Ghosts of Rathburn Park (7 page)

“Well…” Matt hesitated. “For one thing…” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m not a very good swimmer.”

She shrugged. “So what? If you fell in you’d probably drown even if you were. Nobody can swim in that stuff. You get tangled up in the roots of the reeds and they pull you down. It’s kind of like quicksand.”

“Oh yeah,” Matt said, “I heard about the quicksand.”

“But it’s not at all dangerous if you’re with me,” Amelia insisted. “I go this way all the time and I know how to do it. So come on. Follow me and step right where I step.”

If Matt had had a different kind of personality, he probably would have ignored Amelia’s order and stayed right where he was. But being the youngest person in a family where everyone else had more or less alpha-type personalities, he’d had a lot of practice at doing what he was told. So in the end, he took a deep breath and followed Amelia out into the swamp.

C
ROSSING THE SWAMP WAS
just about the scariest thing Matt had ever done. He didn’t want to do it to begin with, and after the first couple of steps, he hated it even more. The only thing that kept him from turning around was that he was more scared of trying to go back alone than he was of going on behind Amelia. So he kept going, leaping to one tiny reedy island and then, as the one he was on began to squash and sink, on to the next.

“Come on. Keep moving,” Amelia called back to him. “If you stand still, you start to sink,” which was exactly what he’d been noticing. Thinking, Now she tells me, he jumped and went on jumping. At one point, far out in the middle of the swamp, he lost his balance and went down on his knees on a soggy clump of reeds. Frantically pushing himself back to his feet, he sloshed on and on until at last the landing spots began to get larger and drier. And then finally, still following Amelia, he was scrambling up a low bank and onto solid ground.

Without stopping at all, not even long enough to congratulate himself on still being alive, he followed Amelia as she scrambled up a long slope. At the top of the slope they arrived at a high iron fence, and beside the fence a faint trail led off to the right. A trail that soon led to a grand entrance where the wrought-iron letters
RATHBURN
formed an arch over a huge front gate. Opening a smaller pedestrian gate, Amelia led the way onto the estate grounds.

It wasn’t until then that Matt looked up and saw a tower rising above the trees. A huge squarish tower, elaborately decorated with carvings, railings and strangely shaped windows.

“Hey,” he gasped. “Is that it? Is that the Palace?”

Amelia stopped and turned back to him. “Yeah,” she said without even looking toward where Matt was pointing. “Yeah, that’s it. What do you think?”

“What do I think? Well, I think it’s…,” Matt was beginning to say, but Amelia hadn’t stopped to listen, so he shut up and hurried on, stumbling now and then as he continued to stare up to where a cluster of smaller towers was beginning to show above the tops of the trees. A whole forest of towers, reaching up three or four stories into the sky. Some of them were roundish, some triangular, some more or less square. And all of them were decorated with pillars and railings and fancy wooden trim. Matt was amazed, and very impressed.

“Well, what
do
you think?” Amelia finally waited for him to catch up. “A real mess, isn’t it?”

She didn’t seem to be kidding. “It’s, it’s really…,” Matt was stammering as she began to move forward between bushy clumps of underbrush. They were fairly close to the house itself before their pace slowed enough to give him time to notice that they were in what must have once been an elaborate garden. But what had been carefully planned and plotted lawns and flower beds was overgrown now and full of weeds. And he could see that the house itself was in need of repair. Paint was peeling off the bulgy pillars that supported the roof of the veranda, and here and there bits of fancy wooden trim were damaged or missing.

Matt’s shiver was unintentional but not entirely unpleasant. For some reason the fact that the grand old house was shabby and run-down made it seem even more exciting, giving it the atmosphere of an ancient castle, or maybe a scene from a Halloween ghost story. He had started forward, heading toward the grand flight of stairs that led to the front door, when Amelia grabbed his arm and dragged him back into the bushes.

“Hey. Where do you think you’re going?” she said. “You can’t go up there.”

Matt stopped. “I can’t? Why not? I thought that was why you brought me here. So I could see the house.”

