Only Ever Four by Kelsie Thorschmidt
Paulette, cast adrift from her family and her beau, is drawn to a mansion and entrapped by its mysteries.
Within the car that slowly wound through the maze of country roads, no one knew there sat a young woman in dire distress, her whole life having unexpectedly plummeted into the lowest depths of human experience. Not even the driver, who was paying far more mind to the road on this black, stormy night, had any inkling that the female passenger behind him was in the throes of misery.
Miss Paulette Fairbringer considered this fact while tasting the salt from her silent tears. No one knew where she was, and once they noticed her absence, she would be a mere talking point of scandal for a month at most, and then, forgotten completely.
Every moment, Paulette fought the urge to look inside her velvet-lined reticule, knowing she would see two train tickets staring back at her for a train that had departed nearly an hour ago. In her mind she was still standing on the covered railway platform, the rain pounding on the roof, staring with elated anticipation at her lover before he uttered the words that she had never anticipated, and would never forget.
In a dismal trance she gazed out the car window, watching the branches on the bare winter trees whip against each other in the violent wind. After a turn in the road, the trees gave way, and she could see a wrought-iron fence wrapped around a sizable estate, the shadow of a great house hanging in the distance.
Such grandiose homes were a common sight for a daughter born into privilege and wealth. But a quick flash of lightning that illuminated the house struck up a sudden interest in Paulette, and a rather miraculous lapse in her melancholy occurred.
"Sir, what home lies on that estate?" she inquired of the driver.
"Pardon?" he answered, sounding distracted as he leaned forward to squint through the windshield, as no lamps lit this road.
Getting the sense he would be of little help, she looked once more at the house, hoping to catch another glimpse of the overgrown ivy and the boards which covered some of the windows. It was then that she noticed a light seeping through the curtain of the uppermost window, bright enough that it must be electric for her to see it at this distance. But electricity in what looked to be a derelict and unmaintained old monster of a home? Even her parents had yet to install electricity.
"These blasted roads," muttered the driver.
But Paulette hardly heard him, for her eyes were still fixed on the upper room window. She felt a quick tremor in her heart when the curtain moved ever so slightly, revealing what was unmistakably the figure of a person staring out.
"Stop the car."
With the force and urgency that Paulette said this, the driver was quick to put his foot on the brake and turn to her with utmost concern. "What is it? What's the matter?"
It took a few seconds for it to occur to Paulette that she had said anything, and a few more for her to realize what she had said. And then came the greatest question of all, why she had said it. No answers came to her, yet she could not deny the overwhelming urge to exit the car. Throwing open her reticule, she blindly dug through it to avoid seeing the tickets. When her fingers landed on several bills, she passed them to the driver.
"I don't feel right leaving you here on your own, miss!"
But when another few bills were passed his way, the last that she had, he was silenced. Seconds later, rain pelted her hat as she watched the car disappear down the road, the golden glow of its headlights growing fainter before being swallowed by the dark.
She stood there for at least a minute, reticule on her arm and tightly clutching her carpet bag, still confused at herself. But this confusion continued to provide a very welcome distraction.
The gates of the estate stood wide open on crooked hinges, the pebbled drive covered in sprouting weeds. Glancing once more at the window, she swallowed to see the figure still standing there, whom she could now make out to be a man. But now instead of looking out at a nondescript vehicle, he could surely see a very wet and very sad girl standing at the threshold of his property.
It took less courage than she thought to make her way down the drive and mount the mossy steps of the house. When she neared the door, a peculiar thing happened. A sudden blurriness swam across her vision, and she felt a strange resistance as she took another step, as though she were passing through a transparent curtain. When her vision cleared, she was met with the same front door, though in a much different state than before. The red paint was vibrant and fresh. The stained glass detailing glimmered under the light from two lanterns on both sides of the door.
She did not have much time to inspect the door, however, for it was quickly thrown open, giving her a start.
"Goodness," she let out breathlessly, now staring into the eyes of a man who was certainly no servant. Dressed in a fine day suit, his young, handsome features were intense before melting into a charming smile.
"I apologize for frightening you," he said in a crisp, lilted voice. "We saw you out on the road and assumed you sought shelter from this dreadful storm."
We? she thought. "Why yes, I thought I saw someone in the upper window."
At this, his expression took on one of alarm, his thick brows raising over his widened dark eyes. "You could see through the window?"
"Why, yes." She frowned at his strange consternation. "I -"
"It's no matter." He shook his head and waved her in. "Come, come, before you catch a chill!" He sought her gloved hand and gently tugged her inside.
He closed the door behind them, echoing in the incredible chamberlike foyer where Paulette now found herself. She had barely a second to drink in the sight before the young man swept back in front of her.
"It's so good to have you here... Miss?"
"Fairbringer," she completed for him. "Paulette Fairbringer."
"Wonderful." He smiled, his dark irises performing a quick scan of her face, before he realized his need to supply his own name. "Fortune." He dipped his head. "Fortune Salloway. We are more than pleased to provide you with lodging to wait out the storm. Allow me to show you upstairs."
He offered his arm, and once again Paulette acted without thinking. She basked in her surroundings as she was led straight up a grand staircase, then another and another, until the foyer over the railing seemed leagues below. Yet the ceiling above continued to soar impressively over her head. Her wet shoes sunk into the plush carpeted runners in each hall, lit with dim electric sconces that cast her long shadow on the alabaster paneled walls.
How any of this sumptuous splendor could be found in a house that from the outside appeared all but forsaken, was the marvel that consumed her thoughts before Fortune interrupted them.
He stopped before a pair of double doors at what looked to be the top floor. "I would love to introduce you to my family before you retire."
Paulette nodded. "Of course. It would give me a chance to extend my gratitude to them for allowing me to stay. To you as well, Mr. Salloway."
"Please, just call me Fortune," he corrected. "It's so rare I go by Mr. Salloway that it's rather strange to hear it."
Paulette nodded again, though she could practically hear her mother's voice in her ear telling her how improper it was to call a man she just met by his first name. But if that was his preference, she would not deny it to him, especially not in his own home.
Fortune entered through the doors, Paulette following a few steps behind. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the bright lighting of the room, not being fully accustomed to electricity. Fortune announced her before she could see to whom she was being presented.
