Moonshine

by Robin Trent

  John had a whole shed full of garden tools, some he didn't use much anymore. Titwell looked over the array of garden tools. There, of course, was a spade, and hand trowel, topiary shears with big round handles, a daisy lifter, a dibber, hand cultivator, hand fork, hand hoe, hand rake, a large rake, multi-cut shears, and a pruning saw. If Titwell cleaned, sharpened, and oiled all the tools, he would be outside for most the night. That suited him just fine. He found the oil, grinding stone, and some rags and began his work. It felt good to be useful, to have something to bend his mind and his hands to instead of constantly worrying about recent events.

  After several hours Titwell raised his head from his task and decided to step outside the shed and take a break. A crescent moon hung in the sky. The lesser light from the moon allowed more stars to be visible, and Titwell stared up at the millions of lights up above. He took his favorite pipe out of his jacket and filled it with tobacco, lit it, and steadily puffed away until the coals in his pipe glowed red. He didn't often smoke, but on a night like tonight, when the world was asleep and all was quiet, it was nice to have a treat and be alone with his own thoughts.

  An owl hooted softly in the distance, tree frogs sang, crickets hummed. Maybe it wasn't completely silent, and all the natural world wasn't asleep, but it was still peaceful.

  24

  Nikolai was happy to be home. He had missed his wife and children. While his time in Alexandria had been fulfilling, he had found his thoughts frequently aiming towards home; an experience he did not have as a single man. Marriage and fatherhood had changed him and made him more settled. Nikki smiled to himself. He didn't mind the change, not at all.

  The caretaker John Barlow had picked him up at the railway station, and now he sat in the carriage, jostling down the rutted road. It had rained that day. The air smelled crisp and clean, and everything was a deeper color, the black of the tree bark blacker, the green of the moss greener. It would have been entirely serene if it wasn't for the insistent clacking of the carriage's wheels.

  Helen's letter had disturbed Nikolai, even though she stated that the children were fine and Elizabeth was suffering from fatigue. It was more of what she didn't say that caused him to worry. His wife was full of life and a chatterbox when around him, but he hadn't received a letter from her for several weeks. That alone was enough to cause concern. Nikolai knew his wife, and he knew she was not entirely comfortable around her mother, although he wasn't sure why. He thought Helen's presence would be good for Elizabeth. Now he wasn't so sure.

  The trip took two hours from the train station, and when he arrived, Nikolai's homecoming did not consist of exuberant hugs and kisses from his wife, but a stern and somewhat haggard mother-in-law with a stand-offish air. Well, at least Helen seemed normal. Nikolai alighted from the carriage and kissed Helen on the cheek, "Mother, it's good to see you."

  Helen gave her son-in-law a reproving look as she knew his greeting to be false. However, circumstances being what they were, she chose to keep her sharp tongue in her head for once. "I trust your journey was without incident?"

  "Yes, everything is fine. Where's my wife?" Nikolai was not feeling the least bit inclined for pleasantries.

  Helen's eyes darted up to the top window at the front of the house. "She's in her room, Nikki, resting."

  Nikolai didn't wait for any further explanation and moved with speed into the house and up the stairs, to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

  Afternoon sunlight streamed in the windows and warmed the room. Elizabeth lay in bed, covered with a comforter. Nikolai doffed his jacket and pulled up a chair next to the bed, taking Elizabeth's hand into his. She stirred and opened her eyes. "Nikki? Are you really home? You're not due back for another month."

  "Yes, my love, your mother sent for me. I came back as soon as I could." He lifted her cold hand up to his warm lips as he planted a gentle kiss just below her knuckles. "I missed you."

  It was a simple proffering, and yet Elizabeth's eyes welled up with tears, belying her emotional state. "Oh Nikki, I have something terrible to tell you."

  "Are you ill? You're in bed. Your mother says you are not well." Nikolai took in his wife's appearance. Usually, she would be bright and smiling. Now she appeared to be a former shell of herself, thin and gaunt, and her eyes lacked their usual warmth. "Have you been eating?"

