The Curse of Arnford Manor - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Curse

Arnford Manor, NC
October 31st, 1780, 5:22pm.

Tightly clutching his rifle, ninteen year old Riley Vandelul, a farmer's son, wandered through the vacant rooms of the manor house, searching. Before leaving, his father had firmly instructed him to, "Never go anywhere without that rifle." Riley's father, along with most able-bodied men on the plantation had left the manor to join the colonial army in their campaign against the British. Mr. Arnford, the landowner, had particular zeal for the dream of independence.

Riley himself was unfit for combat, due to a leg injury he sustained when thrown from a horse some weeks ago. He could walk okay, but he was unable to march or run. As such, he was charged with protecting all the women and children of the plantation, should the redcoats make it past the colonial army.

The smoke of battle could be seen on the horizon and every few seconds the sound of distant cannon fire would ring out through the air. The advancing redcoats had been intercepted, but dreadfully close to Arnford Manor.

As he stepped into the manor's chapel, Riley breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He had found who he was looking for: Mrs. Arnford, the lady of the house.

Marcia Arnford was seated in the front pew on the right-hand side. Her head was bowed solemnly. Riley's footsteps upon the wooden floorboards echoed through the chapel, so Mrs. Arnford probably heard him approaching. But she didn't flinch.

"Mrs... Mrs. Arnford?" Riley nervously announced himself. "Everybody else is down in the bunker. We should go, too." The bunker, hidden behind a secret door in the cellar, had been dug as a hiding place from the British.

"Should we?" Marcia Arnford sadly retorted. A howitzer rang in the distance. "The king's army is coming for us. Can't you hear them? They are less than a day's march away. They shall seize us and we shall all be drawn and quartered. This chapel is as good a place to await them as any. God alone can stay our execution now."

"No. If we go to the bunker... the British will think there is no one here and leave," Riley stammered, trying to reassure himself perhaps more than Mrs. Arnford.

She argued, "It makes no difference. We have been branded as traitors to the crown. They will never stop hunting us, now. What matter if they find us tonight, or in a fortnight, or a month or a year? That bastard fool, Washington, has sealed all our fates. A pox on him and his inflammatory rhetoric! He promises liberty... but what liberty is there in being nailed inside a pine box?"

Riley, now realizing the depth of Mrs. Arnford's despair, sat down quietly beside her. He wanted desperately to escort her down to the safety of the bunker, but he hadn't the confidence to order the wife of the master to follow him.

Mrs. Arnford lamented, "My husband pledges Arnford Manor's support to Washington's cause. I begged him... begged him not to defy the British. Begged him to keep company with me here, instead of riding off into some pointless war. But it seems he prefers his frivolous ‘independence' to the love I could offer him."

Knowing not what else to do, Riley tentatively placed a hand upon her shoulder, in an attempt to comfort her. Only then did she lift her gaze from the floor and take notice of him.

"What is your name, lad?" she asked softly.

"Ri... Riley, ma'm," he answered. "Riley Vandelul."

"Would you imagine my company to be such a poor alternative to a quarrel for independence, Riley Vandelul? Am I so bereft of beauty that a man should prefer to be thrust against an Englishman's bayonet than pressed against me?"

After an awkward pause, Riley responded, "No, ma'm."

"You're very kind," Mrs. Arnford replied without a smile, seeming oblivious to Riley's discomfort. "It is a precious gift to be able to give, pleasure of the flesh. My husband and I have shared many happy hours in our marriage bed. An opportunity for such a moment ought to be seized. Especially when we have scarce hours left to live." Her crystal blue eyes gazed into Riley's with profound intensity. She sighed silently as she resigned herself to utter hopelessness. Then, much to his dismay, Mrs. Arnford lunged upon Riley with feminine grace and kissed him softly upon the lips.

She sensed his reluctance immediately, but she continued nonetheless. Her second kiss and beyond were more erotic. Riley was frozen in a state of wide-eyed panic. Marcia slipped a hand behind his head and held it close to hers: a precaution to keep him from fleeing, under the guise of passion. Her other hand began unbuttoning her elegant green frock. Eventually, Riley reciprocated her kisses, though with only a fraction of the fervor she displayed.

Taking him by the hand, Marcia stood from the pew and Riley followed. While still kissing him with her tender lips, she unbuttoned the fly of his worn breeches. Once she had slipped his suspenders off his shoulders, his breeches dropped to the floor, leaving only his undershorts covering his privates.

