The Curse of Arnford Manor

By Mythical Traveller
[mythmanxvi (at) hotmail.com]

CHAPTER V: Archives


Holliston Public Park, Holliston, NC
July 15th, 1931, 11:43am.
Demi opened her knapsack and began producing the picnic lunch she had prepared 
earlier. She had made the sandwiches personally from only fresh ingredients. 
Meanwhile, Nerine retrieved five bottles of fruit juice from her own knapsack and 
distributed them amongst her companions.

The five friends were seated at a rickety old picnic table, in the shade of a large oak 
tree. From where they sat, they could see the local townspeople going about their lives 
in the nearby town center. Some of them were glaring at the strangers with hostility or 
concern. But most saved their frosty looks for their fellow townspeople. Husbands 
and wives walked together, hand in hand, but otherwise there was not a single sign of 
friendship or trust to be seen.

Theres no sense of community here, Nina noted with pity. The curse has 
consumed it. Now their hearts are filled with loneliness and suspicion. They still go 
about their daily rituals, but they do so in pain.

Mmm, Nerine agreed. This entire town is teetering on the brink of disaster. I doubt 
it would take much to get these people to turn on each other  violently.

How long do you think its been this bad? Swift Coyote asked.

For a while, I suspect, Nina answered. This place has probably been gradually 
decaying since the curse began. We know that that was at least 25 years ago.

Demi was quick to counter her sisters idea, I disagree. I think theyve only started 
treating each other like this quite recently  within the past few days. I think that all 
the death and terror caused by the manifestation in Applebury was channelled into the 
curse back here. Seven days ago, this couldve been a typical American town and then 
virtually overnight, its been saturated in dark energy.

Youre probably right, Nina conceded with a nod. So... Who wants to go first? 
She asked a few seconds later, changing the subject in a lighthearted tone.

Well, we got some interesting leads, Nerine answered as she began unwrapping the 
brown paper containing her sandwich. She had spent the morning with Demi in the 
archives at the town hall. The building was originally named Arnford Manor and it 
was completed in the early 1740s. The current holder of the deed is a man named 
Gerald Colby, who apparently owns half the town. Colbys grandfather was the one 
who bought the manor and turned it into a hotel.

We couldnt get any specifics about that, but the people we talked to seem to think it 
happened around 1880, Demi elaborated.

So the extensions probably happened around that time, too, Nerine continued. 
Most of what we heard was pretty rudimentary... But something they told us might 
be significant.

In the local cemetery there are three graves side-by-side, that belong to three priests. 
Apparently, these priests all died within two years of each other and they all died at 
Arnford Manor.

Did they die after it became a hotel? Levinia asked.

No, Well before, said Nerine. Just around the turn of the 19th century, if I 
remember correctly. Demi nodded in agreement.

Do you think theyre the ones who cast the curse upon The Arnford? Swift Coyote 
asked Nerine.

Its possible, Nerine admitted, The Christian church has some powerful artifacts in 
its possession. As priests, they wouldve been keenly aware of the power of ritual. But 
they would need to have an incredible amount of malice in their hearts to cast a curse 
like this deliberately.

It sounds like these priests are worth looking into a bit further, said Nina.

I agree, Nerine replied, Thats why I asked the clerk in the archives to let us look 
at their records for the local clergy, pre-1850, as well as all the documents they have 
about Arnford Manor itself. He wasnt very accommodating. But we twisted his arm, 
so to speak. Hes agreed to track down all the records we need and have them ready 
by this afternoon,"

Splendid! Nina responded with a smile. We made some interesting discoveries 
ourselves, at the county coroners office.

Levinia swallowed a refreshing mouthful of juice before explaining what she, Nina 
and Swift Coyote had found, Since 1896, there have been at least thirteen suspicious 
deaths in Holliston. When I say suspicious, I dont mean they had a knife in their 
back, either. They were all young men, no older than 32, they were all supposedly fit 
as a fiddle, but their causes of death were all ruled as things like heart attacks, strokes 
or aneurisms.

Also, they were all found unusually decomposed, Nina added.

The current coroner has only investigated the last three deaths, Levinia continued, 
We had to drag it out of him, but we got him to admit that he found evidence that all 
three men had been having sex just before they died. He told us the sheriff made some 
discreet inquiries, but they never learned the identity of the woman involved.