"It's my pleasure to introduce our visitor for the evening, Miss Paulette Fairbringer."
He stepped aside, revealing a sitting room that a house of this magnitude likely had dozens of, with the same sweeping ceilings as the rest of the house, a crackling fire the centerpiece of yet another display of regal opulence.
Seated in one of the gilded armchairs sat a silver-haired matron far past her youth, but not so old as to explain her hunched posture. Her black dress flowing around her ankles gave her the appearance of a wilted flower. She struggled to raise her head, a faraway look in her blue eyes.
"Mother," Fortune prompted when she said nothing, motioning once more to the young woman he had just introduced.
"You are very welcome here, my dear," she finally offered, giving a fleeting weak smile. "I do hope you make yourself at home."
"My mother, Lady Salloway," Fortune completed the introduction.
A clinking sound drew their attention to a head peeking over the top of a gold velvet wingback chair facing the fire, the occupant making no effort to acknowledge them.
Fortune cleared his throat and gestured for Paulette to come around with him to the chair's other side, where she came face to face with this other member of the Salloway family. It was not until she had stood before him a good five seconds that he drew his eyes off his glass of whiskey.
Paulette had many times in her life been met with a stern, dour look by her father. So to be looked at in such a way should not be unfamiliar or unsettling. But such a look in the face of this young man, who had not known her all her life, was daunting. This clean-shaven, smartly dressed man somewhere in his thirties with neatly-combed chestnut hair stared at her with fierce hazel eyes; she felt a hold on her that made looking away feel like an absolute impossibility.
"My brother, Locke Salloway," she heard Fortune say from close behind.
No sooner had Fortune finished saying this did his brother's gaze fall to the fire, and Paulette felt the hold on her release. He clinked his ice once more in his glass. "Have you checked on Katronella?"
Paulette's confusion quickly shifted to understanding that this question was not aimed at her, bearing with it the cold fact that she had been entirely ignored.
"Not yet. I was going to return to her shortly," Fortune answered, to which Paulette noticed Lady Salloway draw her hand to her brow. Her wrinkles deepened as a shadow of sorrow crossed her face.
Despite standing so close to the fire, Paulette was surprised to feel little warmth in this room. It seemed she might not be as welcome here as Fortune had implied.
"I'm afraid you've found us on a rather troubling night, Miss Fairbringer," Fortune thankfully explained. "My dear sister Katronella is suffering in the next room from an illness that has plagued her since she was a child. It's likely she will not be with us much longer."
"Goodness," was the only word she could think to say to such horrible news. "I apologize for intruding on this most difficult time for your family."
"You have no reason to be sorry. In fact, it's rare for my sister to have visitors. I believe she would love to meet you. You needn't worry about catching her illness. It cannot be passed to others."
To argue seemed incredibly impolite to this family who was showing her such generosity in allowing her to stay. So, despite her reservations, she let Fortune lead the way. As she neared the double doors of the sitting room, she turned once more to see that Locke had risen from his chair, and had pulled back the curtain to look out what she now realized must be the uppermost window of the house.
The bedroom down the hall held the familiar warm glow of candles. The moment she stepped inside, however, she sensed a presence she had felt only once in her life when sitting at the bedside of her ailing grandmother. Fortune was right. Death was near for his sister. Yet in spite of this, her beauty had in no way diminished, making her look like an angel ready to be ushered into Heaven. Long chestnut curls feathered around her head, and she opened her eyes to reveal clear blue irises reminiscent of a glassy lake. She beamed when she saw her brother and the visitor he had brought.
"Oh, I knew someone would be along," she spoke, her voice terribly hoarse. "I prayed and I prayed."
Paulette frowned at these perplexing remarks before realizing it must be the effects of fever, which the beads of sweat on her forehead told of.
"Don't worry, it won't be much longer," she continued. "I'll try to hurry it along."
Paulette turned to see if Fortune could make any sense of her words, but he avoided her gaze.
"I'll leave you two alone for a moment," he said. "Excuse me." With that, he disappeared into the hall.
A chair was already placed beside the canopied four poster bed and, weighted with compassion for this girl who looked to be her same age, Paulette sat willing to bring whatever comfort she could.
"You're lovely," Katronella whispered.
Paulette humbly dipped her head. "You're very kind."
"But you're sad. What troubles you?"
Paulette smiled at the irony of this dying girl asking about her plights. She had no plans to unleash them onto her. She had enough to bear. Yet seeing the sympathetic concern that furrowed Katronella's brow, she felt her tongue loosen.
"I discovered tonight that the man I love does not love me at all." This verbal acknowledgement of tonight's dreadful revelation ignited something in her that thrust her back to the railway platform, until Katronella reached out her hand and she was returned to the bedroom.
"I gave up every privilege that was mine at birth," she heard herself continue. Perhaps there was some comfort in confiding in someone who did not know her, and who would not carry her secret for long. "My parents disapproved of the match you see, but I had hopes they would change their minds about him once we eloped. I had assured Warren - that is, Mr. McTyler - of this. But when I told him tonight that my parents had denied me my inheritance and disowned me as their daughter, he was the one to alter his decision regarding our marriage.
"And so I'm left with nothing and nobody at all. My parents will never take me back now." She thought it indelicate to make it clear exactly why her parents would want nothing more to do with her. So much shame she had mounted upon the family name. Not only for planning to board a train and run off with a penniless commoner. Being so certain that Warren McTyler loved her and wanted to be her husband, she had not seen it necessary to wait for what was traditionally only acceptable within the confines of marriage.
"Then you must stay," Katronella told her with surprising energy, a smile lighting up her face and eyes. "Make this your home. Take Fortune or Locke for a husband. Though you must promise to never have children. That would simply not do."
Her words left Paulette stunned, but compassion returned to her upon remembering that they were coming from someone whose mind was swirling with fever. She patted Katronella on the hand. "Dear girl, I fear I'm causing you too much excitement. You must return to resting now."
She sat with her just a few more minutes, and soon heard murmuring outside the door. She recognized one of the voices as Fortune's.
"I'm keeping close watch on the time. Don't worry. She's been here less than an hour."
"She's just a girl. We know nothing about her."
