Conor peered through the elaborate wrought ironwork of the huge gothic gates. 'This place looks like something out of an old horror movie.'

Becky followed his gaze across the long, tree lined driveway to the huge mansion house at its far end. Its arched doorway, tall chimneys and run-down appearance certainly gave off a horror-film vibe. 'I've read all about this place. It was glorious in its prime. Lavish banquets were held here for royalty and nobles alike. And as for the ballroom, with its polished oak floor and viewing galleries above, it was second to none in the whole country. Imagine all the swirling gowns that once graced that dancefloor.'

'Are you alright, Becks?' Liam grinned. 'You sound like you've swallowed a dictionary.'

'I'm just really excited that we're going inside. Not many people get the chance to go near the place these days. I've always wanted to see it properly.'

Alessia shivered. 'I wish I could share your enthusiasm.'

'Are you picking up on something?' asked Liam.

'Yes, but I'm not sure what it is.'

'I guess we'll soon find out.' Conor nodded at the ageing man who was approaching from the other side of the gate. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere. 'That must be the caretaker. I think they said his name is Stiles.'

The man fixed his eyes on Alessia. His expression suggested that he didn't approve of goths. 'Are you the Spectre Detectors?'

'We don't call ourselves that,' Conor corrected him, 'but we are the paranormal investigators, if that's what you mean.'

Grasping the heavy bunch of keys that was dangling from his belt by a chain, the man started fiddling with the padlock on the gate. 'What do you call yourselves then?'

'We haven't really thought of a name yet.'

The heavy gate creaked as it opened just enough for the teenagers to slip through. Then it was pushed closed and secured with the padlock again.

Conor set down his holdall and camera case, to rest his aching arms. 'Are you Mr Stiles?'

'I don't call myself that.' The man stooped to pluck some weeds from the cracks in the paving. 'But I am the caretaker, if that's what you mean.'

'I'm Becky and these are my cousins, Conor and Liam. And this is our friend, Alessia.'

Stiles grunted dismissively and then turned towards the house. 'Follow me.'

A tall thin lady in her early sixties opened the massive oak door before they even began to mount the stone steps towards it.

'The Spectre Detectors have arrived, Mrs Stiles,' announced the caretaker, as he reached the final step.

'Thank you, Mr Stiles,' she replied.

The pair exchanged glances as he passed her by and headed into the house.

'Hello,' said Becky brightly, 'I'm...'

'Let's go in,' interrupted Mrs Stiles, turning to follow the caretaker through the door.

The building was just as gloomy on the inside. The daylight could barely penetrate the years of grime caked on the window panes that were hanging precariously inside their rotting frames.

Liam wrinkled up his nose and whispered to his brother, 'It smells like a library full of musty old books in here.'

Becky crossed the tiled hallway towards the magnificent staircase. Running her fingers over one of the carved pineapple finials that topped the ends of the wooden banister, she stared up at the dusty crystal chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling. 'This is where Sir Edmund and Lady Jane first professed their undying love.'

'It was also where she died,' added Alessia, quietly.

Mrs Stiles pursed her lips. 'I see you both know something of the house's history.'

'I've read quite a bit about it,' admitted Becky.

'I'd never even heard of the place until yesterday.' Alessia stared up at the portrait of a beautiful young woman above the hallway fireplace. Dark ringlets partially obscured her swan-like neck, which was adorned with an elaborate emerald necklace. Her sumptuous, off-the-shoulder ballgown was the same striking green colour and its huge hooped skirt curved dramatically outwards from her impossibly tiny waist, whilst she gazed wistfully off into distance. 'This is her, isn't it?'

'Yes,' replied Mrs Stiles. 'That's Lady Jane.'

'Wait a minute, that's here, in this hallway.' Conor looked around. 'In the painting Lady Jane is standing over there, beside the staircase, exactly where Becky is now.'

He was right. She was even resting her fingers on the same pineapple finial.

Becky quickly snatched back her hand. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed a bit irreverent to be adopting the same pose as a long-dead member of the British aristocracy.

Everyone jumped as the grandfather clock on the far side of the hallway started chiming.

