by Lenore, Lani
“There is no other man,” she told him, and he believed she meant it.
If he’d had his way, even if it was only out of frustration, he would have lifted her skirts and had her right there on the bank, but his thoughts were broken soon enough.
Hearing a disturbance in the form of a large splash, the two of them looked up to hear a small cry as Charlotte lost her balance and fell backwards into the water. Her dress was now wet, the liquid soaking through her petticoats, and her face held a mortified expression.
Christian smiled through his bad mood, forgetting about Isabella. He waited a moment for his arousal to fade and then went over to help the fallen girl.
“That was very clumsy of you, dear sister,” Isabella said with a scowl, angry that her moment had been interrupted.
“Shut-it, you mule!” Charlotte screamed and took Christian’s arm to be pulled up.
“Perhaps you should be getting back home,” said Christian. “You wouldn’t want to catch a cold now that you’re soaking wet. The autumn chill isn’t good for you.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Isabella jealously. “She hardly ever gets sick.”
“I insist,” said Christian, to spite her. “In fact, I’ll see her home myself.”
Isabella boiled with anger, but remained calm. Christian was pulling her along. If that was what he wanted, that was what he would have – for now. Though this picnic was over, there was still time for careful planning. Isabella would win this at all cost. He would come to her tonight; there was no doubt in her mind about that. She would show him how much she loved him.
Chapter Four
1
Rain came down heavily that night upon the roof of the Madison manor. A fire was going in the main parlor and all four of the house’s occupants were gathered there. Anna braided her long, graying hair while Isabella trimmed her nails and Charlotte sat on the posh red sofa reading a love story. The parlor at least was kept intact and all the best furniture resided within. This was just in case someone did have to venture inside; they would not be appalled by the poverty within.
Cindy sat by herself in a corner, mending Charlotte’s dress. The girl had stepped on the train and ripped the wet material when Christian had helped her from the water. Though Charlotte had been escorted home by the man in his carriage, she had felt the heat of embarrassment the whole time. Ladies were not supposed to be clumsy.
“This was the most embarrassing day of my life!” Charlotte declared, closing her book in disgust.
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t show your face at the party tomorrow. You wouldn’t want Christian laughing at you,” Isabella said as the rain pounded against the glass behind her.
“He would never laugh at me, you stupid girl!” said Charlotte angrily. “Besides, he’s promised me that I will be the one.”
Isabella looked up in anger. “Like hell you are, pig!” she screeched.
“Girls, please!” their mother chimed in. “You mustn’t practice these habits of speech and manner. In good time, it will all be revealed. How many times must I tell you that it doesn’t matter which one of you it is? Sure, Christian is an attractive young man, but it isn’t as though either of you truly love him. Quite honestly, you shouldn’t fight like you do.”
Both girls fell silent at this, accepting their mother’s words. It was true that Charlotte was only in the game for her mother’s approval and because Christian was quite handsome. Isabella, however, had a different reason, and had neglected to tell her mother of her true feelings.
Isabella had been in love with Christian Charming ever since she had seen him four years ago at his brother’s birthday celebration. She had only been sixteen, but had been the loveliest girl there. She had danced with his brother and he had been pleased with her. It seemed she would get his proposal, but soon after, she had seen Christian. He had been standing against the wall - pale, tall, and broad-shouldered, scowling lightly with the most wonderfully chiseled features.
Though she had been chosen first, she declined the proposal of his brother, only to have a chance with the younger Charming. Her mother had been upset, but Isabella had simply explained that she had not been the one, and that there was still another brother she would try for. Her mother had been content at this, telling her to make sure she kept this one.
Isabella was content, yet after today’s events, she felt closer to her goal. She had considered her afternoon for the rest of the day. She remembered the feel of him. There had been desire in his eyes, even if there was nothing else. He would come to her bed tonight, and she would convince Christian that he needed her. Yes, everything was going accordingly.
Everything in the room came to a sudden halt when a sharp pounding resounded at the front door. All four of them glanced up to look toward the entrance, but all were too shocked to move at all. The sound of rain grew louder in their ears.
“Who could that be at this hour?” wondered Anna aloud.
“And in this storm!” added Charlotte, setting down her book.
Anna snapped back to herself after a moment and looked over to Cindy, who was paused, needle in hand, staring at the door.
“Don’t just sit there, girl,” scolded Anna. “See who it is!”
Cindy draped the dress over the arm of the chair and rose, taking small, hesitant steps to the door. Who would be there when she opened it? She was in deep dread. The only reason she could think of for someone coming to the house so late and in this storm was that something terrible had happened. Though she feared this, she was unsure of what exactly could have come about that was so terrible.
Reaching for the handle, she pulled the heavy door open and lightning bolted through the sky. Before her was a figure in a long cloak hidden in the darkness, only to come into shape when lightning illuminated the heavens. Cindy could only stare out, feeling a strong presence there. Anna grew tired of waiting.
“Cindy! Welcome them inside!”
