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The first time that a presence appeared in a Hastings household – or at least the first time that either of the Bassett parents knew of it – happened a few months short of Amelia’s second birthday. On their way to their bedchambers at Hastings House in London, the two parents peeked into the nursery at the little girl and her baby sister and saw her standing in her crib, happily chatting in her toddler voice. Simon only thought how adorable she looked and sounded and how peacefully little Belinda slept. Daphne, who had spent far more time around young children than her husband, noticed something peculiar; Amelia did not appear to be simply talking but instead taking turns in a conversation. The girl’s gaze stayed fixed on the nearby rocking chair, and Daphne could have sworn she saw the empty chair rock.
Daphne tried to whisper her concerns to Simon while she continued watching their daughter, but after Daphne’s first comment to her husband, Amelia seemed to pause and then turned toward the door as if she had been alerted to their presence. Amelia’s curls bounced as she jumped excitedly and squealed, “Mama! Papa!” and their faces changed from concern to delight as they opened the door fully to cuddle her again but also quiet her to keep her from waking her sister. Simon scooped her out of her crib and cuddled her and then after he handed her to her mother, he watched as the now-sleepy toddler rested her head on Daphne’s shoulder and he stared in quiet amazement as she seemed to wave her dimpled hand in the direction of the rocking chair. After they had tucked her back in her crib and Simon sang her to sleep, they slipped out of the room. Thoughts raced through their minds, but the couple waited until they arrived in their bedroom to discuss what they had observed. They took turns sharing what they had observed, and each commented on how peculiar the scene had been, but they both hesitated to draw any conclusions, avoiding the words “spirit,” “ghost,” or any other supernatural explanation of their daughter’s interactions, but speaking indirectly, they shared the thought between them.
The Basset parents remained observant of Amelia and conferred with each other to confirm that neither had seen anything strange, and neither did until a couple months later on a visit to the Clyvedon, the seat of the Hastings duchy. First Simon and then the next night Daphne observed their first daughter again appearing to have a conversation with no one. Simon felt alarmed; he had not thought it before, but now that the girl neared two years of age, what if her behavior signaled something strange and unusual about the girl’s speech and manner of communication? What if while her words sounded fine, she developed a strange manner of conversation, not knowing when to speak and to whom? What if her behavior had no supernatural basis but originated from his own troubles speaking as a child, only manifesting differently than his awful stammer?
After their two girls fell asleep, Simon spoke to his wife, now expecting their third child, “Daphne, I know we have entertained some strange and fantastical explanations for Amelia’s peculiar way of talking, but what if it has a more ordinary but also problematic explanation?”
“What do you mean, Simon?” and she set down her teacup and furrowed her brow in concern.
With stress and sorrow on his face, her husband asked her, “You know of the difficulties I had speaking as a child. What if Amelia’s strange speech is related to what I experienced? What if she has developed strange notions about how to communicate with others?”
“Sit with me, my love,” and she grasped his hand, prompting him to join her on the loveseat, and he wrapped her in his arms. She kissed the back of one of his hands and considered what she could say to help assuage his fears. “Simon, I cannot know how much you struggled a young boy; my heart aches every time I think of it, but you mustn’t worry so about Amelia,” she directed her words gently to him and sat up and turned to look into his eyes. Then she made a connection that had not previously come to her, “You and I agree that her behavior has been odd at times, but I have heard of children having imagined playmates. I should have thought of the possibility sooner! It would explain her behavior completely,” and she laughed, scolding herself with this realization.
Simon looked curious at his wife’s suggestion and she sat up, rubbing her growing belly as she began to explain to him. “I have heard of these imagined friends in other families; my mother said that none of us Bridgertons showed evidence of an imagined playmate,” and here she paused for a moment and thought, “I suppose one would have been quite unnecessary when we all had real playmates in the house from Benedict’s birth on,” and then she returned to the present. “I think that must be what has been happening with our darling Amelia. She says real words and sentences and pretends as though an imaginary friend can reply to her.”
“I suppose that does not sound as bad as I feared, but will she outgrow it?” her father asked. “I must confess that I find the sight a bit unnerving.”
“Yes, as I understand it, children who imagine a playmate typically outgrow the notion while they are still quite small.”
“That is a relief,” Simon sighed, “Now, enough talk of imaginary friends! I would like to have some real fun with my wife,” and Daphne giggled as he stood and scooped her up to take her to bed. The parents could not know that at that very moment both Amelia and Belinda, who, at not a year, spoke in adorable baby babble, had woken up in the nursery and engaged in happy conversation with a third party in their nursery.