'Why is it doing that?' enquired Liam. 'It's hands are on ten past three.'

'It hasn't worked properly for as long as I've been in service here,' muttered Mrs Stiles. 'Now, if you're done looking at the family portraits, come along. Master Richard has informed me that you'll be staying for a few nights as it's half term. I'll show you to your rooms.'

'Where is Richard?' enquired Becky. 'He said he'd be here.'

'He and his father will be back in time for dinner,' replied Mrs Stiles, stiffly. 'Mr Stiles will show you around the house once you've settled into your rooms. You have some equipment to set up, I understand?'

'That's right.' Conor glanced over at the pile of baggage they'd stashed near the front door.

'It's OK.' Alessia smiled. 'We'll be careful not to damage anything.'

A strange look crossed the housekeeper's face, as though Alessia had just read her mind. Then she spun on her heel and headed up the stairs. 'Come along. I don't have time to stand around gossiping all day.'

'It's going to be dark soon,' announced Mr Stiles. 'I think you've seen enough of the place for one day.'

He pushed on the section of wall beside him and it swung open.

'Wow!' Liam looked astonished. 'I'd never have guessed that was a door.'

Conor took a peek inside. 'It's a secret staircase.'

His brother chuckled. 'This place is like Hogwarts.'

'The building looks huge on the outside, but somehow it seems even bigger inside.' Becky was still bubbling with enthusiasm for the place. 'If we weren't following you around the house, I think we'd be lost by now, Mr Stiles. We've already seen at least five sets of stairs, not including the main staircase. It's very disorientating. Why are there so many of them?'

'Well, in the old days there would have been an army of servants here.' He pulled the door closed behind them and squeezed past everyone, so he could precede them up the stairs. 'One set leads to the female quarters and another to the men's. Others stairs were communal, for serving meals, housekeeping and maintenance and all that. But the ones that are concealed behind false walls, like this one, nobody really knows. I can only assume they were a means of getting around the place without being seen.'

Conor was first to start following him up the stairs. 'Maybe there are other hidden staircases just waiting for us to discover them.'

'It's all very exciting.' Becky spotted yet another portrait of Lady Jane Beaufort at the top of the stairwell. She pulled out her phone and prodded Conor in the back. 'Can you duck out of the way please? I want to take a selfie with that painting in the background. This is such a fabulous house.'

'It's falling apart,' grumbled the caretaker, still ascending the stairs. 'The roof leaks, the pipes leak and the walls are crumbling. His Lordship needs to inject some serious cash into the place before it falls down altogether.'

'What about the strange occurrences and all the untimely deaths?' Alessia's question obviously struck a chord. Stiles came to a halt just a few steps below the landing, but he didn't reply, or even turn around.

Everyone was forced to stop behind him.

'All of them were female, weren't they?' pressed Alessia.

'Including Richard's mother,' chimed Becky. 'He told me that she died in a car crash when he was a small child. His grandmother died young too, she fell off a horse when his father was just a toddler.'

'It's not for me to say,' grunted Stiles, still stationary, with his back to them.

'His great-grandmother also met a sticky end, as did her mother and grandmother.' Alessia glanced at the portrait. 'And before them was Lady Jane Beaufort. She was only twenty three when she fell down the main staircase to her death. It all started with her.'

Stiles spun around to face them. 'Even Master Richard doesn't know that, so how do you?'

'There are some things that I just know.'

'She's a sensitive,' explained Liam.

'I can feel a presence here.' Alessia scanned around the dark, wood-panelled walls, as though something nasty was about to pounce.

Liam looked up at her. 'A ghost?'

'Oh there are plenty of ghosts in this house, but no, this is something quite different.' She closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. Then they snapped open and she stared at the empty space beside her. 'Papu?'

'Who's she talking to?' hissed Stiles.

Conor and Becky looked at each other and shrugged.

'There's a great darkness hanging over this family.' Alessia took a deep breath. 'I believe they may be cursed.'

'Cursed?' Conor scratched his head. 'By who?'

