Miss Casey

This is my first story on this site, so any constructive feedback is gratefully received.

Many thanks to TheNyxianLily for editing and critiquing this story, and providing encouragement.

Anna peered out through her windscreen, trying to see past the snow that fell from a white sky. It was difficult to see the drive in the low visibility, but hearing gravel under her tyres comforted her. A dark shape loomed before her, and she slammed on her brakes, juddering to a stop. The shape was revealed to be a Range Rover, and a shiny new one at that. A brooding stone building loomed behind the car. It had to be Casey Manor.

After turning off the engine, she grabbed her coat and sports bag before leaving her Cortina. It was a shabby old vehicle next to the Range Rover, and not for the first time, Anna realised she didn't belong there. But she had to find out what this mystery was about. So, with the snow swirling about her, she ran up the steps to the manor and warily swung the great brass knocker. She only put a little force into the knock, but the noise boomed out. Shivering, she waited. And waited. Her patience giving out, she swung the knocker once more, just as the door creaked back on its hinges.

Behind it stood an imposing woman, who Anna judged to be in her forties. With a severe but elegant black skirt suit and her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, she gave off a stern schoolmarm vibe. Anna felt outmatched in her trainers, jeans, and tousled brunette hair. It was an effort to look up into the woman's icy blue eyes. And it was looking up, with the woman standing on the step above her and wearing a pair of stiletto heels, along with what Anna judged to be a six-inch height difference. Even the woman's breasts were larger and more voluptuous than Anna's modest but perky pair.

"You must be Anna," said the woman, as she looked Anna up and down. There didn't seem to be much enthusiasm for what she saw.

"Yes, that's right," said Anna, in a voice that came out far too squeaky for her liking.

For a moment, the woman was silent, and the icy wind continued to whip past.

At last, the woman spoke again. "The lawyers told me to expect you. You'd better come in."

As she drew back, Anna followed, relieved by the warmth of the house. They were in a large wood-lined hall. A number of doors and corridors opened onto it, a staircase swept majestically up, and many portraits gazed down at her from the walls. Even the carpet beneath her feet was thicker than any she'd ever felt before. So this is how the other half live.

"Shoes off," came the woman's voice.

Behind her, the woman was wearing high heels. But there was an expectant look in her eyes, and the tone of what she'd said brooked no argument. Anna bent and took off her trainers, and placed them to the side.

"Socks too," said the woman.

Anna looked up at her. "But I -"

"Socks too. I don't want those filthy things on my floors."

Anna glanced down at her feet. The white socks were quite new, and looked clean to her. But to avoid an argument, she removed them too and placed them in her trainers.

The woman smiled. "That's better. My name is Miss Casey. This house was my mother's. It's been in our family for generations. Do you have any idea why she left half of it to you in her will?"

Anna shook her head. "I'd never heard of this place or your mother before the lawyers contacted me last week." Since she didn't know Miss Casey's first name, she thought it would be a good idea to give her own surname. "My name is -"

"Anna. Yes, I know. Your family: is it possible they were related to my mother?"

"I don't think so. The only family I ever knew was my aunt, and she was dirt poor. There's no way she'd know someone who lived in a big country house like this."

Miss Casey was silent for a moment. "When you speak to me, you will address me as Miss Casey."

"What?"

"That's 'What, Miss Casey?', or rather, 'Pardon, Miss Casey?'. Some manners wouldn't go amiss on you, young lady."

Anna's jaw dropped. "You want me to call you 'Miss Casey' every time I say anything to you?"

Miss Casey's eyebrow lifted, and her eyes bore into Anna's until the girl dropped her gaze.

"Yes, Miss Casey."

A clap of her hands showed this pleased the older woman. "Good girl. Now, as to this will nonsense, we'll soon have it sorted out. I have some top lawyers on it, and your baseless claim will soon be dismissed."

Anna wasn't expecting that. "But then why -"

"Since you're named in the will, you have as much right to be here as I do, until the courts sort this mess out. You must be hungry. Would you like some sandwiches?"

Anna couldn't quite understand. "But, aren't you angry at me for being in the will?" At the eyebrow arching again, she quickly added, "Miss Casey."

