Neidpath Castle, Robert Tonge (1823–1856)
Late October, 1913.
The orchard is silent in late October, after the apple harvest has come and gone. The season of picking has come to a close; no hands working away, and no voices chattering. The wind blows through the trees, knocking more dead leaves off with every gust. The only life in the orchard now are the small woodland creatures and occasional insects that go after the fallen apples left to return to the earth.
Walking through this place, one does not feel alone despite its lack of people. No, there is something here, still. Memories of times gone by linger in the nearby stone ruins, and the feeling of the past is present in gusts of wind that bellow through an otherwise silent landscape.
The Lady of the estate prefers to stay inside, away from the orchard, during this time of year. Not for fear, but for understanding. Understanding that she is one steward in a long line of orchardists who have lived on this land over the centuries, and that remnants of their lives are still here. Remnants she would rather avoid while the veil is thin in late October.
The modest Georgian house that she inhabits being the newest of the estate’s buildings certainly would make one aware of such things. Conversely, so would the oldest- a ruined stone castle at the edge of the orchard, built in the 13th century, only to be abandoned by the end of the 16th. The Lady of the orchard often wonders what happened to the inhabitants of that grand old place, and for what reason it would be left to ruin.
~❦~❦~❦~
With the harvest season having come to a close, the Lady of the orchard had fallen into a slower rhythm with her routine. Just as she had every night for the past few weeks, tonight she winds down for the evening in her favorite cotton chemise dress, and settles in front of the stone hearth for a bit of tea and reading.
The glowing flame crackles in the crisp cold air of the old house, illuminating the delft tiles that surround the fireplace, painted with intricate apple motifs. Having finished her previous book the night prior, tonight the Lady must choose something new. She shifts through the stack of books beside her chair, reading each gilded title in the warm firelight. Eventually, she settles on Wuthering Heights. A distracting literary classic to lose herself in, just as she preferred.
The Lady of the orchard could easily escape into a good story for hours until she fell asleep in her reading chair, having no visitors or housemates to disrupt her. Her husband had long since passed on, and she did not have any children. It was just her, her old English Setter, and the wealth she gleaned from the orchard. Though, on this night, her usual escape into literary fantasy was short-lived.
Just as she’s nearing the end of the first chapter, she hears *Bang! Bang! Bang!*- pounding against the front door. Her old dog looks up from its place by the fire, raising an ear to listen. Quickly losing interest, it puts its tired head back down only a moment later.
The Lady of the orchard, rather jumpy in comparison to her lethargic dog, leaps up and slams her book down on the side table, which sends her teacup tumbling to the floor. Even with the loud clink of ceramic against the wooden floorboards, the old Setter barely bats an eye.
Odd... the lady thinks to herself. No one has been around this part of the estate for weeks... who could it be at this hour?
The Lady of the orchard gently tiptoes over to the door, defensively grabbing the fire-poker on her way. She peers out the window tentatively, concerned about what she may see. Surely it’s no Heathcliff at my door… she continues in thought.
She was relieved to find that it was only the young girl from the family who helps run the estate’s cider mill down the road. However, she was no less irritated by the intrusion on her evening.
Opening the door, the Lady of the orchard lets out an exasperated sigh. “Hello, what can I do for y-” She stops mid sentence, seeing that the mill girl is white as a sheet. “Are you alright?” she questions.
“So s-sorry to bother you mistress... I-it’s just that. I was down at the storehouse collecting the last box of apples for milling this evening, and I could have sworn I saw someone across the way in the orchard… near the edge of the field...” She pauses before continuing. “…and well, no one is supposed to be here at this hour, let alone this late in the year!” The mill girl stutters through her fear as she wrings her apron in her hands. “So I ran up here to see if you knew who it was... and... because I was frightened!”
Hmm... the orchard workers have gone for the season and the gates to the estate are shut. No one should be here. The Lady ponders the mill girl’s testimony. “Did you get a proper look at them, dear?” She asks the girl. “Could you describe their appearance?”
“Yes! It appeared to be a woman, very light in complexion, with dark hair, wearing some sort of antique dress. It looked to be a chemise, somewhat similar to the one you are wearing now... but more intricate... and of an older style.” The mill girl replies. “Please, oh please tell me she is a tenant of yours!”
The Lady of the orchard almost goes pale herself upon hearing this. “No. I do not have any tenants other than you and your kin at the mill...” She pauses to think, “If you did not recognize her, perhaps we should go investigate while there is still a bit of light out.”
