Haddon Hall

After reaching the top of the stairs, the man adjusted his pack on his shoulder. He noticed the chain was down and considered latching it back up. He decided not to interfere, which normally led to messing up someone else's plans. He them assumed the persona of the distracted tourist and wandered off, looking this way and that, getting lost in examining all the fascinating things in Haddon House. But it wasn't difficult, for there were many fascinating things in Haddon House. Tom, that is Thomas Johnson, for that was his name, much regretted being born in the new world, for he had a love of very old things. Ancient or Medieval structures and settings interested him most, but it was what these things conjured up in his mind about people that captivated his imagination. He wondered what they were like and how they thought, and going back in time to meet some, had long been a recurent fantasy, that he played like a film in his mind.
Making his way slowly to the exit, he dropped some change in the restoration donation box and headed for the Cafe. After ordering his first pot of tea, he sat at a corner table, back to the wall and set up his Notebook, but to his dismay, could not locate a Hotspot.

(writus interruptus!)

Halfwise calls me Figgy, so you can call me that if you like.

Am I really the only one who calls you Figgy?
I guess I'm just not as respectable as the others.....

(Hmmm... Mrs Figgy Figgs... Idk. I do think 'Figgy' works well as the nick actually used, if Halfwise doesn't mind sharing that is, but for the story technicalities, how about Mrs Fiona Figgs ? I am still writing down the initial 'storyline' I came up with, btw. What is concieved in the mind quickly, takes so long to write, but I am getting near to the end, which will be having introduced your and my characters and then introducing them to each other in the story. I haven't thought yet beyond that so it's terra incognito. I was looking to position you so as you could then have independant movement. I really like your suggestion of things occurring in multiple times or planes. So for example we might both be in Haddon House in different centuries. The lines between must be blurred however, for you can transition between them, and I have considered that occurring myself, but to yet another time related to my storyline, which would be around the time of the Boudica's revolt. With luck I will get the rest written on here today. )

I think Fiona Figgs sounds like a very proper English mystery novel name.

And I don't mind sharing 'Figgy', given as I thought it was so obvious I just assumed everyone was doing it.

halfwise wrote:I think Fiona Figgs sounds like a very proper English mystery novel name.

And I don't mind sharing 'Figgy', given as I thought it was so obvious I just assumed everyone was doing it.

Splendid! Then it's almost settled. Hopefully Mrs Figgs will approve. If not, I guess I could fall back on the second choice, Mrs Figula Flotsam-Figgleworth.

er no, Figgy will do fine he he!

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That is quite a place. Beautiful setting. I can see why you like it. But lol, I do not always remember that words have different meanings here & there. I was thinking 'house' in American terms and this is more like a castle!

Halfwise, I was wondering if you might not mind taking on a character in the story? It is at the moment just a backround character that popped up, but more might be done with it.

'Oh well..' Tom thought, letting out a breath of air heavily. He would have liked to check in with Halfwise and shared what he had seen. 'I'll do my notes at least, while things are fresh in my mind' he thought, and took a sip of tea.

The abrupt and short burst of a police car's siren gave him a start, and he spilled a bit of tea. He wondered what had brought police to Haddon House. It seemed very unusual. 'Could it be someone spotted me and reported an intruder ?' he pondered. Nervously, he tried to clean the the spill nonchalantly, and resisted the temptation to go to the window. 'The best hiding place is in plain site' he repeated to himself silently, and hoping it was true. 'Blast these nerves!' he fumed inwardly. 'Some spy I make'. But then he mentally reassured himself with his usual argument, that determination can overcome many obstacles and not to blame himself for being a bit jumpy. His makeup and experiences were more then justification for that. So, forcing himself to relax, he ordered more tea, and set to work at his notes.