With a laugh, the older woman reached out to put a stray hair behind Anna's ear. "What my mother wrote in her will isn't your fault, is it girl? Why would I be angry with you? Why don't you unpack your things? Your room is up the staircase, first room on the right. You can see the yellow door from here. While you get settled, I'll start on those sandwiches. I'm afraid the phone line has gone down in this storm, so you can't call your family or boyfriend. And I wouldn't expect it to get fixed soon; the radio said the storm is going to get worse and worse."

"I, uh, don't have a family any more, or a boyfriend, Miss Casey."

The woman reached out to place a hand on Anna's shoulder.

"You poor thing. Now, up you go and unpack. There's a good girl."

The plush carpet was thick under Anna's feet, and the staircase was wide enough for a dozen people to ascend without crowding. At the top stretched a long balcony with many doors opening from it, and old tasteful-looking portraits between. Anna couldn't help but wonder if they were the prior inhabitants of the house, and possibly Miss Casey's ancestors.

She pushed open the yellow door, to find a surprisingly small room. Perhaps the movies had led her to expect bedrooms in country houses to be huge, with four-poster beds, but this had nothing but a single bed, a wardrobe, and a chest of drawers. She could almost touch two opposite walls with her outstretched fingers.

After hanging her coat in the wardrobe, she began to take her clothes out of the bag. A woman laughed faintly outside. It appeared to be coming from outside her room, but when she opened the door there was nobody there, and the laughter stopped. Shaking her head, she returned to her room, but the laughter came back, louder than before. She opened the door quickly this time, certain the woman was just outside her door. But there was still no sign of the woman.

Leaving the door open, she finished unpacking, casting occasional glances to the balcony, but the laughter didn't return. When all her clothes were put away, she picked up a pair of blue socks with pink kittens on the sides. She examined them to ensure they were perfectly clean. Why was she doing this for Miss Casey? And why was it 'Miss Casey'? She didn't call Anna 'Miss Grant'. Anna wasn't even sure if the woman knew her surname.

Happy the socks would be adequately clean for Miss Casey, Anna put them on, and descended the stairs to search for the kitchen.

It was easy to find, a huge room with cookers and refrigerators that must have been from before the war. In the centre was a worn oak table, long enough to seat a dozen people. Miss Casey was putting a large plate of sandwiches in the middle of it when Anna entered the room. The older woman looked up, but the smile on her face faded.

"I thought we'd discussed the socks, Anna. Take them off."

Anna hesitated a moment under her steely blue gaze. As she took the new pair off, she said, "I thought it was the dirty pair that I was not to wear, Miss Casey. These are clean."

Miss Casey walked to her side, and Anna noticed she still wore her heels. "My house, my rules. And the rule is that Anna doesn't wear socks or shoes inside. Do you understand?"

It was an arbitrary and unfair rule, but Anna didn't feel up to arguing with the imposing woman. Even if the house was legally half hers. "Yes, Miss Casey."

A satisfied smile flitted across Miss Casey's face. "Good girl. Wash your hands and we'll have lunch. I've made both cheese and ham sandwiches."

The stone tiles of the kitchen floor were cold under Anna's feet as she walked to the sink and back. She sat opposite Miss Casey and tried one of the sandwiches.

"There was laughter outside my room, but I couldn't find the laughing woman. Who else is here, Miss Casey?"

Miss Casey gave her a hard look. "There's no one here but the two of us. My mother let the servants go when she moved into a nursing home. And I haven't been laughing recently. Nor did I hear laughter."

Anna looked down, doubtfully. "Perhaps you had a television or radio playing?"

Miss Casey's eyebrow rose, and she added a hasty "Miss Casey".

"I've not had the television or radio on all day. You simply couldn't have heard laughter."

Anna was confused about what exactly she had heard, and sat in silence while she enjoyed her ham sandwich.

"You know, Anna, it would probably be a good idea for you to explore the grounds. But be careful if you go into the west wing; it burned down after it was hit by a German bomb during the Blitz, and the walls and floors are unsafe. My family never had the money to repair it."

"Did you grow up here, Miss Casey?"

"Yes, I spent a happy childhood in this house, doing as I wished. And I wanted for nothing."

After a moment, Miss Casey brushed the crumbs off her hands and brought out a dusty book.

