vonHelfinA Story by Lea SherynNorah Chamberlain's life turns upside down following her father's execution. Her impoverished mother takes a governess position in faraway Romania. They come face to face with a vampire.I The midnight
forest surrounded the couch as it raced toward our destination. Tha-whack,
tha-whack. Cragged black branches, reaching out like tentacles, beat a staccato
against our conveyance. The springs beneath us creaked in response. Above us,
the driver cracked his whip, urging his bulking horses to quicken their pace. Suddenly, the air
split with the ululating of a hidden wolf. Shrieking, I grasped Mama's arm and buried
my head in her throbbing bosom. Gently, her fingers raked through my soft brown
hair. She crooned as she would to a babe. I snuggled deeper, burying my eyes
and stopping my ears with index fingers. Then, we burst through the tangled forest.
The jolting carriage began to climb the treacherous rocky edifice. Chills raced down
my spine when I set eyes on the gothic castle. Clinging precariously upon a
rocky peak, it loomed in the swirling gray mist. The blood-red full moon hung
ominously above its crumbling turrets. Our coach swayed perilously as it
jounced along the ill-kept winding approach. Desperately, I burrowed my head
deeper into Mama's shoulder. Childlike, I squeezed
my eyes closed and wished the sight away. I longed for the comforts of Grey
Friars’ Vicarage and Victorian England. I envisioned the walled garden with its
white gazabo in the center. Inside, Prentiss Wills awaited me. I ran to him,
the skirt of my white dress billowing around my ankles. Once, my future
held marriage and a cozy parsonage of our own. I envisioned a life similar to
Mama and Papa’s. Prentiss would eventually become a vicar, and I would take my
place as his devoted wife. Church affairs and planning the annual fete would consume
my time. At the age of sixteen,
I noticed my parents’ nods of approval concerning the curate and me. Prentiss
arrived two years previously. Tall and lanky, he wore his brown hair trimmed
neatly above his ears. His hazel eyes, hidden behind thick-lensed glasses,
peered studiously at his surroundings. Papa called him steady and reliable"a
perfect match for his daughter, Norah Chamberlain. Then, two months
ago, the situation changed drastically. My gentle, loving Father, who never
hurt another soul, became involved in a dreadful fight. Papa killed a man. Four times a
year, Papa spent a week in London lecturing at the seminary. Occasionally, Mama
and I accompanied him. While he conducted his business, we spent our time
shopping. How I loved visiting the dress shops and millenaries. Frivolously,
Mama purchased frilly hats and flounce skirted dresses for both of us. She was
thrilled by my advancing age and determined I should appear in the height of
fashion. On this occasion,
however, Papa traveled alone. He stayed in a local boarding house for the week.
It was a short walk between his lodgings and the seminary. On this particular
evening, an elongated lecture kept him late. He hurried along the fog
enshrouded London streets. Up a dark alley, he heard upraised voices. Peering into the
mist, Papa noticed a man grasping a woman. His strong arms pinned her against a
wall. Stepping toward them, my father ordered the brute to let go. The furious
Londoner attacked instead. In the midst of the fight, Papa thrust the man
against the wall, breaking open his head. “You’ve killed
him!” the woman shrieked, backing away. “I…I didn’t mean
to,” the good vicar responded. Kneeling beside the prostrate form, he checked
the man’s pulse. Then, he solemnly closed the ogling eyes. “Lord, our Father, forgive
this man his sins…” “You will kill a
man, then pray for him,” the wide-eyed woman whispered, backing away. “I beseech you,
madam,” Papa pleaded, his hands still clasped in prayer. “I did not mean to
harm him. Please.” For the first time, my father looked at the
woman. Tears streaked her face heavy with cosmetics. The plunging neckline of
her gown surprised him. “A w***e,” he
choaked out. “Yes, a w***e,”
she spat out. Advancing upon him, she beat him with her fists. “You lost me two
bob.” Completing his
story, Papa collapsed against his chair’s back. He covered his face with his palms
and sobbed. Wringing her hands, Mama gazed down upon him. Then, she sank to her
knees and entwined his hands with hers. I stood awkwardly behind her, massaging
her bent back. "I don't
know what overcame me, Belle," my Father moaned, staring at his smooth
palms. “You’re here now,
Millard,” my mother swiftly stated. “You’re safe at home.” “I can still hear
my footsteps echoing on the cobbles as I hastened away,” my father continued as
though she had not spoken. “The fog put everything out of perspective. I
wandered around the city for hours before returning to my lodgings.” “There, there,”
Mama comforted, placing a kiss on his balding pate. “You’re home, Mill. That’s
all that matters.” “I must return,”
Papa insisted, squeezing her hands. “I have repented of my sins. God has
forgiven me, but I must face the consequences. I…I killed a man.” “Oh no, Mill,
no,” my mother moaned, tears clinging to her pale lashes. Her nervous fingers
played over the cameo at her throat. “Surely, it was self-defense.” “Nevertheless,
Isabelle…” Papa started, but the words caught in his throat. Soundlessly, I
watched my parents. My heart broke for them and our little family. Aghast, I knelt
beside Mama and threw my arms around my father’s neck. He held me close while I
sobbed. Dolefully, I
leaned my cheek against the carriage window. Memories of that fate-filled night
played in my mind's eye. Papa returned to London the following day. The good
rector turned himself into the police. His confession and refusal of counsel
sped up his trial. Found guilty of murder, the jury laid down the hanging
sentence. “Oh, Papa,” I
mourned as the carriage jolted onward. Tears streaked down my face. Never again could I lay flowers upon in his
grave in Grey Friar's churchyard. I could not run my fingers along the words
marking his gravestone. My lips formed them as we moved closer to our
destination. Reverend Millard Richard
Chamberlain Born 1856 Died 1893 Blessed are the meek, His
tragic execution struck us hard. Cast out of the vicarage, we became homeless. Suddenly,
my frivolous Mama had to provide for us. She decided to become a governess and
answered several newspaper adverts for the position. The notoriety of
my father’s execution spread rapidly. Rejection letters to my mother’s
inquiries began to arrive. She could not find a position nearby, nor in France,
Spain or Germany. Finally, she received a letter summoning her
for an interview. And so, we left England. Romania! A
godforsaken place to begin anew. The rickety coach
halted before the castle’s drawbridge. Out of the mist, the bridge lowered,
then thumped into place. Bravely, we crossed into the forbidding courtyard. “This is as far as I go,” the one-eyed
coachman quipped. Leaping from his seat, he hastily dropped our baggage onto
the uneven cobblestones. Mama's foot
barely touched the ground before our conveyance jerked around. Swiftly, it
disappeared. The quick-paced clop of horses' hooves reverberated around the
still enclosure. Longingly, I
watched the departure. I wished I had never exited the vehicle. Tentatively, I
grasped Mama's hand. She held her head high and approached the ominous castle
door. Boldly, she swung the knocker against the barred edifice. The moon,
momentarily peeking through the midst, showed its bat shape. Involuntarily, I
shivered. The creaking door
swung inward of its own accord. Mama stepped forward, practically dragging me
along with her. “Hello.” The echo
of Mama’s voice resounded about the cobweb-strewn hall. Alone, we stood
close together. My arms encircled the waist of Mama's black bombazine dress. It
held the comforting scent of lavender. I buried my head in her shoulder. “No one is here,
Mama,” I stated, gulping my sobs. “We cannot stay.” The walk down the
perilous incline would take all night. However, I preferred returning to the
village to the moldy, abandoned castle. Anxiously, I tugged her arm, urging her
to leave. She motioned me to follow her and stepped further into the eerie
foyer. I following, clinging anxiously to her sleeve. “Hello,” my
mother called, raising her voice. We paused, apprehensively. Defeated, Mama
strode toward the door. I hurriedly followed in her wake. Indeed, our departure
became imminent. I felt an urgent need to put our fool’s errand behind us. Somehow,
we would return to England. Then, out of the
gloom, the dark figure loomed in front of us.
II "Baron
von Helfin, I presume," Mama stated, stepping toward the ominous figure.
Sweeping a curtsey, she bobbed her head downward, then stood. Silently, the
Baron gazed upon her, his hooded eyes hidden. The air froze around him, causing
an involuntary shiver along my spine. When he stepped toward us, I hastily
moved backward. Grabbing my arm, Mama pulled me beside her. "Isabella
Chamberlain, at your service," Mama continued her introduction. "My
daughter, Norah." I noticed the
slight stammer in her voice. The Baron unnerved my stalwart mother. Tall and
thin, he towered above her. He wore a black tailcoat buttoned over a red
diamond-printed waistcoat. The cravat at his neck contained a ruby stickpin.
Clicking his heels, he bowed slightly at the waist. "Please
follow me," Mama's new employer invited. "I am sure you require
refreshment following your long journey." We entered a
small parlor with heavy drapes hanging at large French doors. The Baron sat in
a wingback chair and indicated a small round table. His ghostly face
disappeared into the shadows. A musty scent prevailed in the room, nearly
choking me. Mama sat
opposite our host and folded her hands in her lap. Her pale complexion stood
out above her black mourning dress. Hovering behind her, I hesitated to join
them. My entire body was poised to flee. "Don't
stand about like a scarecrow, Norah," Mama chastised, beckoning me toward
a red brocade armchair. "Do sit down and take refreshment." "Yes,
Mama," I muttered unwillingly. I glared at the silent Baron as I slipped
into the seat indicated. Mama poured
the tea from the silver pot and offered our host the cup embossed with the von
Helfin coat of arms. She frowned when he refused the proffered refreshment.
Momentarily at a loss, she stared at her extended arm, then passed the cup on
to me. I hastily accepted it and placed it on the table before me. Nonplussed,
Mama buttered a scone and added clotted cream and jam. Again, the Baron refused
the plate, and I accepted it. However, a moldy taste filled my mouth when I bit
into the pastry. Stifling an involuntary gag, I awkwardly held the small China
plate in my lap. While Mama and
her new employer discussed her duties, my eyes roamed the small chamber. The
furnishings appeared worn and disused. Dust clung to the window hangings, and
the faded wallpaper peeled away at the corners. Cobwebs hanging from the
ceiling entwined disused light fixtures. I shuddered and turned my eyes toward
the fireplace. Soot clung to the mantel and the firebox. A small pile of coal
glowed feebly, casting a dim light. Otherwise, the room remained quite dark. "You have
traveled a great distance, Madam Chamberlain," Baron von Helfin stated.
His smooth voice sounded dry, as though he hadn't spoken following a long
interval. "Yes,
from England," Mama responded, her teacup poised before her lips.
"Burnley-Upon-Tyne. It's rather a small place in the northeast."
Pausing, she bowed her head in reverence for my dearly departed father.
"My husband was the Vicar of Grey Friars' Church. God rest his soul." At the mention
of Papa's church, the Baron withdrew further into his chair. His pale face
blanched, and a slight hiss escaped his tight red mouth. Mama did not
notice. Instead, she reached for another scone and buttered it. She munched
upon it, undisturbed by the taste and the awkward situation. Time passed
slowly. On the mantelpiece, the ormolu clock read twelve-thirty-five. A light
mist crept into the parlor, entwining our ankles. The Baron continued to sit,
his hands folded in his lap. He did not offer to light the lamps. Then, I
noticed that the room lacked any means of illumination besides the disused wall
sconces. Finally, our
host rose and again bowed at the waist. Baron von Helfin extended his hand.
Mama stared up at him, momentarily at a loss. "The
children await you in their nursery," the Baron stated, a small smile
twitching at his ruby lips. "They are eager to make your
acquaintance." Following
Papa's execution, Mama applied for a post as governess. However, the scandal
surrounding my father's crime created a lack of acceptance. England turned her
back upon us as well as France and Germany. Finally, she received a favorable
response from Baron von Helfin. Thus, we journeyed, by the Orient Express, to
faraway Romania. Hastily, Mama
abandoned her refreshment and grasped the Baron's hand. She rose with his
generous assistance. I delayed following them. However, the Baron insisted I
accompany them. Reluctantly, I re-entered the great hall in their wake. Mama halted at
the foot of the swooping staircase, assuming the nursery's location. At home,
the children's chambers occupied an upper level. Poised to climb upward, a look
of confusion crossed her face. The Baron swiftly opened a nondescript oaken
door. Its hinges screeched loudly, echoing throughout the chamber. We joined
him and descended a narrow stairway. I shuddered as
we passed through a tight corridor. The moist walls pressed close to our
shoulders. Slippery with moss, the uneven cobblestones became more treacherous
as we descended. Mama swiped at clinging cobwebs, clearing the path for me. Finally, the
Baron paused outside a bolted door and swung it open. Inside the ghastly
chamber, three children waited. The nursery held the scent of a long-disused
room. A broken rocking horse slumped in the corner; its once brilliant paint
faded. Along a wall shelf, antique toys stood in an inch of dust. Lined close
together, the three children stood like statues. Their ghostly pale skin
shocked me. Other than portraits of Queen Elizabeth I, I never saw such white
faces. Pressing close to Mama, I grasped her hand and squeezed. "My son,
Vlad," the Baron introduced. Stepping
forward, the fourteen-year-old boy dipped his head in a bow. His black hair
seemed plastered to his head. The white part stood out sharply in contrast. His
eyes resembled his father's, and he smiled without emotion. "And my
daughters, Luiza and Vanda." Clutching the
younger child's hand, Luiza stepped forward. Vanda halted and stuck three
fingers between sanguine lips. Then, she buried her head in her sister's black
worsted skirt. Mama knelt
before the two girls and greeted them kindly. Taking Luiza's pale hands, she
captured the girl's dark eyes with her sparkling blue ones. "I am
delighted to make your acquaintance," my mother stated, smiling warmly.
"I am sure we will get along splendidly." Twelve-year-old
Luiza stared at Mama as though she could not comprehend. Her dark eyes stood
out from hollow, dark-rimmed lids. Long black hair hung lankly, framing a thin
ghostly face. Her lips looked like an angry slash beneath her aquiline nose,
like an unhealed wound. Vanda remained
in the shadow of her older sister. Resembling her older brother and sister, she
wore a black sack-like dress and black and white striped stockings, and dark
ankle-high boots. I estimated her age at about six or seven. Patiently the
Baron interpreted Mama's statement. The girl nodded solemnly. She could not
speak English. I wondered how my mother intended to teach the children. The
language barrier would surely stunt the activity. "Vlad
already speaks English, Madam," von Helfin hastily remarked. "You
will teach my daughters with his assistance." The statement
did not comfort me. Our misfortunes led us to a strange place. Wistfully, my
thoughts turned back to the vicarage and the small schoolroom. The curate,
Prentiss Wills, taught the local children. His well-planned lessons provided a
healthy education. However, Mama faced a difficult path with the three glum von
Helfin children. III Bidding the
children goodnight, we returned to the upstairs parlor. A dreadful feeling
enshrouded me. I tried to envision Mama descending into the cobweb-strewn
cellar chamber each day. Her usually sunny disposition did not fit the eerie underground
nursery. I considered
the gloomy von Helfin youngsters. Their glum expressions startled me. I
wondered if they existed entirely below ground. Did they ever come out to play
in the sunshine? Did laughter and joy ever fill their meager lives? Mama had
her work cut out if she expected to improve them through education. I shuddered
at the prospect. I dismissed
the youngsters from my thoughts as my eyes swept the dismal parlor. The red
moon casts a supernatural path across the worn carpet. It remained the only
illumination provided. As I retook my seat, I noticed the tea tray's
disappearance. We would not have to partake in further refreshments. I sighed
with relief. Mama and the
Baron spoke in low tones as I continued to survey the parlor. I inhaled with
surprise when the figure of a man appeared in a dark corner. Gasping, I drew
our host's attention. He followed my gaze, a slight smile playing about his
frigid lips. "Allow me
to introduce my nephew and ward," von Helfin remarked, rising. Extending
his hand, he beckoned the newcomer forward. A young man,
approximately twenty years of age, stepped forward. His uncanny resemblance to
the Baron took me aback. Bowing sedately at the waist, he acknowledged my
mother. Then, he turned toward me. His face brightened with a slight smile, and
his dark eyes twinkled. Lifting my hand, he brought it to his lips for a kiss. "Ranulf
Zamfir," the Baron introduced, "the son of my late sister,
Lavinia." "Pleased
to make your acquaintance," Mama pleasantly remarked. "Likewise,
Madam," the nephew stiffly responded. Bowing again, he clicked his heels. Dismissing my
mother, Ranulf swiveled to re-face me. I lifted my hand in a wave and muttered
'hello' shyly. Beneath my bodice, my heart thumped wildly. I felt an instant
attraction to the young nephew. Ranulf stood
at attention with his hands clasped behind his back. Black wavy hair framed his
slim face and tousled across his forehead. Although his skin appeared as pallid
as his uncle, a soft peach hue tinted his cheeks. His red lips parted as though
in expectation. I wiggled in
my seat beneath his softening expression. Eagerly, I waited for him to speak
again. However, the Baron coolly swung his gaze in our direction. He curtly
nodded toward the door and dismissed Ranulf. The young man spun on his heels
and abruptly departed. Falling
against the chair's back, I felt deflated. Ranulf's sudden departure left an
emptiness within my heart. I grappled with the instant feeling that overcame
me. In the background, Mama and the Baron continued their discussion. I heard
the murmur of their voices, but my thoughts flew toward the retreating nephew.
I wished to follow him but remained in my seat, confused. "In a
moment, the housekeeper will show you to your rooms," von Helfin
announced, interrupting my contemplations. Lithely he rose and sharply yanked a
crimson bell pull. "You may relax tomorrow and settle in. Your long
journey will catch up with you. You may begin your curriculum with the children
during the following evening." "Thank
you," my parent responded, nonplussed by the Baron's statement. When I threw
her a startled look, Mama shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. Apparently, the
Baron expected Mama to take up her duties during the overnight hours. Responding
quickly, the housekeeper stepped into the parlor. Her crisply starched apron
covered her black homespun dress. Bobbing her snowy head, I glimpsed a maid's
lacy cap. A sullen expression covered her worn face. Her short, plump body
filled the doorway. Obediently, she awaited her employer's orders. "Madam
Balan will see to your needs," Baron von Helfin explained. Bowing deeply
at the waist, he swiveled on his heels and marched from the room. "This
way," Madam Balan instructed, leading us into the entrance hall. We followed
her up the curving staircase to the second floor. Briskly, she stomped along
the corridor. Mama and I followed in her wake. As we passed, I noted the worn
carpet and faded wallpaper. Cobwebs clung in the corners, and dust covered the
meager furnishings. Giant portraits of long-dead von Helfin's stared down at
me. I could swear their eyes swiveled to follow my every movement. At the end of
the dank hallway, we mounted a narrow stairway. Up and up we went without
pausing on the third-floor landing. At the fourth, we climbed a spiraling
stairway into the west turret. Finally, Madam Balan halted and flung open an
oaken door. We stepped into a semicircular bedroom. The
cleanliness of the chamber surprised me. Hung with burgundy damask curtains,
the ebony bed dominated the room. Mama stepped toward it and tested the
mattress. Pleased, she sat at its edge. A huge fire crackled in the fireplace,
warming the room. Antique furniture dominated the large room. It appeared
comfortable and inviting. "Hot
water and breakfast will arrive promptly in the morning," the housekeeper
flatly announced. "The midday meal is served in the small dining room. The
maid will assist you and guide you. And, now, for the young lady." Throwing a
tentative glance at Mama, I followed Madam Balan across the rotunda. A similar
chamber greeted me. Emerald hangings adorned the bed instead of burgundy. I
frowned at the slit of a window. It would provide little natural light to my
new surroundings. Otherwise, my room appeared as pleasant as Mama's did. As soon as the
housekeeper disappeared, Mama entered my room. She glanced at the surroundings,
then dropped into a cushiony chair. For the first time, I noticed her strained
expression. The rigors of travel and our arrival at the imposing castle took
their toll on her usually vibrant personality. "What a
strange place," she muttered, applying her handkerchief to her perspiring
brow. "What strange people." Kneeling, I
placed my head on her lap. Soothingly, Mama combed her fingers through my soft,
brown hair. The hours ticked away on the ormolu mantle clock as we sat through
the night. I could not guess what the morrow would bring. Nor could I see into
our future life as a part of the von Helfin household. IV Weak sunlight
peeked through the damask draperies surrounding my bed. Yawning, I sat up and
surveyed my strange surroundings. A slim finger of light entered through the
high slit in the turret wall. It cast the room in a dim, forbidding glow.
Optimistically, I hoped our environment would take on a less sinister aspect. I slid off my bed
and shivered in the chill air. Donning my dressing gown over my flannelette
nightie, I hurried toward the fire dancing beneath the mantle. Stretching out my hands, I basked in its
warmth. I sank into the brocade armchair and propped my feet on the matching
ottoman. My new bedchamber
contrasted favorably against the eeriness of the castle beneath the turret. I
considered the curiosity of the entire situation. The occupants seemed strange.
The austere Baron with his staunch manners and his pale children alarmed me.
They appeared to come from a different world, perhaps a different century. I sat in the
brocade armchair with my feet propped on the matching ottoman. The fire chased
away the chillness of the room. When the door cracked open, I smiled welcomely
at the girl who entered. She placed the breakfast tray on a side table and
bobbed a curtsey. “Helga Balan at
your service, ma’am,” she introduced in stilted English. “I’m to assist you and
your Mama.” “I am pleased to
meet you, Helga,” I cordially replied. “I am Norah Chamberlain.” “At your service,
Miss Norah,” the young woman muttered, demurely. She bobbed again. When her dark
melancholy eyes met mine, I noticed the nearness of our ages. I guessed her at
between fifteen and seventeen. A mass of unkempt curly black hair escaped
Helga’s white lace cap, surrounding her apple-red cheeks. Similar to the Baron
and his children, her creamy white skin appeared sallow. Nevertheless, I warmed
to her and hoped, in time, a companionship would grow between us. I felt I
could sorely use a friend within the bleak von Helfin castle. "I will
return with hot water in half an hour," the young servant announced.
"You can wash up after breakfast. Then I will help you unpack." I smiled warmly,
noticing she pronounced her ‘w’ with a ‘v’ sound. Before I could respond, the chamber door
swung open, and a large man, carrying my trunk on his shoulder, trundled in. He
dropped it to the floor, creating a loud thump. Snatching his flat-hat from his
straw-colored hair, he kneaded it with splatted hands. The male servant stared
helplessly at me. Then, his soft brown eyes shifted toward Helga. He did not
utter a word of greeting or introduction.
“That’s Godoired
Cazacu,” my companion whispered, conspiratorily. “He’s a dummy.” I stared at Helga
incredulously. Her abrupt introduction seemed callous and touched my
sensibilities. The manservant continued to scrunch his hat in his blunted fingers.
Bowing his head, he stared at the floor between his feet. I suddenly realized
he could neither speak nor hear. I cringed the term 'dummy.' Papa taught me to
respect everyone regardless of their disabilities. “You mean
Godoired is a deaf-mute,” I replied, sharply, “not that he is stupid.” “Well,” Helga
answered, drawing out her response. “He is a little of both.” I felt my cheeks
grow hot with indignation. Although Godoired could not comprehend the
conversation’s tone, the disdain Helga showed him irked me. “I am pleased to
meet you, Godoired,” I exclaimed, carefully forming my words. If he understood
English, perhaps he could read my lips. “Thank you for bringing my trunk. You
may go now.” “That means ‘get
out of here,’” Helga rudely intervened. Grasping the retainer’s arm, she
hurried him through the door and slammed it in his face. I glared at the
maidservant angrily. My thoughts of gaining her friendship fled instantly.
Swiftly, I rounded on her, ready to scold her. Helga faced me glibly as though
nothing untoward had happened. My antagonism flared, then simmered. “You may go now,”
I snapped, coolly. “I will expect the hot water, but I can unpack myself.”
Dismissively, I turned to my morning meal. The crumpets,
jam, and pot of coffee appeared inviting. Hungrily, I began to spread the jam
on the breakfast pasty. However, when I bit into it, the moldy taste of the
previous night evaded my tongue. “Ugh!” I
exclaimed, tossing the crumpet into the fire. If the situation continued, I
would surely starve to death. I sank into the armchair and glared at the floor. “Good morning,”
Mama chirped sweetly. She entered through a connecting door, carrying her
breakfast tray. Sitting across from me, she began to eat. The taste did not
phase her. "How long
must we stay here, Mama?" I snapped, bluntly. "We've come
a long way, Norah," my mother responded. "You cannot expect to depart
too swiftly." Pouring a cup of coffee, she sat back in her chair. Daintily,
she brought the cup's rim to her lips and sipped. "But,
Mama," I cried, disdainfully. “There are no
‘buts’ about it, Norah,” my parent remarked. “I must earn my living now that
Papa is gone. This was the only opportunity open to us. We must make the best
of it.” Restlessly, I
stood and wandered toward the window slit. Leaning against the cold stone wall,
I peered through the gap. It did not provide a wide view. However, the
uninviting vista sent a shiver down my spine. A black forest stretching toward
the horizon greeted my gaze. Angry thunder clouds hovered above it. Forked
lightning flashed, followed by the roar of thunder. All about the castle, death
seemed to spread its tentacles. Suddenly, I
longed for the green fields of England and autumn apples. A tear formed in the
corner of my eye. I lowered my lashes and dashed it away in utter despair. Far
away, Prentiss Wills resided at Gray Frair’s vicarage. I could see him standing
in the Sunday pulpit delivering the sermon. He stood erect; his wire-framed
glasses perched on his nose’s sharp peek. In his soft, imploring voice, he
called upon the village sinners to repent. Papa lay dead in
the adjoining cemetery beneath the marble cross erected in his memory. I wanted
him to come to life again and take his rightful place in the church. Only a
cruel society could rob the world of such a kind and loving soul. However, the
new vicar would replace, and Grey Friars would cease to mourn my devout Papa. I longed to
return home again, to run out to the gazebo and into Prentiss's open arms.
Behind my mind's eye, I envisioned a young girl in a white dress. Her golden
hair flew wild as she crossed the garden and tripped happily toward the
summerhouse. Tall and erect, my lover stood in the latticed opening and smiled.
The girl flew into his tender embrace, and they kissed. I sighed and
turned away from the window slit. I pressed my back against the stone wall and
clutched my hands against my throbbing breast. The young woman was not Norah
Chamberlain. Instead, she was the new vicar’s daughter. Bitter tears flooded my
swollen eyes. Oh, cruel life, I
silently railed. My mind raged against my shattered dreams. My happy world lay
in ruins"as dreadfully destroyed as the dilapidated von Helfin castle. A loud
sob caught in my throat and my knees buckled.
“Norah,” Mama
soothed, smoothing my hair from my forehead. She knelt on the floor beside me
and held my head in her lap. “I hate it here,
Mama,” I whispered furtively. “I want to go home. Papa…” “My dear, dear
child,” my mother murmured, comfortingly. “Papa can’t help us now. We must
endure here until we can find something better. I promise we won’t stay here
forever.” I wrapped my arms
around her. Burying my head against her shoulder, I felt like a child awakened
by a nightmare. She rocked me tenderly and spoke soothingly into my ear. I
loved her dearly, but"OH!"how I hated Romania. V The first
dreary day crept passed slowly. Mama and I remained in our turret apartment and
unpacked our trunks. One by one, I hung my pastel-colored dresses in the vast
wardrobe. The light cotton and dimity fabrics seemed out of place in the dank
castle. Nevertheless, my mother optimistically believed the light shades would
brighten our surroundings. "I'm
happy to put aside my widow's weeds," Mama announced cheerily. She swooped
into the room wearing a pale lavender damask. Standing before the cheval glass,
she adjusted the floral bonnet on her golden locks. "I feel sure the Baron
intends to entertain now that we've arrived. He'll want to introduce us to the
correct society." I wondered at
her optimism. From what we saw the previous night, it appeared as though no one
had visited the castle in years. Our surroundings did not depict a possible
social life. Nevertheless, Mama continued chatting about dinner parties and an
introductory ball in our honor.
"Mama," I finally broke in, exasperated. "I don't believe
Barons hold balls for newly arrived governesses. You're here to teach the
children, not to socialize." My mother
shifted her eyes toward me momentarily, then dismissed me quickly. Wrapped up
in her fantasy, she began rummaging through my wardrobe. Pulling out a pink
chiffon, she held it against me. "You were
to wear this gown to Amity Barstow's coming out ball," she sighed, tossing
the garment onto the bed. "How beautiful you would have looked with your
hair piled high. I planned to give you Grandmama's Spanish comb on that special
evening. Nevertheless, you can wear it when the Baron…" "The
Baron isn't going to present us, Mama," I snapped, grasping her arms. I
captured her startled blue eyes with my own and held them. "You're the
governess, Mama." "Oh, yes,
the governess," she murmured, returning to earth. "I must work on my
lesson plan." Absently, she drifted from my room into her own. I watched her
departure for a moment, then lifted the chiffon from my bed. I hung it in the
wardrobe and absently caressed the soft fabric. Squire Barstow's daughter,
Amity, attended the parish school until her sixteenth birthday. Then, she
attended finishing school in France for an additional two years. Somehow, Mama
had wrangled an invitation for me to attend her coming out ball. I closed the
wardrobe door and leaned against it. Amity and I were never on friendly terms,
although Mama constantly pushed us together. Haughty and spoiled, the older
girl disdained my position as the Vicar's daughter. When she realized my
parents intended marriage between the curate and me, she flirted unmercifully
with Prentiss. I realized he didn't interest her, and she only intended to
cause tension. I refused to
accept when the invitation arrived to attend the festivities announcing her
coming of age. Mama insisted upon engaging the local seamstress to create the
lovely gown. I realized I would never wear it now. Deep in
thought, I jumped in my skin when the door cracked open. Pushing it with her
back, Helga entered carrying a luncheon tray. She set it on the table near the
fire and turned to me. "Sorry to
startle you, Miss," the chambermaid stated, bobbing a curtsey. "It's
your lunch, Miss." "Ah,
yes," I responded dismissively. Absently, I lifted the cover. I frowned at
the stew and mashed potatoes. "'Tis
goulash, Miss," Helga softly stated. "Grandmama made it
specially."
"Grandmama?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows. "Mrs.
Balan, Miss," the maid stated. "She's my grandmama." "Is that
so?" I asked, without interest. "Oh, yes,
Miss," the girl continued, rocking on her heels. "My Mama ran away
with the Gypsies. She was pregnant with me, but my birth killed her. After, I
came to live with Grandmama." "Do you
like living here, Helga?" I fired my question rapidly. "Don't you
find it strange?"
"Strange?" my companion asked, backing toward the door.
"Why no, Miss. Tisn't strange here at all. Perhaps you're the one who's
strange, Miss." Hastily, Helga
scuttled through the door, slamming it behind her. I rushed after her,
propelling myself onto the landing. Catching the railing, I presented myself
from tumbling downward. Below, the echoing sound of fading footsteps clattered
on the fieldstone passageway. I shrugged and
returned to my room. Tentatively, I tasted the goulash. Although the moldy
taste remained, it did not appear as strongly as in the scones. I ate it along
with a loaf of crusty bread. When I finished, I stepped into Mama's room. Mama lay
across her bed, drowsing. I tiptoed close and peered down upon her. Deciding to
leave her to her rest, I moved away. "Don't
go, Norah," she called, rising. "I wanted
to leave you to your rest," I answered, turning to face her. "You
have a long night ahead of you." "Yes, I
suppose…" she began uncertainly. "Don't
you find it strange to teach children after midnight?" I queried, perching
on the bed's edge.
"Perhaps…" Mama hesitated again and worried her bottom lip
with her front teeth. "But…Oh, perhaps that's the way they do it in
Romania. Nevertheless, it's what the Baron wants, so we must comply." "I don't
like it here, Mama," I announced bluntly. "I want to go home." "This job
is essential to me, Norah," my mother stated, grasping my hands. "You
must understand. Why, we've only just arrived. You must adjust to your new
surroundings and accept that you are no longer in England. It's a different
culture. It's an opportunity to learn about how people live in different parts
of the world." "I don't
want to learn." Swooping from
the room, I slammed the door behind me. I re-entered my chamber and sat before
the fire. Mama joined me, and we spoke of our outward journey. We boarded the
Orient Express in Paris and journeyed through Strasburg, Munich, Vienna, and
Budapest. Finally, we alighted at the Romanian capital of Bucharest. From
there, we picked up a branch line to Bacova. Our travel
plans halted when we attempted to board the train that would eventually bring
us to von Helfin castle. The conductor adamantly refused to stop at the village
station. Nonplussed, Mama insisted upon calling the stationmaster. "The
Baron von Helfin awaits our arrival," my mother insisted. "My
daughter and I have traveled from England to take up a post there. The Baron
expects us." "Yes,
Madam, yes," the stationmaster agreed, nodding vigorously. "I have
the order right here." Turning to the conductor, he commanded his
compliance.
"But…" "Never
mind the buts," the conductor's supervisor exclaimed. "Stop the train
at Helfin and let these ladies off. The order is final."
"Absolutely, sir," the ticket collector stated, clicking his
heels. In due course,
the train halted at the small village, and we alighted. The one-eyed coachman
greeted us solemnly and loaded our baggage onto his conveyance. We sped up the
mountainous passage at a gallop, and the coachman unceremoniously dumped us within
the gates. "Why did
everyone seem frightened when we asked to come here, Mama?" I eventually
asked. "It's as though they feared something…or someone." Before my
parent could respond, Baron von Helfin appeared in the doorway suddenly. I gasped
and sank back against my chair. Mama rose hastily and, taking his arm, bid me a
pleasant goodnight. I shuddered as I watched her retreating back. I did not
want her to leave with the ominous Baron. Rising, I
raced into the rotunda and clattered down the spiral staircase after her. She
vanished as I reached the bottom, and the door slammed closed. The sound echoed
through the round vestibule. I grasped the ornate brass handle and pushed.
"Locked," I muttered, aghast. Throughout the overnight hours,
I would remain imprisoned within the castle turret. I sighed and began the
climb upward to my bed chamber. The feeling of
being watched straightened my back as I reached the doorway. Furtively, I
glanced about and searched for the unobserved figure. I squinted against the
penetrating dark but did not see anyone lingering nearby.
"Hello," I called nervously. My voice trembled slightly.
"Hello?" No response. I
looked about again. Then, gazing upward, I saw the bat. Its beady red eyes
seemed to penetrate my skin as it hung upside down from the rafters. I swept
open my door and entered hastily. Leaning against the thick oaken ingress, I
gnawed my lower lip. I cracked the
door and looked up at the bat again. Something about those eyes seemed vaguely
familiar. It appeared to wink at me. I re-slammed the door and moved away from
it quickly. The uneasy
night crept past. Hour after hour, I awaited Mama's return. I would not feel
comforted until she entered the chamber. Finally, I slept fitfully and awoke
when the door creaked open in the morning. Mama entered
along with dawn's first fingers of sunlight. Ashen, she stood with her back
pressed against the closed door. She quickly threw the locking bar in place and
advanced toward the bed. Hastily, I
propped my pillows behind me and sat up. Mama perched at the edge of the bed
and soothed my hair gently. I leaned my head against her shoulder and stared at
her quizzically.
"Norah," she whispered my name tremulously. "Whatever's
the matter, Mama?" I asked, alarmed. "You must
promise me, my sweet, to never leave this chamber after dark," she
adamantly insisted. "Never, never leave." "Ye-yes,
Mama," I conceded weakly. "Lock the
door and never allow anyone inside," she continued. "Ye-yes,
Mama." I shuddered,
imagining my mother teaching the Baron's children in that dreadful cellar
nursery. If they roamed the castle during the overnight hours, I did not wish
to encounter them. I had no intention of wandering into the eerie corridors
after dark. VI Mama awoke
when the last rays of sunlight crept through the window slit. She arrived in
her bedroom at dawn and slept throughout the day. Fresh as a dewed flower, she
rose with the moon. Carefully, she dressed in a light morning gown and primped
before the cheval glass. I watched her suspiciously from the adjoining door. My
mother made a great effort with her appearance considering her position as the
children's governess. When Baron von
Helfin arrived at midnight to escort her to the nursery, Mama smiled brightly.