Though she had only heard him offer one sentence earlier in the sitting room, Paulette identified this lower, brusquer voice as Locke's.
"What other choice do we have?" returned Fortune. "Don't you see how perfectly tonight has played out? She could see through the window. Can you explain that? It's fated, I tell you."
As Paulette was trying to work out what they were speaking of, Katronella burst into a fit of coughing. The two brothers rushed in, seeing their sister fighting for breath. Paulette stepped aside to allow them to tend to her, and thankfully her coughing soon quelled.
"Have you sent for a doctor?" she inquired, it suddenly striking her as odd that they had not already done so.
"Miss Fairbringer, allow me to show you to your room," Fortune suggested. He placed his hand onto her arm and led her out. She cast one more look at Katronella, seeing Locke wiping her brow with a cloth.
Fortune escorted her a few floors below, bringing her to the door of a guest room before quickly departing to return to his sister. By the time Paulette had emptied the contents of her carpet bag and donned her nightgown, the clock on the bedside table read forty-eight minutes past twelve in the morning.
Weighted down by the goose-feather bedding, she was not sure she had slept at all before the sound of sorrowful wailing had her opening her door, where the sound echoed hauntingly throughout the house's chasms and corridors. She did not need to go back upstairs to investigate. She would only disturb the mourners whose cries stated the obvious. Katronella was gone.
Paulette returned to bed with an even heavier heart than when she first entered this house. The clock now read fourteen past one o'clock. She resolved to leave first thing in the morning to allow the family to grieve alone.
She awoke with a foggy head, heavy eyes, and stiff muscles that were telling of a full night's slumber. Yet when she drew back the curtains, she was met with the same scene as when she had closed them the evening before, complete darkness aside from a faint silhouetted backdrop of trees and the hills beyond. Raindrops still battered the panes. Had she not slept through to the morning after all?
Looking at the clock on the bedside table, it still read fourteen past one o'clock. With a closer look, she saw that the second hand had frozen.
A sudden knock on the door drew her attention from the time. Quickly securing her dressing gown with its tie, she opened it to find Fortune. Though red-eyed and weary-faced, she was surprised to see him give a cordial bow paired with a faint smile.
"Good morning, Miss Fairbringer. Would you care to join me for breakfast?"
So it was indeed morning. Perhaps the clouds from the storm were so thick and black, it simply gave the appearance of still being nighttime.
"I do appreciate the offer, but I had planned to pack my things and be out of your way." She lowered her eyes. "I extend my deepest condolences to your family."
Fortune looked past her with a grave sigh. "Indeed. My family is lost in grief. Yet I hate to see you disappear so soon after your arrival. As strange as it may sound, having a young female presence in the house could actually be a comfort. So please," he reached out and took her hand. "Don't be in any hurry to go. Won't you stay at least a few more days?"
Paulette stared down at the hand he held, knowing very well that although she had planned to leave, there truly was nowhere else she could go. And staying in a magnificent house in the company of a grieving but hospitable family was more favorable than sleeping under a bridge somewhere.
"I suppose, if you truly don't mind. I promise to not be a bother."
Fortune planted a light kiss on her hand. "There is no chance of that, Miss Fairbringer."
Once dressed in one of the three plain day dresses she had packed upon her departure from her parents' estate, Paulette joined Fortune downstairs. Their simple breakfast of eggs and buttered toast looked admittedly out of place in the ostentatious dining room which looked fit to host the king. The other two members of the Salloway family did not make an appearance. Fortune moved to the adjoining music room after breakfast where he poured out a lyrical nocturne on the grand piano, soon looking lost in the music.
Paulette took to exploring the house while he continued to play, and as she swept past room after room, it dawned on her that she had yet to see a single servant. A house of this size would certainly have a staff of dozens. When she stumbled upon a gallery, she was met with a most perplexing sight. Lady Salloway herself had a rag in hand that she was using to dust the gilded portrait frames. Paulette quietly ducked out before she took notice of her.
But this was not the only oddity. The first day passed quickly with the novelty of exploration. Yet she awoke the next day to another morning that did not feel like morning at all. She squinted at the sky through the glass, hoping to see even a dusky grey that gave hope of the sun hiding behind the clouds. But the sky remained an impenetrable black. She had never experienced such a storm in her lifetime. Surely it would not last much longer.
She wandered the halls yet again, this time on the first level where she came upon glass doors leading to a conservatory. Her spirits lifted at the sight of a glorious garden, maintained with meticulous care. The sweet fragrance of violets and lilies flooded her nose. She only wished the conservatory was better lit to see the colors to their best advantage.
She came to a stop when she stumbled upon Locke who was trimming away dead lily blossoms. She sensed the intrusion of his privacy when she saw tears in his eyes, though his face turned stoic and cold at her arrival.
"I do hope this dreadful storm ends soon," she commented, simply attempting to lessen the awkwardness by remarking on the weather.
Locke met her gaze with the same intensity of the night they met, and snapped his pruning shears shut. "Except it never will."
Her chest seized at the words, and her heart was sent racing. She felt compelled to leave the conservatory. Making her exit, she stood in the hall to collect herself. Locke could only be attempting to frighten her, she assured herself. Unlike his brother, he did not seem to like her much at all.
Standing nearby was a grandfather clock she had not noticed earlier, having not paid much mind to the time these past two days. She squinted when she read on its face fourteen past one o'clock, an oddly familiar time, which she quickly recalled was the same time as the frozen clock on her bedside table. And just like that clock, the second hand on the grandfather clock was completely still.
Curious, she decided to seek out the next nearest clock, which she found on the floor above on a side table. Just the same - frozen at fourteen past one o'clock. Heading to the next floor, there was a clock mounted to the wall. Fourteen past one o'clock. She moved quicker, her heart beginning to thud again as she stopped inside various rooms in search of more clocks. Not one was working, and not one read a different time.
She made it to the top floor sitting room, nearly flinging open the doors with her swift entrance.
"Gracious!" Lady Salloway's hand flew to her heart.
The open curtains displayed the same dreary wet scene that had not changed in the slightest since her arrival here.
"Miss Fairbringer?" Fortune rose from the couch. "Is something the matter?"
Paulette stopped in front of the mantelpiece where there sat a crystal clock. Fourteen past one o'clock.
