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“Oh, no! Did nobody warn you?” she gasped.
“No, they let poor Mariah blindly buy it. And now that damn Anderson boy is harassing her!” Prudence said with a glower.
“That’s even worse. Here, take your corner, and I will have Anita bring teas and your usual. Give me two minutes, and I’ll join you,” Rose-Marie murmured as she steered them towards a comfy booth at the back of the shop.
Mariah followed, bemused, as her stomach growled. No matter what the locals believed, the cafe smelt amazing. The smell of freshly cooked bread and cakes lingered in the air, and she was hungrier than she realised.
Rose-Marie brought a tray of mugs and settled in next to her grandmother.
“Where to start?” Prudence mused as she cupped her mug.
“Try from the beginning,” Rose-Marie said.
“Okay, so the year was 1715. The villages had been plagued by a spate of missing children. The authorities were pointless in those days, and none were found alive. Most of the local nobles were rather useless, but there were six, a family who owned inns around here. They were called for in 1716 after a child who’d disappeared wandered into a village, thin and starving and muttering about a witch. The family was the Nortons, and the eldest brother was named Lucian Norton. Twins followed Lucian, Elias and his brother Isaac, who were a year younger,” Prudence said and took a sip of tea.
“Then Benedict was born, two years younger than them. And finally, Kit and his twin Cecilia were born four years after Benedict. The family was famous in the area, as they were the highest-ranking nobles and prominent landowners. So when the locals needed help, it was the Nortons they reached out to. They were high in the aristocracy. The story goes they rode out from London immediately, even Lady Cecilia. Lord Lucian Norton was the Earl of Castleton, and his next oldest sibling, Lord Elias Norton, the Viscount Forthingay. The rest of the brothers were known as gentlemen, apart from Lady Cecilia,” Hilary explained.
Mariah nodded; she understood how the British aristocracy worked.
“So, this is where the mystery deepens. All six siblings owned an inn. That terrible evening, they rode from London, travelling through the day to reach the local villages under attack. It is claimed they split from one another, and each raced to their own inns. Even the Lady Cecilia. Nobody knows why. But that night, the Nortons vanished. We know Benedict Norton made his way to the Black Cat. Benedict was seen entering, and the sounds of a fight were heard. The following morning the villagers entered and discovered huge amounts of blood but no body. Benedict had completely disappeared,” Edith hissed.
Mariah nodded, a little shiver running down her spine at the thought of a crime in her beautiful inn. But she rationalised that with inns as old as hers, there had to have been some random murders.
“And it was the next night the haunting started. Howls and shrieks came from inside. The innkeeper fled with any staff. This went on for months until, one evening, everything fell silent. The local blacksmith, a brave man, took it upon himself to head up the lane, where he was confronted by the ghost of Benedict Norton himself. He stood at the entrance of the Black Cat. He claimed Benedict roared at him, and the fellow ran,” Hilary said.
“The words Benedict shouted were never forgotten, ‘Begone!’ he cried. ‘A great evil lives here. Never disturb its slumber!’, and then the blacksmith was chased away. The villagers accused the blacksmith of being drunk. But the next night, several investigated and returned shocked and scared. Benedict was there again and repeated his words. Not one to handle hauntings, the village called a local priest. It was reported that Benedict appeared to him. They exchanged comments, and Benedict beseeched the priest to lay down a godly barrier to help him stop the evil from escaping,” Edith explained.
“Everyone knew to avoid the Black Cat. And we did, as adults. Of course, as children and teenagers, we’ve no awareness of danger. And many dared each other to see if the ghost existed. Needless to say, it does,” Rose-Marie said.
“You’ve seen him?” Mariah asked, turning to her.
“Oh yes, and he was a frightening sight.” Rose-Marie swapped glances, and Mariah realised they were holding something back. She decided to out-wait them.
“The thing is, no one local other than us knows Benedict’s story. Same as nobody knows Lucians or the others who disappeared. Yet they vanished from history. There’s no record of them apart from our memories.”
Mariah sat up.
“Is that possible?”
“Yes. They existed. The villagers and town know they did. But there is no written document of their lineage. Even their two titles aren’t recorded anywhere. Their home, Wollscombe Hall, also disappeared. The entire family was wiped from the face of the earth. It’s a puzzle none of us can resolve. We know they lived; we’ve seen Benedict’s ghost, but why they vanished is as puzzling as the evil Benedict contained. And we don’t know what that is,” Edith admitted with a huff.
Mariah stifled a smile of amusement. It annoyed Edith a mystery remained.
“And Klaus Anderson?” Mariah asked.
“Him!” Prudence growled, and Mariah was shocked at the disgust in her voice.
“Klaus Anderson was a few years above me in school. Klaus’s family was poor but honest. They sometimes needed handouts, and decent clothing was often donated for Klaus. But he resented it and took it out on the other children. Klaus was a damn bully and grew up hated and friendless. We soon learned not to play with him. It would invariably lead to trouble, and he was great at blaming everyone else but himself. Klaus was the common denominator,” Rose-Marie said.
“It was a wonderful day when he won a scholarship to study away at college. Not denying the boy was bright and too damn clever for his own good. Klaus returned a couple of years ago, full of uppity ideas on dragging this village into the next century. He hates the quaintness and quirkiness of it. Klaus looks down his nose at us as uneducated country bumpkins. He runs a big development company and has tried to force new plans on us. Luckily, the council has rejected every stupid idea so far,” Hilary stated.
“Why does he want the Black Cat?” Mariah asked.
“Klaus wants to create one of those gastro pubs in it. And then put in slips and charge barges to stay overnight. Several things will happen if Klaus gets his hands on the Black Cat. He’ll tear the insides out and replace the beautiful old woodwork with some ghastly colour scheme. Klaus will charge through the nose for stupid plates of food and to dock at the Black Cat, which has always been free. He wanted the field that accompanied it. Klaus plans to build a housing estate there. If Klaus owns the land, he’s halfway through the battle,” Prudence snarled.
“He’ll also banish Benedict one way or another and release the evil Benedict keeps inside,” Rose-Marie whispered.
Mariah’s mind whined as she considered what these ladies believed. They seemed too serious to be talking nonsense. What if the voice she heard wasn’t a scare tactic from Klaus Anderson?