Minutes, then half an hour passed, and going outside for a breath of fresh air, he was relieved to see the policeman get in his car and leave. Shortly afterward a woman came out of the house, and made a beeline for the cafe. It was the woman he'd seen in the basement. She'd been all green in his night vision glasses but now looked flushed, as if upset. She was evidentally distracted as well, for she was looking down and was about to plow right into him. He dodged to the side at the last moment and got out a quick 'Hello'. But she passed by and went into the cafe without a word. With a glance back at the shrinking police car, he went in behind her.

Tom saw her head straight for the counter and so he returned to his seat in the corner. Poking at his computer he watched her under his brows. She ordered some kind of beer or ale and sat alone on the opposite side of the cafe. As he watched she downed the drink fairly quickly, and ordered another. Screwing up his courage he stood and walked accross the space to her table. She was staring out the window, lost in thought when he arrived and she hadn't seemed to notice him.

'Excuse me Ma'am', he started, but then briefly fumbled...

'Yes?" she replied, finally looking at him.

'Umm...I saw you downstairs in the basement of the house and was curious about what you had seen of the excavation' Tom said.

'How did you know I was downstairs?" she responded, now looking at him suspiciously.

'I was down there too, but in a niche off to the side.' he said a bit apologetically, and then quickly added, 'I saw you pass by.'

'What were you doing down there?' she said sharply.

Tom hesitated a moment, and then making a fast judgement said, 'Spying'.

The Portrait.

I felt a bit awkward standing there with the house steward and was wondering how I could politely take my leave when a tall man walked in from the garden and made his way towards us, the woman with the glasses beckoned to him, "Harry" she said, "something quite unusual has happened, we seem to have found Lady Litton alive and well after 500 years" she laughed and Harry laughed too, he had seemed quite severe but his smile was kind of goofy and it put me at ease, "This is Harry our resident restorer and tour guide" she said, "so he knows Lady Litton better than most" "Perhaps you would like to join our tour of the House" he said, "I am sure you would find it interesting, are you from these parts? Harry had a pleasant Welsh accent, probably more Northern Welsh I thought. I explained that I didnt really like be herded round but preferred to do my own thing, Harry nodded and smiled, "well he said, "if you need any information I will be in the Great Hall doing my daily talk and tourist herding bit". He walked off his auburn hair glowing red in the shafts of sunlight. "Harry is the heir of Haddon", the steward said. Oh bugger I thought, why do I always put my foot in it.

She walked off leaving me alone in the hall, then very faintly I heard a tap tap tap coming from near the fireplace, I strained to hear but the tapping got louder and louder, bits of dust and plaster started to flake off from under the mantle piece, there was a boss in the shape of a rose in the middle which seemed to be vibrating and the edges were coming free from centuries of dust and polish. Thats odd I thought, I wonder if its hollow, looking round to make sure no one was coming, I stepped over the rope separating the tourists from the furniture, and in my turn tapped on the fireplace, it was huge and made of dark wood, tapping I found that it was indeed hollow in places, the wooden rose now looked to be in the centre of the hollow part, so I did what any curious person would do, I turned it to see what would happen.
It turned with a creak and a loud scraping, a door opened slowly inwards from the chimneybrest and a large amount of stale air rushed forwards filling my nostrils with a musty dampness that was full of the smell of dark cellars and gave me goosbumps. The entrance was pitch black and stone steps could be seen spiralling down to who knew where. So I did what any curious person with no sense would do and steped down into the unknown.

not really in theme but I like the picture, it seems a bit Elven..

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"Splendid! Then it's almost settled. Hopefully Mrs Figgs will approve. If not, I guess I could fall back on the second choice, Mrs Figula Flotsam-Figgleworth."

...somebody's been reading too much P.G. Wodehouse.

Not sure what you mean by "take on a character". I'm happy to be used as a character, but shall not be contributing in a literary sense. No time. In fact a set of Petty's edits has been sitting on my computer for the last two weeks and almost certainly will still be sitting there for the next two.

'And what did you see?' Mrs Figgs responded, but not as sharply as before.