Oh, I have a feeling weve met, Swift Coyote interrupted with sombre sarcasm. 
Levinia comforted him with an arm around his back. He had always held himself to a 
lofty standard of bravery in the face of his enemy. But last night, his encounter with 
the shadow lady (as the group had since nicknamed her), had utterly terrified him. He 
felt ashamed at his perceived failure, though his friends thought no less of him.

By the way, his vision last night was right on the money, too, Nina said, knowing 
that her lover could do with a compliment right about now. One of the men was 
named Ernest Skylar. He died in 1904, at The Arnford.

1904? He mustve been the one Mrs. Harrigan discovered, Demi concluded.

Right, Nina agreed. But heres the coup de grace: on a hunch, I compared the 
coroners records to the list of Mr. & Mrs. Harrigans deliveries, that Mr. Nolan 
gave us yesterday. Every one of those babies appeared nine months after one of those 
men died.

Wait... Nine months? Demi replied. Youre suggesting that these dead men are the 
babies fathers?

Thats what were thinking, yes, Levinia confirmed with a nod.

But why kill them? Swift Coyote asked.

It might be essential to their ritual, Nerine replied in a somewhat distant manner, as 
if she were thinking out loud. Perhaps they cast a spell on the child that requires the 
father to be sacrificed immediately after conception...

Lucky she wasnt your type, Nina whispered to Swift Coyote. He chuckled softly.

You said that there was something disturbing about the child you met? Nerine 
asked her sisters.

There was some kind of dark aura surrounding him, thats for sure, Demi agreed.

Well, that could explain it, Nerine said.

But... Then, who are the mothers? Levinia asked with a bemused expression. The 
shadow lady we saw couldnt have been older than 24. She wasnt getting pregnant in 
1896!

Dont be so sure, Nerine corrected. She had some powerful magic encircling her. 
Some of that may have been a disguise spell.

...Meaning she couldve been older than she looked, Levinia reasoned.

Exactly, replied Nerine. The youthful appearance may just be a ruse she uses to 
attract potential mates. On the other hand, we might be dealing with a dynasty of the 
dark arts  an order that passes their legacy on to younger acolytes... much like our 
own, I suppose.

There are still too many unknowns for us to begin speculating, Nina said, ending 
the largely theoretical discussion. Weve made progress this morning, were getting 
closer to discovering what caused the curse. So I think we should follow the leads 
weve found with an open mind.

After lunch, Levinia, you and Demi should get started on those records the council 
clerk digs up. Swift Coyote and Nerine, why dont you go to the cemetery and see if 
those priests graves can tell us anything?

What about you? Swift Coyote asked.

Im gonna go have a talk with this Gerald Colby. He might just be a guy who 
happens to own a cursed hotel. But then again, he might know something pertinent 
about The Arnfords history, Nina answered, before finishing her sandwich. 


------------------------------------

Residence of Mr. G. Colby, Holliston, NC
July 15th, 1931, 12:39pm
After a brief wait in the houses impressive living room, Nina was collected by the 
shy housemaid and led upstairs, to the study on the second floor.

Good day, miss, Gerald Colby greeted Nina as he got up from behind his desk. He 
was a middle-aged man with brown hair, dressed in a smart, grey tweed suit. He had a 
thick, but neatly trimmed moustache and he wore spectacles that shined in such a way 
that made it hard for Nina to see his eyes, at first.

Mr. Colby, Its a pleasure to meet you, sir, Nina politely responded. Colbys 
friendliness surprised her. He was far less hostile than anyone else she had 
encountered in Holliston thus far.

Gerald, please, Colby smiled. He gestured towards a small leather couch opposite a 
matching wing chair. Now, Ingrid tells me that youre some kind of academic aide?

Yes, Im gathering information for a professor who is writing a book on late-colonial 
period buildings, Nina fibbed, convincingly. Arnford Manor is a particularly 
interesting example. If Im not mistaken, youre the current owner of the property?

Yes, thats right. We dont call it Arnford Manor any more, though. My grampa 
turned it into a luxury hotel almost fifty years ago. Now we just call it The Arnford, 
Colby confirmed.

Yes, Id heard about that, Nina said. Tell me, what do you know about the 
buildings history before its conversion?

