“Maybe in the future,” Lily said.
“No,” Emmaline said firmly. “Jack was my only love, and I’d rather be single and alone for the rest of my life than with a man who was anything less than him.”
Just then, a loud thumping sound startled both Emmaline and Lily. Emmaline’s heart raced in her chest and she clutched a hand to her breast, nervously gazing up at the ceiling. The thumping intensified – it sounded like a very heavy person jumping on the floor, over and over.
“Come on,” Emmaline said. She stood up and quickly ran out of the room and up the massive stone staircase. She could hear the thumping coming from all sides around her now – like Clanbourne House was starting to come down all around her. Emmaline’s breath was quick and shallow as she darted up the steps and into her bedroom, where the thumping had been coming from.
Emmaline gazed around fearfully, half-expecting a flood of rats to emerge from the closet. But there was nothing there. The air was frigid cold, and she began to shiver after being inside for only a few seconds.
“Emmaline!” Lily called as she dashed into the room. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”
Emmaline was frightened, but she took a deep breath and turned to her friend. “Nothing happened,” she said in a shaky voice. “Everything’s fine.”
Chapter Four
Johnathan Playfair
Lily stayed with Emmaline for a week. There was no more thumping, and no more rats. But now, whenever Emmaline looked at the portrait of Rebecca Dunraven, she felt a tangible sorrow growing in her chest. It almost seemed like Rebecca’s portrait channeled her energy, filling the bedroom with a quiet, unspoken sadness that Emmaline had a difficult time shaking off.
When Lily left, Emmaline was surprised to discover how lonely she felt once again. It took a day or two alone in Clanbourne House before she felt at home again. Often, she thought of Jack. She thought of his boyish smile and his warm brown eyes. She thought of how safe it had felt to be in his arms. Emmaline suffered from frequent nightmares, but when she slept next to Jack, she dreamed as peacefully as an infant.
One day, Emmaline was carrying a load of laundry down into the basement when something unusual caught her eye. Frowning, she set the basket down on the stone floor and walked over to the wall. A series of markings – that looked almost like Js – had appeared at the base of the wall, inches from the floor.
Emmaline frowned. She rubbed her hand over the markings, but they didn’t smudge or fade. When she glanced down at her fingers, she saw they were perfectly clean.
“What’s happened here,” Emmaline said, her voice echoing in the hall. She squatted down and peered closely at the Js. They were drawn in a childish hand, but something about them sent a shiver racing down Emmaline’s spine.
“The last thing I need is bugs, or rats that would destroy the rest of the wallpaper,” Emmaline murmured to herself. “What could have possibly caused this?”
Laundry forgotten, Emmaline darted to the kitchen to retrieve a bowl of soapy water and a sponge. She sat down on the floor, crossed her legs, and got to work immediately scrubbing at the scribbles. But after five minutes of pushing so hard her shoulders ached, Emmaline frowned when she looked and saw that the scribbles were still there. She slumped, dunking the sponge in the soapy water and resuming her scrubbing.
“Stupid scribbles,” she muttered under breath. “I wonder what happened.” She worked harder and harder, the tip of her tongue poking out of her lips with determination as she scrubbed.
Working around the house at Clanbourne House had given Emmaline more physical strength and stamina than she’d ever had. Still, fifteen minutes of hard scrubbing left her exhausted. Finally, Emmaline sighed and shook her head.
Something probably stained this ages ago, and it’s just more noticeable now because the wallpaper is fading, Emmaline decided. I should repaper this hall anyway, she thought. It could use some color.
Emmaline carried the sponge and bowl of water into the kitchen, dumping both in the sink. She wiped her forehead, then sat down for a couple of minutes before going to fetch her laundry.
But when Emmaline got back to the hall, her laundry was gone. She frowned.
“What the heck,” Emmaline said softly. “Where did I set that done?” She tapped her chin, trying to think. “Did I carry it downstairs and then forget about it? Or is it still in the bedroom?”
