A Parish Darker: A Victorian Suspense Novella (14 page)

A great many thoughts clouded my mind as we trotted along that familiar path. My true aims and intentions were chief among them. The overgrowth that once extended on either side had retreated into the dusky marsh below. The once lush majesty of the countryside had been cast back. Its bright greens had become more earthly, with the branches of trees limping toward the ground, their leaves more sparse and less numerous than during my first visit.

My driver on this occasion was a young man, not a year over twenty by early my estimation. He said little upon our departure from the local township—likely, I thought, due to unfamiliarity with English. During the trip, however, he spoke as he ushered the horses to a slow, quiet pace for resting.

“We don’t get many visitors wanting to come out here,” said the local. “What brings you out to this place?”

The pattering of the horses’ hooves became therapeutic to my tempered nerves, their faultless rhythm rivaling that of practiced musicians. I was hesitant to share a great deal of information with a stranger regarding my visit. I said only, “I have some business here, with an old acquaintance.”

“With the Baron, then? There aren’t many others that live all the way out here, after all.” Curiosity was evident in the young man’s voice, but providing details did not seem beneficial to him, me, or anyone else.

Despite my silent response, he continued, saying, “My father speaks highly of him. He has often told anyone who’d listen that he singlehandedly witnessed the Baron treating a foreigner that got lost out here some years ago. Most talk of him is good, but it seems he keeps to his lonesome in that castle. No one in town has mentioned seeing him for several years now.”

With those few choice words, I began to recognize the manner of speaking despite the twenty years that had passed. The delivery and dialect had clearly been passed from father to son, along with the profession itself.

The rest of our journey occurred in silence until we were finally at our destination. Peering on from the carriage when it was finally within eyeshot, I saw and observed the castle for the first time in twenty years.

Its form was exactly as I had remembered it. While its dark exterior had not changed form, it had aged considerably in the years since my original visit. Very little attention had been paid to sustaining the property, as overgrowth now stretched from top to bottom at various points of the stone exterior.

Even the entrance had seen little maintenance. Vines had started to wrap around the hinges to the large double doors. It was with some surprise that I saw the window to the right of the entrance had been repaired as if the events of twenty years ago had never taken place.

Upon arrival, the young driver and I parted ways after giving him my gratitude and some gratuity for his assistance. He was not a young man I expected to ever meet again—indeed, his acquaintance could have very well been the last I would ever make. Such a realization is one that many would have met with anxiety, surely, but I reacted with only calm.

Knowing what I knew after those twenty years allowed me to return to Castle Savanberg with a new resolve. I was not afraid of the future; instead, I was embracing it. What would come would come.

As the Baron had promised, the door gave way without resistance. The interior was left in a natural dusk, illuminated only by the faint sunlight outside. Overcast clouds gave the impression that inclement weather was imminent.

I had packed lightly for the journey, bringing along only one suitcase filled with items for the day. I did not intend nor expect to spend long at Castle Savanberg, and I suspected the Baron thought as much as well. Whatever business awaited us, it would be brief.

Though two decades had passed since my departure, I had retained an intimate familiarity with the layout of the castle. The only notable deviation was a thin but present layer of dust that had settled over much of the interior. Ample cobwebs could likewise be eyed throughout the expansive hall and from the chandelier above. There had been doors that seemed as if they had gone unopened for extended periods of time, with only a beaten path running lateral from the study’s corridor over to the library being especially prevalent.+

A strange confidence had arisen in me by the time of our engagement. The mystery of what had occurred twenty years prior had haunted me a great deal, as you have no doubt ascertained from my writings. Yet, it was the correspondence from the Baron that at last put me at ease. I had grown to fear this place, this castle. Now, with my shoes treading its once lush interior that had gone astray, it was not the daunting foe it once seemed. Whether this self-assurance and poise would stand in the face of what was to greet me ahead, I could not say.

I stepped forward into the corridor where I had last seen the Baron many years prior. The horror of that night had vanished, whether that had been by cleaning or time I could not be sure. Neither blood nor bodies could be seen, though I had my suspicions as to their eventual resting place within the confines of the castle.

 
My steps had become heavier in my advanced age. I am no longer the young and naïve man I once confessed to being. I suppose it was twenty years of pondering the horrors of that night that instilled in me the idea that there was no worse that could await me than what I had witnessed that very night. That allowed me to walk without allowing nerves to rattle my confidence to any extent I’d consider significant.

Upon turning the corner, I once more gazed upon the entrance to the study—the door fully abreast and open to its hinges. As I neared the entrance, the memory of being shut out of the room those years ago left me with a faint worry that the door may once again close and I would once more face the wrath of unknown assailants.

I knew upon greeting the Baron that I would not be able to hide the toll the twenty years of reminiscing had taken. What I did not expect was his jovial attitude from the past to have reached an apex when he at last stepped into frame just as I reached the doorway.