Colby thought for a second before answering, Not much. It was built by the Arnford 
family some time in the 1700s, although I couldnt tell you when, exactly. They 
owned most of the land in the area, including a large tobacco plantation near the 
manor. I believe they left the manor some time in the... 1820s? 1830s? Regardless, I 
think there were a few brief residents after that, but otherwise, the house was more or 
less deserted until grampa bought it in 1878.

You shouldnt rely on my details, though, miss? Colby stopped, realizing that he 
didnt yet know the young ladys name.

Haydn, Nina replied. Haydn was the surname that had been borne by her covens 
high priestess of fire since time immemorial.

Miss Haydn. Colby continued. History was never a passion of mine.

Oh, thats a shame, said Nina, It can be quite fascinating if you focus on the events 
rather than just the names and dates.

Hows that? Colby asked.

Well, for example, do you know any interesting stories about The Arnfords history? 
Perhaps something unusual happened there, or perhaps some of its occupants had 
reputations of being... unconventional? Nina prompted.

No, not that I... Oh, wait... Let me think, Colby said, suddenly recalling old 
memories in bits and pieces. Yes, if I remember correctly there was a crazy lady who 
used to live there. What was her name? Mad Mary? Mad Margo? Mad... Marcia! 
Thats it! Mad Marcia Arnford!

Really? What did she do to earn herself such an unkind nickname? Nina asked, 
genuinely intrigued.

She committed suicide, Colby replied, Or so the story goes... Yes... I remember 
now! She was said to be very beautiful, but used to spout these bizarre ravings 
about some kind of divine retribution, I think. She was a cold lady - very bitter, 
even to her own children. Then one day, all of a sudden, she kills herself.

I heard the story from my grampa. The first few years after he opened the Arnford 
for business, the staff used to say that Mad Marcias ghost was haunting the place.

A ghost? Nina scoffed. She tried to sound sceptical for Mr. Colbys benefit, even 
though she knew that earth-bound spirits truly existed. Pray, what made them think 
that the hotel was haunted?

Well, several members of the staff kept claiming that theyd seen her, Colby said. 
It was always the same story  the staff member would glance into a mirror, or a 
reflection on a window and theyd see a strange woman staring right at them. But 
when they turned around to where shed been standing, the woman was nowhere to be 
found.

Mad Marcia Arnford... Could she be the shadow lady? Nina silently asked herself. 
If so, shes far too powerful to be an ordinary ghost. There must be something else.

People who knew the story used to say that Mad Marcia was buried somewhere near 
the house. But grampa had several extensions done when he turned the place into a 
hotel and the foundation diggers never found any sign of her, Colby added.

Well, Ill be sure to remember that, Nina smiled. It certainly sounds like an 
interesting story, though whether itll be included in the book, I cant say. 

Now, What about the buildings recent history? Has there anything particularly 
interesting happened there since your grandfather opened it as a hotel? she inquired, 
curious as to how much he knew about the suspicious deaths and the babies.

No, not really, Colby said, shaking his head. She believed he was telling the truth. It 
seemed that the management of the hotel never told him about the mysterious 
occurrences. Shes been renovated to include all the modern amenities since then, of 
course. But otherwise, nothings really happened between 81, when it opened, to 
when it closed last year.  

His mood turned sombre. He sighed and said, It just wasnt getting the business it 
used to, you see. I was losing too much money on it to keep it open. Colby rose from 
his wing chair and wandered slowly over to the window. He wasnt looking at Nina 
any more, though he was still speaking to her, I had to lay off 37 people... Had to lay 
off another 80 at the cannery just four months ago. That was the last thing this town 
needed, but still, its better than letting the whole place go broke. I guess things are no 
easier anywhere else...

Then suddenly, a warm smile appeared on Colbys face as he stared out into his back 
yard. Curious as to what had provoked such a radical change in his mood, Nina 
stepped up behind him and peered over his shoulder.

There was a young couple strolling through the garden outside. The man, who looked 
to be in his late twenties, had short, wavy black hair and wore a simple, but dapper 
dark suit. Just shy of six feet in height, he had a strong nose and chin, but weak eyes. 
His haughty demeanor could not conceal the attraction he felt to the young lady. She 
appeared to be somewhat younger than he, perhaps nineteen or twenty years of age. 
She was an especially attractive woman, with a very pretty face. Her thick mane of 
long, golden hair tumbled all the way down to the small of her back. A pristine white 
lace dress hugged every curve of her torso and draped loosely around her legs, 
drawing particular attention to her slender waist and impressive bust.