Marcia stepped back and peeled her dress away to reveal her elaborate 18th century underwear. The site of her prominent cleavage atop her low-cut chemise produced a confusing mix of emotions in Riley. Then she removed it and showed him her lithe, ample breasts, with their wide, pink areolae that looked as soft as silk. The mere sight of them made his heart pound wildly, for he had never seen a woman's breasts before. An odd tingling ran through his manhood and within seconds, Riley felt it growing.

Marcia untied her bouffant hair and shook it loose, making her curly chestnut brown locks tumble on to her shoulders. "Take off your shirt," she instructed, in a voice so mild it almost sounded innocent. A stunned Riley obeyed, but only after Marcia gave him a stern furrowing of her brow and a nod. She approached him and kissed him as she reached inside his undershorts.

He trembled when Marcia began to tenderly massage his erogenous rod. It was surprising just how enjoyable her touch felt and how quickly it made him hard. After a few seconds, she relieved him of his underwear.

She took one of Riley's numb hands and placed it upon her breast. "Go on, squeeze them," she told him. "Gently!" she emphasized as an afterthought, having deduced by now that Riley had no experience with women.

He began squeezing and releasing her mound in waves of increasing firmness, expecting Mrs. Arnford to warn him if he was getting too rough. He liked the way her breast felt in his hand, though he knew it was sinful to think such thoughts.

Once Riley was fully erect, Marcia placed her hands upon his shoulders and pushed him down until he was sitting before her. Then she dropped her petticoat and exposed her thick, brown bush. Riley gasped. Refusing to acknowledge the plain distress upon Riley's face, Marcia straddled his legs and knelt, seating herself upon his lap. She embraced him and kissed him again and again. Firmer, hotter, longer, until he started kissing her in return once more. Amidst the kisses, she reached for his straining pole and guided into her snatch. He was larger than her husband was, though that hardly eclipsed her woes.

With his maleness inside her, Marcia gave Riley one final, erotic kiss, before throwing her weight forward and pushing him to lie back on to the floor. While she held him down by the shoulders, her hips began their wild gyrations.

"This is sin," Riley grunted with grave concern, finally airing the objection he'd held since Marcia first came on to him.

"We're in a chapel. Repent when I am finished," she callously brushed him off, without even looking him in the eye or easing her coital efforts. Between his heightened arousal and her social superiority, Riley didn't have the will to resist any further once she'd dismissed his qualm.

So, on the floor, directly in front of the pulpit, the two naked people persisted deeper and deeper into their carnal act. The timber of the large cross upon the front wall became drier and more rotten with each thrust Marcia made. Large splinters began to crumble from it and eventually the cross' right arm broke away and fell to the floor. The left one soon followed. Dozens of bookworms hatched from their eggs within the open bible that rested on the pulpit, and grew to adults at a staggering rate. They began feeding, cutting large holes through the verses of the sacred tome. The angelic wooden cherubim lining the moulding on the walls all wept viscous black tears and became dry and frail like the cross. Deep cracks descended from the eyes of the saints depicted in the stained-glass windows.

Marcia began to moan and grunt as Riley's thrusting rod excited her tender sex. Riley instinctively began guiding her hips as she rode him harder, harder, harder. Right before his eyes, her breasts jiggled enticingly from side-to-side. He felt a desire to press his face right between them, but he was too afraid to attempt it.

Then, with a sharp yelp, Marcia threw her head back as she plunged her snatch deep on to his maleness. A moment later, she collapsed upon him, quivering in climax. Riley panted as his loins pounded with disturbing fury. A hitherto unknown fluid, much thicker than pee surged through his cock, burst after burst. He thought for a moment that he was dying. Though initially terrifying, the experience left a hollow sense of satisfaction in its wake. He lifted his weary arms and embraced Mrs. Arnford. He wanted to keep her naked body close just as much as he wished he could turn back the clock and prevent what they had just done.

"Don't leave me," she whimpered, so quietly that Riley wasn't able to make out her words.

---

Room 4, Redford Inn, Holliston, NC
July 15th, 1931, 9:03pm

"There's more," Demi said, as her sisters looked on in amazement.

She continued reading from the old journal,

January 27, 1781: Mr. Arnford and many of the neighbors have returned! They have just had a great victory to the south. I am glad to see father again, alive and well. Though there is still much to do and the men expect they will be departing again soon.

