Madeline

Part Three

     Breakfast had been a rather unpleasant affair. Few words had been spoken, and those that had been, were general and short. Arthur had barely eaten and had excused himself a mere five minutes after I had joined him. He claimed that he suffered from a headache which no doubt was true, and said that he was going to rest. He brushed past my chair with a look of barely concealed distaste and disappeared from the room.

     Alice stared after him with a look that was of both pity and sorrow. "He doesn't always mean what he says, Matthew," she spoke in a soft tone as she tentatively reached for his untouched plate, “He does care for you a great deal even if it does not seem that way. Her death has had an effect on him and this house. Even if it is not place my place to say so, I worry for him and his health. He stays indoors all day, he never leaves. He just sits and drinks and stares at the fire. 'Tis not a good thing."

    As she removed the plate from the table, I gently grabbed her wrist. "I thank you for your concern and I am glad you are here to watch him. I am sure he is grateful for that as well. But tell me Alice, what did you think of Madeline?"

    I saw that my question unnerved her. Her eyes fell to the tablecloth as she answered, “She was a very    beautiful woman, Matthew."

 "Other than that?" I questioned further and studied her response.

  I felt her hand stiffen against mine and for a second she bit her lower lip as she struggled for a response. But at last she raised her jade eyes and stared at me fully as she answered.

"God forgive me for saying such a thing, but she was not a kind woman. I did not care much for her. Not at all."

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  That same morning I went for a small venture around the estate with Heathcliff at my side. The air was crisp and fresh, and a light frost covered the ground. The sky was clouded a dusty hue that promised snow later on in the day, and the crows on the bare Alder branches above, stared down with beady eyes.

    The sense of being continually watched had never left me. Whether it be the crows or the shadows, I could feel eyes upon me at all times. We traveled further into the forest that surrounded the estate for nearly a mile. Dead leaves covered the frozen earth and the skeletons of wraithlike Hawthorn trees twisted into the sky. The landscape was both sinister and fascinating.

  The sound of leaves being crushed underfoot startled me as Heathcliff bared his teeth, a guttural noise leaving his throat.

  "Hello? Is there anyone there?" I found myself calling out, puzzled as my eyes searched for the source of the noise.

   There was no response. The only sound came from the crows.

     As I began to walk forward, a strong blast of cold wind forced me backwards and I stumbled over an unseen branch, causing myself to tumble towards the frozen ground. As I fell, a blur of white tore across my vision, before vanishing. When I landed on the ground, all air left me and for a moment I struggled for breath. I looked around the trees, searching for a glimpse of white, but there was no trace of it. Heathcliff's growls ceased when I began to move. Shaken, I arose to my feet.

   I decided that the dream must have affected me more than I had thought. Imagination does after all have a powerful influence on the mind of man.

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   We made our way back to the house a quarter of an hour later, traveling along the river whose currents surged even though it was nearly winter. The river itself ran right alongside of the house and as a child, I had played there often. But no longer was it crystalline and pure, but murky and dark, as if the very water itself had been tainted by the misfortunes of our family.

  As we neared the house, Heathcliff paused to take a drink from a clearer part of the water, his tongue lapping eagerly. Running my hand through his fur, I looked around at the grounds and soon spotted the small cemetery that had been on the property for generations. Both father and mother were buried there, as well as many generations of our family, and finally Madeline. Arthur had told me her father had insisted, claiming that she never wanted to leave Ashwood Manor or Arthur for that matter. Her polished black headstone lay at the base of a great willow tree, it's dipping tendrils nearly touching the grave itself. Her name was engraved inordinately on the stone as well as the elegy, "Loving daughter, Loving Sister, Loving Bride."

    Remembering Alice's words, I chose to disregard the latter phrase. Madeline had been an excellent actress. She always wore the facade of the well born, well bred, woman. Few could see her for what she truly was. But if one really took a careful glance, they could see the truth. That though her words were honey, they dripped with venom. That though her eyes were bright, they mocked. That though she appeared modest, her air was seductive. Beneath the surface, there is always something darker.

When Heathcliff finished taking his drink, we resumed our way. Once we passed through the iron gate that guarded the front of the estate, I began to approach the steps to walk inside. But Heathcliff would not follow. Cobalt eyes stared up towards one of the windows and his ears drew back as he began to whimper. This was an aberration, for I had never seen him act in such a way. As I began to approach him, he began to draw back, eyes still fixed upwards. When I reached out a hand to reassure him, he turned and dashed back out the gate and into be forest.

  "Heathcliff!" I called out in vain but he disappeared into the trees.

   I decided that something had frightened him and he would return eventually. He could live in the forest for days before he would become lonely and come back.

   My gaze soon traveled upwards until it stopped upon the window that had caused him such distress. I saw a pale face pressed up against the glass. Looking closer, I saw that it was not Arthur for it was the figure of a woman. Dark eyes stared down at me, never wavering. Somewhere in the distance a dog howled, causing me to look away. When I glanced back again, the figure had become nothing but a fleeting shadow. Perhaps it had been Alice? Yet once more I found myself growing troubled.

  So there is Part Three and it will be my last update for today!! (: For anyone who is interested a lot of the inspiration for this story came about after watching The Woman in Black! I also draw a lot of inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe, specfically his story The Fall of the House of Usher, a fantastic story I reccommend for anyone! I will most likely update tommorow again. As usual thank you for votes and comments! -The_Queenbee