"I would like to know why all the clocks read the same time," she demanded, hearing a quaver in her voice. She pointed towards the windows. "And why does it always feel like night?"
Paulette noted that Fortune and Lady Salloway's faces did not bear any shock, and rather they exchanged a long, knowing look. Fortune gave a nod.
"Come sit, Miss Fairbringer," he suggested, pointing to the armchair nearest him.
She chose instead a spot on the far side of the couch, slowly sinking onto it.
"You do require an explanation, and I apologize for any secrecy on our part. But if you had been told our secret when you first arrived here, you never would have believed it, and it would have made you fearful of us. However, now that you have come to know us better and see that we mean you no harm, I will tell you bluntly. This house, Breckworth Manor, is under a curse which has frozen our house in time, making it eternally night. For three years, the occupants of this house have not seen the light of day."
His words fell upon the ears of someone who was never allowed to indulge in fantasies or flights of imagination, being told by her parents they were frivolous. So to hear such a preposterous thing almost made her laugh. But Fortune's face portrayed perfect seriousness.
"For us it is not so much a curse, but a blessing," he went on. "Our family has suffered such pain in recent years, even more so now with the loss of Katronella, that hiding from the world provides us with great solace. When my family saw you standing outside in the rain, we sensed you also needed sanctuary not only from the storm, but from this deeply cruel world. Katronella mentioned before she left us the terrible loss you have suffered. And it is our great hope that you can find the same escape from your troubles here that we have."
A myriad of questions swirled in Paulette's mind, and fears took shape. Either she was dreaming, she was mad, or Fortune was telling the truth. She could not yet discern which. "Am I a prisoner?" she wondered aloud.
"I hope you never feel that way. My family has every intention of making this a lovely home for you. I encourage you to view this house as a safe haven as we do. If, however, after some time has passed and you are truly unhappy here, perhaps the curse would permit you to leave."
A sound drew their heads to the door where Locke stood and had perhaps overheard the discussion. Everyone in the Salloway family remained silent while Paulette tried to absorb the impossible information she had just been told.
A glass of whiskey was soon presented to her by none other than Locke, and as she sipped away at it, she realized she could do what perhaps any sane person should do. She could demand more explanation and answers regarding this supposed curse. She could fight back against these people who were, in truth, her captors. She could try to make an escape.
But as she looked around at the Salloways who sat with her near the crackling fire, Fortune taking up a book, Lady Salloway working on her needlepoint, and Locke sipping on his own glass of whiskey, she realized something else. That if she were to be trapped anywhere, there were far worse places than this. At least these were people who, unlike everyone else in the world, did not wish to turn her out of their lives.
Maybe it was folly to stay here. Or maybe it was providential. Only time would tell.
In the week that followed, the endless night continued to prove rather unnerving. But as more time passed, Paulette soon found that comfort Fortune had spoken of in knowing that morning would never arrive, that she would never have to face the reality of her situation in life. No one in the family had asked her to share her story, for which she was thankful. Maybe Katronella had told them enough.
As to their situation and why this affluent family chose to stay in a house frozen in time, Paulette allowed them to keep that to themselves as well. In that way they could all pretend that the past had never happened. Maybe one day she would forget her former existence as an unloved daughter, jilted lover, and society reject.
Most days Fortune was her companion, whom she learned was two years her junior. They whiled away their time playing duets on the piano or discussing the classics in one of the house's two vast libraries. Some days she would help Lady Salloway polish the silver or do the washing, or the whole family would make some attempt at creating an edible meal in the kitchen. The absence of servants was an adjustment along with everything else.
Locke was one that Paulette rarely saw, but always knew where to find. She soon realized he did not mind her presence in the conservatory, so long as she kept quiet and allowed him to work. She sometimes watched from afar, admiring the delicate care he employed while tending to the flowers. On one such occasion, she realized she had drawn closer without realizing.
"How do they thrive without the sun?" she asked.
"They don't," he answered. "Lilies and violets thankfully require little sun, so I have to make do with heated water and lamps. Still, many don't end up surviving. This garden would be far more impressive if the flowers had sunlight."
"I still think it's lovely," she said.
"You should have seen it years ago. The garden outside the house was one of the finest gardens in England. My father and I spent hours perfecting it with the help of the groundskeepers."
Paulette could not help but notice the complete brightening of his face, his eyes, and even his voice at the mention of the past, which she had purposed to never speak or even think of. It seemed not everyone in the house lived by this unspoken rule. It had not occurred to her that some people did not wish to leave their pasts completely behind.
The short conversations between her and Locke lengthened each day, mostly about flowers or gardening methods. Yet they always seemed to divert to memories he would share, such as descriptions of the gardens he had seen in his lifetime, which were so vivid Paulette could imagine herself walking through them. She could not help the surge of longing they sent through her - to the point that, when she would awaken from sleep and find yet another gloomy night on the other side of the curtains, she began to feel a lingering disappointment.
Once, when Locke was telling her of tropical flowers abroad, she heard the words escape her mouth, "Do you miss it?"
He frowned. "Miss what?"
"The day."
He said nothing at first and returned to watering the flowers. "I miss the warm gentle breeze in summer. And the buzzing of bees."
His descriptions once again ignited her imagination and sent her somewhere beautiful. "And the bubbling of the water fountains. Or the fresh scent of grass."
This went on for several minutes, leaving them with smiles that faded quickly.
"I miss the roar of the ocean, holding my father's hand as we searched for seashells." She stopped, realizing she was recalling the single pleasant memory she had of her father. It was the one and only time she had felt loved by one of her parents. And ever since feeling that love, she had chased it, hoping to one day find it again somewhere in some form. And she finally thought that she had, that she was entering a new era of her life as Mrs. Warren McTyler.
The sound of the raindrops on the glass conservatory ceiling now sounded too similar to the ones falling on the cover of the railway platform. How quickly her happy memory had shifted to one entirely the opposite.
Just an hour ago she had been singing a jolly tune with Fortune at the piano, and such dreary thoughts were nowhere on her mind. Now with this other Salloway brother, she had opened up a part of her she thought she wanted to keep sealed shut forever. But even though time had stopped in this house, it was becoming clear that her pain had not.
