A Heart Possessed

by Katherine Sutcliffe

  A strange disturbance overtook me, that same feeling of expectation that I had experienced before. Drawn toward my bedroom door, I unlocked it and stepped into the hallway. All was still. A single candle burned steadily at the end of the corridor. Finding some courage in the light, I walked down the hall to my lord's door. Cautiously I turned the knob. The door opened, creaking very lightly in the quiet.

  Again I looked back down the hall, checked the burning candle, then entered my lord's darkened chamber. Silently 1 moved across the room and eased back the drapes, allowing a sparse light to spill over the floor. Then I approached the bed.

  He slept. I heard his breath coming unevenly and deep. I touched his brow, and found it damp, then saw the bottle of sherry on his bedside table. I picked it up.

  A movement caught my eye and I turned toward the door. As I watched it slowly close, the sense of some presence overtook me again, chilling me until I grew weak and trembling. Replacing the sherry on the table, I moved again to the bed, reached out for Nicholas, and shook him.

  No response.

  "My lord," I whispered, and shook him again. "My lord, wake up." He slept.

  "Nicholas." Please, please, wake up! I shook him yet again, saying aloud, "Malham, if you please . . . ?"

  When he did not move, a new fear overtook me. I took his shoulders in my hands and called his name over and over, my foolish terror of the dark choking me nearly soundless. I could not wake him and, cursing the sherry, I backed away into the corner, my eyes searching out the shadows while my mind battled with silly superstition.

  Finally forcing myself to move, I walked slowly to the door, opened it slightly, and peered into the hall. I did not notice until I stepped into the corridor that the candle on the distant table was no longer burning. I continued down the hall, my eyes searching every shadow until I came to my room. My door was closed and I vividly remembered leaving it open. I glanced at the knob and took a breath. Reaching for the doorknob, I turned it as quietly as possible. My candle, too, had been extinguished. The room lay in total blackness. Cautiously I continued, moving to the dresser, my senses attuned to any sight or sound or ... presence. Running my hands over the dresser top, I located flint and candle, then fumbled with them, striking and striking until my fingers became raw with the effort. At last the flame sputtered and danced. I grabbed up the candle and lifted it before me toward every corner, every shadow, the window, my bed, under my bed. Nothing. I flung the door open again and stepped into the corridor. Nothing.

  Finally I returned to my chamber to climb into bed. For the entire night I listened to the wind chant outside my window, and I prayed for an early dawn.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning at ten I stood in the Great Hall JL wondering why I had been summoned here. Perhaps Nicholas had experienced another one of his spells. Recalling his apparent state of unconsciousness the night before, I would not have been surprised.

  I had spent those many sleepless hours considering my lord's illness. More and more his lethargy and confusion reminded me of certain patients at Oaks. One thing was for certain: He was hallucinating. Hallucinations were not uncommon among the mentally disturbed at Oaks, but such symptoms did not normally show up except in the very advanced stages of mental collapse. "Ahhhhh!"

  Hearing the high-pitched shriek, I felt the blood drain from my face. I spun around in time to see Kevin run by the door. He let loose another wail that vibrated the craquelle goblet on the table against the wall.

  "Bloody hell, is it a wonder I'm a lunatic?" Nicholas, in his long-legged stride, bypassed me on his way to grab Kevin. As he swept the child up and tossed him across his shoulder, he turned again to me, laughing. "I wager half the souls in Saint Mary's were put there by children."

  "It's like music to my ear," I replied. I laughed myself as Nicholas suspended Kevin upside down by his feet. "Here now," I scolded gently, "the blood will rush to his head and make him dizzy!"

  "Like father, like son."

  I shook my head in exasperation and went for the lad, taking him up in my arms. Turning my back on his grinning father, I returned to the Great Hall and sat down by the hearth. "I take it Bea is napping again," I said.

  "Her day away," Nick replied. Stopping at an ornate vase stand that held a decanter of sherry, he poured himself a drink before turning to face us again. He was still smiling.

  "Unusual," I said.

  Nick looked down his person and said, "I am?"

  "I meant the stand. It is rather ..."

  "Vulgar?"

