Cthulhu - Something in the Mud (short story)

  ***

  Jack sat at the dinner table having enjoyed a fine meal of crab, fish, wine and now coffee, tea, brandy and cigars.

  The day had been spent sailing. The wind was up and the Colonel had skippered the little craft with Jack and Olivia as crew, Olivia having arrived early that morning and, to his delight was as pretty as he remembered, and now fully grown. The Reverend Dunberry stayed at the house to catch up on some reading in the Colonel’s small library.

  At one end of the table was the Colonel. At the other was Lady Audrey Farthington, the widowed wife of Colonel James Sinclair’s old school chum, Sir Henry Farthington. Jack sat next to Olivia who in turn sat next to a Mr Stuart Morgan who it seemed was courting Olivia. Blasted luck! Opposite sat the Colonel’s neighbours and friends Mr and Mrs Roger and Valery Hillman.

  The staff were Richard Ashton, the valet, Paul Jones, a footman and general handyman, Jennifer Taylor, the house keeper and Helen Croft the cook. Jack liked to know people’s names. They interested him. Names seemed to describe a person or at least it often seemed so. All the staff had been hard at work that evening preparing and serving food. Jennifer was not a bad looker although somewhat flustered it seemed by the evening’s events. Cook was a middle aged woman, quick to smile. Ashton seemed dull but he certainly knew his job. Paul Jones was a solid lad and did what he was told – he had the bearing of private while Ashton would have been a corporal. At least that was Jack’s guess.

  As evening drew in, the wind got stronger and rain began to fall. Paul Jones was sent out to check on the cars and returned soaked only to report that the road was flooded. Olivia ran out to make sure her car was properly closed up, refusing any help. An independent woman. The Colonel informed his guests that this can happen when the wind was up, but it should be clear again by morning. He sent the housekeeper to prepare the rooms. This was followed by the ominous flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder. Wilhelm, one of the Colonel’s two wolfhounds was let back into the dining room/living room as everyone retired to the settees and fireplace. Olivia returned rather wet with muddy shoes which she laughed off.

  “Silly girl,” said the Colonel affectionately. “Where is Kaiser?” he then demanded of Ashton. The valet said he would have a look and left the room. Kaiser was the other wolfhound. Wilhelm had taken prime position in front of the roaring fireplace and just as the colonel began to pat him, the dog whimpered and skulked away to the corner of the room. There was another crash of thunder and lightning.

  “Gosh, how dramatic,” said Olivia.

  The sop, Morgan patted her hand. “Don’t be alarmed, my dear.” The fellow had arrived late in the day and instantly placed himself between Jack and Olivia. The jealous type it would seem. Not to worry, a little competition never stopped Jack before.

  “Tell me, Lady Farthington, did your late husband enjoy shooting?” said Jack. “I think the Colonel mentioned it to me.”

  “Why yes, Henry was a big fan of the sport. Do you shoot?”

  “Not I, but I hear Mr Morgan does. Mr Morgan?”

  “Yes, what was that?” said Stuart, surprised to hear his name.

  Jack motioned the man over. “Lady Farthington was just telling me about her late husband’s passion for shooting. Please go on Lady Farthington.”

  Without missing a beat Jack placed Morgan before the old woman and made his way over to Olivia who was admiring some old photos above the fireplace.

  “Family?” said Jack.

  Olivia turned and at once saw the game Jack had played. She smiled. “You are cruel, Mr Hart.”

  “Jack, please.”

  “Those two are my grandparents. That one is an aunt, and those two are mother and father.”

  Jack recognised the Colonel and nodded. He knew the Colonel’s wife had died some years past of smallpox.

  “So tell me,” said Jack. “Do you enjoy being back in Blighty?” He knew she had stayed on in France after the war. Her mother had loved it there and so had Olivia who finished her education in Paris.

  “I miss France, but England is home. I hear you are well travelled.”

  “I suppose. Business does sometimes require me to leave London.”

  “And what business would that be? I asked father you know? He just waved the question away which tells me that it’s probably something secret.”

  “It would bore you,” said Jack. “I do the odd job for the Foreign Office.”

  “Oh? How exciting. Are you a spy?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. More of a messenger boy really.”

  There was another crack of thunder. The wind was picking up, the windows rattled. It was dark out but with the lightning, Jack could see the waters of the Solent, rough and ragged through the large bay windows. It reminded him of the still photographs from the Front – a moment of time caught forever in black and white.

  “Would somebody draw the curtains?” This was Lady Farthington. “There is a chill and it is dark out.”

  Abel Dunberry took the lead and pulled them closed but not before another flash of lightning. He froze.

  “What was that?” said Lady Farthington. “There is something out there.”

  Ashton, the valet returned and apologised. He had failed to find the dog.

  Dunberry snapped the curtain closed, turned to the Colonel and whispered urgently in his ear. Jack did not miss the dark look on the Reverend’s face.

  The lights went out.