He offered his arm, and she placed her small palm on his elbow. Slowly, they
descended the spiral staircase. Their light chatter echoed throughout the round
turret. Mama giggled at a remark I could not hear and leaned her head closer to
her companion's shoulder. Returning to
Mama's bed chamber, I caught a whiff of her lavender cologne. I picked up the
atomizer from her vanity table and sniffed it. I studied her cosmetics and the
costume jewelry she left scattered across the flat surface. 'Curious,' I
thought to myself. I re-entered
my room and read the note Mama left on the table. It contained my daily
lessons. I tucked it into my history book, ready for the morning. The
assignments followed the same methods Prentiss Wills utilized at home. I could
complete them with ease. Slowly, I
prepared for bed. My thoughts flew to Mama teaching the children in the dank
underground nursery. Although I never saw her pupils, she spoke glowingly of
them. It seemed, at times, that she grew more attached to them than to her
daughter. "Vlad
puts great effort into learning his lessons," my mother explained one
evening. "He longs to impress his father. He is adept at languages. His
Latin is superb, and his English has improved greatly since my arrival." Latin!"I
sighed, recalling the hours I spent with Prentiss repeating verb conjugations.
The curate prompted me to continue until my tongue tripped over the lists and
my head throbbed uncontrollably. "I'm
never going to use this in my entire life!" I insisted, stamping my foot
on the floor. "No one speaks Latin anymore." I stumbled
from the schoolroom, my skirts, and petticoats twisting around my ankles. I
tripped on the carpet and righted myself. Propelling myself outside, I rushed
for the gazebo and sank on the rounded bench.
"Norah," Prentiss whispered, sitting beside me and taking my
hands. "I'm sick
of it, Prentiss," I exclaimed vehemently. "Sick of Latin. Sick of
repeating the same verbs again and again. It's useless. I'll never learn." No, I'll never
learn, but Vlad would. Perfect Vlad"the Baron's son. I thought of his ashen
face with its prim scarlet mouth forming Latin verbs. Mama's bright eyes shone
when she spoke of his achievements. "The
Baron shows great pride in his children," my parent continued. "He
says I have made huge strides with them during my short time as their
governess. He is pleased with the results." Indeed, the
results satisfied her. Mama gloated over her success as a governess. I stared
at the ceiling, jealousy raging beneath the surface of a placid expression. She
rarely complimented my work. Diligently, I bent over my assignments. I
completed them efficiently and left the stacked papers on her bureau. During
the weeks since our arrival at the castle, they piled up. I did not know if she
had corrected them. She remained wrapped up in the von Helfin children's
accomplishments. "The
Baron suggested you join the youngster in their lessons," Mama stated one
evening. I stared at
her, aghast. I preferred studying in my bed chamber. The dank cellar room
frightened me. I would suffocate if forced to spend time beneath the earth's
surface. "I will
remain above ground, Mama," I snapped, "if you don't mind." "Have it
your way, Norah," my mother sighed. She regarded me briefly, then
continued, "Luiza is a fine girl; she's only a few years younger than you.
I thought, perhaps, you two might become friends. She has a sweet voice. You
could harmonize…" "Thank you,
Mama, but no," I responded swiftly. "Vanda
could use help with her grammar…"
"Mama!" I shouted, losing my patience. "I'm not
interested in the von Helfin children. I'm not interested in that horrid
nursery. Please, leave me out of your plans." "You
don't have to take that attitude, Norah," my mother chastised. She hastily
plunked onto my bed and covered her face with her hands. I stood above
her, unmoved by her sudden outburst. I would have felt more sympathetic if she
paid attention to me instead of extolling the children's virtues. Day after
day, I remained in the turret chamber, studying. She rarely complimented my
efforts. Instead, she spoke about Vlad, Luiza, and Vanda. I began to think they
were more like her children than me. "I don't
enjoy teaching under these circumstances either, Norah," Mama finally stated.
"I spoke to the Baron about opening the nursery on the fourth floor. It
contains a marvelously huge window that allows plenty of sunlight. He refused.
"Furthermore, I recommended long rides in the countryside,"
she continued, nonplussed. "A day out in the warm sunshine would do
wonders for the youngsters. I told him it would put roses on their cheeks. I
swear he hissed at me." Finally, I sat
beside my mother and grasped her hands. Often, Squire Barstow allowed Prentiss
and me the use of his stables. Blissfully, we cantered across the moors and
frequently into the lake district. Amity repeatedly chased after us, and we
reluctantly permitted her company. Much to my annoyance, she flirted openly
with the curate and pushed her horse between us when we rode side-by-side. I sighed,
wishing for those days again. My English life seemed to fade in my memory. Day
after day, I remained trapped in the unforgiving castle. I would give
everything I owned for another afternoon meandering along the country lanes. "The
Baron permits short rides along those treacherous mountain passes," Mama
exclaimed, "only after the moon sets." She clenched her fists and
grimaced. "How
strange," I muttered.
"Indeed." ****** The monotonous
days caught up to me. For two long months, I remained confined in the castle
turret. I saw Mama infrequently. Helga brought my meals promptly. Occasionally
I spoke to her. However, if she lingered too long, Mrs. Balan appeared to scold
her. "I can't
bear this any longer," I suddenly exclaimed. I stared at my lunch tray
with disgust. "Goulash…again!" Disdainfully, I pushed the tray aside. "I'm
sorry, Miss," the maid responded demurely. "Grandmama…" "I don't
give one whit about Grandmama," I retorted angrily. "I'm tired of
goulash, this turret, and von Helfin. Tired! Tired! Tired!" Helga stared
at me flabbergasted. Then, snatching up the tray, she fled. The door slammed
behind her, and her footsteps echoed in the rotunda. I sank into my chair and
covered my face with my hands. I sobbed.
"Miss," a soft voice whispered. "Miss." I glanced up
at the maid and wiped my eyes. I did not want her to see me cry. "Come
with me, Miss," Helga invited, stretching out her hand. Bewildered, I
stared at her outstretched palm for a moment. Helga continued to offer it, and
I finally grasped it. I rose and followed her downstairs. "Von
Helfin castle was built during the eleventh century," my guide explained. We stood in
the grand hall with its swooping staircase and medieval weaponry gracing the
walls. Although the furnishings lay in ruins, Helga did not appear to notice.
Next, we entered the dining room. The vast table lay broken in half in the
midst of the room. Along the walls, the ancient benches lay scattered. Cobwebs
draped the elk antler chandelier. Helga led me
through a dank passage into the vast medieval kitchen. A huge cauldron bubbled
over a roaring fire. Wiping sweat from her brow, Mrs. Balan stirred it. My
companion pressed her forefinger against her lips and waved me onward. We
tiptoed across the flagstone floor and exited into an overgrown courtyard. Godoired
Cazacu knelt before a weed-tangled flowerbed with a hand trough. Shushing me
again, Helga crept behind him and raised her foot. Aghast, I pulled her away
before she connected with his upraised derriere. "What did
you do that for?" the maid demanded, swooping on me. "It was
cruel!" I declared angrily. Spinning on my
heels, I rushed toward a set of French doors. I entered the parlor we occupied
the night we arrived. Noticing the harpsichord in the corner, I approached it
and ran my fingers over the keys. Tentatively, I sat and began to play. As the music
swirled around me, von Helfin's castle faded into the background. I floated
miles away.
"Miss," Helga finally interrupted me. "Tis late, Miss.
Twill get dark soon." I stared at
the maid for a moment, blinking my eyes rapidly. A light mist entered the dark
room, and I shivered. Rising, I closed the harpsichord and noticed the bat
hanging in the corner. Its red beady eyes penetrated mine. I gasped. It
appeared more malevolent than the one I encountered in the turret. Frightened,
I raced from the parlor. My rapid heart
continued to beat when I entered my bedroom. Mama stepped in from her chamber
and stared at me in astonishment. Then, her dower expression broke into a wide
smile. "Did I
hear harpsichord music?" she asked, advancing toward me. "Yes, I
played it in the parlor," I answered. "It's tuned to perfection.
I…" I paused, then suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, Mama, there was a bat. It
watched me so intently. I…I thought for a moment… Its eyes…so eerie." "Did it
frighten you, my love?" Mama suddenly enfolded me in her arms. I nodded
against her warm bosom and snuggled in close. "Never
mind," she continued to soothe. "I'll speak to Nicolai about it this
evening."
"Nicolai?" I asked, glancing up at her. The name seemed unfamiliar. "The
Baron," my mother explained with a slight giggle. "He asked me to
call him by his given name. He calls me Bella in his quaint Romanian
accent." I looked at
her again quizzically. No one other than Papa called her Bella. How dare the
Baron make such an assumption! Rage suddenly flared in my mind. That horrid man
could never replace my beloved father. Yet, I felt he penetrated further into
my mother's life than a mere employer. "Nicolai
is kindness personified," Mama continued despite my wall of silence.
"You'll get to know him quite well, I expect. Just give him time." My mind
hardened against the Baron as fear gripped my heart. I studied Mama intently.
Her skin appeared more shallow than usual. A faint peach glow rose on her
cheeks, and the scarlet shade of her lips deepened. Finally, I noticed the two
red punctures on her neck beneath her earlobe. "Mama,
you've hurt yourself," I gasped, my fingers lightly touching the marks. "It's
nothing, sweetheart," she sighed. She adjusted the lace at her collar
hastily to hide the imperfection. "Just a minor scratch. I probably caught
it with my fingernail." I shrank away
from her and began to protest. However, before I could speak, the chamber door
swung open. The Baron leaned in the frame and ogled me contemporaneously. I
gasped as his sullen eyes met mine. How familiar they seemed, but, naturally,
they could not belong to the bat in the parlor. "Did you
hear Norah playing the harpsichord this afternoon, Nicolai dear?" Mama
exclaimed, weaving her arm through the Baron's elbow. She pressed herself
against his side. "Ah, so,
your daughter is as talented as she is beautiful," von Helfin declared,
his lips twitching with amusement. "You may continue to play if you so
desire. A little music in the daytime helps a man relax." During my tour
with Helga, we did not glimpse the Baron or his children. Mrs. Balan and
Godoired kept busy with their duties. Otherwise, no signs of life appeared
within the castle. I slanted my eyes toward our host, wondering what he did
during the daytime. "Shall we
give the children the night off, Bella, my dear?" the Baron questioned as
they drifted onto the landing. "We shall take a ride along the ridge in
the moonlight." "Certainly,"
Mama replied, "we shall." She giggled lightly. A few moments
later, the sound of the horse's hooves reverberated in the courtyard below. I
pressed my eye against the window slit and watched Mama and the Baron canter
across the ridge. The enormous black horses appeared fierce, and Mama struggled
to control her mount. However, she
kept pace with her companion, and soon, they vanished from sight. I watched
them disappear, dumbfounded. "Oh,
Mama," I sighed in trepidation. VII Mama slipped
further from my life with each passing month. Her nightly activities left her
drained in the morning. Occasionally, she stumbled into my room and nibbled on
a piece of breakfast toast. The children's antics filled her conversation.
Smoldering with resented, I listened to her in silence. "Vanda
reminds me of you at her age," my mother stated, oblivious to my growing
jealousy. "She drew the most charming picture of her Papa and me last
night." Hustling into
her bedroom, Mama returned with a rolled parchment. She spread it on the bed
and smiled upon it fondly. Angry black coal scribbles filled the page. I ogled
it, time stretching out intermittently. I could not discern any figures
resembling humans. "Mama,
I…" I lifted the parchment and turned it on another angle. Still, nothing
popped out at me. "Vanda
shows great talent, does she not?" "I…"
I stuttered, at a complete loss. "I…I don't know what to say."
Slowly, I re-rolled the drawing and handed it back to my mother. Mama stared at
me blankly for a moment. She began extorting the children's virtues again, but
I turned my back on her. Then, abruptly spinning on her heels, she exited the
room. While she slept the day away, I addressed my history assignment. Stonehenge"a
prehistoric monument"stands on Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, I read. Tears
welled in my eyes. Vividly, I recalled the holiday we spent in the South of
England many years ago. Papa loved visiting historical sites. He believed
studying ancient monuments meant seeing them up close. "Did the
Pagans really sacrifice to their gods here?" I remembered asking. Slowly,
I turned in a circle and gazed upon the massive sarsen stones topped with their
heavy lintels. The entire structure seemed imposing to a five-year-old girl. "We don't
know for sure, love," my father explained, squatting beside me.
"History holds many mysteries that we are yet to unravel. It makes our
past a fascinating subject." "Are we
going to stand here all day, Mill?" Mama burst into our explorations.
"The noon hour is drawing close. I want to return to London before the
shops close." "In a
moment, my dearest," Papa called back. "Norah has asked a question,
and I wish to answer it fully." "She's a
five-year-old child, Millard," Mama sharply declared, "not an Oxford
scholar." "We'll
come along shortly, Bella," Papa jovially called back. Turning to me, he
continued his description of Stonehenge. "Now,
Millard!" Mama stood on the edge of the ruined circle impatiently. "Yes,
dear," my father meekly remarked. Bowing his head, he followed her from
the field. I trotted along behind, my short legs hurrying to keep up. The memory
remained fresh in my mind as I stared down at the pencil drawing in my history
book. Did the Pagans really sacrifice to their gods at Stonehenge? I whispered
to myself. A tear unexpectedly dropped upon the page, smearing the picture.
Hastily, I closed the book and stared at it blankly. I wanted Papa.
I longed for Grey Friar's Vicarage and the happy days of my youth. If only I
could sit on his knee again and listen to him read from his history books.
Unlike Mama, I longed to learn about ancient times. I always resented her
interruption that day on the Salisbury Plain. I left my
books and wandered into the adjoining bed chamber. My mother sprawled across
the massive bed in a deep sleep. How pale her skin appeared against the scarlet
counterpane. Momentarily, I hovered above her. She looked so different than
when we first arrived. Her vitality seemed to disappear overnight. Cautiously, I
sat beside her and swept a blonde lock away from her neck. The pinpricks I
noticed previously stood out against her jugular vein. Hurriedly, I located
Mama's cosmetic bag and found an antiseptic. Tenderly, I cleansed the angry,
infected wounds.
"Norah," Mama mumbled sleepily. "Lie
still, Mama," I ordered gently. "Your scratches are festering. I'm
applying an antiseptic." "Leave it
alone, Norah." Briskly sitting up, Mama removed the antiseptic from my
hand and set it aside. Tenderly, she touched the marks and muttered the Baron's
name. I stared at
her dumbfounded. She caressed the wounds, her eyes filled with a strange love. "Did the
Baron do this to you?" I asked, grasping her icy hands. "Has he
touched you? Has he taken advantage of you?" I fired my questions rapidly. My mother
stared at me for a long, defiant moment. Then, she sank against her pillow in a
sullen repose. "The
Baron and I are both adults, Norah," she demurely stated. "We can act
as we please." Mama's
behavior toward Baron von Helfin startled me. Where did they go, and why wasn't
she teaching the children? Several times, I had seen them riding across the
mountain peak. I gazed down
upon her miserably. My heart raced, and I balled my hands into fists. "I want
to go home!" I finally wailed. "I want Gray Friar's Vicarage and
Prentiss." A lump built up in my throat, and I swallowed it. "I want
Papa!" "Papa's
dead, my sweet," Mama stated emotionlessly. "This is our home now.
The Baron and I…" "It is not our home!" I flared, my
cheeks burning with rage. "England is our home. We don't belong
here." "This is
our home." The stark tone
of my mother's voice startled me. Her usually soft eyes turned hard as stone,
the blue pupils like orbs of ice. Her lips twisted into an angry frown. "You may
leave me, Norah." Mama dismissed me with an impertinent wave. Sinking into
her pillows, she averted her face and fell into a deep slumber. I watched her
for several moments before returning to my chamber. Spreading my books across
the small table, I fell into a brown study. Helga appeared with my luncheon,
but I waved her away. The day passed slowly. Shortly before
midnight, I heard the Baron knock at Mama's door. I cracked mine open and watched
them descend the turret staircase. My shoulders sank as I closed the door and
leaned against it. A deep
depression settled upon me. Slowly, I undressed and pulled my flannelette
nightie over my head. I lay on the bed and stared at the emerald curtains.
Faint moonlight filtered through the window slit casting a path across the
carpet. Falling into a dream, I walked along the moonbeam. Prentiss Wills stood
at the end, his arms open wide. I ran into them. Then, a loud fist rapping
against wood brought me back to reality. Still wrapped
in my fantasy, I drifted toward the door. I swung it open, expecting to find
Prentiss. Instead, the Baron's ward strode in. Taken aback, I
gasped. Ranulf swept a deep bow and addressed me in lisping English. At first,
I did not understand his words. He repeated them. "The
Baron"my uncle"requests your presence," he stated, clicking his heels
together. "Immediately."
"Immediately?" I questioned imperiously. "At this hour?
Whatever for?" "He said immediately,"
Ranulf responded, offering his arm. I glared at
his outstretched elbow disdainfully. His soft, imploring eyes met mine.
Stepping back, I grasped the bed curtain and clung to it. The Baron's nephew
moved closer and reached out with his hand. "You must
hurry," Ranulf stated. "Uncle has requested both of us." I hesitated
momentarily. Something about the nephew attracted me. His dark eyes seemed to
melt as he looked at me. His red mouth twitched as though to form a smile.
Tentatively, I reached out to take his hand. Then, I froze. "I
refuse," I remarked coolly. Hastily, I folded my arms beneath my breasts
and sucked in my breath. "You
cannot refuse." A perplexed look crossed the nephew's face. Indeed no one
ever refused an order from the Baron. However, I intended to hold my ground. "I
refuse," I briskly repeated. "You may leave my chamber. I do not wish
to remain alone with you under these circumstances." Ranulf
hesitated momentarily. His sultry eyes took in my nightdress and the
turned-down bed. Crimson flamed into his cheeks. Clicking his heels, he bowed
deeply at the waist and spun around. The door banged closed behind him. Inadvertently,
a giggle escaped my lips. Plunking onto the bed, I covered my face with my
hands and rocked with hysteria. Poor Ranulf, I thought. I mistreated him. When I finally
fell asleep again, the moonbeam dream repeated itself. However, instead of
Prentiss, Ranulf awaited me. I gasped and bolted into a sitting position. Mama stood at the bed's foot, glaring down
at me. Her angry expression told its own story. "When the
Baron summons you, you arrive," she snapped irritably. "Where were
you?" "I was
asleep in my bed," I hissed, "where I belong." My mother continued
to hover above me. Her unattended hair hung in corkscrews, framing her haggard
face. Abruptly, I pushed my pillow behind me and sat up straighter. She wore a
skimpy black dress with a plunging neckline and a black veil. In her hands, she
grasped a bouquet of wilted roses. I could not recall her possessing such a
horrid outfit. "What
happened, Mama?" I finally asked, dreading her response. "Why did the
Baron summon me after midnight?" "Oh,
Norah, the most wonderful thing…" Mama crumbled
like a ragdoll and sprawled across my bed. She curled into a ball, hugging
herself, and rolled about like a child. A delighted expression crossed her face
as she gazed upwards into the emerald bed hangings. "All my
fantasies have come true," she muttered dreamily. Hastily, I
leaped from the bed and clung to the bedpost in alarm. I feared for Mama's
sanity. Her eyes took on a wild cast, and a hideous cackle escaped her twisted
lips. "I have finally escaped that drafty old
vicarage and your pompous father," she cruelly stated. "Oh, how I
hated all those dull sermons and that dreadful fate. I'm free, Norah, finally
and irrevocably free." I cringed at
her dreadful, mocking words. All my life, I believed she loved Papa. Her ideal
life in the vicarage seemed complete. Gazing down upon her, I viewed her
differently. The cutting remarks she used to make took on new meaning. I began
to chastise her; then, I noticed the new ring on her finger. Hastily, I sat
on the bed and grasped her hand. A thick golden band connected by the head and
tail of a snake replaced my father's wedding ring. I froze, the meaning
catching me off-guard. The reason for the midnight summons became crystal clear.
Hot tears clung to my eyelashes. "You have
guessed correctly, my little love," Mama exclaimed, sneering maliciously.
"Nicolai and I wed last night beneath the blood moon." The door swung
open as she spoke, and the Baron nonchalantly leaned in the opening. His smile
widened, showing the tips of his sharp canines. Mama rose and enfolded herself
in his arms. She smiled up at him, and he kissed the tip of her nose. "Aren't
you going to greet your new Papa?" von Helfin questioned smoothly. He extended
his arm and waved me into their embrace. Suddenly, I
broke into the most horrendous laughter. It welled inside my chest like a
balloon and ululated with the wild abandon of an African hyena. Losing all
control, I grasped the bedpost, and my knees buckled. The outlandish hilarity
continued to echo throughout the chamber until I suddenly hiccupped. Then, my
tears let loose. I wept with equal abandon. Shriek upon
shriek filled the air around me. For a moment, I thought Mama made the gruesome
noise. She stood above me, gazing upon me pitifully. I met her softened eyes
momentarily and realized the screams originated with me. Gasping, I tried to
hold onto the last shreds of sanity and failed.
"Isabella?" the Baron prompted, placing his arm comforting
around her. "We must depart quickly. Our honeymoon…" "Yes, of
course, Nicolai," Mama murmured, casting one last glance in my direction. I reached out
my arms to her in a last attempt at succor. Nevertheless, my mother gyrated
toward her new husband. She stepped into his embrace and turned her back upon
me as though in a trance. Instantly, I felt lost and abandoned. Heartbroken, I
fell into a faint. I awoke with
the first sunbeams of the morning. Mrs. Balan hovered beside my bed and offered
a mug of broth. At first, I refused it, but she insisted. Grasping the cup, I
sipped the steaming liquid. Helga peeked out from behind her full skirt, her
expression expectant. "My
mother…?" I whispered, hoping I dreamed of the night's adventure. "She will
return shortly," the housekeeper assured me. "The Baron has taken her
away to the hunting lodge. They will spend their honeymoon there in
seclusion."
"Oh." I sank against my pillow, filled with disappointment. "You must
rest for the day," Mrs. Balan prescribed, her voice expressionless.
"You'll feel much better tomorrow." Helga plopped
onto the bed and insisted she would remain with me. However, her grandmother
grabbed her arm and pulled her away. I watched them depart through hazy eyes.
The broth made me sleepy, and the room began to whirl. I rested my aching head
on the pillow, and the world drifted away. VIII A feeling of
dread ripped me from my slumbers. A finger of moonlight pointed across the
carpet from the turret slit. I sat up and pulled the bedcovers to my chin.
Swiftly, I surveyed the room. I felt as though I were not alone. Then, I saw
the creature. Hanging upside
down from the bed curtains, a huge black bat ogled me. Its beady red eyes
seemed to glow in the shadowed corner. I pulled myself to my knees and
shrieked. "Get out
of here!" I yelled frantically. Grabbing my
pillow, I began beating at the dreadful mammal. I rose to my knees and battered
it, screaming like a banshee. Its wings began to beat briskly, and it suddenly
flew into my face. I flared at it with my arms and finally connected. The bat
spiraled against the wall and landed, with a thud, on the floor. I leaped out
of bed and stared at the abominable beast. The black body convulsed, and its
wings beat on the floor. My heart pounded as I bent to examine it closely.
Fearing I harmed it, I prodded it with my toe. Abruptly, the bat rose and
swooped through the open slit. I ran after it and, halting at the window,
watched it fly into a nearby tree. England seemed
a million miles away, in a different world. Hugging myself, I tentatively sat
on the edge of the bed. Since Mama returned from her honeymoon, I rarely saw
her. She no longer occupied the other turret bed chamber. Occasionally, I saw
her wraithlike form slip along the ghastly corridors. However, when I chased
her, she vanished. I longed to speak to my mother, to share
confidences with her. Due to her neglect, I fell behind in my studies. Day
after day, I roamed the castle corridors. The abandoned bedrooms remained
unkempt, leaving me to wonder where the Baron and his family slept. When the sun
set, I returned to the turret. As soon as I mounted the spiral stairway, I
heard the bolt slam into place. From sunset to dawn, I remained a prisoner in
the tower. In the morning, Helga, carrying my breakfast tray, unlocked the
door. "Ranulf
has a horrible lump on his forehead," the chambermaid gossiped.
"Grandmama put ice on it." She giggled. "Women trouble, she
suspects." My heart
fluttered at the nephew's name, then it sank. I imagined him carousing in the
nearby village inn late at night. I decided that a handsome young man like
Ranulf must have a love interest. Absently, I
lifted the cover on my breakfast plate and stared at the eggs and sausage. My
appetite fled as my jealousy rose. Forcefully, I pushed my thoughts concerning
the Baron's nephew aside. Closing my eyes, I recalled an image of Prentiss
Wills. I had to find a way to return to England and continue my relationship
with him. Ranulf remained out of my grasp; I had no right to consider him. "Take
this away," I commanded sharply. Lifting the tray, I shoved it into
Helga's arms. "But,
Miss," the maid exclaimed. "No, but
Miss," I responded snappishly. "I said I do not want it." Hugging
myself, I turned away and stared into the smoldering fire. The thought of
Ranulf with another woman disturbed me. A tear clung to my lashes, and I dashed
it away. "I told
you to go," I declared, spinning back to the chambermaid. Helga
continued to stand in the midst of the room as though rooted to the spot. She
clung to the dining tray. I took a step toward her, and she flew from the room.
The door banged behind her.
"Stupid," I chastised myself. I sat on the bed, staring in
front of me. Finally, I rose and, wrapping my plaid wool shawl around my shoulders,
plodded downstairs. The crisp
autumn air struck me when I entered the castle courtyard. A high stone wall
enclosed the dismal area. A withered ornamental cherry tree hovered in the east
corner, and the hedges remained bare of leaves or color. On the opposite side,
a dilapidated arbor stood crookedly amongst them. I sat on the bench and stared
despondently at the broken fountain in the center. My emotions
chased themselves around and around in my head. I fought to dismiss them. "Get a
hold of yourself," I upbraided my thoughts. Standing, I
drifted absently toward the cherry tree. Its poor black branches dipped toward
the earth dejectedly. I twisted a small branch until it snapped off in my
hands. Death seemed to prevail in von Helfin castle's nooks and crannies.
Inside and outside, every object appeared neglected"unloved--including the
inhabitants. Yet, Mama must have fallen in love with the Baron for her to marry
him suddenly. I had to
remain faithful to Prentiss, I decided. If I focused solely on him, I felt I
could connect with him. I clung to him, depended upon him. I applied pressure
to my brain and telepathically sent out a mental distress call. "We're
connected, heart and soul, Norah," I recalled the curate telling me.
Together, we stood in the white gazebo at the bottom of the vicarage garden.
Prentiss grasped my hands and pulled me close. He kissed my forehead tenderly.
"If you ever need me, call me with your mind, and I will come to
you." I needed him
and focused my thoughts on him with all my strength. Behind me, a branch
snapped. I spun around, expecting to see my father's assistant. Instead, Helga
stood shyly at a distance. "What do
you want?" I snapped fiercely. "I want
your friendship," the waiflike girl stuttered. Clasping her hands behind
her back, she rocked on her heels. For a moment,
I ogled the maid. Then, my heart softened. Mama's absence left a huge gap in my
life. Without her, I had no one to talk to, no one to share my secrets. I did
not particularly like Helga. Her attitude toward the deaf-mute handyman
disturbed me. As I thought of Godoired Cazacu, he trundled past, pushing a
wheelbarrow. My companion's eyes narrowed suspiciously. However, I wove my
elbow through hers and strolled toward the garden's opposite end. "Tell me
about England?" Helga asked keenly. In hushed
tones, I spoke of my old home. Weaving my words, I described autumn apples and
hedge roses, the lanes Prentiss and I rode over on our borrowed horses and galloping
across vast open fields. Helga listened avidly to my description of London
shops and Hyde Park in the springtime. "During
the summer, Papa planned excursions to historic places," I stated
enthusiastically. "We visited Stonehenge, Bath, and Stratford upon
Avon--Shakespeare's birthplace. I've walked upon Hadrian's Wall and visited
Loch Laven Castle where Mary Queen of Scots lay imprisoned." "You have
seen many places," Helga remarked enviously. "I wish I could go
there. I have never left von Helfin." I stopped
short and stared at my new friend. I could not imagine spending day upon day in
the ominous castle precincts. A desperate yearning filled me to fly away,
return to England, and never see the horrible place again. "If you
could run away," Helga began wistfully, "would you take me with
you?" "If I
could run away…" I repeated dreamily. Escape!"the word flashed in my mind,
its letters a bold red. I halted and dug my toes between the cobbles. If only…
"Oh, yes, Helga, you could come with me." Spinning, I
grasped my new friend's hands and danced with her in a circle. Perhaps Helga
knew an escape route; maybe she could assist me. Halting my impromptu
celebration, I grabbed her hand and dragged her to the arbor seat. "How far
away is the village?" I demanded, grinning wildly. "Can we walk the
distance?"
Surreptitiously, I cast my eyes toward the craggy descent. Far below,
the tiny hamlet crouched amongst the forest overgrowth. Although I could not
locate it, I knew it lay nearby. I had enough money saved to purchase a train
ticket, maybe two. My thoughts
whirled in anticipation of leaving von Helfin far behind. Then, an image of
Mama sprang up behind my mind's eye. I could not run away and leave her. If I
escaped, I had to take her with me. However, since her marriage, Mama clung to
the Baron as a drowning person would to a life raft. Her adoring eyes followed
his every movement. I determined I had to separate the newly married couple. If
I spoke with Mama reasonably, I could convince her to return to England with
me. Oh, how my
gentle mother changed since our arrival in Romania! She became an altogether different
person beneath the terrifying grip of Baron von Helfin. Time and again, I
wished to shake her awake from the dreadful nightmare that enraptured her.
"Norah!" Helga gripped my sleeve and tugged hard. Abruptly
pulling away from my idyllic visions, I refocused on my companion. An urgent
expression crossed her face. "The sun,
Norah, the sun," the chambermaid gasped, pointing toward the western
horizon. The last
remnants of the scarlet sun peeked between the jagged tree line beneath us.
Clammy perspiration covered my skin, and, swiveling, I ran. I bolted toward the
heavy oaken door--my shoes beating a staccato against the cobblestones. The door to
the turret stairway seemed miles away. The ancient hinges squealed their displeasure
but yielded to my tug. Rushing inside, I tripped over the threshold and
stumbled on an upraised flagstone. I righted myself and plunged toward the
curving stairway. Gaining the ancient gallery, I rushed past portraits of
long-dead von Helfin family members. Their images blurred with my passing. As I reached
the egress into the tower, a black figure emerged from the shadows. I halted,
my heart pounding wildly in my chest. In the fading light, the shape stepped
forward. I gasped. Swiftly, Ranulf
blocked my passage. His thin lips spread into a crimson smile. Reflected in the
final glimmer of daylight, I noticed the elongation of his sharp canines.
Grasping my shoulders, he drew me against his chest. Then, hovering above me,
he leaned toward my exposed neck. IX The putrid
scent of death filled my nostrils. My throat constricted, and I gagged, unable
to control my reaction. Undeterred, the Baron's nephew strengthened his grip.
The prick of his sharp teeth broke the tender skin of my neck. Frantically, my
tiny, tightened fists beat upon his rigid back. My posture
slackened, and I felt my life drain away. I focused on Ranulf's ear. Its tip
ended in a sharp point. Wisps of unruly black hair hung over his smooth white
forehead. Squirming feverishly against his firm grip, I struggled for release.
His head bent deeper into my neck, and I felt a trickle of blood flow beneath
my collar. Then, I recalled Papa's advice if a man accosted me. I raised my
knee and positioned it between the crook of his legs.
"Ranulf!" Baron von Helfin's sharp voice reverberated around
the eerie corridor. My attacker's
form dissipated in the swirl of his black opera cape. High in a cobwebbed
corner, a solemn bat stared down upon the frightening scene. Its glowing red
eyes blinked as though startled by the commotion. My ill-used
body collapsed, and I slid down the wall. Squatting, the Baron gently placed
his arms beneath my shoulders and knees. Lifting me quickly, he carried me into
a nearby chamber and put me upon an antique Davenport. Mama perched beside me
and encircled my body with her outstretched arm. I buried my head in her
comforting bosom and inhaled her sweet lavender scent. "My
deepest apologies, Bella, my dear," Niculai von Helfin politely stated.
"Norah is off-limits to Ranulf. Time and again, I have made it abundantly
clear. It will never happen again; I promise." Mama hesitated
momentarily. Her cool hand soothed my brow, and she smiled upon me tenderly. In
my heart of hearts, I longed for her indignation. Indeed we could not remain in
the castle following such a heinous act. Nevertheless, her anxious pallid
expression softened. She smiled at her husband, accepting his assurances
dutifully.
"Youngblood flows hotly," Mama demurely stated. Then, her lips
twitched merrily as though she suddenly realized a joke. "Ah, yes,
young blood," the Baron stated seductively. His thick Romanian accent
emphasized each word. Mama's
laughter deepened despite the circumstances. Rising, she threaded her hand
through her husband's elbow and leaned against his chest. Methodically, step by
step, they departed. Horrified, I gaped at their retreating backs. Alone, I
grappled with my mother's calm withdrawal. I vividly recalled running to her
with scraped knees and elbows. Mama soothed my childhood tears with butterfly
kisses and bandaged my minor wounds. "All
better?" Mama consistently inquired on such occasions. "Yes,
Mama," my younger self responded. I smiled and skipped off to rejoin my
village friends. Since our
arrival in Romania, Mama changed. I called her 'The Baron's Puppet' when my
anger against her flared. She constantly clung to him and demurely obeyed his
wishes. In the past, she sharply rebuked Papa, called him a prude, and often
refused his smallest request. I could not understand her abrupt change of
attitude. I brooded in
the isolated bedroom for ages before I finally rose. Sluggishly, I climbed the
turret. A cold chill swept through my chamber, and I hugged myself against it.
On the table, a solitary candle glowed dimly. It provided little light or
warmth. The fire lay
untended. I squatted before it and lit the crumpled paper with the candle
flame. When it began to blaze, I sat in my chair and watched the orange sparks
dance up the chimney. A faint mist crept in, encircling the furnishings. A solitary
tear formed and clung to my eyelash. Frustrated, I dashed it away. Then, one by
one, others trailed down my cheeks and dripped from my chin. Forlornly, I
stared into the fire without seeing it. My jagged
thoughts flittered from Mama to Ranulf. My fantasies led me to consider the
Baron's nephew a romantic figure. Until the earlier incident, I had not
entirely made his acquaintance. However, he often appeared in my wayward
thoughts. I fingered the
tiny puncture marks on my neck. Two delicate scabs formed over them. The tip of
my nails loosened them, and my blood flowed again.
"Drat!" I exclaimed peevishly. I dabbed at the punctures with
my handkerchief and stared at the red smears with disgust. Impulsively, I threw
the lacy fabric square into the fire. Rising, I
drifted toward my bed. Two beady eyes stared in at me from the window slit.
Aghast, I faced the black bat again.
"Begone!" I shouted, racing toward it with my arm flailing. It
immediately flew away. I collapsed across the emerald bedcovering. ****** When I awoke,
Helga Balan hovered over the bed. Clasping a pitcher of warm water to her
chest, she stared down at me. I smiled weakly up at her. Carefully, she filled
the washbasin from the ewer. "Ooh,
Ranulf had you by the neck last night," she solemnly announced.
