Darker Still

by Leanna Renee Hieber

  I’d never been in so fine a dress, and when I glimpsed Jonathon awaiting us in the foyer below, looking perhaps more dashing than I’d ever seen him, we smiled broadly at each other. Though tired, he looked as if fresh clothes and fine toiletries had renewed his spirit and made him feel human again after being trapped in his portrait clothes, marred, torn, and unkempt. Before me now was the portrait of the lord whom I wanted forever in my mind. We both stared at one another, drinking in our freshly composed selves, and I do believe he liked what he saw of me as much as I did of him.

  In our stares was such relief. It had been as if any time that we weren’t present with the other, we were convinced we knew each other only in the dreams we shared. But here he was, fully in the flesh and still pulling on my heart. What did Mrs. Northe see for us? Would we marry? That’s what people our age did; they found love and married. My heart raced at the thought. No, what was I thinking: he’d have to flee; he was a wanted man. I most certainly couldn’t go on flights of fancy at this time. Most likely, I had to prepare a good-bye. But I loved him…

  My heart careened back and forth as we were ushered gently into the sitting room. Mrs. Northe bade us sit side by side so that he could take my trembling hand in his steady one, as I’d hoped.

  As we told our tale, Mrs. Northe was patient and grim faced, as if she were reliving it with us and seeing it with her own eyes. Our hands were white from grasping one another too tightly. As our tale came to a close, Jonathon voiced the fresh horror.

  “And now, Mrs. Northe, what am I to do? No one knows that demon as Lord Denbury, but Lord Denbury is dead and I wear the face of a killer. I would hope my solicitor was sensible enough to maintain some sort of provision—if I could simply get hold of him without alarming or alerting—”

  “Allow me to intervene on your behalf in terms of your estate. As for who may take the fall in your body’s place, I have my ideas. I think we’ll find a dead French artist in your crypt in your stead. I have contacts in London who will find out. But you should, for safety’s sake, go into hiding, not only because of police pursuit but because of evils that may yet seek you out as a vulnerable vessel. Magic will hang about you both. I can see and feel it, a paranormal aura like a perfume that can attract those gruesome muzzles that sniff out the most revolting of odors and pounce like hungry animals…”

  Mrs. Northe’s eyes were cold, and in that moment, I wondered if she had seen more darkness in her circles than she cared or dared tell. “Do you have any contacts, Lord Denbury, say, out West—as suitable a place as any to wait out a storm?”

  He thought a moment before nodding. “I do. I have a dear friend, a man I’d trust with any life of value. I met him in England at medical lectures. We bonded because we were often the ‘children’ in the room.”

  “Then you should go there. There’s no better time in one’s life for good friends than when one has been lifted from the jaws of hell. In the meantime I believe we may implicate Crenfall in this insidious matter. The timing would suit, and he was an accomplice. He must be brought to justice, though the real culprit remains trapped in shreds of canvas.”

  While I wanted to see Jonathon safe more than anything, the idea of him going away, now that he was real for all of us, was a knife in my heart. I’d dreamed of adventures by his side here, showing him all the glory of this greatest of American cities, of coming out from the shadow of tragedy and into the light of courtship, just as I’d dreamed there beneath the wings of an angel…

  My face must have given away my sentiment. Jonathon and Mrs. Northe turned to me.

  “I’ll not forget you, Natalie—I mean, Miss Stewart.” He glanced at Mrs. Northe. “Forgive the familiarity—”

  “I expect us to be on familiar names here, all of us. The inexplicable breeds familiar family,” Mrs. Northe stated, absolving any impropriety.

  “I-I’ll write. I want you in my life—need you in my life. I’ll come for you…” He trailed away and I saw how overwhelmed he was, as if his instinct to flee and his desire to stay at my side were equal.

  “I want what is best and safest for you. You…” I stared into my lap. “You know my heart.”

  “And you know mine,” he countered. He turned to Mrs. Northe and embarked upon discussions of business, and I felt flattered that he did not wish to keep me from them. After they had spoken of solicitations, attorneys, and other matters, Jonathon turned to me again, a bit sheepishly.

