A Light Amongst Shadows

by Kelley York

  I notice, then, as the girls’ headmistress moves to the front of the room, that she’s accompanied by our own headmaster. My friends have found me amongst the crowd, Benjamin and Preston flanking my left while Edwin lingers just behind. Mr. King speaks in his strong, commanding voice that brings everyone’s conversations to a halt and their attention to him. But as he announces and introduces himself and then headmistress Vivienne, I’m busy scanning the room for any sign of Oscar. If the headmaster is here, then he should be, too, right?

  After the introductions, King gives us leave to enjoy our evening. Boys all around me fidget and linger, awkward with the situation they’ve been thrown into, but several break from the herd and gladly cross the room to begin their night of socialising, eager to have their first pick of dance partners. Among them are most of my companions; I spot Benjamin trotting through the crowd, shyly approaching a young woman and greeting her with a sweet smile that I think any girl would find irresistible. Preston comes up behind me, clapping a hand on my shoulder before advancing through the throng of people.

  William, however much he said about wanting to dance, lingers. “Would you like to enjoy a snack before we get to putting our names on dance cards?”

  That sounds like a glorious idea, although Edwin behind me has to interject his unwanted opinion by muttering, “Keeping an eye out for the manliest-looking one, William?”

  I shoot him a venomous stare. “A shame you don’t fall into that category, hm?”

  Edwin takes note of the lack of humour in my voice. For the things he sometimes spews from his obnoxious mouth, he’s not a confrontational person, and my sharp retort is enough to make him lower his eyes swiftly. But William’s expression becomes pinched, mouth pulling into a thin line. He levels an unimpressed look Edwin’s way and turns on his heel. I watch as he navigates the room, approaches a lovely girl in a dress of maroons and silvers—her outfit compliments his nicely—and I see the soft smile he offers her, the elegant bow of his body, and when he extends a hand, she gladly places hers in his.

  I want to laugh at the sullen scowl that crosses Edwin’s face.

  “I’m afraid with a face like yours and a face like dear William’s, he will come out ahead every time.”

  I leave him there with every intention of throwing myself into the fray and finding some enjoyment in it. And because I want to enjoy myself, and I want whomever I associate with to enjoy themselves, I seek out a girl on the outskirts of the room. She keeps fussing with the ringlets of hair framing her face, and up close her dress appears a little worn. Passed down, perhaps. Her face is nicely powdered, but it’s obvious she’s painted her cheeks, something likely looked down upon by the other girls who strive to look as natural as possible despite that they use the exact same products and simply have more skill at using them subtly. When I approach, she scarcely looks up. I will say, the natural red of her hair may make others turn up their noses, but I find it quite lovely.

  “Good evening,” I greet, wearing a smile I know from experience women find charming. Her eyes dart up, nervously, and then glance from side to side. When she realises I am indeed addressing her, she straightens her spine and forces herself to lift her head.

  “Oh. Yes. Um, good evening.”

  “It appears to me you don’t wish to be here. A sentiment I can sympathize with, by the way.” I place one foot forward and bow my head, extending a hand in her direction. “That being said, would you grant me the honour of a dance?”

  Her green eyes widen a fraction and she looks to take my hand, pausing just shy of it. “You flatter me, but I feel I should warn you that I’m quite an atrocious dancer.”

  I remain poised, hand outstretched. “Then I shall be an atrocious dancer with you.”

  The upturn of her lips and the hopeful glint in her eyes makes me smile, and she places her hand in mine.

  As it turns out, my companion—Juniper, her name is—is not all that horrible a dancer, she’s simply unconfident and spends too much time trying to look at her feet out of fear of stepping on mine. I manage to coax her into trusting me to lead her appropriately, and she fares much better after that. By the time we’ve shared two dances, I manage to catch Benjamin’s eyes from nearby and he steps in to ask for the next one.