The Lady shuts the door behind her, knowing her indolent dog would be of no help, still laying by the hearth. She grabs the arm of the mill girl in hers, and they start off down the hill towards the rows of apple trees.
As the hems of their skirts brush past dry plants and swish around their boots, the Lady cannot help but feel a growing sense of dread well up inside her. While she had never seen any spectral beings herself, she knew well how ancient this land was, and how the past often lingered in places untouched by new everyday life, like the ruins beyond the edge of the orchard. As much as she wanted to think practically, she found it difficult to put the thought of the other-worldly out of her mind.
The wind stood still in the twilight of the evening as they walked towards the entrance of the orchard. There was no sound of rustling leaves, no animals rooting about in the mulch. Just silence. They stood and surveyed the area.
“I do not see or hear anyone dear, where did you catch a glimpse of the woman?” Asked the Lady of the orchard.
“I saw her walking through that last row of trees... towards the old stone tower.” Answered the mill girl.
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Said the Lady, as she looked on with concern towards the quickly darkening tower on the eastern horizon beyond the trees.
Perhaps it is just a girl out for a walk, cutting through one of the downed fences around the estate to get home quicker... The Lady thought to herself. Or maybe someone is playing a trick... Her mind tried its best to create logical justifications, but they just could not quell her fear.
The two walked into the row of trees directly leading to the ruins, arm in arm, in silence. They both wanted to be able to hear any sound that may reveal the source of mystery.
Approaching the end of the row, suddenly a strong gust of wind picked up a swath of leaves, blowing it in front of the Lady and the girl.
“Ahhhhhhhh!” The mill girl screamed and fell backwards onto the cold ground.
“What is the matter?!” The Lady of the orchard yelled in shock, as she turned towards the girl on the ground to help her up. She looked at the mill girl’s face, and her eyes were larger and brighter than the harvest moon.
“THERE! I saw someone through the rush of wind and leaves!” the mill girl cried, pointing with one hand and shielding her face with the other, as she turned away from the Lady’s help. “Someone was in that window!”
The Lady of the orchard turned around to look, but the wind had died down, and she could see no one in the stillness.
Feeling rather protective over the frightened girl, the Lady grabs her hand and says: “If you do not wish to go further... I will investigate alone.”
“Y-yes... I wish to stay here! I don’t want to go into the ruins!” The girl cries out in response.
“Alright... you stay here with the fire poker.” She puts the makeshift defense into the girl’s hand. “Call out for me if you need me to return!”
The Lady of the orchard was used to the eeriness of the estate in the evening. However she had never been to the ruins at such a late hour before, and certainly not during this time of year. She was scared, but was not going to force the girl to accompany her.
The Lady gathered all the courage she could muster, and stepped out of the orchard’s tree line. The weeds were tall and overgrown past the maintained edge of the orchard, and there was no clear path to the ruins through the dried wild grass.
Surely if someone were walking through here, these dried plants would have been pushed down in a path... She thought to herself. But there was no such path. In fact, the land around the ruins was so overgrown it looked as if the place had not been visited in over a century.
The Lady of the orchard called out into the dusky landscape, wading through the dried foliage: “Is anyone out there? We saw you in the orchard!”
No response. No movement. Not a sound. She continued: “you’re not in trouble, do not worry! I just want to know who you are.. and if you need any help!”
Silence, still. She waited a moment, looking around for a sign of any life.
The Lady of the orchard stared up at the crumbled top of the ruined stone tower, where the remnants of a window were. The stones were stained with aged moss and filth that looked as if it were dripping down the sides of the building for an eternity. She wondered what the building may have looked like in its own time, and what the old inhabitants’ lives were like.
Suddenly, the wind howled through the void of the ruins, and a picture of a great medieval castle appeared in her mind’s eye. The place was wholly kept up, and filled with people. Noble knights and ladies, children, guests and servants; everyone in old garb, celebrating a full harvest and prepping for the Wassail offering to the orchard’s trees. Everyone seemed happy, communing with each other and the nature all around them. Longing stirred within the Lady of the orchard, and a deeply buried lonesome part of her wished she were there with them in that moment.
Just as soon as the vision entered her mind, it was gone. Back to just her, standing in front of the decrepit old ruin.
What happened to leave you in such a state, oh ancient one? The Lady asked in her mind.
She stood for a while more, but she’d nearly had enough. If there was anyone out here, surely they have moved on by now. The Lady decided. No sign of any presence other than my imagined one. No footprints. Not even the sound of a footstep or rustling plant. Just me and the remnants of the past.