  “Why is it, Mrs. Northe, that out of all the impossible things, here we sit, the three of us, new friends. Yet Natalie is so familiar to me, like an old friend—full of light, color, and magic that she didn’t even know she possessed. You have such a way of accounting for the strange, Mrs. Northe, can you tell me why us?” He reached toward me, touching my cheek.

  “Is it past lives?” I breathed excitedly.

  Mrs. Northe rolled her eyes. “Don’t put stock in past lives. It’s this life that makes the difference. And in this life there may be certain destinies, people you’re meant to meet. We three have been meant to meet. But there is no sole person for another’s heart. Souls cannot be broken and then completed by another. That’s not healthy, nor wise. There are infinite possibilities as there are infinite people and some matches better made than others. Your magic was what was called for at this time in your current pass around the globe.” She made a face.

  “Just don’t say that you’ll die without the other one or that you’ll never love again or that you’re not whole—” She batted her hand. “That’s the stuff of Romeo and Juliet, hasty nonsense, and you know how well that turned out. There’s magic about the two of you, yes. Just don’t be desperate about it. That’s where souls go wrong, when they think they don’t have choices. The heart must make choices.”

  She looked to both of us, as if waiting for us to affirm that we understood. We nodded.

  “Tell me, Lord Denbury, do you see other colors?” she asked. “Other lights around persons, other auras?”

  He nodded. “Yes. You, for one. I sometimes see you with a slow and steady white haze about you, up from your head, almost like a thread. Calm, unruffled.” He smiled but his smile quickly faded. “The girl, Maggie. Red and a bit of yellow. Natalie, green and violet. But not everyone.”

  Mrs. Northe nodded. “Likely you’re sensing abilities or picking up on those whose energy might have an effect on you. It will be interesting to track your progress or to see if the ability hones itself. Did you see these things before your…incident?”

  Jonathon shook his head. “No, but I’ve always been an uncanny judge of character. Save for the demon. He took me utterly unaware.” He blushed, and I knew he was again regretting the opium den. There was no need to mention it.

  “Part of his magic. Put to rest. Good work, friends, and now on to your next adventure.” Mrs. Northe turned to me, a curious look in her eyes. “Natalie, you and I have discussed many things. I’ve laid treatises at your feet, and you have listened patiently. I have done so to lay a foundation. The things that we’ve discussed will not pass as easily out of your life as they so suddenly came into it. And so it’s my duty to arm you as best I can. For I believe you two have been drafted into a most uncommon war. There is, after all, a ‘society’ to attend to,” she said ominously.

  There was an awkward silence as Jonathon and I shuddered. He was going away. Yet, what of me? Were we, as Mrs. Northe indicated, soldiers meant to fight side by side or separately? Was our joint magic now to go two separate ways?

  I would have followed him anywhere. And he knew it, surely…Mrs. Northe cleared any chance for further discussion by rising. “We’d best get you to the depot, Lord Denbury. I’ll pack you a bag. I had Martha make some soup. Go into the dining room and have some. You look hungry and cold, the both of you.”

  We did as we were instructed and said nothing. Please kiss me, I thought, yearning for some reassurance. But this was Mrs. Northe’s home, and privacy was not ours. Nerves, exhaustion, and worry for the future had
taken a grievous toll and we kept silent.

  Dazed, he and I were trundled into a carriage, Mrs. Northe beside us. Looking at Jonathon, so elegant and dashing despite the night’s terrors, made me ache, but I couldn’t force my eyes away. He was in my world now. My world was bursting at the seams. Mrs. Northe gave him some money, tucking it quickly and firmly into his palm. “I know you’ll repay me when you can, but don’t refuse my gift.”

  His eyes poured volumes of thanks upon our gracious, incredible benefactor.

  He turned conflicted eyes on me and I had no words, only the widening ache in my heart. I felt with hard certainty the knowledge of what I would have to do. His hand would clutch mine and then pull away. A maddening cycle.