Her daily routine began to look much different, spending most of her time in her room with the curtains closed. The sight of the endless night was becoming intolerable. Whenever she did leave her room, it was to see Locke in the conservatory to hear more of his marvelous stories involving all those things one could only find in the daytime. Thoughts of leaving this house came to her more and more, yet were always followed by the fear of knowing that the world outside was a world where she would be only scorned, humiliated, and despised.
She never joined the family for dinner now, for she rarely had an appetite. At first she simply had no desire to eat, but then came a stomach upset that refused to abate. Even the broth that Fortune would bring to her room would end up being vomited back up in the water closet.
Typically a healthy young woman, these fierce bouts of nausea that left her pale and unable to leave bed made her worried she would face an early death like Katronella. That is, until one day she decided to try venturing to the conservatory, and as she was getting dressed, the stays of her corset felt especially constraining. She sat on the bed, the shallow breaths she was forced to take making her lightheaded.
There was a knock at the door. "Paulette? Are you still unwell?"
Not fully dressed, she was about to call out that she was indisposed when Locke stepped in. It was not until he saw her sitting on the bed holding her belly, his face taking on a look of alarmed realization, that it occurred to Paulette herself.
There was no way she could have gained weight by hardly eating a thing. And her monthly visitor, though never very regular since her adolescence, had not arrived since being in this house. She had not imagined her circumstances could get any more dire. But now, would even the Salloways want to associate with her once they learned this shameful news - that she was pregnant with her former lover's child?
She sat in the upstairs sitting room an hour later as the Salloways discussed this very matter. The whole family appeared shocked and even disturbed by what she told them, but not for reasons she had thought. In fact, it was unclear the exact reason that their eyes shifted around, Lady Salloway wrung her hands, and she saw Fortune get a drink for the first time. There was no disgust or judgement shown by any of them, but a very palpable tension. Locke showed the most composure. He sat beside Paulette, taking her hand, and offering words of comfort whenever she showed any signs of distress.
She too was still trying to grasp the fact that there was a child growing inside her body, a child who was part her and part the man she was hoping she would never again have to be reminded of. How could she look at her child, if it was Warren's eyes that stared back at her? She finally excused herself to her room where she could be alone.
She did not stay there for long. After unsuccessfully attempting to sleep, she found that an aimless walk throughout the house helped to keep her mind from dwelling on unpleasant thoughts. Walking the length of a dark hall in her nightclothes, she noticed light seeping under the door of a study. She pressed her ear to the door, and was met with the startling sound of raised voices. She could not make out any words through the thick polished mahogany, and was worried the door would make a sound if she opened it to hear better.
She soon gave up and continued down the hall. She was thankful she did, for the study door suddenly flew open, causing her to dash around a corner. A blustery Locke exited, slamming the door behind him and storming down the hall. From inside, she could now hear a woman loudly sobbing, which could only be Lady Salloway. Fortune exited a moment later, fuming.
Concealed in the shadows, Paulette went unnoticed. All this excitement prickled her nerves, and sent her mind into a spiral of concern that it was she who was the subject of their dispute. Perhaps they were determining whether or not to throw her out onto the street. She drew her hand over her belly, unsure anymore if leaving this house was an option she would welcome. If the world was not accepting of unmarried mothers, it certainly would not be accepting of her bastard child.
Knowing that sleep would not be possible with these thoughts bearing on her mind, she wandered to the top floor, finding the sitting room dark and empty. She stood at length by the window, gazing out at the forever unchanging view, and the very road she had stood the night of her arrival, a night which had not ended since.
Drowsiness finally overcame her, leading her back to the hall where she noticed the door of Katronella's room, always closed, was slightly cracked open. She found the stairs, her hand just about to touch the railing, when a strong force from behind suddenly thrust against her back.
She was hurled forward, flailing mid-air before crashing onto the hard unforgiving stair corners and tumbling down the remaining steps. Her consciousness threatened to give way, but when the stars before her eyes cleared, screams of pain sprang up in her throat, intensified by the horror that she might not be the only one affected by the fall. Her hands cradled her stomach.
Within seconds she heard footsteps pounding, quickly drawing closer, then gasps when the three Salloway family members found her at the bottom of the stairs. All three rushed to her, fussing and putting hands on her.
"She fell down the whole flight. It's a miracle she's alive!" Fortune cried.
Paulette blinked, still bleary. But some sense returned to her. "I did not fall. No, I was pushed. I'm certain that I was!"
The immediate flash of Locke's eyes onto Fortune's face did not escape her notice.
"Why do you look at me, brother?" came Fortune's response.
Suddenly her body was being gathered up into Locke's warm, sturdy arms. "I'm taking her to my room, where she'll be safe."
"You think it was me? But why would I do such a thing? Miss Fairbringer is my dear friend. Perhaps it was you!"
Paulette did not know what to make of these flying accusations. She could not conceive that any of them were capable of such a dastardly deed as murder. She would have sooner accused a ghost.
Her eyes landed on Lady Salloway, who did not accuse Fortune, but who also said nothing in his defense. Instead she averted her eyes like she could not stand to look at him, crumpling into a shaking, sobbing heap.
"We both know what you're capable of," Locke said. "It's time she knows everything, and I'll be the one to tell her."
Fortune could be heard shouting after them all the way to the door of Locke's room. With all the commotion, Paulette almost forgot her injuries. No blood ran down her legs to indicate a miscarriage. Locke snugly tucked her into his own bed and pulled up a chair beside her, taking her hand.
Although he was taking such gentle care of her, like one of his violets, Paulette could not feel much safety or security after someone in this house had attempted to end her life.
"I see the fear in your eyes. There is much to explain," said Locke. "I was against you coming into this house from the beginning, out of fear that something like this could happen."
"Fear that your brother would try to kill me?" she interjected, the thought still mystifying to her. She had developed a real brotherly affection for Fortune. Had he carried these evil intentions all along?
"No. Fear that this disgusting illusion my family has constructed would all fall apart. I knew it could not last forever. You see, it was not you that Fortune sought to kill, but the child you carry inside you."
Paulette's hands covered her stomach. "I don't understand. Because I'm unmarried?"
He shook his head. "If your child is born, the night that surrounds this house will finally see its end. There must only ever be four."