“Please step inside,” Cindy bade, allowing the figure to enter, though feeling a creeping chill when the stranger moved past her.
“Thank you very much, dear,” said a feminine voice from under the hood.
All four women waited in anticipation for the figure to be revealed. Finally, drawing back the hood, the four found themselves looking on at a woman of an unknown age somewhere between twenty-five and forty years; it was almost impossible to tell for certain. Out from under the hood fell long, wine-colored locks and, staring out, examining them all, were two large, black eyes.
“It’s coming quite a rain out there,” the woman said, not overstepping her boundaries or leaving the door area.
Cindy pushed the door closed, not able to peel her curiosity from this mysterious woman. Who was she? Where had she traveled from?
“Who are you?” asked Isabella suddenly with skepticism.
“Oh!” the woman cried. “How rude of me! Where are my manners? My name is Amanda. Miss Amanda Jefferson.”
Amanda glanced around the room before venturing to speak again, directing her attention to Anna and ignoring the stares of her daughters.
“Could I ask you, ma’am, if I might stay the night? I have traveled a long way and the inn is full. I’ve checked. I saw the large lovely house and figured you must have rooms to spare. I would be most appreciative.”
Anna thought for a few moments about this, hesitant. She didn’t like this woman's face. Perhaps it was those large, empty eyes… But if people in town were to hear that she had turned a traveler away, it would reflect badly upon her.
Very well, she thought. One night.
“You may stay for the night,” Anna agreed.
“Might I ask respectfully, madam, if the inn is full tomorrow, that I might have one more night here?”
Anna continued to eye her suspiciously, but couldn’t find it in her to be inhospitable because of the impact it would make on the gossip circle.
“Very well, Miss Jefferson. Two nights,” the woman directed her gaze to the maid by th
e door. “Go and ready her room, Cindy. Work quickly.”
Cindy sent a last glance at the woman and then hurried upstairs to put down some clean linen in one of the more decorated rooms. The three other women stared on at Amanda carefully in concern as to who she was.
“What did you say your name was again?” asked Isabella curtly.
“Amanda Jefferson,” the woman repeated, looking around with her black eyes.
“What brings you to Greenhaven?” asked Anna conversationally.
“I have some business in town,” the woman assured her without being direct.
“What kind of business?” Charlotte demanded.
“Charlotte, don’t be rude,” scolded Anna. The young woman looked back up to Amanda with an upturned nose.
“You’ll have to excuse my daughters,” Anna apologized. “They are quite unreasonable at times.”
“That’s alright,” Amanda assured her. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
No matter how awkward it seemed, the three van Burren women could not bear to take their eyes off the mysterious woman. It was as if she would attack them if they looked away. There was indeed something unsettling about her and each of them felt it as an individual ache.
Hearing a disturbance to the side, Amanda turned her head to the hallway arch to see a large white cat sitting there, menacing at her with glowing eyes. The cat hissed once, and Amanda said nothing, only continued to peer down at it. After a moment of tail swishing, the cat obediently turned and darted away, as though it had been scolded or stricken.
“Lovely cat you have,” Amanda commented with a smile, turning her attention back to them.
“Yes,” Isabella muttered.
After what seemed like a long while, Cindy finally emerged from upstairs, to the relief of them all. She broke the awkward moment.
“Show our guest to her room,” Anna instructed hurriedly. “After you are finished you should go ready our beds – and please hurry. I’m quite tired.”
2
Cindy did as she was told, leading the strange woman up the creaky stairs. There was a heavy feeling in her stomach like lead weights, but she wasn't sure why. The presence of a stranger shouldn't have had any effect on her. This was not her house, after all. Not anymore.
Her step-mother hadn’t mentioned that she was tired before the guest had arrived, but she insisted that Cindy come straight back to prepare their beds. All she'd meant was that Cindy shouldn’t have time to talk to the woman. If she lingered too long, Anna would know that she had engaged her. It didn’t matter to Cindy. It wasn’t as though this woman could get her out of here or that she truly had anything that Cindy desired. There was no reason to have a conversation.
Cindy walked to the door of the quest room and pushed it open, revealing a rather stark room with a bed and bureau, but there was a blazing fire within, which should have been good enough for a soaked traveler.
“Here’s your room, ma’am,” she said. “Rest well.”
Amanda smiled at the servant girl with warmness.
“You are Cindy?” she asked.
A cold shock ran through her, freezing her in her tracks. Cindy looked on at the woman with a curious look. The woman began to laugh.
“What is it, dear? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!”
The maid shook her head slowly. “Strange,” she said. “Do I know you?”
“Perhaps you do,” said Amanda. “I know you, Cindy Madison.”
The girl stared back with wide eyes. How could she…?
“Tell no one of this. Tomorrow we will speak,” the woman said simply and stepped into the room, disappearing into the darkness.
Cindy closed the door after her, unsure of who the woman was, yet she'd felt much familiarity there. Cindy had felt it as soon as she opened the door to the woman. The question was: why did she feel this way?
