The Tale of the Haunted Lane
- Emilia C. Aguilar
- 8 feb 2021
- 10 Min. de lectura
Most people had seen her at some point. Some felt their souls grow colder, others swore to have witnessed a dark figure at the end of the lane, standing, as if waiting for someone to venture into the castle’s grounds and lay a curse upon them.
The milkman and his son were doing their usual deliveries up the New Castle. It was the boy’s first time since he had been apprenticed, and he was happy: he got to see the children that lived in the manor afterward. That day he stayed with his father until it was all done, carefully learning the trade that would give him a future.
The new construction was close to Old Wardour Castle, that according to his friend Ella, was haunted. Yet the boy was not scared of the ruins, he was just wary of the rocky lane leading up to it. He had always assumed Ella was making fun of him when she talked: she was older and wiser. Little Tony, she said, beware of the spirits. They haunt the lane and the castle, and if they look at you, they will turn you into stone. She had made him believe that it was a matter of time before he saw them too.
After everything was done, Tony and his father rode their pony-trap homeward. They toured the paddocks again, enjoying the little sun Wiltshire had to offer in December. The lane led up to the unfamiliar, newly built road. Fencing ran along either side of it, and cows and sheep peered over it, uninterested as they fed off the grass. It was a solitary way but a beautiful one, the countryside was silent except for the sound of the wheels on the ground.
It was at the end of the lane where the boy saw her. A tall figure inside a dress made of red-tinted satins. Her brown hair was tied up, braided with pearls and rubies. She neither said a word nor made any movement. The boy froze, fearing the rage of the woman if he caught her eye. He had been warned, but her sight was more terrifying than he could have ever imagined. Father, he wanted to whisper, the ghost. Failing to see what was happening, bewildered by the boy’s refusal to walk on, the man grabbed his hand and dragged him along, forced to carry him like a dead weight. The boy screamed and cried, reluctant to cross paths with the ghost, but the father paid no attention to him: they had other jobs to do in the village, and no time to lose. The lady was left on the lane, regal and serious, alone again.
The boy would experience many sleepless nights and would return to the castle every day reluctantly. He would talk to his friends about the lady of the lane but would face disbelief instead of compassion.
While the boy struggled, Ella was happy trotting around the meadows, playing in the green vastness between Old Wardour Castle and the new one. Not many people could afford to live there, and Ella knew how lucky she was. After the milkman and Tony had departed, silence reigned over the countryside again. Only the echo of the boy’s screams reached her, as she distractedly fed apples to the sheep someone had brought back to the paddock.
Wardour was a magical place, and Ella thought it was a nice change from the grey, foggy streets of London. She had yet to get used to the silence, a sharp note ringing in her ears from years of stumbling carriages rushing through the streets of the city. There were thousands of stories about Wiltshire, but her favorites were the ones that focused on the castles. She had heard her mother talking about a war, and how the Old one had perished under the siege of a powerful army. Ella had read little about the Civil War, but she was a curious girl dying to know more about it. Her mother loved those kinds of tales, and she used to tell them about the secret passageways that linked both castles underground.
‘You know she’s lying.’ Liddy had said. At seventeen, she was well over the magical feel of childhood, reality had made its way to her heart.
‘Perhaps there are ways to enter the castle.’ answered Ella, not convinced about her sister’s words. ‘There’s that door that leads to the cellars. And the chapel’s sacristy has been closed and guarded meticulously. Mother says that’s where the Catholics hid during the Reformation.’
‘But that’s as far as these doors go.’ Liddy sipped her tea. ‘The cellars. The chapel.’
The possibility of finding a secret way to the abandoned castle had lived in Ella’s mind for a while. The cellars were certainly accessible, and the chapel was open for worship every day, which meant that she could easily find out if there was a passageway that led to a treasure. She wanted to unravel the secrets of the castle.
They had few servants, and none of them knew anything about the tunnels. She asked around until she heard of old Miss Oak, the woman who lived in the attic. They had granted her the wish of dying where she had served most of her life. She had lived in the castle since Jane Austen was barely a published author, and she was closer to a hundred than to ninety. Miss Oak was forced to bed rest, and it was no secret that she would be gone any day now. Ella knew she was the one who would know about the castles, and climbing up three sets of stairs, brought her tea on her own.
The woman that everyone thought ill and weak was reading inside her bed, trying to keep the cold from reaching her. When Ella opened the door, she expected to see a grandmother-like figure, but instead, she found a sleek, portentous woman. Ella also realized she was blind, her pale blue eyes looking in the distance as she talked.
‘Who’s there? It doesn’t sound like Theresa.’ she asked.
‘It’s Ella.’ the girl stepped into the chamber carrying the tea, that she poured into two cups.
‘What brings you here, darling?’ she was clever. Miss Oak had figured out before Ella could talk that she needed something, and would not leave without it.
‘I want to know about Old Wardour Castle. I want to know about the passageways. And I want to go there.’ said Ella, the truth spilling from her mouth before she could know it. She could not hide from the housekeeper.
‘It is a dangerous path and a more dangerous Castle.’ said Miss Oak, in an eerie voice.
‘I want to go to the castle. I want to find the war treasures.’ insisted Ella.
‘There are doors no one is meant to go through.’ she spoke. ‘Many have tried to recover the treasures of the Arundells, but there is something else that guards the castle. The Lady will take revenge on her enemies.’ she paused. ‘She died, just to return to the castle, just to seek justice from what they took from her. She cannot cross the threshold to her home because he haunts it ever since the War. Every night she murders him, yet every night he wins again. She will be alone until she is accompanied.’ Miss Oak let out a sigh. ‘Beware of the Lady.’
‘Who’s there with her?’ asked Ella. ‘Where are these doors?’
