David Lindsay - The Haunted Woman

At last they reached the lane which ran past the lodge. Here the road forked. One lane went by the lodge; the other, which she did not know, appeared to skirt the western boundary of the estate, going due north somewhere. The chauffeur stopped the car once more at this fork, and Isbel was about to direct him to proceed straight forward when suddenly her eyes rested on a fashionably-dressed woman in furs, who ws walking quickly but delicately up the second lane, away from them. She was about twenty yards ahead, and was alone…it was she …So he had lied, that porter!…But, oh heavens! what an appalling resemblance to Mrs. Richborough. She could pick up that step out of a thousand others…Then she wasn't dead. The whole thing was a conspiracy, directed against her, Isbel. Judge had fallen a victim to that woman at last, and they were quietly putting her out of the way, as an inconvenient person. The hotel manager had been bribed. There was really nothing left to explain…

"You needn't come any further. I'm getting out." Isbel suited the action to the word.

The man looked dissatisfied. "Am I to wait?"

"No, you can go home. Do I pay you, or the garage?"

Being a casual hirer she had to pay him. She hurriedly gave him notes to cover the charge, and, without waiting for the change, or interesting herself in his further movements, at once turned her back on him and started quickly up the lane, round the bend of which the unknown woman had by this time vanished.

She reached the bend herself. The disagreeable noise of the departing car grew fainter and fainter as the distance increased between them, until finally she heard no sounds but those of nature. Everything around her was moist, dripping, and sullen…Mrs. Richborough-for she had now no doubt that it was she-was still a considerable distance in front. They were both walking swiftly, so there was no question of catching her up. Isbel did not quite understand where she was going to, but probably there was another way into the grounds from this side, which would obviate the necessity of passing through the lodge-gate…But, if so, how had that woman come to know of it? And, by the way, where had her car disappeared to?…Isbel asked herself many questions during that period, but she was unable to answer any one of them.

The whole right-hand side of the lane was bordered by an ancient, red-brick wall which bounded the estate. Beyond it was a park, looking grey and disconsolate enough on such a day as this; the wet grass was knee-high, and every faintest breath of wind brought water off the brown-leaved trees. The park sloped downhill from the lane at first, but presently it became level. A dark grey shadowy mass on the forward right was probably the house itself; very likely it was not so far away as it looked, but the light was so bad…Suddenly half-way along a straight stretch of lane, her quarry vanished…

Isbel was careful to keep her eye on the spot where she had last observed her. No doubt there would be an entrance there into the grounds.

Upon coming up to it she found her anticipation was realised. A small iron wicket-gate opened into the park. It had been swung to, but was unlatched. A gravel walk, barely wide enough for two people side by side, led through the grass and under trees towards what could now distinctly be seen to be the house. It was slightly uphill. Isbel passed in without hesitation.

After walking quickly for about five minutes, she again saw the woman. She was as far ahead as ever. She had reached the foot of the steep sloping lawn under the house, and now turned sharply to the left, which would evidently bring her to the north-east side of the building-though how she could be so certain of her direction on this, her first visit to the grounds, was more than Isbel could say. The house itself was by this time quite close. Standing high above her, in the grey mist, it looked a huge, weird erection, the more especially as it was a mere silhouette. The part which faced her must be the back-the French windows of the dining-room, the bedrooms of the top storey, etc…But the time that Isbel had gained of the same spot, beneath the lawn, the woman had again disappeared. She also turned to the left.

The path curved, and in another minute or two she was in full view of the north-east front. The lawn, which was still steeper on this side, towered above her in that dime visibility like a veritable mountain slope, and crowning it was the great house, vast, shadowy, and grim. She could just make out the gable underneath which was the window of the East Room.

While she paused to gaze up, she became aware that the woman was standing close beside her. Then her doubts were remove. It was Mrs. Richborough!…there was something disquieting and peculiar in her appearance, however…Perhaps it was the way she was standing. Her hands were free, and they crossed, not over her breast but over the lower part of her body, with straightened elbows. She was also very erect and still. Her face appeared white and smiling, under the decorative veil she wore-but perhaps it was illusion, the light wsa so poor. Isbel felt a strange uneasiness.

"They told me at the hotel that-something happened to you."

"Oh, yes-I am dead," came the whispering voice. "I died last night."

And then Isbel realised that her eyes ere closed, that this being standing opposite to her, with the dress and bearing of a fashionable woman, did not see the world as other people!…

Her tongue was paralysed, and she shook from head to foot.

The apparition vanished.

The mist came on thicker. It was so wetting that her clothes and face streamed with moisture, though she was too distressed to think of seeking shelter. The upper lawn appeared as a dark shadow against the paler grey of the sky, while the house itself was out of sight.

As she stood trying to overcome her agitation, something began to affect her ears. It was not exactly a sound, but was more like a heavy pulsing. Her head throbbed with it, till she thought she should go mad. Then it ceased abruptly.

Five minutes later, the figure of a man loomed up out of the mist and approached her. It wsa Judge. Isbel pressed her fur tightly to her throat and turned away.

"So it is you!"

When he replied, there wsa a suppressed exuberance in his voice which immediately arrested her attention by its unusualness.

"Yes, it is I."

"Then you told me an untruth? You have not gone to London?"

"I called here on my way back."

"Well, I got your letter. Perhaps you are wondering why I have followed you here, after having received my dismissal. I don't want anything from you, and I don't know myself why I came. Mrs. Richborough led me here. I know now that she's dead, but I have seen her and spoken to her, for all that."

Judge seemed not to remark her statement, for he asked another question:

"Did you hear my playing?"

"Your playing?"

"Yes."…He eyed her curiously. "Your manner is very extraordinary. Surely you recognise where you are? Are you awake or asleep?"

"I'm quite awake and I fully realise where I am, Mr. Judge. I'm trespassing in your grounds-but it won't be for long. I'm going home now."

"Haven't you been to the house?"

"Your house? Hardly, I think."

He drew a step closer, and for the first time she observed that he was not wearing a hat.

"Tell me where you think you are?"

"I have already told you. It is your manner which is very singular, Mr. Judge. Are you quite well?".

"Listen! I am talking with you here, and I am where we wished to be yesterday. Does it not seem so to you, too?"

"I don't understand you. Where did we wish to be yesterday?"

He gave her another searching look. "So you really are seeing differently. And you have not been up that staircase to-day?"