  "She thinks I need to be monitored. I think she needs to go home herself. I am afraid of her. I wasn't, but now I am."

  Nikolai stood up with a frown on his face. "I had hoped your visit with your mother would be good for you. If it is distressing you so, I can send her away and will do so immediately."

  Elizabeth grabbed Nikolai's hand. "You need to know something. My mother has thoughts about me. Thoughts which were never true."

  "How so, my love?"

  "She believes I am insane. She had me committed once." Elizabeth frowned and broke contact with Nikki's eyes, worried about how he would react to this news.

  "What? How could she believe that?" Nikolai looked baffled.

  "It was my childhood. I know she is going to explain it to you. Nikki, please do not think so ill of me." Tears welled up in Elizabeth's eyes, and she grabbed for his hand again.

  The pleading look in his wife's face broke his heart. "There is nothing she could say that would turn me against my own wife. All you need is some rest. I am going to talk to your mother right now." Nikolai bent to kiss Elizabeth on the forehead. "Get some sleep. It will be all right." He felt the pity his smile conveyed. His wife really was in quite a state.

  Helen sat in the drawing-room staring at the glowing embers of the fireplace. The warmth of the room made it stuffy, but Helen paid this no mind. Her thoughts were bent on her daughter's seemingly precarious position. This issue had been dealt with in Elizabeth's childhood, and the alienist had assured Helen that it was eradicated. But here she was, faced with the same situation some twelve years later.

  Elizabeth had always been rebellious. Helen blamed Arthur. He should never have indulged his daughter and her headstrong ways. But this irrational insistence that she saw things that no else could see, that was more than just being obstinate. Helen didn't want to tell Nikolai; in fact, it had all been kept from him. This was supposed to be in the past, no need to go dragging such unpleasantness up and causing Elizabeth undue distress. But now Elizabeth had children and the responsibilities far outweighed any discomfiture on her daughter's part.

  The door to the parlor opened, and Helen could feel Nikolai's hesitation. "No need to stand in the doorway, Nikolai, come in." The door closed, and soft footfalls approached her chair. "Please sit down." Nikki looked troubled, as well he should. Helen had never been overly fond of her son-in-law, but at this moment, she felt pity. This was not what any new husband signs on for or expects from his lovely bride.

  Helen lowered her gaze to her hands. When did she get so old? She stared at the fine white lines and paper-thin skin. She had never thought of herself as old, but now she felt it in her bones. Her voice sounded harsh to her ears as she broke the silence. "Nikolai, we must talk. I have the unfortunate burden of explaining some things to you about my daughter's past, and as much as I loathe discussing it, it is unfair to you not to."

  Nikolai's head sunk further into his chest. The flames from the fire were reflected in his eyes as he remained silent, and his expression grew stony. Helen pressed forward. "When my daughter was around twelve years old, we had her committed to an asylum for a brief period. What I am about to tell you is painful to recollect, but I feel that I must recount these events as you have a decision to make concerning my daughter, and I fear this time she may not return to us."

  "So, you're mother tells me you can see things that others cannot." Nikolai sat down by his wife and held her hand.

  "Yes. I have been that way my whole life."

  "And what is it that you can see?" Nikolai waited patiently. He was very upset by what Helen had told him. He wasn't upset because Helen thought Elizabeth was touche
d as she put it, he was upset because his wife had been treated so poorly by her own flesh and blood.

  "I can see faerie," Elizabeth said.

  "Really?" Nikolai had a glint of mischief in his eyes. He wanted to tease, but thought better of it.

  Nikolai pulled from his pocket a green velvet pouch and presented it to his wife. "I have something to show you."

  Elizabeth opened the bag to reveal the beautiful amulet made of silver and citrine. "Nikki," Elizabeth said. "We can't afford this."