"I found this while clearing out some of my mother's things. It's an old diary. I never even knew she kept one. You can look if you like, but I warn you that it contains some old photos, and some of the fashions of the '60s were a crime against humanity."

With a laugh, Anna reached out and turned the diary to face her. The ink was faded, and dust filled her nostrils, making her sneeze. She flipped through the black and white pictures, strangers from the past staring back at her. But she stopped, shocked, and looked up at Miss Casey.

"Why is this woman's picture in the diary?"

Miss Casey looked over, clearly puzzled, not even picking up on the lack of a 'Miss Casey'.

"I don't know. That's my mother next to her. I'd guess she's one of her friends. Why?"

Anna looked up into Miss Casey's sapphire eyes. "That's my mother."

The wind whipped the snow about Anna as she walked the grounds. She was still bemused by the picture of her mother, but Miss Casey had suggested it almost certainly had something to do with her getting half of the inheritance. She'd promised to read the diary and see if she could find out how their mothers knew each other.

Despite the cold, Anna was enjoying her walk. And at least she was allowed to wear socks again! What a bizarre rule Miss Casey had instated there. For the life of her, Anna wasn't sure why she went along with it. But something about the strong and confident way Miss Casey said it, and the fuzzy feeling Anna got from obeying, meant she wasn't going to object.

Not that the socks were doing her much good. Her toes were chilled through them and her trainers. Exhaling a cloud of breath, she decided to return to the house. As she passed between two barns, she glimpsed a white shape pass ahead of her.

"Miss Casey?" she called, but there was no response. She rushed to where she had seen the figure, but nobody was there. Walking on, she turned the corner of the barn, happy to be out of the wind. She called out again, but there was no answer. There was nowhere the person could have gone other than the way Anna had entered by, or crossing an open field. Yet there was nobody here. More tellingly, there were no footsteps in the snow.

It was not the winter weather that caused her to shiver.

Miss Casey wasn't in the house, and Anna didn't want to be alone, so she headed for the chapel, a small stand-alone stone building. Inside, mercifully out of the biting wind, she found the other woman squatting to read an inscription on the wall. Miss Casey was wearing a green coat; there was no white in her clothing at all, unlike the figure she had seen.

"Miss Casey, were you out in the grounds a few minutes ago?"

Miss Casey looked up from the inscription.

"No, little one. I've been here for an hour or two. Looking over the family records."

"Records, Miss Casey?"

Miss Casey smiled up at her and stood. "Yes. Generations of the Casey family were buried here, and the de Caseys before them, which is what the Caseys were called when they came to this country as part of the Norman Conquest. My mother was proud of the family she married into. Which makes it all the stranger that she would give away half of it to you."

Anna nibbled her lip, unsure of what to say. "I thought I -- no -- I know I saw someone in the grounds. I thought it might be you, Miss Casey."

Miss Casey shook her head. "As I said, I've been here for some time. And there's nobody else. I don't think burglars come during the day, especially with two cars in the drive."

Anna considered that. "I don't think it was a burglar, Miss Casey. It was a beautiful woman, in a white dress."

Miss Casey looked out of the chapel door. "Where did she go?"

Anna looked at her feet for a moment, until Miss Casey hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to make eye contact.

"I asked you a question, little one. Where did she go?"

Anna's voice came out as little more than a whisper. "She disappeared, Miss Casey. I can't explain it."

For a moment, with the wind whistling past the open door, Miss Casey stared down at her, then slammed the door shut.

"People don't disappear, Anna. With all the excitement of this old house, your mind misinterpreted a snow flurry. You can stay with me and look at the inscriptions on these tombs if you like. It might be nice to spend some time together and get to know each other."

Anna considered for a moment. She wanted to spend more time with Miss Casey, but after her fright, she was repulsed by the idea of being near tombs.

"I'll go back indoors, if that's alright, Miss Casey."

With a nod, Miss Casey said, "Don't forget to take off your shoes and socks, little one."

Back indoors (barefoot, of course), Anna wandered about the house. She wasn't quite sure why a house needed so many rooms, or why none of them appeared to contain a television. It was hard to imagine growing up in a mansion like this; would Anna have had Miss Casey's self-confidence if she had?

Many of the rooms were locked, and the rest had furniture under fabric covers. The place must have been full of the Casey family and their servants back in the day, but was empty with just Anna in it. There was a musty smell in the air, pervading the house as though the past was cloying in her lungs.

