CHAPTER XVII
DAME ELEANOR'S GHOST
'What see you there That hath so cowarded and chased your blood Out of appearance?'
The weather, which had been beautifully fine and mild for the time ofyear during October and the first half of November, kept up for Peggy'sbirthday on the twenty-first. By good luck that important occasion fellon a Saturday, so there was no tiresome school to interfere with thefestivities. As the Vaughan family was more rich in goodwill than incoin of the realm, the presents were mostly of a kind which I am afraideither Maud Middleton or Phyllis and Marjorie Norton would have scorned,but to Peggy they gave the utmost satisfaction. There was themuch-longed-for guinea-pig from Father, which had been smuggled up in ahamper, and kept with elaborate care in a remote portion of the barn (asecret which Bobby found the utmost difficulty in preserving); anightdress case worked by Lilian's neat fingers; a cork frame fromBobby, made under Archie's supervision; a round pink-and-white wool mat,which Nancy had crocheted at odd times during the evenings; and a littlemug from Joe, with a Welshwoman in a tall hat on one side, and 'Apresent from Llandrindod' on the other, bought on a visit to the famouswells which he had paid in company with the church choir. Archie came upduring the morning bearing a pretty writing-case, an offering fromhimself and Miss Forster, while a parcel had arrived from India,containing the loveliest carved sandal-wood box, inlaid withmother-of-pearl, to show that Aunt Helen had not forgotten her littleniece.
As the birthday was not so very long after the fifth of November, theyhad decided to keep any Guy Fawkes celebrations until then, and had beenbusy for some days collecting sticks for a bonfire. The party consistedsolely of themselves and Archie, for Father's suggestion of the fiveMiss Davenports was received with howls of indignation; and Lilian andNancy's combined efforts had produced a cake with twelve tiny colouredwax candles stuck into icing-sugar on the top, one for every year ofPeggy's life, and which had to be blown out in turns by the assembledcompany for good luck.
The bonfire was held in the stubble field beyond the stackyard, androared up like a fiery furnace, making quite a red glow in the sky,while its red ashes roasted potatoes and chestnuts to a turn. Archie hadeven contrived to manufacture a few fireworks, having shut himself up ina room over the stables at the Willows, a combination of peculiar odoursand a singed eyebrow alone testifying to his occupation. To be sure, thecatherine-wheel stuck, and utterly refused to turn, in spite of allpokings and proddings, and the rockets only fizzled off near the ground,instead of shooting up as they ought to have done; but the squibs andcrackers were quite effective, and a train of gunpowder, laid down torepresent a fiery serpent, blazed away in fine style. The fire-balloon,however, was the success of the evening, for it shot straight up, andfloated across the sky like a beautiful meteor, its pink and green sidesgiving a charming effect, till at length it dwindled away and became amere speck in the distance, leaving the children more full of admirationthan ever for Archie's talents.
After the birthday the weather broke and a foretaste of winter arrived,with cold winds and gray, murky skies and occasional falls of snow.Archie caught a severe chill hunting for microscopical specimens in thepond, and was in bed for some weeks, nursed by his doting aunt,consoling himself for his enforced idleness by planning suchimprovements at both the Willows and the Abbey as were calculated tomake their owners' hair stand on end.
As the long evenings closed in, Joe, ever timorous with regard to thesupernatural, became the prey of superstitious fears. He saw shrouds inthe candle and corpse-lights in the churchyard. Rollo's howling filledhim with forebodings, and a screech-owl flying over the orchard sent himinto a panic. He heard ghostly footfalls among the ruins and mysterioustaps on the stable-window when he was suppering the horses, which, inspite of Lilian's reassurances, he persisted in regarding as a warning,though for which of his numerous relatives it was intended kept him in astate of perpetual doubt and uneasiness. The worst of it was that heinfected Nancy with his alarms to such an extent that she could scarcelybe persuaded to put her nose out at the back-door after dusk (except onher evening out, when her sweetheart came to fetch her), which wasdistinctly inconvenient if a pail of water were wanted during theevening, or she happened to have left the coal-box standing in the yard.The Abbey boasted the reputation of maintaining what Peggy called 'areal, live, genuine ghost,' though none of the family had ever caught aglimpse of it, it seeming to prefer to manifest itself to Joe and tochance visitors from the village who came up to the house on darkevenings. The washerwoman's little girl had heard footsteps behind heron the drive and a distinct clanking as of chains, while old BettyCarson swore on her Bible oath that she had seen something white movingabout among the ruins, which groaned as in the expression of the keenestmental anguish; and when Mr. Vaughan suggested it might prove nothingworse than a young bullock with indigestion, she had dismissed the ideaas almost profane.
