The Ghost and the Rose

Chapter 18

I retreated to the place that had been my sanctuary during my time at Burnley, my room. It sounded right now even referring to it as 'my room'. I sat myself down on the edge of the bed facing the window wall.

I kept looking behind me as though I expected someone to be stood there, watching me. But there was no-one. Something wasn't right. It must have been the Kate part of me who knew this room as well as her own face that knew something was amiss. There was an uneasy squirming in my gut I couldn't control.

Then, as though another force had possessed me, I flew around the room, my hands on everything. I flung open coffers, throwing their contents all over the floor and ran my hand down the silken drapes tied at each post of the bed. Nothing. I ran my fingers on top of and on the underside of the table.

All of a sudden, rivers of ice solidified the liquid blood in my veins. I turned to the table at the side of the bed. The table upon which the statue of the St George had once stood proud.

My throat bobbed. I needed the St George back or more accurately, Kate needed the St George back. I didn't know why, and I couldn't shake the strange feeling I had about it. Out of all the objects I had come into contact with that was the one that caused the most violent reaction. Sweat coated my palms and hairline at the sheer thought of seeing it again. But I knew I must. The St George held a dark secret, and I wanted to know it too.

I found Meg in the kitchen with Jennet. The girl who could be no older than myself looked horrified when I walked in.

"I need the St George," my words rushed out.

"The St George?" Meg repeated. "Are you sure because the last time..."

"I'm sure. There's something about it and the very thought of it is filling me with dread but I know it must be done."

"Very well, Jennet, continue preparing the meat. In a matter of hours, we shall have ravenous soldiers descending on Burnley. The more they can stuff in their mouths, the less we will have to listen to. Come with me, Anne."

She led me to the room where the child Kathryn had taking me to see the portraits.

"This is where we take things we do not wish to see again," a solemn quality coated her voice. "My lord had banished it here after he had studied it in vain. He tried so hard to discover why it affected you so."

And there it was, just sat on the stone floor. My limbs trembled, and I struggled to even make my way towards it.

"I will stay with you."

I forced my way over and made my fingertips graze the horse's head. The black clouds gathered, and lightning struck my head again and again. There was red everywhere, thick and dripping and a face appeared. I could not make it out at first but then yes, there it was again. Rich. There was no question about it. It was his face.

I cried out in agony and clutched my hair at the temples. When it had subdued, Meg was at my side.

"Oh, my dear, sweet child," she put her hand on my forehead. "How you suffer!"

I felt the heat rising in my face and my stomach turned. There was nothing I could do. Meg rubbed my back as I bent over, throwing up what I had eaten for supper.

"What did you see?" she asked concern filling her voice.

"I saw blood and Rich."

I allowed myself to fall to the floor and scrambled into the corner. My head felt like it was being split in two. I recognised him as Rich from the library, but Kate's memories were whispering another name. One I had heard many times. "Ralph Croft," I gasped. "Rich is Ralph Croft."