"Lucky for you, the Baron appeared. Otherwise, he would have…" "That's
enough, Helga," Madame Balan snapped, appearing suddenly with my breakfast
tray. The housekeeper put down the tray and swatted her granddaughter's
derriere. "OUT!" The young maid
made an 'oof' sound and hustled toward the door. Then, she stopped, pivoted,
and stuck her tongue out at the castle chatelaine. "You
mustn't pay attention to my insolent granddaughter," Reveca Balan
exclaimed placidly. "I have pled with her, again and again, to curb her
imagination. Yet, still…" The housekeeper shrugged in hopeless
exasperation. "Thank
you, Madame," I murmured in dismissal. To emphasize my desire for her
departure, I turned to my tray. The usual
scone and jam tasted like sawdust in my mouth. I ate mechanically and poured
tea from the accompanying pot. As I completed my meal, Helga reappeared.
Plopping onto the bed, she curled her legs beneath her. Then, my companion
reached for a scone and buttered it. I glared at her familiarity, but she
remained at ease. "Haven't
you work to do?" I gruffly questioned. My companion
shrugged nonchalantly. Impertinently, she flopped onto her back and shook her
head violently. Her white cap fell off, and her mop of dark hair spread across
the old quilt. "Work?"
Helga laughed uproariously. "Does it look as though anyone works around
here?" Exasperated, I
shook my head. "No one
cleaned the castle in a thousand years," Helga exclaimed eerily. "The
Baron will not allow it." "Knock it
off, Helga," I briskly remarked. "Your tall tales do not entertain
me." "How
little you know, Miss High and Mighty," my companion chortled, rolling her
eyes into her head. "You have only just arrived. I have lived within the
castle precincts for an untold time"a thousand years or more. I have seen…I
know…" Raising her arms, she twinkled her fingers mysteriously. "Please,
Helga!" I cried, raising my voice. "Enough!" The little
maid leaped up and scurried toward the door without further ado. With a whisk
of black skirts, she disappeared. The heavy door slammed loudly. Relieved, I
sat back against my pillow and glared at the door. It cracked open, and Helga's
small face peered in. A hollow grin crossed her face, and she winked. "I tried
to warn you, Miss," she whispered ominously. "You would not listen.
Ranulf will take you, my sweet, just as the Baron took your mother. Once you're
bit, there's no coming back. A thousand years is an eternity to wait…to wait
for hell." "Be
gone!" I yelled. Grasping my pillow, I heaved it at the door. I stood in the
room's midst and attempted to catch my ragged breath. Tears leaped to my eyes
again, and I sniffed loudly.
"OH!" I exclaimed, stomping my foot on the floor. I crossed my
arms tightly and plopped into the embroidered chair. The overnight fire had
died down, leaving a pile of smoldering ashes. "I want
to go home," I cried childishly. "I want to go home. Prentiss…save
me." X A hidden door
swung open in the turret chamber. Rising from my chair, I stood before it. The
lane leading passed Grey Friar's Vicarage stretched in front of me. I stepped
through the egress and hurried along it. Home! My mind shrieked joyfully. I
skipped through the welcoming privet fence and halted outside the open French
doors. I faced Papa's
study. Prentiss Wills sat at the desk, his back straight and rigid. My younger
self sat alone at one of several school desks. "Norah,"
Prentiss called my name. His chiding tone prickled down my spine. I watched
myself stand and approach the curate. Nervously, my fingers tapped on his desk.
Amity Bradshaw lingered in the hallway. I caught a glimpse of her blonde
ringlets and bright blue ribbons. We planned to stroll into town and buy candy
at the newsagent. "I wish
to speak to you about your composition," Prentiss exasperatedly remarked. "Oh,"
I responded absently. The curate
straightened his back, his hands folded on its smooth surface. The sunlight
streaming through the bow window cast him in shadow. I stood in front of him,
my hands clasped behind my back. I wiggled my fingers in Amity's direction. "Norah,
the undead do not rise from their graves and walk the earth," Prentiss
stated, indicating my assignment. It lay disdainfully before him as though it
were a distasteful object. "Dead is dead. The soul resides either in
heaven or hell, as God ordains." "Marley's
ghost appears to Scrooge in 'A Christmas Carol,'" I objected, mentioning
Charles Dickens' latest novel. "Mr.
Charles Dickens is a heathen," the curate snarled, dismissing the great
writer. "Begging
your pardon," I heatedly exclaimed, "Mr. Dickens is one of the
greatest novelists of our time. I have read all his stories." Eagerly, I
awaited each new installment of Dickon's own periodical, Bentley's Miscellany.
After Papa read the latest serialized chapter of 'The Pickwick Papers' or
'Oliver Twist,' he handed it to me. I spent many wonderful hours reading and
rereading each one. When Dickens
published 'A Christmas Carol' as a standalone novel, Papa presented it to me on
my birthday. I cherished it and kept it on the table beside my bed. It
astonished me that Prentiss disapproved. "The
disturbance of a churchyard's sanctity is reprehensible," the curate
continued, dismissing Mr. Dickens. "Kindly leave those who are at rest
where they lay." Snatching up
my composition, I gazed down upon my father's assistant. His half-glasses
perched on the tip of his sharp nose; his brown eyes bore sharply into mine. I
captured them and held them for a moment. Then, turning on my heels, I fled
through the French doors. Outside, I
walked into the churchyard. Grey gravestones surrounded me. The newer ones
stood straight as soldiers guarding the recent dead. Further and further, I
wandered into the cemetery. The chiseled older stones sank into the moist
earth, slanting in misdirection. Bending, I swiped away the clinging moss and
squatted. HERE LIES PATIENCE MOWBRAY 1641-1658 BELOVED DAUGHTER DEPARTED THIS
EARTH BEFORE HER TIME BABY BOY MOWBRAY 1658 Recently, the small
village class studied Cromwell's rise and iron-fisted rule. Sitting back on my
heels, I contemplated the young mother and child's grave. Suppose Patience
Mowbray had the chance to return? What tales would she tell of the English
Commonwealth years? When Prentiss required a composition on the
subject, I wrote of Patience and the babe she bore out of wedlock. I viewed my
fictional self-told story of her life as a literary masterpiece. The youthful
Quakeress rose from her grave on the full moon night. Clutching her baby to her
breast, she told an eerie tale of a night of passion and lost love. Ashamed,
her family scorned her. However, after she died in childbirth, their hearts
softened toward her. As I knelt
before the poor woman's grave, my heart raged against Prentiss. I loved him. Of
course, I loved him, I assured myself. Papa expected me to. Nevertheless, there
were times when I could not bear his hypocritical religious stance. Papa did not
hold as staunch a viewpoint as Prentiss did. My father encouraged my education
and my ofttimes wild imagination. I dreamed of becoming a famous author like
the Bronte Sisters and Jane Austin. Spinning tales of intrigue enchanted me.
Nodding his support, Papa read my stories and made the necessary corrections. The curate, on
the other hand, disapproved of my ambitions. He expected me to fill my mother's
shoes as the vicar's wife. Arranging flowers at the altar and hosting local
fetes bored me. I longed for more from life. However, Prentiss closed his ears
to my future plans. I sighed and
sat on my heels amongst the tilted graves. Night crept upon me as I
contemplated my fate. The rising mist rose and swirled eerily in the cemetery.
For a moment, I saw the hazy form of an ashen-faced woman cradling a babe in
her arms. Grey Friar's Abbey loomed in the oncoming darkness. A lanky man stood
in the shadows of the doorway. He beckoned toward me. Standing on my
feet, I strode toward the Norman church. I did not wish to confront Prentiss
again. However, I would face him and defend my writing if I must. "Boo!"
A figure rose from the mist, startling me. I gasped, then
recognized Amity Bradshaw. She held out a bag of peppermint sticks, and I took
one. Defiantly, I stuck my tongue out at Prentiss and hooked my arm through my
companion's elbow. Together, we entered the vicarage garden and sat in the
gazebo. "Are you
really going to marry the curate?" the squire's daughter asked. "Papa and
Mama want me to," I nonchalantly answered. "Do you
love him?" Amity suddenly grasped my arm and faced me. "I…"
I took a moment to consider it, then nodded. "I suppose so." "Well…"
She shrugged and turned to stare into the garden. "Mama's getting me ready
for my London season. Mother wants me to marry Ellsworth Clement. He's her
cousin's son. In the meantime, they want me to attend the balls and soirees for
a season. I don't know." She shrugged again. "I'd rather just get it
over with and marry Ell." I sighed and
propped my elbow on my knee. Cupping my chin in my palm, I glanced at Amity. As
the vicar's daughter, I would not attend the London festivities. However, I
often dreamed of experiencing a presentation to Queen Victoria. I pictured
myself attending one of the grand balls the season offered and dancing with a
handsome gentleman. Nevertheless, I knew I had to accept Prentiss Wills
instead. As my thoughts
drifted toward the curate, I heard him clear his throat. My eyes traveled from
his shiny black shoes, perfectly creased pant legs, and paisley waistcoat.
Then, I met his sharp brown eyes. Beside me, Amity suppressed a giggle. I
abruptly poked her side with my elbow. "Do you
plan to join us for tea?" Prentiss asked rudely. "The vicar sent me
out to rouse you, my dear." "Oh, is
it that late?" I questioned innocently. Rising, I bid goodnight to my
companion and walked toward the vicarage sedately. The curate followed close on
my heels. We entered the dining parlor and joined my parents. I blinked my
eyes rapidly, clearing my vision. The vicarage faded, and I found myself curled
in the armchair before the turret fireplace. The bright red and yellow flames
danced merrily. A log crackled, and sparks flew up the chimney. I held an
ancient copy of Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales in my lap. I flipped the pages
until I discovered a folded paper. I spread it open and gazed upon my story of
Patience Mowbray. Suddenly, I
longed for Prentiss but not in contemplation of marriage. I would force him to
stand face-to-face with Baron von Helfin and tell me, once again, that the dead
are dead. XI A specter
hovered over my bed when I awoke on a crisp December morning. The waxen face
and deeply sunken eyes wavered in the dimly lit room. Ogling it in terror, I
sat up and clutched the blanket.
"Norah," the apparition spoke. I squinted at
it until I recognized Mama. Grasping her icy hands, I pulled her onto the
mattress. Tenderly, I brushed aside her straggly grey hair. It hung limply
across her gauzy nightdress. She swayed and collapsed, her eyes staring blankly
at the ceiling.
"Mama," I breathed, astonished. The minutes
swept passed agonizingly. Frantically, I patted her cheeks, hoping to revive
her. Finally, I poured a glass of water from the ewer and dumped it on her
forehead. Mama abruptly sat up, blinking at her surroundings. "You're
ill," I stated when she focused on me. More than a
month had passed since I last saw her. The dramatic changes in her appearance
set me back. She looked close to death. "Neculai
has taken the children away," she muttered, her voice barely above a
whisper. "He claims I require rejuvenation. I must rest while they are
gone and build my strength."
"But…where have they gone?" I questioned. My voice rose in
sudden expectation. News of the
Baron's departure enlightened me. I could convince my parent to leave the
hellish castle environment if I could overwhelm von Helfin's iron grip. Despite
Mama's blighted countenance, I became filled with joy. "Hunting," she stated flatly.
"Hunting!" I exclaimed in astonishment. "The little girls
too?" Traditionally,
men took their sons hunting when the boys reached certain ages. I could easily
imagine the Baron planning such a trip for young Vlad. Perhaps Ranulf
accompanied them, but he undoubtedly left Luiza and Vanda behind. "Well,
certainly," Mama responded, rolling her shoulders. "The Baron is
eager for fresh bloo…." Mama hesitated a moment, stumbling over the last
word. "Fresh meat," she corrected after a momentary hesitation.
"Oh." My mouth formed the word; however, I did not make a
sound. Indeed, she began to say 'blood' instead of 'meat'"an odd choice. Edging closer,
I placed my arm tenderly across her shoulder. Mama leaned onto my side and
brushed away a tear. She sobbed lightly. I gently kissed her on the forehead
and buried my face into her matted gray hair. The door
cracked open, and Helga backed in carrying the breakfast tray. Hastily, I waved
her away. Nodding briskly, she departed silently.
"Mama?" I whispered. "If you are ill, perhaps we should
call the village doctor."
"No!" my mother exclaimed heatedly. Then, she calmed
immediately. "Oh, no, that's not necessary." "But,
Mama!" "There
are no 'buts,' Norah," my parent remonstrated. "Neculai decided I
require a rest. He took his children hunting. That's an end to it." I scanned
Mama's face, searching for the old sparkle in her eyes. She looked at me
vaguely as though from miles and miles away. Sitting on the edge of the bed,
she finally grasped my hands. For a moment, I noticed the old gleam in her eyes
and her excited uplifting voice. Despite her haggard appearance, she
brightened. Then, the quick flash of color faded from her cheeks. "Let's go
home to England," I announced ecstatically. "Let's leave this gloom
and doom castle. I long for the green fields of home, the narrow lanes, and the
old churchyard. Let's arrive in time to bring in the Yule log and hang the mistletoe."
Hugging
myself, I danced about the room. My nightdress's long flannel skirt swirled
above my ankles. I pictured the snowy pathway to the church door and Papa
greeting his congregation on Christmas morning. Mama and I stood behind him,
smiling at the joyous parishioners. Stiffly, Mama
rose and drifted toward the door. Grasping the knob, she thrust it open and
stepped into the turret's rotunda. Then, like a statue brought to life, she
turned to face me. "My home
is in Romania, Norah," she firmly stated. "Neculai is my husband.
England is long ago and far away. I will never return." "Oh, but
Mama," I exclaimed, rushing toward her, "how can you forget England
and Papa? Remember how wonderful it was. How loving we were together. Here…"
I spread my hands wide to indicate our decrepit surroundings. "It's not
our home at all. It's dark and dismal and horrid." "Neculai
has provided a home for us. He is our family now," my parent hollowly
stated. Her blank eyes seemed to stare through me. "His children are my
children. I belong to him…to them." I watched her
long shadow slide along the brick wall as she descended the spiral stairway.
All that remained of my Mama was that shadow, I thought. Leaning in the
doorway, I felt my spirit dissipate. A tear welled in my eye and crept along my
cheek. Closing the
door, I leaned against it. I cried for Papa and Mama. I lost both of them.
Alone…I felt so alone in the vast, forbidden Romanian castle. I longed for my
old life. Nevertheless, it hovered in my mind's eye like some strange dream. Sinking onto
the bed, I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed. Visions of Mama playing
pat-a-cake with Vanda crept into my thoughts. The Baron's little girl took my
place in my mother's heart. Did she tuck the child into bed and kiss her pale
cheeks as she had once kissed mine? Did she gather daisies with Luiza and weave
them into a chain? Oh, but where would she find daisies in a place as dead as
Castle von Helfin? ****** The weeks
crept slowly past, and the Baron did not return. Mama frequently joined me for
breakfast. Then, she took up residence in her bedroom across the rotunda. "Good
morning!" I called out, entering her room with my morning tray. The sun's
first rays brightened the scarlet room. I pulled a chair into the bright slant
and basked in its warmth. Rising, Mama sat opposite me, her tray perched on her
lap. She appeared refreshed, and a peach tint brightened her cheeks. "I often
think about Prentiss, Mama," I began, buttering a slice of toast. "I
wonder if he remained at Gray Friars after the new vicar arrived." "Papa was
quite fond of Prentiss," my mother stated, a smile played on her lips.
"He expected you would marry and have your own church."
"Yes." I drew out my response contemplatively. "I'm fond
of Prentiss too, Mama. He spoke to me last Easter. He wanted to wait another
two years to announce our engagement. When I turned eighteen, he said." "A wise
choice, my dear." Reaching out, Mama patted my knee. "Papa proposed
on my eighteenth birthday." I leaned
forward, knowing I drew her out. Romantic thoughts danced behind my eyes. How I
loved hearing about my parents' early days together. "Of
course, I had my eye on Robert Chamberlain, your uncle." Mama sat back in
her chair and stared above my head. "Squire's son. There were three sons
and two daughters. Robert, the eldest and heir; Forrest, who went into the
army; and Millard, who entered the church. Bob married Melora Campbell, Forrest
remained a bachelor, and I wed Millard." "Aunt
Mary and Aunt Dix remained spinsters," I added, recalling Papa's family.
"They remained in the manor house to tend Grandpapa Robert until he died.
Then, they moved into the dower house."
"Indeed," Mama muttered, sipping her coffee. "Let's go
home," I exclaimed merrily. "Aunt Mary and Aunt Dix will welcome us,
surely. It feels like years since we've seen them." "Oh,
perhaps in a week or so," my mother finally relented. "When I feel
stronger, Norah. I am not quite fit for travel yet." A faraway look crept
into her eyes. I hoped she longed for home as much as I did. I filled our
days with chatter about England. Fervently, I began to make plans. A westward
journey on the Orient Express thrilled me. Perhaps we could spend a few days
shopping in Paris. Then, we would travel to Calais and cross the channel. If
only Mama would agree before Neculai von Helfin returned! "If we
could get home before Christmas…." I began expectantly. "We'll see,
love." Mama patted my hand and smiled weakly. My dreary
spirits uplifted as each day passed. I chatted effortlessly about caroling,
sleigh rides, and drinking hot cider before a crackling fire. Methodically, I
reminisced about Christmas stockings filled with walnuts and oranges. "Remember
the year Papa appeared at the orphanage dressed as Father Christmas?" I
recollected. I could still
see him in his red suit trimmed with white fur. The long snowy beard hid his
smile, but I recognized the twinkle in his soft blue eyes. Noticing my
eagerness to expose him, Mama cautioned me to remain silent. At age seven, I
was without guile and ready to burst with my knowledge. "You'll
spoil the children's Christmas if you call him Papa," Mama remonstrated
harshly. "Keep your tattle-tailing mouth closed." The old
memories flooded me. Blithely, I recalled other holiday mornings in the
vicarage parlor. When I glanced at my mother, I could see her falling further
into the past. I hoped to stir her into a desire to return home. "Children
adored your papa," my mother stated, her voice filled with delight.
"They climbed all over him and grabbed at the toys. He had such great
patience for them." "We had
wonderful times together, Mama," I exclaimed encouragingly. Rising, I
stood with my back to the fire and clasped my hands behind me. I hummed,
'Jingle Bells.' My mother added her voice, and we sang in harmony. One after
the other, we sang the long beloved carols. Finally, when we couldn't think of
another, we collapsed into our chairs. The warm fire
danced merrily before us, and the room grew cozy. We lost ourselves in shared
memories until Helga appeared with our dinner trays. The usual goulash tasted
better than expected, and the warm tea soothed our souls. Drowsily, we reclined
in our armchairs. "Let's go
home, Norah," Mama finally consented. She smiled at me demurely for a
moment, then a wide Cheshire Cat grin crossed her face. A weight
suddenly lifted from her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she leaped
from her seat. Grasping my hands, Mama jigged around the room in hopeless
abandon. Our skirts swirled merrily to the rhythm of our stamping feet. Finally, I
fell across my bed, and Mama landed beside me. We laugh like schoolgirls
contemplating their first holiday abroad. "We'll
make the arrangements immediately," I happily gushed. "Let's surprise
Aunt Mary and Aunt Dix on Christmas day." XI A specter
hovered over my bed when I awoke on a crisp December morning. The waxen face
and deeply sunken eyes wavered in the dimly lit room. Ogling it in terror, I
sat up and clutched the blanket.
"Norah," the apparition spoke. I squinted at
it until I recognized Mama. Grasping her icy hands, I pulled her onto the
mattress. Tenderly, I brushed aside her straggly grey hair. It hung limply
across her gauzy nightdress. She swayed and collapsed, her eyes staring blankly
at the ceiling.
"Mama," I breathed, astonished. The minutes
swept passed agonizingly. Frantically, I patted her cheeks, hoping to revive
her. Finally, I poured a glass of water from the ewer and dumped it on her forehead.
Mama abruptly sat up, blinking at her surroundings. "You're
ill," I stated when she focused on me. More than a
month had passed since I last saw her. The dramatic changes in her appearance
set me back. She looked close to death. "Neculai
has taken the children away," she muttered, her voice barely above a
whisper. "He claims I require rejuvenation. I must rest while they are
gone and build my strength."
"But…where have they gone?" I questioned. My voice rose in
sudden expectation. News of the
Baron's departure enlightened me. I could convince my parent to leave the
hellish castle environment if I could overwhelm von Helfin's iron grip. Despite
Mama's blighted countenance, I became filled with joy.
"Hunting," she stated flatly.
"Hunting!" I exclaimed in astonishment. "The little girls
too?" Traditionally,
men took their sons hunting when the boys reached certain ages. I could easily
imagine the Baron planning such a trip for young Vlad. Perhaps Ranulf
accompanied them, but he undoubtedly left Luiza and Vanda behind. "Well,
certainly," Mama responded, rolling her shoulders. "The Baron is
eager for fresh bloo…." Mama hesitated a moment, stumbling over the last
word. "Fresh meat," she corrected after a momentary hesitation.
"Oh." My mouth formed the word; however, I did not make a
sound. Indeed, she began to say 'blood' instead of 'meat'"an odd choice. Edging closer,
I placed my arm tenderly across her shoulder. Mama leaned onto my side and
brushed away a tear. She sobbed lightly. I gently kissed her on the forehead
and buried my face into her matted gray hair. The door
cracked open, and Helga backed in carrying the breakfast tray. Hastily, I waved
her away. Nodding briskly, she departed silently.
"Mama?" I whispered. "If you are ill, perhaps we should
call the village doctor."
"No!" my mother exclaimed heatedly. Then, she calmed
immediately. "Oh, no, that's not necessary." "But,
Mama!" "There
are no 'buts,' Norah," my parent remonstrated. "Neculai decided I
require a rest. He took his children hunting. That's an end to it." I scanned
Mama's face, searching for the old sparkle in her eyes. She looked at me
vaguely as though from miles and miles away. Sitting on the edge of the bed,
she finally grasped my hands. For a moment, I noticed the old gleam in her eyes
and her excited uplifting voice. Despite her haggard appearance, she
brightened. Then, the quick flash of color faded from her cheeks. "Let's go
home to England," I announced ecstatically. "Let's leave this gloom
and doom castle. I long for the green fields of home, the narrow lanes, and the
old churchyard. Let's arrive in time to bring in the Yule log and hang the
mistletoe." Hugging
myself, I danced about the room. My nightdress's long flannel skirt swirled
above my ankles. I pictured the snowy pathway to the church door and Papa
greeting his congregation on Christmas morning. Mama and I stood behind him,
smiling at the joyous parishioners. Stiffly, Mama
rose and drifted toward the door. Grasping the knob, she thrust it open and
stepped into the turret's rotunda. Then, like a statue brought to life, she
turned to face me. "My home
is in Romania, Norah," she firmly stated. "Neculai is my husband.
England is long ago and far away. I will never return." "Oh, but
Mama," I exclaimed, rushing toward her, "how can you forget England
and Papa? Remember how wonderful it was. How loving we were together.
Here…" I spread my hands wide to indicate our decrepit surroundings.
"It's not our home at all. It's dark and dismal and horrid." "Neculai
has provided a home for us. He is our family now," my parent hollowly
stated. Her blank eyes seemed to stare through me. "His children are my
children. I belong to him…to them." I watched her
long shadow slide along the brick wall as she descended the spiral stairway.
All that remained of my Mama was that shadow, I thought. Leaning in the
doorway, I felt my spirit dissipate. A tear welled in my eye and crept along my
cheek. Closing the
door, I leaned against it. I cried for Papa and Mama. I lost both of them.
Alone…I felt so alone in the vast, forbidden Romanian castle. I longed for my
old life. Nevertheless, it hovered in my mind's eye like some strange dream. Sinking onto
the bed, I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed. Visions of Mama playing
pat-a-cake with Vanda crept into my thoughts. The Baron's little girl took my
place in my mother's heart. Did she tuck the child into bed and kiss her pale
cheeks as she had once kissed mine? Did she gather daisies with Luiza and weave
them into a chain? Oh, but where would she find daisies in a place as dead as
Castle von Helfin? ****** The weeks
crept slowly past, and the Baron did not return. Mama frequently joined me for
breakfast. Then, she took up residence in her bedroom across the rotunda. "Good
morning!" I called out, entering her room with my morning tray. The sun's
first rays brightened the scarlet room. I pulled a chair into the bright slant
and basked in its warmth. Rising, Mama sat opposite me, her tray perched on her
lap. She appeared refreshed, and a peach tint brightened her cheeks. "I often
think about Prentiss, Mama," I began, buttering a slice of toast. "I
wonder if he remained at Gray Friars after the new vicar arrived." "Papa was
quite fond of Prentiss," my mother stated, a smile played on her lips.
"He expected you would marry and have your own church."
"Yes." I drew out my response contemplatively. "I'm fond
of Prentiss too, Mama. He spoke to me last Easter. He wanted to wait another
two years to announce our engagement. When I turned eighteen, he said." "A wise
choice, my dear." Reaching out, Mama patted my knee. "Papa proposed
on my eighteenth birthday." I leaned
forward, knowing I drew her out. Romantic thoughts danced behind my eyes. How I
loved hearing about my parents' early days together. "Of
course, I had my eye on Robert Chamberlain, your uncle." Mama sat back in
her chair and stared above my head. "Squire's son. There were three sons
and two daughters. Robert, the eldest and heir; Forrest, who went into the
army; and Millard, who entered the church. Bob married Melora Campbell, Forrest
remained a bachelor, and I wed Millard." "Aunt
Mary and Aunt Dix remained spinsters," I added, recalling Papa's family.
"They remained in the manor house to tend Grandpapa Robert until he died.
Then, they moved into the dower house."
"Indeed," Mama muttered, sipping her coffee. "Let's go
home," I exclaimed merrily. "Aunt Mary and Aunt Dix will welcome us,
surely. It feels like years since we've seen them." "Oh,
perhaps in a week or so," my mother finally relented. "When I feel
stronger, Norah. I am not quite fit for travel yet." A faraway look crept
into her eyes. I hoped she longed for home as much as I did. I filled our
days with chatter about England. Fervently, I began to make plans. A westward
journey on the Orient Express thrilled me. Perhaps we could spend a few days
shopping in Paris. Then, we would travel to Calais and cross the channel. If
only Mama would agree before Neculai von Helfin returned! "If we
could get home before Christmas…." I began expectantly. "We'll
see, love." Mama patted my hand and smiled weakly. My dreary
spirits uplifted as each day passed. I chatted effortlessly about caroling,
sleigh rides, and drinking hot cider before a crackling fire. Methodically, I
reminisced about Christmas stockings filled with walnuts and oranges. "Remember
the year Papa appeared at the orphanage dressed as Father Christmas?" I
recollected. I could still
see him in his red suit trimmed with white fur. The long snowy beard hid his
smile, but I recognized the twinkle in his soft blue eyes. Noticing my
eagerness to expose him, Mama cautioned me to remain silent. At age seven, I
was without guile and ready to burst with my knowledge. "You'll
spoil the children's Christmas if you call him Papa," Mama remonstrated
harshly. "Keep your tattle-tailing mouth closed." The old
memories flooded me. Blithely, I recalled other holiday mornings in the
vicarage parlor. When I glanced at my mother, I could see her falling further
into the past. I hoped to stir her into a desire to return home. "Children
adored your papa," my mother stated, her voice filled with delight.
"They climbed all over him and grabbed at the toys. He had such great
patience for them." "We had
wonderful times together, Mama," I exclaimed encouragingly. Rising, I
stood with my back to the fire and clasped my hands behind me. I hummed,
'Jingle Bells.' My mother added her voice, and we sang in harmony. One after
the other, we sang the long beloved carols. Finally, when we couldn't think of
another, we collapsed into our chairs. The warm fire
danced merrily before us, and the room grew cozy. We lost ourselves in shared
memories until Helga appeared with our dinner trays. The usual goulash tasted
better than expected, and the warm tea soothed our souls. Drowsily, we reclined
in our armchairs. "Let's go
home, Norah," Mama finally consented. She smiled at me demurely for a
moment, then a wide Cheshire Cat grin crossed her face. A weight
suddenly lifted from her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she leaped
from her seat. Grasping my hands, Mama jigged around the room in hopeless
abandon. Our skirts swirled merrily to the rhythm of our stamping feet. Finally, I
fell across my bed, and Mama landed beside me. We laugh like schoolgirls
contemplating their first holiday abroad. "We'll
make the arrangements immediately," I happily gushed. "Let's surprise
Aunt Mary and Aunt Dix on Christmas day."
XII "Carriage,"
I sounded the word out carefully. "I wish to order a carriage." Godoired
Cazacu stared at me blankly. Again, my lips pronounced the word. The Baron's
mute servant removed his cap and absently scratched at his unruly mop of hair.
I held back my impatience and imitated entering a conveyance. Suddenly
Godoired's eyes widen in understanding. He vigorously nodded his head, then
shook it dolefully. Defeated, I
spoke again. Over the months, I had picked up a spattering of the Romanian
language. Yet, it remained challenging to talk to the deaf and mute retainer. Indicating
that Godoired remained, I raced inside, searching for Helga Balan. I discovered
her idly swiping at the parlor furniture with a duster. Grabbing her hand, I dragged
her outside. "Mama and
I are returning to England for the holidays," I hastily explained. "I
am trying to order a conveyance to the village. Can you explain, please?" Helga's eyes
widened. For a moment, she hesitated. Eagerly, I waited for her to speak. The
minutes ticked passed. Awkwardly, we
stood in a loose circle. Helga rocked back and forth on her heels, nonchalantly
staring over my head. Godoired twisted his cap into a ball and knotted it with
his huge hands. My eyes shifted from one to the other. The silence between us
continued to drag out. Why didn't she
speak? I wondered. The matter seemed quite urgent to me, and I wanted an
answer. Then, I recalled the many conversations between us about my homeland.
Helga appeared eager to learn more. Wistfully, she voiced her zeal to travel
the world and visit England particularly. Although
Helga's disdainful attitude repulsed me, I felt sorry for her. She lived her
life entirely within the confines of von Helfin castle and never experienced
the outside world. The little maidservant enviously listened to me describe our
travels from France to Romania. Finally, I comprehended the reason for her
silence. "Yes,"
I exclaimed, lightly touching her arm, "you will accompany us." A huge grin
brightened Helga's wan face. Joyfully, she turned to Godoired. Using her hands
as her voice, she mimicked my request. I nearly laughed at her antics but held
my expression in repose. The deaf-mute servant's perplexed expression disappeared.
He mumbled a response, his sounds dull and hollow. I could not comprehend his
answer. However, my young companion nodded vigorously. "Tomorrow,
at noon," the young maid confirmed. "You must not detain the driver.
He will not wait for you. Prepare to a-light immediately. No hesitation." "Yes,"
I jubilantly exclaimed. The instructions were as I had hoped. The quicker Mama
and I departed, the sooner we could put von Helfin castle behind us. ****** Mama's
enthusiasm had waned since our earlier discussion. Throughout the afternoon, I
begged and pleaded with her. The change would do her good, I cajoled. We could
visit old friends and leisurely explore London. "Let's
stay a few days in London, Mama," I urged enthusiastically. "We'll
spend a whole afternoon in Harrods, Christmas shopping." I hoped
mentioning the department store located on Brompton Road in Knightsbridge would
inspire my mother. Often, we stopped there while visiting the English capital,
much to Papa's chagrin. Mama loved to shop and frequently spent more money than
we could afford. Indeed, a sumptuous hour or more of wandering through the
clothing and food halls would impel her to leave this horrible place. Mama's eyes
sparkled, and her dour expression brightened. Then, her countenance suddenly
flattened. Glancing at her flimsy black gown, she muttered an exclamation of
dismay. She glimpsed her straggly gray hair in the mirror and appeared shocked.
Muttering under her breath, she dashed through the connecting door into her
chamber. I followed her
and leaned in the doorway. Mama stood in the open wardrobe. She threw her
dress, shirtwaists, and skirts onto the bed one by one. Her hat boxes followed
her clothing. She dragged out her trunk and began to pack. Satisfied, I
returned to my bedroom and gathered my own belongings. Helga appeared and
offered her assistance. Carefully, we folded my clothes into tissue paper. The
young maid added a rolled-up dress to my garments. "I only
own the two dresses," Helga exclaimed balefully. Running her callused
palms over my pink organdy, she sighed. Then, she held it up against her black
maid's outfit and spun around on tiptoes. "I wish…" "When we
get to England, we'll purchase a new wardrobe just for Helga," I announced,
anticipating her joy. "We're going to London for a few days to shop for
Christmas. I'll make it my gift to you." "Would
you, Miss?" the forlorn maid asked. She stared at me in wonder, then her
face fell even further. "Oh, but that's not for me, Miss. Pretty things
don't suit me. I'm just a poor gypsy waif. I have to work for my keep." "Not in
England!" I exclaimed, grabbing her hands. "In England, you will
become my lady's maid. No, my companion. You'll go with me everywhere I go.
You'll take care of my wardrobe and fix my hair. When I marry Prentiss, you
will come with me"to assist me." Throughout the
months, I had grown fond of Helga Balan. Beneath her strange exterior, she
displayed a strong personality. I longed to protect her and remove her from the
von Helfin environment. Flopping onto
my bed, I spoke vibrantly of London and the English countryside. However, when
I mentioned the Christmas holidays, Helga became withdrawn. Her dark eyes
shadowed, and her complexion paled. Bowing her head, she dolefully shook her
head. "Don't
you celebrate the holiday in Romania?" I asked, perplexed. "But,
surely, you do." Helga shook
her head and withdrew further into herself. Then, she hastily grabbed her
bundle from my trunk and flew from the room. Leaping from the bed, I rushed
after her. However, I lost sight of her when I reached the lower level. I wandered
aimlessly along the castle corridors and peeked into the disused rooms. One by
one, I flung open wardrobes and peeked beneath the beds. Finally, reaching the
ground floor, I discovered the young maidservant in the kitchen. She cowered
behind her grandmother, clutching her skirts. Reveca Balan turned upon me and
waved her wooden spoon menacingly. "The
Baron forbids talk of Christianity and Christian celebrations," the
elderly housekeeper proclaimed. "You will not fill my granddaughter's head
with such mysticism. Mark my words: you will do well to forget your English
beliefs." She spat out my beloved country's name disdainfully. I bowed my
head and turned away. Papa taught me to avoid debates with non-believers.
Dolefully, I left Helga with her furious grandmother and returned to my turret
room. Picking up my
pink organdy, I folded it and placed it in my trunk. Then, my face crumpled.
Unexpected tears welled in my eyes. I thought of happy mornings gathered around
the holiday tree and holly boughs on the mantlepiece. Mrs. Balan's urge to
forget about Christmas joy shocked me. I closed my trunk and wandered into
Mama's room. I found Mama
sitting at her vanity table. The candles in their sconces glowed brightly,
framing her haggard face. Lethargically, she pulled a comb through her tangled
hair. I gently took it from her and began working on the gray knots. "You seem
different, Mama," I mentioned, swallowing a throat lump. "We arrived
only a short time ago, yet so much has changed." I hesitated, biting my
lip thoughtfully. "Change
occurs in everyone's life, now and then," my mother offered, smiling
slightly. "We must accept it and carry on as best we can." "I
suppose," I remarked pensively. "Still…" I worried my lip again. The minutes
dragged past as I worked on an intricate tangle. Mama gasped when I pulled at a
clump, and I apologized. "Mama,"
I began again, "You still believe, don't you? I mean, in God and
Christmas?" "It
doesn't matter what we believe, Norah," my parent exclaimed. Turning on
her stool, she suddenly grasped my hands. I met her dull eyes with my earnest
ones. "Nicolai prohibits all talk of Christianity. We must comply with his
wishes." "Oh,
but…Mama!" I placed the comb onto the tabletop and stepped away hastily.