Beyond the fact that a lady in white was supposed to haunt both theruins and the oak-wood, weeping and wringing her hands in orthodoxghostly fashion, the children had not been able to learn much of thestory, for there were so many and divergent accounts of it, all toldwith uncertainty as to names and dates, and in that very oracular--notto say muddled--style sometimes indulged in by rustic historians. Butone wet afternoon, finding David alone in the harness-room, where theold man had lighted a fire to make some wonderful decoction of foxgloveswherewith to doctor a cow with a strained leg, they seated themselves ona sack of potatoes in front of the cheerful blaze, and with the aid of alittle judicious flattery and coaxing managed to cajole him into a trueand circumstantial account of the family ghost.
Although he was somewhat crusty to begin with, old David, like all whohave the gift of narrative, enjoyed telling a story, and he soon warmedto his work.
'It were my father as told me,' he began, 'and he had it from hisfather, and his'n afore him, for it be a powerful long time ago, it be.Ay, time do pass by quick, for sure!'
'When did it happen?' asked Peggy, hastily, hoping to nip in the bud oneof the old fellow's, rambling divergences from the point.
'In the reign of King Henry the Sixth, so they say. Ay, it were Henry,for it were the same name, I mind me, as the old Squire.'
'Reigned 1422 to 1461, married Margaret of Anjou,' put in Bobby, wholiked to air his knowledge.
'I don't know who he married; it weren't nothing to do with marryin'. Itwere fightin' first in those days, though I suppose they married, too,like other folk, when they found time.'
'Who were fighting?' inquired Bobby.
'Why, it was the Wars of the Roses, of course,' answered Peggycrushingly.
'Nay, it weren't no wars of roses, I can tell you. It was real bloodybattles they fought then, with swords and pikes and spears and the like;for there was two Kings, both with a notion of reignin', and when Kingsfalls out, it's their subjects has to do the fightin' for them, I takesit.'
'Henry VI. and Edward IV.,' put in Peggy. 'Please go on, David.'
'There was Vaughans at the Abbey then, just as there is Vaughans at theAbbey now,' continued the old man, staring meditatively into hisfoxglove brew, as though he could see a mental picture in the pot. 'Andhim as had it then was Sir Richard Vaughan, the one as lies under thecracked old monument in the corner at church.'
'With the dragon and the crooked arrows on it,' nodded the children.
'Well, this Sir Richard Vaughan, he favoured King Henry of Lancaster,and went out to fight for him with forty gentlemen and yeomen at hisback, to say naught of lesser folk. They met Duke Edward of York, him asafterwards became King, at Mortimer's Cross, which ain't so far fromhere, neither, for I went once myself when I were a lad with my aunt'scousin, who drove a good horse and gig. Let me see: how many years willit be agone?'
'Oh, David, never mind! _Do_ go on with the story! What happened at thebattle?'
'He were killed, for sure, were Sir Richard, and his head took by theyYorkists, and kicked about like a football afore they na
iled it up overHereford gate. You'd ne'er find his skull if you looked inside the oldmonument--naught but the rest of his bones.'
'How awful! Then is it _his_ ghost?'
'Oh no, Bobby! It is the White _Lady_, you know!'
David took advantage of these interruptions to lift his pot from thefire and examine its contents, but finding them not yet to his liking,put it on again, and continued:
'It weren't enough for they Yorkists to get Sir Richard's head; theywanted his lands along of it, and they marched across country (a set ofblood-thirsty ruffians they was) and laid siege to the Abbey. DameEleanor, a widow new-made, as you might say, couldn't hold it above twodays, for the pick of the men had all gone with her husband, and thebest part of _they_ lay stretched out stiff at Mortimer's Cross. So shelets them in at last, sore agin her will, and gives up the keys to LordGrey of Wigmore. You'd a' thought that would a' satisfied them, but theywanted more.'
'What did they want?' said Peggy, for David seemed disposed to rest fromhis labours and attend to his cookery.
'Sir Richard had left a son behind him, a young lad of nine or ten orthereabouts, and he were the heir. It were him as Lord Grey wanted--tolda fine tale as how he'd take him up to London, and get him put as pageto the great Earl of Warwick, which were as good as makin' his fortune.'
'Did he go?'
'Nay, his mother were no fool, neither, and she knowed full well she'dne'er see him again, no more than you'd see a duck if you gave it incharge of the fox. She'd sent him away safe out of the Abbey by thatpassage to the cave, most like, where you very near lost your lives lastsummer, and she weren't going to let on where he were, not to no one.'
'Did she tell? Did he get off safe? What happened?'
'Let me tell my tale in my own way,' said David testily. 'They wasbrutes in those days, and had no respect for God or man, let alonewoman. So they clapped a thumbscrew on Dame Eleanor, to sharpen herwits.'
'Oh, poor thing! She didn't tell, did she?' cried the children, whocould not forbear comments.
