Jane Fairfax 3 - Jane Vows Vengeance

by Michael Thomas Ford

  “To save my mother,” said Walter.

  “Yes,” Jane said. “To save Miriam.”

  “Thank you for that,” Walter said.

  “Well, she is my mother-in-law,” Jane reminded him. Then she remembered that they were yet to be married. “Will be my mother-in-law,” she said. “Might be my mother-in-law.”

  Walter said nothing. Jane, unable to stand the uncertainty, finally asked, “Where does this leave us?”

  Walter didn’t look at her. “I don’t know,” he said.

  “Do you still love me?” asked Jane.

  “Yes,” Walter answered. “I do.”

  “It’s the vampire thing, isn’t it?” said Jane.

  “Strangely enough, no,” Walter replied. “It’s that you didn’t think you could tell me the truth. And you were going to marry me without telling me.”

  “I was hoping I could find a solution,” Jane said. “That way you would never have had to know.”

  Walter took her hand. “But don’t you see how that’s even worse?” he said. “We should know everything about each other—the good and the bad. If there’s something about yourself you feel you have to hide away from me, that’s always going to be between us. There’s always going to be that one hidden room you won’t let me into. And you’ll be so worried that someday I might accidentally open the door to that room that you’ll never be able to fully be yourself. You’ll always be on guard. And the worst part is that the person you’ll be afraid of is the one who loves you the most.”

  Jane felt tears forming in her eyes. “But you know now,” she said. “I don’t have to keep that door closed anymore.”

  Walter squeezed her hand. “But you didn’t open the door on your own,” he said. “It was forced open.”

  Jane sniffed as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Ben can still marry us,” she said. “Tomorrow. We can start fresh. No more secrets.”

  Walter looked into her eyes. “I don’t know if I can,” he said.

  Jane began to cry. “Please, Walter,” she said. “Don’t say no. I don’t think I can bear it.”

  Walter took her in his arms and held her tightly. “I love you more than anything in the world,” he whispered. “But I don’t know.”

  They stayed that way for a long time, Walter just holding Jane while she wept. Eventually he let go and she wiped her eyes.

  “I’m going to go now,” Jane said. “I’m going to go away and give you time to think. Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock I’ll be standing in the White Tower, waiting for you. If you still want to marry me, you meet me there.”

  “And if I don’t come?” asked Walter.

  Jane forced a smile. “La la la la la,” she said, putting her hands over her ears. She took them away again and kissed Walter lightly on the lips. Then she stood up and without another word left the room.

  Byron found her a few hours later, sitting in the American Bar listening to the piano player and drinking gin and tonics. She’d had three, and was working on her fourth.

  “Lucy has been looking all over for you,” Byron said as he sat down at her table. “She’s worried.”

  “You told her what happened?” Jane asked.

  “An abbreviated version of the story,” Byron said. “Dare I ask how things went with our dear Walter?”

  Jane took a long sip from her glass. “I told him that I’ll be waiting for him in the Tower tomorrow morning at nine,” she said.

  “How typically passive-aggressive of you,” said Byron.

  Jane glared at him. “I’m not in the mood for you,” she warned.

  “Don’t worry,” Byron said. “I haven’t come to torment you. I came to give you a wedding present.”

  He laid a long, thin black velvet box on the table. Jane looked at it. “Is it a necklace?” she asked hopefully.

  “Open it,” Byron said.

  Jane picked up the box, which was surprisingly heavy, and opened it. Inside, nestled in a narrow trench pressed into the velvet, was a piece of metal about nine inches long. One end came to a very fine point, while the other was rounded.

  “It’s Crispin’s Needle,” Byron informed her before she could ask.

  Jane, confused, set the box down. “The Needle is a myth,” she said. “You told me as much yourself.”

  “Yes, well, I lied,” said Byron. “It very much exists, and there it is. Happy returns of the day and all that.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jane said. “Where did you get it?”

  “Do you remember when I told you about Ambrose?” Byron asked.

