Storm at Marshbay

by Clara Wimberly

  “Thank you,” I managed. I don’t know why his words moved me so much. They weren’t the most romantic in the world. I didn’t expect romance, but his words reassured me he was not the cold man my father had been.

  The dress I chose was simple, a soft, silk white crepe, with a lace bodice and long lace sleeves, buttoned at the wrist. The long train was trimmed in lace, as was the veil I wore. I knew it flattered me more than a conventional gown would.

  Once dressed, I entered the courtyard to the music of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. White orchids and pink roses adorned the temporary altar. Pink and white crepe swags, intertwined with the same flowers, were draped along the chairs at the end of the row so it made an aisle of sorts for me.

  Ian was the first person I saw when I walked down the stairs and into the courtyard. At first he looked a bit bored, but when he turned and saw me, his entire face changed. His gaze told me I was beautiful, and for a moment I felt as if we were the only two people in the world. We had formed a kind of pact when he said he and I would make the best of it. Not just the wedding, but our lives together. I hadn’t thought it possible to actually feel happy at this wedding until the soft twinge in my heart told me I was.

  Edna was my matron of honor. She looked sweet and demure in a gown of pink, styled simply like my wedding dress. I had not invited anyone from my past to the wedding. Not that I had many friends. My father had seen to that.

  Besides, if this was to be my destiny, I meant to make the most of it and I couldn’t think of a better way to do that than by starting my life anew.

  James stood beside his brother. He was quiet and always gave the appearance of a gentle, easygoing person. So different than Ian. I thought how suited he and Edna were to each other.

  When I reached Ian, I put my hand into the crook of his arm. He felt solid and steady and I leaned against him. His arm tightened as if he knew exactly how I felt.

  I hardly remember the ceremony— just the smell of the orchids and roses and the feel of Ian, strong and masculine by my side. When Father Robertson pronounced us man and wife, Ian and I turned to one another. He bent his head to kiss me and I moved against him, wanting his kiss, wanting his arms around me. My heart was pounding when I stepped back and looked into his surprised eyes. The air between us was charged with tension. I remember Mrs. Fitzgerald beaming at us when we turned to walk back toward the house. She looked absolutely giddy. Her enthusiasm couldn’t be that she was thrilled by Ian’s choice of a bride since she hardly knew me. And yet she seemed pleased.

  Just as we reached the steps leading up to the foyer, a bright streak of lightning ripped through the air above us, followed immediately by a loud crack of thunder. Ian hurried me up the steps while the others behind us screamed and ran to the shelter of the house. The glass doors to the courtyard were immediately closed as rain began to pour down.

  I glanced toward two maids standing near the stairs, waiting to point the way to the wedding luncheon to the guests. They had their heads together in an animated conversation. When they turned they looked straight at me, their eyes wide with speculation.

  A sudden chill raced down my back and for the first time I felt the odd reality of being at Marshbay for the rest of my life— a place not so warm and welcoming as I once thought. It was almost a sense of foreboding.

  “Are you all right?” Ian asked, looking down at me.

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Lies…lies. Don’t believe the lies.”

  A woman’s voice, whispered and menacing, seemed to come from everywhere. From the storm, from behind us in the courtyard, even from within myself.

  Edna was behind me and I turned to her.

  “Did you say something?” I asked. “Or did you hear anything?”

  “Hear what?” she asked, smiling. “One can hardly hear anything for the storm.”

  “I don’t know…I thought someone said something.”

  “Let’s go in,” she said.

  No one else seemed alarmed or indeed acted as if they’d heard anything. I convinced myself it was only nerves and my imagination.

  In a daze I allowed myself to be led into the dining room. It was beautifully decorated and the food was plentiful and splendidly arranged. Yet for me the scene held a strangely ethereal quality. There was beauty and celebration in the midst of a terrible storm.