'All I know is that it started with Lady Jane and every generation since her death, someone who married into the family has also died. They are always young, always female and always married to the first born heir.'

'My father talked of a curse,' admitted Stiles, 'as did his father before him.'

'Your family has worked at Beaufort Hall all long,' proclaimed Alessia.

'Aye. Ever since the place was first built, back in the eighteenth century.'

'Then you could be very valuable to our investigation, Mr Stiles.' Conor locked eyes with him. 'Will you help us, please?'

'If that's what His Lordship wants.'

'His Lordship wants all this to stop.' Becky's tone was firm. 'You might be able to help us make that happen, so I very much doubt that he will object.'

Liam called up from the bottom of the stairs. 'I have a theory. What if Lady Jane was angry about her death and jealous of the other women living here, in her place?'

The wall-lights flickered.

'Maybe she was so venomous that she cursed her own family,' he continued.

The paintings on both sides of the narrow staircase started juddering.

'I mean, to make her own grandson and his descendants lose their mothers to freak accidents, when they were all too young to even remember them. That would take a special kind of evil, right?'

The lights went out, leaving the windowless staircase in complete darkness.

Becky felt something whizz past her and heard Liam yelp.

Then the lights flashed three times and came back on.

Stiles was aghast. 'What was that?'

'The painting.' Alessia pointed to the top of the landing, where Lady Jane's portrait had been. 'It's gone.'

Becky turned to look down the stairs. Liam was clinging onto the handrail, looking slightly dazed. The painting's wooden stretcher frame was hanging around his neck and the torn canvas was draped over his shoulders, like fringes. 'It looks like Lady Jane hit him over the head with it.'

'The EMF was off the scale.' Conor looked down at his brother. 'I've warned you what can happen when you antagonise an angry spirit.'

'It had to be done.' Liam lifted the portrait over his head and handed it upwards. 'At least we now know who we're dealing with.'

Alessia held onto the shredded painting for a moment before passing it up to Becky.

'You mean you did that on purpose?' Stiles shook his head in disbelief when Conor handed him the torn portrait. 'Look at this. I'm not sure it can be mended. What am I going to tell His Lordship?'

'Tell him that his great granny, or whatever she is, is pissed off,' retorted Liam.

'Look, we're very sorry about the painting,' interrupted Becky, 'but my cousin didn't throw it, Lady Jane did. Also, Liam has saved us a whole bunch of time trying to figure out the cause of all the trouble. When Richard contacted me, he told me that he's due to get married soon and he really doesn't want his fiancée to meet the same sort of grisly ending as his mother, so time is crucial here.'

'He also said we're to do anything necessary to stop this thing,' added Conor, 'so I'm sure he'll understand.'

'I'm glad it was just a painted canvas that she hurled at me. If it had been framed and behind glass, like all the others on these walls, it could have killed me.'

'Yes.'  Alessia had a curious look on her face as she studied the other paintings. 'That was lucky.'

'I wish we had more equipment,' complained Conor. 'This house is so huge that we're barely scratching the surface with our regular stuff.'

'We've moved everything three times and it always seems to be set up in exactly the wrong place.' Becky glanced towards the open door. 'Where is Liam. He's been gone ages.'

'He must have got lost on the way back from the loo again. I've told him to tie a ball of string to the doorhandle as he's leaving, so he can follow it on his way back, but he doesn't listen.' Conor tapped on his laptop keyboard and sighed. 'That's it, I've viewed every bit of the footage. All we caught on camera last night was a couple of orbs near the ballroom and a mouse scuttling around one of the corridors.'

'I wish we'd concentrated on the kitchen instead. It must have been mayhem in there, judging by the mess this morning.' Becky ran her fingers across the row of books on the free-standing shelf in front of her. 'There were cornflakes everywhere, even trailed along the corridors right into the entrance hall.'

'That's what it's like at home every morning. It was probably just Liam having his breakfast.'

'I heard that.' Liam appeared in the doorway. 'Very funny.'

'Did you get lost again, bro?'

