THE GHOST OF WARBOROUGH HALL
"Childhood is not only the childhood we really had but also the impressions we formed of it in our adolescence and maturity."
– Cesare Pavese, 1908-1950
CHAPTER THREE:
"Well," Astrid said in between her laughter, "I say being startled is the same as being frightened."
I mumbled something unintelligible, even to me.
"My dear, there is nothing wrong with admitting to being frightened by something you cannot explain."
I pursed my lips. "The thing is, Miss Hofferson, when someone frightens me, I usually just kick them in the gut, and then I feel better as they writhe in pain. I can't really do that to ghosts, can I?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But what if the ghost suddenly turned into someone you knew. What if the ghost turned into someone you knew could not have existed beyond what is reflected in the mirror? Will you kick the ghost of you?"
I blinked. "Um, I… actually don't know how to answer that."
"I ask this strange question because, you see… Astrid had always liked wandering around, much to her nursemaid and governesses' frustration. She was known by all as the little nomad, and in one of her early morning wanderings, she saw a ghost. A ghost! In the gardens! Or perhaps it was a faery child. Whatever it was, the spectre frightened the young girl so much that she came back to the house as fast as her short legs could carry her.
"She burst into the drawing room where her father was smoking as he read the morning paper. She clambered upon her papa's knees and clutched at his shirt as she sobbed in fright.
"Lord Hofferson tried to soothe her, and after a few hiccups she finally managed to utter one word.
"Ghost!
"Ghost? Her father asked, ever the sceptic. My little nomad, there is no such thing as a ghost.
"But papa, I really saw her! I was walking, and walking, and then I heard someone mimicking my steps. And I turned around, and there she was!
"Who did you see?
"Astrid squirmed in his embrace. I saw… me.
"Lord Hofferson laughed, almost with relief. My dear, you saw only your own reflection.
"Now Astrid did not like being laughed at, especially when she knew she was in the right. And so she pouted, her face going red with pent up anger. I know what I saw, she insisted. And I saw another me!
"Of course you did, Mr Hofferson chuckled as he kissed her round face before setting her down. Now run along and find me another adventure!
"And so it was that Astrid decided to never be afraid of anything that she could not explain. In fact, she swore that the next time she saw this child ghost, she was going to walk right up to her and tell her off for scaring her."
Miss Hofferson grinned at me proudly.
"So did you really see a ghost?" I asked.
"Ah," she replied ambiguously.
"'Cause I'm with your papa here. I bet you just saw your own reflection in the window."
"Perhaps."
I puffed out my cheeks in frustration.
"You will get your answers later, child. I promise I will leave no mystery unsolved."
"And I suppose your father didn't look into this incident further."
"Well, it gave him reason to write to his red-headed friend. Astrid was, after all, at an age when exposure to other children would greatly benefit her. Perhaps that was why she conjured up an imaginary ghost. Or it could very well have been another child from the village come wandering the grounds in the morning, and this my father did not like at all. Or worse, it could have been… well, something else entirely!
"He immediately wrote to his Scottish friend, and invited him to Warborough Hall next time he was in the area, for the Haddocks were great travellers and loved nothing more than questing everywhere. Can you guess why my father wrote to the Scotsman?"
I grinned. "His son, a playmate for you to annoy, as promised."
"His son, a year older than Astrid, but a toothpick of a boy to Astrid's childish chubbiness. They had never met before, as both children had been too young to travel when either parent was visiting the other. But now that the chance presented itself, Lord Haddock grabbed the opportunity and, sooner than even my father had anticipated, the Lord and Lady Haddock had arrived with their son in tow.
"Astrid tried to like the boy. She really did. But she did not understand him, and he did not understand her. She liked following the rules of the games that they played, whereas he tended to overcomplicate things. He had a wild imagination, whereas Astrid inherited her father's hard-headedness. Astrid spoke her mind, yes, but this boy! Lord help us, even at that young age, that boy had a mouth as quick as a whip and as sharp as a tack.
"Finally, after what felt like an eternity for Astrid, the time came for the Haddocks to be on their way. But where were the children? The nursemaids and Nellie, Astrid's governess at the time, asked around, and before long word got out that the children were nowhere to be found in the house. In increasing panic they searched high and low. They were not hiding in their rooms. They have not climbed down to the cellars. They were not begging for pies in the kitchens. They called for them, enticed them with sweets, promised them with games, and finally threatened them with anger. But the children did not come out.
"Suddenly, two of the gardeners came in, carrying a child each. Both children were mud encrusted from head to toe, their faces smeared and beyond recognition if not for their distinctive eyes. The Lady Haddock took one look at her son and laughed, taking him in her arms from the gardener and not minding the mud at all. The two Lords, however, shook their heads in exasperation. The servants that had helped in the search rolled their eyes in amusement.
"Astrid was grinning proudly. But the young Haddock boy was looking tearfully at his parents.
"Oh Astrid, Lord Hofferson knelt to her level after the gardener had lifted her down. What have you done to the boy this time?
"What? Why me? Ask him!
