1722

Copyright 2023 Blackwych Books All Rights Reserved This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental. Kindle edition First published in June 2023 by Blackwych Books, London Hadlow House has stood empty ever since the tragic events that claimed the lives of its first owner. Now, however, a new family is moving to the house, bringing fresh life to halls and rooms that have for so long remained dormant.But do echoes of the past remain, lurking in the shadows?At first Hadlow House seems idyllic, but cracks soon start to show. Old voices are heard, but are they offering threats or a warning? By the time the truth becomes clear, Hadlow House might well be ready to claim yet another victim. Patience Butler and her parents have no idea what they're facing as they move into the house and try to turn it into a home.1722 is the second book in the Haunting of Hadlow House series, which tells the story of one haunted house over the centuries from its construction to the present day. All the lives, all the souls, all the tragedies... and all the ghosts. Readers are advised to start with the first book in the series. Contents Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Epilogue 1722 (The Haunting of Hadlow House book 2) Prologue The house stood empty and quiet, as it had stood empty and quiet now for more than three decades. As late afternoon light streamed through the window, bringing with it the shadows of bushes and trees outside, the old study revealed layers of dust covering every surface. No living thing had entered this house for many years, not so much as a fly had breached any of the rooms, and the only sound came from the rustling of the nearby forest. Somewhere in the distance a crow called out, swiftly answered by another, but these sounds of life could have come from another world. This was a house that – having been sealed for so long – seemed now to almost exist in another world. Up on the landing, more dust drifted through a shaft of sunlight that had broken through one of the windows. Here too the house remained deserted, save for one thing. At the top of the stairs, on the curve of the banister, there rested one pale hand. Chapter One 17th March 1722... The streets of London were cacophonous, filled with the sound of carriages and voices and the growing pains of industry. Anyone watching from afar would be unable to pick out much order in this chaos, and would instead see a streaming mass of people and horses rushing in every conceivable direction, pushing against the walls of buildings as if to test just how far they might go. Somewhere in this hysterical crowd, one particular man threaded his way between heaving bodies. Unlike many of those around him, Samuel Butler knew exactly where he was going. *** “He doesn't even speak English,” Toby Wallace murmured as he sat at his desk in the office of Saville and Wallace, a few streets back from The Strand. “Can you comprehend that? We have a king on the throne who doesn't even speak our language?” “This is what we fought for, apparently,” Samuel pointed out with a faint, wry smile. “Better a foreigner than a Catholic, or at least that's what I was told.” “Meanwhile the population has become overrun by a craze for bad living,” Toby continued, sighing for what must have been the hundredth time since he'd sat down. He turned and looked over at the nearest window, as if searching for confirmation of his fears. “Great rivers of alcohol run through parts of this city, turning the faces of our workers red and puffy. How are we still to be considered a serious country? How are we to be considered a force? Why, have we not invited our own invasion?” “I do not mean to change the subject,” Samuel replied cautiously, “but I confess that I am anxious to learn more of this opportunity you mentioned. In your letter of last Tuesday, you suggested that a position might have opened up beyond the city.” “Indeed,” Toby said, nodding sagely before looking down at the documents spread out across his desk. “It is exceedingly rare for something like this to occur, but a chance has come up for a good man to oversee the transformation of some land. Have you ever heard of Cobblefield?” “Should I have?” “Not really. It's a village down in Kent. Anyway, the long and the short of it is, my company has come into possession of a tract of land that might be suitable for any of a number of purposes. The area is rather underdeveloped, as these countryside locations tend to be. Ordinarily I would not go to such extremes in my attempt to turn the place around, but for two factors that make this particular situation different. First, I foresee the potential for a rather healthy financial return. And second, by the grace of God, this land comes with a property.” “Oh?” Samuel shifted a little in his seat. “What kind of property?” “Well, there's a house there,” Toby told him. “I haven't seen it myself, but by all accounts it's fairly new, it was built thirty or so years ago by someone who then rather lost the plot. Literally and figuratively. So, you see, if you were to move your young family down there, you