Chapter 8 - Marjorie Prepares for Magic Lessons

“What if this isn’t sorted out?” Marjorie asked - to which Mama replied, “If it isn’t sorted, we have to leave. I can’t live in a house where the dead roam outside of our windows each night.”

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Recap: In the previous chapter, the wizard Johann and his wife returned to their house after witnessing an alarming scene: their (grave)yard teemed with eerie movement.

Every soul buried in that hallowed ground had been forced to emerge in spirit form by a malicious force.

Once back inside, Johann broke into hysterical tears—for everyone must cry sometimes, even wizards—lamenting that he was such a fool as a youth, stealing a grimoire that now refused to help him.

After having a good cry, Johann realized there might be someone in their house who could coax the grimoire to help: his daughter, Marjorie.

But will she agree? And will it work?

---

Marjorie shivered as she stirred from slumber that had been surprisingly profound, given the events of the night before. 

Looking at her timepiece, she saw it was well past the hour she normally woke. Mama would have to forgive her. It had been a most unusual night, and she could not be blamed if her mind sought respite in the deepest form of sleep it could find.

“Margo?” a small voice asked from the corner, startling her. 

Sitting up, her sleepy eyes focused on Adam. He sat huddled on the armchair in the corner, wrapped in one of his blankets. On the floor rested a sketchbook, some unidentified fungi outlined on the page.

“Adam?” Marjorie asked. “What are you doing here?”

Adam was not wearing his typical haughty expression. He reminded her of the babe who had once trailed after Mama, the one who did not like being left in dark rooms. He must have been more frightened by the previous night’s events than he would care to admit; it was now her duty as the older sister to offer comfort.

Marjorie stretched while she waited for her brother to speak. All the while, she scoured her mind for words of wisdom that might prove she was confident in their safety. Their father was Bamoy, after all. So there was an Elf hiding in the graveyard; he would find a way to eliminate it, like weeds were yanked from flower-beds.

Marjorie then remembered the faint glow that she had seen through the hedge.

Swallowing, she hoped Adam could not see the color drain from her face. She hadn’t told her father about that glow, not wishing to add to his worries. She would need to eventually, but could not bear to place another load upon him…

“I was looking out of the window,” said Adam, voice small. “In the attic, it’s possible to get a decent view of the graveyard on the other side of the hedge. And I saw…” He trailed off. “You won’t believe me.”

“Oh, but I think I will.” Marjorie’s mouth became dry at the realization that the glow had not been her own hallucination. “Go on.”

She did not, however, expect his reply: “I saw ghosts of all sorts. A priest, and children playing, and some ladies in dresses that I’ve only seen in sketches of Mama’s mama…”

Marjorie felt fear settle like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Multiple ghosts had been roaming their yard? She did not wish to disturb her father, but if Adam was being honest about the scale of the situation, it was only a matter of time before Papa found out. 

Had he not promised that they would commence her lessons today? She would find a moment to inform him of what both she and Adam had seen. She was not doing her father any favors by keeping it a secret.

“Well,” she said, “so did I. I saw a glow, anyway, through the hedge—as if someone was standing there with a lantern. I wanted to pretend I’d imagined it, but it was difficult to forget. Not only that, but the room became cold…”

Adam nodded. “My attic was cold, too. I had to put on layers. In fact, it is still cold now, as if winter’s arrived early. Do you know what’s going on?” Pausing, he added in a smaller tone, “Could it be the Elf?”

Marjorie hesitated. She crossed the room to her wardrobe and began digging through her winter frocks. She sensed that today was going to be far colder than the day before. Her October dresses would not provide the warmth that she needed.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “but I’ll ask. Why don’t you go downstairs? I need to get dressed.” She needed time alone to mull over what she would ask her father, once given the chance.

There was a pause. At last she heard Adam’s footsteps and the opening and closing of her door.

Only then did she exhale and run a trembling hand through her hair. It seemed like hours ago her life had been far less complicated. She’d been skipping through the autumnal landscape with a basket in her hand, not knowing that it contained an odious creature that would disturb her family’s peace.

Moments later, Marjorie stared at her reflection, smoothing the skirts of her green winter frock. She remained tense with shock from the events of yesterday; it would not do. She would straighten her face and keep calm, so that her father could work with confidence. 

Her hands were steady as she braided back her long brown hair. Using some cherished silver pins that Mama had given her for her fifteenth birthday, she secured the braid into a coil at the nape of her neck. There—I look like a young lady now.

Marjorie washed her face in the basin, then washed it again for good measure before drying it with a towel.

It’s time to look fresh and awake, she thought, striding to the door. Today will be my first lesson in magic. I cannot let any Fae or ghost frighten me.

*

She descended the stairs with resolve in her step—shoulders back, chin up. Unease continued to prickle in her mind, but she knew that this was to be the first day of her vocation. If she proved to be a good student, she could learn to make potions like Papa—and that would be her occupation for the rest of her life. She would be able to support herself and help her father with his work.