"You can't mean… What about Papa? Papa believed; Papa…" "Papa
doesn't matter any longer, my dear child." Mama rose languidly and drifted
toward the door. She grasped the knob and hesitated. "We owe much to the
Baron…Nicolai… Your Papa is in the grave he dug for himself, and Nicolai is my
husband now. We comply with his wishes." My mother
disappeared before I could speak. I stood in her room, clutching my fists. We
must depart quickly, I assured myself. I determined to break the unholy chain
that bound my once beautiful mother to her heathen husband. Mama must have
realized the Baron's adversity to Christianity when she took her wedding vows.
Yet, she married him and clung to him and… My racing thoughts halted, and my
fist tightened. And she obeyed him. I shuddered. Long ago and
far away, we lived an idyllic life. We worshipped in the small church together
and participated in local gatherings. Mama took charge of the summer fetes and
autumn harvest dances. Our friends in the village looked up to us for guidance,
both spiritual and temporal. We upheld firm Victorian standards and shunned
adversity. I could not
comprehend Mama's change in attitude. Her marriage to the Baron reversed all
her past beliefs. She turned her back on her life with Papa completely. Once
upon a time, my father meant all to her. We worshiped in the church together as
a family. Following the service, she stood on the sanctuary's porch and spoke
kindly to the parishioners. Her warm smile never left her face. I shuddered at
the Baron's adversity to Christianity. I could not put Papa in my past as
swiftly as Mama had. I loved him still and thought of him in his cold grave. If
I could turn back time, I would have prevented him from turning himself into
the police. He had acted in the defense of a poor prostitute. My mind railed
against fate. I clutched the
stairway banister with white knuckles. Then, I flung myself down the spiral
stairway, my footsteps echoing loudly against the vaulted ceiling. Propelling
myself across the rotunda, I grasped the door handle and pulled. It did not
budge. I yanked again and again until my arm ached. Balling my fists, I pounded
on the oaken egress and yelled Mama's name. No response. Defeated, I sank onto
the bottom step and covered my face with my hands. I sobbed. XIII The following
day, I stood in the empty courtyard impatiently. At noon precisely, Godoired
Cazacu dragged our luggage down to the great hall. Grasping Mama's arm tightly,
I trailed behind the deaf-mute servant. Mama sat upon her trunk and placidly
folded her hands together. Her zombie-like movements startled me. I still did
not know if she intended to accompany me to England. Furtively, I watched her,
expecting her to bolt at any moment. The hours
ticked past without a sign of the one-eyed coachman. Perhaps he had a change of
heart. When we first arrived at the train station, he showed an unwillingness
to drive us. A frightened shadow hovered behind his one blurry red orb as he
gazed upon us. "Baron
von Helfin assured me a conveyance would await us at the station," my mother
stated imperiously. "Take us to the castle immediately." Stomping her
foot, she held her ground. Fog crept
along the train platform, entwining our ankles with wispy fingers. Steam
billowed from the waiting engine, and its wheels began slowly churning. In a
moment, it would depart, leaving us to fend for ourselves. "Either
convey us to von Helfin castle or let us board the train before it
departs," Mama continued imploringly. The coachman
swept off his cap and knotted it in his palms. The train chugged to attention
and began to move. It gained speed, little by little, and left the small branch
station. "Women
and young girls belong tucked up in their beds at this hour," the Romanian
exclaimed in broken English.
"Nevertheless," Mama continued briskly. "Baron von Helfin
awaits us. His letter…" She produced it from her patent leather purse.
"…assures a coach will convey us immediately to his residence." She
energetically shook the envelope beneath his bulbous nose. "There is
an inn only a few steps along the sidewalk, Madam," the attendant remarked,
lifting one of our trunks. "I will gladly show you the way." "You will
gladly take us to Baron von Helfin." Purposely, Mama strode through the
station and stopped before a rickety carriage. "Yes,
Madam," the one-eyed Romanian finally consented. He reluctantly held the
door open, and we began the perilous journey up the steep crag. I glanced
furtively toward the hazardous roadway again and gnawed my lip. It remained
empty. "What's
taking so long?" I peevishly demanded. Turning briskly upon Helga, I
pushed my hands against my hips. "You did tell Godoired noon?" "Ye…yes,
Miss Norah," my companion responded hesitantly. "At twelve o' the
clock, I said." Twelve o' the
clock, my mind raged"a statement that could imply noon or midnight. Silently, I
marched toward the massive iron gate and grabbed the railings with tightened
fists. I closed my eyes and reopened them. For a moment, I envisioned the
carriage swinging around the last bend. Hopefully, I pressed closer to the
gate. I blinked, and the vision dissipated. Tears hung from my lashes. "I said
'noon' specifically," I moaned when Helga joined me at the gate. "Not
twelve o'clock." My companion
stared at me, her pale moon face blank of expression. Then, an unseen point in
the distance caught her attention. "Am I
still going with you?" the little maid finally asked, her voice a whisper. I shot her a
disdainful glance. My mind raged at her selfish attitude. I had only accepted
Helga's company as a means of escape. Without her assistance, we would languish
in Romania for the rest of our lives. Desperately, I wished to put the eerie
castle and its occupants in my distant past. "Yes,
yes," I finally shot out, spinning upon her. "I promised. However,
next time, follow my orders completely…exactly as I say." "Yes,
Miss." Helga bobbed a curtsey. In the great
hall, Mama continued to perch on her trunk. Her slim white hands moved to
adjust her black bonnet. A ghost of her formal self, she accepted our departure
meekly. At any moment, I expected her to change her mind. "The
coachman will arrive momentarily," I assured her. Grasping her icy hands
tenderly, I sat beside her. Mama would
return to her usual self once we arrived in England. The fresh, clean air and
familiar surroundings would certainly revive her strength. I hated to see her
so drained of energy. In the past, her vivacious attitude kept the family
going. When Papa struggled with his weekly sermons, she inspired him. Her marriage
to the Baron changed her dramatically. Listless, Mama roamed about the castle
during the nighttime hours and slept the day away. I rarely saw her until
Nicolai von Helfin departed on his hunting trip. When she did appear, her blue
eyes seemed dull, and her expression remained undescriptive. While we
waited, I hoped to inspire her with holiday excitement. I expected the scenery
would bring Mama out of her doldrums as we traveled westward. Methodically, I
described our return journey on the Orient Express and the ferry crossing to
Dover. She nodded optimistically. "We
should wire Aunt Mary and Aunt Dix before we cross the channel," I
suggested confidently. "Perhaps they'll meet us at Paddington Station. We
could spend a few days in London and…" Mama turned
her baleful eyes toward me. For a moment, I believed her lips twitched toward a
smile. Then, it faded. "I doubt
very much whether Mary or Dix will greet us at the station, Norah," Mama
muttered dismally. "Mary's never taken kindly to me, and Dix follows suit.
They may not welcome us." "Oh, but
surely, Mama…" I began. Over the
years, we rarely visited Papa's old home. When we did, Aunt Mary greeted my
father cordially and fussed over how much I had grown. Mama remained in the
background, pensively observing. Aunt Dix attempted friendliness but generally
followed her elder sister's lead. "When
your Papa…died…unexpectedly…" Mama paused for a moment to collect her
thoughts. "I wrote to your Aunt Mary asking for assistance. She offered
you a home and asked that I give you up entirely to her. I could not bear to
part from my only child. We were left…" She gulped and continued,
"...fend for ourselves." I remained
beside her, silently rubbing her cold hand. News of Aunt Mary's response shocked
me. Cast out into the world, Mama accepted the only post she could
obtain"governess to the von Helfin children. I felt sorry for her but also
believed the time had arrived to admit defeat. "I'm sure
the Aunties will help us, Mama," I suggested encouragingly. "If they
realize we are in trouble…" "We are
not in trouble," Mama tersely remarked. "I am happily married to
Nicolai von Helfin. I agreed to a Christmas holiday in England. When it is
over, I plan to return to Romania." "Oh,
Mama," I wailed, my shoulders sagging. "We cannot remain in this
godforsaken place. We must…"
"Godforsaken, Norah?" my parent questioned dolefully.
"You would renege upon the opportunity to live in a fine castle? To have a
Baron as your stepfather?" "I would
renege on any opportunity that took us away from England, Mama," I sharply
retorted. Abruptly, I
stood and faced her. "Look,
look around you, Mama," I hotly exclaimed. Waving my arms frantically, I
indicated our dismal surroundings. "This is not a fairy tale castle. It's
rundown and decrepit. Your beloved Baron slinks about as though half-alive.
Workhouse children live better than the Baron's offspring. You cannot believe…" Filled with
disdain, I reapproached the wrought iron gate. The cragged roadway remained
empty. No carriage, no escape. Tears glided down my cheeks, dripping off my
chin. XIV
"The Holly and the Ivy When they are full grown Of all the trees in the wood The holly bears the crown The rising of the sun." My plaintive
voice rang against the stone walls of my turret bed chamber. I knelt before the
roaring fire and prodded the logs with the iron poker. Sparks flew up the
smoke-darkened chimney as I sat before it. The leaping flames transfixed me. Alone on
Christmas Eve, I hovered close to the fire's warmth. The rest of the room
remained chilled against the Romanian winter. I wrapped my woolen shawl around
my shoulders and gripped it at the neck. I had not seen Mama since the night of
our attempted escape. The bolted
door kept me the Baron's prisoner. Other than Mrs. Balan, I never saw another
soul. She entered with nourishment twice a day and left with the chamber pot.
Stale bread and lukewarm water made my daily meals. The fire provided the only
comfort. Once, I caught
a glimpse of Helga hovering behind her grandmother. She attempted to enter my
chamber. However, the housekeeper forced her back and closed the door in her
face. I would have enjoyed the little maid's companionship. My solitary
confinement wracked my nerves. I thought of
cold winter evenings in the vicarage parlor and skating parties on the mill
pond. Mama served hot mulled cider and warm gingerbread for the young skaters.
Near the edge of the pond, a bonfire blazed. I closed my eyes, and the
fireplace transformed into a roaring bonfire. It warmed my soul. As though in a
trance, I rose and rummaged in the highboy for a black stocking. I hung it from
the mantlepiece. It cast a limp shadow against the hearth. Inside my broken
heart, I hoped Mama would appear to fill it during the overnight hours. Shining
like a golden beacon from the past, our Christmas tree angel sat at the center
of the chimneypiece. Clasping my hands tightly together, I knelt and prayed for
a miracle. "So
close," I muttered to the still room. "So very close." ****** Night fell,
and we continued to wait for the coachman. Encouragingly, I urged Mama to hold
on until his arrival. The tall tower clock hovered at five minutes to midnight.
Straining my ears, I listened for the clop-clop of horses' hooves. Mist
enveloped the courtyard as we lingered. I hugged myself tightly and paced
before the iron gate. Helga stood in
the doorway, pressed against Mrs. Balan's side. The housekeeper's steely grey
eyes seemed to cut into my flesh. I threw an ominous look in her direction, and
hers challenged me in return. Mama rose and
stood in the midst of the courtyard. A solitary soul"she hugged herself tightly
against the cold night. A heavy black cloak concealed her gaunt figure. Gray
wisps escaped her black poke bonnet. Pity for her rose in my heart. Crossing my
fingers tightly, I urged the appearance of the one-eyed coachman. For a moment,
the pale full moon peeked through the mist. The form of a black bat rose and
hovered on its surface. Bats swarmed from the naked trees. Their wings beat a
hellish staccato as they swooped into the castle's precincts. Throwing my arms
over my head, I ducked as they assaulted me. Then, they returned to perch in
the dead tree branches.
"Mama!" I screamed, fearing she had sustained an injury.
However, when I looked in her direction, Baron von Helfin stood protectively by
her side. His deathly white hand clamped possessively on her shoulder. "Take
your hand off of her," I demanded, briskly stepping toward him. Behind hooded
eyes, von Helfin glared at me ominously. Defiantly, I balled my fists and
rushed him. I intended to pummel him in the chest, to release my pent-up fury.
However, as I swooped upon him, Ranulf materialized from the fog and blocked my
way. The Baron's ward gripped me tightly above the elbows. I struggled
against my captor, but his grip tightened. I could not release myself. Looming
above me, Ranulf bent me backward. The pins holding my chignon loosened, and my
long brown hair tumbled freely. His hand raked my tresses, and he cupped my
chin. A sudden tenderness leaped into his sanguine eyes. Gasping, I stood
transfixed beneath his glare. Then, with a brisk head shake, I yanked myself
out of my trance. Pulling my foot back swiftly, I drove my booted toe into his
shin. The Baron's
nephew released me momentarily. I danced backward rapidly but could not evade
him. His sharp fingernails cut deeply into my flesh, and his lips lifted in a
snarl. The slight parting of his mouth produced his canine teeth's spikey
points. Ominously, he leaned toward my straining neck.
"Ranulf!" Nicolai von Helfin barked tersely. "Not
now!" "If not
now, when, Uncle?" the Baron's ward countered. His grip tightened. I
stared into his anguished face. "When she
is ready. When she is compliant to our wishes."
"Compliant?" I sputtered, straining for release. "I will
never comply with your evil wishes." Forcefully,
the Baron shoved Ranulf out of his way. The young man lay sprawled against the
wrought iron gate. Picking himself up, he slunk into the darkness. The mist
encased him, and his curt footsteps echoed on the cobblestones. I turned my
frightened eyes toward my mother's menacing husband. His black hair glistened
in the moon glow. His pale expression hardened, and his red pupils narrowed to
pinpricks. He leaned his tall form above me and pressed his face close to mine.
I caught a whiff of his overly sweet metallic breath. Cringing, I stepped
backward. He swiftly followed my movement. "Who are
you?" I defiantly shot out. "What are you?" "I am
your stepfather, your mother's husband," Baron von Helfin responded,
clipping his words. "You will obey me."
"NO!" I shouted, my voice reverberating around the mist-filled
courtyard. "My father lies dead in Grey Friar's churchyard. He was an
honorable man, a parish vicar. You are no father to me. I wish to return to
England immediately. Set my mother and me free." The Baron's
icy hand slammed against my cheek, sending me reeling onto the flagstone. My
body connected with the ground and skidded to a halt. Stunned, I sat up and,
wrapping my arms around my injured body, swayed back and forth. Von Helfin
hovered above me. His long, slim reached for me. Using my feet, I propelled my
body backward and evaded his grip. Steadily my lips began to form The Lord's
Prayer. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done; on earth as it is… An unearthly
hiss escaped the Baron's leering mouth, followed by ululating screams. He
seemed to shrink before my eyes. …in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil… I continued,
the words quickly falling from my lips. I noticed Mama standing immobile with
her back against the stone wall. For a moment, I believed she would intervene.
Instead, she shrank further into the stonework. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen. As I muttered the final holy word, the Baron enfolded
himself in his black opera cape. Then, the silk fell into a pile on the
pavement. Astonished, I stared at the black fabric pool. Mama stepped forward
and knelt. Her stark expression gripped me with fear. Silently, tears slid down
her sallow cheeks.
"Mama," I exclaimed, squatting beside her. I could not believe
she loved von Helfin. In my view, he represented the epitome of all evil. Then, the
opera cape began to shift. It lifted and fell, lifted and fell. Slowly, it
rose, and a bat escaped its confines. The fierce mammal beat its wings into my
face, its sharp teeth gnashing toward my neck. Utilizing all my strength, I
swatted it away. Spiraling, it crashed into the iron gate and flew upward. Silence fell
in the courtyard, minutes ticking away. Falling to my knees, I crawled toward
my prostrate mother.
"Norah," Mama murmured, collapsing into my embrace.
"Godoired!" Nicolai von Helfin's voice cut through the mist. Astonishingly,
the Baron's deaf henchman appeared. Haphazardly, he lurched into the open and
gazed skyward at his master. "Take her
away!" von Helfin's menacing finger pointed in my direction. Godoired
Cazacu ambled in my direction. His muscular arms encircled my shoulders. With
the ease of a strongman, he lifted me and carried me into the turret. I
fiercely beat upon his back with my tiny fists as we ascended the circular
stone stairway.
Unceremoniously, I felt my body drop onto my bed. Then, the door swung
shut, and the bolt fell into place. The realization of becoming the Baron's
prisoner stunned me. ****** As sharp as any thorn And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ On Christmas Day in the morn The rising of the sun I continued to
sing my father's favorite Christmas carol. Tears formed in my sorrowful eyes.
Ignoring them, I kept up my hollow chant. Momentarily, I stood in the church
choir box. The village children surrounded me, their cherry-cheeked faces
raised in song. Stepping forward, eight-year-old Hammond Billingsby disengaged
himself from the group. He rendered his solo in a bright clear voice. Steadily
it rose above the snow-covered ground, calling faithful worshippers to the
holiday service. Prentiss Wills
conducted the choir from the pulpit. A wrist flick caused his slender baton to
rise and fall rhythmically. Mama and Papa stood outside on the porch. Smiling,
they welcomed each parishioner and wished them a Happy Christmas. Hammond
stepped back into his place, and the children's sweet voices rejoined him. I
pressed my shoulder against Mary Wilson and gripped Amity Bradshaw's palm. Our
heads turned toward each other, and we grinned. Although I reminisced about
Amity occasionally, thoughts of Mary never crossed my mind. I absently wondered
about my other best friend. Poor Mary
Wilson"the gamekeeper's daughter. Mary did not have the advantage of being
either the squire's or the vicar's daughter. She arrived at school wearing
faded gingham dresses and scuffed shoes. Her drab, colorless hair hung in two
uneven plaits, and she wore a lopsided smile. At first, Amity chided her about
her lack of clothing. However, I took pity on her and became her friend. After
a while, Amity accepted her companionship also. I prodded a
log in the fire and chided myself for forgetting Mary. In my mind, I wished her
a Happy Christmas and prayed I would see her soon. On the morrow, Amity and
Mary would stand side-by-side in the choir box. They would grin at each other,
and perhaps miss my presence. Never would my two best friends suspect I lay a
prisoner in von Helfin castle. Unhappily, I
continued to sing as the fire crackled and my stocking hung limply from the
mantlepiece. XV The oaken door
blasted open, carrying in a gust of cold winter wind. Tall and gaunt, Baron von
Helfin appeared within the frame. I rose from my place before the fire, my body
trembling with fear. The words to my beloved Christmas carol trapped within my
throat. Fearfully, I backed away until my spine connected with the firebox.
"Silence!" von Helfin roared. His round eyes bulged fiercely
from his ashen face. Hastily, the
Baron strode toward me. Raising his hand, he struck my cheek forcefully. I
staggered, and my knees buckled. I grappled for the mantlepiece, slipped, and
fell to my knees.
"Uncle!" Ranulf exclaimed, rushing to kneel beside me. "Be
gone!" Swiftly, von Helfin grabbed his nephew's arm and hauled him to his
feet. Propelling the young man toward the door, he continued, "If I
required your assistance, I would demand it." "But,
Uncle," the Baron's ward pleaded, "you needn't use violence. She's
just a young girl." "I said
be gone," my adversary repeated, swinging the heavy door closed in
Ranulf's face. A firm hand
shot out, preventing the closure. The nephew leaned in the entryway, his arms
crossed defiantly. Von Helfin surveyed him coolly, then turned back to me.
"It's…it's K…k…Christmas Eve," I stuttered, re-finding my
voice. von Helfin
flinched at the word 'Christmas.' Nevertheless, I stood my ground. He would not
prevent my celebration of the holy season. "I forbid
the word in my presence," my capturer hissed, a nerve in his cheek
pulsating. "Bring her," he ordered, shoving me manfully toward
Ranulf. Stunned, I
collapsed into the Baron's nephew's arms. Gently, he pulled me against his
chest. The rapid thump of his heartbeat calmed me. Encased within his embrace,
I allowed him to lead me down the spiral staircase. Nicolai von Helfin followed
on our heels, occasionally prodding his ward's back. We continued downward
until we reached the dank cellar and halted at the nursery door. Mama barely
glanced at us when we entered. She perched on a faded divan with Vanda and
Luiza cozied against her side. In hushed tones, my mother read to them from
'The Brothers Grimm.' Vlad occupied
a school desk. He leaned over a slate filled with arithmetic problems. Peering
over his shoulder, Ranulf offered his assistance on a tricky response. The
younger boy scrubbed his answer away and began again. "Your
daughter, Madam," von Helfin coolly stated, "will join your class.
She requires instruction and a keen eye. You will keep her occupied from now
on." Hastily, the
Baron withdrew. Wordlessly, the children stared at his retreating back, then
cast their eyes downward. Ranulf remained. His smooth brown eyes traveled from
my toes to my head as he leaned against the wall. I shuddered at his cool
observation and shot him a hate-filled glare.
"Christmas Eve, Mama," I announced dolefully. Swiftly, I
squatted before her and laid my head in her lap. Her blue eyes
surveyed me dully. A momentary light filled them and swiftly dissipated.
Rapidly, I began talking about the yule log, mistletoe, and decorating the
vicarage Christmas tree. Silently, Vlad rose. Vanda ran to him and buried her
head in his stomach. His long fingers combed her straggly black hair. Luiza
approached and placed her hand protectively on the back of her little sister's
head.
"Shush," Mama balefully admonished. "It's
Christmas, Mama," I whined, unashamed. Silently,
Ranulf ushered the children from the room. They ogled me as they passed, their
complexions as white as a bleached sheet. The door swung shut, leaving Mama and
me alone. "We
should celebrate, Mama," I pleaded imploringly. "Papa loved the
holiday. Don't you remember? He would want us to rejoice with glad tidings; he
would…." "Your
Papa's dead, Norah," my parent exclaimed unmercifully. "We have a new
life and must accept a new way of living. The Baron does not celebrate; he does
not wish…" "I don't
care what the Baron wishes," I rapidly stated. "How can you live with
a man against all our beliefs? How can you forget Papa and Grey Friars
and…?" Waith-like, my
mother rose from the divan. Absolute terror filled her eyes, and her mouth
turned downward in a snarl. Believing her emotion rose against the Baron, I
advanced on her. Stretching out my arms, I attempted to embrace her. The touch
of my fingers against her shoulder caused her to flinch backward. "Oh,
Mama, what has he done to you?" I exclaimed mournfully. I suddenly realized
she did not act in fear of the Baron. My words and my movements terrorized her. I paused,
staring at her sorrowfully. Folding my hands together as though in prayer, I
fell to my knees and pleaded with her. She looked past me blankly as though she
could not see me. Gathering her full skirt in my fist, I buried my head and
sobbed. "Don't
allow him to destroy you, Mama," I begged imploringly. "You're good,
Mama, good at heart. I love you. Please love me back." Impassively,
Mama stepped around me and drifted toward the door. Remaining on my knees, I
crawled toward her, grasping for her gown's hem. She hesitated momentarily in
the frame, then stepped beyond it. The Baron emerged from the shadows, and Mama
walked into his embrace. She cast one last look over her shoulders toward me.
Then, they seemed to evaporate into the stone wall. I threw back my head and
screamed like a banshee. ****** Startled, I
awoke in my turret bedroom. The morning sun shone a meager shaft of light
through the window slit. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I bolted up and gawked
at the solemn room. 'Nightmare,' I
muttered, half in terror-half relieved. A glowing fire
crackled warmly in the fireplace. My black stocking bulged from where it hung
from the mantle. Recalling the day, I leaped from the bed and dashed for it.
Hugging it against my body, I plummeted triumphantly to my bed. Gleefully, I
reached inside. My hand circled a hard lump. I pulled it out and stared at the
black coal. "Naughty
little girls get coal in their stockings," Papa admonished. His grave
gravelly voice floated from the bed hangings. My back
stiffened, and I turned toward the sound, expecting to see my beloved father.
For a moment, I believed I saw a wispy man's form. Then, I blinked, and he
disappeared. "Oh,
Papa, I try to behave," I whispered, tears forming, "but I want to go
home. I'm unhappy here." I absently
counted the coal"sixteen pieces"one for each year of my life. I squeezed my
eyes shut and wished for peppermint candy. Nevertheless, when I reopened them,
the black coal remained.
"Papa," I cried, reaching toward where I believed he stood.
"I need you, Papa. Oh, why did you have to die?" Rising slowly
from my bed, I gathered up sixteen lumps of coal. One by one, I flung them
through the window slit. Exhausting my supply, I flailed my arms and, tripping
on the carpet, fell to my knees. Filled with fury, I balled up my fists and
beat the floor, my feet thrashing behind me. "I have
never had the patience for spoiled children," Mrs. Balan remarked,
slamming the breakfast tray onto the table. "Stop this at once." Roughly, the
housekeeper grabbed my arm and pulled me up. She pushed me into the embroidered
chair and, swinging her arm back, slapped me across the face. My neck lashed to
the right, cracking loudly. I began to flail madly again. Mrs. Balan slapped my
other cheek. "How dare
you!" I hissed menacingly. "How dare you strike me!" "I'll
give you that and worse if you continue," the chatelaine threatened. "How dare
you," I sputtered again, less enthusiastically. "Be
silent." Mrs. Balan drew her hand back again, and I cowered. "Eat
your breakfast." She straightened her back and marched through the door,
slamming it behind her. I remained in
my seat, staring into the fire. Finally, I rose and, lifting my plate, flung
the morning scone into the fire. The porcelain teapot followed it and shattered
on the firebox bricks. The yellow and orange flames crackled when the hot
liquid touched them. Crossing my
arms across my chest tightly, I plunked into the chair and stared into the
blaze. A deep frown cut across my face, and I pouted. "A fine
way to spend Christmas day," I muttered. XVI A sharp
rapping awoke me from a sound sleep. I sat up and wearily gazed at the
mantlepiece clock. Its hands stood at exactly midnight. Wrapping my dressing
gown around me, I trudged toward the door. I flung it open, and Ranulf Zamfir
strutted in. I gaped at him as though he were an apparition. Tall and lean,
Ranulf bore a slight resemblance to his uncle. His sleek black hair glistened
in the dim moonlight. A slim smile upturned his sanguine lips, and his
penetrating brown eyes softened as they traveled over my body. "What do
you want?" I snapped, clutching my robe closed at the neck. "A lady's
bed chamber is a private…" "Your
mother requires your presence in the schoolroom," von Helfin's ward
tersely cut off my diatribe. "The
schoolroom?" I queried, perplexed. His statement took me aback wholly. "The
Baron ordered you to join the children," Ranulf curtly remarked. Clicking
his heels together, he bowed slightly and offered his arm. The previous
night's dream became a sudden reality. My mind whirled. Indeed, Baron von
Helfin intended that I join his offspring in their horrid nursery. I clenched
and unclenched my fists nervously. I could not imagine Mama as my governess and
the pallid children as my classmates. I shivered involuntarily. "We must
hurry," Ranulf urged, again offering his arm. I glared at
him disdainfully and swept past him. The Baron's nephew followed me down the
spiral stairway. At the rotunda, he gracefully opened the door and bowed again.
I held my head high and exited. I marched down the swooping main staircase with
Ranulf pacing at my side. At the bottom, he grasped my sleeve, halting me.
"Norah," my companion whispered when I turned upon him.
Smiling, he took my shoulders and bent me backward. His canines peeked over his
lips, but he swiftly closed them. "I…I…" He seemed to lose his
thoughts because he uttered, "Never mind," and proceeded toward the
cellar door. Our footsteps
echoed hollowly on the flagstone steps. Cobwebs clung to my dressing gown, and
my carpet slippers slid along the moss-grown floor. Warily, I peered through
the murk into a labyrinth of corridors. "Do not
penetrate further than the schoolroom chamber," my guide cautioned.
"You can easily get lost down here." Deep within
the cellar, a growl arose. A colossal dog emerged from the mist and lunged at
the iron grate. It bared its fierce teeth and gnashed the barrier violently. I
shuddered and inadvertently grabbed Ranulf's arm. He gazed down upon me
condescendingly, then his eyes softened. "Take my
advice, and no one will harm you," the nephew gently stated. "The
Baron's dogs reside in the kennels further along this corridor. They are
hunters and unfriendly toward newcomers. You do not wish to provoke them…or
Uncle Nicolai." "What
kind of dogs?" I tentatively asked. I shot my eyes toward the beast
hunched behind the bars. I could not make out the breed.
"Bullmastiffs," Ranulf replied, "specially trained to
kill at the Baron's orders. Diabolus, Dybbuk, Moloch,
Incubus, and Belial by name." I paused,
running the names through my brain. Horrorstruck, I gasped.
"Satan!" I exclaimed, my voice wavering with recognition.
"They are alternate names for Satan."
"Naturally," my companion remarked, rolling his shoulders.
"But…" I began. For a terrorized moment, I believed I stood at
the portals of hell. Taking an uneasy step backward, I bumped into my
companion. His hands encircled my shoulders, drawing me close. "Beyond
the grate, one of the dogs always roams freely. Today it is Moloch"the fiercest
of the five. Uncle favors him particularly," Ranulf curtly explained.
"However, he will not hesitate to release all the dogs if he discovers a
stranger in his private chambers. Do not enter; I cannot save you." "Save
me?" I questioned, startled. Why would the Baron's nephew offer to save
me? I gazed up at him and found his brown eyes surveying me wistfully. Ranulf did not
respond. Instead, he pushed open the schoolroom door and stepped aside. Bowing at
the waist, he waved me inside with an elaborate gesture. I brushed past and
entered. Vlad hunched over his desk and bent over an arithmetic book. Deep in
thought, he gnawed on the tip of his pencil. He looked up at me momentarily,
then quickly dismissed my presence. Mama sat on
the faded divan with Vanda on her lap. Luiza sat on a low stool at her side.
The older girl held the Brothers Grimm book and read from it out loud.
Squinting at the page, she stumbled on the words. I listened intently and recognized
the story of Rumpelstiltskin. "Thank
you for delivering my daughter," Mama stated absently. Ranulf clicked
his heels, bowed at the waist, and swiftly departed. When the door closed, I
shifted my attention to my mother. Immediately, I noticed her sunken eyes
within her skull-like face. Her pallid cheeks held no color whatsoever. Sinking
to my knees, I grasped her icy hand.
"Mama!" I exclaimed desperately. Her entire appearance alarmed
me. "You…you look exhausted. Why don't you take the night off, get some
rest?" "I expect
you to appear properly dressed for our next session," my parent briskly
cautioned, ignoring my comments. "Ranulf
awoke me from a sound sleep, Mama," I responded pertly. "I did not
know…I thought I had a nightmare and…"
"Nevertheless, the Baron insisted you join us for lessons,"
she firmly continued. "You will appear here at midnight from henceforth
and dress accordingly." "Why
midnight?" I demanded indignantly. "The
children awaken at the witching hour, my dear," Mama explained,
normalizing the time. "We must not disturb their schedule." "Disturb
their schedule!" I exclaimed hotly. "Since when do children wake up
at midnight? Since when do they study during the overnight hours? It's unheard
of, Mama! Children require a good night's sleep. Isn't that what you always
said?" "We must
do as the Baron requires, Norah," Mama chided half-heartedly. "We are
here at his will. I am his wife, and I must obey his orders." "Obey his
orders!" I shouted, my indignation growing. "Obey! Mama! NO! NO!
NO!" A firm
believer in the feminist movement, I strongly protested against men's dominance
over women. I believed Mama agreed with my stance. Never did I see her bowing
to Papa's will. They lived together in harmony. They often composed the weekly
sermon together. Once, when Papa suffered from influenza, Mama stood in the
pulpit to recite it. She claimed that women would become ordained the same as
men in the future. "Please,
Mama, listen to me." I tightened my grasp upon her hand. "Do not
allow the Baron to dominate you. He's crushing your spirit. You deserve better
than this." My mother's
grey eyes deadened and seemed to sink further into their sockets. I reached to
stroke her ashen locks. The dry strands crackled beneath my fingertips and
disintegrated into dust. Aghast, I opened my palm, and the particles drifted to
the floor. Her life seemed to drain from her veins before my eyes. Mama lived
but barely. Covering my
face with my palms, I sobbed bitterly. How much longer could Mama sustain life?
I wondered frantically. Railing against fate, I cursed the one-eyed coachman
for not appearing on the night of our planned escape. If our luck had held out,
we would have returned to London and forgotten about Romania and von Helfin
Castle. Mama called my
name gently, and I turned toward her. She remained on the divan with the two
girls close to her side. Deftly, she removed the book of fairy tales from
Luiza's hands and pushed it toward me. I stared down at it, dumbfounded. "Join us
and continue to read," Mama prompted, a solemn smile playing on her lips.
"You may select a story of your choosing." Absently, I
flipped the pages, considering each story intently. Finally, I chose 'Snow
White and Rose Red.' Luiza and Vanda turned their attention to me as I began to
read. Mama sat back and observed intently. Finishing, I closed the heavy book
and held it on my lap. "Read
another one," Vanda prompted eagerly. Although the
child's face remained solemn, I caught an eagerness in her voice. Her upturned
face brightened slightly with a soft rose tint. I reopened the tome and scanned
the table of contents. However, Mama removed the book from my grasp and snapped
it closed. "I
believe that is enough for one night," she announced sharply. "You
may return to your desks and open your grammar."
"Aw," the youngsters cried in unison. "Come
now, girls." Mama clapped her hands together briskly. "You must work
on your English grammar. Then, we'll move on to mathematics." The children
groaned but moved to their desks and began their assignments. At a loss, I
remained seated close to Mama. Finally, she turned to me and asked that I
assist Luiza. I squatted beside the younger girl and glanced at her slanted
handwriting. She struggled to copy the phrases Mama assigned her. "Can I
help you?" I asked, smiling gently. Luiza edged
over, making room for me beside her. In whispered voices, we discussed our
task. My limited ability to speak her language and her mind caused
complications. Nevertheless, we pressed forward until we began to understand
each other. Finally, Mama dismissed us, and I returned to my bedroom to sleep
the day away. XVII I sprawled in
my bed, staring at the emerald hangings above me. I expected Ranulf's rap on
the door at any moment. Night after night, he appeared to escort me to the
cellar nursery. I did not require his assistance; I knew my way alone after
several nights. Nevertheless, the Baron's ward made a point to appear precisely
at midnight. My thoughts
lingered on my encounters with Ranulf. Previously, I viewed him as an enemy.
However, as time passed, I began to regard him as my friend. Suddenly, he
seemed to care about my well-being and set himself as my protector. At midnight, I
entered the nursery and sat with the other children at my desk. At first, Luiza
dismissed me with a disdainful glare. A quiet, intense girl, she made me feel
like an outsider. Her pale skin and grim expression sent shivers down my spine.
Then, one night, her sanguine lips turned upwards in a half-smile.
"Hello." Luiza's voice rose to barely above a whisper.
However, she raised her hand in an awkward wave.
"Hello," I answered in the same soft tone. I twinkled my
fingers at the younger girl, causing her to giggle. "Ranulf
likes you," she remarked, inching her desk closer to mine. "He never
likes anyone."
"Really?" I sang out, causing Mama to glance sharply in my
direction. "Really?" I repeated in a lower tenor.
"Yes," my companion responded, bending her dark head toward
mine. Eagerly, I leaned in to share confidences.
"Girls!" Mama reprimanded, sharply banging her pencil against
her desktop. Wordlessly, I
opened my grammar book. Luiza copied my action. Silence prevailed in the
schoolroom as we bent over our assignments. Then, Vanda let out an unearthly
wail. Mama swiftly rose and hustled to the younger von Helfin sister. Angrily,
she yanked on the long dagger that pinned the child's braids to her desk. I
gaped incredulously at the ancient iron weapon with its bat-shaped hilt. "How many
times must I scold you for tormenting your sisters?" Mama exclaimed,
looming over Vlad's desk. The boy ogled
her contemptuously, his dark eyes narrow slits. Vlad's upper lip lifted
sardonically, and his pointed canines appeared. A low guttural hiss rose from
his throat, and he lunged toward Mama. She recoiled instantly, and he removed
the blade from her slack fist. Mama pivoted slowly and returned to her
seat. She folded her trembling hands before her and stared across our heads at
a point above the door. I stood to approach her, but she waved me back to my
desk. Finally, we settled into our books but could not concentrate. "Class
dismissed," my mother abruptly announced. Rising, she floated toward the
door and vanished into the corridor. Vlad swiftly
followed her, abandoning his open history book. I raced after them, expecting a
confrontation. However, they had moved beyond the iron barrier before I could
reach them. I clutched at the grating and yanked on it with all my strength.