Cindy knew no one, and no one was supposed to know she existed. What was this woman's game?
3
In the deep night after the storm had settled, Christian lit a cigarette and started to walk. He thought the night was pleasant with the cool, clean feeling of the air, even if his shoes were splashing through mud. No one had seen him leave, and no one knew where he was going. He did. He was going up the hill.
Isabella had offered herself to him, and he was going to take her – at least, that was his intention. He could never be quite certain of what he would decide once he got there, fickle as he was. Still, the thought of making her bleed and cry – of ruining her – brought him a certain sadistic pleasure. But it was also curiosity that was pulling him closer toward that house with each passing step.
He felt an old familiarity here, like coming home after a very long time, though he knew it was nothing like that. How could it have been? He’d only been up this hill a few times in his life and he had little connection with it.
Christian stood before the front stoop where he’d stood three years before, tossing his cigarette and then letting his eyes drift around the corner of the house. The path to the legendary drop-off had been planted up with shrubs as if there had never been a road there. He knew differently. The place that road had led to was where he had met -
Her.
He remembered her face even now, years later. He wondered if it had changed much. His had. He was certain hers had as well. It must have been beautiful.
The sound of a cawing bird broke his thoughts, and he looked to an eave of the house to see two large crows sitting there, staring down at him as if expecting to see what he would do. He remembered where he was then, and he remembered why he was here. He began to think warm, wet thoughts as he passed from the front stoop and toward whichever door would lead him into the kitchen.
He found the door past a small garden, and a twist of the knob revealed it to be unlocked, as she'd promised. He pushed open the silent door and let himself into the house. It was quiet and dark inside, but he found the back stairs easily enough. He passed up them and onto the second floor, squeaking only slightly every few steps.
The hallway was empty and quiet. Before him was a door that was ajar. He reached out to grip the handle.
A voice behind him stopped him.
“You shouldn’t have come here for this.”
It was only a whisper drifting past his ear, slow and distant, but it turned him around. He saw a thin figure dressed in white treading up the stairs. It was a woman, but he only saw the bottom of her gown as she vanished on the next floor.
Was it Isabella? Could she have possibly been making this fun for him? He hadn’t thought she had it in her to be creative. A smile touched his lips as a tingle of excitement ran through him. He followed the woman quietly up the stairs.
Christian followed past the third floor to get to the forth – the loft space – and when he stepped off the stairs, he found that there was only one room here. He saw the woman dressed in white walk slowly away from him and into the room, but he knew now that it was not Isabella. The woman he saw had long, black hair trailing down her back.
He felt his heart thump twice, very hard within his chest. Was it possible? Could it have been Cindy? The only girl he had ever missed? The only one who’d ever plagued his thoughts? But, they said she had gone away, that she had married off!
He moved to the room and stepped inside, looking over the small space with the slanted ceiling from the roof of the house. Leaks in it had been patched, but there were still a few drips that had fallen in from the heavier rain. There was a lantern on a table beside an old bed.
The young woman was not there.
Christian was confused. Where had she gone?
He took careful steps across the room, moving toward something he saw resting on the table beside the lantern. It was an old picture, and when he lifted it up, he saw a familiar face. Cindy. Several years younger and with her father alone, but he still knew her.
He thought about her face again, as he had seen it that one time - about her lips that hardly smiled. She m
ust have still been dwelling in this house, no matter what they had claimed. Knowing that, he couldn’t go through with what he’d truly come here for. He’d had every intention of relieving himself within Isabella, and yet he had lost all desire now.
For a moment, he felt like waiting here to see if the girl would come back, for he would greatly enjoy seeing her again, but it felt wrong of him to do. She obviously wanted to be left alone, and that idea came on stronger by his remembrance that the entire town thought she was no longer even in the state.
Christian nodded to himself, setting the picture back down on the table. He turned to go, walking straight back out through the kitchen without disturbing Isabella. A shuffling sound in the hallway caught his attention.
He turned his head, not feeling frightened, but curious. Had she come back after all? He decided to let her name pass his lips, though it only emitted as a faint whisper.
“Cindy?” he asked, seeing the breath of those words appear before him in the chill of the room.
For a moment, there were no more sounds, and then a soft voice came back to him as if coming out of the air itself.
“Christian?”
The young man moved out into the hall, surprised to feel his heart flutter at the prospect of seeing her, but when he reached the door of the room and stepped out, he saw that there was no one there. Christian’s mouth suddenly felt dry. His fingers felt numb.
He went home.
4
Sitting by herself in the fog, Cindy was on her knees in the mud at the spot where her mother had been buried beneath a hazel tree behind the house. The girl hadn’t been able to sleep, constantly awakened by her dreams, and so she’d done the only thing she’d known to do. She’d gone to her mother. Her father was too far away now.
“I’ve been dreaming about you again,” she said to the earth. “Yes, still the same as it was before with the roses. I still don’t know what it means.”
Amelia Madison did not reply back to her daughter, but a chorus of frogs and crickets sang to her in the gentle breeze of the night.