'Tell! Not she, though her thumb was crushed to a jelly. And when theysee'd it weren't no manner of use, they let her go. But that Lord Greyof Wigmore was a disciple of Old Nick himself, and what does he do butcatch hold of Dame Eleanor's daughter, which weren't more' an a littlemaid like Miss Peggy there, and put the screw on her thumb, thinkin' itwould loosen her mother's tongue to hear her shriek. There's things thatwomen can bear up to a certain pass, but touch their young uns, andthey'll let you know. At the first cry as was raised by that child DameEleanor went clean off her head, and, breakin' away from them as heldher, she seized up a dagger and stabbed herself through the breast, witha awful shout of laughter, shuttin' her lips for ever from them as wouldwrest the secret from her.'
'And what became of the poor little boy and girl?'
'Lord Grey felt a bit 'shamed, like, when he see'd what were done, andhe sent the girl home to his wife, who brought her up kind. And the boyhad been took away by that time to them as was his friends. He grew upto manhood and learned to fight, like everyone else in they times, andthen King Henry came to his own again, and he got back the Abbey.'
'But King Henry didn't stay long on the throne, did he? I thought thehistory-book said that "King Edward landed at Ravenspur and fought theBattle of Barnet." We learnt it in our dates last Monday.'
'I know naught of books. It's what my father told me, and his fatherafore him. There have been a many Kings since then, I reckon, but theVaughans have held the Abbey in spite of 'em.'
'But, David, you haven't told us about the ghost yet, and that's themost important part of all.'
'The ghost! Oh, that be Dame Eleanor, for sure. They say she walks roundthe ruins of the Abbey and across to the oak-wood. Whiles she goes away,and no one sees her for long enough, and whiles she comes back; and theydo say,' said David, lowering his voice, 'that if there's a death in thefamily, or any evil hangin' over the Vaughans, that she be thereshriekin' and wringin' her hands to give warnin' of what be to come.'
The children were beginning to feel quite delightfully creepy, and wouldhave liked a further continuation of the spirit portion of the story;but David's decoction being now ready, his thoughts were with hisinvalid in the cow-house, and nothing could bring them back to DameEleanor's wraith. So, in spite of all entreaties for more, he departed,bearing his steaming can with him, and declaring that one good cow wasworth all the ghosts and ghostesses in the kingdom, 'for you might dosome good to _she_, but as to _they_, they was naught but hearsay, afterall.'
After this, Peggy and Bobby were determined to try and obtain a sight oftheir ancestress, and with much screwing up of their courage stole outone evening, and crept fearfully round the ruins, clutching each other'shands very tightly, and jumping at every sound. There was a fitful moon,and it was just light enough to see the outlines of the old walls andthe pieces of broken stair and column, with very dark places between,where the shadows fell. It was an ideal spot for a ghost. It reallyseemed as if these old relics of bygone days _must_ be haunted, sostrong were the cords which bound them to the past. A cloud had comeover the moon, and as they groped their way round the corner of what hadbeen the refectory, Peggy caught Bobby's arm.
'Listen!' she said in a thrilling whisper.
The children clung together tighter than ever and held their breath, forthere certainly was the most extraordinary noise to be heard--a kind ofmixture between groaning and sighing, with a rattling sound as ofdragging chains. It seemed coming in their direction, too, and theyshrank into a niche in the wall, with their hair almost standing on end.Something gleamed white in the faint moonlight, and a terrific soundsuddenly boomed in their ears. Frightened almost out of their wits, thechildren shrieked and ran, but stopped before they had gone twentyyards, for the noise had developed into a very decided 'Hee-haw!' andthe moon, bursting through the clouds, revealed the long nose andtwirling ears of the tinker's broken-winded old donkey, who, dragging aclog on his leg, was giving vent to his feelings in his own peculiarfashion, his master having turned him into the ruins for a stolen feedduring the night, no doubt with the intention of fetching him in themorning before anyone was up and about. It was such bathos after theoverwrought state of their feelings that they sat down and laughed tillthe tears ran down their cheeks, treasuring the joke to tell to Archiewhen he should be well enough to receive visitors, and holding it up asa model to relieve Nancy's fears.