This last sentence he said like some rote phrase he had repeated many times, but it of course held no meaning for Paulette. He continued.
"There is a reason we hide in the night, Paulette. The world continues around this house, with no memory of those who live inside. But if the night ever ends, my family and our crimes will be remembered by all, and we'll be forced to pay the price for them.
"The Salloway name was once known throughout all of England. We were viewed almost as royalty, with Breckworth Manor our renowned palace. My father, Earl Salloway, though rich, was a generous and benevolent soul. So much so that when our neighbor, Viscount DeBaun, my father's close friend, requested a loan that he promised to repay the very next day, my father agreed without question. He did not so much as draft a written agreement. It was his trusting nature that led to my family's fall from grace. My father had no knowledge that our neighbor had a crippling gambling problem. Instead of paying my father back, he gambled away our family's money that very night.
"For weeks, society was unaware that only a small fraction of our family fortune remained. And in those weeks, my father piled blame upon himself for bringing our family so low. But there was nothing that could be done. The law could do nothing without any documentation to prove that such a loan had existed. The shame of it led my father to take his own life.
"In my rage and anguish, I regrettably told Fortune that Viscount DeBaun should die for his crimes. I had no idea that my little brother would take me so seriously. One stormy night, he shook me awake. Blood stained his hands and clothes. He dragged me to our neighbor's house where he showed me the body of Viscount DeBaun whose life he had taken with my father's pistol. I was in such a state of shock and desperation that I tried to help him stage the murder as a suicide, only to be caught by the viscount's daughter.
"Together we raced back to Breckworth Manor, certain that the daughter had seen us and recognized us. Constables would surely be at our door by morning. After learning what we had done, Katronella and my mother were inconsolable. They could not stand the thought of us being sent to prison, or possibly hanged for murder, so soon after losing Father. And that was when my brother proposed such a radical idea, we were certain he had gone completely mad.
"Back in boarding school, Fortune apparently had a friend with a deep knowledge of witchcraft. He shared all his knowledge with my brother and taught him his ways. It sounded like utter lunacy to me. However, Fortune told us he had successfully cast some simple enchantments in boarding school, and could now attempt one that could save us from our current peril - an enchantment that would keep us hidden and forgotten by the world, free to live and grow old peacefully in the confines of this house with a food supply that would never run dry. My mother and Katronella were willing to try anything to keep us safe and together as a family. And to my sheer disbelief, it worked.
"For two years our clocks were frozen at around half past eleven. It was not until a wandering vagrant broke into our house one night that we realized the enchantment had a major flaw. The moment this man stepped into the house, the clocks began to turn. It took half an hour for us to find where he was inside before we forcibly turned him out."
Paulette pondered this, beginning to find clarity in the murky waters surrounding this family. The clocks had been moving when she arrived at this house. It was not until Katronella's death that they had frozen again. "There must only ever be four..." she repeated.
"Precisely. The house must remain at four occupants in order for the enchantment to stay in effect. No more and no less. Perhaps if someone more versed in magic had performed the enchantment, such a grave error could have been avoided. My brother has not attempted any magic since for fear of adding further defects to the enchantment. But now you can see the problem that will arise when you give birth. It seems the enchantment has not recognized your child as another occupant of the house with it being inside your womb, but once it's born..."
"I understand," said Paulette solemnly.
"It was never my desire to hold anyone prisoner here. We sought only to keep the enchantment in place when we brought you into our home. I feel such shame for involving you. But I had to protect my family. I'm truly the one to blame. Had I not said such a rash and foolish thing about killing Viscount DeBaun, my brother would never have committed such an act. We might have been poor without our family's wealth, but at least we could have been free."
At the mention of this word, free, a sudden flash of hope sparked in Paulette. "But you still can," she told him. "You can leave this house right now."
He looked at her like she had just spoken the impossible.
"You blame yourself for the death of the viscount, but you were not the one who killed him. Fortune is guilty, not you. There's no reason for you to stay here to protect him."
"I could not do that to my brother, abandoning him to face punishment alone."
"He made a choice," she insisted, "as we all must do in our lives. He made the wrong one. And like all of us, he must live with the consequences."
"Except I'm not viewed as innocent, Paulette. The viscount's daughter saw my face and thinks I was involved in the murder."
"But you have not yet been charged. You could escape to another country and vanish before you're accused of a crime you did not commit. You could start a new life somewhere, perhaps one of the many beautiful places you've told me about."
"And what about you?" he inquired. "I suppose in a new country, you would be unknown, your reputation untarnished."
Paulette did not feel bold enough to speak aloud the full extent of her plan, but she sensed that Locke understood what she was implying. Yes, she could start anew. Her child could have a chance at a life with a man who was not his father, but who could claim him as his own. Perhaps even loving the child's mother, and seeking her hand in marriage.
Before this could be discussed any further, there was a rap at the door. Her body tensed, and she snatched Locke's hand. "Whatever you decide, I intend to leave this house. I will not let that man try to harm my child again."
Locke gave her a long look before heading to the door. He allowed Fortune to enter, but made sure to block him from taking more than a few steps.
"She knows everything now, Fortune," Locke stopped him before he could speak. "She desires to leave this house, and I believe we should let her."
Fortune's dark eyes flashed over to Paulette.
"As much as I love you, brother," Locke continued, "I think it's time we acknowledge that this night needs to finally reach its end."
A quiet rattle drew all their eyes to the door where Lady Salloway appeared, bearing a tray of tea things. She strode inside, straight-backed and without so much as a hobble.
"Let us not rush matters, Locke," she told her son in an almost scolding way. "There is still much time before the child is born. I think we should calm ourselves, and perhaps then we can think more rationally."
Tea trickled out of the pot, and she passed cups and saucers around.
"I've quite made my decision," Paulette informed her.
"I understand. But as an expecting mother, I think you can understand my desire to not see harm come to my sons. So let us spend more time considering possible options." She passed her a cup with an affectionate smile.
Paulette's eyes shifted when she saw that Locke had raised his teacup to his mouth, but was not drinking. Instead, he brought it closer to his nose where he circled it beneath his nostrils.
"What in heaven's name -" Lady Salloway cried when Locke suddenly rushed forward, nearly pushing his mother out of the way. He reached Paulette and pried her teacup from her grasp before tossing it against the wall.