Tom glanced quickly over at his laptop, and then asked "Will you join me at my table ? I can tell you about it and perhaps show you some things, but I am afraid to leave my laptop unattended over there.' nodding in it's dirrection. Mrs Figg followed his glance, and then nodded in assent.

They went over to Tom's table and Tom seated himself not behind the laptop, but in the chair next. Mrs Figg, carrying her drink, seated herself opposite to him.

'I know what you saw.' Mrs Figg announced suddenly. To which Tom responded with a quizzacal expression.
'But that is not what I saw... at least not the first time.' she continued.

'OK, tell me then?' answered Tom, putting his hands together on the table and leaning forward.

Mrs Figg studied his face for a moment. He had sharper features, which some called craggy, but large dark brown eyes and brows. The eyes were warm now, and open. He had short lighter brown hair and a short kept mustache which was light brown and white mixed.

Making her own decision, she asked 'Do you believe in Ghosts, Mr...?'

'Johnson' Tom replied. 'Actually Tom, John's son' he added with a small grin. 'And you are?' he added.

'Figgy' she replied.

Tom then took in a deep breath. 'I have never seen one myself, Figgy, or positive proof of one, so I am cautious, to be honest. But on the other hand I sense something is there beyond what we can touch and see. Or at least the heart part of me does, as opposed to the mind part.'

This seemed to satisfy Figgy, for she then told Tom what had happened, when she went down the dark cooridor in the basement. Tom asked a quick question or two during her narrative, but for the most part remained silent, following along with expressions of surprise or alarm at the various parts. She also told how when the policeman arrived they had all gone down and found things all different, like what Tom must have seen. They had found her purse, where she'd dropped it by the crypt and they had told her she must have dreamed it after she had fainted. 'But I know it wasn't a dream' Figgy said adamantly. 'Dreams can seem real, but reality never seems like a dream, and this was reality. So what do you think then ?' she asked, 'Have I gone balmy ?'

'No, not balmy... like in gone nuts.' Tom answered. 'But I have no explanation for it, unless they somehow altered the scene quickly, like replaced the statue, etc.'

'I looked for signs of that' responded Figgy. 'But the stone around it looked undisturbed, like it had been for hundreds of years.'

'Can we leave it as an open question then, for now ?' inquired Tom, and he continued, 'for something unusual is going on in Haddon House. We have evidence pointing to it, and the dig site itself must be examined still.'

'So what are you doing here then, and who is we?' Figgy said, leaning back and taking a sip of her drink.

Very nice picture Figgy. I have always liked that romantic style, which seems to blend in with the spirit of woodlands. They can keep their deserts, and plains and jungles. No place feels like home like the woods. But actually it may blend in quite well, for a am playing with an ancient period as an idea for one of the time settings which ties to my own reason for coming to Haddon House. I apologize for taking so long to get thru this part. This was all part on my initial concieved 'starting point'. I have only one section left to do. Not sure I will complete it today, but will be tommorrow certainly if not. Btw, the elves mention is interesting. I have thought about the historical origin of the elves myths, if myths they were. Nothing magical, but rather some people's in the far north known for mystical reputation. I don't know much about it yet, but it may be they used women shamans to awe and frighten neighboring tribes.

That will work Halfwise. You can see what happens and feel free to jump in if you get the urge at some point. I haven't read Wodehouse, but have heard the name.

