“He made it no secret that she had attracted him immensely. He spent that night with her and subsequently the following week whilst he stayed with Henry. By all accounts, they were inseparable: picnics, gatherings and dinner at Henry’s estate. However, when it came to James leaving to return home, he broke the news to her that she would not be joining him.”
“I bet that went down well?” I joked.
“The argument that followed did not make his departure easy. James was furious at her behaviour – she had declared her love for him. He had simply wanted a companion with no further involvement; she did not take the news well. She called him a liar, a scoundrel with malicious intent to women, and made it clear that just because he was leaving, it would not be the end of the matter. However, James left and returned home, and simply put it down to experience.”
“So I’m guessing that she didn’t leave it at that then?” I asked intently.
“Oh no!” he replied as he took a sip of his wine, whilst I gulped a large mouthful of mine, wondering what the young woman had done for revenge.
“News travelled fast about James’ behaviour. His friend Henry had tried to eradicate all rumours, but Alice seemed to be well connected and she fast had people, particularly women, whispering in his presence. He was angry and frustrated and as women avoided him more, he drank more. Then, in August – the month before his birthday – everything seemed to settle and James became a little less anxious as life appeared to return to normal. He carried on his duties here, drank slightly less and started to attend social functions again.”
“I take it that his philandering ways re-appeared then?” I asked with annoyance. He may have been good-looking, but his treatment of women seemed more reminiscent of men’s behaviour today, not back then.
“I am not painting a very good picture of him, Katharina, but you did ask for the truth. I know that his heart is good, and can be again!” he sighed as he re-filled our wine glasses.
“You said ‘is good’ and ‘can be’… I think we are getting past and present tenses mixed up here, George. This was a long time ago!” I reminded him. He held his finger up to me.
“Ah, yes, a long time ago it was, but please let me finish,” he asked. I nodded in agreement.
“You cannot stop now; I want to know what happened to that scoundrel too!” I said.
“The lovely Margaret wanted to mark the thirtieth birthday of her only son. With the absence of her beloved Howard, she held a ball here at Northfield, to which she invited all the acquaintances and families that they knew. Of course, there were many girls that attended that James had seemingly had intimate liaisons with, so it was not the most comfortable of situations. His dear mother had the intention of finding him a wife once and for all, should he like it or not.”
“Oooh, I cannot see them lining up if they knew his ways though?” I cringed.
“Well, he conversed, I think, with every person that attended as he made his way through a large amount of wine, but nothing prepared him for the one thing he least expected…”
“What?” I asked. “Someone shot him with a pistol? I bet there were a few who wanted to!” I quickly asked. George shook his head.
“Alice!” he simply stated as he stood and walked to the roaring fire.
“Oh dear! A big scene at his birthday ball, and in front of all his friends.” I grimaced.
“Oh, you have no idea! She arrived in the darkest shade of red that I think I have ever seen, but the stories were true; she was beautiful and flawless but full of hate and anger.”
“Gosh, I would have loved to have seen the look on his face!” I smirked.
George then walked to the table, put his glass down and then took mine and set it down beside his. He crouched in front of me and took my hands in his. “The next part is the hard to believe part!’” he sincerely said. The look in his eye told me I needed to be prepared for something big, I swallowed hard.
“Go on,” I replied.
“She waited until the ball was all but ended, and then appeared alone in the middle of the ballroom, where Henry and his mother were. Alice was no ordinary girl. She had watched James since he left her in Yorkshire, and waited for the right moment to get her revenge over her broken heart. In fairness to her, she did truly love him, I believe.”
“You say she was no ordinary girl… what exactly did she do?” I hesitantly asked. George squeezed my hands.
“I have a good feeling about you, Katharina. You know your love of fairy tales and stories that your mother used to read to you as a child?” he asked.
“Yes? I don’t see how that is relevant?”
“What would you say if I told you that most of those stories were written based on truth?” He gazed into my eyes, looking for an answer.
“I would say that a ‘fairy tale’ is exactly what they are – make-believe tales.” I laughed lightly. “Why, George? Are you telling me that they are real?”
“I said that some are based on truths. Not everything is always as it appears, Katharina,” he then replied. I released my hands from his and took another sip of wine.
“Please do go on, I am at a loss as to where this story is leading,” I replied. He pulled a chair up close to me and we sat with our knees inches apart.
“Alice declared that she was a witch,” he then said, matter-of-factly. I had unfortunately just taken a sip of wine and nearly choked.
“I’m sorry, a witch? Like the wicked witch of the west? You are joking, right?” I asked rhetorically.
“I never joke about this!” he replied sternly. I stopped laughing. “She had waited until she could punish him vengefully, and in front of the one woman who loved him so much… Margaret! She was not going to let him suffer lightly!” he remarked. I tapped my hands onto my thighs, thinking that I would humour George, who I was now starting to think was slightly deranged.
“Alright, so what did she do then?” I asked, trying to sound serious.
“She cast a spell – one which would see him suffer for many, many years – and he still does!” he remarked.