  Only a few moments ago I felt hopeful, even romantic. But now I felt a sudden unreasonable terror. Had I really heard a voice? And if so, why hadn’t anyone else heard it? I was married to a wealthy, handsome man, coming to live in a place I’d once admired. I’d actually be with people I once envied. Yet all I felt was a quiet desperation.

  I wanted to run, to escape this place and everyone’s speculative gaze at us. I wanted to be in the familiar warmth and safety of my own home. But I’d made a bargain. Ian had promised we’d get through this together. I kept reminding myself of that.

  Chapter Six

  Somehow I managed to calm myself and greet the guests. There were many toasts as everyone lingered through a dinner with several courses. By the end I grew anxious and began feeling a little ill. My head pounded, probably from the Champagne I was not used to.

  “Is something wrong? Shall I take you to your room?” Ian asked.

  “I think I’m just tired,” I said, relieved that he’d noticed. “Would it be terribly rude if we leave now?

  “They will only think we’re impatient to be alone.” His eyes twinkled as if he wanted to tease me out of my nervousness.

  Before I could answer him he stood up to speak.

  “Friends…family,” he said, lifting a crystal flute of pale sparkling Champagne. “On behalf of myself and my beautiful bride,” he paused and glanced at me. “I thank you all for coming and for helping us celebrate this memorable occasion.”

  Thunder crashed and we heard the wind whipped rain slashing across the windows. Candles flickered about the room.

  “Please,” he continued. “Stay as long as you wish— I hope none of you will try to travel in this weather. We have plenty of room if any of you wish to stay the night. In the meantime I hope you will excuse Isabella and myself.”

  There were a few quiet cheers and raised glasses. People laughed and looked at us with curiosity and indulgence. We rose to go and they turned quickly back to their conversations and food.

  Mrs. Fitzgerald reached out and touched us as we passed.

  “Good night, my darlings,” she said. “Rest well.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  As we walked down the long hallway I felt dizzy. I lifted my hand to my head, my feet unsteady.

  Ian caught me to him, holding me against his side to steady me. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking at me with concern.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Probably too much Champagne.”

  “You hardly ate anything at dinner. Would you like something brought to your room? Perhaps now that all the excitement is over you might be able to eat a little.”

  “That’s very thoughtful, but I don’t think so. I just need some rest.”

  “I’m sorry. I know this has all been very stressful for you, not to mention you’re still grieving for your mother.”

  He stopped and opened a door and stood aside for me to enter.

  “This is your room. I hope you like it.”

  It was a stunning room. Mrs. Fitzgerald had used two of my favorite colors of blue and yellow. The walls were covered in blue silk, the same blue reflected in the cream and white coverlet on the four-poster bed. Large fluffy pillows of blue, cream and yellow looked cozy and inviting. My dressing table and oval mirror was cream-colored with gold trim and looked to have a French influence. A soft oval cream rug with blue and yellow flowers sank beneath my feet.

  “Oh, my,” I said. “I think it’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m glad you like it. Mother will be pleased.”

  “I’ll be sure and thank her tomorrow.”

 
He walked to the left of the room and opened a door. I could see another bedroom, a darker, more masculine room.

  “We have separate rooms?”

  “We have adjoining rooms,” he said. “I didn’t want to cause you any anxiety about tonight. I want what is between us to progress slowly and naturally. I have my own entrance to the hallway and I promise I won’t intrude upon your privacy. But call me if you need anything. And there’s a bell pull beside your bed for the servants.”

  Suddenly neither of us had anything else to say. An awkward silence hung in the air between us.

  “Ian,” I said. “Thank you…for everything. You’ve been so kind to me and I…I…” My eyes began to fill with tears. No man had ever been so gentle with me and I found I couldn’t continue.

  “Isabella,” he whispered. He stepped to me and took me in his arms letting me cry against his chest. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. Everything is fine. We will become better acquainted and I promise you we will have a good life together.”

  I looked up into his eyes, so tender and sweet.

