Chapter 19: The Visions

“I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream.”

— William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act IV, Scene I. Believed written c. 1595–1596; first published in the First Folio (1623). Public domain. Preserved in Early Modern English, with numerous modern editions and translations available.

Thomas Wilson did not falter regardless of what he witnessed. He had questions for Silas; after all, the butler witnessed a monstrous being attacking his employer.

A servant did not indulge in terror. Manners ensured that he would manage for the necessity of the house.

The practical was what mattered. Solutions were how he pushed forward, not focusing on a problem.

He needed to get Silas alone, so that he could help his friend. For that, the house needed to be emptied out.

With a voice calm as crystal and steady as the golden pendulum in the drawing-room clock, he instructed the assembled ladies and gentlemen that there had been a most regrettable accident. From there, he explained that a physician had already been summoned, and their continued presence would cause disorder, and then, because he was a man of color in the 1800s, he asked them politely to make their way home.

Despite mild protests, people made their way out of the manor. The best part for them was this added to the mystique of the evening. Something horrendous must have happened. They could tell their friends in New York, New Port, London, Paris, and Atlanta about how there was party at Wolcott Manor and some guest was so drunk that they had a brutal accident.

Stories would be made up as to whether or not this drunken fool of a man was hurt beyond repair. Some would say he died; others would use him as a cautionary tale.

Everyone obtained something for their appearance on this night, so whether they knew it or not, the guest complied because they had what they truly needed.

Thomas Wilson did not attend to such murmurs. Their gossip would serve them as Wolcott Manor was not meant to keep entertaining. In an ironic sense of comedy, Thomas believed that their rumors would protect the house from hosting another soiree.

The evening went on, and Thomas handled it all.

Local law enforcement came, and Mr. Wilson came up with an excuse about the guest getting drunk and hitting his head on the wall.

Of course, he moved the man away from the hallway that led to the basement.

All of the blood had been supernaturally absorbed, and with the cellar’s bloody secret contained, Thomas Wilson knew that with every passing minute, he would get the house to another day.

When they asked why Silas was not speaking for himself, Thomas told them the shock of his friend’s death had rattled him. There was some talk about Silas not being much of a man while others had understanding.

Before too long, the body of Jonathan Pellham was taken away by the authorities quietly. The house was saved from the scandal of a death, but more than that, with Jonathan’s removal, almost all of the evidence of those that had come to look at the door were gone.

The quiet bulwark of civility was breaking within Thomas’s soul by the time the sun rose.

Against all odds of reason, another day had come, and Thomas had survived, but so too did the reputation of the Wolcott family. Thankfully, with a few extra bribes, the police left sooner rather than later, so as to give Silas peace as well as providing a small peace of mind for the butler.