"Lord Haddock glanced at his wife, then at the boy. Son, what did you do to Astrid?
"I didn't do anything! He shouted defensively.
"Liar! Astrid snarled.
"Am not!
"Liar!
"Astrid, Lord Hofferson gave her a look. In fact, it was the very same look he gave her naught but a week before when he caught her trying to climb the library bookshelves without a ladder. She knew that look well. And she knew that when he gave her that look, there was no way of winning.
"And so Astrid sighed in defeat and explained. We were walking in the gardens. I asked him if he had a parting gift for me. He said he did, but he did not have it yet, but he also did at the same time. Papa, he was being weird again, as usual.
"I am not weird! The boy was nearly crying at the injustice of it all.
"Are too!
"Astrid, Lord Hofferson warned her.
"But I did give her a parting gift! The boy exclaimed defensively.
"Yeah, right! Astrid snorted. What kind of a parting gift is a kiss?
"There was a moment of silence as the adults digested this new information, and then Lady Haddock roared with laughter. You kissed her?
"The boy looked down sheepishly. Only because you kiss father before he goes on long trips, and he kisses you too whenever you leave.
"The Haddocks and Lord Hofferson looked at each other. The Scotsman shrugged. Well, the lad has a point.
"And I thought she was pretty, the boy added, emboldened. Not anymore though.
"Take that back! Astrid nearly launched herself at him if not for her father's restraining hand.
"Astrid, apologise. Now.
"What am I apologising for?
"Uh, for shoving me in the mud? The boy piped up.
"I shoved you in the mud so that you can UN-kiss me!
"Astrid, if you don't apologise to Lord Haddock's son in three seconds…
"Alright! Alright! I'm sorry.
"For? Her father prompted.
"Astrid gritted her teeth. For pushing him in the mud.
"The boy sniffed. Well, I am not sorry for kissing her.
"Astrid let out a scream as the boy stuck his tongue out from his safe position upon his mother's arms.
"Well, I think we should get this filthy Romeo cleaned up. Lord Haddock quickly urged his wife to move before another fight could break out.
"I agree, Lady Haddock winked at Astrid. But before we leave, I would just like to say, on behalf of my son: thank you for giving him his first ever mud bath.
"Mama! The boy cried, feeling utterly betrayed.
"Right, let's get you cleaned up! She turned on her heels, her son still protesting in her arms.
"Lord Hofferson looked over at the two gardeners who were trying their utmost not to laugh, and mostly failing. He sighed. He decided that the ghost would probably be far more tolerable than another night of squabbling children.
"Needless to say, that was the last time in a very, very long time that the Haddocks brought their son with them to Warborough Hall."
Astrid sat back on her chair.
I sniggered. "Wow."
"Indeed."
"That sounded like something my brother and I used to do."
"I can imagine," Astrid said, smiling. However, she suddenly grimaced with pain.
"Miss Hofferson?"
"I'm… I'm quite alright."
"Should I fetch a doctor?"
She waved her hand. "No need. It is my illness, fighting the medicine. I am fine." She took a shuddering breath, and after a while she leaned back in her chair and smiled faintly. "See? I am fine, or as fine as dying would allow. We shall, however, continue tomorrow at breakfast, if you do not mind."
"Not at all."
She nodded gratefully as she rang a bell. "Good evening, Miss Thorston."
I gathered my things and bade Miss Hofferson good night once Missus Parsons arrived with another lady, who I presumed was Astrid's nurse. I measured her with my eyes as I passed her – could she have been the spectre I had seen earlier today?
After leaving the library, I gathered enough courage to make a quick midnight detour to the portrait corridor in search of Astrid's mother. There were a few portraits of women in blue, but my eyes were instantly drawn to the portrait I was looking at before. The portrait of the woman with ice-blue eyes, her blond hair tucked in a bonnet, a small smile mischievously gracing her lips as if she had in her possession something that was mine, something that I had not yet realised I had lost.
I shivered.
She looked like a younger, curvier Astrid Hofferson. The portrait was hung next to a bearded man in hunting clothes, dogs sitting attentively and adoringly around their master's feet. Portrait of Lord George Hofferson in Hunting Dress, the silver label under the painting read.
I looked back at Lady Hofferson's portrait and admired her beauty.
Her name was Bertha.
I barely slept at all that night, but worked long and hard transcribing Miss Hofferson's story. I notated not only her words, but also her movements when she relived her childhood to me. I mimicked her actions as I wrote them: The quirking of her eyebrows, the subtle changes in her voice, the hand movements as she painted a scene in the air.
After hours of transcribing, I stood up and stretched, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension caused by hunching over my desk for too long. I flicked to the back of my notebook and silently read the list of questions that Miss Hofferson was yet to answer. And then an idea struck me.
I grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and wrote to my good friend, Fishlegs, to research the Haddock family for me. I knew him from days of old – from high school, actually, and I knew him well for his investigative mind. He already lived and breathed research anyway, doing a doctorate at university and all, so this should be a cinch for him. He was the perfect candidate.