Frustrated, Emmaline jogged down to the basement. Her laundry wasn’t there. She rolled her eyes, then ran upstairs and searched her bedroom. The laundry wasn’t there, either. Emmaline felt like she was starting to lose her mind as she searched around the grand manor for her plastic hamper and dirty clothes. This is ridiculous, Emmaline thought. I’m only twenty-nine, and I’m already turning into a forgetful old woman.
Eventually Emmaline gave up. “You win,” she said to the hall, staring down at the scribbles. They looked just as fresh as they had before she’d started scrubbing, if not brand new.
With a sigh, Emmaline went upstairs and flopped down in her big bed. She yawned unexpectedly, then closed her eyes and drifted into a deep, heavy sleep.
~~~~~
“I’m so very pleased to meet you, Mr. Playfair,” Rebecca said. “You come very highly reviewed.” She smiled kindly. “I hope Sister Mary Elizabeth offered you something to eat.”
Johnathan smiled. He was a handsome young man, in a worn waistcoat and breeches. The ascot around his neck was old and yellowed, but his face sparkled with youth and life.
“I’m honored to be in your presence, ma’am,” Johnathan said. “And please, do call me Johnathan.”
Rebecca blushed. “And I am far too young to be called ma’am,” she said softly. “Please call me Rebecca.”
Johnathan studied the room. It was airy, with tall ceiling and lots of natural sunlight. He’d never been in a convent before – something about being alone in a convent room with a beautiful young woman felt both dangerous and exciting. And Rebecca truly was beautiful.
With cornflower-blue eyes and blonde hair, she was easily one of the most stunning women he’d ever seen. It wasn’t just her beauty, either – there was something else about her, something really special that made Johnathan eager to know more about this young woman.
“Please,” Johnathan said. He gestured towards the window. “Stand over there, if you don’t mind.”
Rebecca walked self-consciously to the window. She still wasn’t used to wearing fine clothing, and she held her arms stiffly over the skirt of her new dress as not to wrinkle it.
“Relax,” Johnathan said. “We want you to look very happy for Lord Dunraven.”
Rebecca swallowed. “Yes,” she said hesitantly. “My fiancé.”
Johnathan moved towards Rebecca. He took her hands and pressed a flower into them, posing her gently and naturally in the flattering daylight.
“Just try to stay calm,” Johnathan advised. “We can take breaks whenever you are weary of standing.”
Rebecca nodded and swallowed. “Yes. Thank you.”
Johnathan began to sketch. It was difficult to tear his eyes away from Rebecca’s angelic face. When he moved to draw her bosom, he found himself blushing.
“Jonathan?”
In Rebecca’s voice, Johnathan thought his name sounded like a prayer.
“Yes?”
“Do you enjoy having a career and being so independent?” Rebecca smiled. “Sister Mary Elizabeth said you often travel the world.”
Johnathan chuckled. “Yes,” he said. He almost added: But I’d be even happier here with you.
“What is it?” Rebecca frowned. “You seem as though you were about to speak again.”
Johnathan shook his head. “No,” he said. “I was just wondering about your life.”
Rebecca blushed self-consciously. “My parents were killed at sea when I was a small girl,” she said. “I was given to the care of my Aunt Prudence, but she took ill and was forced to send me here. I’ve been with the Daughters of
Divine Sanctity for just over thirteen years.” She laughed. “Not very exciting, I must admit.”
“On the contrary,” Johnathan said smoothly. “I’m sorry to hear of your past tragedies.” He raised an eyebrow. “I trust the future will be…an improvement?”
Rebecca’s smile faded. “Yes,” she said. It was clear that her voice was filled with fake optimism. “Yes, I’m sure it will be an improvement.”
“I’m sorry, Rebecca,” Johnathan said. He walked over to her and touched her arm. “I did not mean to upset you.”
Rebecca sniffled. “No,” she said. She smiled sadly. “Do not worry. I will be fine.” Johnathan watched as she shivered. “I am quite sure Lord Dunraven will prove an excellent husband.”
Johnathan’s heart dropped. She doesn’t love him, he realized. She’s afraid of him!
