Chapter 12 - Mr. Shelley’s Ghostly Report

Mr. Shelley bowed. “I thought you might like to know the state of the deceased inhabitants in your back-yard,” he said.

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Recap: In the previous chapter, Marjorie met a very interesting person when she went shopping for a ballgown: Aunt Astrid.

Her father’s half-sister and the rightful owner of the grimoire, Astrid had decided to travel to their remote corner of Scotland and claim what was hers. However, she’d concocted an unwise plan by which to do it. As a result, she unleashed a nightmare on her brother and his family. She now hopes to help them be rid of it.

Will the Brahms family accept Astrid’s help?

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Johann noticed Marjorie’s silence as they led their horses away from town, preparing for the ride home. It was not natural for her to be silent, and he found himself puzzling over it.

He’d expected to see her cheered up by the purchase of a frock, but the box she carried was not large enough to contain a ballgown. Had she bought something else, instead of the ballgown she would need on Saturday?

Why? Did she perhaps doubt that he would allow her to attend? Johann was almost certain that he would give his consent on Saturday. Had he been so strict in the past that she would doubt him?

Yes, he realized with a pang. I have kept my children away from town, hidden in a graveyard, where they could form no meaningful friendships, due to my paranoia.

Guilt stabbed at him; he could not allow this isolation to continue. But the nature of his work made his children peculiar in the eyes of town…it had always seemed safest to keep them near home…already the townspeople would be whispering that Marjorie was learning witchcraft…

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he inquired, to which she looked up, wrenched from a daydream.

Marjorie hesitated. He could see in her fair features the flicker of uncertainty. Something had happened, and it disturbed her greatly; why did she not wish to tell him?

“I found something,” she said, slowing her pace. “But also, I—I was found…by someone…”

Johann gave his daughter what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “What is it, little rose? You do not help by keeping secrets.”

He took the box from his daughter’s hands to relieve her from its weight. No, he decided, this is not heavy enough to be a ballgown.

But Johann knew this was not the issue at hand. He waited, knowing that Marjorie sometimes needed to be coaxed to express herself.

“You were writing a letter,” Marjorie said, wiping her sweaty palms on her gown, “to Aunt Astrid, but I do not think you will need to send it.

“There was a woman at the dress shop, looking at the gowns in the corner, and—and she looked out of place. She spoke with an American accent, and said…”

Marjorie trailed off, but Johann’s heart was racing. His daughter did not need to complete her story; he could piece together the rest, and all that mattered was that his older half-sister was here.

Somehow, Astrid Brahms-Stonewall had made it to his remote corner of Scotland—to his home at the end of the world.

“You saw Astrid,” Johann managed anxiously.

She nodded, wringing her hands, a nervous gesture she had learned from her mother; he’d seen Nina do the same thing many times.

“What did she say?”

“That’s the oddest part, Papa,” Marjorie said, frowning. “She said that she would come by our house tomorrow morning, and she hopes to speak with you. She wishes to help you with the trouble that she’s caused, and…and she bought me a ballgown…”

“That she’s caused?” Johann repeated, storing the bit about the ballgown to address later.

Marjorie nodded. “She claims to be the witch who turned the Elf into a raccoon. She’d made a deal with the Elf, or at least attempted to, asking him to steal the grimoire for her once he was changed back into…er, his original form. She saw the spirits last night, Papa, and feels guilty that she resorted to trickery rather than asking you for the book. She intends to help us be rid of the Elf.”

Johann felt his stomach drop with each word Marjorie said. He did not know why, but the thought of Astrid showing up at his door terrified him more than spirits roaming in his yard.

He would need to tell his wife, and ask if she wished to admit Astrid into their home. Hopefully she would say no; then he would have a reason for sending Astrid away—

No, said his conscience, as he was contemplating the idea. I have been a coward for long enough. If Astrid has come here, I will look her in the eye and confess to what I did.

“Come,” he said, as a cold wind caused them both to shiver; it was more of a December breeze than October, and he knew that the spirits were the cause of it. The sun had begun its descent; soon, their spectral forms would return. “I must return home and prepare for my reckoning. You need to sit in front of the hearth and warm up.”

Marjorie’s expression became confused at the word reckoning, but she nodded.

They mounted their horses and rode up the familiar path. Both of them hesitated at the graveyard gates, Johann uneasy for the first time about the location he had chosen for his house.

There remained enough sunlight that the ghosts had yet to take their shapes. Johann offered Marjorie a halfhearted smile and rode in first, careful not to drop the box containing whatever she had purchased.

Not a gown, though, he thought, if Astrid bought it.

Once they had secured their horses in the stable, father and daughter walked hand-in-hand towards the house. Straightening his posture and lifting his chin, he proceeded without looking left or right.

If the Elf was hiding behind a gravestone, it would not see him afraid.

*

“Your sister is here?” Nina whispered, when Johann had finished telling her, in as strong a voice as he could muster, what their daughter relayed to him. “And this—” She gestured wildly at the window, referring to the chaos in the graveyard. “—all of this is because of her?”

Johann sat at the table and stared at his clasped hands. The sun had begun its descent; he wondered, vaguely, if Mr. and Mrs. Shelley would be paying a visit, as the spirits began flickering into view.

He wondered what the ghosts had been doing while daylight shone; did they attempt to vanish in the light, hoping they might melt once more into their states of rest?

“My sister,” he heard himself whisper. “My sister did this to me. Of all the theories that crossed my mind, I never suspected Astrid—that she would curse an Elf into a raccoon—because she preferred to trick me than to see me—”

Nina replied with uncharacteristic anger: “Your sister is a coward. If she wanted her book and knew where we lived, she could have come and claimed it. It seems the time she spent living in luxury has erased from her mind any reason.

