The Green Lady Read online

The Green Lady

  by Benjamin Parsons

  Copyright 2014 Benjamin Parsons

  * * *

  On overcast days, at the turning times of the year, I sometimes grow wistful, and pine for rural quiet and lonely ruins. Mists and dripping branches, soaking greenswards and the chirrups of chilly blackbirds occupy all my thoughts, and I cannot be content until I have escaped from the city.

  When seized with this half-melancholy, half-cosy longing for solitude, dark skies and romantic edifices, I remember that, if I take a train from London Bridge, I can be transported in a mere matter of four hours or so (and two changes) to the branch-line station at Brackley, a modest little nowhere on the south coast. Three miles from thence, Brackley Castle stands against the sea.

  I often think of it there, and plot excursions to this atmospheric getaway. I imagine myself stroaming, as I have done in years gone by, around the ancient curtain wall, and gazing up at the turrets. A sort of Radcliffe-enthusiasm overwhelms me then, which makes my heart quail in awe as I survey the massy towers, the tremendous gatehouse and the sublime, decayed fabric of the whole, while listening to the crushing roar of the breakers that neverendingly accost the crumbling crags of the almost beetling cliff upon which the castle rises.

  So I sit and sigh, listening to the traffic, and resolve again and again that, at the very next opportunity I will take that train, a copy of Udolpho, and indulge myself. But then it always happens that the weather improves, the sun begins to shine with brash cheerfulness, and I set aside my dreams of Brackley Castle for another day.

  However, pondering on those venerable stones inclines me recount the story of the Green Lady, for, as you must know, every castle, abbey, or antique manor house worth the name must have a bleeding nun, headless cavalier or shrieking banshee in residence, and Brackley Castle is fully equipped with its own Green Lady.

  The property passed through the Hargrave family for sixteen generations until, falling into the lap of Miss Elizabeth Hargrave, it promptly passed out of Hargraveship altogether, when she married Hamish Evering. Elizabeth argued for some time to get a double barrel, but the couple quarrelled so furiously throughout their engagement over whether it should be Hargrave-Evering, or Evering-Hargrave, that no decision was made, and when the dispute threatened to end itself in the dissolution of the relationship, the lady was obliged to yield, and so the Hargraves of Brackley Castle are no more.

  One October evening— let’s say Halloween, for amusement’s sake— Hamish was making his way down to Brackley from the metropolis, driven by a good friend. Hamish, a blonde, foppish fellow, was a little too old for his boyish looks, but still a little too boyish to qualify for manish looks.

  ‘Why are you going back to her?’ asked his friend Max, a dark haired, green-eyed, handsome specimen, and well aware of it. ‘Wait, let me guess, though: a wife —even yours— suddenly seems very appealing when your mistress ditches you. Any warm body in bed’s better than a cold pillow.’

  ‘I ended it with her,’ objected Hamish then, sticking out his chin.

  ‘Oh! Of course.’

  ‘I did!’

  ‘I said “of course”, didn’t I?’

  ‘You had a sarcastic look in your eye!’

  ‘It’s a natural squint, I assure you. How could I possibly be sarcastic about you ending it with her?’

  ‘But I did!’

  ‘Enough, that’s it!’ laughed Max. ‘You’re so ready to protest you did end it, that it’s fairly proved you didn’t. Whoever heard of a man leaving his mistress for his wife? That’s all back to front.’

  ‘But it’s true, no matter what you insinuate. I finished with her in no uncertain terms —in fact, I think I was a little too harsh about it. She sobbed and carried on for four days.’

  ‘Then you must have destroyed all her hopes— and I’ll bet her hopes were exactly what destroyed your feelings for her, too— she wanted you to get a divorce, yes?’

  ‘Of course, they always do. And I said no.’

  ‘Of course, you always do. Anything rather than leave Bess and her money.’

  Hamish flared up in outrage. ‘I love my wife!’

  ‘Well done,’ smiled Max, ‘and after all, why not? I’d love her too, if I was in the will.’

  Hamish huffed and folded his arms. ‘You’ll not rise me, Max. You know money’s got nothing to do with it —I’ve always loved Elizabeth.’