"Unfortunately you did not disguise the herbs in your tea well enough, Mother," he told her, a fire in his voice. "Then of course, Paulette would not have noticed had I not. You forgot that I am versed in the effects of these herbs as well. And I know that had she drunk it, a miscarriage would have likely taken place within hours."
Once again, Paulette felt the same panicked fear that had seized her earlier when she found herself at the bottom of the stairs.
"Mother..." Fortune breathed, his voice tinged with disbelief. She felt the condemnation she had formed against Fortune begin to shift to the proper culprit.
"I do not deny it," was Lady Salloway's unwavering response to the accusation. "How could I let this girl's illicit offspring destroy what has shielded our family from the wrath we will face if morning ever shines upon this house? I was willing to do whatever it took to make certain that wretched child did not take away from me the only ones I have left in this world."
At this her formidable countenance broke, and she descended into weeping.
Locke looked down upon his pitiable mother. "If such acts are what it takes for an enchantment to remain in place, Mother, it is not worth continuing."
"But what about us, Locke?" Fortune cut in. "Are you really prepared for what will become of you and me? We'll rot in prison or be hanged. Mother will be destitute and alone. And what of Paulette? Do you know the trials she will face with a child and no husband?"
Lady Salloway's weeping grew ever louder.
Locke, forgoing his former hostility towards Fortune, went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Brother, you are dear to me. For years I have carried the guilt of feeling I forced your hand into killing the viscount. To protect you, I was willing to stay in this house until my old age. But since this option is no longer available to us, I must ask that you let me go. For the truth is that it was not the both of us who committed the crime for which we must stay hidden, but you alone."
Fortune's eyes widened with the sort of shock that made it clear he had never expected such words from his loyal, protective older brother. Following the shock came a wash of fear like Locke had just pushed him out onto a precipice and asked him to jump.
"You said it was fate the night Paulette found us," said Locke. "It did seem most fortuitous how she arrived the very night of Katronella's death. You said when you created the enchantment that to those on the outside, the house should appear abandoned and desolate. Yet she was able to see through the window. And she saw me. I believe now that it was fate that she came here, but not to preserve the enchantment. Rather, to show us that staying hidden in the dark only creates an even greater darkness inside ourselves."
Fortune's eyes looked everywhere but his brother's face, his mind surely busy envisioning what his future would be if he granted Locke's request. The sound of his mother's howling could not have made making such a decision easy.
With every second that passed, Paulette began to lose hope that Fortune would give in. His fear had stripped away his usual confident air, replacing it with a childlike vulnerability. It came as a great surprise then when he quietly uttered some words beneath his breath that made Paulette sit up in bed, worried she had only imagined them.
"You may go. Both of you."
"Fortune, no!" screamed Lady Salloway.
But Paulette hardly heard her anymore. After embracing his brother, Locke's eyes focused on her and her alone, coming to her and helping her from bed. Finding that she could walk, he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. The flicker of hope within her earlier now ignited to a full blaze as he rushed her out of the room without looking back.
The screams of his mother must have pierced Locke's tender heart, knowing he would never see her again. Yet his grip on Paulette's hand felt so certain and sure, that she held no fear he would change his mind.
When the great double doors of the foyer stood before them, it was he who reached out his hand to open them, displaying the ever-enduring torrent of rainfall from the cloudy night sky. They descended the steps of the house, and Paulette experienced that same strange sensation of passing through an invisible curtain as when she had arrived at the house; now, she knew it to be the boundaries of the enchantment.
It took only a few miles of running through sodden fields for the rain to turn to a drizzle, a mist, and then, a clear night of stars. Before long, they would behold together that great star that gave life to all the earth, which would be known by them once again.
And Paulette would know the sun for many years to come, overseeing her husband in the garden of their Caribbean abode, bouncing her little boy on her hip. She kissed the boy's head without a single thought of his real father, whom she strangely no longer remembered. It was not by choice that she had forgotten him, or that Locke seemed to have lost all memory of his brother, Fortune.
The only force that could be strong enough to make them forget such key figures in their lives was an enchantment, the one that surrounded Breckworth Manor, which caused the world to forget those who lived inside.
Unbeknownst to Locke and Paulette, the night of their departure, Fortune had opened the doors of the house only an hour later to find a young man and a striking older woman on his arm, her expensive furs sodden with rain. They explained that their car was stuck in the mud.
"I was not expecting anyone to be living here," said the young man. "I only sought shelter for my new bride. This spring storm caught us by complete surprise!"
Fortune's mother was still in hysterics faraway upstairs, having only grown worse after seeing the clocks had begun to turn again. Every tick of the clock this past hour was like a needle prick in Fortune's skin, making him wish he could now turn back time and not have allowed his brother to leave.
Now, his eyes scanned this different couple, taking note that the older woman looked past her child-bearing years.
"This is a magnificent house," the young man commented.
Fortune bowed. "I thank you. You are most welcome to stay the night. My name is Fortune. Fortune Salloway." He smiled at them, memorizing the faces of these people with whom he would become very familiar.
"How generous of you! We'll be out of your way by morning. My name is Warren. Mr. Warren McTyler."
Leading them up the stairs, Fortune stole a peek at his pocket watch. The second hand stood still. And this time, he would do everything in his power to make sure it never moved again.
 |
| Image generated with OpenAI |
Miss Paulette Fairbringer considered this fact while tasting the salt from her silent tears. No one knew where she was, and once they noticed her absence, she would be a mere talking point of scandal for a month at most, and then, forgotten completely.
Every moment, Paulette fought the urge to look inside her velvet-lined reticule, knowing she would see two train tickets staring back at her for a train that had departed nearly an hour ago. In her mind she was still standing on the covered railway platform, the rain pounding on the roof, staring with elated anticipation at her lover before he uttered the words that she had never anticipated, and would never forget.
In a dismal trance she gazed out the car window, watching the branches on the bare winter trees whip against each other in the violent wind. After a turn in the road, the trees gave way, and she could see a wrought-iron fence wrapped around a sizable estate, the shadow of a great house hanging in the distance.
Such grandiose homes were a common sight for a daughter born into privilege and wealth. But a quick flash of lightning that illuminated the house struck up a sudden interest in Paulette, and a rather miraculous lapse in her melancholy occurred.
