Lady With a Fan
Geoffrey Watts checked out of the Holiday Inn, put his suitcase in the trunk of his car and headed east on Interstate 90 for the last leg of his trip.
I should be in Puritan Falls by early afternoon, he thought as he merged with traffic at the end of the highway entrance ramp.
He could have flown and avoided the long drive. Given the price of gas, the air fare might even have been cheaper, but the fall foliage was at its peak, and Geoffrey had always been a sucker for the autumn season. Had it been any other time of the year, he would doubtless have planned only a brief stay in Massachusetts, just a week or two to research his new book and pay his respects to his former college roommate before returning home to San Francisco to begin writing.
Instead, he decided to spend the remainder of October and all of November in scenic New England. That would give him more than enough time to research the Lizzie Borden case in Fall River and enjoy a visit with his old friend. He also planned to take a few days to do some sightseeing in Salem, Nantucket, Gloucester, Marblehead and Martha's Vineyard. Perhaps he would even get away for a weekend in nearby Boston.
There were no motel chains within Puritan Falls' boundaries and the country inns and bed and breakfasts were already booked, so he went online and found an ad placed by an elderly widow who rented out rooms on a short-term basis. Before leaving California, Geoffrey had phoned Mrs. Mumford and made arrangements to stay with her until the first of December.
After exiting the Massachusetts Turnpike, he followed the directions on his navigator and eventually found the three-story brick house on Atlantic Avenue without any difficulty. A middle-aged Vietnamese woman opened the front door when Geoffrey rang the bell.
"You must be Mr. Watts," she said. "Mrs. Mumford has been expecting you."
The housekeeper left Geoffrey alone in the drawing room and returned to her duties. Moments later, the owner of the house, a regal, silver-haired matron rode into the room on a motorized chair.
"How do you do, Mr. Watts," she said with a voice that dripped of old money and good breeding. "Forgive me for not rising, but as you can see, I'm confined to a wheelchair."
Geoffrey felt as though he should either bow or kiss the woman's hand, but he settled for a respectable nod and a handshake.
"I want to thank you for allowing me to stay in your home. It's quite lovely."
Mrs. Mumford smiled, and Geoffrey could see traces of the beautiful woman she must have been when she was young.
"How kind of you to say so. Now," she said, riding her chair out into the foyer, "your room is on the third floor. Turn right at the top of the staircase, and it's the third door down. The bathroom is at the far end of the hall. If you would like to join us for dinner, we eat at 6:30."
"Actually, I was going to go see a friend who lives here in town. Perhaps you'll be kind enough to invite me some other time."
"You're welcome to dine with us any time you like. Mai Ly always makes more than enough food."
After spending a pleasant evening with his former roommate's family, Geoffrey returned to Mrs. Mumford's house. He used the spare key she had given him to open the front door, and then he tiptoed up the staircase to the third floor. As he neared his room, he smelled the lingering scent of perfume in the hall.
"I guess I'm not the only guest," he said, letting himself into his room.
Geoffrey woke around 2:00 a.m. to the call of nature, opened his door and walked down the hall to the bathroom where the scent of perfume was more pronounced. He turned and saw at the end of the long, dimly lit hall the outline of a woman.
"Hello," he called softly. "I'm Geoffrey Watts. I'll be staying here for a few weeks."
With a swoosh of fabric, the woman headed down the hall and ducked into a door at the other side of the staircase. Geoffrey laughed.
"Nice going, Watts!" he told himself. "You scared another one off."
The following morning he went downstairs where Mai Ly had breakfast waiting for him.
"Will the young woman with the perfume be joining us?" he inquired.
Mai Ly looked as though she was about to speak when Mrs. Mumford rode into the dining room.
"I'll have a cup of coffee, too, Mai Ly," she announced.
The housekeeper turned toward the sideboard, poured a cup of coffee from a sterling silver pot, handed it to her employer and then quickly returned to the kitchen.
"I seem to have frightened your other guest last night when I encountered her in the hallway."
Mrs. Mumford's steely blue eyes twinkled mischievously.
"You mustn't mind her. She always runs from men."
Geoffrey could not imagine why a grown woman would behave in such a childish manner, but frankly he did not care. He was in Puritan Falls to work on his novel and see the sights in the surrounding towns. He had neither the time nor the inclination to get involved in the lives of the people living in the house on Atlantic Avenue.