One other bit of joyous news, Mrs. Arnford is with child. Mr. Arnford is delighted. I am sure he hopes for a son.

I find it hard to look at her since that evening in the chapel. I think she avoids me, also...

Demi hurriedly thumbed several pages ahead,

July 23, 1781: Last night Mrs. Arnford delivered her child. I am told that it is a girl and that she is to be christened ‘Serina.' Mrs. Arnford's cries were heard across the whole property for many hours last night. I have never heard such screams of anguish, though she is not the first lady hereabouts to have delivered a child. Despite this, both mother and child are expected to live.

October 19, 1788:...One other amusing rumour floating about the plantation: It seems that young Serina Arnford is exasperating her mother with her mischief. It's said that she's been caught several times behaving inappropriately in the manor chapel. We all agree that it is just a child's innocent games. But Mrs. Arnford is reputedly furious with the child and spanked her hide raw. Her temper has become harsh in recent years.

April 5, 1789: I caught young Serina Arnford watching me as I tilled the fields today. She simply stood there smiling at me for over an hour. She is a most peculiar little girl. She doesn't play as others do. Eventually, Mrs. Arnford passed by and dragged young Serina back to the manor house. She seemed most displeased at her daughter, though I don't know why. She wasn't bothering anyone.

August 14, 1791: They say Mrs. Arnford refuses now to attend services in the chapel. She also endeavours to prevent their children from attending, though Mr. Arnford will not hear of it. He is most displeased with Mrs. Arnford's attitude.

I can not help but wonder if she avoids the chapel because of... No, I shouldn't think of such things.

October 27, 1794: The neighbors are saying that Mrs. Arnford means to have the family chapel closed. She argues with Reverend Dyson constantly, pressuring him to relocate to the unused barn. Both he and Mr. Arnford refuse her demands.

November 30, 1795: There is much movement about the manor house today. It is not our business, but we pester the house-staff for an explanation, nonetheless. It seems Mrs. Arnford had a violent outburst last night. She was screaming something about a girl that God had sent as punishment. There is talk that she may be sent to an asylum if her reason does not return to her!

December 2, 1795: It seems Mrs. Arnford has recovered. We have heard that her outburst was likely the result of too much drink, but I am not so sure...

September 3, 1796: I noticed young Serina Arnford staring at me from afar again today, as I have caught her doing many times before. She has grown to be a pretty young lass, I must say. Mrs. Arnford once again took umbrage at the child watching me. I don't understand why it offends her so, but...

I have checked the dates. The timing certainly fits. Could it be?

September 6, 1796: After trying for the past three days, I finally managed to meet with Mrs. Arnford on the steps of the manor house. We had never spoken since...

I tried to talk with her but she asserted that she ‘does not deal with the tenants' and ‘I should speak with her husband.' As she tried to flee I asked her directly, ‘Is Serina my daughter?' Mrs. Arnford turned and faced me with rage I have never seen before in man or beast. She slapped me hard across the face, cutting my cheek with her wedding band. I still feel the sting. ‘Never speak of such things!' she snarled, before retiring indoors.

What does this mean? Is it true? I believe it might be. What am I to tell Amy?

"Amy was his wife," Demi explained.

December 10, 1796: Mrs. Arnford was found last night standing outside the doors of the chapel, screaming at the top of her lungs. I'm told her words were akin to, ‘The devil girl, make her stop. How can I escape the Lord's judgement?' and then, over and over again, ‘What must I do?'

The doctors have bloodletted her and hope it will cure her delirium. She is to rest in bed for a week.

August 13, 1799: Mr. Arnford's coach driver boy has told us a shocking tale this morning. Last night, he discovered Serina Arnford dancing in the chapel, in a state of undress. He watched her secretly as she danced alone until well past midnight. I remember hearing many years ago that she would play odd games in the chapel as a young girl. I always assumed that it was ordinary childhood playfulness. But now I wonder...

If she truly is my daughter, can it be mere coincidence that she behaves so disgracefully in the very place where my sinful seed was sown? Am I to assume her mother has told her of her origins?

August 27, 1799: Mrs. Arnford is dead. She was discovered lying in her bed this afternoon. I have spoken with the maid who found her. She is most upset, but I have learned that there was a vial and a half-empty wineglass on the bedside table. From her description, it sounds as if there was a trace of quicksilver at the base of the wineglass.

Why would Mrs. Arnford do such a thing?

