Dangerous Letters

Chapter Thirty-One

Letter LV

Mar 21, 17--

Hannah,

I was visited by the first Marquess of R-----------.

It was another sleepless night. Restless in my mind, in spite of the fatigue of my body, I continued to toss about from side to side, till I heard the clock below strike one. As I listened to the mournful hollow sound, and heard it die away in the wind, I felt a sudden chillness spread itself over my body. I shuddered, familiar enough with the sensation to know that something ghostly would shortly arise; cold dews poured down my forehead, and my hair stood bristling with alarm. I heard slow and heavy steps ascending the staircase. By an involuntary movement I started up in my bed, the recollecting myself I went to draw back the curtain. I preferred not to encounter ghouls in the entirety of darkness.

The door was thrown open with violence. A spectre entered, and drew near my bed with solemn measured steps. She was dressed as a bride, in a dress that ought to be white, had been white long ago, and had lost its lustre, and was faded and yellow. The dress had been made for the rounded figure of a young woman, and that the figure upon which it now hung loose, had shrunk to skin and bone, withering like the dress. It made me recall an incident long ago at some passing Fair when I saw the ghastliest waxwork which represented I know not what impossible personage. Or that skeleton that was dug out of the vault of the old marsh church when we visited S----- that summer. The one that made mama scream so loudly.

The Lady lifted her head, the veil sliding back to once again expose a visage that, though more haggard in the partial candlelight, was unspeakably akin to my own. Those dark eyes fixed upon me; and there was no brightness left in the heavy dimness of those sunken orbs. Waxwork and skeleton seemed to stare directly without looking at all and there was something, despite the intenseness of her presence, that suggested she was still not quite here.

She plodded forward to lean over where I crouched on the bed. Her back was to the window now, the moonlight enveloping her whole frame, illuminating the frillings and trimmings on her bridal dress turned grave-clothes, that seemed like earthly paper. I have heard of bodies buried in ancient times which fall to powder in a moment of being directly seen; I was almost afraid that the admission of so much natural light would strike her to dust.

Her face bent in grave inquiry. I expected anger, on behalf of her daughter, or the malice of purgatorial spirits, but her face, meagre and sharp, was characterised by something uncertain. There was nothing wild, nothing immodest in her manner; it was quiet and self-controlled, a little melancholic, a little ambiguous, not exactly the expected manner of a ghost but also not the manner of the Lady she once was.

"Keep away," she hissed suddenly, "keep away."

The coldness intensified; an icy grip held me in unnatural immobility. The Marquess' eyes flickered and glowed a familiar clear blue that had looked upon me many times before, sometimes with the pity of an angel, sometimes with the innocent perplexity of a child.

"I want to! They won't let me!"

The sky outside exploded with thunder, pealing out such an ode as language never delivered to man - too terribly glorious was the spectacle of clouds, split and pierced by white and blinding bolts. At that brilliant illumination, my visitor vanished.

"Come back," I called, "please, come back."

It would have been too much to have expected an answer. The house remained preternaturally quiet.

Then, at the hours of dawn, an unmarked envelope slid under my door. I will transcribe the enclosed here:

Dearest,

Neither time nor distance could change my unalterable affection; you engross my thoughts too entirely to allow me to think of anything else. You employ my mind all day; intrude upon my sleep; I meet you in every dream – and, when I wake, I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness.

With what bliss I received your last letter – I came as soon I could to the tavern address you forwarded only to discover that an accident had befallen one of the guests. I surmised that you were in danger and bribed one of the footmen of your late employer and found out your whereabouts. He will deliver this message to you and aid in your escape – I will come tonight at midnight on the hour and together we will away. I have made all the arrangements, my love; there is nothing to fear.

I hope to hold in my arms before long, when I shall lavish upon you a million kisses, burning as the equatorial sun.

T.D.

If only there was a means to communicate back, I would tell him not to come. That I am not worth the risk; that I am not worth saving. I could not ask him again to suffer on my behalf; it would be as bad as offering Satan a lost soul. Surely that is the reason that I share the face of the demon that haunts this manor.

The Marquis' bliss, I believe, lies in inflicting misery. He has proven it – even as he has left me secure in such interminable solitude, he must know how I am racked with such inward torment. There is only respite when I dissolve my guilt to miserable fantasies of revenge. How dare he remain distant? As if we are not bound in mutual anguish, as if we are both not unwilling co-conspirators in the murder of a child. The child whose face I see, even now, as I close my eyes. If I might take an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth; for every wrench of agony return a wrench: reduce him to my level.

"He's only half man," I whispered to myself, "half man: not so much, and the rest fiend." Then I strode to the door in some delirious derangement. Kicking at it, again and again, I yelled – "Master, you have nobody to love you anyway more; however miserable you make me, I shall have revenge in knowing that your cruelty arises from your greater misery. You are miserable are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and spiteful like him? Nobody loves you anymore – she's gone – nobody will cry for you when you die! And I would cut my throat to make it happen one day sooner!"

If Mr. T--- does arrive I shall have to go with him, how else to remove him from the danger? I've always wanted to see the coast of T-------, or a Venetian masquerade or the court of Tsar P----- --- G----. Perhaps you shall receive my post after all.

C.B.

Letter LVI

Mar 21, 17--

Dear Mother and Father,

I am sorry that I have not written for some time, I have been very busy. I am no longer with the Marquis – I will explain everything in due course when the time is right. You may not hear from me for again for a while but please know that I am keeping well and happy.

My only regret is that I neglect my duty to love and cherish you both; for you have loved and cherished me when I could do nothing for myself. I love you more than you can know.

Your most dutiful daughter,

C-------