  “The vampire who turned you,” Jane said. “Of course.”

  “He gave it to me,” said Byron. “It was given to him by Crispin himself. He wanted me to use it. Even though he turned me, he thought the greatest gift he could give me was to restore my humanity. He begged me to do it. But I didn’t want to be human.”

  Jane reached out her hand and held it over the Needle.

  “You can touch it,” Byron said. “It won’t harm you. It only works if you drive it into your heart.”

  Jane touched her finger to the nail. It was cool to the touch.

  “Is it really made from the nails used to crucify Christ?” she asked.

  “Who knows?” said Byron. “You know what happens with these things—someone makes up a story and then someone else adds something to it, and before long you’ve got a hammer that was forged from the tongue of a frost dragon.”

  Jane ran her finger down the length of the Needle. She let her fingertip rest against the point, pressing down until she could feel the Needle just begin to pierce her flesh. She pulled her hand away.

  “You’ve had this all along,” she said. “And you’ve never told me about it. Why?”

  Byron looked at her, and Jane was surprised to see sadness in his eyes. “Can’t you guess?” he asked. “I was afraid you would want to use it.”

  Jane couldn’t speak. She understood exactly what Byron meant. Hadn’t she been doing the same thing by hiding from Walter the fact that, should he choose it, she could grant him eternal life? Wasn’t this the same reason why she hadn’t offered to turn her sister Cassie, or anyone else from her family? I was afraid they would say yes, she told herself.

  “Are you going to use it?” Byron asked her.

  Jane still couldn’t speak. She simply shook her head and shrugged.

  “Tell you what,” said Byron. “I’ll be at the Tower tomorrow at nine as well. We’ll see then.” He bent down and kissed Jane on the cheek. “Either way, I’ll always love you,” he said.

  He started to walk away, then returned. “I almost forgot,” he said. “I got something for Sarah.” He reached into his pocket and placed on the table a small toy replica of one of the Daleks from the Doctor Who television show.

  “I’ve been introducing her to the Doctor,” he said. He then adopted the peculiar high-pitched voice of the Daleks. “Exterminate!” he said, using their famous line.

  Jane laughed. “She’s going to love it,” she said.

  Byron left. Jane sat very still, looking at the Needle and thinking. When she could think no more she closed the box and picked up the Dalek. This one was aluminum in color, with a single eye that lit up with a blue bulb. When she pressed a button on the bottom, the toy spoke just as Byron had. “Exterminate!” it said.

  She pressed the button again. This time she heard a noise resembling radio static. Then a voice came from the Dalek.

  “I told you the Needle was real.”

  It was the voice from the elevator.

  “Yes, but you might have been a bit more helpful as to where it was,” Jane said.

  “Sorry about that,” said the voice. “I can’t be expected to know everything. But you’ve got it now, that’s the important thing. So, are you going to use it?”

  Jane, feeling very self-conscious about holding a conversation with a toy Dalek, looked around before replying. “I don’t know,” she said.

  The voice sighed. “It’s
what you wanted,” it said.

  “I thought I did,” Jane said. “Now I don’t know. And by the way, who are you?”

  “Haven’t you guessed?” asked the voice. “I’m Apollonia.”

  “The saint?” Jane said. “So you do exist.”

  “Of course I do. Didn’t you see the windows?”

  “Yes,” Jane said. “But you know how it is. Tongue from a frost dragon and all that. If you don’t mind my asking, are you in heaven?”

  “There’s no more time for questions,” Apollonia said. “I just wanted to know if you’d decided to use the Needle. If you don’t want it, you really ought to give it to someone who does, you know.”

  “That’s very saintlike of you,” Jane remarked.

  “I do try,” said Apollonia. “Look, I have to go now. Do try to make up your mind soon, will you?”

  “I will,” Jane told her. “And you take care of yourself. Give my regards to God. Or whomever.”

  The Dalek was silent. Jane held it in her hand for another few minutes, in case Apollonia had anything else to say. When it seemed she didn’t, Jane slipped the Dalek into her pocket and picked up the case containing the Needle. Then she left the bar and went in search of Lucy.

