6Chapter Four: The Outsiders
"It's just a cold, a bad cold," Julia Tyler insisted, sitting up in bed and noisily blowing her nose. "I'll be better in a day or two."
"I could kill that brute Matthew," Professor Bradford grumbled, watching as her research assistant sneezed into a handkerchief. "That was no accident. He meant to drown you, I'm sure. Imagine shoving a girl like you into that icy water for no reason at all!
"Not Matthew's fault," Julia croaked, as she sank back against the pillows. "My foot slipped, that's all. Not sick, really! Need rest."
"Yes, of course." The heavily built lady professor rose from her chair. Julia heard her muttering as she left the room. "I don't know how I'll finish those witness statements. We've barely scratched the surface of the evidence presented at the witch trials!"
The old house was quiet in the late afternoon. Julia groaned, struggling to get comfortable in the huge, creaky old-fashioned bed. She wanted to recover quickly, to get right back to work on her important research. But her sore throat, aching head and sniffles made it hard to fall asleep.
And strange thoughts kept nagging her.
Had Matthew really meant to shove her into the water? All through the Dunwich family picnic, Julia had felt his eyes on her. Even as she sipped champagne and laughed her head off at Dr. Ben Carlson's rather naughty jokes, or listened spellbound to Aunt Caroline's tales of long-ago wealth and splendor, Julia could sense the stern disapproval of the silent, hulking, brooding young man who both was and wasn't a part of the Dunwich family. He didn't want her here. Julia could feel it right down to her toes. He didn't want her here at all!
"But isn't Silas Dunwich buried with the rest of the family? I thought the family burial ground was here on the manor!" Julia remembered downing her champagne and turning to Ben Carlson with avid interest, her voice husky and a little breathless.
"The old man hung himself," said a deep voice. "After his wife died, he became an outcast. Guilt got to him. He's buried in the woods across the lake." Matthew's shadow fell over the lively group on the picnic blanket, just like a cloud blocking the sun.
"I'd really like to see his grave," Julia announced, stiffly ignoring Matthew and smiling warmly at Dr. Carlson. "Perhaps we could learn more about the witch trials and the fall of Dunwich Manor."
Of course it wasn't Ben's fault that he declined to accompany her. Confined to a wheelchair, Aunt Caroline preferred to keep him close at all times. Somewhat to her surprise, Matthew offered to serve as a guide instead, and Julia couldn't say no to him. Otherwise he might think she was afraid of the dark woods!
"The old man's buried in there," Matt told her, after a long walk, pointing to a patch of thorns and tangled grass. There was no tombstone. A dead tree stood sentry like a skeleton. "No-one ever visits. He was the one who destroyed the Indian village. He had his own wife burned as a witch. And then he hung himself."
"I wonder if Silas Dunwich blamed himself for all the evil that took place here," Julia said thoughtfully. She looked at Matthew, sensing something of a connection between the silent, hulking young man and the ancient Puritan magistrate. "You think the Dunwich family is cursed, don't you?"
"I think you're a genius at poking into things that are none of your business," Matthew replied, looking down at her with a sort of grudging admiration. "You're a smart girl and you like to ask questions. Around here, that's dangerous."
"Asking questions is the best way to get to the truth," Julia said sharply. Matthew looked at her. She thought he might kiss her. But instead he said he knew a shortcut back to Dunwich Manor.
Getting back was harder than going out. Matthew's shortcut turned out to be a detour, taking them into a low, swampy area, very different from the clear blue waters of the lake. "Here's where they say the witches met, the ones that poisoned Silas' wife. You can hear them whispering when the wind is right."
"Humph! I thought she was hung as a witch!" Julia didn't believe that nonsense for a minute. She felt certain that Silas had hung all those women for no reason, even poor old Madge Tarleton, who foolishly boasted of her skill with poisons, spells, and potions. Still, it was no fun listening to the swamp grass rustling and feeling that there were things watching her. She felt as though Matthew was hurrying her, and without meaning to she sped up a little to keep up, still holding tightly to his hand.
That was when she fell into the water, but as she lay in bed thinking about it now Julia couldn't get it straight in her mind. Had she really fallen, or had Matthew somehow tugged her off balance? There had been something behind them, something in the tall grass. She felt positive she hadn't imagined it!
Yet when she fell into the water and Matthew pulled her out, all she felt was wet and foolish. And the next day she woke up with a dreadful cold, and she missed her morning meeting with Professor Bradford in the library. And now all that important research was going on without her . . .
Julia wanted to sleep, but all she could do was toss and turn. And when she dozed she experienced ghastly dreams.
Slimy weeds entwined her, pulling her into the swamp. Clutching hands kept rising from the earth to trip her. Graves gaped open like hungry mouths as she stood paralyzed with horror. The worst part was making it to safety and falling into Matthew's arms and kissing him, only to discover that he was really Silas Dunwich, an ancient accursed horror with the rotted face of a corpse!
"Knock-knock, anybody awake in there?" cried a cheerful voice.
"Huh?" Julia felt so awful she almost hated to open her eyes. But when she did she felt better at once. Dr. Carlson had come to visit her, carrying a small tray with a steaming cup of tea.
"This is a home remedy," he explained, sitting down on the side of the bed. "The truth is, it's better than anything I could prescribe. They call it Bitterroot Tea."
"Ugh!" Julia made a face as she drank. "It's bitter, all right. Tastes like water from the swamp!"
"And you should know," Ben Carlson teased. His blue eyes were twinkling as he watched Julia drink her tea. "I think it was a dirty trick, Matthew luring you all the way out there, just to trip you up. The rotten lout probably hoped you'd drown!"
"He said Silas Dunwich felt bad about people turning on him. It's almost like he blamed himself for what the witches did to his wife." Julia closed her eyes, sipping the bitter tea. She hated the taste, but as she drank a little more she felt slightly better. A rich, soothing warmth seemed to ease away all her aches and sniffles. "Maybe Matthew feels like an outsider too."
"Matthew could have been a Dunwich," Ben Carlson said quietly. "But he chose not to be. And that's entirely his fault."
"How could that be his fault?" Julia wanted to ask more questions, but Dr. Ben Carlson insisted that she finish her tea. Julia drained her cup to the last drop, meaning to dig further after some rest. Ben tucked her in, joking that a beauty needed her beauty sleep. Julia felt a kiss on her cheek, smiled, then fell into deep slumber.