* * *
It was a warm, clear autumn day, the kind Geoffrey wished he could bottle and sell. Rather than spend such a glorious day reading through documents at the Fall River Historical Society, he decided to drive to Salem. After a day of sightseeing in Witch City and a late dinner at the Salem Beer Works, he returned to Puritan Falls. Again, the house was dark when he let himself in and quietly made his way to his third floor room.
A muffled voice came out of the shadows.
"There you are."
A moment later a woman stepped forward, and Geoffrey smelled her captivating perfume. He stared speechlessly at her as though she were a ghost. Her long, full-skirted dress was early nineteenth century, and her hair was piled atop her head in an equally outdated coiffure. What he found most disturbing was the way she held a lady's fan over her face, so that he could see only her eyes above it.
"Who are you?" he finally asked.
"My name is Aurora," she replied and lowered her fan.
Again, Geoffrey was speechless. Aurora was without doubt the most exquisite woman he had ever seen, far outshining Hollywood's most glamorous film stars.
Without so much as a how do you do, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.
When the startled writer finally broke the kiss, the woman smiled at him and whispered, "Good night, Geoffrey. I'll be seeing you again."
She then walked down the hall, and as she had done the previous night retreated behind the door on the other side of the staircase.
Although he was still determined not to get involved in the lives of the people in the house, he could not help feeling curious about the strange woman in the period costume, who hid her lovely face behind an ornamental fan.
* * *
The following day at breakfast, Mai Ly pointedly ignored the boarder by pretending to be busy in the kitchen.
"Good morning," Mrs. Mumford said cheerfully when she rode into the dining room. "How was your day in Salem?"
"Crowded with tourists attending the Haunted Happenings," he replied. "But what I saw of the city I enjoyed very much."
"And what are your plans for today?"
"I haven't decided yet."
Geoffrey did not want to talk about himself. He wanted to steer the conversation toward the strange woman with the fan.
"I met your other guest last night," he announced. "Has she been staying here long?"
The old lady looked at him with amusement.
"It seems she's made quite an impression on you."
"What makes you say that?"
"Both yesterday and today you brought her up in conversation."
Geoffrey immediately became defensive.
"I'm just curious; that's all."
"It's quite all right, Mr. Watts," she assured him. "Most of the men who have stayed here have taken an interest in Aurora."
Embarrassed, Geoffrey turned the conversation back to a less personal subject.
"This house is in excellent condition for its age," he declared. "It must take quite a bit of upkeep."
"Not really. In fact, it requires very little maintenance. The original owner built this place to last. There are few things in this house that are under a hundred and fifty years old—present company excluded."
Throughout the rest of the morning meal, Mrs. Mumford spoke of the history of her magnificent home. It was built by a sea captain, she explained. A hard-hearted man who, it was rumored, was not averse to carrying an occasional human cargo to the islands. The captain eventually disappeared on a voyage to Barbados, and everyone believed he was set upon by pirates. His daughter, who had recently arrived in Puritan Falls from Boston, inherited his house and his fortune.
"Whatever happened to the daughter?" Geoffrey asked.
"I'm not sure. I assume she got married and moved away."
When she finished her second piece of toast, the old woman excused herself and rode out of the dining room. As Geoffrey listened to the retreating hum of her motorized chair, he suddenly wondered how Mrs. Mumford knew he had gone to Salem.
* * *
Even though the warm temperatures continued, urging him to seek outdoor entertainments, Geoffrey decided to head for Fall River to begin his research. He had spent the previous day sightseeing and felt it was now time to exert some self-discipline and get down to work. Of course, that did not prevent him from taking the guided tour at the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast on Second Street, the former Borden home where the murders took place in 1892. He also drove past Maplecroft, the home Lizzie purchased after being acquitted of the double homicide. Afterward, he went to Oak Grove Cemetery to see the graves of the Bordens: Andrew (the murdered father), Sarah (his first wife and mother of his two daughters), Abby (his second wife and fellow murder victim), Emma and Lizbeth (the name on Lizzie's grave marker). Finally, he drove to the Fall River Historical Society where he read through its collection of documents on the murders and subsequent trial, viewed the police photographs taken of the crime scene and examined the more gruesome exhibits: the head of the hatchet believed to be the murder weapon, pillowcases from the room in which Abby Borden was murdered and even the braided hairpiece the murdered woman wore at the time of her death.
