Ravens Deep (one)

by Jane Jordan

  Ravens Deep.

  Back in England he had studied various writings, supposedly true stories and actual accounts of encounters with the un-dead. But all turned out to be folklore and superstitious legends that had been handed down from stories of old. With amusement in his voice he had related most were absurd, crucifixes, water, silver or garlic could not harm him, for as long as his flesh remained it could be repaired. Only fire and sunlight, which to him were the same, could destroy him completely.

  Darius had endured decades and with those long years had come the education and refinement of what his life was today. I believed there was not a subject in existence that he did not have some knowledge of, and listening to him was better than reading any history book. His sultry tone and descriptive storytelling made the images vividly come to life in my mind. Being well read and versed in many cultures of the world, both ancient and civilized, he would relate great love stories from ancient Persia, or the mysterious stories of curses and buried treasure from Egypt. He told me stories of his childhood, his life as a mortal and whilst doing so he would stroke my hair or caress my skin, knowing only too well of the effect it would have upon me. I could never resist him, he was my addiction.

  He encouraged me to write again and with his guidance, I learned to write with a deeper feeling. He attempted to teach me to speak French and Italian, in which he was fluent, although I knew I exasperated him on several occasions. Unlike him, I did not have a natural aptitude for languages and I could never master his level of perfection, but it was good to see him smile in amusement at my disastrous efforts.

  Darius had so much knowledge and I felt that I didn’t’t know anything compared to him, but in time he very slowly educated me in the history of various cultures, the use of natural medicines and herbs and how to make and administer poisons. Something he had learned from his mother, he said. She was a healer, but when he had shown me how to brew dangerous concoctions and related how they would induce sleep or death, information he said could be useful to me, I felt more like I was dabbling in witchcraft. I wondered if she had been a witch, but I did not mention that thought to Darius.

  He was a good, competent teacher; we would spend hours in the library together

  pouring over a book or researching some fact. Occasionally he would bring me an intriguing artefact out of the depths of the museum and he would tell me its fascinating history and from where it had originated.

  Darius would still leave me every two weeks or so for the city, but then he would delight me on his return by bringing me a rare book or some ancient trinket, along with a detailed story of love or corruption that went with each object. He lavished his attention on me and most of the time I felt completely safe, not only from him, but from the world in its entirety. Yet there were times when I witnessed his inner conflict, the demon that he had to bring under control. On these occasions he would leave abruptly and disappear into the night, returning only when his bloodlust had been quietened. Although I had been initially disturbed by these outbursts, in time I began to see this as just a minor inconvenience to our being together and as time passed it did not worry me so much.

  I still had several hours to myself in the daylight and I delighted in the warm sunshine, the garden and the beauty of the countryside around me. Slowly I brought the garden back to its former glory, pruning and weeding and giving much needed attention to the neglected plants. I discovered the ancient herb bed, where Darius’s mother grew many of her herbs to make her strange potions and I planted new ones in memory of her. The garden was once again a beautiful place, well cared for and loved and the only legacy I could leave at Ravens Deep.

  I still needed to venture out on my own, to the village and occasionally further afield. Unlike Darius, I had to eat food and needed to participate in a normal life of sorts without him. But my excursions became less frequent and whenever I left Ravens Deep Darius’s manner would change for the worse and an underlying coldness would emerge for a while. It was as if he wished to keep me far away from any other mortal, lest I decided to return to that world. His fears were unfounded, as nothing could have been further from my mind and I would constantly reassure him of that fact.

  After many months together he found a kind of peace with his inner conflict, and I too was at peace myself. I had known that we could live this way and even Darius came to believe that it was possible for immortal and mortal to exist together in relative harmony. I fulfilled a deep need that he had longed for in his life. I gave him a reason to exist and in return Darius’s significance in my world could not be overstated, he had become as fundamental to my life as the very air I breathed.

  Chapter Twenty One - A Marriage Vow

  It was early evening, the sun had set an hour ago and I was sitting on the kitchen floor wiping up tea that had been knocked from the table top. The china cup lay on its side with its contents still dripping down the table leg, the ghost was agitated once more.

  To my relief, I had learned that all the terrible things that had taken place at Ravens Deep had happened in the part of the house that no longer existed. The bedroom where I slept wasn’t the master bedroom as I had first believed. It had been Isobelle’s room -- Darius’s sister. According to Darius nothing untoward had ever taken place in there. I knew now that the only presence I had ever felt in that room had actually belonged to Darius. I often thought about the opulence of that room, for I imagined Madeline’s bedroom must have been even more spectacular, and it was sad that half of Ravens Deep had been reduced to ashes, for I imagined in its former glory it must have been a truly magnificent house.