My entrance into the study—that very first step—arrived with no fanfare as the Baron’s back had been turned. His dress was more formal than in our last rendezvous. Now in a full dinner jacket, clean, pressed, and suitable for a man of his pedigree, he still preferred to dress dark. He stood just affront me, with his mind on the cages of rodents drawing his attention.

“Edwin, Edwin, Edwin,” said the Baron with his back still turned, “I cannot tell you how happy I am to see that you have come!”

Without remarking further, he turned in place and advanced on my position. I put my briefcase to the side and stretched out my hand. “I was surprised to receive your correspondence, Baron.”

“Never! Never should you be surprised to hear from an old friend,” said he, taking my hand with both of his and shaking as if nothing had ever occurred between us—certainly nothing as grotesque as what had. “Come, come, make this place your home as it is mine.”

The Baron in his older age had the widest of eyes, as if age had done nothing to slow his mind. In his older years, he had remained as sharp as I remembered and then some. His dark hair had begun to show the mildest of grey speckles, though the few wrinkles on his face did little to undermine his natural vitality. What was most troubling was that his face, even in its advanced age, was familiar to me despite not having met prior to that moment.

“Age has treated you very well, my dear friend,” said the nobleman to me as he turned his head and looked from side to side. His words were complimentary but surely hollow—at first glance, I would believe myself older than he at this point in life. The Baron had not worried in the same manner as I had and had not lost the sleep that I had.

“You are too kind, Baron,” I replied, “but I see time has decided to forget you. You look as if you have aged only weeks, not twenty years.”

I did not take his words to heart and instead only looked around to see the room was now filled with a great many instruments—a great many things existing in configurations far beyond my comprehension.

“Life can be a great adventure in that way. It is unpredictable for some, very unpredictable. I have always thought that one lifetime is not sufficient for seeing all I wish to see. Surely I must then prolong it as much as possible?”

I nodded without clearly following his words. My eyes found themselves observing the advanced nature of the room compared to before.

“A storm is coming this night,” said the old Baron, catching my gaze. “These instruments you see here are barometers for measuring the state of atmospheric pressure. They are but one of many means to an end.”

When I reached out to touch them, he placed his hand atop mine and led me away, saying, “Come, come, let us retreat to quarters more comfortable.”

The older Baron had aged with grace and dignity, but time had still taken its toll to some degree. He did not move with the ample agility he once did. His movements seemed more calculated, more precise, and much less sprightly. I nonetheless felt him a formidable physical specimen, despite his age surely exceeding his sixtieth birthday.

The two of us made our way to the library across the main hall and ventured inside. As with the rest of the estate, it likewise had not changed in terms of furnishing since my previous visit. The Baron invited me into the same seat I had taken when we spoke after the first encounter that fated night.

“You must be tired, poor friend of mine,” said he, taking an allotment of fruit and placing it to my side. He then poured an alcohol into the glass nearest and offered it to my hand. My suspicion was that the Baron had planted all of the items for this occasion. The fruit was fresh, the glasses had been readied, and nothing was out of reach or needed to be fetched.

Morse, and whomever else may read these words and those of my past encounter, you may think me mad for this, but I never saw the Baron as a bad man. That was tried as we began the conversation I dictate to you now.

 “
Were you at all hesitant to rejoin me here, Edwin?”

I shook my head. “No, I knew within minutes that I would come.”

The Baron laughed and smiled as he crossed one leg over the other and rested his knitted fingers atop his knee. “You never cease to surprise me, despite the circumstances.”

I was unsure what he meant by that, but I had questions for him—whether he suspected as much, I could not know. Those questions were my reason for returning. I knew that if I did not return, with confidence, and seek out those assurances, I would see my grave with that madness begging at my mind until my final breath was drawn.

“Baron, you must have your suspicions as to why I have come?” I asked, without any qualifying statements to imply subtlety.

“Surely!” he exclaimed. “Surely you have come for answers to questions even you—traveled and bright as you are—have not yet found the answer. Yet, the real question for you to ponder is not that; it’s none of what you may have considered from twenty years ago. The question that should be on your mind is simply this: ‘Why?’ Why are you here now?”

“Who should go first?” I spoke with a determination I had not had years earlier, but I was thankful for the Baron giving me the opportunity even if his intentions were not altruistic in nature.

He smiled. “Let us share these moments and take turns, shall we? You may begin. I assure you I will be as honest as is possible given the state of things.”

“Twenty years ago, you caught me off guard when, after that… initial incident, you knew Emilia’s full name. Yet, I know I did not share it with you and I cannot recall it being written or recorded anywhere within my things.”

My host once more brought his hands to his lips to form a bridge to his thoughts. “I was—let us say… I was told.”