Against the wall, I glimpsed two shadows, one bent backward and the other
menacing above. "Mama!"
I screamed, my voice echoing throughout the chamber. "Come
away, Norah," Ranulf breathed into my neck. Gently, he drew me away and
pinned me against the murky wall. "I
must…" I began, straining for release. "Mama needs me. I…" "There is
nothing you can do," the Baron's ward stated. "If you penetrate
beyond the gate, the dogs will shred you in no time. You cannot cross the
barricade." "But…" "I will
escort you to your room," Ranulf gently stated, drawing me along the
corridor. "I assure you, no harm will come to your mother. Uncle will not
permit it." Reluctantly, I
followed the nephew to the ground floor and then up into the turret. We paused
at the door momentarily. When he leaned forward as though to kiss me, I caught
a whiff of his repugnant odor. Swiftly, I recoiled and pushed open the door.
Stepping inside, I hesitated and caught the stark expression of disappointment
across Ranulf's face. Sighing, I closed the barrier between us and pressed my
back against it. After a while, I heard his retreating footsteps. I breathed
deeply, and the putrid odor I detected lingered in my nostrils. Hurriedly, I
poured water from the ewer into the basin and scrubbed my hands and face. The
sweet lavender scent flushed away the obnoxious smells quickly. Drying myself
with a fresh towel, I felt my body relax. "What is
that lovely scent?" Luiza asked from behind me. Surreptitiously, she
lifted the bar and breathed in deeply. "Lavender,"
I answered, rummaging in a dresser drawer. I handed my companion an unopened
bar. Although I only had two left, I unselfishly gifted it to her. "For
me?" Luiza inquired, clasping the small round package against her
undeveloped bosom. "Yes, for
you." I smiled and enfolded her pallid fingers inside my hands. I flinched
briefly at their icy, flexile texture. Then, recovering, I patted them
convivially. Luiza's lips
quivered, then broadened into a wide grin. The unique expression appeared
awkward at first. However, the girl quickly loosened up and fell backward onto
the bed, still clutching my gift. Her tangled black hair spread across the
emerald comforter, and she stared into the canopy. I lay down beside her and
followed her gaze. How different
we looked, I reflected. Luiza's faded woolen dress hung limply on her small
frame. It appeared centuries old in design. She wore black and white striped
stockings and heavily scuffed black boots. On the other hand, my rose-sprigged
poplin contrasted with her dark gothic aspect. Beneath my dress, I wore lacy petticoats
and white pantaloons. My white silk stockings were clocked from ankle to knee
with embroidered crimson roses. Pink slippers adorned my feet. "You're
pretty," Luiza breathed. Inadvertently she twined a strand of my soft
brown hair around her finger. "It's no wonder Ranulf likes you." I closed my
eyes and pictured the Baron's handsome ward. His mass of black hair framed an
aquiline nose, red lips, and penetrating brown eyes to perfection. A high
alabaster forehead and smooth rounded chin finished the picture. I imagined him
standing in the doorway, his pale hand outstretched to beckon me. As though in
a trance, I rose and drew him inside. I swung the door closed, and we embraced. My trembling
fingers combed into Ranulf's silky hair. My head fell backward, and my lips
parted in expectation. Gently, my lover bent over me and lowered his face to
mine. Then, instead of capturing my mouth with his, he bared his fangs and
plunged toward my exposed neck. I gasped and sat up, my dream fleeing into
oblivion. "Norah!"
Luiza screamed, grabbing me by the shoulders. Her frightened expression
startled me. Our eyes
locked for a moment, then shifted toward the door. Slowly, it creaked open. I
stared incredulously, expecting Ranulf's entrance. Instead, Vanda stood
shadowed in the aperture. Then, running inside, she plunged onto the bed. ****** "Tell me
about Ranulf," I asked Luiza. Arm-in-arm, we strolled through the castle
garden. The yellow
crescent moon smiled down upon us. Wistfully, I regarded the nightly grin. Papa
called it 'The Cheshire Cat' moon. Night after night, we gathered in the parlor
to hear him read from 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.' He enjoyed imitating
Lewis Carroll's magnificently imaginative characters. He developed a different
voice for each one. I enjoyed the White Rabbit, the Dodo, and the Tweedle
Twins, but the mischievous disappearing feline remained my favorite. The novel and
its accompanying sequel, "Through the Looking Glass," remained in the
bottom of my trunk. I cherished the few books I brought with me to Romania.
Perhaps, Mama would allow me to read them aloud in the schoolroom. I made a
mental note to ask her. In the meantime, I eagerly wished to know more about
Ranulf. "Aunt
Lavinia eloped with the stableboy at age sixteen," Luiza confided late one
night as we strolled in the garden. "Grandpapa and Papa chased after them
and discovered them at an inn on the road to Bucharest. They had already
married, and Auntie Vin revealed her pregnancy. Grandpapa brought them back,
and they lived in the hunting lodge on the other side of the forest. "Grandpapa
died shortly after Ranulf's birth, and Papa married. Vlad and I were born
eighteen months apart. Then, Mama died giving birth to Vanda," Luiza
paused, a sorrowful expression crossing her pale face. "Papa fell into a
deep depression. Day after day, month upon month, he sat before the fire
without moving. No one laughed or smiled. We no longer played games or rode our
ponies. Mrs. Balan took charge of Vanda"Papa wouldn't look at her." Tenderly, I
drew Luiza into my embrace. The girl stared into the middle distance for a long
time, tears forming on her lower lids. "Finally,
Ranulf appeared, demanding to see Papa. He claimed Uncle Claudiu had gone
insane. If Papa didn't act swiftly, Uncle would kill Aunt Lavinia," Luiza
flatly stated. "Papa and Ranulf rode off together. Auntie Vin died before
they arrived, and Papa fought with Uncle Claudiu. Papa destroyed Uncle, but he
and Ranulf both received terrible injuries. The encounter changed Papa's life
forever…and ours too." Luiza cozied
against my side, and I hugged her closely. Her young body trembled against
mine. Soothingly, I whispered tender words until she calmed. "Ranulf
came home with Papa," the girl finally continued. "He mopes around,
and sometimes he flares out violently. Our cousin never softened to anyone
except you. I've seen him watching you, and his eyes sparkle. He smiles at
you…and Ranulf never smiles." I sat against
the wall and gazed at the Cheshire Cat moon. The mellow grin cut the forbidding
starless sky, providing a safe haven. Perhaps, in my arms, Ranulf could find a
little warmth in the Baron's cold castle. I dreamed of melting his icy heart
and filling the void his lost family created. Ranulf
required love and attention to lift him from his deep depression. Determinedly,
I decided to provide it. In my loneliness, I yearned for love. Prentiss Wills
slipped from my life and my dreams. I no longer fantasized about returning to
England and marriage to the curate. My life led me in a new direction. I began to
question Luiza further about Ranulf. However, Helga Balan appeared in the
garden. The chambermaid hesitated a moment. Then, she pointed toward the east.
Dim light filtered through the dead woods, brightening the sky. Rising, my
young companion fled into the castle, her hasty footsteps beating a staccato on
the cobblestones. XVIII Helga rushed
across the courtyard and plunked onto the bench Luiza had vacated moments
earlier. I raised questioning eyebrows at my new companion. Since our aborted
departure from the castle, I avoided the chambermaid. Inadvertently, she had
told our secret to her grandmother, thus spoiling the planned escape. Madam
Balan informed Baron von Helfin, causing him to appear at the last moment. "What do
you want?" I imperiously snapped. I rose, but Helga grasped my arm. I
stared down upon her haughtily. "Release me!" I yanked my arm to free
myself, but her grip tightened. "I'm
sorry," the girl muttered, lowering her haunted eyes. "I didn't mean
to tell granny. It just came tumbling out." "Apology
not accepted," I coolly responded. Nevertheless, I regained my seat beside
Helga. Folding my arms tightly across my chest, I allowed a 'humpf' to escape
my lips. The sun peeked
over the horizon in the east, chasing away the moon's shadows. The dismal
courtyard brightened slightly. Behind us, the castle loomed darkly upon its
precipice. The yellow sun could not chase away our gloomy surroundings. Back to back,
Helga and I crouched on the stone bench. Harboring our own thoughts, we waited
for the other to speak. Silence prevailed between us as dawn took its grip on
the new day.
"Norah," Helga's hollow voice finally broke the stillness
surrounding us. "I'm not
speaking to you," I stated tersely.
"But…" I did not
respond. Instead, I stood and aimlessly wandered toward the high iron gate. The
long, windy road remained empty. Its barrenness exclaimed the stark isolation
of the castle and its inhabitants. My mind raged against fate as I clutched the
railing in desperation. Mama and I had walked into a trap that held no escape. "I wanted
to go to England with you," the chambermaid began again. Her sudden
appearance at my side startled me from my dark thoughts. "Next time…" "Next
time will never arrive," I responded in clipped tones. "You ruined
it, Helga, simply ruined it. Mama decided to leave this hellhole. Now we're stuck
here"probably forever. England is a fantasy, a fairy tale, a forbidden
myth." Briskly, I
pivoted and stormed toward the castle. I wished to put a long distance between
the betrayer of my plans and me. Holding my head high, I swooped past Helga and
grasped the door handle. She rushed behind me and inserted herself before the
castle entrance. "Ranulf
doesn't love you," the maid demurely stated. "He will use you just
like the Baron uses your mother." Her sudden
exclamation froze me on the spot. My mind whirled as I considered my budding
relationship with von Helfin's ward. At first, I had remained wary of Ranulf
Zamphir. However, as time passed, I realized he had my best interest at heart.
Several times, he had inserted himself between the Baron and me, thus
alleviating a distressing situation. I grew fond of him. Helga stood
before me, clasping her hands behind her back. Smirking, she rocked back and
forth on her heels. Grasping her shoulders, I tried to force her away from the
door. Nevertheless, she held her ground. I stared at her incredulously. "What do
you know about it?" I demanded in exasperation. "You are
not the first nor the last," Helga coyly announced. "First or
last what?" Anger filled my sharp inquiry. I grew furious with each
passing moment.
"Viccccctimmmm." The eerie elongated response echoed
throughout the lonely courtyard. Helga stood on tiptoes and, lifting her arms
above her head, shook her fingers wildly.
"Victim," I repeated disdainfully. "Oh, for God's
sake!" A sharp wind
howled and rushed through the courtyard. My long brown hair fell loose from its
pins and swirled above my head. Swiftly, the temperature dropped, and I
shivered. The denuded trees came alive with bats furiously flapping their
wings. "Let me
pass," I demanded, dodging quickly to the right. Helga followed
my movement, continuing to block my way inside. I dodged to the left, and she
mimicked me again. Our actions became a parody.
"Stop!" I yelled, grasping the chambermaid's shoulders to
force her aside. "Stop playing games with me." "Listen
to me, Norah," Helga implored, standing still instantly. She grasped my
coat sleeve and yanked hard. "I want to help you, make up for my mistake.
Pleeezzze." Suddenly, she fell to her knees and bowed her head in
submission. I looked down
upon her bare head. A stark white stripe of skin stood out against her dark
hair, where she parted it. The unkempt strands tumbled forward, covering her
face. Wistfully, she peeked through them, her dark eyes demure. I gnawed my
bottom lip with my front teeth. Did Helga sincerely wish to help, or was her
plea another attempt to gain my attention? In a way, I pitied Helga. Working
day and night in the castle provided little entertainment for a girl her age.
Lonely and forlorn, she desired companionship. She had probably never seen
other people besides the von Helfin occupants. My heart wept for her, and my
stance softened. "All
right," I finally conceded. Grasping
hands, Helga and I returned to the garden bench. I awaited her explanation
eagerly. However, the maid hesitated. She plucked a plain white handkerchief
from her sleeve and worried it in her fist. "What's
it all about?" I demanded, my patience dwindling. "Your
mama isn't the first governess," Helga hastily exclaimed. "You're not
the first governess's daughter. The Baron picks 'em special and coaxes 'em to
come. They're always down and out. Poverty-stricken widows with young daughters
are his favorites." I stared at Helga
incredulously. Her ability to fantasize grew audacious with each passing day.
Filled with frustration, I began to rise. Her restraining hand on my arm held
me back. "It's the
same, over and over," she continued, her breathing hastened. "Ever
since the Baron was bit…centuries ago."
"Centuries?" I guffawed, appalled by the extent of Helga's
lying. "You're out of your mind." I roughly
pried her clasping fingers from my upper arm and stood indignantly. Purposely,
I strode toward the door and grasped the handle. I yanked it open and stepped
inside. Helga grabbed me by the arm again and, sinking to her knees, began to
plead. I pulled away and swiftly stepped inside. The stout oaken door slammed
shut behind me. "THEY'RE
VAMPIRES," the little maid screamed as I shut her out. "VAMPIRES,
NORAH. PLEASE LISTEN! THE BARON, RANULF, THE CHILDREN"ALL VAMPIRES!!" Helga pried
the door open and raced toward me. I continued to march toward the dilapidated
grand staircase, my heels beating a rapid staccato on the flagstone floor.
Bowing my head downward, I plunged upward toward the wide landing. The maid's
voice followed me, reverberating around the empty hall. "YOU'RE
MAMA'S THEIR HOST; THEY'RE USING HER TO SUSTAIN THEMSELVES," Helga
continued to shout. "RANULF WANTS YOU. HE'LL ATTACH HIMSELF TO YOUR NECK
AND SUCK YOUR LIFE. PLEASE LISTEN, NORAH. PLEASE!" I hesitated at
the top of the stairway and, grasping the railing, turned. Below, Helga
scurried across the entranceway. When she reached the bottom riser, she
stumbled, and her ankles became tangled in her long black skirt. Still, the
young maid attempted to continue upward, gaining a half dozen steps. I cringed
when she collapsed with a thump and slid back to the ground floor. Beneath her
crumpled form, her left leg sprawled awkwardly at an odd angle. Instantly, I
realized she had broken a bone. Hurriedly, I
rushed down to help. However, Mrs. Balan appeared and assisted her
granddaughter to her feet. The housekeeper glared at me accusingly, and I
hesitated. Grasping the newel post, I watched them move slowly, painfully,
toward the kitchen. I finally moved toward them, but Mrs. Balan spun on me. "I will
attend, my granddaughter," she hissed menacingly. "You will not come
another step near her. You are to blame for this…this mishap. Leave us
alone." A sharp rebuke
rose to my lips, but the look on the chatelaine's face stopped me from uttering
it. Instead, I pivoted and ran pell-mell up the stairs. On and on, I ran along
the first-floor corridor, then up to the second and third. I did not stop until
I bolted the turret door. Finally, I dashed into my bed chamber and locked
myself in.
"Vampires," I muttered, hysteria rising in my voice. Crumpling
to the carpeted floor, I hugged my knees and sobbed. The sound echoing around
the still room shocked me. Alternating between high-pitched mirth and unworldly
howls, I did not recognize my own voice.
"Vampires," I repeated, my heightened tone diminishing.
"Vampires?" My mind settled,
and I wondered at the new word. It seemed vaguely familiar; however, I could
not place it precisely. Straining my thoughts, I pressed for a memory of the
term. Nothing came to mind. XIX The word
'vampire' haunted my thoughts. I rummaged through my mind's hidden places,
trying to bring it to light. For some reason, I should have recognized it.
However, no matter how hard I pressed my memory, I could not reveal its
meaning. "Perhaps…"
I muttered to myself, suddenly inspired. I dragged my trunk to the center of the
room and lifted the lid. Carefully, I removed my unused summer clothing and
stacked the folded garments on my bed. My most prized possessions, Papa's
books, lay across the bottom of the traveling crate. In the haste of our
immediate departure, I saved about twenty of our favorites. Slowly, I
shifted through the novels, searching for one that might hold a particular
clue. Many of them recalled special memories. Picking up LITTLE WOMEN, I
considered the charm of Louisa May Alcott's March Sisters. Papa presented it to
me as a birthday gift when I turned twelve. I immediately flipped through the
pages, promising myself I would re-read it. I placed the
book on my night table and returned to my task. Next, I selected Jules Verne's
AROUND the WORLD in EIGHTY DAYS. The adventures of Phileas Fogg and
Passepartout filled me with the excitement of world travel. Entranced, I
pictured myself floating amongst the clouds in a hot air balloon and racing
across America on a steam locomotive. Papa and I became anxious as we turned
toward the final pages. Would Fogg win or lose his impossible bet? Knowing the
answer, I returned the book to its place in my trunk. As an avid
reader, I became entranced by the selections quickly. Many of them drew me far
away from Castle von Helfin. I swiftly fell into a world of daydreams and
fantasies to escape my present horrors. As I clasped WALDEN, I recalled Papa's
admiration of Henry David Thoreau. My beloved father once cherished the ideas
of the Naturalist and Pacifist. I hugged the volume tenderly to my heart and
pictured Papa's serene smile. My world had
shifted significantly during the past months. I closed my eyes, and the castle
disappeared. Instantly, the parlor at Grey Friar's Vicarage appeared. The fire
crackled merrily upon the hearth, and Papa sat in his favorite chair. He poked
his lit pipe into the corner of his firm mouth and opened Dickens' A TALE of
TWO CITIES. Kneeling beside him, I leaned my head against his knees. I closed
my eyes and pictured the great guillotine towering against the lowering sky.
Madam Defarge knitted a long scarf as the Royals lost their heads one by one. "Read as
much as you can, as often as you can," Papa advised, closing the book but
holding the page with his index finger. With his other hand, he combed through
my soft brown curls. "Books are your friends; the stories within the key
to a world full of imagination." "Yes,
Papa," I muttered, smiling up into his twinkling grey eyes. I wanted to
read"to travel from adventure to adventure. "These
stories will take you to places you have never imagined," he continued,
lifting Lewis Carroll's fantastic fantasies, ALICE'S ADVENTURES in WONDERLAND
and THROUGH the LOOKING GLASS. Her many
curious adventures sparked my imagination. I often poured over ALICE while
sitting beneath the plum tree in the vicarage garden. Usually, I fantasized
about following the White Rabbit into his hole or stepping through the looking
glass. I drifted into Alice's Wonderland and joined the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. "Foolishness,"
Prentiss Wills exclaimed, breaking into my illusion. His sudden appearance
startled me. The curate
lifted the book from my hand and snapped it closed swiftly. Leaping to my feet,
I attempted to take it back. However, Prentiss held it behind his back. I
dodged to grab it, but his grip remained firm. "Divine
foolishness," I remarked, finally dislodging it from his grip. Prentiss
snorted derisively. "You
should not describe such flippancy as divine," the curate sternly
admonished. "Divine translates as Godly. There is nothing Godlike about
this drivel." "Papa
adores Lewis Carroll's books," I hotly exclaimed. I hugged my beloved
storybook against my heaving bosom and glared defiantly at Prentiss. "Beware the
Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that
bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub
bird, and shun The frumious
Bandersnatch!" I quoted from
"The Jabberwocky." Slowly, I rocked back and forth on my heels as the
words tumbled from my lips quickly. Then, I spun and raced into the churchyard.
My skirts tangled amongst my ankles, and I tripped over a grave surround. "Norah!"
Prentiss exclaimed, suddenly contrite. He fell to his knees beside me. Hastily, I tried to stand, but my ankle would
not support me. I winced painfully. An angry black bruise marked my leg
instantly. Carefully, the curate lifted me in his arms and carried me to the
vicarage parlor. He tenderly placed me on the settee before the roaring fire.
Dr. Murray arrived shortly after and declared I had twisted it. For the next
month, I rested with my ankle propped up on cushions. Tenderly, Prentiss
carried me from my bedroom to the parlor. He greatly sorrowed over my
affliction and blamed himself for causing my graveyard accident. However, the
opportunity to spend my time selecting reading material from the vicarage
library thrilled me. Papa presented
me with copies of Tolstoy's ANNA KARENINA, TESS of the D'URBERVILLES by Thomas
Hardy, and Nathaniel Hawthorne's The SCARLET LETTER. My heart panged over the
fates of the three tragic women. Then, KING SOLOMON'S MINES caught my
attention. As I turned the pages, I felt deeply entranced by H. Ryder Haggard's
handsome adventure, Allan Quartermain, and his search for the lost treasure. I moved the
books beneath my hands as though playing the shell game. As I did, I mumbled
the titles HEIDI by Johanna Spyri, The PRISONER of ZENDA by Anthony Hope,
George Eliot's MIDDLEMARCH and STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL and MR. HYDE by
Robert Louis Stevenson. Then, I rested my hand on LES MISERABLES. "The
poor, wretched ones," I muttered, flipping the pages of Victor Hugo's
masterpiece. "Mama and I are the poor, wretched ones now." A tear
glittered at the edge of my eye, and I dashed it away. My shoulders heaved.
Heavy-heartedly, I fought back my tears and lost. Sullenly, I
began to place the books into the trunk. One by one, I lovingly lined them
along the bottom. Bittersweet memories contained within the pages of beloved
old tomes brought back better days. Oh, those happy times of the not-so-distant
past! Mama was different. I missed her smile and laughter and the love she and
Papa shared. I had nearly forgotten the sense of security the vicarage
provided. Six books
remained. I placed Rudyard Kipling's The JUNGLE BOOK beside Hugo's novel.
VILLETTE by Charlotte Bronte followed it. I stared at the last four: Wilkie
Collins's The MOONSTONE, Thomas Hardy's FAR FROM the MADDING CROWD, and Sir
Arthurs Conan Doyle's first Sherlock Holmes adventure, A STUDY in SCARLET. The last book
remained a mystery. Papa brought it home from London on the fateful day he
killed a man. In my haste to pack, I had not removed the brown paper. Slowly, I
turned it in my hands, wondering what the small package contained. Then, I
ripped it open. "Yellow,"
I whispered, ogling the contents. My fingers trembled as I contemplated the
book. The significant color shocked me. It indicated that the story held
disreputable subjects. Bold red lettering stood out from the mustard-tinted
cover. I traced my finger against them. Dracula By Bram Stoker Papa and Prentiss argued over the newly printed novel.
The fervent curate insisted that it was unfit to read. On the other hand, Papa
decided anything 'unfit to read' required his attention. I leaned toward my
father's opinion. "Stay out
of it, Norah," Prentiss remarked when I spoke my mind. "Let the men
decide." My cheeks
flared at his biased viewpoint. According to him, men made all decisions. Women
had little say in any matter. That would certainly change, I determined, if we
were ever married. Many things would change…indeed, they would! "I have
the right to state my mind," I countered hotly. Tightening my fists, I
faced Prentiss. Behind me, my
father stood hastily and placed his hand on my shoulder, restraining me. He
knew my temper when it came to my feminist stance. Papa hated confrontations in
his home and always sought to avoid them. Nevertheless, I prepared to confront
the curate. "And you
would read that filth?" my father's assistant stated coolly. "I
certainly would!" I responded, rising to the bait. I folded my arms
tightly across my heaving bosom. "If Papa says it's all right to read it,
I intend to and gladly." When Papa
journeyed to London, he always stopped at the bookseller's. He constantly kept
his selections a surprise. All day, I anxiously anticipated his return. I hoped
he would decide to purchase the Stoker novel, although Prentiss disapproved.
Then, catastrophe struck, and the book lay forgotten in its wrapper. Eagerly, I
stretched across my bed on my stomach and opened the first page. Jonathan
Harker's Journal entranced me immediately. XX Enthralled, I
lay across my bed and began turning pages. Suddenly, the similarities between
the unearthly story and our existence in von Helfin castle fell into place. I
compared the Baron's midnight activities against the fictional vampire
'Dracula.' Then, I associated the red pinpricks on Mama's neck with those of
Lucy Westenra. Slamming the
book closed, I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed. The danger of our
current predicament alarmed me. When Mama gave her life in marriage to Baron
von Helfin, she did much more than wed him. She sacrificed her entire existence
for his preservation. Blood! Nicolai
von Helfin thrived upon it. Like Dracula, it sustained him. His progeny, Vlad,
Luiza, and Vanda, shared his need. And Ranulf… Abruptly, I
sat up. Ranulf! I had to admit I had grown fond of the Baron's nephew. He
seemed genuinely concerned about my welfare. I could not bear to think of him
as the same ilk as the rest of the dreadful family. Emotionally
exhausted, I sank into sleep. The day passed into night, and I continued in my
slumbers. When I finally awoke, I discovered Ranulf hovering beside the
bedpost. The soft moonglow lit his dark hair and brightened his crimson lips.
He became alert to my awakening and dragged a chair toward my bedside. Perching
at its edge, he leaned forward to brush my hair away from my face lightly. Finally,
Ranulf noticed the Stoker novel and lifted it. He flipped through the pages
casually, then began to study it intently. Frowning, he finally closed it but
continued to hold it on his lap. "I have
heard rumors such a book existed," he eventually stated. "Until this
moment, I doubted the truth of the reports. I had not seen it myself." "It
belonged to my Papa," I answered, gently removing it from his grasp.
"It was the last thing he bought. He left the booksellers and encountered
a man raping a woman. He did not recognize her as a prostitute. Papa fought the
man and killed him." The words
tumbled from my lips quickly. I had not intended to speak on personal matters. "You
cherished your Papa," Ranulf remarked soothingly. "You brought his
books with you, I see." He rose and stood above my open trunk. I hastily
wrapped my dressing gown over my flannelette nightie and knelt beside the
traveling crate. Picking up a book randomly, I lovingly ran my hand over the
smooth cover. Ranulf peered over my shoulder and read the title. "Ah, The
PRISONER of ZENDA," he stated, his smile widening. "It's rather newly
published, is it not? I have not seen this one either." "You
enjoy reading?" I eagerly asked. "I enjoy
storytelling," the Baron's ward responded, kneeling before my trunk again.
"I haven't read a novel in quite some time. I cannot find the time any
longer." "Oh,
well, I…" I hesitated momentarily before plunging onward. "I intend
to ask Mama if I can read to the children. Perhaps you will join us?" "Perhaps."
Ranulf's voice seemed to drift away. "Tell me more about your Papa." "Papa
loved his position as parish vicar. He loved the church and devoted his life to
his parishioners." I rushed my words, eager to talk about my deceased
father. Ranulf backed
away as Papa's story tumbled across my lips. His face paled, and a sharp snort
issued from his nostrils. I stopped speaking abruptly and stepped toward him,
reaching out my hands. "Tell me
about your father and mother instead, Ranulf," I encouraged, pulling him
back to his chair. "Luiza began to tell me. I would like to know." I
perched on the bed and leaned forward keenly. "My
mother loved my father dearly," my companion wistfully stated. "She
married far beneath her station in life, and he could not keep up with her
standard of living. Papa fell into debt and gambled heavily. He lost, and we
became penniless." "I am
sorry, Ranulf." My fingers reached toward his hand, and I grasped it.
Tenderly, I brought it against my cheek. "Papa
became involved with a nefarious creature," Ranulf sighed, his face
contorting with distress. "I recall seeing a horrid form lingering in the
forest surrounding our home. After midnight, Papa used to sneak out to meet
him. That loathsome beast offered my father everlasting life in exchange for
repayment of our debts. Papa"always gullible"accepted. The Baron's
ward covered his face with his hands. His shoulders heaved. Inching closer, I
flung my arm around his shoulder. Ranulf returned my embrace, burying his face
in my bosom. "My life
changed so drastically," he finally continued. Sorrow filled his voice.
"Papa disappeared. Finally, when he returned, he came back a different
man. He drained Mama's life before we understood what had happened. Then, he
turned to me. I fought back and, freeing myself, ran to Uncle Nicolai. "The
Baron returned with me, but we arrived too late to save my mother. Some days, I
can still hear Uncle's unearthly howls when he discovers Mama's inert body.
They ring in my ears and echo around my head." Pain etched
itself across Ranulf's pallid face. The room grew eerily silent as we sat upon
the canopied bed. His arms tightened around my body, pulling me closer. "Papa
appeared, a shadow of himself,” my companion finally continued. “The Baron
attacked him and forced him back. While they grappled, Uncle picked up a jagged
stave from the wood box. He plunged it into my father's heart, destroying him
instantly." Thunder
cracked outside; a jagged streak of lightning brightened the night sky. I
leaped in my skin at the fierceness of the sudden storm. Terrorized, I forced
my way out of Ranulf's grasp. I stood before the fire, and my head hung
downward. "It was
too late for Uncle Nicolai, Norah." Ranulf stood behind me, his hands on
my shoulders. "In the struggle, Papa infected him. Uncle, in turn,
infected the rest of us." I trembled.
Fear gripped my heart as I turned to face my companion. VAMPIRES! Helga's wild
exclamations proved true. Wildly, I cast my eyes toward Bram Stoker's
yellow-covered novel. Fact and fiction suddenly intertwined. "Norah,"
Ranulf pleaded, his hands outstretching toward mine. "I…I love you, Norah.
Never have I known love as I do now. Please, Norah…" "I…"
I stammered, backing away. Rapidly, my
mind flew in every direction. For a moment, I hovered over my acceptance. My
fondness for Ranulf grew. I thought of him idyllically as I once thought of
Prentiss Wills. However, my thoughts ran toward a normal relationship"love,
marriage, and eventually, children. Under the circumstances, my most basic
longing could not come to fruition with the Baron's ward. Then, I
considered Mama. Was this how the Baron approached her? Was this how he
convinced her to become his ungodly pawn? Did he promise her love in exchange
for her ability to give him life? I could not follow in her footsteps. "Save me,
Norah, save me," Ranulf begged, falling to his knees. The Baron’s
nephew grasped my dressing gown's skirt and buried his head in the soft folds.
I entwined my hands in his rich black hair and held him lovingly. XXI Absently, I
combed my fingers through Ranulf's luxuriant dark hair. He glanced upward, his
brown eyes pleading. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. Tenderly, my lips
formed his name.
"Ranulf." I liked the sound of it on my lips. I repeated it in
a whisper and held him tighter. I desired him,
longed for him with the insistence of a woman desperately in love. Gently
lifting him to his feet, I laced my arms around his neck and strained toward
him, my body eager for love. Our lips met momentarily. Then, he roughly threw
me aside.
"Norah…" Ranulf choked on my name. Emotion etched his pallid
features, and a lone tear hung from his lashes. "I… I'm sorry." Aghast, I
stared up at him. I sat up and rubbed my elbow. A deep purple bruise appeared
following my collision against the fireplace fender. Ranulf instantly squatted
beside me. "I didn't
mean to harm you," he explained, solemnly kissing my injury. "I'm
sorry." Silence hung
between us. His anguished expression eclipsed my annoyance concerning his
sudden rough treatment. Reaching out, I caressed his arm tenderly. "I will
never become the man you wish for," the Baron's ward whispered. Raw
emotion filled his voice. A hangdog expression filled his face. "I cannot
love you as a man loves a woman. I cannot fulfill you or produce
children."
"Ranulf…" I began, gnawing my lower lip. His abrupt confession
shattered me. "I am
dead and alive simultaneously, Norah," he continued, casting his dark eyes
toward the carpeted floor. "We live by night and thrive upon human blood
for nourishment. And, so, you see, I cannot love you in the way you expect. I
haven't a man's ability to make love to you." Leaning
against the fireplace mantle, Ranulf suddenly slammed his fist against it.
Then, he buried his head in his folded arms. I approached him comfortingly, but
he shunned me. "Ever
since I first met you, I longed to become a man…a real man," the Baron's
ward continued, sobbing. Angrily, he palmed his face, wiping away his tears.
"I have never felt emotion until I encountered you. There is something
inside me that yearns to break free." "If I can
help you, I will," I promised, leaning my head against his shoulder blade.
"Tell me what to do?" "There is
nothing," my companion sulked, "nothing you can do." "But
surely, there's a way out," I stated determinedly. "Uncle
Nicolai has long sought a solution," the nephew countered. "If there
were a way out, he would find it." "I will
find a solution," I vowed, clutching my fisted hands. "I promise you,
Ranulf, I promise." The Baron's
ward spun on me, his expression fierce. He advanced, and I stepped backward,
fearing his sudden anger. Then, he stopped and spread his hands beseechingly. "How can
you help?" he asked, his defeated voice barely a whisper. "We became
trapped in this situation years ago"centuries. Uncle has searched for a
solution since our dilemma first began. He has traveled the world and tracked
every lead. He has failed at every attempt."
"Centuries?" I muttered, my voice rising with hysteria. Helga
used the word centuries frequently. I dismissed her exaggeration quickly. Ranulf's
use of the word stunned me. "1232,
Norah," my companion stated, "the year of our infection. We strive by
night, half alive, half dead. We go on and on without end. Each day adds to the
centuries of our never-ending existence."
"Helga…" I began. "Helga,
Mrs. Balan, Godoired Cazacu"they are all under Uncle's spell," Ranulf
explained, "They live by Uncle's will; they serve us when necessary.
When…"
"When?" Digging his
hands deep into his pockets, Ranulf slouched toward the door. He opened it and
cast a wistful look over his shoulder. Then, he disappeared. I ran after him
and clattered down the spiral staircase. The corridor below remained empty.
Perplexed, I wondered how I could have missed him.
"When?" I whispered, leaning against the oaken door. When,
what? When were the servants called upon to perform their duties? I shook my
head woefully. Then, I recalled Helga speaking of other governesses and other
governesses' daughters. She claimed we were not the first nor the last. Slowly, I
climbed back to my turret bedroom. I could not understand how Ranulf
disappeared so quickly. For a moment, I hesitated. Then I swung open the door
to Mama's abandoned chamber. Ranulf had not ducked inside. Wistfully, I
entered. I wished I could run to Mama as I had in the past. Her bed
remained unslept in. I peered inside the wardrobe at the clothing she never
wore. Gently, I lifted the yellow dimity dress she purchased for Easter
services. It pleased her to replace her awkward hoops for the gathered bustle
in the back. Proudly, Papa extended his arm to escort her to the church. She
sashayed beside him as though attending her first date. Dark grey and
stark black replaced her pretty pastel dresses and Chantilly lace shawls. Mama
no longer wore her frilly hats with long curving ostrich feathers. Instead, her
straggly gray hair hung lankly along the sides of her drawn face. I longed for
my fun-loving Mama and the tinkling sound of her joyful laughter. Sullenly I
replaced the dimity amongst the rest of Mama's old dresses. The faint scent of
lavender lingered, although I detected an invading musty odor. Sooner or later,
her pretty clothing would mold and disintegrate along with the rest of Castle
von Helfin. I closed the wardrobe and leaned against the door. Disheartened,
I stepped onto the circular landing. High in the shadowy rafters, a bat hung
upside down. I glanced up at it and dismissed its presence. The eerie creatures
did not alarm me as they had when I first arrived. However, when I reached to
open my door, its fluttering wings startled me. Swiftly, I raised my arms to
shield my face from a sudden attack. When I lowered them, Ranulf stood before
me.
"You?" I questioned, aghast. "You can
call it an advantage or a disadvantage," my companion responded,
shrugging. "Do you
often spy on me from that vantage point?" I huffily inquired.
"Sometimes," Ranulf confessed. "Sometimes, Uncle
Nicolai."
"Oh." The color drained from my face, and then it flushed
hotly. Grasping
behind me for the door handle, I pushed it down and practically fell into the
room. Slamming it closed, I leaned against it. My heart pounded against my
ribs. Then, I cracked the door and peered into the corridor. It appeared empty. I sunk into a
velvet brocade armchair and covered my face with my hands. I did not appreciate
the Baron spying on me. Had he watched me undress? Did he know my bedroom
secrets? I shuddered, and my heart sank.