In the kitchen, Mama sat at the table. Her shoulders were slumped with exhaustion. Dark shadows under her eyes hinted that she hadn’t had much rest. 

She looked up as her daughter entered and managed a smile. “You slept in,” she said, though not in a scolding tone. “Have a seat. I’ll fix you a late breakfast.”

Marjorie did as she was told. She shivered; the winter-cold had also entered the kitchen, making it feel like January. Though she listened, she heard no sounds coming from her father’s study. She wondered if he had fallen asleep, in spite of his resolve not to.

Reading her thoughts, Mama said, “He is outside, spreading salt and other substances I can’t be bothered to recall the names of.” She sighed, slicing a block of cheese with her precise, steady hand. She placed it on a plate with some bread and mumbled, “The bread is rather dry, so you’ll have to dip it in your tea.”

“That’s fine,” Marjorie said, clasping her hands underneath the table to rub warmth into them. “Is he alright, though? Papa, I mean.”

“He…” Mama trailed off, setting the plate on the table. The tea-kettle began a soft whistle behind her. “He’s facing something he never thought he’d have to deal with before. Your presence might give him comfort.” This was added with reluctance. “He remembers that he promised you a lesson today, and he’s going to honor that promise, even if he’s a bit distracted.” 

Marjorie reached for a slice of cheese and broke some of it off, chewing thoughtfully. She thought about telling her mother about the light she had seen through the hedge, but Mama already worried about so much, and…

“Margo,” said Mama, again reading her thoughts, “you can, and should, tell us about anything that causes you unease. My guess is that you also witnessed the entourage of ghosts wandering our back-yard last night?”

“I—I saw a light,” she admitted, dropping the rest of her cheese. “Through the hedge, as if someone was holding a lantern and peering through the branches. I thought it might be a ghost at first, but Adam came to my room and told me that he saw more than one. Mama? Is it true? How many were there?”

Mama smiled uneasily. 

“Your father and I made a couple of friends last night,” she said, as the kettle’s whistle became more urgent. “They walked through the wall and were standing there—” She pointed to a corner of the kitchen, where there were no doors or windows—just a broom and crates of food-stuff. “They were just as confused as your father and I about the fact that they were here. It appears that the Elf has tampered with this land. Now all of the souls buried in this graveyard have been forced awake again, regardless of whether they wanted it.

“The couple was civil enough. It appears Mr. Shelley was an important man in life. As a ghost, he continues to hold great influence over the others. He offered to keep them under control, so that more would not enter our house.”

Marjorie swallowed. Difficult as her mother’s words were to believe, she had always suspected that ghosts could exist. They lived in a graveyard, for goodness’ sake! And had she not always planned to slip out one night to try and spot one? Now that all of the ghosts seemed to have come to them, she did not know how to respond.

“What if this isn’t sorted out?” she asked, watching Mama drop two cubes of sugar into her cup of tea.

Mama paused, shutting the tin of sugar-cubes and placing it on the table. She drew in a shaky breath and said, “If it isn’t sorted, Marjorie, then we have to leave. I won’t live in a house where the dead are roaming outside our window.” She shook her head, pursing her lips. “I don’t want to leave, though. I’m putting my faith in your father; surely he’ll find a solution that’ll save us from having to flee our own home.”

She then glanced at Marjorie, as if meaning to tell her something else, but seemed to decide at the last moment against it.

Deciding not to inquire about what was on Mama’s mind, Marjorie accepted the cup of tea. Her hands trembled. She did not want to leave the house, either, but if what Mama said was true, then they couldn’t live in a place haunted by so many spirits.

“What if I can help him?” she asked, her voice a rasp as the severity of Mama’s reply began to dawn on her.

A breathy laugh escaped her mother, but it was not a happy laugh.

“Talk to your father, dear,” was all that Mama managed, with a faltering smile. “He believes there is a way you might be able to help, after all.” Before Marjorie could pester her with questions, she added hastily: “Meet him in the kitchen garden, after you’re finished eating. He has some deliveries he needs to make in town; you might join him on the way there and discuss matters of—of magic.” 

Marjorie did not miss the way that Mama’s voice broke when she said magic. She did not know what to say to calm her mother, so she focused instead on eating breakfast, determined to find some way of being helpful to her father.

The grimoire had called her, after all; she had to be of some use, if magic pulsed through her veins.

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Author’s Note: If you’re enjoying The Graveyard House, you can support me as a writer by checking out my two published historical fantasy novels, The Sea Rose and The Sea King. They are part of a series that isn’t done yet. Book one is currently 99c; book two is $3.99. They are both available on KU! ($3.99 can buy me a cup of coffee, so I can continue sharing good stories and articles with you :) ) Thank you for your time and continued support!