“Wait, you are saying he is still alive?” I quizzed.
“In a manner of speaking!”
“How so? We are talking over 250 years here, George. Have you done the math?” I asked. He grunted and shook his head.
“Always this part that gets the questions!” he remarked.
“How many people have you told about this? Is this why the Wainwrights left? I mean, it is hard to take in, George, without you sounding like you need institutionalising!” I replied sarcastically.
“You promised that you would listen to the whole story and then assimilate and let me know your thoughts!” he suddenly snapped. I stopped and held my hand up.
“I did. I apologise. Please do finish and then I will let you know what I think!” I laughed lightly, trying to sound convincing.
“Alice conjured up the most vengeful of spells. She wanted James to suffer and learn from his behaviour. The spell she cast upon him was to torture him slowly over many years, whilst she sat and watched with delight.”
“You haven’t told me what she did though, George,” I asked, now a little irritated.
“She banished him to live a life watching from the outside looking in!” he said as he walked to one of the large mirrors. “He is captive within the mirrors that you have so frequently remarked upon; bound to watch life pass him by, like looking through a window, but never being able to pass through it,” he said as he touched the mirror. Now he had my attention; I too had thought a couple of times that I had seen something. I stood and walked toward him.
“You are telling me that the thirty-year-old James Aldersley, the man in the portrait in the long hall, from 1750, is trapped inside this mirror?” I repeated.
“That’s exactly what I am saying. Good summary, Katharina!” he remarked as I stepped back.
“So he can see us?” I asked, feeling a little uneasy, as now George was sounding like he was a little bit
more insane, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
“Oh he can see us alright, and I him. I have had to put up with his sorry sight in this form for 264 years now!” he replied as he turned to me.
“You can see him? Can you talk to him? Wait, why am I even asking these questions? This is insane! Brilliant, but insane!” I laughed as I went back to get my glass.
“She’s not going anywhere!” George then said. “Give her a minute, I feel more questions…”
“You’re talking to him now?” I asked, frustrated.
“There we go!” George remarked. “Yes, he’s a little angry at me for trying to explain his sorry situation!” George said. “What he has to remember is that I have had to share it with him!” he then stated. I stood still.
“What?” I asked. George sighed and returned to his chair and re-filled his glass again.
“Alice cast the spell that night. All in the name of love! She wanted him to think about what he had done to her and other women in his past for as long as she saw fit. She thought it was about time that he had the opportunity to assess his life completely, and the best way to do that was to isolate him from anyone in this world.”
“But he’s not dead?” I asked.
“No, not dead, just… stuck! Alice gave him the opportunity to rectify himself, by saying that the spell would be broken if he could make a woman fall in love with him through his words alone, which would be spoken to her through the mirror. Someone pure of heart, who would want to know him completely and would fall in love with him without his touch! That woman has to declare her love openly and truthfully to free him and me. Or if that didn’t happen in fifty years, she said that she would come back and break the spell herself, as he would have learnt his lesson well. However, witches being witches and all… unfortunately, ten years after she cast this spell, she was caught in a witch hunt and burnt at the stake, so that put an end to that!”
“He can never get out?” I asked, trying to believe a word he was saying.
“Oh, he can if he can stop being so pig-headed and feeling sorry for himself and actually try. God knows I have tried!” he remarked as he gulped down his wine.
“How do you fit into this, George?” I then asked.
“That valet that you spoke of before… the one that would have been disappointed watching him change, so dramatically, and be saddened… that was me. As Alice cast the spell and his mother tried not to collapse at the loss of her son, I felt duty-bound to ask that he have someone familiar to be able to converse with. She happily obliged – with me! So we are now both stuck like this, at the age we were back then, with no hope of life carrying on normally until he can get his act together!” George gestured toward the mirror.
“How does he eat, drink and sleep?” I asked, thinking that I could stop George and his ‘tale’ from being so believable.
“Oh, Alice was clever. Everything that we see reflected that is not living – as in people, or animals – he has the mirror image on his side of the mirror! He can eat the same foods, read the same books, have the same objects, but everywhere that we see a mirror it is like a window to him back to this world! So he watches everything passing along in front of him, with little or no hope!” George shook his head. I gulped my wine down.
“How is any woman supposed to be able to listen to his words if they cannot see or hear him?” I asked. George sat up promptly.
“Ah, good question Katharina. I believe that the spell is impenetrable to most, and only those pure of heart, and willing to believe, can see. They have to be believers of all things possible and then they too will be able to see him and indeed converse with him!” he stated.
“Like children and ghosts?” I asked.
“Well, twelve-year-old Maria Wainwright definitely saw him and conversed with him many times, much to her parents’ disapproval. They thought the house was haunted and that she was going mad! She was too young and too naïve; trying to get her to stay in hope of something progressing didn’t happen, unfortunately!”
I sighed and looked into the mirror to which I returned. I placed my hand upon it. “Even if I wanted to believe your story, George, it really does sound like a tall tale with no truth.” I sighed, starting to think that my so-called front page story was an old man intent on being a big believer of fairy tales himself.