  "It was a gift from a friend. A family heirloom and he bade I give it to you. I debated, given its history, and now I realize it might just be the perfect gift."

  "Oh?" Elizabeth gave him a dubious look. "How so?"

  "Because this necklace is supposed to be of faery make." Nikki grinned.

  "That's not funny, Nikolai. It's not nice to make sport of me."

  "I am not making fun of you, my love I am serious." Nikolai stood up. He bade Elizabeth sit up and he fluffed the pillows up behind her. Then he sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Let me tell you a story."

  "There is a famous cup, known as the Luck of Edenhall. It is believed by some to date back to thirteenth century Syria. But others think that the cup is enchanted and that it comes from a different world entirely. Whatever its origin, it is truly a marvel, not only for the fact that it is an incredible example of ancient glassmaking but because it has survived the test of time unscathed. Many think the Luck of Edenhall fared so well due to more mystical reasons.” Nikki’s eyes twinkled.

  "Although its early history is untraceable, many believe that it was brought back from the Holy Land by a crusader. The cup received its name roughly 230 years ago, when the Musgrave family of Edenhall, right here in Cumberland, gained possession of it. Its actual origins were long forgotten until word began to spread that the Luck of Edenhall was, in reality, once a faery cup."

  "No." Elizabeth sat in rapt attention as her husband wove his tale.

  "Oh, yes, indeed. Many talented writers such as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow have sung the praises of the Luck of Edenhall, but the first known mention of the artifact was written by Sir William Musgrave himself in 1791. Tradition has it that a party of faeries were drinking and making merry around St. Cuthbert's Well near the Hall. But they were interrupted by some curious people. Frightened, they made a hasty retreat, and left the cup in question: one of the last screaming out, 'If this cup should break or fall, farewell the Luck of Edenhall!'

  "It appears that his descendant, Sir George Musgrave, took heed of the faery's warning. His young god-daughter wrote of her time at Edenhall in a journal entry in 1844, detailing Musgrave's extreme efforts to keep the cup safe. According to her, Musgrave made his children stay out of the room while the cup was being shown and kept it safely behind an iron door and stone wall and then placed it into a special tin box, to prevent fire from ever harming it.

  "It is said the Luck of Edenhall has a rare beauty that stands as a testament of just how breathtaking objects of the faery may be. What's curious is that this faery cup has remained entirely intact and untarnished by the effects of time. Even though it has traveled great distances, it has never cracked or chipped. The fact that each of the owners who possessed the goblet experienced luck and prosperity only further lends to the mystery and makes the Luck of Edenhall a genuinely remarkable piece of faery history.

  "So you see, my dear, you are not the only one to believe in faery. The fellow who gave me this necklace also believed in faery and told me that this very necklace is also of faery make."

  Nikolai leaned over and placed the jewelry around his wife's neck, fastening the necklace from behind. "I don't care that you believe in faeries, my dear. As an archaeologist, I see this as part of the lore that comes under the purview of my study. You never had any reason to fear me or keep this secret from me." Nikolai kissed Elizabeth's forehead. "I will say this, though. I think your mother is a monster for sending you away as a child to a sanatorium. That should never have happened to you."

  Elizabeth smiled her relief. "I am so glad to hear you say that Nikki, because I have so much to tell you."

  Elizabeth twisted the handkerchief in her hands. She wanted Nikolai to understand; he so needed to know that she wasn't crazy. She had been sitting here for hours explaining everything to him. Her room had grown stuffy and hot, with the sun streaming in through the windows. Unquestionably he must believe her. He had to trust her. She lifted a glass of water to her lips and took a deep drink. All this talking had made her thirsty. She looked at her husband over the rim of the glass.

  Nikolai was staring at his wife as if she were a stranger. It was one thing to believe in faeries or ghosts, many people did. It was another to create such a fantastical story and expect him to believe it. He had been in the nursery just a short time ago and saw both his daughters, but Elizabeth was trying to convince him that one of them was not even human. Blame for himself came quickly. He should never have left her alone to run off to Egypt. His selfishness had brought this on; he could have stayed with her a while longer. It had obviously all been too much for her.