Even though she had all but given up on her pursuit, the Lady’s sense of unease had not gone away. In fact, her hair was standing on end even more so than before, and she wanted to go back to her home as soon as possible.
There’s something not right in the complete silence of nature, she thought. Do the birds know something we do not, so they are moved to silence? Why are the hares not eating the fallen apples under the trees? Why is an old ruin’s memory more lively than the nature surrounding it?... I need to get back home...
On the verge of panic, she quickly turns around and rushes back into the orchard’s treeline, only to find that the mill girl was gone, and had taken her fire-poker too.
“Oh that menace of a girl! How could she leave me out here and take my only defense?” The Lady asked herself aloud. Fear increasing, she immediately starts running back through the trees towards the Georgian house. As she runs she feels the wind pick up again, this time blowing down the hill and through the orchard, back towards the ruins.
“It’s pushing me back!” Yells the Lady. Terrified, she refuses to look anywhere but directly in front of her. She pushes harder and runs faster, her dress flowing in the wind as she runs up the row of trees.
Reaching the end, she bursts out of the orchard. The wind stops, but she does not, even for a moment. She dashes up the hill to her house faster than she had ever moved before. Upon reaching the threshold, she slams the door open and shut in one swift move, locking it behind her immediately.
It was completely dark now that the sun had set fully behind the horizon, but the warm glow of the fireplace was a safe haven of comfort. Exhausted, the Lady of the orchard stumbles over to the hearth, and picks up her fallen teacup. Kicking off her boots, she plunks back down in her chair to rest, noting her old English Setter had not moved an inch since she had been gone. As her adrenaline wears off, she falls into a deep sleep, not stirring until morning.
Morning
When the Lady of the orchard woke up the next day to the glare of morning light shining onto her face, she had nearly forgotten about what happened the night prior, as she had no dreams and no thoughts upon waking. She only remembered what had occurred when she leaned forward to get the coals going in the fireplace again, and noted the missing fire-poker.
Where… where’s my poker…? Oh… The mill girl! The ruins! As it all came rushing back to her, she immediately jumped up to put on her coat and boots, then swiftly ran out the door.
Once outside, she grabbed her frost-covered bicycle from around the side of the house, and took off down the dirt road towards the cider mill. The morning was cold, but the light from the sun warmed her back as she peddled forward.
Reaching the end of the main road, the Lady pulls into the front garden of the cider mill and jogs over to the house behind it. The mill family was making breakfast, and the scent of freshly cooked eggs and sausages rose out of the chimney, so all seemed to be well.
The Lady of the orchard knocks on the door, and who else would answer but the mill girl.
“Oh it’s you!” The girl seemed genuinely relieved to see the Lady of the orchard. “I ummm... I’m sorry for leaving you by the ruins yesterday evening. I got too frightened… I just wanted to go home…” she said to the Lady, looking down at her shoes shamefully.
“It’s fine. Though I was frightened too, you know!” The Lady replied, grimacing. “Especially since you took my fire-poker with you when you left!”
“Fire-poker?... Oh you mean the metal pointy thing you gave me? I did not take that! I left it in the orchard where I was before I came back here to the mill house.” The girl stated plainly.
Surprised, the Lady replied: “Oh! I see... Sorry to have blamed you. That's why I came calling, to check on you and get my poker back...” She shifted uncomfortably, turning to leave, as her mind began to ponder. Why then, was it gone? Who took it?
“Wait!” yells the mill girl. “We finished the first batch of cider this morning...” She turns around and excitedly grabs a bottle off the kitchen work table. “Here, first bottle goes to the Lady of the orchard!” the girl says with a smile, pushing the bottle towards the Lady.
“Ah! Thank you, it looks delightful.” The Lady says, uncorking the bottle to inhale the smooth apple scent. She puts the bottle in her deep coat pocket and says her farewells. “Well, hopefully the fire-poker turns up... Enjoy your breakfast!”
Walking back to her bicycle, the Lady’s heart began pounding in her chest, and her mind raced. Maybe there really was someone in the orchard last night... Could they have taken the fire-poker? She goes through the motions of mounting her bicycle as her thoughts preoccupy her mind. If they had... they would have been right behind me when I was in the tall grass by the ruins! And I hadn’t a clue!
She rides back to the orchard as fast as she can, terrified and curious at the thought of what evidence she might find from last night’s events.
As she reaches the end of the road at the bottom of the hill, a huge gust of wind blows through the orchard, sending dry leaves and dirt flying. The bicycle comes to a halt, the Lady dismounts and lets it fall to the ground.