The duke and duchess had agreed that the imaginary friend theory made the most sense of any they had considered; they could see that Amelia had a quick mind and surmised that she must have invented a friend to entertain herself and then Belinda as well. Over the months that followed as the girls grew and became more active and verbal, they seemed to chat mostly with each other, but on occasion, whether in London or in their country estate, the girls did seem to entertain their invisible friend. The parents began to question the theory, however, as the parents and some of the Hastings staff, most often the governesses, noticed items going missing and then reappearing elsewhere in the house or the rocking chair moving, seemingly on its own, or the nursery curtains opened in the morning before either parent or any staff had entered. Whatever might be happening centered on the girls.
On a visit to Clyvedon, much to the girls’ delight, the parents had begun allowing the family’s enormous hunting hounds to spend time in the house, and the dogs, with their training and good temperaments showed great patience with the little girls and served as happy magnets for the girls’ attention once the duchess gave birth to the third Basset sister. One evening Daphne tended to baby Caroline, and Simon told the governess that he would tuck the older girls into their beds himself. Samson, one of the two hounds, accompanied the father and the little girls to the nursery, but when the dog entered, his eyes appeared fixed on a spot across the room and he whimpered.
Amelia tilted her head and looked at the dog, and trying to soothe him, told him, “It’s alright, Sam. See? Do not be afraid. See?” as she gestured in the direction of the dog’s gaze. Nearby, Belinda smiled approvingly, but the girls’ father observed the dog’s unease and he felt uneasy himself, not knowing what had provoked the dog’s reaction and now feeling skeptical of the imaginary friend theory that he and Daphne had discussed.
Heading up to the duke-and-duchess chambers, Simon mulled over what to say to his wife about what he had witnessed. After kissing her lips and then baby Caroline’s head, he sat and took his boots off and described their dog’s behavior and then commented, “I know it sounds mad, Daphne, but it truly looked as though Samson could see or at least sense someone else in the room, which is not possible with an imaginary friend, and Amelia telling the dog to see, as though she can actually see another person. It seemed that the friend was not imaginary but rather invisible.” Simon had a bewildered look in his eyes at the thoughts that had just left his lips.
“Simon, I am too tired to ponder this at the moment, but could it not be that Samson reacted to something in the room – I don’t know – a shadow or a piece of furniture? Dogs can be so particular at times. And as for Amelia, if she has had an imaginary friend for as long as we have suspected, well, she might also imagine that she can see her.”
Her husband pressed his lips together in thought. “Possible, I suppose, but what about the disappearing and reappearing objects and –”
Daphne interrupted him, “No more tonight, Simon. I can barely keep my eyes open. Please put Caroline in the bassinet, and I will say a quick but fervent prayer for the health and safety of all three of our darling girls before I fall asleep for the night,” and within a minute the duchess fell asleep, having no energy to discuss frightened dogs and imaginary friends.
Over the next year, the peculiar happenings became so common at whichever Hastings property they resided, that the duke and duchess did not give it much thought anymore. The children played happily but did not mention their unseen companion and the other effects around the houses seemed harmless enough or even beneficial: the smell of apple blossoms from out of nowhere, messy toys tidied up, a few notes on the piano when no one touched it, flowers staying fresh in a certain vase much longer than would be expected, curtains opening and closing and the like. The Basset family became so accustomed to these benign occurrences that Daphne could not believe her shock when her Clyvedon housekeeper Mrs. Colson informed her that a maid had quit because she believed that house haunted and feared malevolent spirits, which Mrs. Colson thought utterly ridiculous.
The duchess laughed at the notion of a malevolent spirit when she informed her husband over tea, but he paused and considered the possibility, asking her, “What if my father’s spirit has manifested? I would most certainly classify him as malevolent in his living years. I imagine he’d be much the same in the beyond.”
Daphne did not want to dismiss her husband’s fears without consideration, and so she paused before replying, “I must take your word for it - well, and everyone else who knew you both, it seems - but, Simon, nothing we have witnessed feels malevolent to me. If we have a spirit here, I would say he is a benevolent one.”
About a year later, when Daphne was heavily pregnant with a child they would name David if the child were born a boy, Amelia and Belinda both patted her belly one day and said, “baby David.”
Daphne smiled at their affection for the baby but corrected them, “Now girls, we do not know if the baby is a boy or a girl. We cannot know until the baby is born.”
Four-year old Amelia looked quite serious though and spoke with certainty, “She told us the baby is a boy.”
“Who told you? Simon asked in confusion.
“The one who only children can see,” Belinda’s little voice squeaked out.