By 4:20 the museum was getting ready to close. Geoffrey quickly purchased an assortment of books to read at his leisure and then left Fall River, heading north. The traffic in and around Boston was heavy, and after stopping to eat dinner, he did not get back to Mrs. Mumford's house until after eleven. He hoped the old woman was not too upset by the hours he had been keeping, but at least he was quiet when he came in late at night.
The captivating scent of perfume was the first thing he noticed when he opened his door. It was a scent that made his pulse quicken. In the moonlight shining through the window, he saw the outline of a woman sitting on his bed.
"There you are," a voice whispered. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home tonight."
Never having been in such a situation, Geoffrey was not sure how to react. Should he angrily demand to know what she was doing in this room? Should he act debonair and nonchalantly dismiss her intrusion with a witty remark? Geoffrey's indecisiveness did not last long. As was the case with most men in the presence of a beautiful, seductive woman, his mental functions lost out to his physical urges. Without a word of censure, he walked toward the bed and took Aurora in his arms.
When Geoffrey awoke the following morning, he found himself alone in bed. Where had Aurora gone? Perhaps she left for work already, he theorized. Maybe that would explain why he had yet to see her at breakfast. It disturbed him that although their physical relationship had progressed rapidly, he still knew next to nothing about her.
As he got out of bed, he felt something beneath his feet. He leaned over and picked up the fan Aurora must have dropped when she left the room. After showering and dressing, Geoffrey went down to the dining room. There was no sight of either Mrs. Mumford or her housekeeper. He peeked into the kitchen. No one was there either. Rather than try to find Mai Ly, he drove into town and stopped at The Quill and Dagger bookstore where he had a latte and brownie at its coffee bar.
He then returned to Mrs. Mumford's house to get his camera, so he could take photographs of Fall River. When he reached the third floor, he saw the door to his room was ajar. Geoffrey rushed inside, hoping Aurora had paid him another visit. He stopped abruptly when he saw Mai Ly looking through his dresser drawers.
"Oh!" the housekeeper exclaimed with surprise when she saw him standing in the doorway.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Cleaning your room," she lied. "I was just about to change your sheets."
"You won't find them in my drawer," he said evenly, trying not to lose his temper. "There's nothing in there but socks and underwear."
"Forgive me," she apologized, her face red with shame. "I'll come back later."
"That won't be necessary. I'll clean the room myself from now on."
Mai Ly headed toward the door, her eyes darting around the room as though she were looking for something.
"Oh, and Mai Ly," he added as he prepared to shut the door behind her, "I'll be keeping the door locked from now on."
As the housekeeper ran off down the stairs without a word, Geoffrey shook his head in disgust. Who would have thought Mai Ly was the type to steal from the guests?
* * *
October ended with the annual seasonal tradition of trick or treating. Geoffrey was in his room working on the outline of his book on Lizzie Borden and occasionally glancing down at the costumed revelers in the street below. Witches, scarecrows, vampires, superheroes, Disney characters and a motley collection of ghosts, ghouls and goblins went door to door down Atlantic Avenue ringing bells and shouting "trick or treat." Yet no one stopped at the old sea captain's house. In fact, most of the kids gave the place a wide berth.
The writer continued working until shortly after 10:00 p.m., at which time he decided to read one of the books he had purchased at the Fall River Historical Society. When he got the bag out of his closet and dumped the contents on the bed, Aurora's fan fell out with the books. Geoffrey had forgotten all about finding it on the floor the morning after he slept with the strange woman. He had not seen her since that night and was looking forward to renewing their acquaintance. Her fan gave him a good excuse to seek her out.
Geoffrey walked down the hall past the staircase and gently knocked on the door of her room.
"Aurora, are you awake? I found your fan, and I want to return it."
There was no answer, so he went back to his own room and read until he fell asleep. The sound of footsteps woke him later that night. Someone was in his room. Was it Aurora, eager to stir his passion again? Or was it Mai Ly, come to rifle through his belongings?
He lay still, trying to focus his eyes in the darkness. When he was able to see clearly, he was shocked to learn that the late night intruder was neither Mai Ly nor Aurora. It was Mrs. Mumford, and she was walking, albeit with a slow, stumbling gait. As he watched from the bed, the old woman made her way to the dresser and picked up Aurora's lost fan.
