“If you don’t mind me asking, I’d like to know more about the ghosts you mentioned before.”
Charles stiffened next to me, but I ignored him. I cared little about his opinion now.
“Oh, you are in no danger of being haunted, Alice. My sister and I routinely cleanse the house.” Abigail’s eyes were wide and sincere. The woman was much more subdued than her sister—more solemn—but I could tell she did care about my comfort. She didn’t want me to be frightened. Of her or the ghosts.
“I believe you,” I assured her. “But you mentioned that you both have enough spirits already without adding more. What did you mean by that? If you cleanse the house, then how do any spirits remain here?”
Abigail and Margaret shared a look—one I recognized as saying more than Charles or I was aware of—and then Margaret laid down her spoon and smiled at me. “There are some spirits we don’t wish to be rid of.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Family,” Abigail explained. “Members of our family who lived on this land before us. This property has been passed through the Wilds family for over a century, and my sister and I feel that it is no place of ours to expel our relatives from their home.”
“If this is where they wish to make their eternal rest, then we will cohabitate with them.” Margaret lifted her arms into the air, gesturing around the room as though I should be able to look around and see her family members sitting amongst us.
There was, of course, no one but the four of us.
“How exactly do you cleanse spirits that are not members of your family? And how do other spirits come to live here?”
Abigail folded her hands in front of her, and I noticed how calloused and scarred they were. She had spent much of her life using them for manual labor. Whatever I thought about their life out here on the moors, they were devoted to it.
“Sometimes spirits come with a person,” she said. “Like Nurse Gray. She only stayed with us for a brief time, but she came with a whole host of spirits. I suppose it can be expected, working in the field of medicine.”
“Nurse Gray stayed with you?”
“Margaret and Abigail recommended Nurse Gray to me when Catherine…” Charles’ voice tapered off before picking back up again. “When we needed the assistance.”
Margaret tipped her head at Charles in acknowledgement and turned back to me. “Sometimes we see Nurse Gray on her daily walks when we are out as well to gather bones.”
I turned towards Abigail. “Excuse me?”
“On the moors,” Margaret continued. “We walk the trails and scavenge for animal remains and ancient human remains. They are a direct link to the spirit of each creature and they allow us to connect with them.”
Charles sighed next to me, drawing Abigail’s attention. Once he knew he had one of the Wilds’ eyes on him, he took a hasty spoonful of soup and smacked his lips together, feigning enjoyment.
“It is a hobby more than a necessity, but we enjoy it,” Margaret said.
Soon after this conversation, Charles stood up, thanked our hosts for having us, and insisted we had to get home before dessert could be served. I, for one, was quite curious what would constitute a dessert in the Wilds home, but they did not press us to stay.
Margaret, however, did stop me at the door.
“Please come back again and see us before you leave,” she said, grabbing my arm. “We would love the company. It isn’t often we meet people who are curious about our life and ways.”
I laid my hand over hers. “Gladly. I’ll come so often you’ll be weary of me.”
I couldn’t explain my fondness for the strange women. They should have frightened me. Their way of living and interests were bizarre and unsettling. But Margaret and Abigail Wilds were authentic. They were truly themselves despite it all, and being around them felt refreshing. It held a larger appeal than remaining in my sister’s home where everyone seemed to have some kind of ulterior motive.
Charles didn’t speak to me until we were at the end of the drive and turning onto the road back to his own home, almost as though he thought the Wilds had the ability to hear him wherever he was on their property.
“What the Wilds do is different, Alice.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t see how.”
“They are old ladies living in an isolated area who cure their loneliness with spirits. I allow them onto our property for daily walks. They say they are coming to look for bones, but I know they like being near other people after a lifetime spent alone in that crumbling house.” Charles shook his head. “All of their claims of ghosts and spirits come back to one thing: they want for human connection. Catherine already has that.”
I turned to my brother-in-law. His face was tinged with color from the headlights, but otherwise, he was in the dark. I could see that he believed what he was saying. It showed in the set of his jaw and the press of his lips.
But I could also see the tiny flicker of doubt in his eyes, and I hoped to fan that flicker into a flame.
“Do you truly believe that, Charles?” I asked quietly. “Alone in that room, sleeping her days away. Does she really? Because I don’t think so.”
7
When I came down to breakfast the next morning and saw Catherine at the table, I hoped my conversation with Charles the night before had been effective. I hoped he’d seen the error of his ways and decided to allow his wife more freedoms. It wasn’t fair that Catherine should be locked away for the same reasons the Wilds were interesting neighbors. I hadn’t seen her do anything dangerous since my arrival, and if