“But you have seen him!” George then replied. “You have felt his gaze!”
“The mirrors feel warm to the touch, unlike most!” I then remarked. My head was spinning from a story that was leading nowhere fast, and from the amount of wine that George had obviously supplied to help his courage to tell the story and mine to accept it.
The thunder had now started. With the flashing lightning and the rain that had still not relented, I had the sudden urge to retire to bed. I could tell from George’s face that he most probably expected me to run, but one thing I had learnt was that there was no harm to be had from him. I held my hands up in defeat. “George, I like you and this has been an interesting evening, but can I please take all of this in and speak with you tomorrow, at breakfast? I seem to have a headache accumulating and feel the need to sleep!” I stated.
“Of course. Thank you for not bolting out of the door! I will see you in the morning!” he replied as I walked from the room, but not before taking off my heels, which were now making me feel slightly precarious.
I walked up the staircase and every mirror that I now came upon I stared at intently. It was an unnerving thought that someone could be watching me, a bit like in the movies, where the FBI or police have interview rooms with two-way mirrors. I wanted to see him – if he even existed! I shook my head – what on earth was I thinking? This was ridiculous. All I could think about now was how much John was going to love this, which made me frown.
I entered my room and took the liberty of undressing behind the screen, just in case, as there was one large mirror in my room. By the time I slipped under the heavy blankets, my eyes were nearly closed. I had no idea that listening to stories could be so tiresome…
Chapter Seven
I knew that I had not slept too long when I awoke with a start, but the banging thunder, which I was sure was right above the house, was enough to wake anyone from the dead. I jumped up just as the lightning snapped again, and the lamp that I had left on at the side of my bed flickered and then went out. I sat up. The room suddenly seemed very large, bathed in only glowing embers from the fire that had been lit without me realising. Feeling thirsty from the wine that I had drunk too much of, I decided to go to the bathroom and get some water. I stumbled to the edge of the bed and reached out for the dressing table, which had my phone charging upon it. Apps are fast becoming a favourite piece of technology, I thought, as I turned on the torch.
I stubbed my toe on the doorjamb not once but twice and bent to rub it; then, losing my sense of direction for a second, I turned the wrong way. As I started down the corridor and saw my reflection in the mirror at the end of the hallway, the beam of light illuminating my face, I stopped and tutted, then turned the right way. I walked about three steps and then the hair on the back of my neck stood on end again, so I stopped. God, I was going to give myself a heart attack if I kept carrying on this way, I had far too many thoughts of fairy tales running through my mind! “For goodness’ sake,” I muttered to myself and I turned and shined the phone light at the mirror I had just turned away from. No sooner had I raised the light and shined it directly at that mirror did my heart start racing. It was not me looking back at myself, but the figure of a man with his hand to his eyes, cursing about the bright light in his!
I turned quickly and screamed, hearing someone tell me to ‘wait’, but I tried to tell myself I was dreaming and walked away in the darkness. Mumbling to myself all the way down the corridor, I neared what I thought was the bathroom. Another mirror was on the wall beside me, and something caught my eye and moved when I stopped. I froze for a second, then swallowed hard and turned and looked toward it in the da
rk and slowly lifted my still-lit phone. There he was again, slightly dishevelled, wearing a loose white shirt and a very worried look about his face.
“Hi,” he said simply as he raised one hand and waved to me. It took me about three seconds to absorb what was in front of me, then as the hallway spun and I felt myself passing out, I distinctly remember him saying, “Not quite the effect I was hoping for!” then I hit the floor.
I could hear voices. As I tried to process what had happened, I listened; I knew George’s voice, but not the other.
“Hi – that’s all you could think of to say?”
“Well, she took me by surprise, not to say blinded me with that light!”
“What were you trying to do? Scare the living daylights out of her?”
“Well I don’t know, George! I think you were doing a fine job of sending her running during dinner with your story telling!”
“Well it was the truth, and nothing is ever going to change with your attitude. Eventually this house will fall into disrepair and we are going to be in serious trouble!”
“It wasn’t exactly my choice to be left like this!”
“Nor mine, but your lack of respect for women in general is what got us into this mess in the first place! Maybe Katharina was correct and Alice should have shot you with a pistol – it certainly would have saved a long lifetime of misery for both of us!”
“Well thank you for that, George! I still cannot believe that she agreed to stay the night anyway, after you enlightened her. I was simply intrigued by her strength of character and choice to remain here, so I was watching her out of curiosity.”
“Well, now that you seem to have caused her to faint, she may have second thoughts about staying!”
“She is quite beautiful, is she not?”
“Will you focus for one moment boy?”
“I was merely observing, George!”
“Well, stop observing and think about what you are going to say when she wakes up, because quite clearly she can see and hear you!”
I groaned lightly as I fought to open my eyes and was then blinded by light as the electricity came back on.
A Different Reflection Page 7