  It never hurts to get a second opinion, she told herself.

  Sunday: London

  “OH, YOU’RE BACK.”

  Prince Edward the Fifth of England materialized in front of Jane. He was joined a moment later by Richard of Shrewsbury, First Duke of York. They were wearing the same outfits Jane had seen them in before.

  “Do ghosts never get to change their clothes?” Jane asked.

  Richard shook his head. “No. You get just the one set.”

  “We’re just thankful that we didn’t get stuck with our night-clothes,” Edward said.

  “You mean you don’t get whatever you had on when you were mur—when you died?” Jane asked.

  “Some do, some don’t,” Edward answered. “I think they go with what’s the most dramatic.”

  “That makes sense,” Jane said.

  “Are you really getting married this time?” Richard asked.

  Jane sighed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I hope so.”

  “And did you find Crispin’s Needle?” said Edward.

  “Yes and no,” Jane told him. “I didn’t find it, but it eventually found me.”

  “And did you use it?” asked Richard.

  Before Jane could answer they were interrupted by the arrival of Lucy and Ben. Jane was surprised to also see Miriam and William. She hoped their presence was a sign that Walter was coming as well.

  “Is he with you?” Jane asked Lucy, her heart beating madly.

  Lucy shook her head. “He wasn’t in his room when we left. We don’t know where he is.”

  It was ten minutes before nine.

  Jane wrung her hands as she paced back and forth. The two ghosts watched her, which only made her more anxious. Lucy stood by looking as if she didn’t know what to do.

  “Did you talk to him?” Jane asked Miriam.

  “I tried,” she said. “We tried.” She cocked her head at William.

  “The boy didn’t want to hear anything we had to say,” said William. “I’m afraid he’s still quite angry with all of us.”

  “He must get his stubbornness from you,” Miriam said.

  “Quiet,” Lucy said. “Remember, Ben still doesn’t know everything.”

  “You ought to tell him,” said William. “Nothing good can come out of keeping it a secret. Just ask Jane.”

  Jane glared at him, and William suddenly became very interested in his fingernails.

  “It’s not going to matter if they don’t get married,” Miriam said.

  Jane thought she detected a note of disappointment in Miriam’s voice. This surprised her, and she said, “I thought you’d be happy about that.”

  Miriam shrugged. “I did too,” she said.

  “But?” said Jane.

  “Don’t make me say it,” Miriam said.

  “Go on,” said William. “Out with it, woman.”

  “Fine,” said Miriam. “I guess I’m just impressed that you were willing to go to such lengths to … change back. You know, for Walter’s sake.”

  “She means it was good of you to stick yourself with Crispin’s Needle,” William translated. “By the way, did it hurt much?”

  Jane began to reply but was cut off by the sound of the ghost brothers clapping.

  “He’s come!” they cried. “He’s come!”

  Jane turned around. Walter was standing at the entrance to the chapel. Byron was beside him.

  “Look who I found!” Byron said cheerfully.

  Jane walked over to them. “You look very handsome,” she said.

  “Thank you,” said Byron. “I’m quite fond of this suit and—”

  “Not you, you idiot,” Jane said. “I was speaking to Walter.” She smiled. “But you do look handsome too,” she said.

  “Of course I do,” said Byron. “Now I believe we have a wedding to go to.”

  “Not yet,” Walter said.

  Jane stiffened, waiting for his next words.

  “Can I see you in private for a minute?” Walter said.

  Jane nodded, afraid to speak. Walter took her hand and led her out of the chapel.

  They returned five minutes later. When they entered, both had clearly been crying. But they also had smiles on their faces, and when Lucy looked at Jane and silently mouthed, “Are you okay?” Jane nodded.

  Once more Jane found herself standing in front of Ben.

