The Bone Candle

For Jane S

With thanks for the books, the cake and, well, everything really

‘How is the soup?’ Julia enquires anxiously.

I smile at her. ‘Quite delicious.’

‘You don’t think there’s a touch too much pepper?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Only I was slightly concerned that–’

I laugh. ‘Julia, it is perfect in every way. You have no idea how wonderful it is to sit at a normal dining table with silver cutlery, fine china and adult conversation instead of eating in a nursery.’

Julia visibly relaxes. ‘Of course. I always forget how different the life of a governess is to that of a married lady.’

I disguise my wince with a smile. From anyone else, that might be a jibe, but not from Julia. She’s as sweet natured now as when we were children. I know she means no unkindness, and I’m pleased she’s found such a happy home with Lord Mark Buckdon.

‘Will you read us a bedtime story tonight, Aunt Beatrice?’ Toby asks eagerly.

‘Hush,’ Mark says sternly. ‘Your aunt has only just left a host of troublesome children behind. Let her rest.’

‘I don’t mind, honestly,’ I insist.

‘I have a story I can tell her,’ Rupert says with a grin. Rupert is the eldest child, but only by a few minutes. Despite being twins, you couldn’t imagine two more different brothers. Where Rupert is outspoken, Toby is shy; Rupert is mischievous, Toby is cautious. And always Rupert lords it over his brother, winning at everything and giving Toby no quarter, whether it is cards or a foot race. Their antipathy towards each other is the only dark spot in this otherwise sunny family home.

‘What story is that?’ I ask.

Rupert drops his voice to a whisper. ‘The Bone Candle.’

‘That is not a suitable story for the dinner table,’ Mark reprimands.

‘And you’ll scare Madeleine,’ Toby says, seizing the opportunity to admonish his brother.

Rupert rolls his eyes. ‘You’re not scared, are you, Maddy?’ Their little sister shakes her head, but nevertheless clutches her dolly tighter. I am about to intercede and suggest he could tell me later when Rupert launches into his tale. ‘It’s an old family legend. A witch cursed our family, back in the sixteen-hundreds. They hanged her from the great oak outside the house. But before they pushed her off the scaffold, she laid a curse on this family and swore that she’d visit death upon Lord Buckdon’s descendants. She said she’d hunt them in the dark, and not even the light would save them. She promised Lord Buckton would remained unharmed. His family’s curse was to die, she said, and his curse was to watch them do so. Then she jumped.’

‘Rupert, you’re frightening Maddie,’ Julia says, a slight quiver to her voice.

‘No he’s not,’ Madeleine pipes up. Her eyes are wide with interest.

‘You see, when they cut down her body the next day, all ten of her fingers were missing. Somehow her finger bones had been placed inside candles around the house. The witch’s ghost would haunt the family at night and if anyone lit a bone candle to investigate, the eldest child would die.’

‘And then they threw away all the candles, I suppose?’ I say, hoping to draw the tale to a non-frightening conclusion.

‘There were only three left when the spell was uncovered. Lord Buckdon didn’t want to throw them away, fearful that someone could use them against his family, so he wrapped a slip of red ribbon around each candle then locked them in a chest. Papa has the key, don’t you?’

‘I do. And I’m not telling you where it is,’ he added in a voice that indicated this was a familiar argument.

‘I wish you would.’ Toby’s voice is low and cruel. I’ve never heard him speak like that before. ‘Then I could light one and we’d all be free of Rupert.’

‘Toby, don’t say such things,’ says Julia, rubbing her temples. Toby glares at his brother who grins back maliciously.

After dinner, we retire to the parlour. Mark reads a book, Madeleine sits before the fire playing with her doll, and the boys are ordered to complete their homework, which they do with varying degrees of complaint. Julia and I sit side-by-side on the sofa, comparing our needlework. At one point, Toby leaves the room. I think nothing of it until the parlour door slams open and he strides in, brandishing a painted canvas.

‘You monster! It was you, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?’ he yells, advancing on his brother.

Rupert holds his hands up and backs away. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘This!’ Toby shakes the canvas. It is a picture of the view from the boys’ bedroom, but marred by a deep slash and the imprint of a boot. ‘I painted it for Aunt Beatrice. You ruined it.’

‘I did not,’ Rupert says hotly. Mark clears his throat meaningfully. Rupert adds sheepishly, ‘Well, not deliberately.’

‘You fiend!’ Toby throws the painting at his brother.

‘It was an accident!’ Rupert cries, ducking. ‘I was practicing my drop kicks and the rugby ball knocked your stupid painting off.’

‘Then how come it has a dirty great footprint in the centre of it?’

‘I stood on it, when I was retrieving my ball. It had gone under the dresser and–’

‘Liar! You destroyed it on purpose.’

In a calm but cold voice, Mark says, ‘Think carefully, Rupert. Either you did it on purpose, for which you will be punished, or you were practicing rugby inside the house which you know I have strictly forbidden. So which is it?’

The guilty silence is broken by Madeleine’s sing-song voice. ‘Ru-pert’s in trou-ble.’

‘Go to your room, young man,’ Mark says. ‘We shall discuss this in the morning.’

As Rupert walks away, head bowed, Toby calls after him, ‘You’re a brute! I wish you had never been born!’

Julia sighs. ‘That is a very unkind thing to say.’

Toby whirls round. ‘I don’t care. I’m going to make him pay. I am.’

He storms off. Julia half-rises, but Mark shakes his head. ‘Best let this burn itself out.’

The atmosphere is tense for a while, but when neither of the boys return and no angry voices drift down the stairs, Julia and I fall back into sisterly conversation. When the clock strikes seven, Madeleine gets up and kisses her parents goodnight before heading out the door.

‘She puts herself to bed?’ I ask, astonished.

‘Indeed’ says Julia proudly. ‘She’s very independent and resourceful.’

Mark looks over the top of his book. ‘I often think she’d make a more level-headed Lord Buckdon than either of the boys.’

Julia laughs. ‘What a fanciful notion.’

‘Fanciful, but true,’ he remarks, before returning to his reading.

Tired after my long journey, I am only too ready to retire when my sister suggests doing so at nine o’clock. ‘Might I give the children a kiss goodnight?’ I ask. Both parents assent.

I look in on Madeleine first. Her arm is curled around her dolly, her thumb in her mouth. I kiss her golden curls then head to the boys’ room. Both are in bed and apparently asleep. I am surprised to see a candle burning by Rupert’s bed. I would have thought they left nightlights behind when they moved out of the nursery. I move forward to give him a kiss and stop dead. A coldness seizes my heart. The candle has a thin red ribbon tied around it.

I lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘Rupert!’ I whisper urgently. ‘Are you awake? Rupert? Wake up. Wake up, please.’ I shake him. He is as cold and limp as a dead rabbit. ‘Julia! Mark! Come quickly!’

In the other bed, Toby sits up, rubbing his eyes. ‘What is it?’

‘Tobias,’ I say in anguish, ‘what have you done?’

Toby looks at me, horrified and afraid, but before he can answer, Julia and Mark charge through the door. I stand back and they rush forward. They shake Rupert, calling his name over and over, but his pale head merely lolls about.

Tobias is sobbing but I cannot bring myself to comfort him. I back out of the room and nearly stumble over Madeleine who is peeping through the door. ‘Go back to bed sweetheart,’ I say urgently. She obediently does so.

I tuck her in, my hands working without engaging my brain which is frozen with shock and grief. I kiss her curls again, holding back a sob, and head for the door. Before I close it, I hear her whisper from the darkness. ‘One down, Dolly. One to go.’

The Bone Candle

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