  I take a dance with another girl who I think has not been asked, followed by another and another. I pause briefly to fetch myself a drink, and converse with a group of women and fourth years for a while before returning to dancing. Every now and again, I spot William and our eyes meet, smiles are exchanged, and that envious feeling of wanting to be the one dancing with him returns to gnaw at my insides.

  The hour grows late. I steal one more dance with Juniper, and afterwards grant myself a brief reprieve by the refreshments table. It’s close to the musicians and the noise is a bit deafening, but it means no one tries to bother me while I scan the room. First, I search for Oscar, who is still noticeably absent, and then for William, whom I spot standing amongst a group of four women, engaged in conversation.

  It’s fascinating to watch. Dear William, always so quiet and the bearer of dark expressions, has the ghost of a smile upon his face and whatever he’s saying has his audience entirely enrapt. They giggle and hide smiles behind their hands, demure as can be. It would appear he has quite a knack with the fairer sex. Perhaps he’s simply eager to prove Edwin wrong.

  A hand comes to rest on my shoulder, and I realise I’ve been staring after William most intently and didn’t notice anyone coming up on my right. I turn, expecting…well, any array of people. Oscar, Preston, Edwin, Benjamin. Instead, I find myself eye to eye with my English teacher, who looks a few years younger in his simple but expensive suit.

  “Mr. Hart,” I say, trying to mask my surprise that he’s approached me in the midst of all this when all the other staff seem to be keeping to the side lines and merely observing.

  “Mr. Spencer.” He offers me the quietest of smiles, and I could swear there’s a bit of worry present in his eyes as he wrings his hands together. “I apologize for interrupting your evening, but I couldn’t help but notice the absence of Mr. Frances. Since the two of you room together, I thought you might have seen him?”

  An odd question, to be certain; then again, attendance to the party was mandatory. “He was summoned to the headmaster’s office hours ago. I thought I would meet up with him here, but he has yet to make an appearance. I’m beginning to worry he was banned from attending.”

  A concerned frown swiftly chases the smile from Mr. Hart’s face. It’s a brief look, that worry and alarm, but I take notice of it before he tries to smile again. “Is that so? In that case, I shall inquire with the headmaster. Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your evening, sir,” I say, even as he disappears into the crowd. Rather than seek out the headmaster, however, he heads for the doors and I don a frown of my own. What’s more, it isn’t long after that I see William heading for those doors, as well. He touches a hand to his forehead and the reasoning for his departure becomes clear: his medicine has undoubtedly worn off after the last few hours. He’s told me that large groups are too much for him without it.

  Without thought, I abandon my glass and skirt the perimeter of the room to head outside.

  It’s pitch dark out, save for the gas lamps lining the pathway out to the road. Out towards the dormitories, though, is little more than ghostly shapes beneath the moonlight. I don’t spot Mr. Hart, nor William.

  “James.”

  The voice comes from my right, and I turn just in time to see William disappear around the corner of the building. I follow, concerned and curious, having to squeeze into the three-foot gap between the building and the hedges that line it to where William awaits me. He leans into the wall, head bowed, and eyes rolled up to watch me. A come-hither expression like that is enough to make my stomach do pleasant little somersaults but doesn’t abate my worry.

  “Are you well?”

  “Just needed a brief reprieve,” he assures. “Althoug
h now that you’re here, I find no reason to hurry back inside.”

  “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” I shift closer to him, very aware of the privacy we have here despite being outside. We’re out of sight of anyone exiting the building, and should anyone venture too close to our location, we would hear them as they cross the dewy grass.

  “I was enjoying seeing your friend’s sullen face as I danced with every lovely girl who wouldn’t even give him a second glance.” A cheeky little smile plays across his mouth and I cannot help but laugh. At least until he says, “And watching you watching me. I enjoyed that, as well.”

  Not surprising that he noticed, and not something that bothers me. “Perfectly justifiable for me to be a bit jealous, isn’t it? All the women fawning all over you, having your undivided attention…”

  “Not a one of them had my undivided attention, James. Not when I always kept half of it on you.”