"Norah?" I glanced up
when Ranulf whispered my name. A black bat flew in through the window slit and
perched on the chair's arm. Then, it transformed into the Baron's ward.
Tenderly, he lifted my chin and gazed into my eyes. "I… I'm
sorry, Norah," he softly stated. "I want to protect you, so I watch
you. Uncle Nicolai insists I…." His sorrowful eyes drooped as he cut off
his statement. "I refused, Norah. I won't harm you." "What
does Uncle Nicolai want?" I questioned, perplexed. Ranulf turned
away, his head bowed. His shoulders quivered. "Please
tell me, Ranulf," I pleaded, approaching him. Tenderly, I laid my head
against his muscular shoulders. "He wants
your blood, Norah," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "He wants me
to take you…suck your life from your beautiful body….drain you of all your wonderful
vibrance. I…I cannot do it." The Baron's
ward spun to face me and dropped to his knees. He buried his face in my skirt.
Beneath my comforting hands, his body trembled. "I told
him NO!" Ranulf sobbed. "At first, I eagerly longed for you. I wanted
you as my host, just as your mother is Uncle’s. Instead, I fell in love with
you. It has never happened before now. I've always… always…" Ranulf rose
and drew me close, placing his arms around my waist. His lips met mine, and we
kissed. Then, he abruptly broke away again and turned his back on me. "Uncle
contends the time is right now. He says you are ready for me to take you,"
the Baron's nephew stated, clutching his hands into fists. "He becomes
more and more insistent. If I don't act soon, he will." A deadly
silence fell between us. Instantly, fear gripped my heart. I sank onto the bed
and covered my face with my hands. The Baron prepared to take me as he took
Mama. He would step into Ranulf's place to drink my life's blood. I could not
bear the thought. "I watch
you, Norah, so that I can protect you. He's biding his time, also
watching," my companion continued. "One day, he will strike. I am
prepared to fight him for your life." Suddenly, I
realized the danger I now faced. XXII I sat behind
Mama's school desk with a book opened before me. Vlad and Luiza sat
side-by-side on the divan, with Vanya seated on the floor in front of them. I
cleared my throat and began to read. "The
PRISONER of ZENDA." I cleared my throat. "By Anthony Hope." I stumbled
over the first words, but my voice strengthened as I completed the opening
paragraph. Vlad leaned forward and propped his elbows on the knees of his green
velvet knickers. Instantly enthralled, he mouthed the words as I spoke them aloud.
Luiza showed an interest equal to her brother, but Vanda tuned me out. Her eyes
grew blank; then she scurried off to her desk. Drawing a piece of paper toward
her, she began to scribble with her coal. The door
creaked open. I paused my recital and glanced up, expecting Ranulf. Previously,
he promised to listen to my reading. Instead, Baron von Helfin leaned in the
door frame. His beady reddened eyes swept over me, sending shivers down my
spine. "Please
join us, Nicolai," Mama encouraged, scuttling toward her husband. She held
her hand out invitingly. "Norah narrates beautifully." The Baron
glared down upon my mother and glowered disdainfully. She seemed at a loss for
a moment, then resumed her place behind me. A lump formed in my throat, and I
hastily swallowed it. My voice faltered when I began to read. Vlad and Luiza
squirmed beneath their father's scrutiny. Unperturbed, Vanda continued to draw.
Nothing seemed to phase the youngest child. On and on, my voice droned. My
enthusiasm for the story drained under the pressure the Baron inserted into the
situation. Realizing I
became the object of his evaluation, I became nervous. My heart beat wildly,
and I stumbled upon the text I recited. Finally, Mama leaned over my shoulder
and closed the book gently. "We will
stop here and pick up again tomorrow," she announced, to my relief.
"In the meantime, let's take up the geography lesson for the day." Despite the
change of topic, von Helfin remained in the door jamb until Mama finally
dismissed the class. Hastily, I closed my book and, rushing headlong past the
Baron, sprinted up the cellar staircase. I did not stop until I stood in the
courtyard and breathed in the cool night air. "Papa
seemed interested in the PRISONER book," Luiza commented, appearing close
beside me. "Oh…oh
yes," I responded absently. "The Baron did seem interested. I…I guess
he put me on edge. I couldn't concentrate after he arrived." "The same
thing happens to me," my classmate confided. "He makes me nervous
sometimes. Vlad too"although Vlad won't admit it." "I…I
expected Ranulf," I stammered hopelessly. "He said he wanted to hear
the story. When the door opened, I thought he…" "Papa
sent my cousin away for a few days," Luiza stated dismissively. "He
had a mission to fulfill and…well, he should return by the end of the week or
maybe next week. I don't quite know." The blood
rushed from my face suddenly. A feeling of vulnerability enveloped me. Left
without protection, I became immediately alarmed. My body swayed, and, for a
moment, I thought I would faint. "You look
frightened," Luiza remarked, hooking her arm around my elbow. Slowly, she
led me on a stroll around the decrepit garden. "There's nothing to fear.
Papa won't harm you." Although I did
not believe her, Luiza's comment soothed me. I relaxed and bent my head closer
to hers to share secrets. Over the months, the Baron's daughter and I grew
closer. Our conversations improved her English; although she spoke with a heavy
Romanian accent, I understood her perfectly. From a
distance, we might have appeared like average schoolgirls. We bent our heads
close together and giggled occasionally. We talked about the latest Paris
fashions, famous dance steps, and"our favorite subject"boys. "I'm
practically engaged to Prentiss Wills," I confided confidentially.
"He's the curate at Grey Friar's"Papa's church." I struggled to
recall Prentiss's face momentarily. Nevertheless, my companion's next statement
turned my attention away from my faraway fiancé. "Ranulf
and I became betrothed on the day of my birth," Luiza remarked, kicking
away a loose stone with her toe. "Papa intended to request a dispensation
so we could marry. You know we're first cousins. Mama and Papa were cousins
also." For a moment,
I stood stark still. Jealousy raged inside me as I thought of Ranulf married to
Luiza. Then, recalling the situation, I relaxed. Day by day, my love for the
Baron's nephew grew stronger. "Do you
remember your Mama?" I asked, changing the subject. "Oh
yes," my companion breathed, sighing. "Mama was beautiful"dark and
mysterious. She had gypsy blood, Papa said. Often, at night, she danced in the
moonlight. Vlad and I watched her from up there." She indicated a sizeable
third-floor balcony facing the courtyard. "After Vanya was born, she
disappeared. Everything changed. Suddenly Papa became a different man, and we
all became different. But I remember the old days, and so does Vlad. Vanya
doesn't"she only knows the way things are now." "My life
was different, too," I remarked, sinking onto a stone bench. "It
changed after father's execu…death. I always felt we were so rich"perhaps not
in a monetary sense"but we were so safe and secure. Then, we lost everything. A
new vicar took over the church, and we were homeless. Mama had to take a
position, but no one would hire her because of Papa's notoriety. And, so, we
came here." "I'm glad
you came here," Luiza blurted, grasping my hands. "If only I could be
like you…If only…but I can't. We're cursed, Norah, cursed." She leaped up
and dashed into the castle, covering her face with her hands. My footsteps
led me back to the schoolroom. Sliding behind my desk, I opened a book of
poetry. Luiza did not appear. Mama called us to attention and asked Vlad to
recite. Dolefully, the Baron's son narrated Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Raven.' Each
'nevermore' echoed eerily against the rafters. Vanya stared at her brother's
moving lips, entranced. As dawn
approached, the Baron reappeared in the doorway. Mama dismissed the class
quickly and rose to join her husband. I rushed away but halted at the cellar
stairway. Clinging close to the damp wall, I slid back and watched. Von Helfin
led the way toward the iron barrier and, with a key, unlocked the gate. One by
one, Mama and the children followed him. My eyes
trailed after the eerie group. Then, when they disappeared, I approached the
barricade. Fisting the iron railings, I shook them. In the depths of the
cavern, the dogs bayed menacingly. Two appeared and charged the gate, their
teeth bared. I hastily stepped back, trembling. "Diabolus,
Belial," Baron von Helfin snapped, materializing from the chamber's dark
inner sanctum. The
bullmastiffs slunk to their master's side and hunched threateningly beside him.
Deep in their throats, they continued to growl. Caressing their heads with his
lean, pale fingers, the Baron calmed them. "Step
closer to the gate," he sharply ordered. Instead of
obeying, I moved backward, my feet sliding on the damp flagstones. I slipped
and righted myself. Suddenly the
Baron strode toward me. I did not see him unbar the gate. When I glanced toward
it, I noticed it remained locked. I gulped, realizing that a barrier could not
hold him. Before I could flee, his hand encircled my arm. I tugged furiously to
release myself. "Stand
still!" von Helfin snapped, grabbing my other arm. Pulling me close, he
forced me to look into his dead expression. His piercing
gaze froze me on the spot. Unable to resist, I stared into his hypnotizing
eyes. My body refused to respond to my urgent necessity to escape. "Curiosity
killed the cat," he hissed ominously. "Satisfaction
brought her back," I immediately retorted, my voice sounding numb in my
ears. "Satisfaction
is not an option," the Baron quipped. "Until you and Ranulf obey my
commands, my private chambers are out of bounds. Are we understood?" "The Lord
is my shepherd," I recited the twenty-third Psalm. My soft, meek voice
rose in crescendo. "I shall not want." Outside,
thunder and lightning crashed. A loud screech echoed against the mildewed
cellar walls. A mist arose and swirled above the flagstones. I stumbled
backward and fell. Above me, von Helfin dissipated as though a part of the
vapor. My feet scrambled beneath me, and I plunged for the stairway. Up and up,
I flew until I reached the safety of my chamber. I stood with my back against
the door, panting for breath. Throwing the
bolt, I relaxed. Then, a phantom figure rose from my bed. My heart stopped,
then began to beat rapidly. A scream rose in my throat. Desperately, I
attempted to suppress it. "It will
go better for you if you obey the Baron," Helga Balan remarked, her voice
hollow. "I did
not invite you into my bedroom," I hissed, advancing on my unwelcome
visitor. Helga sat
crossed-legged on the bed and shrugged. Falling back onto the mattress, she
stared into the canopy. I stood above her menacingly, wondering how her broken
leg could heal quickly. I avoided her presence following the last incident when
she fell down the stairs. "I said I
did not invite you into my bedroom," I repeated, hovering above her
threateningly. "I'll go
where I please," the young maid arrogantly responded, "when I
please." "You will
not," I sputtered defensively. I lunged toward Helga. However, she swiftly
rolled over, evading my grasping fingers. "The
Baron always gets his way," Helga stated, ignoring my statement. "You
better get used to it. Your mother accepted the situation." "Von
Helfin might control Mama," I responded indignantly, "but I'm not my
mother." "Suit
yourself." Mechanically,
Helga rose and strutted toward the door. For a moment, she hesitated and turned
back. I waited for her to speak breathlessly. Her pert lips parted, then she
shrugged again. Spinning, she pulled the door open and vanished. XXIII I raced out of
my room and leaned against the banister. Below, Helga trotted down the spiral
staircase. Momentarily, I saw her retreating back, then she turned and
disappeared into the curve. The
scene repeated over and over until she reached the bottom landing. Then,
swinging open the door, she finally vanished altogether. I let out my pent-up
breath and returned to my bed chamber. Once, I
believed Helga and I were friends"until she betrayed my escape plans. After
that fateful night, I began avoiding her, only making contact when necessary.
How desperately I required a companion! I longed for someone to confide secrets
with, to comfort me in my distress. Nevertheless, I could not trust the little
maid. Moments ticked
away, and then a knock sounded on the door. Purposely, I marched toward it and
swung it open. "What do
you want now?" I demanded my hands on my hips. "Your
breakfast," Reveca Balan sternly announced. I stepped
back, astonished. I had expected to find Helga outside the door. Narrowing her
eyes suspiciously, Mrs. Balan entered, carrying a tray. "My
apologies, Madame Balan," I demurely stated. "I thought Helga had
returned." Reveca Balan
sighed and set the tray down on a small table. Her shoulders sagged dejectedly. "You must
not pay attention to my granddaughter," the housekeeper remarked.
"she is full of high spirits and gypsy blood. Her tongue runs faster than
her brain." "Gypsy?"
I questioned, stunned. For the second time in a few hours, gypsies played a
part in a conversation. First Luiza, now Madame Balan. "In the
spring and fall, gypsies camp in the woods beyond the castle precincts,"
Reveca Balan sharply explained. "The Baron allows them to remain for two
weeks"and only two weeks. Then, they must vacate his property immediately.
Nevertheless, that amount of time provides ample opportunity for them to make
their mischief. "My
beautiful but high-spirited daughter, Ilinca, ran away with one of those filthy
gypsies," the housekeeper spat out disdainfully. "The following year,
I discovered a basket outside the kitchen door"inside a nameless baby girl. I
instantly knew where she came from"my child's leavings. I named her Helga after
my mother. "That
girl became a nuisance on the day of her arrival," Mrs. Balan confessed,
sinking into the brocade chair. She covered her face with her hands, and I
knelt to comfort her. "That one is always into trouble." "I am
sorry, Madame Balan," I remarked, taking her hands in mine. "If there
is anything I can do, anything…." My heart wept
for the poor foundling child. Her wayward mother did not want her; her
grandmother accepted her out of pity. Throughout the years, Helga grew up in
the foreboding castle. Friendless, she eagerly clung to anyone who showed her
the slightest attention. Although
approximately the same age as Vlad and Luiza, Helga would never gain their
friendship or sympathy. She remained a part of the staff and, as a result,
could not mix with the Baron's children. However, since Mama began as an
employee, the maid considered us on a particular par with each other. She
cultivated my friendship, but her attempt did not attract me. I found her
repulsive and insufferable. "Madame
Balan," I began again. I squeezed her hands reassuringly. Helga's
grandmother suddenly froze as though stricken. She rose mechanically and strode
toward the door. She turned to face me, her eyes full of sorrow. Her usually
solid shoulders sagged, and she bent her head in shame. "I have
said too much," the chatelaine proclaimed bitterly. "My granddaughter
brings me great sorrow. However, I don't want to speak to you in such a
way." I advanced
toward her, hoping to offer consolation. However, the housekeeper swiftly spun
on her heel and exited. I stared after her, wonderingly. The appearance
of gypsies always caused a sensation at home. At the approach of midsummer, a
band of unwelcome nomads set up their camp on the outskirts of town. Several
church ladies partitioned Papa to affect their immediate removal. However, my
father could not control occurrences outside the town's precincts. The
townspeople surreptitiously filed out to their field despite the multitude of
complaints. Inside the brightly painted caravans, the gypsies read palms or
gazed deeply into their crystal balls. Papa noted, with chagrin, that several
complainants appeared amongst the eager group. On midsummer's
eve, the gypsies built a massive bonfire in the field. They played their
fiddles, guitars, and cymbaloms late into the night. Becoming drunk on
vodka-infused libations, our local residents joined the celebration. "Drink
leads to licentious dancing," Prentiss Wills grumbled at the tea table.
"Licentious dancing leads to fornication." "Such
words," Mama breathed, holding her hand against her heart, "are not
meant for speaking aloud at the meal table. You must consider Norah,
Prentiss." "I am
considering Norah, Isabella," the curate countered harshly. "Last
summer, three young local girls became pregnant with gypsy offspring.
"One"young Marsha Allen"disappeared completely. She ran off with one of
those rogues, no doubt." "Papa
warned me against mingling with gypsies, Prentiss," I stated demurely.
"You shan't worry over me." "Ah, but
I do, my dear," my father's assistant remarked. He widened his eyes and leaned
across the table toward me. "You are young and impressionable, Norah. You
require guidance." I shrank
against my chair in astonishment. Fervently, my mind whirled for a quick
rebuke. I started to speak, but Papa cut me off swiftly. "I will guide
my daughter," my father commented coolly. "Until you take your
marriage vows, she remains mine to care for and to instruct in moral
behavior." Prentiss gaped
at Papa momentarily, then slowly closed his open mouth. His back straightened
pertly, and he readdressed his meal. I praised Papa for his interference and
breathed a sigh of relief silently. ****** "Imagine
getting pregnant by a gypsy," Amity Bradshaw whispered breathlessly. Following Mrs.
Balan's departure, I stood in the small aperture and gazed through the window
slit. The talk concerning gypsies brought back vivid memories of midsummers'
past. Amity and I
grew closer as we grew up. Often, following our school dismissal, we went up to
my bedroom. Occasionally, Mary Wilson joined us, but more often, she had chores
to complete. Side by side, we spread across my vicarage bed, cycling our legs
in the air. "Patience
Floyd is only twelve," I stated, mentioning one of the impregnated girls. "Yeah,"
Amity sighed, shaking out her long blonde curls. "Marsha Allen"the
innkeeper's daughter"ran away with the gypsies. Her brother, Melvin, saw her
run across the field and leap into the back of their caravan." "Papa and
Prentiss joined the search party," I added, sitting up abruptly.
"They looked for miles' 'round but never found her." "I wish a
renegade gypsy would sweep me off my feet and carry me away into the
night," Amity stated furtively. "Perhaps next year…" My
companion sat beside me and hugged a pillow to her heaving bosom. "We'll
run away together, Norah, and have an adventure. You don't really want to marry
Prentiss, do you? He's such a bore." She rolled her eyes into her head. Silently, I
lost myself in thought. I often lost patience with the curate. His unbending
religious stance unnerved me. Although Papa trained me in spirituality, he also
taught me to show compassion toward non-believers. He believed in free will and
claimed that all people had the right to choose their lifestyles. My father
declared that we should not interfere with the practices of others or force our
beliefs upon them. On the other hand, Prentiss believed everyone should think
and believe as he did. Young girls'
pipe dreams, I thought, my daydream dissipating. I lifted the lid off my
breakfast tray and gazed down upon Madam Balan's freshly baked scones. I sat
and buttered one. As I ate, I wondered
about Amity Bradshaw. During the previous year, she left for Switzerland and a
girls' finishing school. Her father, the local squire, arranged her departure. Amity and I
spoke about the Swiss school many times. My friend insisted that she could make
her Papa pay my way. I would have loved to have joined her. However, events
interfered with our plans. Papa killed a man and died for his crime. Mama and I
traveled to Romania and became the Baron's pawns. Following my
breakfast, I washed and curled under the covers. Strange, I thought, how
quickly my body assimilated to sleeping during the day. XXIV The days began
to pass without a sign of Ranulf's return. I grew lonely, frustrated, and
anxious. I entered the nursery schoolroom each night at precisely midnight.
Completing The PRISONER of ZENDA, I began Victor Hugo's LES MISERABLES.
Although Luiza listened intently, Vlad lost interest quickly. As I narrated, he
picked his fingernails with his ancient dagger. His nonchalance unnerved me,
and I slammed the book closed. "I'm
sorry, Mama," I moaned in despair. "I…I cannot continue." I rose
and ran from the stifling room swiftly. Entering the desolate garden, I plunged
toward the stone bench and plopped down.
"Norah?" I glanced up
to find Luiza hovering above me. "May I
sit with you?" The Baron's daughter asked. She perched next to me without
waiting for a response. "What's the matter?" "I
shouldn't have selected LES MIZ," I answered, twisting my hands in my lap.
"I feel miserable all the time. I guess I…" I could not continue to
speak. "Do you
miss Ranulf?" Luiza questioned, edging closer. Her hip touched mine, and I
felt comforted. "I…"
I stared at my companion blankly for a moment, then rushed on, "I feel
safer when he is close at hand." "And you
don't feel safe here?" my companion asked. Her black eyebrows rose
questioningly. "I…"
I stumbled again, my fears rushing forward. "I…No, Luiza. I don't feel
safe here. The Baron…your father… he wants…" "I know
what he wants," Luiza remarked, grinning. The points of her sharp canines
flashed whitely in the moonlight. "He wants it for all of us. It is the
only way we can sustain life. Without your blood, we cannot survive." I leaped to my
feet hastily. My companion stood also and edged closer. A vein throbbed in my
temple, and my brain pulsated behind my forehead. Taking a quick step backward,
I stumbled on a cobblestone. I sat down hard, and Luiza knelt beside me.
Suddenly, Vlad appeared and joined his sister. Together, they attacked"the girl
focused on my neck, her brother on my temple.
"STOP!" The loud demand echoed throughout the courtyard. A
black bat swooped from the wall and beat its wings at the children furiously. Hastily, the
siblings rose and ran toward the castle. The heavy oaken door slammed.
Struggling for breath, I sat up. My stomach churned, and, leaning on my side, I
vomited onto the cobblestones.
"Norah?" Ranulf squatted beside me. "Are you all
right?" "I…"
Relief overcame me instantly. "Yes, I am…now." "I will
escort you to your bed chamber," the Baron's ward stated. He helped me
rise gently, and we returned to the castle together. "I missed
you," I stated once we crossed my bedroom's threshold. "I don't know
what I would have done if you hadn't appeared. Vlad and Luiza…they…" "They
have become desperate," Ranulf stated. He guided me to the bed and sat
down beside me. "Uncle sent me on a fool's errand to Mongolia. I returned
as quickly as possible." I leaned my
head against his shoulder, and he tenderly drew me close to his side. Although
my heart continued to beat rapidly, I relaxed beneath his grip. My companion
leaned down and kissed my forehead affectionately. I drew great comfort from
the Baron's nephew. Hours seemed
to pass while we continued to sit in the silent bed chamber. Then, the first
rays of dawn slanted through the window slit. Abruptly, Ranulf's spine
straightened, and he became alert. "I must
leave you now," he whispered, rising. I grasped his arm, urging him to
stay. Nevertheless, he moved toward the door. "Where do
you sleep?" I asked, clinging to his side. Together we descended the
circular stone staircase. "Will you show me?" "We sleep
beyond the gate in the cellar," Ranulf flatly responded. "I cannot
show you unless…." "Unless I
comply with the Baron's wishes," I finished tartly. I halted our progress
and reached out to caress Ranulf's pale cheek. He turned and clutched my arms
above the elbows.
"Norah," he whispered, edging his face closer to mine. For a moment,
I believed he would kiss me. Throwing back my head in expectation, I invited
Ranulf to press his sanguine mouth against mine. Instead, his lips parted, and
he plunged toward my throat. I felt a sharp prick and pulled away. My companion
straightened and peered down at me sorrowfully. "I'm
sorry," he whispered, turning his back on me. "I did not mean to… I
did it impulsively. I try desperately to contain my desires… I can't always… My
strength fails me." I embraced
Ranulf from behind and laid my head against his shoulder. I longed to tell him
I understood, yet I did not fully comprehend. "Norah, I
do not wish for you to become one of us," the Baron's nephew finally
confessed. "I want you to remain as sweet and gentle as you are now." "Oh,
Ranulf," I sobbed, heartbroken. I longed for a normal relationship with
him. After a while,
we continued downward. Our hands automatically entwined, and I caressed
Ranulf's icy hand with my warm fingers. He smiled, his lips curling upwards in
a vague posture. I realized facial expressions were new to him. "Do you
have a beau?" Ranulf inquired. We stood in the great hall at the bottom of
the grand staircase. The rising sun had not penetrated the west-facing space,
and we remained in the shadows. "Mama and
Papa wanted me to marry Prentiss Wills," I stated dismissively. "He
assists Papa as the curate at Grey Friars." At the mention
of the church, Ranulf withdrew. I heard him suck in his breath and noticed him
cringe. "I
thought I loved Prentiss," I rushed to continue. "Papa became very
fond of him, but I worried about his prudish behavior. I mean to say he's very
religious and doesn't believe a man and woman should sleep
together"intimately"until after marriage. He would embrace me, but we never
kissed." Stepping away,
I faced the vast window and looked at the wasted garden. Beyond, the forbidding
mountain loomed against the grey sky. I imagined Prentiss"his face stern and
grim. He would never swerve from his unrelenting beliefs. Frequently, he
recited from the Bible, taking the Word of God literally. For a long
time, I assumed I could crack him. I longed to melt the ice and explore
romance. Prentiss remained unrelenting; he lacked any amorous emotions. To him,
love and marriage were a duty he felt resigned to fulfill. He believed God set
him upon the earth to 'go forth and multiply.' The sexual act would never bring
him the pleasure I desperately sought. Far away, in
England, I accepted Prentiss Wills as my destiny. Papa and Mama wanted the
marriage and pressed me toward a relationship with him. Facing Ranulf, I
realized I could not oblige my parents' dearest wishes. I wanted more from
life"love, passion, and an everlasting bond with a soulmate who understood my
heart. I wanted
Ranulf"the real man behind the vampire. I gazed upon him lovingly. In my eyes,
he was more than a frustrated young man trapped in an unforgiving unreality. I
reached out to touch him, and he embraced me. "Jekyll
and Hyde," I whispered, caressing his pallid cheek. "You're Jekyll
and Hyde." The good guy
and the bad guy wrapped into one. I considered the Robert Louis Stevenson story
as I struggled to understand Ranulf. I determined to thaw the Baron's ward if I
could not succeed in melting Prentiss. Confusion
crossed my companion's face momentarily. He seemed to struggle to grasp my
statement; his face suddenly brightened. "Aw, the
good doctor who drank a potion and became a fiend," the Baron's ward
acknowledged. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he finally grinned.
"Am I a fiend, my love?" "You are
my dear, sweet friend," I responded happily. When we fell
into each other's arms, Ranulf captured my lips and kissed me passionately. My
heart throbbed uncontrollably, and I deepened our embrace. Around us, daylight
filtered into the vast chamber. Abruptly, my lover pulled away, and his pallid
face blanched. He spun on his heels and fled toward the cellar doorway.
Instantly, he disappeared. I remained
rooted to the spot for several moments. Drained of emotion, I reclimbed the
grand staircase and returned to my turret bed chamber. Barring the door, I
climbed the spiral staircase and collapsed onto my mattress. Staring into the
canopy, I muttered, "He loves me; he loves me not." My hands made the
motions of plunking petals from a daisy. "He loves
me!" I finally exclaimed, sitting up with delight. Then, I flopped onto
the bed and hugged myself gleefully. XXV Mama did not
appear in the schoolroom. During the past several nights, she seemed lethargic.
Her pale skin stretched across her skull of a face like thin gossamer tissue.
Taking her frigid hands in mine, I stared into her translucent pupils. "Are you
all right, Mama?" I asked, my distress growing strong. "I am
fine, my love," she whispered, her pale pink lips barely forming the
words. "I need a rest, that's all." "Are you
sure, Mama?" I asked, my heart thumping loudly behind my heaving bosom.
"Perhaps we should call the doctor? Surely there is one in the
village." "There is
no need to worry, Norah, dear," my mother assured me. She patted my hand,
hoping to comfort me. "A rest will do me a world of good. The Baron is
going hunting soon, and I'll regain my strength. It will not take long." I accepted her
response with trepidation. Mama continued to weaken. Her shadowy form moved
lethargically along the underground corridors. Once or twice, I caught her
leaning against the stone wall. Her breath came in shallow gulps, and she
wheezed almost constantly. She barely mustered the strength to speak. Mama's gray
hair hung in unruly strands surrounding a drawn face. Once, she had proudly
fixed her hair before the vicarage mirror. Adorning it with splendid, feathered
hats, she poised beside my father on the church porch. The parishioners praised
her beauty, and she vainly drank in their compliments. After months beneath the
Baron's thrall, her brittle locks began to fall out in massive clumps. I could
see her colorless scalp underneath the few stands remaining. Suddenly, Mama
disappeared. Anxiously, I awaited her appearance with mounting trepidation.
Vlad, Luiza, and Vanya ogled me menacingly. They sat on their seat edges and
threatened me with their exposed canines. My eyes shifted toward the door,
willing it to open, wishing for Mama. An immediate
feeling of loneliness surrounded me. Without my mother, I had no support, no
sense of home. The hours ticked past slowly, and my anxiety level rose to its
crescendo. I leaped to my feet and slammed my hands upon Luiza's desk. The girl
stared up at me with a languid expression pasted upon her frozen face. "Where's
my mother?" I severely demanded. I hovered above her desk, hoping to
intimidate her. My schoolmate
lackadaisically lifted her shoulders and then let them fall. The Baron's eldest
daughter stared at me blankly. "You know
where she is," I accused, icicles dripping from my voice. Luiza
continued to appraise me serenely. Vlad stood and placed his hand protectively
on his sister's shoulder. Vanya joined him, crowding in close to his side. The
boy wrapped his other arm across her shoulders and pulled her against his body.
"WHERE'S
MY MOTHER?" I screamed, slamming my hands against the desk again. I
directed my question toward the three von Helfin children. "Keep
your voice down," the Baron instructed. He strode through the door, calm
and relaxed. "There is no need to shout." "I want
my mother," I insisted, spinning toward my nemesis. "Where is she?
What have you done with her?" "You have
no concerns about your mother's whereabouts," Nicolai von Helfin
countered. He placed his icy hands on my shoulders and locked his red pupils on
my startled face. Instantly, I
fell under his hypnotic stare. His glassy orbs dilated and undulated as they
locked onto mine. Mustering all my willpower, I broke free and placed my gaze
upon the far distance. "Her
safety is my concern," I remarked, regaining my self-control. I defiantly
forced my eyes back to von Helfin's pallid face, hoping to force a response. Time stood still. I would not back down.
Neither would the Baron. Simultaneously, Vlad and Luiza edged closer to their
father, forming a human triangle. Menacingly, they joined their gaze with his
inhuman stare. Vanda wiggled between her brother and sister to stand beside her
parent. The Baron placed his youngest child in front of him and held her around
the shoulders. Suddenly,
Luiza bared her fangs and plunged toward me. I hastily stepped backward and
felt the slimy wall against my back. She raced forward like a streak of
lightning. My arms automatically flew up to protect my face against her attack.
In a flash, the Baron intervened.
"Luiza!" I pleaded, stretching my arms toward her. "I
thought of you as a friend. How swiftly you turned on me!"
"Friends?" the girl shrieked vehemently. "I have no
friends." Von Helfin's
daughter lurched forward again, but the Baron held her tightly. Fiercely, she
struggled for her freedom. Behind her, Vlad inched closer, his fangs protruding
from sanguine lips. Vanya advanced on his heels. "My
children hunger for you," Nicolai von Helfin declared, tightening his grip
on Luiza. "I ordered Ranulf to proceed with your initiation. My nephew
betrayed me. I intended to step into the breach. However, I cannot control my
children when their hunger is upon them." The Baron
stepped away hastily, and the youngsters swarmed toward me. Vlad, Luiza, and
Vanda advanced, their fearsome fangs protruding. Trapped, I edged toward the
door, my back sliding against the mossy wall. If I could reach the cellar
corridor, I could escape. Full of fear, I grappled for the door handle. Again
and again, I reached for it and came up empty. Then, it swung open of its own
accord.
"Uncle!" Ranulf gasped, stepping into the horror chamber. Swiftly, he
moved between me and the advancing children. Holding out his arms, he drove
them back. The children snarled and hissed at their cousin. Vlad flew upon
Ranulf, beating his fists against his relative's chest. Leaping suddenly, Vanda
sunk her teeth into her cousin's wrist. Valiantly,
Ranulf beat the children off. On her hands and knees, Vanda attempted to crawl
between his legs, but he kicked her away. Luiza scratched unmercifully at
Ranulf's face with her sharpened fingernails. Vlad lasted the longest,
plummeting his cousin in the stomach with tight fists. Ranulf finally grabbed
him by the collar and heaved him against the wall. Defeated, the three children
slunk away to cower behind their father's back. "How dare
you to interfere," von Helfin hissed, advancing toward his ward.
"Leave at once." "Not
without Norah," my rescuer announced, roughly shoving me into the
corridor. He followed me and hastily shut the door. "Quickly!" Grabbing my
arm, Ranulf dragged me upstairs. My legs twisted beneath me in my haste, and I
stumbled. Quickly, I righted myself and plunged onward. Our feet clattered up
the grand staircase and along the mildewed corridors. I ran out of breath and
fell to my knees abruptly. My lover squatted beside me and tried to pull me to
my feet. "Quickly,
Norah," Ranulf urged, his earnest voice hot in my ear. "We're nearly
there." Regaining my
strength, I stood and leaned against the wall. The turret door seemed miles
away. Slowly, I shook my head. Ranulf swooped me into his arms and swiftly
rushed along the long hallway. Weighted by his burden, he struggled up the
spiral staircase and finally set me on my bed tenderly. Then, he bolted the
door rapidly. "It will
not hold them," my lover confessed, leaning against it. "If they want
in, they will get in."
"I…I…" I stammered, staring wide-eyed at Ranulf. "You must
get away, Norah," the Baron's nephew exclaimed, sitting beside me.
Wrapping his arms around my quaking shoulders, he held me close. We remained
locked together in each other's arms until the sun peaked through the window
slit. Then, Ranulf pulled the heavy velvet curtains around the massive bed,
shutting out the daylight. Entwined together, we fell into a fitful sleep. XXVI I awoke each morning
with dread in my heart. Behind the safety of the bed curtains, I clung to Ranulf.
He remained vigilant although the tension between von Helfin and his ward grew thicker
with each passing day. However, he could not remain with me constantly. Often,
in the night, he ventured into the castle and returned with food he stole from Mrs.
Balan’s kitchen. Although I ate
hungrily, Ranulf did not touch a morsel. When I urged a plate of goulash on
him, he roughly pushed it away. Please eat
something, Ranulf,” I coaxed, replacing the plate before him. “You grow thin,
and I can see your veins through your transparent skin.” Dolefully, he
shook his head, his eyes full of sorrow. I urged the meal on him again, but he
continued to refuse. “You don’t eat
human food,” I finally remarked. “You need blood. Why don’t you take mine?
We’re together day after day yet you never try to nourish yourself on my
blood.” “It is
difficult for me to refrain, Norah,” my companion responded. He strolled toward
the window slip and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Mournfully, he
gazed out into the far distance. “Instinctively, I want to"I need to. It’s
difficult to restrain my urges, but I love you.” He turned to me pleadingly. “I
cannot hurt you.” “I appreciate
your efforts, my love,” I responded, relief flooding me. “You are starving.” “Uncle and the
children are starving too,” Ranulf stated, worry filling his voice. “They could
burst in at any moment. They could overpower both of us and… But they don’t. I
cannot understand it. Why is Uncle playing this cat and mouse game with you?” The days
passed one after the other without a movement from the Baron. I remained in the
turret, never setting foot beyond the oaken door at the bottom of the spiral
staircase. Von Helfin and the children stayed in the cellar and Ranulf
patrolled the ground floors. Finally, my companion erupted into my bed chamber
with an announcement. “Uncle has
postponed his hunting trip for too long,” Ranulf remarked, grasping my hands
firmly. “We depart at midnight.” “We…?” My
heart sank. “I must,” my
companion stated, lowering his hooded eyes. “I cannot delay any longer. I
promise I will return as swiftly as possible.” “I…I
understand,” I answered, a lump growing in my throat. I hated to lose him even
for a brief time. Ranulf said
his goodbyes shortly before midnight and the von Helfin menagerie departed.
Although I missed my lover, I breathed a little easier following the Baron
departure. Nevertheless the terror remained. Aimlessly, I wandered about the
castle. Reveca Balan watched me, pitifully. She cooked lavish meals, hoping to
draw me out of my lassitude. I thanked her but ate little. One day, I wandered
in the cellar. I stood in the empty schoolroom and my depression deepened.
Longing for my mother, I whispered her name. It sounded empty in the hollow
space. I returned to the corridor and headed for the stairs. The Baron’s
departure provided me with a means of release. However, I could not depart
without my mother. Somewhere within the dank castle she reposed"dead or alive.