  When I saw Grand Central Depot, a behemoth mass of tracks and steam engines, my heart leaped to my throat and I had trouble breathing. I couldn’t say good-bye to him; I just couldn’t. It would be wrong if I did. All my life I’d had keen instincts. And my instincts said it was wrong to part—not yet, not so suddenly free. I had taken pains to make sure that when we’d left the museum, my small bag was with me. I knew what I had to do. But he’d likely not accept my coming along, as he chafed at my making sacrifices for him. I had to make an argument, but I had no words.

  “This isn’t good-bye, Natalie,” he reassured me. “I’ll come again. I’ll write to you sooner, via Mrs. Northe.”

  I opened my mouth, and it was as if I were as mute as I had been before I’d met him.

  He hopped out of the carriage, just north of the depot’s platforms. The steam and the noise of the rails were intrusive and maddening, the air gritty and unpleasant.

  He reached for my face through the carriage window. I leaned out to him. “Pardon me, Mrs. Northe, I must—” he murmured, and kissed me passionately. He murmured in my ear that he loved me. I clutched his forearms as if I could hold him to me by force.

  After an interminable moment he pulled away. “Thank you for everything, Natalie. You will hear from me, and I will be whoever you would wish me to be, anything you wish of me…” He fought tears in his eyes and walked away before either of us could exchange more vows or even before I could manage a word.

  I couldn’t keep the tears at bay as I watched his figure, striking in a greatcoat and wide-brimmed hat, disappear into a crowd of passengers.

  Mrs. Northe was staring at me with a curious expression as my feet nudged the cloth bag I’d stowed behind my heels.

  “I know that’s a bag you’re fiddling with,” she stated casually. “I assume since he didn’t invite you that you’re too proud and stubborn to invite yourself along. So instead you’ll steal into a separate car and announce yourself only when it’s too late to turn you back around.”

  I blinked at her. That was exactly what I was planning to do.

  “Clairvoyant tendencies ruin all the fun of surprise,” she pouted. “But they are most certainly useful, just like changes of clothes, in times of crisis. I didn’t think you’d be able to bring enough without making a show of it so I packed another bag and had it waiting here for you,” she stated, sliding a small case from beneath the seat.

  I knew my mouth was agape, but I couldn’t seem to shut it.

  “I think I know your heart sometimes before you do.” She chuckled. “That, and as I told you, I’ve premonitions. But let me be clear, I’m speaking not in the interest of young love, but in the interest of your safety. I’d never recommend a hasty trip such as this, because it seems desperate. However, there’s something else. There’s residual, powerful magic lingering about him, as I’d warned. And it’s most certainly lingering on you too. It will be there hanging about the Metropolitan, perhaps even about me. What I’m saying is this residual echo may make you a target as well—”

  “But are you safe?” I gasped finally.

  “I’ll make sure I am. And I’ll have to convince your father this is for the best, for now. But you might want to catch that train.”

  “Good God, how I’ll miss you! Please tell my father that I’m sorry and I love him—”

  “I will, don’t worry. And you’ll not get rid of me easily.” She grinned and descended from the carriage to help me out and hand me the bags.

  “I should hope not. I adore you,” I cried, throwing my arms around her once my feet hit the cobblestones.

  “And I you, dear girl. There’s an extra bill in your case. With that, be sure to get a sleeper car and ally yourself with a few respectable-looking women until you’re brave enough to confront Denbury on that train,” she instructed, pointing a finger. When she pointed her finger, I knew it was of grave import. I nodded.

  The train’s whistle screamed.

  While surely we both could have listed thousands of reasons why what I was about to do was a terrible idea, I was a woman of decision and I’d made mine, though Mrs. Northe had managed to say it before I did.

  “I’ll write. And I promise to pay you back for everything, somehow,” I called as I retreated. Out on the air, the words on my tongue were still heavy and awkward, still getting used to themselves. Mrs. Northe was again inside the carriage and at the window, her face betraying the first conflict I’d yet seen. While she knew the situation and knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop me, she, like any good substitute mother, would think that getting on a train unbeknownst to the young man you loved might be a terrible idea, all supernatural events aside.