Tom smiled and said “you know I have never been able to answer that question quickly. but here’s a start.’ And he reached over and fished something out of the knapsack hanging on the back of the other chair. He handed her a business card.
Figgy took it, and read the title, ‘Thomas Johnson, MSA, MSAA – Antiquities Identification and Appraisel’. ‘Hmm…’ she said. ‘Then you must be very knowledgable about places like this.’
‘No, not really’ Tom replied leaning back with arms crossed now. Actually, I have only been at it a few years.
“And what are these degrees then?’ she asked. ‘It certainly looks impressive.’
‘Purchased’ Tom said, with a little grin. “One of those internet diploma mills, you know, like ‘Bob’s house of 1000 degrees’. You pay by the letter’.
Figgy made a wry face. ‘So then what is this about?’ she said perplexed.
‘What I really am is a kind of thief’, and seeing her furrowed expression, Tom continued quickly, ‘but a good thief’. I locate stolen or looted artifacts and return them to their rightful owner. I use the Appraiser ID as a cover story’.
‘So are you with the police?’ Figgy then asked, not quite believing.
‘Well no. I do not work for the police, if that is what you mean.’ Tom said, and then continued. I am basically a Private Investigator, and specialize on stolen artifacts. Though in some cases I do make contact with local police. I prefer however, working behind the scenes directly with Museums, Owners and such.’
“And you get paid for this?’ Figgy asked
“Rarely.” Tom answered with a sad expression.
“You said you haven’t been doing this long. What did you do before that?” Figgy asked.
“Was in the military.” Tom answered. “Army and Air Force. And while I have always been interested in these things, really it was seeing the looting going on in Iraq after the invasion, that put it in my head to try and recover some things.’
“I see’ said Figgy. ‘But this is a long way from Iraq.’
“Yes it is, and a lot pleasanter I can tell you.” Tom replied emphatically. ‘I actually came to England, on another case that is tied back to there. But I quickly ran into a dead end, and was put on another case, since I was in the area.’
“Put on the case by who?” Figgy asked. “I thought you worked alone.”
“Dorkus.” Tom said, smiling again. And Figgy just gave him a sidewards look.
“It’s just the nick of an Internet Cell that assists me greatly” Tom explained. “they have become quite interested in it since I first approached them a few years back, and now sort of manage the operation. They also help pay some of the costs, which I greatly appreciate. There may even be others like me in the field. I do not know.”
“And the case you are working on now is Haddon House? Figgy asked.
“Yes.” Tom replied nodding. “Here, let me show you.” And he reached for the laptop.

Turembar wrote: I haven't read Wodehouse, but have heard the name.

With the name you came up with for our dear Figgy it seemed highly improbable that you hadn't read Wodehouse. He's the inventor of Jeeves - the butler of superior intellect who's always getting his young master out of trouble, though not always entirely to the young master's benefit.

halfwise wrote: With the name you came up with for our dear Figgy it seemed highly improbable that you hadn't read Wodehouse. He's the inventor of Jeeves - the butler of superior intellect who's always getting his young master out of trouble, though not always entirely to the young master's benefit.

No, I haven't read him, but now I know I have heard him, for I have seen some TV episodes of the Jeeves series on PBS. Mystery solved!

...

Tom then brought up a picture on the screen and moved it so Figgy could see it.



'This is what caught our eye first.' said Tom, and then continuing, 'These are very old Briton coins, and quite rare. You see that inscription there' he said pointing. 'It is 'ECE', which is thought to stand for the Iceni tribe, which was the tribe of Queen Boudica'.

'Where are these pictures from? asked Figgy.

"A underground auction site that specializes in selling stolen antiquities", Tom answered.

"So what does that have to do with Haddon House?" Figgy asked. "Boudica was from East Anglica, on the other side of England" she added.

"That we do not know." Tom replied. "But there is some tie to Haddon House, or the people in it. Here look at this." he said, minimizing the first picture and bringing up a second.





"This was among a batch of Elizabethan Jewelry auctioned at Christies in New York." said Tom. "It is hard to establish a date, but it was completely different from the style of the rest of the Jewelry".

When Figgy saw the picture of the Torque, she had a strange feeling and recognition, like she had seen it before, but couldn't place where or when. "So what's the connection?" she asked.

"Well..." Tom began again, "...we don't know who sold the first coins, but they did leave some trace. They failed to remove the camera ID imbedded in the picture. So Dorkus did a routine search then and found the pictures of the Elizabethan Jewelry batch, and this Torque, were taken with the same camera. The auction on Christies was a private listing, which hides the sellers info from the public. This is often done by people in financial trouble, embarrassed at having to sell off family possessions. But Dorkus breezed past that and found the Jewelry was listed by Charles Haddon."