  I bit my lower lip and smoothed Kevin's hair. "Unusual. But it is very pretty wood."

  He turned to eye the furniture. "Walnut and ebony sculptured by Andrea Brustolon sometime in the seventeenth century. I'm certain you can appreciate the fine detail used on the chained negroes. And of course you recognize the river gods Charon, Cerberus and Hydra?"

  "Certainly."

  "I thought the old man, bearded to his genitals, looked like he could use a drink. So I replaced Jane's Sevres potpourri vase with my sherry decanter. He hasn't stopped smiling since."

  "And of course Lady Malham was all for the idea?"

  "Certainly. She was a jolly good sport about it all."

  We laughed together.

  Nicholas took a chair across from me and sipped his drink while I wrapped my arms around my son and hugged him to my breast. This was joy, heaven in its most sublime. To freely cuddle my child was a dream that had often brought me as much misery as hope.

  I looked back at Nicholas. He watched me with a faint hint of curiosity, and something else, an emotion that was too fragile to name. In that instant I half expected him to leave his chair and touch me.

  "I asked you here for a reason/* he said. "I'm taking Kevin out. We would like you to come/* As I hesitated, he added, "I thought I would take my paints. There is a rise above the cove that would make a perfect setting . . . I've been meaning to capture my son's likeness on canvas, but that may take some doing unless he's asleep. Perhaps if you held him . . . The day is clear and warmer and—"

  "I would be honored, sir," I replied. In one fluid motion he stood, moved across the room, and lifted a garment from the back of a chair. Facing me, he opened it wide and said, "This should keep you warmer."

  I eyed the fur-lined cloak speculatively. "It may be a bit large but it will provide more warmth than that pitiful wrap you wore last evening. Come here and try it on."

  I lowered Kevin to the floor and approached him slowly. "Sir, it is much too grand."

  "Nonsense. It is doing little good for anyone locked away in a trunk," "It was your wife's?"

  "Mother's. But she never wore it. Not once. In fact, it arrived from London long after her death. I'd like you to have it."

  "Have it? Oh, no, sir, I could never accept it. It's much too beautiful. It wouldn't be proper." Guilt consumed me as I noted the disappointment in Wyndham's eyes. He approached me nevertheless and placed the wrap about my shoulders. Then he turned me around.

  "It suits you, you know. If you won't accept it as a token of my appreciation, then consider it loaned to you as long as you live here." As he pulled it closed beneath my chin, the fur collar framed my face in softness. Nick's hands lingered along my jaw. His look of yearning so bewitched me I could find no strength to speak. Finally he pulled away and said, "Be ready on the hour, Miss Rushdon."

  "I look forward to it, my lord."

  We spent the day on the Cove overlooking the common fields of Malham East. Nicholas painted while Kevin squirmed in my lap. And the following week, we picnicked in a little cave in Grey Gill behind Cawden, allowing Kevin to splash his hands in the bracingly cool waters from the Tarn Watersinks. I took profound pleasure in my son's squeals of delight. And Nick's carefree laughter filled me with happiness and hope, for his mind seemed to grow sharper every day. Rarely did he find the need to reach for sherry. Here was no madman, I thought, no sick fiend, but a gentle, loving man who wanted nothing more than to sample the simple
pleasures of living. Here was the man who had once run with me hand in hand across the moor, who had lain with me in fields of heather and made love to me with gentle words and tender caresses. I remembered the fire of desire in his eyes, then, and I recognized that look again. He wanted me. And I knew it was only a matter of time before he came to claim me.

  Inclement weather returned with a vengeance, as howling winds and roiling snow clouds forced us all to remain indoors. Nicholas once again became more reclusive, venturing into the bosom of his home and family only upon occasion. And then it was only to fetch more sherry.

  One evening, on my way to the kitchen after having put Kevin to bed, I overheard my lord speaking with his brother in Trevor's office. Curiosity compelled me to linger in the dark hallway and listen.

  "Where were you last eventide, Nick? You were to meet me for cards at ten."

  Silence.

  "Did you forget?" Trevor asked him.

  My heart quickened as I awaited the response. For the last week Nicholas had taken such pride in the fact that his memory had not failed him.