Fishlegs? Oh, well, obviously Fishlegs was not his real name, but it was a nickname that had stuck with him throughout high school and beyond after a hilarious accident in Year 9 which earned the little geek the respect of the entire school. Besides, he never liked his real name anyway, and so the Fishlegs name stuck. He had always been a very good friend to me - Tuff even went so far as to suggest that the reason why he was so nice was because he fancied me. Ugh, come on! Me and Fish? Pfft yeah, no. Even if he did, that guy can't handle me.
As I wrote the letter, I started to feel a little guilty. I felt like I was going behind Miss Hofferson's back, even though I knew I could trust Fish. I also felt like this story was currently a secret between Astrid and me, for some bizarre reason. But I had to know. And so it was to him, and not my friends at the publishing house, that I sought help in finding more information about regarding the Haddocks from the North. All I could give him were the scant details that Miss Hofferson had told me, but I knew it would be enough.
I tapped my pen upon the paper as I gathered my thoughts. While I felt guilty, I didn't really feel like this was cheating. As promised, this was for clarification. She gave me the names of all involved except for the very person who initiated the muddy kiss: Lord Haddock's son. I found that a little strange, and this strangeness needed to be clarified. I hunched over my desk once again.
"Find me the Haddocks, Fishlegs. But most importantly: Find me the son."
I chewed the top of my pen. I mean, it's not like I would not be able to find the boy's name easily anyway. The Haddocks were an aristocratic family after all. Their family tree would be so easy to trace Fish would be disappointed I didn't give him something more difficult.
After another moment's thought, I added: "Can you also find a family connection to dragons - I'm talking family crests, perhaps their residence was named after one, maybe even look for the remains of a real dragon. I don't know, Fish, just look for dragons."
I shoved the letter in an envelope I found on my writing desk and quickly scribbled his university address at the back. I then slid it in the tray that was still holding my cold soup. I was sure Missus Parsons would find it when she picked the tray up tomorrow. I just hoped she wouldn't read it before she posted it…
Actually, she probably would. She read Miss Hofferson's letter to me, after all, otherwise she would not have known that Astrid told me not to be late. And if she knew about the contents of this particular letter, then Astrid would know also, and God only knows what Astrid would have done if she found out. Perhaps she'd dismiss me, which would have been nightmare, because she already had me so completely entangled with her tale that I would have gone nuts if I didn't hear how it ended.
I picked the letter back up from the tray and decided to give it to Paul instead. I was sure I could trust Paul.
I barely noticed that it had started to rain until a sudden shower pattered against my window. With my room facing the topiary, I could just hear someone's boots squelching in the mud in the gardens. I glanced at my watch. It was already quarter past five, and the dark horizon outside my window was yet to lighten. Even so, the world felt like it was breathing awake once again after its nightly death.
And I felt very much ready for slumber.
So I scrambled into my bed, not even bothering to unbraid my hair, and I instantly fell asleep to the faint tune of someone humming an underwater lullaby. But I had barely slept a wink when I was woken once again by a loud knock at my door. I groggily opened an eye and noted that it was already light outside.
It was still raining.
I shuffled to the door and opened it, glaring at the housekeeper. She raised an eyebrow.
"Miss Hofferson has requested you to join her at breakfast."
"What?" I groaned. "It's too early for breakfast!"
She sniffed. "I would hardly call seven-thirty early."
"It is to me!'I snapped. I knew I was being incredibly immature, and that I had to act like a professional, and meet my employer downstairs, and… and… but…
I looked back longingly at my warm bed.
"She will wait for you at the drawing room," Missus Parsons said before walking away. I inwardly groaned and shut the door hard behind me.
Will I never get any proper sleep in this house?
Author's Notes:
Do you think that Ruff is cheating by asking Fishlegs to find out more about the Haddocks?
And yay Fishlegs is introduced! It's so not obvious that I ship Rufflegs. I also ship Ruffgur. Yeah, I ship both. No, I don't know which one I ship harder.
Also: Lady Hofferson's name. At the time of writing, Dreamworks hasn't disclosed Astrid's mother's name yet. And since I read somewhere that Astrid was based off Camicazi anyway (it was mentioned by Bonnie Arnold, I think?), I decided to name her mother Bertha too, after Cami's mother :)
As for Lady Hofferson's portrait, please see the updated cover image of this fic to see the real portrait that I based it on. To anyone interested, it is a portrait of a young Amalie of Zweibrücken-Birkenfeld, the first Queen of Saxony.
Once again thanks to LizzyLori for the incredible support! I am very glad that you are enjoying the story so far. And Sweettea8 for your kind words, and because you liked it so much I shall start writing longer chapters from now on! :D
Next Chapter: In which we learn about what happened to Astrid's first governess, Nellie Mayfair. The atmosphere gets darker: The next chapter definitely won't be as cute and cuddly as this one.
PS: If you are enjoying the story please leave a review! You have no idea what your words do to fanfic writers. We squeal and do a little dance when we get a notification in the mail. We are but parched, melodramatic beasts, and your reviews are the only things that would quench our thirst.