She nodded in agreement. “One of their daughters wrote it—the one who bought the house back and stayed until her death many years later. Her daughter had no interest in the house and sold it when her mother died.”
“There could be several reasons why they let you see them the other night. Two, most typically. Either they are trying to reach you and make contact with you, for some unknown reason. Perhaps even because they like you, or had some earlier relationship with you. Or they don’t want you on their turf and are determined to scare you, but it doesn’t sound like that to me. When spirits from another dimension want to frighten people, they’re not shy about it and can really wreak havoc. They don’t sound hostile or ominous to me.”
“They weren’t,” she agreed. “It’s just the idea of them that is unsettling. I’m not even sure that I believe in ghosts. Or I never did before this. But they were extremely real, and stood right next to me. They appeared to be perfectly normal living people, like you and me, and then they disappeared. They just faded away like mist at the top of the stairs.”
“They normally do that extremely well.” He smiled at her. “You see them one minute, appearing quite alive, and then you don’t.”
“The couple who built the house looked entirely alive and smiled at me, and so did the young man. I think he must be their son. There is a portrait of him in uniform.”
“He might have died during the war, so they had him painted in uniform to honor him,” Michael explained. “I have a feeling that they were just comfortable with you, and recognized you as a benign person, so they let you see them. As I said, what’s unusual here is that the entire family still appears to be together, in their home. You don’t hear about that very often. An individual, or a couple occasionally, but not the whole family, including several generations, intact as they were when they occupied the home. They must be a very strong presence to be there over a hundred years later. They may have always remained there, or perhaps they returned more recently, or they may come and go. Their daughter living there for many years would have made remaining there easier for them, and if the house has been unoccupied for many years, that opens the doors for them too. Spirits don’t usually like a busy home, or one where there is too much activity.”
“I don’t want them frightening my children,” Sybil said sternly.
“Of course. Would you mind if I came to visit you? One can often sense what kind of spirit activity is there, and how powerful a force it is. And if they have been there for all this time, they won’t go away easily. You and your family may have to learn to coexist with them.”
“I’m not willing to do that,” Sybil said stubbornly. “I have a six-year-old son who would be traumatized if he ever sees them.”
“You might be surprised. Children are often very receptive to spirits. Their minds are more open than ours.”
“He’s afraid of ghosts,” Sybil insisted. And so was she, now that she had come face to face with them. It was Blake who didn’t believe in them, and thought they were a figment of her imagination. “And a few pieces of furniture have been moved, after I placed them where I wanted them.”
“The phenomenon of moved furniture is fairly typical, particularly if you’re using what was theirs.” He was unimpressed by it. “They may want it all back in its original location, if you’ve placed it differently. Somehow you may have disturbed them, which brought them back en masse, or they are comfortable in your home.”
“I don’t want them to get comfortable. I want them to go away. And if you think it would help to visit the house, by all means come and see it.”
“Would tomorrow work for you?” She nodded. She wanted to find out as much as she could. She was preparing a show for the Brooklyn Museum, but was under no time pressure yet. And she wanted to know more about the Butterfields and make sure they didn’t reappear. They may have been comfortable there, but they were not welcome in her home. She wondered if she should take their portraits down. She asked Michael about it, but he said it wouldn’t change anything, if they were determined to stay in the home, particularly now that they had appeared. She told him it was important to her to get rid of the ghosts in her house, before they drove her and her family away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Michael said pleasantly, as he stood up and ushered her out.
Sybil thought about what he’d said all the way back to the city. In some ways it wasn’t reassuring, although she was happy to know that she was sane. But the fact that whole families who had remained in a home in spirit for a hundred years almost never wanted to leave was not encouraging. At least she was happy he didn’t think they were trying to terrorize them or drive them away. But she had no intention of coexisting with them. She had already decided not to tell Blake what she had learned that day. She wanted to hear what Michael would say when he visited the house, and what kind of vibrations he picked up, hostile or friendly, and if he could tell her anything more.
As she walked into the front hall, she looked at the portraits more closely than she had before. They were exactly like the people she had seen in the hallway the night of the earthquake. And she could have sworn that the grand dowager was gazing right at her in the portrait with a disapproving stare, as she held her fan and a lorgnette. Sybil could still hear her voice that night. She noticed a black pug dog in the painting then too, sitting on the floor next to the woman. The old man in the kilt appeared to observe her with interest as she walked past, trying not to let them unnerve her. This was her house now, she thought with determination, and no longer theirs. And as she walked upstairs to check on her children after their first day of school, Sybil didn’t see the little boy sitting under a table, wearing knee breeches and a cap, holding a bag of marbles, as he smiled, watching her.
Chapter 4