Looking into the waving branches of the trees towards the tower ruins, fear grasps her for just a moment, but she is braver in the light of day than she was the night prior.
The Lady walks into the row of trees, towards the spot she stood before; looking for any sign of the fire-poker, or whoever took it. As she walked, the wind grew angrier, wailing through the branches. Eventually, she could not see or hear anything else through the increasingly furious blusters.
“Why are you so upset?!” The Lady shouts into the orchard. “Have I not been a good steward to you?”
The wind groans more in response, sending tree debris flying around her.
Suddenly, something heavy thwaps through the air, and hits the Lady of the orchard in the back of the head, knocking her clean out. She falls to the ground, and the unforgiving winds blow dust through her hair and clothes.
After a time of nothing but darkness, the Lady’s mind is thrust back into her vision of the past. The sun is shining bright, and the orchard is once again full of people in old garments, singing and pouring cider on the roots of the apple trees. She finds herself laying in the ancient orchard where she fell, and no one there seems to notice her.
She gets up and walks towards the castle, seeing that it’s in its full glory, once again unruined. It is large and grand to behold, with banners, sconces, and festive garlands decorating its strong stone walls. Likewise, the orchard in the vision is much larger and grander than in her time, stretching in every direction around the castle as far as she could see. The atmosphere is lively with music and laughter, and the Lady smiles at the thought of living in such a communally rich time.
My, the orchard has not seen this level of merriment for some time... She thinks to herself. As she walks, the Lady reflects on how industrial progress had completely changed the orchard, her business, and what she prioritized over the decades. The Wassail had been replaced with pesticides like Paris-green, and tending to the trees had become increasingly mechanized. She sighs at the very thought. Something in her yearned for the old ways.
She stops walking at the entrance of the castle and looks back at the orchard behind her, only to be confronted by a figure standing there, staring her down.
Its a woman… Can she see me? Startled, the Lady of the orchard looks closely at the figure, and notices familiar features. Pale skin… dark hair… old-style chemise dress… Could this be the figure that the mill girl saw in the orchard?!
Lips trembling, the Lady of the orchard asks the figure: “was that… you… in the orchard last night?”
The figure does not respond.
Timidly, the Lady queries her again. “Do… Do you know what happened here… to this place?”
The figure responds this time. She raises a jeweled pewter goblet in her hand, and tips it over. Only a few drops of cider spill out, disappearing into thin air as they fall.
“…Forgotten.” The figure whispers in a hoarse tone as she makes eye contact with the Lady of the orchard. Her eyes are dark and sunken, glistening with tears.
She drops the goblet on the ground at her feet and it shatters, transforming into a small pile of coins and metal scraps. The grass immediately dries out and the ground rots beneath the metallic pile, as each piece sinks into the earth. The colors of the vision change from bright to dull, the sky grows dark, and everyone disappears into a cloud of fog. The orchard shrinks and withers before the Lady, and all that’s left is the mysterious figure and the ruined castle.
The figure kneels to the ground, and weeps. Each tear that falls onto the soil sends out a burst of light, but just for a moment.
The Lady of the orchard can’t help but shed a tear herself, having watched the once abundant orchard shrink, the castle decay, and all the life that was once there be whisked away.
“I think… I think I know what you want from me.” She says under her breath.
In that moment the vision disappears entirely, and the Lady finds her mind in darkness once again. Hours pass as she lies unconscious in the row of trees.
~❦~❦~❦~
The Lady’s eyes ease open, as the afternoon rays of light shine down onto her face through the apple trees. She sits up slowly, looking around the orchard, still a bit dazed from being knocked out. She notices that the wind had become still again, and the animals had returned to the orchard to eat the leftover fruit. She could hear birds chirping, insects buzzing, and hares chewing away.
Relief spreads over her face, and she lets out a sigh as she relaxes her posture. Her fingertips graze something in the dirt beside her, and she looks down to see the fire-poker next to where her head just lay.
The Lady of the orchard pauses in thought for a moment before reaching into her coat pocket. She pulls out the bottle of cider, miraculously unbroken, and uncorks it. The sweet smell of apple juice and fragrant spice fills the air, and she inhales deeply before rolling onto her side and pouring some cider on the roots of the tree beside her.
The dry soil happily accepts the offering, swallowing it up swiftly. The Lady stands up and does the same for another tree, and then another, in the same manner she saw the people do in her vision of the past.
As she works her way through the orchard she hears a bird singing its song and decides to join in, humming an old tune of her own from days long past.