For a moment she didn’t answer. Staring at Matt, or at least in his general direction, her eyes went cloudy and unfocused. It was several seconds before she went on, speaking slowly and with long pauses between each word. “Well,” she said. “It’s like this.” She paused, bit her lip, took a deep breath, and continued, “It’s because…the rest of the Rathburns don’t like me to bring people to the house.” She was speaking faster now, sounding more like she knew what she was going to say next. “See, the Rathburns are the kind of people who don’t let ordinary people come into their house.”

Matt was disappointed. Still looking up at the fantastic mansion, he couldn’t help sighing. He was thinking that any house with such a grand bunch of decorations on the outside just naturally would have to be incredibly interesting on the inside. Grand and elegant and full of unexpected rooms and hallways and mysterious nooks and crannies like the weird houses that sometimes appeared in his dreams.

He was still trying to imagine what sorts of rooms a house that big might have, and what they could possibly be used for, when he noticed that Amelia was watching him. Staring at him, actually, with that strange, halfway angry-looking smile on her face.

“Well, look,” she said. “Maybe we could go inside—if you promise to be very quiet and do exactly what I say.”

“Sure,” Matt said. “Why not? It’s your house.”

She sighed. “Okay. Come with me. But be very quiet.”

As Amelia moved toward the house she wasn’t exactly going on tiptoe, but the quick, quiet way she walked had the same effect. At least Matt, following right behind her, found himself tiptoeing as they ducked in and out behind bushes, passed the end of the grand veranda and reached a long foundation wall made of brick that had once been painted white.

Amelia kept moving along the foundation until she came to an opening covered by an iron grill. Grabbing the grill in both hands, she lifted it out of the window and set it down on the ground. Just inside was a window made of many panes of glass. As Matt watched in astonishment, Amelia seemed to put her arm, clear up to the elbow, right through one of the small panes. By the time he
realized
that there was no glass in that particular frame she had finished unlatching the window and swung it open.

“Here. Hold it,” she told Matt. “I’ll go through first.” And she did, disappearing feet first. A minute later she reached back up to hold the window in place. “Here,” she said. “I’ve got it. You come through now.”

It wasn’t as easy as she had made it look, but with only a scraped knee and a slightly bumped head, Matt finally lowered himself down into—deep shadow, a distinct change in temperature and an unpleasantly musty smell. “Okay,” Amelia was whispering. “Here we are.”

Staring into almost complete darkness, Matt whispered back, “Where? Where are we? Why is it so cold?”

She made an exasperated sniffing noise. “Basements are supposed to be cold,” she said. “You wanted to see the Palace, didn’t you? So here you are. In the basement of the Palace. I thought you might like to see the basement first. Okay?”

“Yeah sure.” Matt blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of light. “But it’s too dark to see very much, isn’t it?”

“Well, just wait a minute and I’ll fix that,” Amelia said in an irritated tone of voice. “I just have to get my flashlight.” And then, as she started away, she added, “Stay right where you are. Don’t move a muscle.”

“Wait. Come back. Don’t leave…,” Matt started to say, but it was no use. Amelia’s shadowy form was fading into solid black nothingness.

L
EFT ALONE IN THE
dark basement, Matt did as he was told and didn’t move a muscle, except the ones that move when you shiver. Only a quick quiver at first, the shaking rapidly developed into something that started at the back of his neck and shook him so hard his teeth chattered. With his muscles tensed against the shaking, he strained his eyes and ears to follow Amelia as she moved away, faded and disappeared entirely. He’d gone on straining and shivering for what seemed like practically forever before a faint ray of light and the sound of Amelia’s voice began to drift back to him. “Come on,” she was calling. “I’ll shine the flashlight back that way.”

As he left the window’s light behind, Matt tried to stay within the flashlight’s beam, but it wasn’t easy. Large dim and dusty shapes, cupboards perhaps, or simply huge stacks of boxes, crowded in on either side so that most of the time he seemed to be moving through a narrow tunnel. It was slow going. When he finally caught up to Amelia, she reached back and grabbed his sleeve. Then she turned the flashlight’s beam away and began to move forward.