  “I want to believe that…” I said wiping the tears from my eyes. “I do.”

  “Good,” he said.

  He brushed his lips against mine, then with a soft groan he drew me closer, kissing me passionately. When he pulled away I felt his reluctance to do so. I knew he didn’t want to go— one word from me and he would stay. But I knew he was right. We would let it progress slowly and naturally.

  “Well,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ll let you rest. I know you have a headache.”

  I nodded, not moving farther into the room until he went through the adjoining door and closed it behind him. Then I was alone in my beautiful wedding gown, in a strange house and strange bedroom. There was a man I hardly knew just beyond the doorway. I could still feel the touch of his mouth against mine and I’d wanted him to stay. Despite my terrible headache, I felt almost giddy with hope.

  I desperately needed to lie down and to feel the coolness of the pillows beneath my head, to have complete quiet. I couldn’t even bother to undress, but wrapped the train of the dress around me and lay down on the bed. I thought I’d only lie there for a few moments. Only a few candles were lit and I could hear the wind howling around the windows. The storm had moved on, leaving only the wind and the pattering of rain against the glass panes. It lulled and soothed me into sleep.

  I wasn’t sure what woke me and I had no idea what time it was. The candles had burned out and the room was completely dark.

  I felt frightened waking in a dark unfamiliar, place alone. I could feel something was wrong. Someone was in my room, watching me. Filled with terror, I must have gasped.

  Then I heard the sound of breathing, a horrible, frightening sound in the still darkness. Like an animal hidden in the marsh. Watching…waiting.

  “Ian?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Is that you?” But I knew it couldn’t be.

  When I heard rustling by the door, I screamed and sat up in bed. I reached blindly to the table beside the bed, hoping to find a candle or a lamp. Instead I knocked over objects that thudded to the floor.

  “Answer me!” I cried. “I know someone is in here.”

  “Leave this place. Leave now before it’s too late.” The whisper came from across the room near the hallway door.

  “I won’t let you scare me away.” I hoped my voice sounded more confident than I felt. My body trembled and my heart pounded furiously.

  Completely forgetting I still wore my wedding dress, I swung my legs over the bed. The train was still wrapped around me and as I tried to stand my legs entangled in the material and I fell to the floor.

  Ian’s door opened and I could see him in the light he carried.

  I saw a dim light at my door leading into the hallway. I could also see the person who’d been in my room ease out the hall door. Then I heard footsteps running down the hall.

  “Isabella,” Ian said. “Where are you?”

  “Here by the bed,” I said. “I tripped over my skirt.”

  He came to me quickly and sat the light on the bedside table. He went down on one knee and reached for me. When his hands drew me to him, I marveled at how strong and reassuring they felt. His hands touched my face and I felt his kiss against my forehead.

  “Are you hurt? Can you stand?”

  “I’m fine, just a little stunned.”

  “Here, let me help you up. What happened? Did you have a bad dream?”

  “There was someone in my room,” I said.

  Feeling as though my legs might not hold me up, I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him retrieve his candle from the nightstand and begin lighting lamps around the room. He didn’t seem alarmed at what I’d said, as if it was normal at Marshbay for people to wander around the house at night invading rooms.

  “Didn’t you see?” I asked. “When you came in, someone left by the hall door. You must have seen them.”

  “No, I didn’t see anyone, but the candle might have blinded me.” He blew out the candle he held. “Perhaps you were dreaming.”

  “It wasn’t a dream,” I insisted. “There was someone in my room. He or she spoke to me. Warned me or threatened me; I’m not sure which.”

  “Are you sure, Isabella?”

  I stood to confront him. “You don’t believe me. Whoever was here said I should leave this place before it was too late. ”

  “I didn’t hear a thing. Maybe the wind…” He reached out as if to comfort me again and I pulled away. “Don’t be angry,” he said. “I don’t think you’re lying or hysterical. I know you really believe you saw someone and heard someone.”

