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The Sad Ghost by Michael J P McManus
Tuesday, February 2, 2021
Rated "PG" by the Author.
Four friends stay at their friends house, only for one to witness a female ghost.
The Sad Ghost
[Based loosely on a dream I had in January 2021]
In life Elizabeth Grouse was a well-liked woman, she had everything she wanted in life, a husband that she loved and, a grand house in which they both lived. They were committed to each other, or so Elizabeth thought. Because when her husband, Neville died, she found that in his will, her husband had left everything to someone called Amelia Cartwright. Who was this woman? She had never heard mention of this woman before, and upon inquiring, she found that none had heard of this mysterious woman either.
Elizabeth hired a private detective to find out the whereabouts of this Miss Cartwright, and when he reported back to her that he had found that the name was a pseudonym for a man called Roger Blackwell. It appeared that, according to the private detective that Mr Grouse and Mr Blackwell were more than just friends. Elizabeth, as to be expected in her time of grief was, as they say, devastated. Not only was her husband carrying on with a man, but he had also left everything to this Blackwell fellow. Elizabeth appealed to the courts, but could not get the will overturned and eventually it happened. Elizabeth in a fit of madness flung herself from the second floor landing to the ground floor ending her once happy life.
Mr Roger Blackwell, now a rich man and living in the grand house left him by his deceased lover whiled away the hours hosting party after party for all his ‘strange’ friends, as people of the town would label them. But it was with relish and joy that Blackwell continued to ignore the slanderous remarks made about him and his ‘strange’ friends by the townsfolk. Never one to back down from anything, Blackwell ignored comments by his friends that his home might be haunted saying that they felt unwelcome in certain parts of the house. He laughed at their weaknesses and bid four of them to spend the night in rooms on the second floor. Never ones to be made to feel weak, the men accepted Blackwell’s offer of comfortable beds and as much drink as they wanted.
The old grandfather clock in the hallway struck the hour of twelve as all five men were retiring to their bed chambers. Each of them taking a bottle of brandy to ‘help them sleep’ as they would say. Phillip Davidson was preparing for his bed when he thought he heard someone walking along the hallway outside his room. Upon opening the large oak door he stuck his head out and peered into the near darkness but could not see anyone, but, he could smell what appeared to be a lady’s perfume. Tiptoeing out into the hallway Davidson made his way to the hallway leading to the stairs; he could still smell the sweet aroma of the perfume and continued to follow it. Upon getting to the stairs he thought he could just make out a figure looking over the banister rail. The figure seemed to be that of a lady, but she appeared to be shimmering. Then with a flourish, the shimmering figure went over the banister rail and in his head Davidson could hear a scream and then silence. Running to the banister he looked down and saw a figure on the floor below. Taking up a candle from the wall sconce he rushed down the stairs to the ground floor to where he saw the crumpled figure laying, only to find no one laying there dead. Davidson trembled with fear and held the candle aloft to see if he was in the right area. No figure to be seen lying dead on the floor. With a shudder, Davidson made his way back up the two flights of stairs to his room and upon locking the bedroom door poured himself a very large brandy.
The following morning Blackwell had his cook prepare breakfast for himself and his guests and awaited their appearance. Tompkins, Bart and Higgins appeared and seated themselves and chatted to their host. “But where is Davidson?” Tompkins enquired, “He’s never late for a good breakfast.” Blackwell shrugged his shoulders and announced that he would be here soon, no doubt. Ten minutes later the door opened and Davidson stepped into the breakfast room.
“By jingo Davidson, you look like you’ve been up all night. Are you quite yourself old chap?” Blackwell asked in rather too jovial a voice.
“I take it you know about the fright you put me through last night Roger. If so I didn’t find it a bit funny at all.” Davidson replied as he sat down to breakfast.
“I don’t know what you referring to old chap, I slept like a log as did these gentlemen.”
“Yes a couple of large brandies got me off nicely.” Bart replied in between eating a Cumberland sausage.
“So you say you have no idea what I’m referring to Roger?” Blackwell shook his head in response as his mouth was full of toast. “I heard somebody walking past my room last night, and upon following I could smell perfume in the air. I then saw a woman standing in front of the banister rail upon which, she threw herself over, screaming as she did so, to crash upon the ground floor.”
“Come now Phillip, you must have been dreaming it, surely we would have been awoken by the scream if what you say is true .” Bart replied in between sips of his tea.