Nina suspected that neither the young man, nor Mr. Colby had noticed the two male 
gardeners and Colbys chauffer, leering rudely at the young beauty from across the 
yard. Looking the way she did, Nina suspected that every man in town had, at some 
stage, fantasized about bedding her.

Did you happen to meet my daughter, Theresa, on your way in, Miss Haydn? Colby 
asked after a protracted silence.

No, I havent had the pleasure, Nina quietly replied.

Youll think Im biased for saying so, but shes a lovely girl. Shes clever, but kind 
to a fault... And she has her mothers eyes, Colby stated with pride.

She looks very happy, Nina commented as the young, smiling couple bought their 
faces scandalously close to one another. Her boyfriend?

Fiance. Thats Dean Fielding, hes a local attorney. Hes not what you might call a 
loquacious boy, but I know I can count on him to provide for my Resa.

Even from a distance, Nina could read Theresas body language like a book: The 
distinct mix of excitement and trepidation upon her face, the conflict of flirtation and 
restraint in her stance. It was clear that Theresas hymen was intact and she intended 
to keep it so, for Dean and Dean alone to take on their wedding night.

Nina marvelled at how Theresas happiness seemed to flourish in spite of the curse 
upon their town. Young love was truly one of the most beautiful things in the world. 
Watching them reminded her of how precious the bond she shared with Swift Coyote 
was. She smiled and gave silent thanks to the God and Goddess for guiding him into 
her life.

As joyful as itll be to give my little girl away to a good man, I have to admit that Ill 
be sad to see her leave. My wife, Abigail, passed away twelve years ago - Spanish 
Flu. Ever since then, its just been me and Resa. Ill be all by myself once shes 
married... Colby lamented. 

Nina sighed. She felt true sympathy for Colbys plight, but unfortunately, there were 
far more pressing matters at hand. After an appropriate pause, she returned the 
conversation to the history of Arnford Manor. Gerald, just one last question: Do you 
know anything about three priests that were associated with Arnford Manor, in some 
way?

Hm? Oh... I... I remember hearing something about that, Colby muttered. I 
couldnt tell you when, but I think they all died in the Manor in quick succession, 
maybe within a year of each other? Awfully bizarre coincidence...

Indeed, Nina agreed. I wonder what they were doing there in the first place? Do 
you suppose they were just visiting the Arnford family?

No, as far as I know, each of them was the Manors chaplain.


------------------------------------

Holliston Cemetery, Holliston, NC
July 15th, 1931, 12:39pm
These men all died in a state of extreme turmoil. Their sprits are confused, troubled, 
Swift Coyote told Nerine. Before them layed a row of three similar graves  the 
graves of the three priests. All three black granite desk monuments were severely 
weathered and two had large cracks with tall grass growing through them. The black 
granite tombstones were in extreme disrepair. They were mouldy, crumbling and nigh 
unreadable. Only the distinction of  Reverend, barely visible on one, assured Nerine 
and Swift Coyote that these were the graves they were looking for. 

...But they arent wicked. They do not torture themselves with guilt, either. I dont 
think these men brought the curse upon that hotel, intentionally or otherwise.

I agree, Nerine nodded. Their bones would reek of dark energy if they had been 
the progenitors of it. She quickly checked to make sure that nobody else was around, 
then she extended her hand and cast a spell. Mystic waters bubbled up from the soil 
and washed over the tombstones, partially removing the decay and restoring clarity to 
the epitaphs. She had hoped that the inscriptions would contain some useful 
information, but instead all she uncovered was the deceaseds names, dates of birth 
and death and an irrelevant biblical verse on each stone.

These graves can tell us nothing, she sighed. But there is still a lot of history in this 
place. We should explore further. We might learn something about the curse after all.

Row by row, the witch and the warrior strolled past each and every grave in the lonely 
cemetery. They kept their minds open to the silent voices of restless spirits and the 
natural flow of ambient energy. At one point, Nerine realized that she was walking 
alone. She turned around and discovered that Swift Coyote had stalled several graves 
back. She retraced her steps and stopped by his side.