  "Well? I waited in the Hall until half past."

  The response finally came. "In truth, Trevor, I was feeling inordinately tired. I took to my bed to sleep."

  "Sleep? Come, Nick, just admit you were tipping up with Jim. I came to your room when you didn't show and knocked on your door. When I got no response I went in and found the room unoccupied."

  "Unoccupied." It wasn't a question. "This was at what time?"

  "Half past ten."

  I delayed no longer and hurried from the room. Finding Tilly hard at work on Adrienne's favorite haver-bread, I sat in a chair before the fire and watched intently as she kneaded the dough and prepared to bake it on the oven backstone.

  "Tilly," I finally said, "were you about last eventide?"

  Her round cheeks glowing from exertion in the overly warm room, she smiled and mopped her brow with her dress sleeve. "Aye, lass, I were here until midnight. Miss Adrienne got a sudden cravin' for Sol-et-lunes and I was turnin' 'em out 'bout then. By the time I took 'em to 'er she were asleep."

  "I turned in early myself," I said. "Tell me, did you see his lordship last evening?"

  Her hands stopped her rhythmic punching and rolling as she collected her thoughts. " 'e were with Master Kevin until nine. Aye. Then he sipped a few sherries with Miss Adrienne. That's it. I heard 'em talkin' about 'er goin' t' France. She mentioned somethin' about your goin' too, come t' think on it."

  "Oh? And what did Lord Malham respond?" "Well . . . t' tell y' the truth, luv, 'e weren't happy about it. They got into a real tiff, come t' think on it. O' course they normally do these days. Miss Adrienne, as you're aware, is keen on speakin' 'er mind to his lordship. Then somehow the conversation came back to his wreckin' 'er chances of marriage, 'e come burstin' out of the room lookin' black as a thundercloud and carryin' 'is sherry. Said 'e was turnin' in and didn't want to be disturbed."

  "Did he go directly to his room?" "I got no way of knowin', lass, 'e took to the backstairs two at a time and I didn't see 'im again till mornin'."

  "And how did he seem this morning?" "Poorly. Though 'e perked up when y' come round, I vow." Passing me a pleasant smile, she teased, " 'e's sweet on y', miss. We've all seen it. 'e's been a different man since I’ve been 'ere. More like 'is old self . . . the way 'e were before Jane come."

  I tried to ignore the skip in my heartbeat, but my blush gave me away. Tilly only giggled and returned to her haverbread as I excused myself and withdrew from the room. I went directly to the Great Hall where I found Adrienne just restopping the sherry decanter. At my greeting she jumped and spun to face me.

  "You startled me to death, Ariel." Her smile quivered as she took a breath.

  I glanced down at the generous glass of sherry on the table. "Is that drink for you?"

  "No," she said, "I can't abide sherry. It troubles my sleep and leaves me with a wretched headache. No, I was just about to take my brother a peace offering. We had words last night and—"

  "I know."

  Her smile faltered. "He's been complaining about his head this evening. He asked Kate to fetch him the decanter but I thought that excessive after last night."

  "I'm on my way to my quarters," I told her. "Shall I take it to him?"

  A long moment passed before she responded. "Oh. Oh well." She glanced at the drink. "Certainly, I suppose that would be fine." She lifted the glass to me with shaking hands, sloshing the sherry onto her fingers.

  Taking the drink, I looked her in the eye and said, "Good eventide, my lady," then left her staring after me.

  I took the stairs carefully. Having made my way through the cold, dark corridors to Nicholas's room, I stood for some time in the shadows, recalling Adrienne's obvious nervousness at being found with the sherry. With growing suspicion I stared down at the glass and listened to Nicholas pace behind his closed door. Then lifting the glass up in the darkness, I said, "Mayhaps you'll have pleasant dreams tonight, my lord." Turning the glass up to my mouth, I drank the sherry down.

  Bang! . . . Bang! . . . Bang!

  That awful sound! "Go away!" I cried. "Please, please, go away!"

  Bang! . . . Bang! . . . Bang!

  I sat upright in bed. The suffocating darkness gripped my mind so painfully I wanted to scream.

