10. Protected by Faith

On the way up to Allerdale Hall, Edith wondered why she was so worried about involving someone in their problem. Father Christopher had taken them very seriously. He had, he told them, performed exorcisms before and would gladly do it for them. So he took them up to the manor in his carriage, the ascent eased by the almost molten snow. Only up on top some was left, but most of it was stark red. Thomas claimed that over time the grass would return and the world would stop looking like it had been drowned in blood.

'So,' the Father said when they drew close. 'You will need to leave this spirit to me. It would be best if you waited outside. Do not let any odd sounds disturb you.'

'We're used to odd sounds,' Edith said. She watched the man. He didn't look like much, but that didn't need to say anything. He was relatively tall and almost as broad and had an extremely round and rather red face.

'How long have you lived with this demon?' he asked.

Thomas snorted. It was entirely humourless and strained. 'Thirty-four years.'

The Father looked shocked. 'But that is a dangerously long period. Are you certain that it had no influence over you?'

'It did not,' Edith said before Thomas could answer. 'My husband wasn't serious. This ghost is a recent acquisition.'

'You need to disclose the facts to me,' was the gentle reprimand.

'We are,' Thomas amended. 'The ghost's been here only a few months, and we've been down in the village for most of that time. We know it wants to influence me, but so far, it hasn't succeeded. Not much.'

'What does it want you to do?'

'To kill myself,' Thomas answered.

'Ah. Yes. Some of the beings from hell will do this. Remember the Gerasene demoniac.'

'Sadly, I do not have swine,' Thomas said drily.

'Do not worry, Sir Thomas. I shall free you of the evil spirit. You need to wait outside, I cannot emphasise this enough.'

Edith frowned slightly. 'And how long? I mean, what do we do if you don't come back by nightfall?'

'By nightfall,' the Father scoffed. 'I may require a couple of hours, but no more than that. Do not concern yourselves.'

Edith watched him enter the house, wondering again if this had been a good idea. Thomas didn't look any happier than she felt. He folded his arms and shivered despite his warm coat. 'I don't like the idea of leaving anyone alone with her,' he confessed.

'What do you suggest?'

He shook his head. 'What else can we do? We wait. He's done this before. Right?'

'Right.' Edith leaned into Thomas. 'Also, she's just a ghost, and he is a man of God. What's the worst that can happen?' They waited.

Ϡ

Edith was increasingly restless. Thomas stood stock still with his back against his machine. He looked for all the world as if he had turned to stone. Maybe this ability was a requirement of English aristocracy, but it was something she couldn't do. So she walked around the house, walked the perimeter of the grounds, looked at the array of machinery and registered that the infamous clay harvester wasn't the only thing here. If Thomas still meant to reopen his mine, they would produce tiles and bricks right here. It was all there.

When she returned to him, she saw his smile. 'What?' she asked.

'You have no idea what is yours, do you?'

'I don't … what?'

Thomas offered his arm. 'Walk with me, fair maiden.'

Pulling herself up to her full height, Edith attached herself to his arm. 'Why, Sir Thomas. I do hope you have no designs on my virtue.'

'Oh, never worry.' He bent down to whisper in her ear. 'I would know the perfect place for such an endeavour, but of course, not at this time of year. I would embarrass myself in this cold.' Edith laughed and let herself be led away behind the house. 'You see,' Thomas said, 'the grounds begin where the gate is. On the other side, you'll notice the lack of any fencing. That is because the end of this nice flat part of hill is not the end of the grounds. There is a path, but it's not safe right now. Nothing that can't be handled when the weather is stable.' He pointed down the slope. There was something that might be a path. 'And no,' Thomas said, 'this isn't where I threw the poison.'

'I wasn't going to ask you that!'

'Why not?'

'It doesn't matter.' Edith nudged him. 'Thomas, stop it. Stop hurting yourself.'

He looked at her with this gentle, earnest expression that had taken her breath away from the moment she'd met him. 'I'll try.' He put his arm around her waist and walked her to the edge. 'If you look carefully, there, in that direction, you'll see a small river. It's in the wood, and when the trees are green you can't see it. Now you see it as a thin white line. At least if you know where it is. That's where our grounds end. And there, ah … it's hard to describe now, it's easier when there's more than a frozen wasteland. Anyway, in that little forest, there's a clearing with a large flat stone, right by the river. It's very beautiful. And if I were to plan to seduce you, this is where I'd do it.' Gently, he steered Edith back to the entrance. 'It used to be more, but we had to sell a lot of land. What we're left with is a patch of forest that is so inaccessible that it has no practical use whatsoever.'

'And the mines.'

'And the mines,' Thomas echoed. 'The mines. What should I do, Edith?'

They'd been through this. Several times. It was time for a less theoretical angle. 'Well. You could reopen them now, couldn't you? I've written to Ferguson that I'm signing over my money. Again. It's not like I'm going back anyway.'

'Out of the top of my head, I can tell you at least fifty reasons why this sounds very, very wrong.'

'You need the money if you want to do this.'

'That's just one item on the list. I don't know what I want.' He halted and stared at the harvester. 'Lucille was the one who never wanted to leave. Deep down, I wanted to get as far away as possible. Only I put so much into this that it's hard to let go now.' He looked back at Edith. 'Also with the fact that soon enough, she will be gone for good, the prospect of staying here doesn't sound quite as dire as it used to. Still dire, though, if I think about the state of the house.'

'It's your call, Thomas. Your project, you need to know if you want to abandon that.'

'You get a say in this, Edith. You're the one who can fund it, not me.'

'Thomas, I believe in you. I believed in you all the time. So yes, I'll help you. But I'll also help you if you say, damn this all to blazes, I'm off.'