  I draw in a slow breath as William presses his palm to my chest, fingers splayed out against the fabric. “Really. No interest in any of them, then?” The jealousy is showing, I know it, and I cannot quite bite it back. Or maybe I just want to hear him say it. You’re the one I’m interested in, James.

  William sighs, sliding the lapel of my coat between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, darling, I like women just fine. It just so happens I like you far more.”

  As he speaks, as he leans closer, I only have a second to process what’s about to happen. He grasps my lapels in both hands and drags me in until his mouth crushes against mine. A surprised gasp escapes my throat, but this is hardly a surprise I can complain about. I’ve been waiting for this exact moment, and I waste no time in slipping my arms around William and tipping my head, slanting our mouths together as he flattens his back against the wall and holds me against him.

  Everything about him tastes and feels as heavenly as I could have imagined. My head is positively swimming. I’m hyper-aware of everything about William’s body; the press of his torso against mine, the low, delicious moan that escapes his throat when I catch his lower lip briefly between my teeth, and the desperation in which he clutches at me for dear life. He kisses me until we’re breathless and flushed and I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. Everything is fine, perfect.

  Until I feel his hands wander down, hiking up my coat, and his fingers against the fastens of my trousers.

  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, a door opens in the dead of night. Footsteps enter my room, and the smell of alcohol and cigars flood my senses…

  My mind blanks. Not in a pleasant way.

  I’ve grabbed his wrists before I’ve even realised it, a firm and resounding “No,” upon my lips.

  Just like that, we both go impossibly still save for our ragged breathing. William shrinks away from me then, although he hasn’t really anywhere to go, and I realise the grip I have on him is painfully tight. He draws back sharply once I’ve released him, his eyes impossibly wide in confusion, and I contemplate the merits of slamming my own face into the wall in a mixture of embarrassment and irritation at myself.

  “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t…”

  I force the monstrous anxiety deep down into the pits of my soul, because I cannot stand to see William look at me that way, nor do I want to have to explain to him what just happened. The smile I offer suggests I’m not bothered in the least. “You’ll have to forgive me, dear William. I’m a bit of a romantic and this isn’t quite the setting I’d envisioned for us.” Because I have envisioned it. More times than I would like to admit.

  William doesn’t look convinced, still appearing chastened. “My apologies. I was overly forward.”

  I tuck my fingers beneath his chin to coax him into looking at me again. “I’m not searching for an apology. I promise, it’s all right.”

  He drags in a slow breath. “But kissing is permissible?”

  My mouth curves into a smile. “I’m not sure. Kiss me again so we can find out.”

  After a look of uncertainty has passed across his face while he nurses his wounded confidence, William brings his hands to my face, cupping it ever so gently between his palms, before leaning up to kiss me again. He’s far softer this time, and it isn’t any better or worse than before, just…different. Warm and affectionate and it sends a shiver straight down my spine. Kissing William, I decide, is my new favourite thing in the world. I could stay where we are all night.

  Were it not for the sound of something on the other side of the hedges causing us both to freeze. Have we gotten so distracted with each other that we didn’t hear someone approach?

  “What was that?” I whisper.

  William licks his lips, breathless and beautiful even as he’s straightening up and attempting to orient himself. “Footsteps?”

  We fall silent, listening. There’s definitely someone out there. Not back around the front of the building where I would have expected anyone to be, but behind us, on the other side of the hedges, where there is nothing but grass stretching out across the grounds towards Gawain and Lancelot Hall.

  It could be any number of things. Another boy sneaking about while most of the staff are distracted with the party, for instance. I twist away from William, inching down a ways until I get to a spot where I can part the dense branches between the juncture of two hedges and try to get a glimpse.

  “James,” William hisses, keeping at my heels and catching hold of my arm.

  Through the shrubbery, I have a view of the dewy fields between here and the dorms. In that field, is a boy. Even beneath the moonlight, it’s difficult to determine age, but he’s wearing a uniform—although something about it does not look quite like our own. Most peculiar, though, is the slow, sluggish way in which he walks, and the hunch of his shoulders.

