rent for the tenants, even for a year, and he didn’t want to do it. When it comes to things like upkeep of the grounds, my family has always been looked down upon with the noble class society.” Anthony laughed. “We are fine with that.” He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a small flask and took a drink. The cheap whiskey burned his nose and throat. It pulled him back to reality and warmed him up.

“I think it may be time to rebuild it. Right now, my instinct tells me with everything going on we might want to keep a low profile. Make it look like you are back doing...” Flynn twirled his hair and began to ponder “...something normal like putting down roots. Couldn’t hurt, eh chap?” Flynn smiled his toothy grin. “Make it seem like you’re the normal one in the family tree. Throw them a bit off the trail. What is the best way to hide, but in plain sight?”

“You know that is actually not a bad idea. We do have trusted servants at the house and the house has not been repaired or had upkeep in who knows when. People come to tour it all the time. My family name has always been one of absence, if you know what I mean, based on our reputation. With the unsettling news of my grandfather, and the uncertainty of things, I have to make it look like I am setting down roots.”

As they had been talking, each moment brought them closer to the house that ensnared so many memories. Above the noise of bleating livestock, warm cheers could be heard from the locals as they passed by each farmhouse. The villagers knew the Lloyd family crest and it was all over Anthony’s luggage. He put his face in his hands. He should have just bought plain unmarked bags in London. He forgot as a child what attention it drew coming home. It was heartwarming to hear the excitement. The lord of the land was home.

The hansom stopped a few times for the horse to stretch their legs and they rested for a while in the small town in which Anthony now owned. It took him a moment to grasp just how many people he alone was responsible for. The shock and awe hit him, like a load of bricks making his head spin. He reached in his coat jacket for the empty warmth of the whiskey flask. Why his family took such risks and abandoned their responsibilities, he couldn’t fathom. The town seemed to be running smoothly in his families’ absence. The taxes he knew, were always paid. However, a town was more than just finances. He noticed the roads were in a bit of bad shape, comparing to some of the other small English towns he had been to, with other lords running them. He saw his family had turned a blind eye, running all over the world for a few trinkets and parties. He gritted his teeth in disgust. He didn’t have much time to fix all of these things. He felt as if the weight of the world was once again on his shoulders. While the hansom was resting and switching horses, Flynn decided they should go into the local tavern. Flynn had enough of ‘trail dust’ as he had commented. Anthony was glad they did not dress like they usually did when they were in London. They had dressed robber baron attire, blending with every day businessmen. They blended in well and did not turn many heads.

They took a table in the back of the inn and sat down with their backs facing the wall. This was a habit that Anthony’s father and grandfather taught him a very long time ago. Even though he was a top student in St. Andrews, he sat in the back of the classroom. It made him feel more comfortable. He never could place the habit, but it was rooted in him. Flynn went out with him many times to the local pubs around St. Andrews after studies, and he had also adapted this habit. Even when his classmates were up close at the bar, singing songs and having a jolly good time, he never broke this habit. Anthony would come up on occasion but his back would always face the wall. Flynn just figured this was his nature nevertheless. After the current events that had taken place, the puzzle pieces to his friend were starting to fit.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“What can I get for you two gents?” A young lady with a scarf covering her dark hair asked them politely.

“I am not sure,” Flynn said sheepishly. “We are just passing through, what are you serving today?” The bar maiden smiled warmly at the both of them.

“Well, Ms. Taylor is our cook in the back and she always has a good pot of potato an’ mutton stew. It warms your bones with a good slice of bread an’ butter. Most of our local chaps wash it down with a cup of ale. Judging by the way your dressed, might not be fancy enough?” She chuckled teasing a bit.

“Now wait just a minute. We all come from somewhere and my own mother used to make that recipe herself. That was one of my favorites as a young boy. Wonder where your cook got that recipe? I will take 2 bowls! You can’t get good home fare like that any place in the big cities!” Anthony said smiling.

“Now that’s what I like to see!” The bar maid said happily. “Some of the people we get coming through here ‘specially the high topped ones that go to see the big house, turn their nose up at lots of the stuff we have ‘ere. We are in need of some repairs, here and there, aye, but we all have heart. We couldn’t have a better lordship here. I think we have a young lordship now, we have yet to meet him. We are all a bit curious to find out what he’s like to be truthful, sir.”