"Interesting" said Figgy trying to absorb the information and what it might mean. "So you think the coins came out of the excavation in the basement? she said finally.

"Possibly." answered Tom. "The fact there is an excavation, and they are attempting to hide it, support the theory. But I need to get into the actual excavation for further evidence."

"Your going back down there!" Figgy said in some alarm.

"Tonite." answered Tom.

"Oh well, you'd never get me back in that house, not to even mention the basement!" she said shaking her head.

"I understand." responded Tom kindly. "If I had seen what you had, I wouldn't either!".

"Well, it's been nice to meet you Mr. Johnson" Figgy said suddenly standing up. "And now I see what you are about I wish you luck. But I must be going now, as it is getting on in time. Goodbye." she said with a little wave.

"Goodbye Figgy" Tom said quickly and with a nod.

Figgy went quickly out to her car, but then just sat behind the wheel for a while. She was mentally exhausted, and turned on some music to steady her nerves. A little while later she saw Tom also come out, get into his car and leave. He swerved crazily upon leaving the parking lot, and Figgy smiled. 'Not drunk, so must not know how to drive on the left side of the road' she thought. She closed her eyes, just for a minute.

Hours later she awoke. She was still in her silent car, now alone in the parking lot. The sun had long set and it was dark. "Damn" she thought. "I feel to bloody sleep!", and she quickly pulled her keys from her bag in the darkness, and thrust them into the ignition. The car wouldn't start. In a rising panic she fumbled for her Cell Phone. She pushed buttons, but nothing happened. It was dead.

Back at his hotel room, Tom wandered the hotel room with his Laptop looking for a Hotspot. Periodically he hit the 'Connect' key, hoping the third time would be a charm, and then the seventh, and then the twenty first... He looked around the room as if he could see it, muttering about useless Hotel Wifis. But finally it went thru, and he rang up Halfwise on Skype.

Fortunately Halfwise was in and a face soon materialized on Tom's screen. It was totally covered in hair like 'Cousin It' in the Adam's family TV show, and wearing glasses. Whether it was real or a wig, Tom did not know, but these Anonymous types were very touchy and one didn't ask them certain types of questions. The face pressed very close to the screen and said, " White Castle Hamburgers " very slowly, and then in a commanding voice, "Give the counter-sign! You have 10 seconds."

"Ten seconds!" Tom wailed. "That's not fair, Halfwise!"

"Six seconds" Halfwise replied stoicly.

Tom's mind raced to find a countersign, trying to block out his panic. If he didn't find the right countersign, Halfwise would cut him off and it would be 24 hrs before he could try again. "Uh, uh, umm, ummm, ummmmm" he stalled verbally, and then he had it! "Black Eyed Peas!" he blurted out.

Halfwise's head tilted slightly, and then pulled back. "Counter-sign verified" he said, and he sounded disappointed. "What have you to report Turembar?" he then asked businesslike.

"Well, I have verified there is a secret dig going on beneath Haddon House. But I have only seen the perimeter and haven't been inside the excavation yet.

"And what are you waiting for?" asked Halfwise.

"Night" replied Tom. "And there is one other thing. A woman also stumbled upon the dig today and called in the police."

"Really?" said Halfwise. "And what happened?"

"Nothing actually" said Tom. "It was very odd. She wasn't reporting the dig per se, but claimed she saw two men in old fashioned clothes burying a woman. But it wasn't in the same spot as the actual digging and when she went down with the police, there were no men, no body, and no grave where she had seen it."

"Turembar" began Halfwise in an annoyed voice. "What kind of cocamamey, horse poop are you babbling about ?"

"OK, never mind" said Tom.

"But... the police were down there and they didn't see anything ? Halfwise asked.

"They saw the digging, but the owners said it was repair work to shore up foundations".