I had to locate her. Then, I could consider my escape plan. “You miss your
Mama,” Helga meekly stated. She joined me on the garden bench one dismal
afternoon. Mournfully, I
nodded. Although I had previously avoided the young maid, I turned to her for
companionship. It helped to have someone close to my age nearby. Fighting back
my tears, I spoke to her of my fears. “My granny
will know where she is,” Helga offered, eagerly rising to her feet. “If she knows,
why hasn’t she told me?” I questioned, imperiously. Surely, Reveca Balan understood
my longing for my mother. “Not that
granny. My other granny,” my young companion exclaimed. Grasping my hand, Helga
dragged me toward an ivy covered wall. Thrusting aside the growth, she revealed
a solid oak door. “My gypsy granny.” Beyond the
egress, we stepped into the dark, gloomy forest beyond the castle precincts.
Hastily, I trotted behind Helga. The little chambermaid navigated the hidden
paths with familiarity. We traveled a great distance before emerging into a
wide clearing. Six gypsy caravans stood in a rough circle around
a fire. A black cauldron hung over it. The scent of lamb stew filled the area.
I paused to peer inside, but Helga urged me forward. An old woman sat on the
stoop of a faded red painted wagon. Her thin mouth grinned toothlessly when she
espied my friend. “Granny!”
Helga exclaimed, rushing into the old woman’s arms. Gently, she kissed the
wrinkled cheek. “Welcome,
Granddaughter,” the ancient gypsy woman greeted. “What brings you all the way
out here?” “Tell Norah’s
fortune, Granny, quickly,” Helga shouted, dancing in anticipation. “Tell her
where she can find her Mama.” I held back in
dismay when the old gypsy cackled merrily. I did not believe in fortunetelling.
Prentiss called it a scam"declared the ancient wanderers heathens. However, my
desperation concerning my mother’s whereabouts drove me forward. Helga and I
entered the caravan. The Granny
Woman lit a candle and plunked down in front of a crystal ball. Crooning softly
beneath her breath, she waved her gnarled hands over it. A mist rose inside the
crystal, and she leaned closer. “The bell in
the well in the dell,” the gypsy sang, her cracked voice becoming melodious.
Again and again, she repeated the incantation. “Nonsense!” I
exclaimed, breaking the eerie stillness surrounding us. “Utter nonsense.” Spinning, I
raced from the caravan and plunged into the forbidding forest. The gypsy’s
cackling followed me, echoing amongst the black trees. Helga grabbed my arm,
pulling me to a stop. “Cross the
gypsy’s palm with silver, Norah,” she cried, terror escalating her voice.
“Cross it with silver otherwise you are cursed.” “Cursed?
Nonsense!” I shouted, charging through the dense forest. Dried leaves crunched
beneath my heels. Helga did not follow me. Finally, I
emerged. The forbidding castle loomed above me. I sucked in my breath and
strode toward the oaken door in the wall. Before I entered, Helga appeared
behind me. “I did it,
Norah. I gave Granny the silver,” she announced, pushing the door opened. “You
are safe.” “I still don’t
know where Mama is,” I sobbed, spinning upon my companion. “The bell in the
well in the dell. What does it mean?” Helga shrugged
and rushed toward the kitchen. I watched her retreating back disdainfully. XXVII Suddenly,
wells obsessed me. I wandered around the castle, peering into everyone I
encountered. Mrs. Balan caught me leaning over the kitchen garden well's stone
surround. Rushing to my side, she grabbed me around the waist and pulled me
away. "Don't do
anything foolish, girl," the housekeeper briskly admonished. I stared at
her incredulously. Then, it occurred to me that she thought I meant to throw
myself over the edge. I quickly assured her I had not intended to commit
suicide by drowning. "Stay
away from that well," Mrs. Balan sternly warned. "The mortar is weak
and could break away under a little pressure. You could tumble in before you
can save yourself, my dear." "Yes,
thank you, Madame Balan," I murmured, backing away. Then, I turned swiftly
and raced inside. Absently, I
roamed around the great hall. I longed for Ranulf. Perhaps, he could unravel
the mystery of the well. He knew the area much better than I did, at any rate.
Lonely and depressed, I continued my forlorn search of the castle. Finally, my
footsteps led me into the dank cellar. I stood before the iron gate, peering
between the railings. It rattled when I pushed upon it and moved slightly. I
pressed my shoulder against it and shoved it further. Inch by inch, it finally
swung open. Entering the
forbidden chamber, I peered through the murky darkness. The kennels appeared
empty. I knelt before them, searching for von Helfin's ferocious dogs.
Apparently, the Baron had taken them with him to assist in his hunt. Relieved,
I ventured through the labyrinth of winding corridors until a vast cavern
opened before me. Lining the
floor, I discovered six wooden coffins. Their lids lay canted upon their sides,
leaving the interiors exposed. Red satin padding covered the bottom planks with
matching pillows. I knelt beside the final one and lifted a scrap of Mama's
favorite lace. I grasped it and caught a whiff of her lavender scent. I sat
back upon my heels and held the scrap against my throbbing breast. I could not
imagine my dainty mother sleeping in such a horrible place. Slowly, I
returned to the castle courtyard and paced the cobblestones. I clung to Mama's
lace and called to her mentally. If only she would appear and comfort me as she
often did my younger self. "Oh,
Mama!" I cried, desperately wishing for her. "Mama!" On and on I
trod. I paced one way, then turned, a walked around counterclockwise. I
continued to clutch her lace and mutter her name. "The bell in the well in the
dell," I finally found myself chanting. Again and
again, I repeated the gypsy's meaningless incantation. It meant nothing but
nonsense. The crazy utterings of a senile woman left me lost and without
foundation. If only I could grasp the significance of the chant. I sat on the
bench and continued to repeat the phrase. The dell! I
paused, considering the word. It wound around my brain, repeating and
repeating. Suddenly, it made sense. I rose and rushed into the castle.
Furtively, I searched the rooms until I located the chambermaid. "Where is
the dell?" I shouted, shaking Helga by the shoulders. "Tell me: where
is the dell!" "The
dell," the little maid mused, pressing her index finger against her lips. I stared at
her impatiently and shook her again. Her head bobbled back and forth on her
shoulders. "Now, Helga!" I screamed, finally
releasing her. "I don't have time to wait!" "In the
forest, beyond the gypsy camp," my companion finally exclaimed. "If
you wait, I'll take you there." I could not
wait. Helga barely uttered her response before I spun on my heel. I sped into
the garden and yanked open the hidden door. Frantically, I raced into the
forest and quickly became lost. Crooked branches beat at my head as I plunged
onward. I stumbled over a root and fell flat on my face. In a moment, I heaved
myself up and raced forth. The western
sun peeked through the barren branches, sinking further into the earth. Soon,
darkness would descend. I had to locate the dell before nightfall. Finally, the
forest opened, and I staggered into the clearing. The crumbling
well stood in the midst of the dell. I tottered toward it and clutched the
edge. A loose stone broke away and tumbled downward. Desperately, I grappled
for purchase and saved myself from tumbling over the edge. Far, far below, a splash
echoed, and the water rippled. I sat against
the side of the well, my breath hitching in and out of my heaving chest. I
caught a large gulp and held it. My heart slammed against my rib cage, and
tears sprang to my eyes. "Control
yourself," I sternly commanded. I waited a minute, two minutes, an
eternity. Finally, I
pulled myself to my knees and leaned forward. Darkness greeted me. I looked
away and looked again. Slowly my eyes grew accustomed to the murkiness beneath
me. I leaned further and peered into the well's depth. A sallow face wavered
beneath the water's surface.
"MAMA!" I screamed, the word echoing and re-echoing around the
sparse valley. I fell to my knees and covered my face with shaking palms. I
sobbed. XXVIII I sluggishly
paced my bedroom floor. I had to escape from von Helfin Castle. Mama's floating
body in the well haunted me when I closed my eyes to sleep. I could not eat
without gagging; I spent my nights tossing and turning behind the velvet bed
curtains. The longer I remained, the worse my horror grew. I did not
hesitate to gather my belongings together. Instead, I rushed pell-mell down the
circular stairway and into the great hall. Cautiously, I peered around,
expecting the Baron or Revaca Balan to appear. The massive space remained
empty. Step by step, I inched toward the solid oaken door. Cracking it open
wide enough to slither through, I exited into the courtyard. Godoired knelt
beside the garden bed, his back to me. He would not hear my footsteps on the
cobbles as I passed. Sucking in my breath, I boldly strolled past his crouching
form. The high iron gate squealed when I pushed it. I wavered momentarily,
throwing a furtive glance over my shoulder. The handyman continued his task,
unaware of my presence. I sighed with relief and stepped outside the castle
precincts. Beyond the first treacherous curve, I began to run. I sprinted
along the steep path, putting the dreaded castle behind me. The sleepy village
in the valley appeared much closer to the castle. My feet began to ache, and I
slowed to a walk. Finally, my heel broke. I plunked onto the road to remove my
shoe. Angered by the mishap, I rose and threw it over the cliff. Then, sitting
down again, I removed the other one. It followed its mate over the jagged
precipice. Barefooted, I
continued. Frequently, I peered behind me, expecting to find the Baron on my
heels. I dreaded another confrontation with my mother's murderer. If he
attempted to force my return, I would adamantly refuse. "Oh,
Ranulf," I muttered fretfully. Any hope of reforming my lover dissipated.
His departure with his uncle sealed our fate. "A
vampire requires nourishment, Norah," the Baron's nephew pleaded, grasping
my hands. "I must survive on human blood." I turned my
back on him, tightly folding my arms beneath my bosom. I realized he, too, had
leeched onto my mother. He claimed he had to take her sustenance. I loved him
but hated him for using her in such a way. I hated the whole idea of vampirism. Life is a
series of twists and turns; I consoled myself. One never knows where one will
wind up in life. The entire
diabolic incident changed my life forever. Beginning with Papa stepping into
that horrible fight and his subsequent execution, my world altered drastically.
It culminated in Castle von Helfin"the vampire's lair. Why had Mama
chosen Romania to begin anew? We could have gone to America. When the worst
times hit families, they packed up and moved to Boston or Philadelphia. Mama chose
Romania"a godforsaken place. She stepped into the vampire's trap and lost her
life to his bloodsucking family. I continued to
mutter as I plodded along the steep rocky path. The terrain chewed at my tender
feet, causing them to bleed. Still, I propelled myself onward unrelentingly. I
planned to locate the one-eyed coachman. If I insisted, perhaps he would assist
with my purchase of a train ticket. I hoped I had enough money tied up in my
handkerchief. I only possessed those few meager coins. Mile after
mile, I trudged. The steep incline wound around the cragged mountain. I could
see the village over the cliff's edge; then, it would disappear. It appeared
closer and further away intermittently. Stumbling on a
sharp stone, I fell, scraping my knee. I began to crawl, desperate for
survival. Finally, I halted and caught my breath. I stood on trembling feet and
began, again, the downward trek. Sweat beaded
on my forehead. My hair fell from its clips and surrounded my face in an unruly
tangle. I brushed it aside harshly and stumbled onward. Finally, I turned the
last bend, and the village sprawled before me. Desperately, I staggered onto
the main road. "Help
me," I croaked, my knees buckling beneath me. I fell to the ground and lay
prostrate in the middle of the avenue. I regained
consciousness slowly. I did not know how long I remained in my faint. Hours
might have passed or mere minutes. Exerting all my remaining strength, I rose
to my elbows and gawked. No one appeared to assist me. Standing, I
turned in a slow circle. The deserted road showed no sign of people traveling
along it. The faded storefronts loomed against the dismal sky. A faint sign
hung by a solitary hook and banged hollowly against a wooden post. I gasped. Where had the
villagers gone? I wondered, perplexed. When we arrived, the coachman greeted us
at the train station. He quickly loaded our trunks and assisted us into his
conveyance. As we passed through the small town, I noticed people milling about
attending their business. Although the main street was short, it seemed to
thrive with a particular hustle and bustle. I glanced around curiously. It seemed no
one had lived there for centuries. I had heard of old west ghost towns in the
furthest places of America. I never expected to encounter one in Romania.
"Hello?" I tentatively questioned. I took a step and
halted. Then, I hobbled toward the general mercantile. Pushing the door open, I
stepped inside. The door creaked shut behind me and banged loudly, causing me
to jump in my skin. Bare shelves greeted me. The rotted countertop sagged. My nose recoiled
at the musty odor. Covering my nostrils with my cupped hand, I returned to the
sidewalk. The nearby public house cast the same appearance as the mercantile.
Perplexed, I continued to investigate the village. "Hello,"
I called repeatedly. I did not expect a response. However, I continued to call. "Hello,"
a voice echoed back to me. I stood still
and waited for the voice to repeat itself. Silence. Time advanced.
Twilight settled upon the village, and I remained alone. Intermittently, I shouted
'Hello.' Disenchanted, I moved toward the pub. Earlier, I had noticed a
room-for-let sign in the window. I entered and
climbed to the upper floor. Pushing open a decomposing oak door, I halted,
startled. The image of a disheveled figure greeted me. Hastily, I stepped back,
and a bureau corner poked me in the spine. I advanced on the specter again and
faced my own image in a shattered cheval glass. Spinning on my heels, I
clattered down the swaying staircase and into the street. "Hello,"
I desperately hollered into the advancing twilight. "Hello,"
a distinct voice repeated my greeting. Breathlessly,
I waited on the deserted roadway. The voice sounded oddly familiar, yet I could
not recall it. When no one appeared, my shoulders sank. I turned and plodded
toward the public house. "Wait!" I stopped and
peered into the twilight. A shadow formed in the dusk and rushed toward me. I
stepped toward it eagerly, then hesitated. Perhaps the Baron had discovered my
whereabouts and intended to trap me. I did not wish to encounter my nemesis.
Poised for a flight, I hesitated. "Norah!"
the unknown figure breathed my name. Then, Prentiss Wills stepped out of the
gloaming. I collapsed into his arms. My eyelids
fluttered open, and I peered into the face of my father's curate. Prentiss
Wills leaned forward. Carefully, he placed a damp cloth across my forehead. I
sank back onto a pillow and closed my eyes. "You
fainted," he whispered soothingly. "We're in the pub. I carried you upstairs
and put you to bed. Whatever has happened to you? Where's Bella?" "In the
well," I muttered unconsciously. "The bell in the well in the
dell." "Fanciful,"
Prentiss mused beneath his breath. He leaned back in a crooked chair and
studied me curiously. "It's not
fancy, Prentiss," I remarked hotly. I sat up abruptly and swept away the
moist cloth. "They're vampires! They sucked away all Mama's blood and
dumped her in the well." I sank back
against the pillow and sobbed. The curate ogled me, his jaw-dropping open in
disbelief. "I can
show you if you do not believe me," I exclaimed wearily. "I can show
you what von Helfin did to my Mama after he finished with her. She's in the
bottom of a deep well far in that forbidden forest." I jerked my thumb in
the general direction. Deliberately,
I told my story from the time of our arrival until my flight from the castle.
Prentiss listened solemnly. The following
morning, we trekked into the woods. My index finger shook as I pointed
fearfully to the well in the dell. Cautiously, my companion approached the
crumbling shaft and peered inside intermittently. Falling to his knees,
Prentiss Wills folded his hands together beneath his chin. His lips formed a
prayer for the dead. Ashen-faced, he stood and strolled to me. "Vampires,"
he exclaimed in a daze. "Extraordinary." We returned to
the village and sat in a pub lounge booth. Prentiss located an old-fashioned
brandy bottle. He sniffed it and declared it fit to drink. Pouring the
libations into two goblets, he sipped and encouraged me to do the same. It
burned my throat at first but calmed me instantly. "We
cannot remain here," the curate declared, leaning toward me. "The
Baron might return at any moment. If he catches us, we haven't much of a
chance." I heartedly
agreed. "Another
village lies on the other side of the valley," Prentiss stated, clasping
my hands in his smooth palms. "It's quite a long walk, but, if you think
you can make it, we can start without delay. I left the train there. We can
return to Bucharest quickly." "I can
make it if I have the proper shoes," I replied, indicating my bare feet. My companion
located a pair of sturdy boots in one of the dilapidated upstairs bedrooms.
Although out of style by several hundred years, they fit reasonably well, and I
could walk in them comfortably. We left
immediately and, skirting the dell, tramped through the forest again. Night
fell before we reached our destination, and we went directly to the train
station. By morning, we arrived in Bucharest and ensconced ourselves in a
moderate hotel. "I will
return to von Helfin every few days," Prentiss explained over a
continental breakfast. We sat on a
cozy balcony overlooking a lush garden. I breathed in the clean air and broke a
large hunk from a freshly baked baguette. Spreading strawberry jam lavishly, I
crammed it into my mouth and sighed deeply. Nothing had ever tasted more
delicious. "As soon
as the Baron returns, I plan to destroy him," my companion continued,
drawing my attention from my breakfast. "How do
you plan to do that?" I asked, addressing another hunk of bread. "Garlic
will ward them off, and a wooden stake through the heart will defeat a vampire,"
the curate decided. Absently, he fingered the silver cross dangling from his
neck. "The cross will ward them off also. And holy water." Methodically,
day by day, we formed our plan and awaited Baron von Helfin's return. The weeks
began to pass, and I grew mentally and physically stronger. I accompanied
Prentiss around Bucharest, and we gathered together our vampire-defeating
weapons. "When you
return to von Helfin castle, I intend to accompany you," I announced
during luncheon at a sidewalk café. My
announcement startled the curate. Straightening his spine, he ogled me coldly
and then relaxed. "You will
do no such thing," Prentiss declared vehemently. "I forbid it." "You
forbid it," I shouted, drawing the attention of nearby diners. I lowered
my voice and continued, "How dare you." "A
vampire lair is no place for you, Norah," the curate responded, fervently
shaking his head. "I will
remind you, Prentiss Wills," I remarked, glaring at him through narrowed
eyes, "I resided in the vampire's lair these many months." "Nevertheless,"
my companion coolly began. "Nevertheless,"
I exclaimed loudly, "they killed my Mama." Heads swiveled
in our direction again. I stared at the onlookers ominously until they turned
away. Then, I refocused on Prentiss. "I have
the right to destroy them," I hissed, lowering my voice and leaning
forward. Prentiss bowed
his head in meek acceptance. XXIX The days of
waiting slid into months. Beginning to despair, I voiced my concerns out loud. "Suppose
they never return?" I questioned. "What then?" "You said
they left previously and returned," Prentiss Wills grimly assured me.
"Surely, they must come back soon." I sighed and
cast my eyes toward the gothic castle upon its precipice. Abandoning our cozy
rooms in Bucharest, Prentiss and I returned to the von Helfin village. The
upstairs rooms in the public house provided shelter but little comfort.
Nevertheless, we stationed ourselves close at hand, anticipating the Baron's
return. Shivering, I
wrapped my shawl around my shoulders tightly. Despite the summer daytime
temperatures, the night air remained cold and damp. Prentiss declared midnight
the best time to espy von Helfin's return. "You'll
catch your death if you continue in this cold," Prentiss remarked one
early dawn. Our vigil ended for the night; we returned to the village to sleep.
"Return to Bucharest. I can handle the situation here."
"No," I countered stubbornly. "I intend to finish what we
started. Von Helfin killed my Mama." "Suit
yourself," the curate reluctantly agreed. "Nevertheless, I would feel
better without your presence." Prentiss
halted at my bedroom door with his hand on the knob. Although I dodged around
him, he moved to block my path. He never tried to comfort me or embrace me.
When I invited him inside my private sanctuary, he adamantly refused. His
following statement took me entirely by surprise. "Will you
marry me?" the curate abruptly asked. "Once we return to England,
that is." I gaped at my
companion in utter disbelief. He certainly chose the most inappropriate moment
to spring his proposal.
"Prentiss!" I declared indignantly. Stretching around him, I
swung open my door. I entered quickly and slammed it behind me. I stood
against the oaken door and steadied my breathing. In the past, Papa and Mama
encouraged a possible marriage between the curate and me. I accepted their
decision willingly. However, time and experience made me unsure. My thoughts
flew to Ranulf. I freely admitted my love for the Baron's ward. Prentiss Wills
seemed dull in comparison. A long time
passed before I finally slept. Tossing and turning, I considered Prentiss. He
traveled a long way to find me. He willingly offered his assistance to destroy
my vampire nemesis. In England, our betrothal seemed a foregone conclusion. My
wandering mind continued to dwell on several muddled points. The arrival of
total darkness brought a tapping on my door. I rose silently and dressed.
Prentiss waited in the pub beneath. When I joined him, we hurried into the
forest. We sat against
a large oak in the forbidding forest. High up on its ridge, Castle von Helfin
loomed above us. Tension grew thickly around us. I attempted to speak about the
proposal several times but stopped myself. I sighed loudly, not knowing where
to begin. Occasionally,
Prentiss crawled closer for a better vantage point. When he returned, we sat
quietly and gazed at the yellow full moon. My companion handed me a loaf of
bread and a pint of milk. The village beyond the forest kept us supplied with
nourishment. Thanking him graciously, I nibbled on his offering. "I
apologize," Prentiss finally remarked, breaking my repast. "I spoke
inappropriately." "It's all
right," I answered noncommittally. "I…I cannot answer you now. I will
think about it…carefully." Silence fell
between us. My companion edged closer to my side, and we continued our meal.
Suddenly, Prentiss leaped to his feet and pointed. I stood beside him and
peered into the darkness. Five stealthy figures appeared and entered through
the courtyard gate. In my enthusiasm, I flung my arms around the curate's neck. "Are you
sure it's them?" Prentiss asked, swiftly stepping out of my embrace. "Who
else?" I snapped harshly. The curate
surveyed me coolly, taken aback by the severity of my voice. "I'm
sorry, Prentiss," I muttered, casting my eyes downward. "I didn't
mean to snap at you. It's the excitement, the tension." "Not to
worry, my dear," the curate responded, brushing aside my apology. "We
must return to our quarters quickly. We attack at dawn." Dawn"the
triumphant word reverberated in my mind. While the vampires slept in their
coffins, we planned to creep upon them stealthily. We returned to the village
and stuffed our pockets with garlic cloves hurriedly. Prentiss hung a large
silver cross around my neck and donned one also. In the forest bracken, the
curate uncovered the five wooden stakes he had buried earlier. Silently, we
entered the sinister castle. Clinging close to each other, we crept across the
decaying entrance hall. Despite our clandestine progress, our shoes beat a loud
staccato across the flagstones. I cringed at the sound. Would our clatter reach
the Baron in his deadly sleep? At the cellar
door, I grasped Prentiss's arm and halted him. He turned to me, his dismay
etched across his lean face. "I warned
you, Norah," he admonished severely. "You should have stayed in the
village. You cannot back out now." "It's not
that, Prentiss," I rebuked sharply. "The dogs…" "What
dogs?" He stared at me wide-eyed. "The
Baron's hellish hounds," I cried, becoming distraught. "I forgot!
Diabolus, Dybbuk, Moloch, Incubus, and Belial." I counted the names off on
the fingers of my right hand. Prentiss
blanched, his skin growing whiter with each name. Minutes ticked
past. The curate continued the hesitated at the cellar door. Then, placing his
hand in his coat pocket, he drew out a silver revolver. I gasped audibly. "I'll
handle them," Prentiss stated firmly. "I loaded it with silver
bullets, just in case." "In case
of what?" I asked, startled. Tentatively, I shrunk back against the wall.
"Werewolves."
"Werewolves!" I exclaimed, my eyes wide with fright. The
wolf's nightly ululations sprung into my mind. I never thought of the
shapeshifting beasts existing in the von Helfin surroundings. "Anything
is possible," Prentiss responded, cautioning me to hold my tongue. The curate
stretched out his hand and opened the cellar door. I followed him down the damp
stairway, wondering about my prim companion. He suddenly knew a lot about
subjects he disdained.
"Foolhardy nonsense," Prentiss Wills often exclaimed when Papa
and I discussed the occult. If he could not see things with his own eyes, he
did not believe. As we descended into the dank underground chamber, I began to
brooch the issue. He quickly hushed me. The massive
iron gate loomed out of the misty corridor. A loud gasp escaped my lips when
Prentiss touched it, and it swung open. Grabbing his arm, I stopped him.
"Trap?" I mouthed. Anxiously
glancing into the impenetrable darkness, I expected the Baron to appear and
attack us with his children's aid. Prentiss pulled me against the wall, holding
me around the waist. Time passed slowly. Nothing happened. Finally, we ventured
forth again. At the end of
the corridor, the vast cavern spread before us. The five coffins remained in
their places, exactly as I remembered them. Falling to his knees before the
first one, Prentiss pried the lid open. It fell onto its side with an echoing
crash. I cringed, ready to flee. The curate
drew out a stake and, stretching upward, raised it above the sleeping Baron's
heart. Time stood still. My nemesis continued his slumbers"his sanguine lips
standing out against his ghostly skin. The muscles in Prentiss's arms stood out
as he gathered his strength. When he plunged, I reached out my hand and stopped
him. "He's mine," I stated
unemotionally. "He killed my mother. I want my revenge. I'll take him
and…" I studied the
caskets intently. Then, rising, I moved on to the last one in the line.
Kneeling, I removed the lid and stared into Ranulf's beloved face. My tears
choked me as I gazed upon him. Nevertheless, I strengthened my resolve and
determination. "This
one." I pointed disdainfully toward my lover. "The children are
yours." Despite my
hatred of the von Helfin clan, I could not harm Luiza. I viewed her as my
friend, a companion in a hellish nightmare. Although we had to destroy them, I
would rather Prentiss did the deed. Swiftly, I
grasped the stake, tightening my fists around the wooden shaft. My hatred of
the Baron hardened within my heart, and I strode toward his casket. Holding my
breath, I positioned myself before him and rose to my knees. It required great
strength to drive the shaft home. I gathered my concentration and positioned
the picket above his heart. "For
Mama," I exclaimed, my voice reverberating in the hellish chamber. Tears
filled my eyes, and my voice hitched with sorrow. The Baron's
hate-filled orbs flew open when the stake entered his heart. Accusingly, he
stared at me. Then, threateningly, he began to rise. Von Helfin's hands
grappled for my throat and brushed my skin. I plunged the stake deeper into his
body, and his arms slackened. A gurgling noise escaped his red lips, and then
he fell silent. Deep in the
cavern, a dog growled. It rumbled, multiplied, and grew louder. I stood and
grappled for Prentiss's arm. Together, we drew back against the wall. Abruptly,
five bullmastiffs burst upon us. They cornered us and continued to growl
menacingly. The curate stepped forward, shoving me behind him. Raising his
revolver, he shot Moloch through the head, killing him instantly. Diabolus and
Incubus followed, each receiving a similar death shot. Leaping suddenly, Dybbuk
sunk his teeth into Prentiss's arm. Yelping in pain, the curate encircled the
dog's neck with his strong palms, driving him backward. Another fatal shot
echoed through the cellar chamber. Belial turned tail and fled with Prentiss
hot on his trail. I waited
anxiously; my back pressed against the wall. At any moment, I expected the
final bullmastiff's return. Finally, I heard another shot and a loud whimper.
Prentiss emerged from the mist, and, running to him, I flung my arms around his
neck. He encircled my waist and pulled me close. I relaxed against him. For the
first time, the prim curate embraced and kissed me. "Norah,
look!" Prentiss exclaimed, releasing me. Together, we
approached the coffins. The Baron's transparent form shimmered weakly. Beneath
him, I could see the red velvet lining. The children appeared in the same
condition. Prentiss stood above them, overalled by the sight. Vlad vanished
completely, but Luiza hovered between the Earth and the afterworld. Fading in
and out, Vanda opened her eyes wide and she, finally, disappeared.
"Ranulf!" I exclaimed, moving toward the far coffin hastily. I
breathed a sigh of relief when I found him intact. Hypnotized by
Luiza's transparent form, Prentiss did not notice my movements. I threw him a
furtive glance, then fell to my knees beside my lover's coffin. His soft black
hair fell over his high forehead. Tenderly, I brushed it aside. Looking toward
the curate again, I saw him bend over Luiza's flickering body. I did not wish him
to observe my actions. I leaned forward and gently laid a kiss on Ranulf's
lips. "Oh,
Ranulf, I do love you," I whispered, barely audibly. "With all my
heart and soul, I do love you." Prentiss
glanced in my direction and stepped toward me. Staring at him intently, I
lifted the stake and positioned it above Ranulf's heart. The curate turned back
to Luiza and watched her finally evaporate. I deftly positioned my weapon,
forcing it to its destination. If Prentiss looked, he would not notice that it
did not hit its mark. I could not destroy Ranulf. XXX Snapshot
memories of our return journey to England played in my jagged thoughts.
Bucharest, Budapest, Vienna, Munich, Strasbourg, Paris. I pressed my cheek
against the train carriage's window and watched the world cities pass with
little enthusiasm. Curious onlookers gawked at me. My placid skin and worn
expression created a reason for more than a passing glance. Ever diligent,
Prentiss shielded me from their penetrating stares. We left the
Orient Express in Paris, spending several nights in the city of lights. A vague
sense of excitement hovered in the back of my mind. In the distant past, the
French capital enthralled Mama and me. The gaiety we encountered on the Champs
Elysee boosted our spirits despite our tragedy. Papa lay in his grave, and we
embarked on a new adventure. Often, late at night, we lay in bed conjecturing
our arrival at von Helfin Castle. Mama delighted in the opportunistic
employment by a Baron would create. I wondered about my future away from Grey
Friars and Prentiss Wills. I returned to
reality a much different person. My horrific experiences left me emotionally
drained. Nightmares terrorized my dreamscapes, and I awoke to frightful
screaming echoing through my hotel room. Fearing I would wake the other guests,
I cowered beneath my blankets until the curate pounded on my door. "Are you
all right?" Prentiss asked, poking his head into the room. When I nodded,
he softly closed the door and returned to his bed chamber. I wished he would
come in and comfort me. Nevertheless, he refused to cross my threshold. His
staunch morals would not allow his entrance into a lady's sleeping quarters. Finally, on a
fresh spring day, we crossed the channel. I breathed deeply for the first time
in ages, taking the clear air into my starving lungs. The stalwart white cliffs
greeted us, and I became overwhelmed at my first sight of home soil.
Unexpectedly, my emotions overflowed, and I collapsed against Prentiss. Firmly,
he guided me into the nearest public house and ordered brandy. I sipped it and
relaxed enough to smile weakly. "Norah, I
want to make sure you are properly taken care of," Prentiss announced,
reaching across the table to grasp my hands. "You are very ill and require
a long rest." I sat back
against the booth bench, considering his words. My hazy mind could not grapple
with their significance. I continued to feel ill and uneasy in my mind. Slowly
nodding, I left my well-being in the curate's capable hands. "I will
take you to Heavenly Rest," he decided confidently. "It's a sanctuary
on the coast in Devon, near Torquay. You will receive nursing care and soak in
the sea air. It will do you the world of good." "I want
to go home, Prentiss," I whispered, my lips barely forming the words.
"Please take me home--to Gray Friars." "I will,
but not yet." Tenderly, he stroked my cheek and then cupped my chin.
"I want you to become well again. I cannot marry you until you are strong
enough." My mind reeled
as I contemplated the man who rescued me. Naturally, the curate expected to
marry me. Mama and Papa both planned our nuptials. I should agree, yet
something pulled against my heart. Ranulf remained front and center in my mind. However, I willingly
put myself in Prentiss Wills's capable hands. He escorted me by train to
Torquay and assisted in my admittance to Heavenly Rest. Peacefully, I began my
convalescence. Days and weeks passed, then the months started to slide away.
Suddenly, I realized the year had slipped past. I mourned Mama and Papa in my
heart, but as my strength returned, I moved away from the horrors I experienced
at von Helfin castle. On my release
day from Heavenly Rest, I sat on the lawn facing Tor Bay. The calm blue water
looked like a sheet of glass. I breathed deeply, soaking in the slight breeze.
It rippled my hair, and I absently brushed the stray strands away as I gazed
across the serene view. "Your
surprise me," Prentiss stated, appearing beside me. "You're no longer
a girl; you're a woman. I…" He sighed gratifyingly and took my arm.
Together, we strolled along the bay front. "I have
enjoyed the rest, Prentiss," I stated, pressing my body against his side.
"I feel renewed. I've moved away from von Helfin, and now, I can move
forward with my life." "I'm
delighted, Norah," my companion remarked, leading me to a bench. Prentiss
bent to one knee and held my hand tenderly. "Will you marry me?" I looked down
upon him anxiously. I had not expected the sudden proposal. Rising, I walked
several steps past him and stopped. Prentiss followed me and gently placed his
hand on my shoulder.
"Norah?" he asked. His whisper softly caressed my bent neck. "I'm
sorry, Prentiss," I whispered, barely audibly. "It's… It's too
soon." Lifting my long pleated skirt above my ankles, I hurried across the
dewed grass. Following
luncheon, we boarded the train for Gray Friars. My traveling companion remained
pensive but did not readdress his proposal. He remained courteous and
solicitous about my health. The Right
Reverend Martin Halifax greeted us at the old vicarage door. Taking my hands,
he kissed me on both cheeks and invited me inside. My home looked much the same
as the day Mama and I left. "Welcome
home, my dear," the vicar's wife greeted, hustling into the hallway from
the kitchen. "I'm Amelia Rose. Martin and I wish to make you welcome here.
You can consider this your home for as long as you wish." "I…thank
you," I muttered, glancing around the familiarly comfortable rooms.
"I don't wish to inconvenience you." "You
won't trouble us in the least," my hostess pledged, patting my hand. Despite my
longing for Papa and Mama, I immediately warmed up to Martin and Amelia Rose
Halifax. They made me feel completely at home. I gathered
hedge roses each morning and placed them lovingly on Papa's grave. I prayed for
his soul and for Mama. They should repose together in their death slumber, I
thought wistfully. In the dead of night, I had terrifying visions of Mama
floating in that awful well. Her sorrow-filled eyes reproached me, accusing me
of not saving her from her folly.
"Mama!" I screamed, bolting up in bed. "Mama!"
"Norah," Prentiss soothed, immediately entering my bedroom.
Overwhelmed by his desire to protect me, his inhibitions disappeared.
"Shh. Shh. You're okay. Everything is okay now." "NO!
NO!" I sobbed into his red-striped nightshirt. "We
cannot remain here," the curate moaned, drawing me against his chest
tightly. "Listen, I've applied for a living in Cornwall. It's miles away,
and we can start anew. I want you to get right away…away from all your haunting
memories. We can…" "Oh, Yes,
Prentiss, yes," I answered, desperately clinging to him. Suddenly, I
wanted to get away, far away. "Please take me away from here." "You'll
marry me as soon as the living comes through?" my lover asked, anxious for
my assurance. "Yes,
yes." I nodded my head against his thin chest vigorously. Deliriously, I
sank against the pillows, exhausted from the exertion. Amelia Rose
eagerly offered her assistance when we announced our wedding plans. Together we
traveled to London. I selected yards of white organdy for my gown. Day after
day, we stitched the lovely fabric in the vicarage parlor. Finally, the dress
hung in my wardrobe, waiting for my nuptials. I resigned
myself to matrimony. Far from a romantic attachment, I considered it a marriage
of convenience. Prentiss rarely uttered words of love and showed me scant
affection. My young girl fantasies of romance and adventure dissipated. I
desired amorous attention and a passionate embrace. I never dreamed about Prentiss Wills.
Instead, Ranulf frequently appeared in my nightscapes. When I closed my eyes, I
saw him at the altar instead of the curate. I realized my commitments forced me
to put the Baron's ward out of my mind. I could not allow the Romania interlude
to shadow my new life. I turned eighteen that summer and had to put my
childhood behind me. Prentiss
received his promotion and accepted the living in Cornwall finally. With the
holidays fast approaching, he insisted upon a Christmas day wedding.