It was as she came into a library, with weak winter sunshine shining through the moth-eaten curtains, that someone sobbed. Stopping to listen, more sobbing came. There was nobody nearby, but heart in mouth, she crept toward the fireplace, the source of the crying.

She was desperate to understand what was happening. Though her hand trembled, she reached up into the fireplace. Soot fell about her, forcing her to retreat, coughing. But she reached up again. The sounds stopped.

"Is there anyone there?" she called out.

Heart hammering, she waited, but no answer came.

"What a fool I've been," she said to herself. "It was probably just the wind making strange noises."

With a laugh at herself, she began to stand. But as she did, something painfully cold brushed her fingers in the fireplace. Anna scuttled back, spreading soot across the carpet, eyes staring wide.

"Who - who are you?" she said, but her only answer was the wind battering the windows. With a cry, she ran to look outside for Miss Casey.

Miss Casey was standing at the edge of a dilapidated horse-riding arena when Anna found her. Wrapping her coat tightly around herself, she told the older woman about what had happened.

"So you were upset by the whistling wind, then covered my carpet with soot?"

Anna looked up into her eyes. "But - the thing touched me. It was icy cold. I think it was someone's fingers, Miss Casey."

With a laugh, Miss Casey tucked Anna's hair behind her ear. "You know what else is icy cold? Ice. And in winter, it's not uncommon for it to fall down unused chimneys."

Anna looked down in embarrassment and stamped her feet to drive the cold out of them. "I thought -- oh, I don't know what I thought, Miss Casey."

Miss Casey put her arms around her, bringing her into a deep hug. "It's alright. You're just worked up. You need someone to take you in hand, to quiet your fears and guide you."

They held each other silently for some time. Anna enjoyed the feel of Miss Casey against her, the heat from her body, the scent of roses in her perfume.

"What were you doing out here, Miss Casey?"

Still holding Anna, Miss Casey turned to look out over the paddock. "I used to be quite the equestrian when I was younger. I was remembering how I used to break horses here. It was great fun, gradually getting them to accept direction and accept my lead. To be in control as I finally rode them, to know that another creature was waiting to accept my commands as soon as I gave them...I loved it."

Pressing her head against Miss Casey's shoulder, Anna said, "What does breaking horses involve, Miss Casey?"

"Well, little one, horses are quite wild initially. So they have to be trained to accept a human as their master. Or mistress in my case. It involves working them frequently, so that they accept direction from their mistress, rather than trying to make their own decisions. The horse must be taught to accept wearing harness, so that it can be guided more easily. Good behaviour is rewarded; bad behaviour is punished. Carrot and stick."

Anna looked out over the field, trying to imagine a younger Miss Casey out there. "Can all horses be broken like that, Miss Casey?"

The rough texture of Miss Casey's gloves rubbed along Anna's cheekbones as Miss Casey traced them. "Not just horses. Any mammal can be trained to submit to the desires of a mistress. The same old carrot and stick. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to get hungry. Why don't you go to the kitchen and cook us a stew? You'll find beef and onions in the kitchen; I brought them with me."

Anna was about ten yards away when Miss Casey called out to her. She stopped and turned.

"Yes, Miss Casey?"

"There are some carrots in one of the cupboards too. Add some of those. You've been a good girl, and you've earned them."

The warmth of the kitchen, with steam filling the air, was a welcome relief to Anna after the winter chill outside, though the tiles of the floor were cold against her bare feet, her toes digging into the grout. While she chopped the carrots, she wondered about what Miss Casey had said about earning carrots for being a good girl. She couldn't mean she was breaking Anna like a horse, could she?

She found she enjoyed the cooking, even though she'd hated Home Economics at school. She was particularly enamoured of the idea of looking after Miss Casey, who had shown her kindness. As she thought about that, it occurred to her that Miss Casey was only there to comfort her after she was frightened, but never around when eerie events unfolded. Suspicion took root in her mind as she considered why that might be.

A gust of cold air alerted Anna to Miss Casey entering the kitchen from the gardens. She took her coat and gloves off, but kept her shoes on. Still barefoot, Anna thought that was unfair, but she didn't mention it.