October 29, 1801: My heart is heavy. Young Serina has fainted this morning and has not regained consciousness. I am told she simply rests in her bed, with a delirious grin upon her face, moaning with every breath. The doctor has no explanation and he seems dubious that she will survive. How it torments me that I can not go to my daughter's side in her hour of need...

Then he goes on for several paragraphs about how he wished he'd told Serina the truth and how he didn't want to disgrace Mr. Arnford," Demi concisely summarized.

November 1, 1801: Serina, who has not woken in two days, went missing early last night. Nobody saw her leave, either alone or with assistance. Mr. Arnford has assembled every able bodied man in his land for a search party. So far, the only trace we have found is the undergarments she was wearing. They were found scattered along the aisle of the chapel. I have a notion that something terrible has happened.

I pray you be well, Daughter.

"She was never found, but the journal goes on to detail all the misfortunes the plantation suffered: the priests' deaths, the bad harvests, catastrophic accidents. They all begin with her mysterious disappearance," Demi explained. "That's who the shadow lady is! Serina Arnford, not Marcia!"

"By the Goddess!" Nina exclaimed, "She's a curse-spawn! But I thought they were only a myth?"

"What's a curse-spawn?" Swift Coyote inquired.

"Very, very rarely, a person can be tied to a curse from birth, or even earlier. They're known as curse-spawn. It's said that they play a unique role in the curse's progression in which they act as both its slave and its master," Nerine answered.

"The myth," she began, responding to Nina's earlier comment, "is that so-called curse-spawn are doomed to such a dreadful fate. Serina Arnford had a choice. She chose to embrace the curse, rather than resist it. Once she had matured, she was able to fuse with the curse. Doing so has given her unnatural powers and immortality, but at the cost of her humanity and soul.

"That explains why her mates die during conception," she suddenly realized.

"How so?" Swift Coyote asked.

"You and I can make love and produce a brand new life, because we are both creatures of nature, with our own natural energy," Nerine replied, caressing her fruitful belly. "But Serina Arnford is essentially a walking curse. She has no living energy, so she can't create a new life force, but she can corrupt an existing one. The only way she can make babies is by consuming the life energy of unsuspecting men and distorting it in her womb into twisted offspring."

"So... if we assume she is a curse-spawn, then we're also assuming that it was Riley and Marcia's affair that caused the curse?" Levinia asked, "Doesn't quite make sense does it? I mean thousands of married people cheat on their spouses every year, but they don't bring about curses do they?"

"Maybe not," Nina replied in a pensive tone, "But it was a family chapel, wasn't it?"

"So?" Levinia prompted.

"So, what do you want to bet that that was the exact place where Marcia Arnford said her wedding vows?" Nina suggested.

Nerine groaned in frustration, "It was so obvious! The arched ceiling, the stained glass windows – Functions Room B was originally built as a Christian church! How did I miss that? Of course it was significant that the curse was based there!"

"I don't follow," Swift Coyote said.

"Temples, houses of worship are consecrated ground. They are places of heightened energy, places where the spiritual veil of the world is more tightly woven. However, if they are grievously desecrated, it can open a spiritual wound – a curse. The house of worship then becomes a conduit for energy that is corrupt, rather than positive," Levinia explained.

"I thought you witches didn't believe in Christianity?" Swift Coyote countered, a little confused.

"We don't believe in its doctrine," Nina told him, "but we do recognize the power of its followers' faith. In their churches, people come together as one to worship their deity with song and incantations. They gather to celebrate the love of a couple, welcome the new life of a child and bid peace to the spirits of the departed. They share each other's joys and they comfort each other in times of sorrow. Those faith-based bonds of community are the source of a church's holiness, not some omnipotent ‘son of the God.'"

"When she got married, Marcia Arnford made a pledge of monogamy that was deeply rooted in the belief system that consecrated that chapel," Levinia continued. "By breaking that promise in the very place it was made, she dealt an awful blow to the chapel's spiritual integrity. Worse still, there was no virtue in the sex she had with Riley. She didn't love him; she wasn't naturally attracted to him. He felt bullied... his own body turned against him. They had sex based solely on terror, distrust, indifference – destructive emotions. Under those conditions, a curse was inevitable!"

"Ugh! What were they thinking? Performing an unwanted joining there?" Nerine fumed. "I can't believe they could be so ignor..."

"Shhh!" Swift Coyote interrupted. "Do you hear that?" Everyone fell silent.

Some distance away, a large bell was chiming.

Continued in Chapter 8

---