Mrs. Mumford sighed as she opened the fan to a complete semicircle and then waved it frantically in front of her face like a menopausal woman suffering from a three-alarm hot flash.
As Geoffrey stared in awe at the old woman, a strange transformation began to occur. With each wave of the fan before her face, Mrs. Mumford's skin became firmer, the gray in her hair turned a vibrant red and the stooped, slightly hunched form took on a much younger woman's figure. Aurora Mumford, looking as well-preserved as her elegant mansion, walked to the bed and, believing Geoffrey was sleeping, attempted to wake him with a kiss.
"I missed you," she whispered in his ear as she crawled beneath the blankets.
Although the writer's mind shrank from intimate contact with the unknown creature, his body seemingly had a mind of its own.
The following morning Geoffrey once again woke to an empty bed. He dressed, went downstairs and was surprised to find breakfast waiting for him in the dining room for the first time in more than a week.
"Good morning," Mrs. Mumford greeted him. "I haven't seen you for some time. I'm afraid I've been a bit under the weather lately."
Geoffrey took a good look at the old woman in the clear light of day and wondered why he had not immediately seen the strong resemblance to the mysterious guest. Had he not witnessed the eerie metamorphosis himself, he would have assumed Aurora was Mrs. Mumford's granddaughter; however, having seen the bizarre ritual with the fan the previous night, he knew the two women were one and the same.
"Aren't you in the mood for talking this morning?" the old woman goaded him.
"Sorry. I was thinking about the conversation we had in which you told me nearly everything in this house was more than a hundred and fifty years old. The same could be said of the sea captain's daughter, couldn't it?"
Mrs. Mumford's face hardened. She knew he had ascertained her true identity, or at least as much of it as he was able to understand, and saw no reason to keep up the pretense.
"Captain Hanover was not my father," the old woman confessed, "although everyone here in Puritan Falls assumed he was when I took possession of his house and money."
"What was he then, your husband?"
"I was never married. Mr. Mumford was a guest, like you. Again, people assumed we were married, and I didn't bother to deny it."
"No one questioned your unusual longevity?"
"Children see what their imaginations conjure up. To some I'm a witch who eats bad little boys and girls. To others I'm a lonely old widow waiting for my long-dead husband to return from sea."
"And the adults?"
"They go about their daily lives, never looking beyond what they see on the surface. To them one old lady is much the same as another."
"Just how old are you?"
Aurora—there was no reason to continue to think of her as Mrs. Mumford—laughed.
"Don't you know it's impolite to ask a lady her age?"
"You're not a lady. I doubt you're even human."
"How astute you are," she said sarcastically.
"What are you?"
"I am what some people call a succubus."
The term was one Geoffrey knew in connection with research he had once done on the Malleus Maleficarum, or Witches' Hammer. A succubus was a demon who took the form of a mortal woman to seduce men. Such demons gained energy from sexual relations with humans, much to the detriment of their victims' health and lives.
"You're immortal then?"
"It appears so since I haven't died yet. But I have aged. There was a time when I looked young and beautiful without the aid of the fan."
"I suppose now that I know the truth about you, my life is in danger?"
"Quite the contrary. I want you to live a long life. In a way I'm glad you know the truth. We can live here without the tiresome playacting."
"I'm not staying. In fact, I'm leaving this morning, just as soon as I can pack my bags."
The old woman took the fan out of her pocket and began to wave it in front of her face. Geoffrey, mesmerized, watched the years fade before his eyes.
"You're not going anywhere," Aurora informed him with a captivating smile. "You can't. You're under the spell of a succubus."
* * *
December came and went, and Geoffrey was still a virtual prisoner in Aurora's house. He made several attempts to escape, but all failed. He could not break free of her power since the urges of the flesh continued to win the battle with his intellect.
He paced the floor. The unfinished outline of his book lay on top of the dresser.
Not so long ago, he thought despondently, I was a bestselling author, an erudite scholar and a sophisticated world traveler. Now I've been reduced to a mindless beast, a victim of my own baser instincts.
Disgusted with his empty, meaningless, prurient existence, he swept his hands across the dresser and sent his papers to the floor in a flurry.
"Lizzie Borden took an axe," he began reciting with bitterness. "Gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one."