Reluctantly, I agreed. "I've
taken the liberty of booking rooms in Bath," my fiancé announced as we
finalized our plans. "It's quite convenient for our journey to Cornwall. I
believe we should stay for two nights before continuing to St. Winwalloe. You
do agree, my little love?" I threw a
hostile glare at Prentiss. His peevish voice suddenly irritated me. Slowly, I
realized he intended to organize our lives without my input. The idea annoyed
me. "I have
always dreamed of a honeymoon in Florence and Venice," I remarked through
gritted teeth. "A romantic tour of Italy would suit me quite well." "Why not
combine business with pleasure, my dear?" the new vicar asked, bending to
kiss my cheek lightly. I turned away swiftly. "Two days in Bath suits our
needs." "Two
days," I gasped, appalled, "will certainly not suit my needs." I
clenched my fists tightly by my sides "I intend
to give the New Year's sermon," Prentiss firmly stated. "Both feet
forward, I always say." I opened my
mouth to protest, but my head instantly throbbed. I sank onto the settee, the
room swaying around me. Although I felt physically strong, my emotions
continued to grapple for stability. "Yes,
Prentiss," I answered meekly. Nevertheless,
my mind reeled against his plans. I began to doubt my decision to marry
Prentiss Wills. Falling into a deep depression, I locked myself in my room. My
troubled mind would not rest. I tossed and turned beneath my blankets until I
finally couldn't bear it any further. Wrapping a
warm dressing gown around my shoulders, I crept from the still vicarage into
the graveyard. Kneeling upon Papa's grave, I sobbed.
"Norah." I looked up at
the sound of the familiar voice. The cemetery remained silent beneath the full
moon. An owl hooted, then flew away. I continued to kneel, silently praying for
a solution to my dilemma.
"Norah." Again the familiar, heavily accented voice. I glanced up
again, hopefully. No one appeared. Pushing aside my imagination, I rose to
shaky feet. Slowly, I made my way back to the vicarage.
"Norah," the voice whispered. "Please, Norah, don't
go." A dark figure
appeared behind a mausoleum. I stared at it, trying to make it real. Then, the
Baron's nephew rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me.
"Ranulf!" I exclaimed, falling into his embrace. "How?
How did you get here?" "I cannot
exist without you, Norah," my Romanian lover moaned. "Save me,
Norah." "How,
Ranulf, tell me how?" In the shadow
of Papa's tombstone, we renewed our acquaintance. Ranulf recounted his
loneliness following my departure. He slept until the following night, waking
to find his uncle dead, and the children vanished. "I
realized you staked Uncle and fled," the Baron's ward grimly declared.
"You couldn't harm me, could you?" "No, I
could never harm you," I concurred, caressing his cheek softly. I narrated
my flight from the castle quickly and my meeting with Prentiss, our plans, the
Baron's demise, and our return to England. Ranulf listened gravely. "I…I
agreed to marry Prentiss." "I
see," my lover stated, his face deathly blank. "I'm
sorry, Ranulf," I gulped. "I never expected to see you again." Together, we
clasped hands and leaned shoulder to shoulder against Papa's grave marker.
Prentiss discovered me alone in the morning, curled up in Patience Mowbray's
final resting place. Tenderly, he carried me into the vicarage and placed me on
my bed.
"Ranulf," I murmured mournfully. "Ranulf." My fiancé hovered
over me uncertainly. Then, he placed a cooling cloth on my forehead. He sat at
my bedside for a long time while I continued to mutter my lover's name. I could
not recall whether I actually saw Ranulf or if he appeared in my fragmented
dreams. XXXI ‘Dear Prentiss, I realized this
will come as a great shock to you, and I pray you will forgive me in time. The
truth is, I cannot marry you. My heart will not allow it. Truthfully, if I
carried through with our plans, my life would become misery. I am sorry,
Prentiss. I cannot go through with it.’ I gazed through
the open window onto the churchyard below. A shadow figure appeared beside
Papa’s grave. Night after night, I crept outside to meet Ranulf. We sat beside
my beloved father’s last resting place, making our plans. In the back of my
mind, I felt I betrayed Prentiss. He rescued me from von Helfin castle and had
every right to expect I would marry him. When Ranulf reappeared, I knew I could
not follow through with the wedding. And so, on this
last night in my old home, I sat at my desk in the opened window. The letter
spread before me, I gazed down upon my anxious lover. For a moment, I pressed
the pen against my lips and considered my next words. ‘On the day you
arrived at the vicarage, Mama and Papa began planning our lives together. They
both liked and trusted you, Prentiss, as I did. Circumstances drew us apart
along with distance. I am forever grateful for your appearance in Romania and
for rescuing me. I will never forget all you did. ‘I am a different
person now than I was when we first met. Papa brought me up in the church, and
I believe in his teachings with all my heart. Papa was a good man; he devoted
his life to his profession. However, he was also kind, loving and forgiving.
Life is give and take, Prentiss. I appreciate your concern and your care for
me. Nevertheless, I feel stifled by your plans; you plan but do not include my
opinions. ‘I have met
someone else who shares my viewpoints and who longs to make me the center of my
life. I find we have a lot in common and, oh, I do love him ever so much. As
much as I hate to break this to you on this night"our wedding eve"I feel I
must. By the time you find this, we will have disappeared. ‘All my best to
you, Prentiss. ‘Norah.’ Sealing the
letter in an envelope, I propped it against the lamp and prepared to depart.
Ranulf awaited me, and we had much to do before we left. Hastening downstairs, I left my childhood
home forever. Beneath my arm, I carried the book that would set my lover free. “I thought you
would never arrived,” Ranulf stated grasping my hands. He smiled, the tips of
his canines appearing at his lower lip. “I had a last
minute task to complete,” I responded, dragging him toward the church. Ranulf hesitated
at the church door. I tugged on his hand, urging him inside. Still, he
faltered, not wanting to step over the holy threshold. I felt his resistance
and turned to him. “It’s the only
way,” I implored, yanking on his arm. “You said you wanted your freedom. We
have to go inside.” For weeks, I had
perused Papa’s extensive library. Finally, I discovered what I sought. Hidden
behind a stack of Bibles, I found a slim volume concerning the occult. The
information I required appeared under the heading ‘Vampires.’ “Perhaps this is
not such a good idea,” my companion stated, his feet rooted to the ground.
“What if it doesn’t work? What if you can’t bring me back?” “We have to try,”
I stubbornly responded. “Ranulf!” I fiercely tugged on his arm again. “If it doesn’t,
are you going to marry him?” He roughly jerked his thumb toward the vicarage. “I’d rather die,”
I hissed in return. “Just like
Juliet,” Ranulf remarked, his red eyes glowing serenely. “Yes, like Juliet
who couldn’t live without her Romeo.” Could I really do
it? I wondered. Could I take my own life if I could not save my one true love?
Or would I falter at the altar of love? I had not considered the thought until
that moment at the church door. I pictured myself
returning to my bedchamber and tearing up the goodbye letter to Prentiss. If
Ranulf did not recover from the ceremony described in the occult book, I
shuddered to think of life without him. Sadness over took me. Holding back my
tears, I pushed open the door and stepped into the church. I willed Ranulf to
follow me. Alone, I
approached the altar. The scent of lilies filled the air. All about the church,
they stood in vases awaiting the following day. The soft full moon shone
through the stained glass windows creating a path upon the ancient aisle. I
knelt in the chancel and prayed. Ranulf knelt beside me, his head bowed. He lay on the
floor; his head at the altar, his feet facing the door. I knelt beside him and
said one last prayer. Caressing his open chest with my palm, I willed it to
become warm. Nevertheless, it remained stone cold. Ranulf closed his eyes. A
serene expression crossing his ashen face. Time stood still.
I garnered my strength, then plunged the wooden stake into my beloved’s heart.
For a moment, I faltered before driving it home with a mallet. Ranulf made an
‘oof’ sound, his lips parting slightly. Then, he lay unmoving before me. Rising to my
knees, I muttered another pray asking God to spare his cherished life. Swiftly,
I gathered holy water from the baptismal font. Falling to my knees, I used it
to recreate the ancient, Catholic sign of the cross. “In the Nomine
Patris.” Tenderly, I touched his forehead. “In the Name of the Father.” My hand shook as
it moved downward toward his chest. “et Filli"and of
the Son.” During the past
few days, I memorized the unfamiliar Catholic ritual. Although it was against
my Father’s teachings and my belief, I wished to perform the ascribed ceremony
as authentically as possible. Gaining
confidence, I lightly drew my finger across Ranulf’s shoulders. “et Spiritus
Sancti"and of the Holy Ghost.” My vampire lover
remained in his prone position. He did not stir or flinch. Hour after hour, I
remained at my vigil. Tears welled in my eyes, and I sobbed. Sorrow overwhelmed
me. The ritual failed, and I destroyed the only man I could ever love. I had to leave
the church. I visualized myself returning to the vicarage and tearing up the
letter I wrote to Prentiss. My marriage to him would take place as scheduled
the following morning. I could not face it. “Oh my Romeo,” I
muttered, mournfully. Gently, I brushed Ranulf’s straggly hair from his
forehead. Then, I bent and, for the first time, brought my lips to his sanguine
ones. In fairy tales, a
kiss awoke the Sleeping Beauty. Perhaps, just perhaps, it could awaken a dead
vampire too. I knelt and prayed again"still nothing happened. The sun began to
peek over the horizon, lighting the nave. Slowly, it crept toward the chancel.
Soon, the day would begin. Prentiss always came into the church during the
early morning to pray. He would find us still there unless something happened
soon. “Ranulf!” I
screamed, desperately shaking his shoulders. “Oh please wake up. Please,
Ranulf.” On my hands and
knees, I crawled to the altar and lay prostrate before it, sobbing. My heart breaking,
I sought a way to end my misery. Life could not continue for me without Ranulf.
As though in a dream I rose, entered my father’s office and returned with the
only sharp instrument I could find. I held the paper
knife against my throbbing heart. Willing the strength to plunge it into my breast,
I plighted my troth to Ranulf. If we could not live together in life, we would
die together. My lips muttered a silent prayer, and I pushed the letter opener
into my naked chest. “Norah.” At the sound of
my name, I dropped the letter opener. It clattered noisily upon the flagstone
floor and echoed against the stained glass windows. “Don’t do it,
Norah,” Ranulf gasped, his lank form rising from the floor. Awkwardly, he stood
to shaking feet. I spun and rushed
into his arms. Joyously, I gazed into his restored face. A slight peach color
tinted his pale complexion. The blood drained from his sanguine lips, leaving
them a soft pink. His red, bloodshot eyes morphed into a golden hawk-eye. He
bent his head toward mine and kissed me. My arms flew around his neck, and I
pulled him closer, deepening our love’s first embrace. XXXII The crunch of
footsteps approaching the church alerted us. The oaken door cracked open, and
we stared at the shadow figure framed in the aperture. In our first thrills of
love, we had waited too long. Prentiss would discover Ranulf and me wrapped in
our tender embrace in moments. Frantically, I grabbed my companion's icy hand
and rushed toward the side door. Our footfalls echoed loudly against the
flagstone floor.
"Hello?" my fiancé called, his voice raised in question. The door
slammed behind us, and we stood at the graveyard's edge. Deftly, I wove around
the tombstones I had known all my life. I halted behind the one belonging to
Patience Mowbray and her stillborn baby boy. Ranulf squatted beside me, panting
for breath. "The
sunlight…" my lover gasped, shielding his eyes quickly. The morning
sun hung low on the horizon, casting a bright welcome to the day. All my life,
I delighted in the dawn, often waking early to watch it make its first
appearance. I longed to share the moment with my lover. However, I realized he
had not encountered daylight in many years. "Oh, Ranulf,"
I mourned, tears welling against my eyelids.
"Blind," he muttered, tightly holding his palms against his
eyes. "I'm blind." Bewildered, I
sunk into the ground behind the gravestone. We had to leave instantly. At any
second, Prentiss could appear. He may have devoted himself to his prayers or
followed us into the cemetery. Anxiously, I glanced toward the church, willing
him to stay inside. Our escape depended upon it. "Give me
a few moments, Norah," Ranulf whispered reassuringly. His slim fingers
parted slightly, allowing a little sunlight to penetrate. "I must adjust
to the light." I gnawed on my
bottom lip apprehensively. Time stood still. My companion removed his hands
from his face and squinted uncomfortably. Tears streamed from his irritated,
bloodshot eyes. I caressed his arm in an attempt to reassure him. Finally, he
blinked and smiled at me affectionately. "The
first train to London leaves at twenty past six," I announced impatiently.
"We must make that train, Ranulf. We must hurry." I threw a hasty
look over my shoulder, expecting Prentiss's appearance. Squatting, we
dodged behind the tombstones until we reached a copse of trees behind the
churchyard. Grabbing hands, we rushed into the small forest. Ranulf swatted at
low overhanging branches, clearing a path for me to follow. Breaking free, we
sprinted onto the main road. The George Inn stood at the crossroads, the last
building before the station. I glanced furtively over my shoulder and pulled my
companion toward our destination. The London
train chugged, and steam billowed from its stack. We barely had time to
purchase tickets before it departed. Hurrying toward the purchase window, I
fumbled in my purse for the fare. Slamming the coins on the counter, I demanded
the tickets. "You're
cutting it a bit short, Miss Norah," Sam Wheaton, the station master,
quipped. He lackadaisically counted out the farthings and shillings I pushed
toward him. "Please,
Sam, can't you count a bit quicker," I insisted impatiently.
"Well…" The elderly attendant began, ogling me over his half
glasses. "Say, aren't you marrying the curate today, Miss Norah?" Aghast, I
stared at Sam Wheaton. Outside, the train chuffed again, and the pistons began
to turn. Tears of fury sprang to my eyes. "Surely
you can see the lady is in a hurry," Ranulf cut in, inserting himself
between me and the ticket master. "We cannot miss this train." The sudden
authority in my companion's voice startled Sam Wheaton. He cupped my coins in
his shaky palm and dispatched the tickets quickly. The Baron's ward took my
arm, and we scurried toward the departing train. It began to move as we rushed
along the aisle, searching for an empty compartment. Finally, Ranulf swung open
a door, and with a sudden lurch, we tumbled in.
"Phew," I finally exhaled and leaned against my companion. The long London-bound express pulled out of
Burnley-upon-Tyne. I peered out the open window and watched the George Inn
slide out of view. Sadness overwhelmed me as I said goodbye to my hometown for
the last time. We had not discussed our final destination. Once we reached the
capital, we would make that decision. Ranulf grasped
my hand, and I snuggled into his shoulder. We had the compartment to ourselves.
However, an older woman approached our carriage when we stopped at the next
station. She glared at us suspiciously and hesitated in the doorway. I willed
her to go away, but she finally entered reluctantly. Perching on the opposite
red velvet bench, she continued to ogle us. "Good
morning, Madame," my lover greeted. The aged woman
raised her eyebrows. His thick Romanian accent set her on edge. She clasped her
worn carpetbag securely on her lap. Surreptitiously, she eyed the coach door
seeking a means of escape. However, the engine released steam, and the train
chugged out of the station, trapping her. I sat up
quickly and put a space between Ranulf and me. Still, the older woman continued
to scrutinize us. The stiff white lace at her throat seemed to choke her. She
hooked her arthritic fingers into it and yanked it from beneath her chin. Her
black worsted skirt lay smoothly across her ankles, a small round hat perched
on her gray hair. The artificial daisy standing up from the crown looked
wilted. "Good
morning," I cheerily echoed Ranulf's greeting. "Are you traveling
through to London?" I hoped to break the ice. "Eloping,
I expect," the woman growled with Victorian sternness. "Your father
will be after you, young miss," she warned. "My
father is dead, Madame," I snapped tersely. "My mother too."
"Humpff," our elderly companion snorted. She lapsed into
silence and stared out the window. At the next
stop, she hastily rushed from the compartment. Ranulf and I exchanged furtive
looks, then burst into raucous laughter. "Eloping,
I expect," I mimicked, giggling. My lover pulled me close and kissed me
deeply. We remained in our embrace until the train chugged to attention. No one
joined us, and we continued alone in the carriage. "We will
check into the hotel as Baron and Baroness von Helfin," Ranulf announced
as we drew closer to our destination.
"Bah…Bah…Baron von Helfin?" I exclaimed, the name suddenly
horrifying me. "Wha…Why?" "My
darling, following the decease of my dear uncle," my companion remarked,
"I am the Baron von Helfin. Vlad is dead, also. He has left no other
heir." "But I
thought your name was Zamphir," I muttered in confusion. "And so
it is," Ranulf explained. "The von Helfin title is inherited. We
passed it down from male heir to male heir. Twice it passed through the female
line. My uncle was Nicolai Mihai Albescu"Baron von Helfin. His grandmother was
the last woman to inherit. Now it will pass through my mother"Lavinia Albescu
Zamphir. Do you understand, my love?" "I…"
I began to protest. Then, I bowed my head in acceptance. "Yes, I
understand." "When we
marry, you will become The Baroness von Helfin," my companion continued,
pulling me close. "It is an ancient title. Your son will become the next
Baron." "Does
this mean we have to return?" I stared at Ranulf wide-eyed and began to
tremble. The thought of
returning to the derelict castle atop its craggy precipice sent shivers down my
spine. Fear overtook me, and I buried my head in my lover's shoulder. Pulling
me close, he kissed the top of my head and sat silently beside me. "I must
return, my love. It is my duty," Ranulf explained following an elongated
pause. "It is up to you, Norah, to decide if you wish to accompany me. If
you decide not to, we must part in London. You can return to your home and
your…um…your Prentiss if you desire." Prentiss? Oh,
no, I could not accept Prentiss as my husband. I pictured him returning to the
vicarage and awaiting my appearance at the breakfast table. When I did not
arrive, he would ask Mrs. Halifax to check my room. The new vicar's wife would
return with the envelope addressed to the curate. I imagined his
fury when he realized I had jilted him moments from the altar. Prentiss would
search for me and attempt to bring me back for the ceremony. Clenching my
fists, I determined not to accompany him. Regardless of the circumstances, my
love for Ranulf meant more than anything else. Finally, I agreed to return with
him to Romania. "Promise
me we will do something for Mama," I stated, squeezing his arm. "I…I
want to give her a decent burial. Please, Ranulf? It would mean so much to
me." I glanced at him
wistfully, awaiting his response. I envisioned my mother floating at the bottom
of that dreadful well. Her pale dead face haunted me. I desired a decent burial
if I could not return her to Gray Friar's cemetery to repose beside Papa. "Of
course, my dearest," Ranulf responded with alacrity. "Your Mama was
my uncle's wife also"in a manner of speaking. She will lay in the castle crypt
beneath the chapel." "The
chapel?" I asked, sitting up straighter. I had not realized such a place
existed in the hellish castle. "At one
time, the von Helfin's were deeply religious," my companion responded, a
slight smile curving his reddened lips. "Uncle expected all to attend
morning and evening prayers. However, when uncle became…" he paused,
momentarily, "afflicted, they ceased." I settled
comfortably against the velvet seat, relieved Mama would receive a proper
entombment. I loved her and Papa with all my heart and wanted her to repose
comfortably. We crossed
from England to France the following day and arrived in Paris by nightfall. In
the morning, Ranulf escorted me to Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, a small church near
the Pantheon, where we pledged our lives in holy matrimony. Fearing Prentiss's
appearance, we curtailed our honeymoon and boarded the Orient Express for
Budapest. "Von
Helfin castle was quite opulent before my uncle's affliction," my new
husband explained once we settled into our compartment. "I recall many
sumptuous gatherings when I was a boy. It rapidly fell into disrepair during
the dark days. Of course, we were all afflicted. I wanted so much…" Tears welled
in Ranulf's eyes as he recalled his past life as a vampire. I understood him
completely. Inwardly, he railed against his nightmare existence. Often, in the
night, he awoke with the taste of blood in his mouth. I comforted him as best
as I could. He assured me that, in time, the situation would fade. XXXIII As we drew
closer to Romania, my tension increased. I bulked when we finally reached
Bucharest and refused to travel any further. Ranulf coaxed me to finish the
journey, but I adamantly refused. The idea of returning to von Helfin castle
frightened me. Resigned to
remain close to the Romanian capital, Ranulf escorted me to a charming country
inn on the city's outskirts. Our hosts greeted us profusely when he introduced
us as Monsieur and Madame Zamphir. They went out of their way to ensure our
privacy. "A short
repast will do us a world of good," my husband exclaimed, wrapping his
arms around my waist. "You would not have wished to forego a honeymoon on
any account, would you, my dear?" "This is
a lovely setting for a romantic holiday," I claimed, leaning my elbows on
the balcony parapet. A vast
vineyard spread before me. Dotted here and there, I noticed men and women
gathering the harvest into large woven baskets. The orange sun sank deeper
toward the horizon, sending shafts of light toward our loggia. Ranulf threw his
arms up to cover his face and howled with pain. Hurriedly, he scurried into the
bedroom, slamming the doors behind him. I rushed after
him, hastily drawing the curtains. Soaking a washcloth in the water ewer, I
dabbed his eyes soothingly. "It will
take a long time to adjust," my soulmate stated, stretching across the
bed. "I'm sure you didn't marry me to play nursemaid." "I'll
play at whatever suits you best, my love," I remarked, placing butterfly
kisses on his eyelids. Ranulf reached
for me in the darkened room and caressed my cheeks lovingly. I fell into his
embrace and shivered slightly when his cold body pressed against mine. He
recoiled, knowing his touch shocked me. Gently, I drew him closer, and my lips
found his over-moist mouth. I longed to
make love to my husband. Despite our many attempts, we failed each time. Ranulf
remained placid regardless of my passion-filled effort to arouse him. Anguish
filled his face, and he turned away from me. "It will
take time, my love," I assured him. "The trauma will pass, and you
will grow away from your past." "Will it,
Norah?" Ranulf snapped, angry and frustrated with himself. "I wish to
please you, to love you, and yet…" "I wish
to please you too." I reclined on
the bed and pulled at my negligee's silken ribbon. The flimsy garment fell away
from my exposed body. Ranulf knelt above me, his sanguine eyes traveling from
my face to my breasts. He reached out to touch them, then hastily withdrew.
"Nothing," my husband muttered, shaking his head dolefully.
Turning abruptly on his heels, he marched from the room. Hours passed.
I anxiously awaited Ranulf's return and finally fell into a fitful sleep. Dawn
awakened me, and still, he did not appear. Filled with despair, I paced the
room until the door cracked open, and my husband stepped in. "Where
were you?" I cried accusingly. "Walking
and walking and walking," my husband muttered, pacing the room.
"I…oh, I feel humiliated." He covered his face and sank onto the bed.
I perched beside him. "What has
happened?" Placing my arm across his shoulders, I pulled him to my breast. "Blood!
There was much blood!" I drew back
aghast. The word 'blood' alarmed me, frightened me.
"Blood?" I exclaimed, horrified. "What kind of blood?
Human?"
"Pigs," Ranulf muttered, lowering his eyes. "In a pigsty
several miles from here. I…I slaughtered them and drank their blood. I could
not control myself. I regarded him
solemnly. Ranulf had fallen back into his vampire desires overnight. Anxiously,
I rose and, throwing open the French windows, stepped onto the balcony. I
gripped the parapet and gazed into the distant vineyard. "We must
leave immediately," my husband stated, stepping behind me. "It is
time to return to von Helfin." Von Helfin!
The words screamed inside my head. ****** I vividly
recall my first sight of the foreboding castle. Perched high upon its cragged
mountain, it hung precariously upon the apex. Covering my face with sweaty
palms, I pressed close against Ranulf's side. My new husband squeezed my
shoulders reassuringly and kissed my forehead. Fleetingly, I wondered if I made
a mistake in returning. The high iron
gate creaked ominously when Ranulf swung it open. Returning to the trap we
hired in a nearby village, he urged the timid horses forward. As though sensing
the sinister atmosphere, the bay bulked, and his pied partner reared in fright.
I grasped the edge of the seat, expecting our conveyance to topple. Skillfully,
my husband steadied the beasts, and we entered the castle precincts. As I stepped
into the courtyard, I recollected the night Mama and I first arrived. The
one-eyed coachman dumped our baggage off his carriage and departed as though
the devil were on his heels. Left alone, we entered and faced our ominous host. Ranulf took my
arm gently and led me toward the sturdy oaken double doors. We entered the
dilapidated great hall and stared at our surroundings. Hesitantly, I gazed
around the vast chamber. At any moment, I expected the Baron to appear and bow
at the waist. "I feel
the Baron's presence strongly," I whispered, my eyes roaming the ample
space. "I expect him to step stealthily behind us at any moment." "Uncle is not here, my love," my
husband assured me. "He is gone and will not return. I am sure of
it." "Please,
Ranulf, I…I want to make sure," I stated tentatively. "The horror…
it's returning in full force. I…I shouldn't have come here. It is too much, too
soon." "Let me
prove it to you, Norah, my sweet," he remarked, strengthening his grip on
my arm. Slowly, he
drew me toward the cellar door. I bulked when he pushed it open. Nevertheless,
I accompanied him down the narrow stairwell and the mossy corridor. I glanced
into the abandoned nursery as we passed. My ears strained for the sound of
children's voices and Mama's low tone as she read a story aloud. However, the
room remained silent. I hesitated at
the iron gate when Ranulf pushed it open. I halted, ready to flee at the
slightest sound. "No one
is here, Norah," Ranulf confirmed soothingly. "The illusion
dissipated upon Uncle's demise. When you annihilated his spirit, those he
called back from the dead vanished with him." "Mrs.
Balan, Helga, and Godoired Cazacu," I muttered the servants' names. "The
one-eyed coachman, the villagers," Ranulf continued the list. "And
the gypsy caravan you visited with Helga." I shrank back
against the mildewed wall in horror. The people he listed were all too real to
me. They became an intricate part of my life while I resided in the castle. I
could not believe they were all the walking dead. Hastily, I covered my mouth
but could not suppress my screams. "Norah,
Norah!" Ranulf's anxious voice came from a far
distance. Slowly, I regained consciousness. His dearly beloved face came back
into focus after I blinked rapidly. I stammered, my words tripping on my
tongue. I could not put my thoughts into a coherent conversation. "Please,
take me away from here," I finally sputtered. "I don't want to see
anymore." "Of
course, my love." I awoke
several hours later in my old turret bedroom. Ranulf tended the blazing fire,
his back to me. Sitting up, I softly called his name. He approached and knelt
beside the large bed. Tenderly, he grasped my hands. "There is
nothing to fear, love," he briskly stated. "Uncle is gone. Everything
he left behind has turned to dust." "I am
considering the poor children," I exclaimed, considering the awful fate of
Vlad, Luiza, and Vanda. "Poor, poor children." "Indeed,"
my husband muttered dolefully. "I loved my nephew and nieces dearly. Our
tragic lives destroyed all that was good in them." "I do not
know if I will ever recover from centuries of vampirism." Ranulf
continued, grasping my hands and staring deeply into my wide blue eyes.
"Sometimes…" he hesitated momentarily and sighed. "Sometimes, I
still feel the urge… Yes, I
pondered, he still felt the urge, poor Ranulf. He had a ravenous hunger for raw
meat, and his canines still protruded from his overly moist red lips. At night,
he sat in the window gazing at the full blood moon. His body strained under the
pressure of transforming into a bat. Balling his fists, he fought against the
conversion. Little by little, he overcame those old habits, but many of them
remained with him. XXXIV On a briskly cold
October morning, Ranulf and I walked into the woods. Over his arm, my husband
carried a sturdy length of rope. Scaling down into the old well, he lashed it
firmly beneath Mama’s shoulders and, together, we heaved her to the surface. I knelt beside
her cold and bloated form, my lips muttering the Twenty-third Psalm. Tenderly,
I reached out and brushed her matted gray hair away from her swollen face. She
seemed a shadow of her old self. For a moment, I envisioned her happy and
laughing again at one of Papa’s witty remarks. I wished for those glad days of
my long ago past. A branch snapped
in the surrounding forest, alerting us to danger. Ranulf scanned the area with
his penetrating eyes. Shielding Mama’s body with my own, I cowered beside the
old well. Perhaps the Baron had returned to punish us for disturbing the dead. “Hello,” Ranulf
called, amplifying his voice. “Make your presence known, whoever you are.” Another branch
snapped and dead leaves rustled. A shadow figure appeared at the edge of the
clearing. Rising, I stared at it, aghast. For a moment, I could not believe my
eyes. I blinked to clear my vision. Nervously, I stood and pressed close
against my husband’s side. “Prentiss?” I
asked, my voice trembling. “Norah!” Rapidly, Prentiss
Wills rushed into the clearing. He stretched out his arms, willing me to run
into them. When I held back, his focus shifted to my companion. He stared at
us, incredulously. Then, he gazed upon Mama’s inert form. Kneeling, he prayed
over her body. “We plan to
entomb her properly in the castle chapel,” I stated, resting my hand on his back.
“She deserves a Christian burial.” “Yes, indeed,”
the curate agreed, solemnly. When Prentiss
finally stood, my husband placed his arm around my waist. We automatically drew
closer to each other. “Allow me to
introduce Ranulf Zamphir,” I stated, quickly. “After we fled England, we
married in Paris.” Prentiss stared
at us dolefully. A thick silence grew between us, and the air crackled with
tension. “I…I’ve come to
take you home,” Prentiss finally announced. Although he seemed uncomfortable,
he remained determined to speak his mind. “I want you…” Menacingly,
Ranulf stepped toward the curate. I tugged at his arm, holding him back. “I’ve chosen my
life, Prentiss,” I explained, briskly. Desperately, I wished to avoid a
confrontation. “I am in love with Ranulf in a way that I could never love you.
Please understand.” We stood beside
the well in an awkward half-circle. Mama’s body reposed against the crumbling
stone surround. Glancing upon her sorrowfully, my heart broke. We could not
leave her in her prone state while the situation escalated. “We must do
something for Mama,” I begged, breaking the tension. “Please, do not brawl over
her poor dead body. Ranulf? Prentiss?” Prentiss broke
his stance first. Tenderly, he re-knelt beside Mama and folded her arms across
her chest. With trembling fingers, he pushed her lids down over her staring
blue eyes. For a moment the
old rhyme I muttered beside my bed at night fluttered into my mind. I tried to
push it aside, but it insisted on falling from my lips. “Now I lay me
down to sleep I pray the Lord
my soul to keep If I should die
before I wake I pray the Lord
my soul to take.” After a moment’s hesitation, Ranulf fell to
his knees beside me. Although he did not join us in prayer, he bowed his head.
A single tear appeared in the corner of his gentle brown eye and slid to the
tip of his chin. Burying his face in his hands, he cried for the first time
since he became a vampire. The release of pent-up emotion effected an immediate
change in him. “I loved your
Mama, Norah,” he solemnly stated. “She was kindness personified. I am so sorry
for my uncle’s actions. He…he lured women to the castle to become governesses
to the children. The poor women did not know his real intention"to suck the
life out of them. I wish I could have saved her.” The sun began its
descent onto the horizon. Ranulf lifted Mama’s body and carried her to the
castle gently. Entering a disused portion of the castle, he halted at a
boarded-up door. With Prentiss’s aid, they removed the barrier, and we entered
the chapel. The Blessed Virgin and Child overlooked the ornate altar.
Carefully, my husband laid my mother before it. I knelt beside
her and offered a prayer for her soul. Beside me, Prentiss fell to his knees
and added his voice in supplication. Ranulf hovered behind us, uncertainly. Using
the strength of my mind, I willed him to join us. Still, he hesitated. The last westing
rays of sun beamed through the stained glass window, casting a glorious rainbow
across the chapel. Inspired by its beauty, I cast my eyes toward Ranulf, hoping
to share the joy. He stood amidst the light, his pale face suddenly transforming
into a healthy complexion. He sank to his knees beside me, his lips moving in
silent prayer. Finally, we laid
Mama to rest in the catacombs beneath the altar. Prentiss offered the requiem,
graciously endowing my mother with the best qualities. Following the scant
ceremony, I expressed my gratitude to my ex-fiancé for his kindness and
generosity. The hour drew
near midnight when Ranulf and I returned to the turret bedroom. I sat before
the mirror while he tended the fire. Soundlessly, he approached me, and,
removing the hairbrush from my hand, pulled it smoothly through my soft, brown
locks. He bent swiftly and placed a small kiss at the nape of my neck. Turning toward
him, I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. My husband
lifted me gently and carried me to bed. A soft smile lifted his mouth. I
caressed his cheek lovingly. “I am ready, my
love,” Ranulf breathed, pressing his strong body against mine. I rejoiced at the
rigid sensation as our bodies melted together to become one. Although he never
fully recovered from his vampirism, my husband transformed into a full man that
evening. The passion we shared grew into a deeper love"a love we fully celebrated
night after night. ****** Our devotion to each
other altered the entire aspect of von Helfin castle. A magic spell did not
changed the gloomy edifice overnight. Time brought about the transformation. Although
I never truly forgot the hellish vampire Baron, I grew away from the horror. Ranulf and I
greeted our first baby nine months after Mama’s burial. My husband wanted to
call her Isabella, but I insisted on Vanda-Luiza. “We should commemorate the poor lost
children,” I declared, holding my little one at my breast. “Luiza and I became
friends despite the circumstance. I cherished her companionship, and I thought
of Vanda as fate’s innocent victim.” “As you please,
my dearest,” my beloved agreed. “We shall bestow your mother’s charming name
upon our second daughter.” Our next child"a
son"appeared eighteen months later. I took a fancy to Romanian names and called
him Caturix. Six years passed before Cristofor entered our family. “The little von
Helfin family thrives,” Ranulf exclaimed, appearing at my side on the
sun-filled veranda. “Zamphir,” I
countered, grinning up at him. “The little Zamphir family thrives.” I continued
to avoid using the von Helfin title whenever possible. “Zamphir,” my
husband agreed, drawing me close and kissing my upturned mouth. “Norah
Zamphir"I have always liked the sound of it.” He tightened his embrace. Children’s laughter filled the cobbled
courtyard. Together, Ranulf and I looked upon the garden beneath. Vanda-Luiza
sat upon the swing while Caturix pushed with all his might. My daughter’s
outstretched legs reached for the sky. “Higher, higher,”
the little girl screamed as the swing hovered above the stone wall. Her laughter
floated across the distance, banishing past sorrows. “My turn,
Caturix,” Cristofor cried, toddling toward his two older siblings. “My turn.” Swiftly, my
eldest son grasped his little brother’s arm. Caturix pushed him aside before
the wooden swing could knock him down. Swiftly, his sister leaped down and
knelt beside the three-year-old boy. “You mustn’t run
beneath the swing, Cris,” she admonished, breathlessly. “You could get hurt.” My children, I
thought, so young, so full of life. I adored them with all my heart. Laughter and love
filled the old castle altering every aspect of it. No longer a forbidding ruin
clinging to a cragged mountain top, the sun glittered off the high white
turrets. Greenery brightened the courtyard and gardens. Even the forest
surrounding the precipice sprouted anew and thrived. Below, the
village came to life. Ranulf hired workers to rebuild and farmers to plant
crops. Grapes and apples grew in profusion along with wheat and corn. On
Wednesday afternoons, we held court and fairly judged local squabbles. I never cut ties
with my beloved homeland. Once a year, following the plentiful harvest, we
traveled to England. Prentiss Wills, happily married to Vicar Martin Halifax’s
niece, Aimee, welcomed us into his vicarage home. He had taken the living in
Cornwall and lived near the seaside on the North coast. It pleased me that he
named one of his twin daughters Norah. The other one was called Naomi. Ranulf never
fully recovered from his vampirism, but his pale complexion darkened. His
cheeks glowed peach with delight when he cast his deep eyes upon his growing
family. Cherry tones accented his full lips, and his sharp canines became less
prominent. Often I ran my fingers into his unruly black hair. I loved him dearly.
Despite the Baron’s cruelty, I would not changed the past if it meant living
without my true love. © 2023 Lea SherynFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorLea SherynSarasota, FLAboutI love to write! To have the ability to put words together to express myself is an ability that I cherish. Working for years to strengthen my talent, I am a self taught Word Weaver. Up until now, I.. more..Writing
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