"Oh, yes... the old 'shore up the foundations' story" said Halfwise.

"Anything new on your side Halfwise?" Tom asked.

"Yes. There is this." and Halfwise hit a key on his keyboard. A few seconds later a tone announced the arrival of an e-mail on Tom's Laptop.

Tom opened it up, and then the picture attachment. He let out a long whistle "Whooooooo".

"Interesting isn't it." said Halfwise.

"Very." said Tom nodding. "And from the same camera?" asked Tom.

"Very same." responded Halfwise. "Is there anything else?" he then asked. "Aliens perhaps or maybe Sea Monsters?

"Well, there is just one more thing..." began Tom. "I am running a bit short on funds. You see the extended stay has..."

But Halfwise cut him off. "What do you think I look like? The one percent? Economize Turembar, economize."

"All right, but if..". Tom began to say, but the screen went blank. Halfwise had departed.



'

The Portrait.

Now normally I wouldnt have just walked down a dark creepy secret passage without seriously weighing up the possibilities of getting locked in, falling into a pit, meeting something unsavory, getting covered in cobwebs etc, but this was different, I felt reckless and adventurous, and just like Bilbo Baggins running down the road without a pocket handkerchief, I followed my instinct without thinking things through, obviously if someone had stopped me and asked me what exactly the plan was, I wouldnt have known the answer, I was seriously winging it.
I left the door wedged open and slowly followed the spiralling steps one hand on the damp and mossy stone wall and the other gripping a creaky wooden bannister. Strangely the deeper I went the lighter it got, and the fresher the air, this encouraged me and I decided that there must be a way out below, so feeling much more confident I wasnt entering any oubliant I walked down the steps to the sandy floor. At the bottom in the half light was a series of stone arches, some barred by wooden doors, some open and leading to tunnels festooned with cobwebs, well I wasnt going anywhere near those I decided. At the furthest end was a great door with shafts of light coming from behind little cracks in the wood, the light looked very bright in the gloom and I heaved a small sigh of relief as I had obviously reached the exit point. I turned a heavy bronze handle and it opened with a loud resounding bell like reverberation.

Blimey. I really like my inaugural appearance in this story, and it's diverged in a Two Towerish sort of way. This thematic collaboration will take some thoughtful unravelling to guess where it's going. Don't you folks realize I have work to do!

I opened the door.
My eyes were unused to the brightness of the sunlight and I couldnt see very well for a few minutes, while I waited for the pain behind my eyes to subside I shaded my face with my straw hat, it really was very hot sunlight and there was a perfume of jasmin and roses in the soft breeze. Then I opened my eyes and let out a cry, before me was the most beautiful garden I had ever seen. It was a walled garden full of flowers and herbs, there were apple trees laden with pink blossom and the bees buzzed a lazy melody, tall hollyhocks and delphiniums waved heavy heads and lavender and rosemary rustled as I walked past. There were also fruits and flowers I had never seen before and I wondered what they were, suddenly a flock of white doves flew past whirring their wings, and a woodcock called from the tall trees.
A man with auburn hair walked towards me, it was Harry the tour guide I had met in the Hall, he was wearing what looked like Elizabethan clothes, a doublet, and long boots. He looked like an extra from 'Shakespeare In Love'. I guessed he was doing his tour guide stuff.
"Hello Harry", I said, "you look very dapper, off to guide the tourists?, He was wearing an open shirt and a silver torque shone on his white neck.
He stared at me in surprise and what looked almost like anger.
Obviously I had put my foot in it again.

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"Fortunately Halfwise was in and a face soon materialized on Tom's screen. It was totally covered in hair like 'Cousin It' in the Adam's family TV show, and wearing glasses."

Um...I don't mean to disparage your artistic interpretation of my portrait (my style tends to run to the deep side of impressionism), but those ain't glasses. It's ..(cough)...a mask. You know, Zorro, etc. It's okay, people didn't get Picasso at first either.

And those are feet, not ears. Just being pre-emptive.