“I have half a mind not to let her cross the threshold, but can feel the cold air evidencing spirits’ continued presence. I can also see you are overwhelmed. It seems she is our only chance at reclaiming our life.”

Johann nodded, but remained silent. He didn’t want Astrid to cross their threshold, either; emotions long-forgotten had begun to stir in his soul, feelings he thought he’d managed to sweep away with the art of potion-making—and, later, the responsibilities of fatherhood.

He remembered that evening long ago when, before fleeing from home, he’d taken Astrid’s book from the corner where their mother displayed it. He remembered being young and foolish, thinking that if he studied under the right masters, he would be able to open the grimoire and use it for himself.

Nina had always warned him that a book with a mind of its own would find its way home. That time had come at last; he must surrender the grimoire to the person who should have received to begin with.

He only wished that Astrid hadn’t felt the need to destroy his life in the process; while he might have deserved the severest of punishments, why must his wife and children also pay for his mistake?

“How am I supposed to speak to her?” Nina continued. “Of course I will be present to greet her. This is my house and I will stand by you. But how, Johann? Can you expect me to maintain a farce of calm when she has destroyed our peace? Then she had the nerve to address Marjorie, as if none of it had happened! She dared to bribe her with a gown! I have half a mind not to accept that gown, but Margo is so excited about it—”

A knock at the door spared him from the rest of Nina’s rant. Johann rose and went to answer.

At the door, two inches above the front step, floated Mr. and Mrs. Shelley. They were dressed in the same clothing they’d worn the night before—presumably the clothes in which they had been interred.

Johann smiled at them, trying to ignore the chaos underway behind them. The other ghosts, impatient with the fact that they were still no longer resting, had taken to screaming and wailing and wandering aimlessly in circles.

“I thought I would knock this time,” said Mr. Shelley.

“Thank you,” Johann replied. “I appreciate it. We’ve already had a fright.”

Mr. Shelley bowed. “I thought you might like to know the state of the deceased inhabitants in your back-yard,” he said. “I can tell you here, if you would prefer for us to remain outside—”

“No, no.” Johann stepped aside, though he suspected that Mr. and Mrs. Shelley could walk through him if they wished to. “Come in and tell me what you’ve observed. Nina, go upstairs and tell the children to greet our guests.”

Nina mumbled a distracted greeting to the Shelleys as she hurried past them and up the narrow staircase.

Johann motioned for his ghostly guests to follow him into the parlor, and though he was not certain they needed to sit, he motioned to the couch by the window.

Instead of sitting, Mr. Shelley commenced at once to speak.

“I’m certain that, when you opened the door, you heard the souls who, unappreciative of being stirred from their rest, decided loudness would solve the matter. They are unhappy enough that, if they could, I’m sure they would help you exterminate the Elf. On the topic of the Elf…” He trailed off. “I believe that I spotted him near our mausoleum. He seems to be enjoying the ability to conceal himself. If I were you, I would keep watch tonight. Marilyn and I are in no danger; your family, however…”

“My family is the target,” Johann finished. “I am grateful that you’ve managed to keep the ghosts at bay; there have been none other, that I know of, roaming my halls.”

Mr. Shelley bowed again. “I once had a home of my own, Mr. Wizard, and understand a man’s duty to keep his dwelling-place safe and dignified. Ah, memories! I long to revisit the home where we raised our children, and see my successors. Have you seen it? It’s the tall one on Maple Street with two tall chimneys…”

Johann’s eyes widened. “I know the house that you are describing,” he said. “I’m afraid that your successors were disinclined to stay in town. They sold your house to the second-wealthiest family, the Widdingtons. My daughter, Marjorie, has been invited to a ball that will take place in their house.”

Though Mr. Shelley appeared crestfallen to learn that his family was gone, the reaction was brief. “Would Miss Brahms mind greatly if Marilyn and I accompanied her to the ball, so we can see what our home looks like?”

Mrs. Shelley nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with emotion.

“Er…you’d have to ask her,” said Johann. “I don’t think she’ll be afraid to meet you.” I can’t say for sure, he added silently.

“I shall ask Miss Brahms, then, when she emerges. I would like to reassure you that we will continue to keep the ghosts at bay to-night.”

“Thank you. I have a visitor that I am expecting in the morning.” Johann paused, thinking with dismay of his sister. “Hopefully, after she arrives, there’ll be a way to restore eternal rest to every soul.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Mr. Shelley. “There isn’t much for me in this world, if I can no longer partake in activities that once brought me enjoyment. I would rather resume my eternal sleep, and so would my wife, I imagine.”

Mrs. Shelley nodded.

“Very well.” Johann drew in a breath. “I would offer you tea, but…”

There was a pause, and the three of them laughed. It was pleasant to laugh, after having been forced to swallow so many bitter truths.

Just as Johann was catching his breath, he heard footsteps; Marjorie and Adam were peering around the corner at their translucent visitors.

“Have a seat,” said Johann. “I would like to introduce you to the Shelleys. Mr. Shelley, these are my children, Marjorie and Adam. Perhaps you could entertain them with a story while I retreat for a moment to my study.”

He needed time alone in which to process what he had learned.

The Elf was, indeed, stalking their home; Astrid was to pay a call in the morning; the souls in the graveyard were unsettled enough that he doubted most of them would be civil as Mr. and Mrs. Shelley.

Marjorie and Adam slunk past the Shelleys and took the seat by the window. Johann noticed that Marjorie wore a new shawl of embroidered flowers.

Ah, he thought as he retreated, that is what she purchased.

Once in his study, he took a seat and tried to think of words with which to apologize to his sister in the morning—for he feared that, if his remorse for having stolen her birthright did not sound honest, she might refuse to help him exterminate the Elf.

As he sat as his desk, thinking, a single hot tear slid down his cheek.

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