  "My dear, I am so sorry that I left you. But I am here now, and we will find a way to fix this. Together." He tried to keep the condescension out of his voice. He was trying to sound comforting and soothing.

  "You don't believe me. I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice. You think I'm mad." Elizabeth turned her head to stare out the window. She couldn't look at her husband right now. Her darling Nikolai was not going to be there for her. At least not in the way she needed.

  "You think I am making this up, or that I have an overactive imagination." She clutched the amulet in her hands so tight her knuckles were turning white. "The doctor doesn't believe me either. Nor does my mother. The people in the village look at me like I'm crazy when I go out. I know everyone is talking about me. I am sorry that I am such an embarrassment to you."

  "No. Elizabeth, please do not think that way. I could never be embarrassed by you. I just don't want you to hurt yourself or the children." There. He said it. He finally said what had been weighing on his mind.

  "You think I would purposefully hurt one of my children?" Elizabeth was whispering now, tears streaming down her face. She barely had the strength to speak; her heart was so completely and utterly broken. Nikolai's words stung. She now knew that she was and would continue to be completely alone.

  "My dear, your mother told me you tried to kill Euphemia. I thought she was exaggerating. Now I'm not so sure." Nikolai placed his hands on his wife's, trying to ease the pain of what he just said.

  Elizabeth jerked her hand away. "I didn't try to kill my daughter. That thing in the crib is not Euphemia."

  Nikolai was now at a loss for words. He couldn't deny what he felt. He couldn't comfort his wife either. He looked up into her tired, wild face. Elizabeth's hair, her pride and joy, was coming out of its bun. Her face was taut, and her eyes were puffy and red. To Nikolai, she looked so utterly fragile. How had his beautiful, fair wife come into such a state?

  Elizabeth felt claustrophobic in her room; she needed some fresh air. Drawing on her robe and slippers, she went downstairs to sneak out of the house. Passing by the drawing-room, she noticed the shut door. She tiptoed over and leaned in, pressing her ear against the wood. Indistinct voices argued, and Elizabeth could make out her husband's deep baritone answering her own mother's angry declarations. She could not believe her husband was siding with her mother. Nikolai was supposed to be there for her, to believe her and support her.

  Elizabeth pushed away from the door and silently continued down the hallway, through the kitchen, and out the back door. She edged her feet out of her slippers, leaving them on the porch, and stepped onto the dew-laden grass. The cool wetness grounded her and made her feel present. She felt more awake, less tired.

  Everyone thought she was crazy. Elizabeth knew how things looked, but if you knew what was going on, her actions made sense. She could fix
this whole situation easily. Just like before, all she had to do was say she was lying, making it all up to prevent her mother from selling the house. But that left Euphemia out there, alone.

  As a mother, Elizabeth could not fathom saving her own hide and forsaking her daughter. Moonlight played in the shadows of the forest as she stared deep in thought. The problem was she knew she was right. She knew what was happening even if no one else could see it. She couldn't possibly go on pretending that thing in the crib upstairs was her daughter. When Elizabeth was in the asylum as a young girl, no one came to save her. She felt completely abandoned by her mother and father, and that feeling had never really left her. Not even as an adult.

  What was Euphemia feeling right now? How was Elizabeth supposed to give her husband and mother what they wanted when it meant abandoning her child? From her own experience, Elizabeth knew it would do no good to tell anyone the truth. No one would believe her. She was the only one who could save her child because no one else was going to.

  A soft clicking sound to her right sent waves of tingles up and down her spine. Elizabeth slowly turned to her right to see John Barlow emerging from the side of the house with his gun cocked once again. Well, maybe she wasn't completely alone in this, after all. Her servants were certainly looking out for her. What on earth was he pointing his gun at now? "John?"