Simon and Daphne exchanged a look; they had both hoped their daughter might only be referring to a governess, but they knew and would discuss with each other later that their young daughter was referring to that friend that neither parent could see. The spirit or friend had seemed benevolent so far, but the parents still felt unsettled by it communicating with the girls about the baby and confusing them with a prediction.
Remaining calm in spite of his unsettled feelings, their father asked, “What else does she say?”
“She said that Papa is a very good papa and Mama is a very good mama.”
“Well, that is quite lovely to hear,” replied the girls’ mother, and she made a note to herself to ask Mrs. Colson, who knew the Hastings history better than anyone, what she had wondered but never ventured to ask: whether any Hastings girls had passed away at one of the properties. Daphne did not know if she believed in such things, but if spirits might be real, maybe theirs was a kind girl of nine or ten. She imagined a girl older than Amelia, sweet and helpful, glad to have found playmates after the house being quiet for so long.
Amelia glanced at the floor as she told her parents, “She does not want us to tell you about her.”
“Why?” Simon asked his daughter gently.
“She thinks you will be too sad,” Belinda hastily added.
Later Daphne told Simon of her notion that the imaginary friend or spirit at the houses might be another girl, and told her husband how she could not imagine the heartbreak of losing a child. “The sadness would be overwhelming,” she told him with glistening eyes. “If that is the Hastings ghost, she is very intuitive.”
A few months after baby David, a boy just as the girls’ unseen friend predicted, joined the family, the six Bassets and quite a few staff departed London for a month in the country. They enjoyed long walks in their gardens, happy chases in the flowered fields, visits to a fair and to the seashore, and overall so much time outdoors, they thought of the possible spirit less than usual, but the parents still saw little indications of the invisible friend still being present as before.
One evening, a few days before the family would be returning to London, Simon and a governess tucked his three daughters into their beds in the nursery while their mother nursed baby David. After laying David in the bedside bassinet, Daphne thought she would rest her eyes for a few minutes and then say goodnight to the girls, but she nodded off and slept heavily, only waking when Simon joined her in bed after a couple hours of working in his study. He nuzzled her with kisses and she began to wake up as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Finally, some time with only you,” Simon whispered.
The duchess smiled, “That sounds wonderful, but I didn’t say good night to the girls,” and she began to wriggle away from his embrace. “Give me a few minutes to slip into their room and kiss their heads, and then I am all yours,” and she stood, yawned, stretched, put on her blue dressing gown and departed their bedroom. The girls’ nursery had previously been just down the hall from the parents’ suite, but before David was born, Daphne decided to redecorate a larger suite, around a corner and down a hallway, for the three girls to share until Amelia would be old enough for her own. When she turned the corner onto the corridor that contained the girls’ suite, she thought she saw their door close, and she quickened her step. Arriving at the door, she tried to turn the knob but found it locked. Her concern became near-panic when one of the girls screamed, “No!”
The mother stood helplessly outside the room, unable to access three of her children.
“No!” “Leave us!” “Get out!” she heard the girls shout, and in her panic, she thought of Simon’s fear of a malevolent spirit in the house. She banged on the door and, working to hide the fear in her voice, implored her daughters, “Mama’s here! Do not be afraid!” She tugged on the door handle and banged on the door to no avail. The governess rushed up, “My lady, I was just coming to check on the girls. What is the matter?”
The duchess answered quickly, “Patricia! I cannot get in and I heard the girls screaming.”
Patricia took out her key and quickly unlocked the door, but although the knob would turn, the mother and the governess could not push the door open. Something seemed to be obstructing it.
Daphne directed the governess, “Run and get the duke and then get men to help.”
The governess ran off, knocked on the duke’s door and almost out of breath, informed him what was happening.
“You get help to meet me at the nursery and then you return to David here,” he commanded her, and she gave a quick nod before he rushed out and she followed him but then headed downstairs to find footmen to help the duke.
Simon ran to the nursery door to find his wife slapping the door again and again. She had set her lantern on the floor but with his, he could see the tears on her cheeks.
After setting his lantern on the floor, he leaned into the door and attempted to force it open, but could not get it to budge much. His wife told him through tears, “I cannot open the door and they sounded so frightened. A minute ago, I heard two loud thuds, and the girls screamed, and I cannot get to them,” she begged. He could now hear little voices from inside the room calling out to them, “Mama! Papa!”
“We will reach them, and they will be safe,” he promised his wife.