Thomas took her shoulders and gave her a long, intense look. 'Don't you want to run away as fast as you can? Do you really see yourself living in a house where you were almost murdered?'

'Truth? I just don't want her to win. I would love for you to see this through, not by destroying others but by accepting help lovingly given. It would be wonderful for your life's work to be a success. It would be just as wonderful to walk away with you and leave all this behind. I don't care which. I really don't. The only thing I want is for you to be happy, but you can only find that in yourself. Not in the mines, not by running, and not through me. With me, yes, always, but it needs to come from yourself.'

Thomas chuckled. 'As usually, you are right. About everything. Then I'll have to make up my mind, don't I?' He frowned. 'Now how long does this take, do you think? You don't, by any chance, have experience with exorcisms?'

'Sorry. None. But he's been a while.'

'Did you hear anything? I sure didn't. From the way he talked, I expected to hear the most gruesome sounds. I don't like this one bit.'

'Me neither. Do you think we should look?'

Thomas lowered his voice. 'I mean, we could just sneak in and out again. Just take a peek to make sure everything's fine.'

'Yes. That's so mature, sneaking after people. Let's do that.'

Thomas grinned at her. 'I love it when you're crazy with me.' He sobered when he faced the entrance. 'Hush now. If he catches us, he'll be angry.'

Ϡ

The moment they stepped through the door, they locked eyes. Edith pointed to the library. It was as good a place as any. The priest hadn't asked anywhere near as many questions as she had expected, hadn't wanted to know who they thought the spirit was or why it wasn't just moving on to … wherever. But then again, she really had no knowledge about exorcisms.

The house was exceptionally silent. No creaks or groans, and the only shadows were them.

The library was deserted, the ruined remains of the piano still in the room. They'd left so abruptly, taking care only of what was necessary, that it had stayed behind. Edith gave the upper level a cursory glance and met Thomas back down at the bottom after he'd looked around there. Back in the corridor, he pointed at her and the kitchen and at himself and the back of the house. She nodded and crept on, wondering what on earth an exorcist would be doing in something as mundane as a kitchen.

'Edith!'

Thomas's voice was loud but clipped. Something was horribly wrong. She ran out and almost into him as he was walking backwards from the elevator. 'Thomas, what happened?' Her question came in a whisper, pointless after he had shouted loudly enough to be heard up to the attic.

He turned and looked at her, his face devoid of expression. 'I am a dead man. Edith, he … this can't be happening.'

Edith walked past her husband, keeping a hand on him and leading him with her. The elevator was stuck between their floor and the one below. The sliding door of the cage had been open, and between its roof and the ground the priest was caught by the neck. His face was purple, his eyes bulging – the unseeing stare of a clearly dead man. 'Oh dear God,' Edith managed. Thomas reached for the button, but she caught his hand in time. 'Don't touch it! Don't touch a thing.'

'Edith, it doesn't matter.' He backed away again, unable to tear his gaze from the dead face, into the wall behind him and slid down until he sat with a thud. 'You could protect me so far, but even then it was a close call. This time, there was no-one else here and now they'll look at the other murders again, too. They have to find me guilty, at least as an accessory. I am going to hang. You will be a widow.' His voice was composed and quiet, frightening her more than if he had screamed. And the image his words conjured, her Thomas on a noose … gone, taken from her … Thomas got to his feet, his eyes distant. 'I mean, I deserve it. But the disgrace for you … I should do it for them.' His words were barely audible as he started walking off.

Edith stepped in front of him and stopped him with her hands on his chest. 'Thomas, I'm going to hit you if you don't snap out of it.'

He blinked at her, slowly. 'Edith, I have to spare you …'

'This is her. She's making you. Fight her! You can, Thomas, I believe in you. I told you.'

Thomas's expression didn't change. 'I've got to get out of this house,' he said. His pace suddenly brisk, he fled until he was back at the carriage. He put his hands on it and panted as if he had run for miles. 'How?' he asked. 'How is she doing this?'

Edith shrugged. 'I suppose if we knew that, we wouldn't need help.' She put her hand on the back of his neck and massaged him gently. 'You are stronger than her. You just have to believe it. And you will not hang. There is no way you could have done this.'

He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. 'You're right. I'd have needed to be in the elevator with him and I wouldn't be able to get out with it stuck there. I'd have had to take the elevator back up, hold him by the head and simultaneously send the elevator back down. That thing doesn't play such tricks. And given his physique, I wouldn't even have the kind of strength needed, even if you went down and called the elevator while I held him.' He faltered. 'All right. I'll stop rambling. Now.'

'Your rambling makes more sense than anything you said earlier. The witnesses to what happened before were mainly me, and to a point Alan. And both Alan and I told the investigator that you tried to keep him and me alive, that you tried so hard you were almost murdered yourself. You were cleared before there even were charges.' She caressed his cheek with her knuckles, lingering on the scar under his eye. Visible, always, even now that the wound was fully healed. 'Come now. We've got to get down before nightfall.'

'Can we even ask anyone else to risk coming here?'

Edith growled. 'Oh, yes. We can and we must. But we won't let that Deirdre person out of sight for a second, no matter what she says.'

((I didn't want that priest to die. Honest. I wanted him to run away. I blame Verdi, whose Requiem is my choir's next project and I've been hearing that on loop for the past two days.

Since people are actually reading this (thank you so much for letting me know, for leaving feedback … I dig it!), I'd like to say that I have now caught up with myself. This chapter is the latest one I've written. While I will continue tomorrow – I know where I'm going, really, so it won't be forever – I cannot promise that I'll manage daily updates from here on out. Regular, of course, but maybe not daily.))