“I’ll have two bowls as well and keep the ale coming young miss.” Flynn said with a smile. He gave her a silver coin, that paid for the meal and a hefty tip. Anthony thought it best to pull any attention off of himself. He gave Flynn a large amount of silver for their trip to pay for expenses. Flynn’s thick Scottish accent was a very good deterrent for anyone who was watching or paying attention. Simple rumors would be squashed. They would look like anyone else just taking a tour of the house or business men passing through, Anthony was hoping. As long as they didn’t see the hansom they were riding in and they had made sure to distance themselves from it when they entered the pub. Anthony was kicking himself for not buying plain luggage in London. They were only a few more miles from the country estate, there was nothing he could fix about the problem now. When they did arrive, that was one of the first things he was going to purchase for the rest of his travels.

“You’re in another bind it looks like, my friend.” Flynn said quietly after the bar maiden came in haste with their drinks.

“Why does it seem like things are just piling on like horse shat.” Anthony buried his head in his hands. “I feel like throwing this mug of ale across the room. I am sorry my family turned a blind eye. I mean you saw the roads coming in, its bad. I understand my grandfather had his reasons. I think, I don’t know, maybe he had one. I have yet to understand them all. He had brothers, nine of them! I mean nine! I know the last time repairs were done, was when my grandmother was around. Well that’s what I have been told anyway, but nothing makes sense anymore. None of this makes a lick of sense. Then again, none of my family ever did. I wish I could say that I could tell you we were normal, even in the aristocrat ways. We have supported the crown and our travels to India with the upheavals in the constant rebellion. We pay our taxes. We are related somehow or another to hold the lordship titles, we have a very old bloodline. Again, so I have been told. My family is extremely wealthy, that’s the only reason I think these nobles actually tolerate us, I do believe.”

“My uncle was a paid mercenary for the Indian Rebellion of 1857, in the indies. He never returned. Money came in for a period of time, but it stopped. The last we knew, he was in Delhi and that town was laid to waste. War is a terrible thing for both sides. We got a few letters sent home from my uncle. There was a great famine going on there, from what he wrote. That’s why the people were fighting. He was trying to help us out on our farm, yet the people over there were just trying to do the same thing. There are no real victors in war. It's just who has the most numbers it seems. There are some battle wounds even I can’t heal. It goes deeper than flesh.” Flynn said with a heavy heart.

The food came just as swiftly as the ale did and the two men ate heartily. The warm stew filled them both inside and out. They left the pub, then walked quite a distance. They had told the hansom to wait on the outskirts as not to attract attention.

“Young Master, we are ready to go now,” the new hansom driver said. He tipped his hat as he opened the carriage door. Anthony noticed he was young, but his eyes were hollow. Upon closer inspection of the young gentleman, he noticed that he was also limping a little bit.

“Cold weather getting in your bones sir?” Anthony asked politely.

“Oh,” the driver squeezed his hat a bit tighter. “Just got home a little while ago. Still adjusting. Doc says I will be better soon. War wounds ya see. It’s an honor though, to serve the crown. I’m just glad to be home sir. The missus was tending the farm without me. I didn’t really like the heat where I was at sir.”

“India.” Anthony said softly. His eyes stared at the young hansom driver so painfully. Even in his grandfather’s corner of the world, where he thought everything was untouchable, the taxes were low enough so that his farmers didn’t have to worry about wages to go to war. It was still reaching its cold grasp, destroying lives here. The reaches of the crown were getting too greedy. All of the comforts Anthony had, all the protection due to his status, shook him. These peasants had no such shield.

“Why yes sir! Wild land that is. Have you ever been?”

“I have a long time ago. During more peaceful times, I believe.” Anthony said with a sad smile.

“I can imagine merchants like yourself go all over. We do like our tea here.” The young man held the door open wider as if to say the conversation was over. Then beckoned them both into the cabin of the hansom. They both climbed in. The young man took no notice of the luggage or any of their belongings. Anthony thought the hansom driver believed they were just another group of people going to tour the house. He was very thankful for their stroke of good fortune.

They were only five miles away from the country house when Anthony had a strange feeling take hold of him. It was not the foreboding feeling he had when he left, long ago. The place was calling to him. He couldn’t explain how or why. The feeling was warm and welcoming this time and confused. He also felt a deep sadness. They had pulled back the curtains to the hansom to watch the people as they were getting closer to the manor.

The look was the same in all the men as they passed. The hollow haunting look in all their eyes, as if their souls had been sucked out of their bodies and they were nothing but empty shells with farming tools in hands. To Anthony, it looked like ghosts were now farming the moors, no longer happy people that he once remembered. There was not one sound of a farming song or a heavenly hymn to pass the time as the families worked the rich soil, that always provided each year. There was only the scraping of a hoe or a scythe, the occasional cry of an animal or crack of the whip to go along with the clicking of the horseshoes down the road to the country house. It felt like something was keeping a hold on the land. In Anthony’s heart he knew something was haunting his land.