“Higgins, did you hear anyone walking past your room, or screaming in the night?” Blackwell asked in companion, who had been quietly eating his breakfast.
“No I must admit that I didn’t hear anything. I’m sorry Phillip, but surely it was some kind of nightmare you had.” Higgins said looking at Davidson.
“Well gentlemen I know for a fact that I was awake when I saw what appeared to be a woman and I could clearly smell her perfume. I have been awake all night and have not slept a wink.” Getting up from the table without eating any breakfast, Davidson bid his friends farewell. “I shall not stay in this haunted house any longer, good bye gentlemen!”
That evening as Blackwell and his friends sat around a table playing cards and drinking the talk invariably turned to what Davidson thought he saw the previous night. “It’s all poppycock gentlemen, poor old Davidson must have drank too much brandy and then dreamt about the supposed ghost, that the muddlers around here go on about.” Blackwell interposed as he dealt a new hand.
“Maybe we should sit up through the night in our rooms and if one of us hears anything we can let the others know. Then we will see for ourselves if Davidson was telling the truth about what he saw.” Bart suggested as he looked at his cards.
“Gentlemen, I think that is a splendid idea. We can play cards all night until the hour of midnight or just sit in my study with cigars and brandy.”
The four men agreed and after a few hours of card playing ventured into Blackwell’s study to sit on wingback leather upholstered chairs, smoking cigars and drinking brandy in front of the roaring fire. The four friends were sitting quietly all deep in their own thoughts when they heard a door slamming loudly from above. “Great Scott, what is heavens name was that!” All four men stood up and raced for the door of the study, and reached the bottom of the grand staircase. They stood rooted to the spot waiting for something to appear, but nought came and they once again made their way to the study. “Just the wind blowing a door shut I suppose.” Bart announced as he looked nervously towards the ceiling.
“Yes the maid leaves a bedroom window open to air the rooms,” Blackwell said, “you could be right about that Bart. The night wore on and the four friends decided that it would be best to turn in as the hour was approaching midnight. Each went to their rooms, and noticed that no windows in their rooms had been left open.
Higgins lay atop the bed covers and listened intently. Always a quiet man, Higgins was unlike his friends, they were more boisterous in their ways. Higgins was a thinker and a reader. He was an avid reader of M.R. James and had always envisaged staying in a haunted house. He wanted to find out the truth as to whether Blackwell’s house was haunted by a woman, but more importantly who she was. Knowing that he would be returning home tomorrow he would visit the library to look up the house that was once called Grouse Manor.
The following morning, which was a Sunday, the four friends sat around the breakfast table to eat their final breakfast at their friend’s home before departing for their own homes. “Well I didn’t hear a thing last night. Did anyone else succumb to the ghastly scream or sighting of a sad ghost?” Roger Bakewell asked of his friends. All agreed, except Higgins, who seemed to have something on his mind, that it was a quiet night and that they all succumbed to one thing, Sleep! After breakfast the four friends sat once more in the study for a final cigar and brandy and then one by one made their way home. Roger Blackwell dined at his club and spent a couple of hours chatting with Sir Hugh Mortimer over cigars and brandy. It was fast approaching thirty minutes past eleven at night as Blackwell bid Sir Hugh farewell and caught a Hansom cab home.
*****
Jack Higgins had kept quiet about what he had witnessed the night before, the ‘Sad Ghost’ and upon arriving home asked his valet to unpack his suitcase and find him suitable attire for the day. After dressing and eating a light lunch, Higgins made his way to the library. In the reference section he looked for books relating to Manor houses in the area. The book he found, which was titled, A Scrutiny of Manor Houses and Mansions of Cheshire gave him some information regarding the manor. It did not, however, give him the details that he really needed. Who was the woman that apparently committed suicide in the house?
Higgins decided to enquire about Grouse Manor at the Births, Deaths and Marriages department. He needed to find out who lived and died there before Blackwell did and he was determined to have an answer before he left for home.
Henry Farthing had been employed as the registrar of the Births, Deaths and Marriages department for thirty years and could find the name and details of a person quickly. “Ah yes Mr, eh, what was your surname again?” Higgins smiled and repeated his name. “Well then Mr Higgins, I can tell you that the previous owners of the house in which you are enquiring about were a Mr and Mrs Neville Grouse. Mr Grouse apparently died suddenly of a heart attack and was then followed by his wife to the grave about a month later.”
“Could you tell me how Mrs Grouse died, it is very important that I find out how she died.” Higgins asked.
