Lady Moorehouse


Fury raged through Lady Moorehouse, her blood burning as she learned of the lie her husband had told her and the action he had comitted toward his own child. After her fit of anger, she coldly returned to the carriage, staring out the window.

She was infuriated as they rode back to Moorehouse Hall, once did her husband approached her, putting his hand over her own and starting to murmur gently to her. Lady Moorehouse flicked his hand off her own, avoiding his gaze as silence made it's second entrance into the carriage.

Lady Moorehouse could not help take a curious glance at his young daughter, who was staring at her with her wide, freakish eyes. Giving an involuntary shudder, she noted her age-she appeared six or seven but was told by Lord Moorehouse that she was only born months ago. Another lie, she supposed.

Yet there was something that intrigued Lady Moorehouse, that made her stare back at her deep black eyes full of strange knowledge. There was a dark, unusual beauty about her, a glimmer of a lovely woman in the making that appeared one of the fae rather than a human girl. But the peculiar knowing in Lilith's eye made her turn away, as if the girl could see right through her. She hoped that she would not have to spend many hours with the child in the emptiness of the Abbey.


When they returned, the servants quivered with fear at the sight of the child who stared at them with her deathly pale face. They speechlessly backed away, but snapped to reality when their Master barked an order at them. Lord Moorehouse seemed to try to stay as far away from his daughter as humanly possible, appearing on edge. Could what the priest said be true? That the child was formerly possessed by Satan and caused the death of both her nannies?

Still wishing to punish Lord Moorehouse, she swept by him, not daring acknowledge his presence, and went to their chamber where she may change from her Sunday clothes and ready for dinner. She found her handmaid, Mary, hanging freshly cleaned gowns. Mary was as new as she was, yet the young woman lingered with the maids and knew of their gossip.

"Mary," began Lady Moorehouse, sitting herself gently on the mattress.

"Yes, m'lady?" her sweet, country voice replied. The Lady sometimes envied her handmaid's youthful, carefree innocence and her bright eyes. Her own days had been spent learning womanly talents and being prepared for marriage to a wealthy man such as Lord Moorehouse. She twisted her golden chains in her fingers, a ruby dangling at the end. On the other hand, she quite enjoyed her plentiful material things, dressing up and going to dances.....

Mary's standing, gazing at her snapped her from her thoughts. "Have you heard anything of my Lord's only child?"

"No, m'lady," Mary answered after a brief, uneasy pause. Her mistress knew she was lying, hiding something from her.

"Well, I was asking, for you probably know more than I with all your standing about in the Kitchen," Lady Moorehouse took a different approach. "The child supposedly died as a day old yes?"

"Of-of course, m'lady," spluttered Mary, slowly continuing her duties as she heard the sly note in Lady Moorehouse's voice. She hated lying to her, but she swore to them that she would not breathe a word of it....

"Well, that's curious," sighed Lady Moorehouse casually. "Because she returned with my Lord and I from church today from the possession of Father Palmer."

Mary nearly dropped the pitcher of water she held in her hands, turning hurriedly to her mistress as the color drained from her face. "The demon child has returned! She has killed her nannies, and after her birth, a few servant girls died! She cannot have returned!"

"So you do know about this?" she smiled, standing from her bed.

The young handmaid's color darkened; she had been caught. Sweet girl, but perhaps not the most intelligent. "So, what else have you heard, Mary? Please, do tell-there is no use hiding it from me, secrets can no longer be covered as I have come across the discovery of the life of the child."

Mary sighed, sitting aside the pitcher and coming to her mistress' side. She began to tell all that she knew-gossip, legend, truths. Lord Moorehouse had told Mrs. Davis that all servants were to keep Lilith a secret from his Lady, or else whoever who tell would be immediately tossed into the street. But Mary decided to leave that bit out, going on, "Lilith is her name. It means 'Of The Night', descending from some foreign, Arabic language. She was born in the Witching Hour, when death comes upon many. Ever since, the place has been haunted by her very presence.....,"

The End

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