~~~~~
Emmaline gave a start and sat up in bed, her chest heaving. She was filled with inexplicable sadness – the people in her dream had seemed so real, she couldn’t believe it. It’s like I was right there in the room, she thought. Despite her history of nightmares, Emmaline wasn’t used to such vivid, realistic dreams.
The bedroom was freezing. Emmaline gasped as she saw each of the windows had been opened. The skies of Cornwall were dark and inky, and rain was lashing against the open panes of the windows. Shivering, Emmaline crawled out of bed and closed the windows, one by one. The wooden floor was soaked with rain, and Emmaline felt chilled to the bone.
As she turned around, she gasped.
The plastic hamper, full of dirty laundry, was sitting in the middle of her bed.
Chapter Five
The Beauty of Inspiration
Seemingly overnight, Clanbourne House had changed from a sleepy abandoned manor to a hotbed of activity. Emmaline could barely round a corner without seeing something new that made her jump. The very night after her vivid dream about Johnathan and Rebecca, Emmaline was walking down the main hall when she discovered the scribbles on the wall had grown. The Js had blossomed into all letters, and she gasped when she saw her name in large, flowery letters.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,” Emmaline said desperately. “But you’d better stop! This is my house now, and I won’t leave!” The sight of her name on the wall chilled her, and suddenly Emmaline wished with all her heart that Jack was with her. With Jack, she’d felt no fear. Jack had encouraged Emmaline to be the best version of herself possible, and she now felt his absence more keenly than ever before.
The house was silent in response. Emmaline’s nostrils flared. She felt more than a little silly conversing with a house in the way that she did, but the attraction she’d felt towards Clanbourne House was blossoming into something deeper, almost like a relationship.
Emmaline went downstairs and made herself a small dinner of bread and cheese. Living in Cornwall wasn’t at all like living in New York. Before she’d moved, Emmaline had been used to fresh fruit and vegetables all year long. But the small grocer in the village only carried what was fresh and what was local. Emmaline had to admit that she didn’t entirely mind – it was almost like living in another century, in a world that was so different from the one she’d inhabited previously.
As she gnawed at the bread, Emmaline glanced at the wall. She was startled to see something red dripping down from the ceiling. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she shivered to see a small pool of blood on the floor.
Her appetite completely vanished. Emmaline took a deep breath and grabbed a rag from the sink. It’s probably just red paint, she thought. Yeah, I’m sure it’s just paint. As Emmaline approached the red puddle, she felt something eerie propelling her forward, almost as if her movements weren’t actually her own.
Suddenly, a loud whooshing sound made Emmaline jump and cry out in surprise. She gasped as she heard something rushing down the hall, towards her. In fright, she screamed and ran out of the kitchen and down the hall. The sound grew louder and louder and Emmaline’s heart began to slam against the walls of her chest.
Her breathing grew shallow and she screamed again as something ghostly took her by the hand and pulled her forward, forward, forward – until Emmaline was running faster than she’d ever moved before. She was breathless as she took the stairs two at a time, all the way up to the attic.
The door flew open and a ghostly wail filled Emmaline’s ears. She closed her eyes and screamed, covering her ears with both hands. The sound grew louder and louder, until she felt as though she was hearing it projected from inside of her chest.
“Help!” Emmaline screamed. “Somebody, help me!” In her fear, she’d forgotten that she was all alone.
The door slammed shut behind Emmaline. She gasped as the fireplace blazed with a sudden burst of flames.
Emmaline trembled. The flickering light of the fire illuminated a black canvas on an easel, surrounded by paints. Emmaline gasped. She felt herself being propelled forward by a ghostly force, and she looked down to see her feet sliding across the floor. Emmaline cried out in fear. As she reached the easel, she shrieked with alarm as her right hand grabbed a brush from the easel and began making slow, deliberate strokes on the paper.
Emmaline felt herself warming to the gesso-coated canvas, warming to the oil paints. She closed her eyes and painted in a frenzy, moving so quickly that she worked up a sweat. She could hardly breathe as her arm streaked across the canvas, again and again. The energy around her, inside of her, was stronger than almost anything she’d ever experienced, and Emmaline surrendered to the feeling of her body being used as a vessel.