“I can indeed Mr Higgins. Mrs Elizabeth Grouse committed suicide by throwing herself from the second floor of the house.” Farthing replied, “are you feeling alright sir, as you seem to have paled somewhat?”
“Yes I’m not feeling as I should sir, if you will excuse me, I need to make further enquiries. You have been most helpful in my quest.” Jack Higgins stood up and donned his hat and bid farewell to the registrar.
Higgins decided that he needed to partake in a large brandy and ventured to his club for an hour. Whilst there he struck up a conversation with Sir Hugh Mortimer and happened to mention the manor. “Ah yes, old Blackwell was lucky inheriting such a fine house and everything in it.” Sir Hugh mentioned as he puffed oh his Cuban cigar.
Higgins looked at Sir Hugh in astonishment, “What do you mean, he inherited everything. Surely his wife would have been in line for the manor and her husband’s wealth?”
“My dear boy, did you happen to know Mr Neville Grouse? No, well let me tell you all about Mr Neville Grouse and his ‘strange’ friends.” Sir Hugh told Higgins the story of Neville Grouse and his close friends, ending with, “You’re not one of his close friends are you Mr Higgins?”
“Good heavens no Sir Hugh, my feelings are most certainly towards women and I am engaged to be married to the most beautiful woman in town. I wonder if both Davidson and I saw her because of that reason, as Davenport is to be married to Melanie Brighthouse, he thought. I can’t believe that Roger has led us all a merry dance by saying he just happened upon the house and bought it.”
“Why then do you think Elizabeth Grouse flung herself from the second floor of the house to die a broken woman? She never knew her husband’s secret and when she found out she knew she had lost everything and could not go on with her life.” Sir Hugh responded and then asked the waiter for two more large brandies.
“I saw her Sir Hugh. I saw Elizabeth last night in that very house. I heard her footfalls in the passageway and smelt her perfume. I then saw her leap to her death.” Higgins hand trembled as he lifted the brandy glass to his mouth. “I saw her ghost Sir Hugh, a very sad ghost indeed, as did my friend Davidson.”
*****
Roger Blackwell had never indulged his friends into just how he came to own Grouse Manor, now renamed Blackwell Manor. He informed them that he happened upon it and noticing it empty informed concerned parties that he would like to acquire it as he had the money to do so. Now back at home and sitting in his study he quaffed on his brandy before retiring to his bed chamber.
As he lay down in his bed Blackwell thought that he could hear soft footfalls along the passageway outside his bed chamber. Rising he donned his slippers and house coat and slid open the drawer in his nightstand. Retrieving a small handgun he walked quietly to the door and inched it open. At first glance he could not see anything as the glare of the candle in his room was throwing the passageway into shadow. He continued to hear the footfalls and could also smell a slight odour of what appeared to his senses to be perfume. Stepping quietly into the passageway he made his way towards the landing, a candle, its tallow burning low barely lit up the landing leading off the stairs, and to his horror he saw the shimmering figure of a woman near the banister.
Blackwell recoiled in terror as the spirit turned towards him, with her arm outstretched and pointing at Blackwell she let out a scream. Stunned by the vision of the ghost, Blackwell stumbled backwards and plunged headfirst down the two flights of stairs. His body lay still, his face a mask of terror, his life blood coursing out of his broken body. The sad ghost looked down upon the broken body and a smile came to her lips. She was free to move over towards a higher place.
Higgins, Bart, Tompkins and Davidson all attended the funeral of Roger Blackwell, as did Sir Hugh Mortimer and a number of Blackwell’s ‘strange’ friends as they were known in the town. Incidentally, neither of Blackwell’s friends who attended his house that weekend were part of his close friends club. They were well respected men in the community and Higgins married the love of his life. Needless to say, Davidson enquired of his friends if they had encountered the sad ghost during their second night’s stay there. They informed him that all had fallen asleep without encountering the said sad ghost.
The four friends could not believe that Blackwell had duped them into thinking that he had bought the house, and that by rights Neville Grouse should had left everything to his wife. Blackwell should have demanded that Elizabeth Grouse was left everything. But Blackwell being who he was never gave it a moment’s thought and Elizabeth quite rightly got her revenge.
Higgins and Davidson, both saw the sad face of Elizabeth Grouse appear to them once again. It was while they were taking a stroll along the pier and upon stopping to take in the sea air they both claimed that they saw the face of Elizabeth in a cloud looking down at them. She had a serene smile on her face and looked at peace with herself.
The Sad Ghost