  “Dearly beloved,” he began. “We are gathered here—again—to celebrate the marriage of Walter Aaron Fletcher and Elizabeth Jane Fairfax.” He paused and Jane tensed, knowing what was coming next. “If anyone can show just cause as to why these two should not be joined together in holy matrimony, let him speak now,” Ben said.

  “Well, since you asked—” Byron began.

  “Shut up!” Jane, Lucy, Miriam, and William said as one.

  “I was only joking,” Byron muttered, then yelped as Lucy pinched the back of his arm.

  “Walter and Jane will now exchange vows,” Ben said.

  Walter turned and, holding Jane’s hands, began to speak. “I, Walter, take you, Jane, to be my wife. To have and to hold. To love and to cherish. In sick—”

  “Wait a minute!” Byron said.

  Jane and Walter looked at him.

  “Those are your vows? Really?” He huffed and rolled his eyes. “And you call yourself a writer,” he said to Jane.

  “They’re traditional,” Jane said defensively.

  “They’re dull,” said Byron. “Just a moment. Who has a pen?”

  Miriam produced a pen from her bag and handed it to him. Byron removed a train ticket stub from his coat pocket and began to write on it. He paused a moment, closing his eyes and tapping the pen against his forehead.

  “What are you doing?” Jane asked, growing annoyed.

  “Quiet!” Byron ordered. “I’m trying to think.”

  He scribbled some more on the ticket and set it aside. Then he searched his pockets and came up with another piece of paper, this one a crumpled sales receipt for a box of cough drops. He smoothed it out and once more set to writing. When he was done he handed the train ticket to Walter and the receipt to Jane.

  “There you are,” he said. “Now proceed.”

  Walter peered closely at the train ticket. “I, Walter, take you, Jane, as my beloved wife and friend. As we walk this world together I promise to guard your heart from despair and worry. I will be your champion and rejoice in your accomplishments as if they are my own. When you laugh I will laugh with you, and when you cry I will kiss away your tears. Something about a white-winged dove.”

  “Not that bit,” Byron called out. “It was just an idea. Sorry. Should have excised it.”

  “I will be your constant companion until the end of this world and the beginning of the next,” Walter concluded.


  Jane, who was trying very hard not to cry, sniffed. “I, Jane, take you, Walter, as my beloved husband and friend. I promise to make our journey together one of adventure and discovery. Every morning I will wake beside you, and every night I will go to sleep in your arms. My dreams will be yours, and yours mine.” She choked up a little, and Walter squeezed her hand. “I will be your true love and heart’s east—”

  “Ease!” Byron shouted. “His heart’s ease!” He shook his head. “I give up!”

  “Your true love and your heart’s ease until the end of this world and the beginning of the next,” she concluded.

  “I believe there are rings to be exchanged,” said Ben.

  “Yes, there are,” said Lucy. “Sorry. I forgot all about them.”

  She got up and came forward. She handed one ring to Walter and one to Jane. Walter held Jane’s hand as he slid his ring onto her finger, and then Jane did the same with her ring.

  “Now that you have stood before us and exchanged these rings and these vows, it is my great pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife,” Ben said.

  To much applause, Walter kissed Jane. Then, not knowing what else to do, he kissed her again. Moments later they were surrounded by their friends, being hugged and kissed all around.

  “That was quite nice,” Prince Edward said to the First Duke of York.

  “But not quite as thrilling as a beheading,” said Richard.

  “Well, no, not quite that nice,” agreed his brother.

  “I’m not sure what we do now,” Jane said after she’d run out of people to hug. “Shall we go to breakfast?”

  “I think tradition dictates that you leave for your honeymoon,” William suggested.

  Jane looked at Walter. “But we haven’t really planned any—”

  “Actually, I had an idea,” Walter said.

  Jane looked around her bedroom. “It looks very much the same,” she told Walter.

  Chawton Cottage was quite crowded. Walter and Jane had arrived at the same time as a tour group from the United States, and as they walked through the rooms of Jane’s old home they were constantly competing with ladies dressed in period costumes clutching bags from the gift shop.

  “Too bad you’re not getting a piece of this action,” Walter said.