But seeing how easy it was to imagine a ghost out of really every-daymaterials, the children plotted mischief next Saturday, and determinedto give Joe a fright. About half a mile from the house lay the oak-wood,which was also the supposed scene of Dame Eleanor's walk. Through thiswood ran a road, which was the shortest way to Middlehead, a littlemarket-town in the opposite direction to Warford. Knowing that Joe hadgone for a holiday, with some other lads from the village, to a fairwhich was being held that day at Middlehead, they decided to construct aghost and fix it up in the wood, to alarm him and his companions as theyreturned. They kept their secret to themselves, and retired to the barnto fashion a figure of Dame Eleanor according to their own notions ofwhat a phantom should be. Taking a large turnip, they scooped out theinside till there was nothing left but a hollow shell, cutting holes init for eyes, nose, and mouth, and fixing a candle inside, so that whenthe light shone through it should resemble a horrible, grinning face. Atdusk they stole away with the rest of their materials to the oak-wood,and set to work. The spot chosen was a grassy corner, where a gateacross the road formed an angle with the wall which bounded the woodupon one side. It was a specially dark and shady place, for the talltrees shut out the sky, and even in the daytime it looked gloomy andstill. They first planted a stout broomstick in the ground, and fixedthe turnip head firmly upon the top of it; two branches of trees tied onlike cross-bars made a pair of shoulders and arms, and when covered witha sheet stolen from the linen-cupboard, it appeared as if the whitefigure were stretching out its imploring hands in a vain appeal formercy. When Peggy lighted the
candle inside the effect was so terrificthat the conspirators felt quite eerie themselves, and with a last lookto see that all was steady, and the candle not likely to fall over, theyleft Dame Eleanor in her corner, and fled home over the fields with arather guilty feeling, wondering what would happen.
To do Peggy justice, I do not think she would have tried to play such atrick on poor Joe if she had imagined he were returning alone; butknowing he would have the company of several of his friends to supporthim, she thought he might rather enjoy the joke than otherwise.
The dusk soon fell, and Peggy sat by the fire in the Rose Parlourreading 'Ivanhoe' in much warmth and content. Lilian was playingsnatches of her favourite Chopin, but somehow the music did not go wellto-night, for the musician's heart was not in her fingers.
'What's the matter, Lilian?' asked Peggy, tearing herself away fromFriar Tuck and the Black Knight to realize that her sister had got upfor the fifth time from the piano to peep out through the window intothe dark beyond.
'I wish Father would come home, that's all. I always feel so uneasy whenhe goes to Middlewood'--pacing restlessly round the room, and lookingagain at the clock.
'Why?'
'Because he drives home through the oak-wood, and it's really sodangerous. There's no fence on the side next to the river, and Prince isso frisky, if he were to shy there by the wall nothing could save themfrom going straight down the bank. I've often begged Father to have itrailed in, but he only laughs at me. Why, Peggy, where are you going?'
For without a word of explanation Peggy had flung down her book and fledfrom the room. Hatless, and in her thin house-shoes, she rushed out ofthe house, and tore over the fields as fast as her shaking legs couldcarry her. In her plan to give Joe a fright, she had never thought ofFather, who returned by the same road; and now that horrible whiteobject was stationed just in the very danger-spot where a plunging horsemight mean a matter of almost certain death, for the wall of thefive-acre field abutted the road on one side, and on the other there wasonly a narrow patch of grass between the steep bank which shelved downsheer into the river, while the closed gate stopped any chance of a dashforward. Peggy's heart was beating like a sledge-hammer as she flewthrough the wood. Already she heard a distant rumbling of wheels, andputting on a last desperate spurt, she reached the gate. She could neverafterwards tell exactly what happened at that moment, except that thegig-lamps flashed suddenly in her eyes, 'Whoa, my lad!' shouted Father'svoice, and Prince's rearing, kicking form loomed large before her as hebacked persistently towards the bank. It took Peggy just one instant toopen the gate, and catching up her ghost to hurl the whole wretchedthing over the wall, and in another she had seized the horse by therein, and, soothing him with her well-known voice, dragged him forwardwith all the strength of her wiry little arms. She was barely in time,for already one wheel was over the edge, but, the object of his fearbeing removed, Prince allowed himself to be cajoled into the road again,where he stood, panting and trembling in every limb.
'Why, my little Peggy!' cried Father, leaning down to see where thelamp-light flashed on the face of his rescuer.
But the strain was too much for Peggy, and she plumped down on the deadleaves by the roadside in such a tempest of tears that Father had toclimb out of the gig and pick her up to comfort her; but as he could notget a word of sense, he popped her in the vacant place by his side anddrove on, while she clung to his arm, still shaking with sobs, till theyreached the Abbey, where he helped her down, such a miserable littletear-stained picture of woe, gulping out the confession of her escapade,that he had not the heart to scold her, though he had a word of warningto say afterwards upon the danger of such heedless practical jokes.
Dame Eleanor's remains were fished out of the corner of the five-acrefield on Monday morning by Joe himself, who kicked her turnip head asruthlessly as the Yorkists had used her husband's at Mortimer's Cross,and brought back the broomstick to the stable and the sheet to Nancy'swash-tub. In all the valour of daylight he assured the children that 'itwouldn't have scared _he_, not it. He'd made a many o' they turniplanterns in his time, and knowed 'em too well to be took in so easy.'
But his faith in the genuine phantom remained unshaken all the same, andI do not think he would have ventured alone into the ruins after darkfor the amount of his weekly wages, and money meant a good deal to poorhard-working Joe.