  And still she let me go. Just as she had let me stare down death and the Devil. Likely because whispers from my real mother had told her that my present destiny lay with Jonathon and that I was, perhaps, safer with him. Or so I hoped. Now to convince him of it.

  I sit now at the back of the train, and here is where I’ve been relaying all of these events.

  When I boarded the train, I helped myself into a seat next to three generations: a grandmother, her daughter and granddaughter. The Wills family took instantly to mothering me so that I needn’t have worried about being without a chaperone. I’ve learned that if you just look a little lost and appeal to well-dressed older females, and you yourself are well-dressed, they generally are a beneficial, generous species, if not a bit opinionated.

  New York is rolling away from me in all her massive mess and glory. Beloved and familiar lanes, clutter, congestion, and horse dung. Gorgeous palaces of homes, churning industry, smoke, fire, and gaslight. “I love you,” I whisper to my city as it chugs away and the steam engine gains speed, my breath on the glass and a new darkness ahead as the train veers west.

  Onward! What an adventure! It is not every day that a young woman runs away from home after a handsome man and sees the country by rail. My nerves are mixed with a growing excitement. However, exhaustion sorely tempers me.

  “Pardon me,” I said to the ladies around me. I laid my head upon the glass, not even bothering with the sleeper car, as I’ve never been so exhausted. I’m sure I’ll be asleep in a mere moment. A new world will await me when my heavy eyelids open at dawn.

  Later…

  I slept. And I dreamed.

  In that dream was a dark, long, smooth corridor. Much like the corridor of a train aisle.

  Somewhere in the distance was a pale light, like dawn. Moving. Perhaps that shifting movement was from the threads of light that were so like people, as when I’d dreamed of such tumbling, shifting forces against the backdrop of my city. Perhaps this is what Mrs. Northe meant by there being another existence entirely…

  There were doors at intervals on each side of me, with beveled glass knobs like the one on Jonathon’s painted study door.

  Out from one of those doors far ahead walked Jonathon.

  He turned and looked at me. There was a long silence.

  “You’re on the train,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes.”

  He laughed and then held out his hand. I bit my lip, hardly able to contain myself.

  I moved forward, reaching out to he who is my angel in waking and in dreams.

  I opened my e
yes.

  There, awake, at the door of my train car, was Lord Jonathon Denbury, real and in the gorgeous flesh, holding out his hand for me. I stared at him. I was the girl he’d asked for.

  “Yes, you,” he murmured with an irresistible grin.

  And here I conclude.

  Dear Father,

  By the time you receive this diary, likely you will have already seen to the odd business of the painting, or what’s left of it, anyway. The answer lies within these pages, and while I realize you’ll hardly believe them, please be content in the fact that I am safe and that I am following my destiny. Please do not read the part(s) about kissing and such. You don’t want to know, and I don’t want you to.

  I send this to reassure you I have not been abducted and so you’ll have a testament to the strange events surrounding the portrait of Lord Denbury. (That very man himself has vowed to send me back to New York City unless I assure you of my safety and give you the full story.)

  Whether or not you believe that Mother told Mrs. Northe that this was my path, I believe it. I was not coerced; I am here of my own free will. I pursued the innocent man I love because we will be safer this way. We shall be in contact, and none of this is permanent. I am still a lady, and Lord Denbury is a consummate gentleman. It is my hope that you and Mrs. Northe can come visit. I will write you often.

  I am so grateful for your love, your support, and all the gifts you’ve given me. I cannot express that enough.

  Please respect this path, however strange, and know that I endeavor to make you proud. Jonathon and I want to do the public some good, and we shall do so.

  Through the unusual circumstances of the last weeks, I have once again found my voice. I cannot wait for you to hear it. To converse with you, Father, will be such a gift! And that’s all due to Lord Denbury.

  He is convinced I should make sure I’d rather not have any other suitor—but here is the only area in which he is a fool. I want no other, and when he asks for my hand, I do hope you’ll give your blessing. I daresay a better match could not be made. I love him. Again, please skim over the kissing part(s), and we’ll both be far less embarrassed.