  Something is amiss. My heart has begun to race again, this time out of discomfort rather than the excitement of kissing William. I swallow past a dry throat, take a breath, and push my way between the hedges to advance out onto the grass. Of course William follows suit, never relinquishing his fierce hold on my arm.

  Maybe we should have kept hidden. Maybe this is a terrible idea. The closer I walk towards the shambling figure, the quicker my pulse races and the tighter my chest becomes. I stop with plenty of distance between us, observing a moment longer before cautiously calling out, “You there! All right?”

  The boy ambles to a stop. Slowly, he turns to face us. The second we get a good look at him, every ounce of blood drains from my face.

  Whatever it is we’re looking at has not been alive for a very, very long time.

  His skin pulled taut across his bones, ashy grey in colour, and his stringy hair clings to it. Never will I wipe the image of those milky, sunken eyes from my mind. The voice that comes out of his cracked lips and blackened mouth is hoarse and quiet.

  “If I’m late to class, he’ll punish me.”

  I cannot move. I cannot speak. I’m sorry I said anything at all. William trembles beside me. I cannot move an inch myself to do anything about it.

  But the boy has no lingering interest in us. After he speaks, he turns again and resumes shuffling away. The darkness swallows him up and before long, I can no longer see him at all.

  I remain silent for a long moment, trying to figure out what has just happened or what we should do about it, and the only thing I can think to say in my nervousness, “Do you think he didn’t turn his maths homework in on time?”

  William’s gaze slowly turns to me. He hits my arm.

  “What! Mr. McLachlan is quite strict about those deadlines!”

  “We’ve just seen a corpse walking across our school grounds and your response is to make jokes?!” His voice cracks at the end, fractured by panic.

  I frown, rubbing at my arm. “I’m terribly sorry, William; I forgot to consult the etiquette book on spirit sightings.”

  “Well, maybe you should have,” he snaps, despite that such a statement really makes no sense. “What are we supposed to— what if it comes ba
ck? It saw us and what if it—”

  “What if it wants to be friends? Maybe we can help it with its maths work.”

  “Oh, Christ’s sake…” William turns away and doubles over, hands upon his knees. I’m reminded of the night he came bursting into the common room and cannot help but feel a little niggling sense of guilt for prodding at him when he’s obviously far more frightened than I am.

  “Let’s get you back to your room,” I say gently, touching a hand to his back. “I think you need your medicine.”

  William doesn’t reply with anything but a nod. He’s shaky as he straightens up, and I wish I could risk holding onto his hand as we begin the trek across the grounds towards the dorms.

  With all the third-years at the ball, Gawain is deathly silent. The sconces are still lit, so it isn’t too unnerving heading up to the second floor to get William to his room. Inside, he promptly begins to yank at his cravat and the buttons of his coat. As he does so, I spot the bottle of laudanum atop his dresser and fetch it for him, taking a second to look it over.

  One DRAM, Tincture of Opium. Soothes all ailments. Dose: Adults, 1 teaspoonful.

  The label is adorned with a small red poppy flower next to the brand name. He turns to me as I offer it out to him and he wastes no time in uncorking the bottle and sipping straight from it. It isn’t much, truly, but it is without a doubt more than one teaspoon. I start to reach for it with a frown. “Easy.”

  William only waves me off, disregarding my concern. I try to remind myself that he has far more knowledge about his dosages than I do. He sits on the edge of his bed while I remove my shoes, jacket, and waistcoat, and say, “Let’s lie down for a bit, darling.” Just long enough for his medicine to kick in, I think. Enough for him to calm down.

  William has not moved to get undressed further, so I go to him and coax him into standing so that I can help him along with it. Even given the situation, there’s an intense intimacy in helping another man undress. William fusses with the buttons of his waistcoat while I slide the cravat from his neck, and he drops his arms to the sides when we get to his shirt and I begin the process of unbuttoning it for him. I’m distinctly aware of his eyes focused on my face.