‘You are a feisty one, miss Ella.’ she said smiling, sipping from her cup. ‘I cannot answer your questions, and I certainly don’t want you to go into the Castle. Thank you for the tea.’
‘But Little Tony said that he had seen a ghost on the lane when they were going back from the castle.’ she said. ‘How come he can see her but I can’t?’
‘Be grateful for the small mercies, miss. You may go now.’ said the old woman, as she turned her back on Ella and went to sleep.
The girl exited the room determined to find the tunnels and visit the castle before the day was over.
Ella packed two sets of candles and a box of matches. She was ready for her adventure. It was the perfect time to wander around the hallways: everyone was resting after lunchtime, and the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. Liddy had gone down to the village, and the service was probably having their luncheon right at that moment. Ella ran around the castle, rubbing the torches, feeling the irregularity of the walls, moving the sculptures… yet she could not find the hidden passages.
When she opened the door to the cellar she almost fell down the narrow staircase. It was dark, but once she reached the bottom of the steps, she saw that there were endless bottles of wine, but no magic door. The dust made her sneeze, so she abandoned the place before it was too late to continue her search, disappointed.
Beware of the Lady, Miss Oak had said. Ella found herself entering the Chapel. It was beautiful, yet scary. She walked down the aisle, seeking the guidance of perhaps a greater being than herself. Ella had been there many times: for services, weddings, even baptisms. She knew every bench, every picture by heart. A faint light came through the stain-glass window above the altar, illuminating one of the oldest pieces: the sacristy mural of Lady Blanche, Baroness of Arundell. She had been a strong character, at least that was what her mother had said. She had lived in the Old Castle, and defended it against the Parliamentarians.
Ella presumed Lady Blanche was the ghost people saw down the lane: the noblewoman had made one last effort to reach the castle after she perished, and now she was bound to stay outside its walls forever. On the mural painted on the wooden doors she was outside, the Old Wardour Castle in the background. She looked ostentatious, her big skirt and sleeves making two-thirds of her figure. Lady Blanche was smirking at Ella, as if she was keeping the biggest secret of Wardour from her. Ella knew she was.
The girl had always thought that the mural was purely for decoration, but that time, she decided to feel the base of the wall, hardwood meeting her hand. Ella had always known it was strange for such an excellent piece to be on the floor: other pictures hung up on the walls, too important to lay on the ground. Ella reached for the sides and pulled. She realized it was not just a painting, it was part of the wall. There were sounds of a lock breaking, and a cloud of dust and cobwebs flew up to her nose along with a musty smell.
It had taken Ella fifteen years to discover what she wanted most: a way to the Old Castle, a place everyone was forbidden to access. She was facing a dark descending staircase.
Of course, tunnels go under the earth, she thought. She glanced behind her one last time and dove into the darkness.
The sound of the match against its box was the only thing Ella could hear: she was glad she brought the candles. The light was dim, but it was enough for the girl to find her way inside the labyrinth. The candle warned her whenever she was about to step on a dead rat or a murky puddle but, further than that, nothingness invaded the space in front of her. She mentally kept track of the paddocks she crossed: underneath the green grass and flowers only terror existed. The cold crept into Ella’s bones as she thought of what awaited her in the castle.
There was not much distance between both buildings, yet Ella felt she had walked for hours. When the moonlight peaked at the end of the tunnel, it gave her the hope she was missing: the ruins were close.
She did not know what had pushed her to act on a whim, but there was no going back. The obscure history of the Old Wardour Castle was within her reach, and she was ready to learn. A moldy piece of wood, once probably part of a door, gave in as soon as Ella touched it, the wind hitting her face as she came out of the damp cave.
What she saw took her breath away: most of the walls had fallen down, only three remained standing. Some reflected the moonlight through the holes where the stones had been, others lay on the ground: the ones that had fallen first during the war. The rooms had disappeared over time, and not a single piece of furniture had been left to admire inside. The castle had been burned and sieged, and the debris was tinted with a black ashy color. Ella knew then that all her mother had said was true.
Occupied on admiring the view, Ella ignored the shivers running down her back. Someone was standing behind her, vigilant of every move she made. She did not see the figure until it was approaching her at a frenetic speed. There was little time for her to react to what was running towards her: a man with a deadly white face, his face diffuse under the little light she could get. It was the ghost. The spirit that haunted the castle was not a woman, it was him. He opened his black mouth, letting out a cry that made Ella cover her ears, helplessly praying to a God that might be too busy to help her.
Just when she was about to give in to her fate a white hand stood in the way of the ghost. It was the Lady. Ella was out of her senses: two ghosts confronting each other in the castle, Liddy would never believe her. Her mother’s words came back to her:
The Lady and her children were the only ones left in the castle when they decided to charge. George Nightingale was the mind behind the attack, and it is said that he killed three of her daughters and two of her sons. Lady Blanche Arundell escaped, but she swore that in the next life she would take her revenge. Every night, if you pay attention, you can hear their screams while she kills him in the Afterlife, avenging the lives he took in the world of the living.
Lady Blanche knew her time had come and, protecting Ella with her embrace, she rose and advanced towards the man. His eyes were white, long deprived of the sight of the world, and he failed to see the Lady pulling a dagger out of her dress. She cut his neck where she had done it many times over. A shriek followed the action, and with a smile, she turned to Ella, leaving the bleeding man behind. The only thing she gave the girl was a thankful smile before disappearing again.
The girl knew something had changed that night: having a witness to her actions, the Lady felt she could be free again: her curse was broken. Ella had seen George die, and he would exist no more. Over the village, people started whispering that the ghost that had haunted the lane leading to the Old Wardour Castle had found her peace. Little Tony told Ella that he had seen her once more, this time inside the castle walls. Lady Arundell had finally found her way home.
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