After what felt like hours to the parents but had only been a couple minutes, three footmen raced toward them. With the leverage added to the duke’s, the door could be pushed open with some effort. When the door had been pushed open enough for her to slip in, the girls’ mother entered the room and gasped in shock at what she saw. The duke and his men continued to push against the door, opening it as fully as possible. Simon stepped in after Daphne and registered the same shock he had heard from her. The parents saw the three girls safe and huddled together in one bed and on the floor, now pushed away from the door, two unconscious men. The mother picked up little Caroline and held her tightly while she wrapped her arm around Belinda and Amelia. Their father rushed over and held them all, wanting so much to keep these precious little souls and their mother safe.
The footmen stood awaiting instructions from the duke and duchess, and so Simon kissed each of the girls on the head and then stood to direct everyone else, first the girls. “Go with Mama to Mama and Papa’s bedroom. I will be there soon, and we be happy and safe together,” their father told them. He instructed one of the footmen to walk with the duchess and then return to the nursery with another footman or two. Before leaving, Amelia waved into the room, to no one in particular or at least no one visible, with a smile on her face, and then she left the nursery with her mother and two sisters. After the duchess and girls had departed, accompanied by a footman, one of the men on the floor began to wake up.
Giving him a small kick in his gut, the duke scowled at the man, “Who are you? What did you want here with my children?” and the duke’s gruff voice awakened the other man. With the duke and two of his burliest footmen standing above them and their aching heads, the men confessed their scheme to kidnap two of the Basset girls and demand a hefty ransom payment. One of the footmen now recognized one of the men as having worked on the remodeling of the nursery and told the duke so. That must have been how they knew where to find the girls, and with the Bassets having visited the village, the men knew that the family would be in residence.
The would-be kidnappers avoided eye contact with the duke and remained silent when he asked them what had happened that resulted in them passed out on the floor.
“If you will not tell me, you can tell the constable,” Simon growled at them, and when the third footmen returned with a fourth footman along, Simon instructed them to take the men to the stables and then bring them to the constable in the daylight.
For the remainder of the night, the entire Basset family slept in the parents’ bedroom, David in a bassinet, and the parents and three girls snuggled on the big bed, the parents’ hands meeting with their arms over their three girls.
When they woke, they all felt so relieved and grateful to be together and for the children to be safe from the danger they faced late the evening before. Daphne and Simon put on their dressing robes to bring the girls and their brother down to breakfast themselves, walking without any staff, and later Simon would meet with the constable regarding the foiled kidnapping plot.
As they were just about to begin descending the stairs, Daphne holding David and Simon holding Caroline as the two oldest girls walked with them, Belinda stopped Amelia, whispered to her and shook her head when Amelia whispered something back. Then with determination in her little voice, Belinda told her sister, “We must tell them!”
Simon and Daphne looked down curiously at the girls who were apparently resolving a disagreement.
“Alright,” Amelia agreed and then she whispered something to her sister, and both girls looked over at the portrait of Simon’s mother and with their sweet little voices, addressed the painting, “Thank you, Grannie Sarah!”
Daphne gasped and Simon could not be certain that his heart could beat again from the shock of the girls’ words. Daphne, however, kept her wits about her and said to her family, “Let us go downstairs, and we can have a yummy breakfast and talk more about so many things,” urging her family to make their way safely down the grand staircase, rather than engaging in a discussion of such heightened emotion while on the stairs.
So they made their way downstairs with the children’s father in a bit of a daze. They all sat close around the table, David in Daphne’s arms and Caroline on Simon’s lap, and Daphne began her questions with “Amelia, darling, and Belinda, darling, Papa and I are so thankful that Grannie Sarah helped keep you safe. Can you tell us how Grannie Sarah helped you?”
Concentrating hard on the events of the previous evening, Amelia looked quite serious and then told her parents, “The bad men said they would take us, and Grannie Sarah said, ‘You will not harm these children!” and the little girl’s voice rose as she imitated the words she had heard.
Then Belinda interjected, “She said, ‘These girls belong to my Simon and his Daphne!’ and she did not let the bad men take us.”
Simon lost focus and could no longer bounce Caroline on his knee while he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, but his wife, in spite of hearing such extraordinary words, carried on with her questioning to understand what had transpired in the nursery.
“Girls, can you tell me and Papa, what happened to the bad men? Did they bump their heads in the nursery somehow?”
“Yes, Mama,” Amelia said with a nod, “When Grannie spoke to them, they looked very scared and then they tripped on our toys.”
“And they fell and bumped their heads!” Belinda added with wide eyes and gesturing a bump on her head, and then told her mother, with a sense of pride, “Our toys stopped them.”
“And Grannie Sarah stopped them,” Amelia told her mother.
Daphne thought of the years of strange occurrences. “For this next question, I want you to think as long ago as your mind can reach, my darlings,” and the girls nodded attentively with faces full of determination, and then their mother asked, “When you have talked to someone in your nursery and played with someone in your nursery and sang songs with someone, when Papa and I could not see anyone, was it always Grannie Sarah?”