Matt stumbled after her as they made their way through several small rooms full of stacked crates and boxes and then into a more open area where their path wound between barrels and racks of dusty bottles. A strange, sweetly sour smell was heavy in the air. As Matt sniffed, Amelia said, “Yeah. It stinks, doesn’t it? It’s the wine room.”

There were other dark, dusty rooms. Somewhere old tables, chairs, desks and cabinets sat around only partly draped in sheets of canvas. Between some of the rooms short flights of steps led up and then down again.

At first Matt tried to remember the twists and turns, but he soon realized he had lost all sense of direction. Amelia, however, continued to move forward without hesitating.

Somewhere along the way she let go of Matt’s sleeve but, feeling certain that he would never be able to find his way back to the window on his own, he reached out quickly to grab the edge of her white veil.

At last, a longer flight of stairs led steeply upward to a small landing, where Amelia carefully and quietly opened a door and they stepped out of the cold and dark into another hallway and a totally different atmosphere. This hall was still bleak and bare and very narrow, but a window at one end provided at least a little natural light and the air was suddenly dry and warm. Amelia jerked her veil out of Matt’s hand.

“All right,” she whispered. “We’re out of the basement now. Be very quiet.”

As they started down the hall, Matt began to hear low sounds, which grew louder as they passed a closed door. Clattering, scraping sounds and with them a more normal sort of smell. The warm, greasy smell of a kitchen where something had been cooking not long ago, or perhaps still was cooking at that very moment. Amelia was definitely tiptoeing now and, as she looked back at Matt, she held a finger to her lips in a stern-faced demand for quiet.

They continued to tiptoe, the kitchen noise and smells faded, and at the end of the hall another flight of dimly lit, narrow stairs led up, turned and then went up again. Finally, Amelia came to a stop, pushed open a door and peeked out. Turning back, she again put her finger to her lips and stared at Matt with narrowed eyes. “Okay,” she whispered. “Follow me and be absolutely
quiet.”

Matt followed her out through a narrow door that, as she pushed it back into place, became only a piece of shiny wood paneling. He was still staring at the hidden door when, following her pointing finger, he turned around—and froze with astonishment. They were now in an enormous room. As wide as two ordinary rooms and much longer than it was wide, it went on and on, and every inch of it was furnished and decorated in an incredible way. Large, fancy pieces of furniture sat along walls that were covered with mirrors and pictures. Pillars, statues, painted panels and curving arches were everywhere, and up above a long procession of crystal chandeliers dangled from the high ceiling.

It was absolutely the grandest room Matt had ever seen—and grand in an incredibly old-fashioned and historical way. It probably was, next to the missions and the Alamo, the most ancient place Matt had ever been in. And although the Alamo might have been a little bit more historical, the Rathburn Palace was certainly a lot fancier. Turning in a slow circle, Matt stared and went on staring, and would have stared even longer if Amelia hadn’t jerked on his sleeve.

“Okay. Okay. You’ve seen it. Let’s go,” she whispered.

And Matt whispered back, “What is this room? What’s it for?”

“It’s the hall,” Amelia said.

“A hallway?” Matt was amazed. “Just a hallway?”

“Well, not an ordinary hall like for walking through to get someplace. More like the kind of great hall people have parties in. And dance. I guess they used to have really big parties here.” Amelia was sounding more impatient as she went on. Impatient and anxious, too. “Come on. Let’s go. Follow me.”

Matt followed her slowly down the great hall, swiveling his head from side to side as he stared up at beautiful stained-glass windows and down into huge stairwells where flights of marble stairs curved down to a lower level and up to a higher one. At last, near the end of the hall, Amelia pushed on what seemed to be another solid panel of shiny wood, and when another secret door opened, she pulled Matt toward it.

“Hey,” he said. “Show me how you did that.”

“Did what?”

“Opened that secret door.”

She made a snorting noise. “They’re not secret doors,” she said. “They’re just doors to the servants’ hallways. All the Rathburns knew they were here. They just weren’t supposed to use them. Only the servants were supposed to use them.”

As they made their way down the dim and narrow stairs, Matt asked, “So this is a servants’ staircase?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Amelia said. “So the servants could get all around the house to wait on people without bothering anyone or getting in their way. The big stairs and hallways were just for the Rathburns.”