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Chapter I, Part B · The Irtonwood Ghost

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  Section two of The Irtonwood Ghost by Eleanor Glynn. This LibriVox recording is in
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  the public domain, Chapter one, Part B and presently, when missus Charters
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  was tucked up upon the rather hard sofa, preparing to have a siesta before
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  dinner, she felt at peace with all the world. It was not long
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  before she was sound asleep, and here she had a strange dream. She
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  felt herself unaccountably moved and perturbed. She had a sensation of breathless waiting tension
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  while she stood in some dark place. And suddenly it seemed as though only
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  one spot in the blackness became illuminated. And then she saw an old'escretoire.
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  There was nothing else, no furniture, no room, nothing but this
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  old writing bureau standing in space, and there on it lay unfolded a yellow
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  parchment upon which seemed to have fallen some drops of fresh blood. Esther woke
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  with a sensation of supernatural excitement and fear. And then she reasoned with herself
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  could anything have been more foolish? A dream with no incident, no personages,
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  no action to cause such a feeling. There was something uncanny about it,
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  though, What if the room were really haunted. She was not sure
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  she liked it. After all. She got up quickly and rang for her
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  maid, glad to have company and lights. But all the while she dressed,
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  she saw nothing but the escritoire, the parchment, and the three drops
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  of blood. You look pale and pathetic, Sir George Sefield told her,
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  with tender anxiety in his voice, as they went in to dinner, what
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  has happened? I want to know. But it was not until about the
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  first entree that he could get her to unfold her dream. Her other hand
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  neighbor was the attractive whole foreigner who had come down in the train with her,
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  and who had no intention of allowing her legitimate partner to monopolize the conversation.
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  He listened attentively as she described minutely her strange incident to Sir George,
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  bending forward so as not to lose a word, much to that gentleman's disgust.
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  I hate the brute, he thought. Why cannot he attend to the
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  woman he has taken in what very strange dream? Mister Ambrose Duval said,
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  and where was the escritoire? You have no idea, not in the least,
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  replied esther. It was all in space. But why the blood?
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  And then a thought struck her. Of course, she exclaimed, this is
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  some vision sent to tell me where I am to find a most important document.
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  How stupid of me never to have thought of it before a document?
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  Both men asked. But while Sir George's eyes only expressed deep admiration for the
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  lady herself, mister Ambrose Duval's had a concentrated eagerness to hear her words.
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  That was arresting. Why should this interest him so, wondered Sir George,
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  and it caused him to feel puzzled and irritated. Missus Charters was no chatterer,
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  and not in the habit of imparting her private affairs to strangers. So
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  she laughed and changed the conversation now to lighter things, dividing her time equally
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  between the two men, until the ladies rose to leave the room. Sir
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  George Seafield was incensed. Why had his good friend Ada Hardress asked this foreigner
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  to Urtonwood, and why had she put him next to esther, the lady
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  of his heart. I believe she is rather drawn towards the jackanapes, he
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  angrily thought to himself, and with difficulty kept from sparring with him as they
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  sat over the port ada. Where did you meet mister Duval, missus Charters
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  asked as a group of women hung over the big drawing room fire. He
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  seems an interesting creature, doesn't it he? Several of them chimed in mysterious
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  and delightful. One affirmed so good a looking. Another announced his eyes are
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  too close together. Old miss Harcourt said in her sententious way, I shan't
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  play bridge with him. We met him in Hungry last summer. The hostess
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  at last got in. It seems absurd, but he was an hotel acquaintance.
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  Only he knew such a lot of people we did. He seemed like
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  an old friend, and we saw him often, and he was always cheery
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  and nice. He has relations in England that he has come to look up.
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  I am so glad you find him attractive. I do myself. He
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  has been too charming. This last fortnight, when we were up in town
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  for Christmas shopping, he had just arrived from Paris, and I have never
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  had so delightful a companion. So I asked him down for Christmas. He
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  said he would be lonely and is so absorbed in the study of old houses.
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  Then some one began to play the piano and the group broke up,
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  and soon the gentleman joined them, and a general move to the big oak
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  paneled hall commenced when the younger members started a valse while the fidloose three,
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  who had come down from London to entertain the Yule Tide guests, played merrily.