  I often thought about Madeline and wondered what she was like. The portrait that hung in my bedroom was a constant reminder that she had once inhabited this house. My resemblance to her was uncanny and I often puzzled as to why it was so strong since there were many generations between us, but I completely understood why Darius's attention had been drawn to me, it must have initially been a great shock for him to have seen me.

  Caught up with my own thoughts I was barely aware that Darius had entered the kitchen. I looked up at him startled, then on seeing his puzzled look I merely said:

  “The ghost.” Darius’s look changed into one of amusement.

  “You still believe this house has a ghost?” he asked half smiling. I stood up, meeting his gaze with my own. My voice was thoughtful when I answered his question.

  “I know it does. It’s not apparent when you are here, but when I am alone it moves things around, opens and shuts doors and creates havoc,” I said gesturing to the mess I had just cleaned up. “Especially in here and in the pantry and the mice are not strong enough to carry the china.” I remarked cordially. I remained thoughtful in my gaze. “I am surprised you cannot sense it; I would have thought it would be very apparent to you.”

  “Maybe it is quietened by my presence,” he said agreeably as he leaned against the counter. He paused and smiled. “I don’t think it means you any harm. Whatever it is, it must be truly dead . . . unlike me.” I got up and went to him.

  “No it is not like you. You are real and it is not,” I said softly. “I suppose it’s

  quite comforting in a strange sort of way.” I thought for a moment, “I believe it is the ghost of Madeline, in fact, I am sure of it,” I said decisively, making up my mind once and for all. Darius was clearly astonished at my assumption.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “A reasonable explanation,” I said hesitating, and hoped my words would not upset him. “It feels female and she would be quietened by your presence -- her only son.” Darius considered for a moment, as if he was deciding whether to humour me or not.

  “Just when did you come to that conclusion?” he said, with an odd expression.

  “Actually just now, it suddenly seems to make sense to me, I think the things she does is just a way of telling me she is here. Perhaps she thinks she can communicate through me to you. I often think about her when I am in here -- knowing this was
her kitchen.” I paused for a brief moment, “I know she had a cook, but when you said she used to concoct her various potions I assumed she must have done it in here.” Darius smiled and pulled me close to him.

  “You have a very colourful imagination. Maybe that is why you fascinate me so, for I could have never come up with that scenario in all of eternity,” he remarked cordially. I laughed as I took a step back from him.

  “You are making fun of me,” I said dryly, “I am sure you would have figured it out sooner or later. With all your refinement and education and it takes a simple mortal like me to point out the obvious to you.”

  “There is nothing simple about you,” he answered amused, “but it does make sense. My mother used to spend all her spare time in the garden gathering various plants, or in the kitchen and pantry. It was in there that she did her concocting, away from the prying eyes of anyone that may have happened into the kitchen.” He paused for a moment. “She had the gift to heal, uncommon for her time, and I know you think her a witch, but if she was she would have been a white witch, the only evil things she did were out of necessity.”

  “I know,” I said quickly. I should have known that Darius would have been able to read my thoughts, especially when they concerned his mother. “Had I been in her position I would probably have done the same thing,” I hesitated for a few moments. “If she did kill Theo, she would have concocted that poison in the pantry, out of sight of any servants.”

  “Yes, most certainly,” Darius said reflectively. “That is why her soul is not at peace.” There was sadness in his voice. “She killed him once, only to have him return and take her life years later, also destroying the lives of her children into the bargain,” he remarked with a distant look on his face. I placed my hand on his arm.

  “You know it’s only a theory, Darius,” I said softly.

  “I know -- a good one though. She would be quietened by my presence.” I smiled at him.

  “Well, that’s good isn’t’t it?” I asked cautiously, “I mean when you are here you know she is calmed.”

  “I suppose so,” he answered distantly. I had the distinct feeling he was lost in deep thought, transported back in time to that night. I waited for his mind to return and I reflected that Darius in fact had never died, not in the true sense of the word, he had only transgressed into another being. Perhaps I was wrong to assume that he would be aware of ghosts and other entities any more than mortals. Darius looked at me and smiled, he had come back to me and the present moment.

  “Come with me,” he said, taking my hand. “There is a full moon tonight -- let’s go outside.”

  The garden had taken on a magical quality, bathed in full moonlight. An occasional heavy cloud briefly obscured the moon, causing our surroundings to plummet into darkened shadows for a few minutes, before appearing again in the luminous white radiance. In the distance the sea was smooth and as dark as black velvet, not a single ripple disturbed the surface.

  It was the month of October and the trees had begun to shed their leaves. A sudden cool breeze coming in from the coast whipped those dead leaves into the air where they danced for a few moments before falling silently to the ground. I shivered and moved closer to Darius. He wrapped his arms around me and we stood watching the night unfold about us. I was warmed and comforted by his presence. After a few minutes, I turned to him.

  “Can we go for a walk?” He looked at me with surprise.