Some of these graves are inhabited by the lingering spirits of the deceased. Others 
are peaceful grounds, because the spirit of the person buried there has moved on to the 
next life. But this grave is neither, Swift Coyote commented, with noticeable unease 
in his voice.

Nerine paid special attention to the epitaph on the headstone. Charles Donelly, it 
read, Died: September 22, 1912. Aged: 23. The name seemed instantly familiar to 
her. On a hunch, she removed her knapsack and began to rummage through the 
disorganized contents.

On this grave... is a void, Swift Coyote continued, where the departed ones spirit 
is supposed to be, but isnt. His spirit never moved on, and yet its not here... Its not 
anywhere. But when I look into that void, I can see the shape of the spirit that is 
meant to fill it. What worries me is that I recognize that shape... Its the shape of the 
monster we fought in the cloth factory... That last claim caught Nerines full 
attention. Except it was back-to-front and inside out... Its hard to explain, he huffed 
in frustration.

Thats okay, I think I understand... kind of, Nerine muttered, engrossed in two 
sheets of paper shed produced from her knapsack. Look here! I thought I recognized 
that name! Charles Donelly was one of the suspicious deaths. And if our theory is 
right, then judging by the dates he fathered... baby Katherine! The girl who went 
missing from the orphanage!

So what does that mean?

I have an idea... Nerine replied as an exotic theory began to brew in her mind.


------------------------------------

Archives Room, Town Hall, Holliston, NC
July 15th, 1931, 1:52pm
Demi gently layed the old sheet of paper she had been reading upon a nearby pile of 
records. She rose from her chair and began rifling through the large archive box in 
front of her. Her sudden exuberance was a stark contrast to Levinia, who was sitting 
across the table, listlessly rolling her sore eyes through a 19th century land roster. 
Demi sighed in frustration when she realized what she was looking for was not in the 
box. As luck would have it, the clerk came pacing past the ladies table at that exact 
moment.

Excuse me, Demi began, But are these all the books you have pertaining to the 
local church?

I put everything we got in that there box, the fifty-ish year old clerk replied, without 
even bothering to look at her. He was carrying a couple of official-looking folders, 
though his hands were far from full.

Youre absolutely sure? Demi pressed him, irritated by his callous attitude.

Missy, when I get told to do something I do it right. That way I dont get people 
coming back and bugging me a second time, he snapped.

Demi slumped back down in her chair and sighed again. The brief intermission in the 
rooms stifling silence had caught Levinias attention. She was about to ask her sister 
what was wrong when Demi suddenly lifted her head and said to herself, Maybe it 
never left...

I gotta go check something out, She told Levinia as she rose from her seat once 
more, I shouldnt be too long.

Okay, Levinia responded in a confused tone. Demi set off at a brisk pace. She 
bumped into Nina at the doorway.

Hi, Demi greeted. Nina responded likewise. Just need to go find something. Back 
soon, Demi quickly explained.

Where are you off to? Nina asked.

Church! Demi called out, already halfway to the staircase. Nina shrugged and 
continued into the center of the archives room. The clerk seemed miffed at the 
thought of another bothersome woman in his work area.

Hi, Nina quietly greeted Levinia as she approached her table.

Hi, Levinia replied, looking up from her research. Any Luck?

Maybe. Have you come across any mention of a Marcia Arnford?

Ive seen the name mentioned in a few places... why? Levinia asked.

I think she might be worth looking into. She has a troubling life story and I was told 
that there were numerous sightings of her ghost, late last century. Im thinking that it 
mightve been the shadow lady... Nina explained.

Okay, Ill see what I can learn about her, Levinia said. She put the book she had 
been reading down on the table and went searching through her archive box for 
documents that seemed to pertain to Marcia Arnfords lifetime.

Need a hand? Nina offered with a friendly smile.

If you like, you can carry on from where Demi left off, Levinia suggested. Shes 
been looking through the church records, whilst Ive been looking through records on 
the manor.

Okay, Nina agreed, sitting down in the seat Demi had occupied only a minute ago. 

She reached into the box containing the church records and pulled out the nearest 
book. She completely ignored the small pile of books and documents on the right side 
of the table which, as she correctly assumed, had already been examined by Demi. 
Topping the pile was a fragile, yellowed sheet of paper with a message that read, 
Dear Reverend McGregor,

I write this letter with a heavy heart, but can no longer conceal the terrible things 
that I know.