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  Sir George Seafield was detained by the host for a second and had the
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  chagrin to see Missus Charters whirling in the arms of the foreigner. He shut
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  his firm jaw with an ominous snap. I am dashed, if I'll put
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  up with it, he muttered, and went and claimed the next turn.
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  The moment the pair paused for breath, How cross you look to night,
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  Sir George, missus Charters said, as they danced. My last partner was
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  so agreeable and sympathetic. I wanted to wring his neck. Was all the
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  answer she got. And then he added, as they stopped and wandered off
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  to a distant sofa in the gallery, I am sure he is up to
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  no good. I'd watch the silver if I were Jack Hardress. It is
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  really remarkable to what depths of spite. Men will descend about one another,
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  Esther laughed, as they sat down. No woman would be so transparent.
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  And I'll just because mister Duval is a foreigner and has good manners and does
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  not show moods. And she leaned back provokingly among the cushions. You like
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  him, Sir George asked, indignantly, and then aggrievedly. But any one
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  can see that if you are going to be unpleasant, missus Charters said,
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  I shall leave you and dance with him again. He valses divine thee.
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  Sir George's eyes blazed. If you do, I will wring his neck.
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  I could easily, he blurted out, absurd brute force, and she smiled
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  plaintively. Englishmen are so crude? How you do tease me? Esther,
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  Sir George said, and then stopped suddenly, who told you you might call
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  me that? Missus Chrotters frowned a piece of impertinence. But here her voice
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  faltered, for she saw that her companion was no longer listening to her.
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  His eyes were fixed with an intense interest upon a picture which hung upon the
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  wall opposite them, the portrait of a lady in late eighteenth century dress with
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  a rather high waist and flowing white draperies, while her hair fell in ruffled,
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  unpowdered curls. It was not by any celebrated artist, but was a
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  pleasing picture, and as Esther's eyes took it in, she knew why Sir
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  George was so absorbed, for it bore a most wonderful likeness to herself.
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  By Jove, was all he said. It certainly might have been painted from
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  me, She allowed, who can it be? But they could not find
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  out. The host whom they questioned did not know. He happened to be
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  passing that moment and joined them with his foreign guest. They had only taken
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  the place from the Walworsts for a year, he said, and the Walworst
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  had bought it just as it stood, from some one else. It had
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  changed hands once or twice, and he could not remember now which were the
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  original owners. It is supposed to be a portrait of the ghost. I
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  believe, he told them. Some old retainer informed Ada. When we came
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  the white lady who haunts the library in the cedar chamber where I sleep,
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  cried Esther with a note of distress. Oh Jack, I believe I am
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  half afraid. I'll come and watch outside your door if you are, said
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  Sir George, then you can call me if you feel frightened in the night.
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  I will tackle any ghost for you. I should glory in the act.
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  I do not doubt it, laughed the host and discreetly walked on,
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  but mister Ambrose Duval stayed behind, examining every turn of the brush in the
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  picture with a critical eye. Esther had grown very quiet, Sir George noticed
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  she suddenly felt again that strange sense of excitement, a cold, unpleasant feeling
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  of tension and dread, and she looked up into his face with an appealing
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  pair of soft gray eyes. Let us go and dance again, she said,
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  I want to get warm once more. I feel cold, and Sir
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  George joyfully encircled her slender waist and held her close as they rejoined the dancers
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  and whirled about. Who sleeps next to me? Missus Charters asked, as
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  a laughing group of women went up to bed about one in the morning.
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  But she heard with secret dismay that the only other room in this quaint square
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  wing was a sitting room with a little oratory attached. You always have said
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  you adored ghosts and weird things. Missus Hardress said, oh dearest, I
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  would not have put you in the cedar chamber, so I do, of
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  course, returned Esther rather haholf heartedly. She was a proud woman and ashamed
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  to show her fears. Everything looked most bright and comfortable when she got to
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  her room, and her devoted elderly maid had waited up for her and now
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  put her to bed with every care. So tired out with her dance,
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  Esther forgot her sense of uneasiness, and soon sank to sleep again between the
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  slippery, fine sheets, while the dying fire made flickering light in the vast
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  room. But in the gray dawn she awoke in mortal fright, for she
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  had dreamed again of the dark space, the getoire, the parchment, and
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  the drops of fresh blood. End of Section two