A voice kept talking in her head as she painted. Finally, Emmaline let herself fall into a dazed trance, her hand moving frantically over the paints and the canvas.
~~~~~
“The painting is almost finished,” Rebecca said sadly.
Johnathan gave her a smile. “I thought you’d be pleased,” he said. “Aren’t you ready to look?”
Rebecca swallowed. “I am not sure,” she said. She bit her lip, then quickly spoke. “Sister Mary Elizabeth tells me that I must be kind and charitable, especially to Lord Dunraven.”
Johnathan frowned. “You’re a very kind young woman,” he said slowly.
Rebecca uttered a sob. She buried her face in her hands and cried. She felt as though her heart was breaking in two. Johnathan crossed the room in quick strides and pulled her close. Rebecca knew it was wrong, but how could something like love be wrong? How could this be a sin, when all she felt for Johnathan was the purest love?
“Do not cry, Rebecca,” Johnathan said in a husky voice.
Rebecca looked up, her cheeks glazed with tears. “Oh, Johnathan,” she cried. “I fear that I will never be as happy as I have been during the brief time I have spent with you!”
Johnathan shuddered. To know that Rebecca returned his feelings should have made him the happiest man on earth, but he felt nothing but dread.
“You are betrothed to Lord Dunraven,” Johnathan said weakly. “I…I could not provide the same kind of life for you, Rebecca.”
“I do not care!” Rebecca said hotly. “I love you. I do not want a rich life, Johnathan! All I want is to be your wife, lawfully and legally recognized by everyone!” She began to weep harder than ever.
“Rebecca,” Johnathan said. “Marry me. Elope with me. Run away with me – we’ll go tonight.”
“Lord Dunraven is coming to collect me this afternoon,” Rebecca moaned. She buried her face in her hands. “There isn’t any time, Johnathan!”
“I will go with you,” Johnathan said. He glanced at the nearly finished portrait of Rebecca on his easel. “He can have the portrait. But I want you, Rebecca. I want you to be my wife.”
Rebecca trembled with fear. Even in the arms of the man she loved, she still felt afraid.
“I am so frightened,” Rebecca said softly.
“Do not be afraid, my love,” Johnathan said. “I promise – as long as you and I are together, we will be safe.”
<
br /> ~~~~~
Emmaline gasped as she opened her eyes. Her body was exhausted and her mouth was desperately in want of water, but the painting in front of her was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen. It depicted a young man with a kind face, dressed in rather shabby clothes. His lips were curved in a sad smile, but his brown eyes were filled with sadness.
“It’s you,” she said softly. “It’s Johnathan Playfair, the painter who captured Rebecca’s portrait…and her heart.”
The painting stared back at her. Something about the look in Johnathan’s eyes brought Jack to Emmaline’s mind, and her eyes filled with tears. She collapsed in front of the easel, weeping until her sinuses were flooded with liquid and her heart was aching as if she’d been stabbed.
“Oh, Jack,” Emmaline cried to herself. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. “How I wish you hadn’t died! I need you here with me,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”
Sniffling sadly, Emmaline lay down on the floor, the wooden floor cold beneath her body. She closed her eyes and listened to the gusts of wind outside, the crash of the waves against the cliffs of Cornwall. Jack, she thought. I’d do anything to see you again, just anything!
When Emmaline opened her eyes, she saw a faded red bloodstain on the floor, directly underneath of the easel. Chills ran down her spine as she realized she was lying exactly two floors above the kitchen, where she’d seen the small pool of blood before the frenzy had taken her body and forced her to paint.
Emmaline stood up, brushing her tearstained cheeks with both hands. She looked at the painting and felt her heart break in two.
“You didn’t get a happy ending, either,” she said softly to Johnathan. “But I think I know how I can help your beloved.”
Chapter Six
All is Silent
Emmaline knew where the portrait of Johnathan Playfair had to go – right next to the portrait of Lady Rebecca Dunraven. As she carefully carried the canvas down the attic stairs, her heart was filled with sadness.
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