I know not what you have heard about the priests who served in the Manor house, 
before the village church you now serve was built. But suffice to say many terrible 
things have happened in Arnford Manor these past 14 years and I am afraid I might 
know the reason why, all too well. I fear that if such tragedies continue, it might be 
necessary for you to call to the Lord to grant mercy upon Arnford Manor. I have 
made many such prayers, but they go unanswered. I hope that you, as his pious 
servant may achieve what I cannot.

When that time comes, I suspect you may need to know the history of these 
happenings and more importantly, the terrible memory I have never spoken of in 
thirty-two years. To this end, I include with this letter my journal. It should tell you 
most of what you need to know. However, I pray you do not open it unless you find it 
absolutely necessary to do so. The information within would destroy several 
reputations, including my own, if it were to become known. An entire family would be 
humiliated. I do not wish my journal to do any harm, if it can do no good.

I am taking my family and moving west. I cannot continue to live in this place. 
Perhaps some day, Arnford Manor shall be a place of comfort once more. But I shall 
never return.

Farewell, Reverend.

Your penitent servant,


Riley Vandelul

April 6, 1813 


------------------------------------

Basement of the First Church of Holliston, Holliston, NC
July 15th, 1931, 2:14pm
Demi carefully descended the old wooden staircase. It turned out to be much sturdier 
than it had looked from the top. Now dont you go making a mess down there, 
yhear? You can let yourself out, the deacon instructed from atop the staircase, 
before wandering off to resume his own business. From his abrupt manner, Demi got 
the impression that he did not like having strangers in his church. It had been most 
tiresome convincing him to let her search the churchs forgotten keepsakes for 
missing records. She hoped coming here would be worth the trouble.

Groping blindly through the musty darkness, Demi soon found the pull-string switch 
for the basement light. She pulled on it and with a click, three dim 30W light globes 
revealed the basements contents. The large collection of paraphernalia looked as if it 
had been built up over more than a century. Demi took a deep breath and began to 
explore.

She rifled through a half dozen of the basements many unmarked boxes and 
thoroughly inspected two dusty old bookshelves, still lined with books. Then she 
happened to notice an old writing desk pressed against the wall. It had been buried 
under so much junk that she had not noticed it earlier. Judging by its carving and 
fixtures, Demi surmised that it could well have been built before the 1800s.

One by one, Demi opened the drawers, working bottom-to-top and alternating left and 
right. None of the contents were of any interest to her. There was a simple brass lock 
on every drawer, but only the top left drawer was locked. Demi tapped her fingers 
upon the desk as she thought for a moment.

The key might have been somewhere amongst the junk in the basement, but even if 
that were so, finding it would take far too long. On the other hand, she had no 
intention of giving up on the desk without inspecting that last drawer. Instead, Demi 
opted for a direct approach. She pulled a pin from her hair, letting her bouncy ebony 
locks fall loose upon her shoulders. She had never picked a lock in her life, but she 
understood the theory behind it.

Thanks largely to the simplicity of the 18th century lock, Demi managed to pop it 
open after several minutes of trying. With a squeal of triumph she excitedly pulled the 
drawer out to reveal...

A couple of antiquated pens... and some blank stationary. A rather disappointing 
booby prize.

But then she noticed that the drawer was shallower than its counterpart on the right. 
She emptied the drawer of its contents and on closer inspection, discovered it had a 
false bottom. She removed it and found a single item hidden beneath: A small leather-
bound book, with a taut leather strap wrapped around it. Scratched into the cover were 
the letters R & V  Riley Vandelul! A broad grin washed across Demis face as 
she grabbed the book. This was what shed been looking for!

A brief, hollow sound, like a metal pot scaping on stone emanated from the dark 
corner directly behind her. Demi whirled around instantly, but saw nothing out of 
place. Mustve just been rats, she thought, trying to reassure herself. All the same, 
the noise had spooked her just a little. For a moment she thought it was the deacon. If 
he caught her with the journal, he might try to confiscate it. She couldnt afford that.

She secreted the journal into the folds of her frock and then hurriedly restored the 
desk to its original state. Then she stepped lively back to the basement exit, switching 
the lights off as she left.

From the dark corner at the far end of the basement, the shadow lady watched Demis 
legs disappear up the stairs and sneered.