As he spoke, Geoffrey could feel the numbing spell Aurora had cast on him gradually slip away.
"That's it!" he cried. "I'll fight fire with fire, pit one mindless animal instinct against another."
Neither logic nor common sense was effective against his demon-induced lust. Perhaps blind rage would work where intelligence failed.
* * *
Geoffrey's body tensed when he heard the key in the lock and saw his bedroom door open. Aurora walked in and set down on the chair beside the bed.
"You've started a fire. How romantic!"
Mai Ly walked in behind her employer and without a word or a look in his direction, she put his dinner tray on the bed and left, leaving the door unlocked behind her. Geoffrey considered making a run for it, but he realized he would not get far with Aurora so close. No. He must stick to his plan.
"Why aren't you working on your book?" Aurora asked when she saw the pages of his outline on the floor.
"Is there any point? Obviously, it will never be published."
He spoke the words calmly, but inside his head he had already begun fighting against her spell.
Lizzie Borden took an axe ....
"True, but it will give you something to do with your days."
Geoffrey ignored Aurora's reply, letting his anger slowly build.
... gave her mother forty whacks ....
"You better eat your dinner before it gets cold."
... when she saw what she had done ....
Geoffrey picked up the sandwich and began to chew.
... she gave her father forty-one.
"That's a good boy. You have to keep up your strength."
Lizzie Borden took an axe ....
Geoffrey's left hand clenched and unclenched.
... gave her mother forty whacks ....
"You're awfully quiet tonight. What's wrong? Aren't you feeling well?"
... when she saw what she had done ....
Geoffrey could feel the radiating warmth that the demon exuded.
... she gave her father forty-one.
The scent of her perfume (or was it a natural pheromone to attract her prey?) enveloped him.
Lizzie Borden took an axe ....
Sweat beaded on his brow as Aurora walked toward him.
... gave her mother forty whacks ....
As she moved, the fan which was loosely tied to her wrist with a black velvet ribbon, swung against her thigh.
... when she saw what she had done ....
Aurora leaned forward, her lips seeking his.
"SHE GAVE HER FATHER FORTY-ONE!" Geoffrey shouted in her face.
Then he shoved her with all his strength. At the same time, he reached for the fan and yanked it from her wrist. Aurora stumbled backward, and before she could right herself, Geoffrey tossed the fan into the fireplace.
"No!" the succubus screamed.
When she tried to extract the melting fan from the flames, her sleeve caught on fire. With the fan destroyed, Aurora began to age rapidly. Her dress was soon engulfed, and her charred skin fell from her smoldering bones. As her skeletal hand reached out to grab him, Geoffrey was sickened by the perfume scent, which was now mixed with the stench of burning flesh. In a defensive maneuver he remembered from his high school football days, he dodged the demon's grasp and ran out the door.
The house, like its owner, had undergone a drastic transformation. There were holes in the graffiti covered walls; the carpets were frayed, worn and filthy; the ceiling was stained; and there was no sign of the artwork or antique furnishings that had impressed him upon his arrival.
No sooner did Geoffrey escape the old, abandoned house than he heard the third floor collapse. At the jarring sound, neighbors ran out of their houses and congregated on the overgrown, unkempt lawn.
"Are you all right, fellow?" one of the men asked. "Don't you know it's unsafe to go inside that old place? It was condemned years ago. I don't know why the town hasn't torn it down yet."
Geoffrey realized his belongings were still inside the house, but he did not dare go back in for them. He wanted to get far away from Puritan Falls as quickly as possible.
* * *
Geoffrey Watts sat at a table inside the Barnes & Noble bookstore in Arlington, Virginia, amidst a crowd of customers waiting to have copies of his bestselling book on Lizzie Borden signed by the author.
An attractive young woman placed her book in front of him and asked, "Can you make it out to Alyssa?"
"Certainly," he replied and began writing with his black, fine tip Sharpie.
Suddenly, a familiar and terrifying scent filled his nostrils. He looked up at the woman, but the fragrance was not coming from her.
She's here in this room, he thought with mounting panic.
Geoffrey quickly scribbled the inscription, handed the book back to the young woman and commenced repeating the life-saving mantra in his mind.
Lizzie Borden took an axe ....
Salem, you can wave that fan in front of your face until your paw falls off, but you're still not going to look like Leonardo DiCaprio!
