Topic: Shades, Shadows, and Spirits - Life at Blackmoor Manor

Heathcliff Blackmoor · Date: 2015-09-23 20:19 EST

He sat alone in the east tower of the estate, staring out at the forbidding, harsh, and isolated Yorkshire moor. It seemed to stretch for miles. He had wandered out upon it briefly on his arrival until Angus, the caretaker and, previously the lone resident of Blackmoor Manor, had warned him. There are many skeletons out there on that moor Master. Lost and never found, most of 'em. I'd wager most of 'em never will be found. All kinds of nasties out there to be sure. All kinds of nasties indeed. He'd dismissed the old man but decided to be cautious none the less. Something told him that good old Angus knew quite a bit more than he was willing to say. In any event, he'd retired for the day, determined to explore the moor another time.

Now, he sat there in the tower and watched the wind whistle across the moor. The heather and grass waved slightly in the wind, seemingly begrudging the intrusion. There were dark, brackish puddles of water, and both large and small rocks strewn about as if tossed there by some ancient giant. A most desolate and depressing view, a most desolate and depressing place.

Now, as he thoughts grew restless and heavy, he wondered silently at the events that had brought him to his isolated existence.

Heathcliff Blackmoor · Date: 2015-10-02 22:22 EST

He had been sitting alone, as usual, in his small flat in the east end of London. A run down, low rent, and maybe even a little dangerous part of the old city it was. He was looking over his list of expenses and comparing it to his current income. It appeared something was going to go unpaid this month. Truth be told, something went unpaid nearly every month. He had become quite good at juggling the payments between creditors, just enough to keep them off of his back and keep himself out of the workhouse.

Just as he had closed his ledger, there came a knock on his door. He hadn't been expecting anyone so it came as a bit of surprise. He had no real friends to speak of so he knew the chances of it being a social call were slim. It had to be bad news. Perhaps a creditor after all or perhaps the Constable come to take him to the workhouse for forgetting too long about a debt owed. He had prepared for the worst and reluctantly opened the door.

He was surprised to see two very well dressed and well fed gentlemen on his doorstep. Do we have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Heathcliff Blackmoor, the taller of the two inquired. Heath had responded with a simple nod, You do.

The two men had brushed right past him and into the small cramped foyer. The shorter one handed him a rather thick scroll of paper and spoke quickly.We are from the firm of Barthwick and Pickett. We are here on behalf of the estate of the late Lord Reginald Blackmoor, recently deceased. With that he unrolled his own scroll of paper and read aloud. And to the last living Blackmoor descendant, being identified as one Heathcliff Blackmoor most recently of Lincoln Street in London, shall pass all existing lands, properties, and titles therein inclusive with the title to Blackmoor Manor. An existing annuity to be provided for once residency is assumed at said Blackmoor Manor. In the event said Heathcliff Blackmoor is unable or unwilling to agree to said arrangement, all lands, properties and titles contained therein shall be forfeited to the Crown.

Heath had shaken his head, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. The Barrister removed a quill and small inkpot from somewhere inside his expensive looking overcoat and extended each to Heath. Simply sign here if you would sir and we will be on our way. Heath had started to reply but the taller of the two men had silenced him with a hand. Everything else you need to know will be explained in the document we have provided you. Heath had scribbled his name on the other document and handed it back. Good day both of the men had mumbled with a tip of their respective hats. They were gone almost as quickly as they had come.

Heath spent the rest of the day reading over the document. He hadn't really understood a lot of it but some of it was very clear. He had inherited Blackmoor Manor. He would receive a monthly stipend, enough to care for the Manor, it's staff, and himself. He was to take the train from London north to Yorkshire. He would end in the town of Whitby and be taken by coach and four to Blackmoor Manor. The Manor was a days ride north to the coast of the North Sea. There he would be met by whatever staff remained at the Manor. The agreement gave him ten days from the signing of the agreement to arrive.

In the end, it hadn't really mattered to him. He had nothing holding him here in London. If this all turned out to be a fancy lark of some sort, he had nothing to lose. He had made the necessary arrangements the next morning, using all that was left of his meager savings to pay for transportation. Three days later he stood, bags in hand, at the front gates of Blackmoor Manor.