“I am not dead. Elsie recited the words as her carriage sluiced through country roads, churning up clods of mud. The wheels made a wet, sucking noise. I am not dead. But it was hard to believe, looking through the rain-spattered window at the ghost of her reflection: pale skin, cadaverous cheeks; curls eclipsed by black gauze.
Outside the sky was iron grey, the monotony broken only by crows. Mile after mile and the scenery did not change. Stubble fields, skeletal trees. They are burying me, she realized. They are burying me along with Rupert.” Laura Purcell, The Silent Companions
When newly widowed Elsie is sent to see out her pregnancy at her late husband’s crumbling country estate, what greets her is far from the life of wealth and privilege she was expecting . . .
When Elsie married handsome young heir Rupert Bainbridge, she believed she was destined for a life of luxury. But with her husband dead just weeks after their marriage, her new servants resentful, and the local villagers actively hostile, Elsie has only her husband’s awkward cousin for company. Or so she thinks. Inside her new home lies a locked door, beyond which is a painted wooden figure—a silent companion—that bears a striking resemblance to Elsie herself. The residents of the estate are terrified of the figure, but Elsie tries to shrug this off as simple superstition—that is, until she notices the figure’s eyes following her.
A Victorian ghost story that evokes a most unsettling kind of fear, The Silent Companions is a tale that creeps its way through the consciousness in ways you least expect—much like the companions themselves.
At an ancient English estate, alternating between 1635 and 1865, The Silent Companions is a dual narrative about a house whose evil history rendered it haunted. Because the events at the estate following Elsie’s husband’s death have driven her to St. Joseph’s Hospital for the Insane, the story is slowly revealed during her therapy.
The pervading tension and ominous warnings, the dangerous explorations of the troubled house, and the slowly unraveling grip on reality of those dwelling within its walls make for captivating, frightening reading. The time periods are equally interesting, and the climax is gruesome and disturbing.
Notes of Poe, hints of Shirley Jackson, and an overall Hitchcockian sense of the macabre pervade The Silent Companions and firmly place Purcell with the masters of Gothic storytelling. If you enjoy a scary, atmospheric tale, I highly recommend it.