  “Where do you want to walk to?”

  “Let’s walk to the church,” I said making up my mind quickly.

  “You could fall in the darkness,” he reasoned. “The path is very narrow in places and in the dark it could be dangerous for you.”

  “I have a torch, besides, you will not let me fall,” I replied, I was wondering why he seemed reluctant, but maybe he was just concerned for my safety. Although it did occur to me that we had never left Ravens Deep or its gardens together and I wondered if that was what had made him hesitate. Whatever the reason he never spoke it out loud and he agreed to walk to the church. I saw him take some matches and put them in his pocket. He saw my curious look.

  “For the candles in the church,” he said.

  We walked through the cool woodlands, surrounded by blackness and the shadows that moved constantly in the breeze. The beam from my torch gave me a small amount of light so I could at least see where I was stepping. But Darius paid more attention to me and where I was walking than himself. Observing this led me to a thought process that I had not imagined before.

  “Can you see in the dark, Darius?”

  “Yes, I see everything. It is different for me,” he answered, and tried to clarify his

  words. “Darkness is not that dark -- more like twilight, but the details are much clearer than they would be in your twilight.”

  It seemed so strange to me that we were side by side and yet our perception and view of everything around us could be so different. The rustlings of the nocturnal creatures moving amongst the undergrowth disturbed the silence of the air. My mind went back to my previous thoughts and I continued with my line of questioning.

  “Can you hear better than me?” I asked, now intrigued.

  “Yes, I hear everything. I believe all my senses are heightened, although it has been so many years now that it feels normal to me; how it should be.”

  “So what about telepathy?” I pressed.

  “What about it?” he replied, obviously amused by my train of thought.

  “When I first met you. . .” I paused, trying to find the right words. “I could have sworn that you said different words to me. . . words not uttered from your mouth, but from somewhere else. . . from your mind maybe?” Darius laughed as he thought about the question.

  “You know telepathy is the communication of thoughts, feelings or desires between people involving mechanisms that cannot be understood in terms of known scientific laws. I desired you and I knew that I appealed to your senses. Why is it strange that out of that you could hear my inner voice?” His words seemed to make sense to me, but I thought about the other voices I had heard.

  “But I also heard things when you did not wish me to continue a particular conversation,”

  “It works both ways, Madeline; it’s just thought transference. When you are very in tune with other person’s senses, or their perceptions, it is easy to master. Or maybe I can do it because I am immortal,” he paused, “I do not know for certain.”

  We had been walking a while and with Darius’s guidance I had managed not to fall. As usual we talked about everything and nothing, and I had not realized how close we were to our destination. So I was surprised when the church loomed out of the darkness before us. Moments later we stood in the graveyard.

  “Why did you want to come here?” Darius asked, as he turned to me.

  “I wanted to come here with you -- I know you come here on your own,” I answered casually. Our surroundings had taken on an eerie and ghostly atmosphere that was made more apparent by the tombstones illuminated by the moonlight.

  Darius took my hand and we walked around the tombstones. He related the occupants of the various graves, all of whom he had once known. We finally reached the four sarcophaguses that stood underneath the oak tree. Now, they held more significance to me than before and I instantly saw the one that had more carvings and depictions than any of the others.

  It was obvious to me now that it was his father, John Chamberlayne’s tomb. Madeline had the time to commission this intricate work. The other three stood with only a few markings. Darius had not the time to allow the others to have been made in such elaborate detail. I turned to him.

  “Which one is yours?” I said quietly. Darius pointed, indicating to me -- his tomb.

  “That one,” he said simply. I looked at it. On the bottom was a simple letter D. I had not noticed that before on my previous excursion to the graveyard. Although the sight of the letter and the significance it represented disturbed me, I asked why there was only one le
tter. Darius moved closer to his tomb.

  “For every hundred years I exist, I will carve the next letter in my name,” he said

  nonplussed. I smiled at him.

  “You have a long name, you must be confident that you will be around for a long time to come,” I said cordially, trying to inject some humour into the sombre conversation. He sighed.

  “Not necessarily.” I shot him a puzzled look and I walked up to the sarcophagus. I ran my hand lightly over the rough stone and turned to look at him.

  “Darius, when I die, I want to be buried here so you know I will wait for you,” I said matter of factly. His eyes held mine captive for a moment, but he was clearly startled by my words.

  “Madeline don’t. . . I don’t want to think about that.” I refused to be put off by his reaction and I moved close to him.

  “Darius, I will die one day and when I do I want to be here. So you will know that I will be forever waiting for you,” I said, suddenly caught up in the emotion of my own words. He put his arms around me and held me tightly.

  “If you die -- I will surely die too,” he replied in barely a whisper.

  We stood for a long time wrapped in each other’s arms, but the breeze that blew across the graveyard was cold and before long, I was shivering. Darius released me.