  "Ariel! Ariel, are you in there? For God's sake, will you answer me? Dammit, Ariel, are you there?" Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . . "Ariel, open the door!"

  Rolling to my knees, I pressed my back to the wall and covered my ears. "Go away! Leave my alone! I'm not a whore! I'm not! Stop calling me that!"

  "Ariel, it's Nick," came the calm voice. "Please, love, open the door."

  Nick? the word broke my heart. "I don't believe you." I sobbed. "Nick hasn't come for me. You're lying. You're lying! You've lied before. He hasn't come. He hasn't!"

  "Open the door, Ariel. The door. I promise you it's Nick. Open the door and see for yourself."

  Pressing my hands to my breast, I stared at the door. My body shook with cold, yet oddly my flesh was slick with sweat. Cautiously I slid from the bed and moved to the door. I closed my eyes and fought the nightmare that refused to relinquish its hold on me. I was back at Oaks, that wretched hole where strangers stared at me through bars in the wall, where they called me whore and said the child inside me was the devil's spawn. I had sinned and would suffer in this hell until I died, they said. Oh God, help me!

  "Open the door so I can help you."

  "I—I can't. It's locked!"

  "Get the key, love."

  I backed to the dresser and ran my hand across it. Then, key in hand, I moved woodenly to the door and fumbled with the lock before stepping away. Closing my fingers about my throat, I strained to see through the darkness. They had done this before—the insane ones—they had told me Nicholas had come to rescue me from this suffering.

  The door swung open. He stepped through the shadows, his eyes hard and gray and blazing with the same fire he held in his hands. With a strangled cry I collapsed on the floor.

  I became vaguely aware of being carried in my lord's arms through the hallway, into his room, and, once there, into his bed. His large, warm hands cupped my face and his thumbs lightly brushed the tears from my cheeks. Sitting down beside me, he smiled into my eyes and asked, "Are you awake now?"

  I nodded.

  "Look how you're shivering. You're wet through. Are you ill? Hurt?"

  "No, my lord."

  Raking a hand through his unruly hair, he looked away. "You frightened the devil out me when you cried out. Then I couldn't get into the bloody room ..." He stared at the floor. "Perhaps we should reconsider locking it ... or make some other arrangements ..."

  "There were dreams, awful dreams. I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

  "Hush." He tipped up my chin. "I understand dreams, Ariel. I know what they can do to you."

  Shakily I attempted to sit up.

  He seized my shoulders. His hands w
ere warm and gentle against my skin, and I shivered. He began talking in a soft murmur.

  I watched drowsily as he formed the words, noted the sudden flash of white teeth as he smiled. I saw his grim, gray eyes as they shifted to my shoulder where the thin strap of my tattered shift drooped. His gaze wandered, lower and lower still, over the frail material where my breasts shimmered damply and the gown clung to their rosy crests that rose and fell rapidly with the force of my breathing.

  Lifting his hand, he trailed one finger down the coiling black tendril of hair that lay against my breast. The tentative gesture was as arousing and frightening to him as it was to me. I felt desire in his sharp exhalation of breath against my face. I saw it in the narrowing of his eyes and in the sudden tightness of his throat.

  Timidly I lifted my hand and laid it flat against his chest. The fine lawn shirt grew damp beneath my palm. The beat of his heart vibrated against my fingers.

  "Sweet innocent," came his words, warm and deep against my temple. "Look at me."

  Basking in his presence, I turned my face up to his. Lifting his hand, he laid it tenderly against my cheek and I thought, Was this the sort of man who would— could—hurt another? Never!

  He said gently, "What is it about these features that causes me to yearn, even in my weary state, to fetch brush and paint from yonder room and capture their likeness on linen? And yet when I do, I cannot grasp them even long enough to place them on canvas."

  I drew in a long breath. "I cannot say, milord."

  He skimmed my lower lip with the pad of his thumb, very slowly. Time stopped, as it had that spring morning on the moor when we'd shared our first kiss. Our breath mingled as he brushed his lips against my cheek.

  Sweet, sweet innocent," he murmured in my ear. 'Would you let me love you, knowing what I am?"

  'And you are?" I looked up into his eyes.

  Me lifted one brow and said, "Mad."