  “I did! I’m not crazy or imagining things.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said. “You’re upset. You need to get out of that dress and into a nightgown. No wonder you didn’t sleep well. I’m going to ring for someone to bring you a warm drink.” He moved toward the servant’s bell, pausing when someone knocked at my door.

  We looked at each for a moment and I know he saw fear in my eyes, but he opened the door.

  Edna stood in the hall, gazing past Ian toward me. If she was surprised to see us awake and me still in my wedding dress, she didn’t show it.

  “Is anything wrong?” she asked. “I thought I heard a scream.”

  “Isabella had a fright. Could you do us a favor and ask someone to bring up a cup of warm milk or cocoa? ”

  “Of course,” she said, backing away from the door. “I’ll do it myself.”

  I was a little surprised that he’d sent Edna away instead of asking her to help me undress, but then I realized he had no problem doing that himself.

  The intensity in his gaze made it impossible for me to look away. I stood silently, waiting. He turned me around so he could unfasten the long row of buttons on my dress. His fingers were warm, his touch light, but I shivered just the same. Not from fright or chill, but from an emotion I didn’t recognize. In moments the buttons were undone and he turned me around to face him, reaching down to the buttons that held the lacy sleeves closed.

  “You don’t have to. I can do the rest.”

  “Be quiet,” he told me, his voice quiet and sensual.

  Once the sleeves were unfastened, he turned me around again, pushing the back of my dress open and quickly untying the ribbons on the tight corset.

  I gasped at the feel of his hands against my naked skin and at his closeness. So close I could feel his breath against my hair. When the corset loosened I felt such relief, I sighed.

  “That’s good,” he murmured. “Just breathe. Where’s your nightgown?”

  I held my dress against me to keep it from slipping to the floor. “On the chair where the maid left it for me.”

  He retrieved the gown and returned, I wasn’t sure what he intended to do, but I clung tightly to my dress. Laying the gown on the bed, he reached behind my neck and removed my necklace, smiling as he looked down into my eyes. Then to my mixed relief and disappointment, he eased the n
ightgown over my head and shoulders, letting it fall over my wedding dress.

  “Shall I leave while you step out of your dress?” he asked

  He was teasing me.

  “Just turn around,” I said.

  He turned slowly, crossing his arms over his chest, his head tilted to the side. I decided I could see amusement in the set of his shoulders.

  I wiggled out of the voluminous dress and then the corset, quickly put my arms in the nightgown and stepped out of the puddle of silk and lace on the floor.

  “You can turn around now.” I gathered up the dress in my arms and he came, took the garments from me and deposited them on a chair.

  He then turned down the covers of the bed, waving his arm in a motion for me to sit.

  “What time is it?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed.

  He glanced out the window. “Nearing sunrise I think. Can’t tell for the fog. Don’t you have a clock in here somewhere? Ah, yes.” He reached down and gathered the items I’d accidentally raked off the bed stand. He held a small ornate clock to his ear before looking at its face and setting it back on the nightstand. “A bit after five.”

  Someone knocked at the door. Without waiting for an answer, Edna pushed it open and entered with a small tray that held cups and a white carafe.

  “I brought enough for you too, Ian,” she said.

  “Thank you for doing this.”

  “Is everything all right?” she asked. I saw her eyes wander over my nightgown and then glance at the chair that held my wedding dress.

  “I’m fine, really. Thank you so much.”

  “Sorry we woke you,” Ian told her. “Go back to bed. It’s still early.”

  “But, the chocolate…” she began.

  “I’ll take care of it.” He put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the door. “You go. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She seemed reluctant. But frankly I was glad Ian rushed her out because I didn’t want to talk or answer any questions. I needed to think about what had happened. Could I have dreamed it after all? In retrospect it did seem quite unbelievable.

  Ian poured the steaming chocolate into two cups and set the tray aside. He handed me a cup, then sat on the bed beside me.