Amelia smiled, knowing that she could tell her parents the full truth now and they would understand completely that although the adults had not been able to see Simon’s mother, she had been with them all this time, loving the children and being with them as much as she could. “Yes, always,” Amelia told them. Simon held Amelia’s hand and Daphne held Belinda’s and smiled at them both.
“You were so brave last night, girls, and I am so happy that your grandmother kept you safe. I think your papa and I would like to thank her.”
Simon could not manage words, only nodding with tears in his eyes. Daphne could see his reaction and distracted the girls with breakfast and light conversation, giving their father more time to work through his thoughts and feelings.
After breakfast, Simon rode to the village and discussed the legal matters with the constable; there would need to be a trial and the men would be undoubtedly bound for prison. The men would only say that they had tripped in the nursery and hit their heads, giving no indication of anything unusual and certainly no indication of anything supernatural having occurred in the household.
When Simon returned, Amelia and Belinda both ran to him as soon as he entered and he scooped them both up. The girls curled into him while they held each other’s little hands. He held them close to him and leaned his head down to touch theirs, feeling such an amazing mixture of love, wonder, and gratitude. After a couple minutes he set them down and kissed their mother who had been watching nearby with tears in her eyes at seeing three of the people she loved most in the world sharing that moment.
Putting her hand over his heart, she told him, “David and Caroline are napping in our bedchamber with nanny Patricia watching them,” and then she paused and touched his cheek as she told him, “the girls want to show us something.”
Simon inhaled, wondering what it might be and how his mind and heart could manage more revelations, but he said, “Come, girls, Mama and I can see what you have to show us.”
The four of them walked hand in hand up the grand staircase and to the nursery with its little beds and pretty décor. Daphne knelt before her daughters and asked, “What would you like to show us?”
Amelia smiled at Belinda and then spoke, “Papa, Mama, we have two grannies who love us. We have Grannie Violet we see in London, and Grannie Sarah. Grannie Sarah is here now.” The parents could scarcely believe the words they heard, and they both felt filled with awe at the girls’ revelation.
“She is in the rocking chair,” Belinda informed them, and then all four of them saw the empty-looking rocking chair shift back and forth. Daphne inhaled sharply and Simon covered his mouth in surprise, but the girls did not seem at all surprised. Belinda smiled widely and Amelia waved at the chair.
“Grannie Sarah wanted to help you, Papa, when you were little, but she did not know how,” Amelia told him with loving eyes. Daphne could see the tears well in Simon’s eyes as the girl continued, “She saw how lonely you were and how sad you were, but she could not reach you.”
“That made her sadder,” Belinda added with a frown.
The oldest Basset girl addressed her father, “But then when you and Mama married, she was so happy."
“Because you were happy,” barely three-year-old Belinda interrupted.
Amelia shot her sister a quick look for the interruption but then resumed her sharing of what Simon’s mother had told the girls. “And when I was a baby, she was so filled with joy to see you had a baby you loved,”’ and the girls’ mother let out a little whimper and some tears, recalling conversations with Simon, even on their honeymoon about his loss of his mother. “Papa and Mama in love and with a baby they loved made her happier. That’s why I could see her,” Amelia explained.
“And then I was born and I could see her too,” Belinda interrupted again.
“And Caroline can see her too. I know it,” Amelia spoke without doubt.
The four of them held hands and the girls smiled as their mother said, “Thank you for loving and protecting your grandchildren, Sarah. I am so grateful to have you in our family’s home and in our hearts.”
Amelia squeezed her father’s hand and Belinda said, “She loves you, Papa. She always loved you.”
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment to keep his tears at bay and then cleared his throat, “Thank you, Mama, for keeping your granddaughters safe and for loving them.” He paused and, looking at the rocker, uttered words he never had been able to say, “I love you, Mama, and I always have.”
The parents embraced their two girls and each other as they all watched the rocking chair rock once back and once forward.
As the years went by, all four Basset children, and eventually their little brother, came to know their grandmother Sarah and although she needed to remain a family secret, she became part of their lives. The children shared stories with their parents that she told them of herself as a girl, as a young woman, and as a duchess. When the family did not have guests over, the evening entertainment would often be the children re-enacting scenes from Sarah’s life, usually funny and always kind. The parents could never see her, but they each became attuned to her presence. Years after her death, Sarah Bassett had the family that she had longed for during her earthly life, and although they could not all see her and none could touch her, she truly became part of the Bassett family, a loving mother to her son and his wife and a joyful grandmother to her grandchildren.