'The house is like a maze.' Liam gazed around the vast room, filled floor to ceiling with books. 'I mean, look at this library with its rows and rows of bookshelves. It's bigger than the council one in town. It'd be easy to get lost just in this room.'

'Look what I've found.' Becky blew on the book she'd plucked from the shelf and a cloud of dust billowed around her. 'It's an 1897 first edition of Bram Stoker's "Dracula".'

'He probably lived here once,' muttered Conor. 'Dracula I mean, not Bram Stoker.'

'The place is spooky enough.' Liam arrived beside his cousin, to take a look at the book in her hands.

'Watch out!' Becky pushed him aside as another book fell from a higher shelf, almost hitting him on the head.

'That pretty much confirms that Lady Jane doesn't want me in her house after what happened last night on the stairs.' He looked up to check there were no more dangerously overhanging books before stooping to pick up the fallen tome. 'What a coincidence, this is called "The history of Beaufort Hall".'

Becky carefully slid "Dracula" back into its gap on the shelf and turned to face him. 'Let's take it over to the reading table. It might be of help, especially as we haven't managed to get much information out of Mr Stiles as yet.'

'I suspect we can thank His Lordship for that.' Conor tapped his pencil on his notepad. 'He was a bit cagey at dinner last night, especially when we asked if Stiles could fill us in on what he knows.'

Voices drifted in from the corridor outside.

Conor flicked between the cameras on his monitor. 'It's Alessia and Richard. They're back.' 'Did you detect anything untoward in the attic?' enquired Liam, as they entered the library.

Alessia approached the reading table and leaned over Becky's shoulder to see what she was reading. 'Lots of buckets and pails filled with rainwater, that's all.'

'The roof leaks and the repair costs are going to be astronomical, so we just can't afford it at the moment.' Richard slumped into one of the chairs. 'It's a shame Father didn't open the house to the public when it was still in passable condition. He could have put any cash he made towards getting the old thing fixed up. It's a bit late now. Nobody will want to pay to come and see it as it is. Sad really, as it's only going to rot.'

'Maybe you could open it up as a haunted mansion,' suggested Liam. 'People pay for that sort of stuff.'

'I'm kind of hoping that it won't be haunted by the time you guys leave. Chinara absolutely refuses to come near the place until the spooks are gone.'

'Chinara?' Liam looked at him blankly.

'My fiancée.'

'It's a lovely name.' Alessia smiled.

'She's a lovely girl. Not that Father approves, of course. I knew he wouldn't. He wanted me to marry some rich aristocrat, not a common Londoner with Nigerian heritage. He demanded that I wait until I'm at least twenty five. As if two more years is going to change my mind. I've been with Chinara longer than that already. We met in freshers week at Uni, you see.'

'Your father doesn't seem all that pleased about us being here either,' observed Conor.

'It was my idea to call you in. I read about you in the local papers. Anyway, Father knows that Chinara is superstitious and I think he's hoping that our family history will scare her off. He doesn't want you to get rid of whatever it is that plagues us, at least, not until after she gets rid of me. But that's never going to happen. We're getting married with, or without his blessing and if that means moving into her little flat in Hackney, then so be it. I don't relish the thought of living in this draughty mausoleum anyway.'

Conor searched through the papers on the desk. He was sure his pencil had been there a moment ago. 'Why did you call us in then, if you're happy to move away?'

'I was worried that the misfortunes of my ancestors might not be confined to this house. What if the bad luck follows me all the way to Hackney. I don't want anything to happen to Chinara.'

'Now that we know we're dealing with a curse, there's every likelihood that could happen.' Alessia's expression was grim. 'Curses are scarily portable.'

The grandfather clock started chiming in the entrance hall.

Conor paused the search for his pencil and glanced at his watch. 'Ten past three, on the dot.'

'It did the same thing at ten past three this morning too.' Liam yawned.

'It's the only times it chimes. Twice a day, at ten past three precisely. Father says it's faulty, but we can't find the key to open it up. So we can't get it repaired.'

'It's the time that she died.' Alessia was staring out of the huge bow window, but her words sent shivers up everyone's spines.

They all knew that she was referring to Lady Jane Beaufort.

To be continued...