  ‘And I suppose that’s what you told Genna —no wonder she cried her heart out for so long.’

  ‘There’s no use in trying to make me feel worse about it, I’m already miserable enough as it is. She was almost hysterical— I even thought she’d do herself an injury.’

  ‘Then you deserve to be miserable,’ observed Max then. ‘You’ve been with Elizabeth for how long —fifteen years?’

  ‘Sixteen and a half.’

  ‘And married for three, and all that time you’ve done nothing but battle and berate each other. You’ve both been taking lovers as a form of attack ever since I’ve known you, and Genna’s just the latest casualty of war. Bess gets her revenge on you by running off with Tom, Dick and Harry, and you get your revenge on her by running off with Jilly, Jenny and Sally! Don’t you know there are better ways of giving and getting affection than working up each other’s jealousy?’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ pouted Hamish, frowning to himself.

  ‘No, it’s much worse!’ countered Max. ‘Because you don’t just hurt yourselves, you hurt all the poor fools who get dragged into it, as well. But now I really think it’s gone too far, my old friend. These love-games were all fair sport before you were married, but now it’s very different. Now the stakes are much higher. It used to be screaming matches and sentimental make-ups; now it’s divorce courts, settlements and legal bills. I thought you were serious when you two tied the knot?’

  ‘We were —we are serious. But Elizabeth— well, she— we had a fight, and—’

  ‘—You had recourse to your old habit, and found a mistress. Oh, why did you get married at all? You’ve only made it harder on yourselves. Think about it, Hamish— every misdemeanour nowadays strengthens her case against you if she demands a divorce.’

  ‘It’s clear you mean to put me in a bad mood. But we can’t all have your luck with women, Max.’

  ‘Luck? I’ve not been with anyone for a week!’ he protested.

  ‘That’s only because you were with a different anyone every night last week!’

  ‘Well, if that’s true it isn’t luck, Hamish, it’s judgement. I like to think it’s a talent to keep seven girls on the go at once. It would be very painful to my ego to call it luck!’

  ‘You’ll need a lot more judgement to stay happy with one woman than seven,’ advised Hamish. ‘Loving and leaving’s easy, compared to loving and staying.’

  ‘I’m surprised you say so, since Genna wailed for four whole days when you loved-and-left her,’ replied Max with an arch look. ‘And as to keeping one woman happy, instead of the harem you seem to imagine I keep, when it comes to that, I’ll get plenty of judgement by learning from your mistakes with Bess.’

  ‘Why am I listening to this? Why am I in this car with you?’ cried Hamish wildly. ‘I thought I was here with my best friend, not my moral conscience!’

  Max laughed. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help speaking my mind —but you know I’m no-one to moralise. It’s all pure cynicism, believe me.’

  ‘The trouble with you always speaking your mind, Max, is that there’s very little in your mind worth listening to!’ Hamish retorted, re-shuffling his pride. ‘But to go back to your original question on the last roundabout, I’m going back to Elizabeth because she’s sick. Quite badly too. I’ve been— sort of— summoned.’

  ‘I s
ee! And what’s wrong with her?’

  ‘I don’t know— without doubt it’s less than it’s made out to be— but I have to go to her.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the will.’

  ‘Don’t start all that again!’

  ‘Alright, alright, I withdraw the knife without another twist. But tell me this: why were you so eager for me to come along to this death-bed reconciliation?’

  ‘You were summoned too. Mina said you must come.’

  ‘Mino! Then there’s mischief.’

  ‘What do you mean? I said Min-a.’

  ‘And I said Min-o— I always add the O, it helps me make up my mind about her. Her and me? No! Mino. But what’s she got to do with this?’

  ‘It was Mina who called me and asked me down —she’s Elizabeth’s cousin, you know, and they’re very close. Mina’s been taking care of her.’

  ‘I bet she has —she’ll take care of us all, if she has her way— and she asked for me specifically, you say?’

  ‘Yes. But why don’t you like her? I’ve never heard a bad opinion of her before.’

  ‘She wouldn’t let you hear one! She’s much too clever for that.’

  ‘I’m surprised at this attitude from you,