"Sir, what home lies on that estate?" she inquired of the driver.
"Pardon?" he answered, sounding distracted as he leaned forward to squint through the windshield, as no lamps lit this road.
Getting the sense he would be of little help, she looked once more at the house, hoping to catch another glimpse of the overgrown ivy and the boards which covered some of the windows. It was then that she noticed a light seeping through the curtain of the uppermost window, bright enough that it must be electric for her to see it at this distance. But electricity in what looked to be a derelict and unmaintained old monster of a home? Even her parents had yet to install electricity.
"These blasted roads," muttered the driver.
But Paulette hardly heard him, for her eyes were still fixed on the upper room window. She felt a quick tremor in her heart when the curtain moved ever so slightly, revealing what was unmistakably the figure of a person staring out.
"Stop the car."
With the force and urgency that Paulette said this, the driver was quick to put his foot on the brake and turn to her with utmost concern. "What is it? What's the matter?"
It took a few seconds for it to occur to Paulette that she had said anything, and a few more for her to realize what she had said. And then came the greatest question of all, why she had said it. No answers came to her, yet she could not deny the overwhelming urge to exit the car. Throwing open her reticule, she blindly dug through it to avoid seeing the tickets. When her fingers landed on several bills, she passed them to the driver.
"I don't feel right leaving you here on your own, miss!"
But when another few bills were passed his way, the last that she had, he was silenced. Seconds later, rain pelted her hat as she watched the car disappear down the road, the golden glow of its headlights growing fainter before being swallowed by the dark.
She stood there for at least a minute, reticule on her arm and tightly clutching her carpet bag, still confused at herself. But this confusion continued to provide a very welcome distraction.
The gates of the estate stood wide open on crooked hinges, the pebbled drive covered in sprouting weeds. Glancing once more at the window, she swallowed to see the figure still standing there, whom she could now make out to be a man. But now instead of looking out at a nondescript vehicle, he could surely see a very wet and very sad girl standing at the threshold of his property.
It took less courage than she thought to make her way down the drive and mount the mossy steps of the house. When she neared the door, a peculiar thing happened. A sudden blurriness swam across her vision, and she felt a strange resistance as she took another step, as though she were passing through a transparent curtain. When her vision cleared, she was met with the same front door, though in a much different state than before. The red paint was vibrant and fresh. The stained glass detailing glimmered under the light from two lanterns on both sides of the door.
She did not have much time to inspect the door, however, for it was quickly thrown open, giving her a start.
"Goodness," she let out breathlessly, now staring into the eyes of a man who was certainly no servant. Dressed in a fine day suit, his young, handsome features were intense before melting into a charming smile.
"I apologize for frightening you," he said in a crisp, lilted voice. "We saw you out on the road and assumed you sought shelter from this dreadful storm."
We? she thought. "Why yes, I thought I saw someone in the upper window."
At this, his expression took on one of alarm, his thick brows raising over his widened dark eyes. "You could see through the window?"
"Why, yes." She frowned at his strange consternation. "I -"
"It's no matter." He shook his head and waved her in. "Come, come, before you catch a chill!" He sought her gloved hand and gently tugged her inside.
He closed the door behind them, echoing in the incredible chamberlike foyer where Paulette now found herself. She had barely a second to drink in the sight before the young man swept back in front of her.
"It's so good to have you here... Miss?"
"Fairbringer," she completed for him. "Paulette Fairbringer."
"Wonderful." He smiled, his dark irises performing a quick scan of her face, before he realized his need to supply his own name. "Fortune." He dipped his head. "Fortune Salloway. We are more than pleased to provide you with lodging to wait out the storm. Allow me to show you upstairs."
He offered his arm, and once again Paulette acted without thinking. She basked in her surroundings as she was led straight up a grand staircase, then another and another, until the foyer over the railing seemed leagues below. Yet the ceiling above continued to soar impressively over her head. Her wet shoes sunk into the plush carpeted runners in each hall, lit with dim electric sconces that cast her long shadow on the alabaster paneled walls.
How any of this sumptuous splendor could be found in a house that from the outside appeared all but forsaken, was the marvel that consumed her thoughts before Fortune interrupted them.
He stopped before a pair of double doors at what looked to be the top floor. "I would love to introduce you to my family before you retire."
Paulette nodded. "Of course. It would give me a chance to extend my gratitude to them for allowing me to stay. To you as well, Mr. Salloway."
"Please, just call me Fortune," he corrected. "It's so rare I go by Mr. Salloway that it's rather strange to hear it."
Paulette nodded again, though she could practically hear her mother's voice in her ear telling her how improper it was to call a man she just met by his first name. But if that was his preference, she would not deny it to him, especially not in his own home.
Fortune entered through the doors, Paulette following a few steps behind. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the bright lighting of the room, not being fully accustomed to electricity. Fortune announced her before she could see to whom she was being presented.
"It's my pleasure to introduce our visitor for the evening, Miss Paulette Fairbringer."
He stepped aside, revealing a sitting room that a house of this magnitude likely had dozens of, with the same sweeping ceilings as the rest of the house, a crackling fire the centerpiece of yet another display of regal opulence.
Seated in one of the gilded armchairs sat a silver-haired matron far past her youth, but not so old as to explain her hunched posture. Her black dress flowing around her ankles gave her the appearance of a wilted flower. She struggled to raise her head, a faraway look in her blue eyes.
"Mother," Fortune prompted when she said nothing, motioning once more to the young woman he had just introduced.
"You are very welcome here, my dear," she finally offered, giving a fleeting weak smile. "I do hope you make yourself at home."
"My mother, Lady Salloway," Fortune completed the introduction.
A clinking sound drew their attention to a head peeking over the top of a gold velvet wingback chair facing the fire, the occupant making no effort to acknowledge them.
Fortune cleared his throat and gestured for Paulette to come around with him to the chair's other side, where she came face to face with this other member of the Salloway family. It was not until she had stood before him a good five seconds that he drew his eyes off his glass of whiskey.
Paulette had many times in her life been met with a stern, dour look by her father. So to be looked at in such a way should not be unfamiliar or unsettling. But such a look in the face of this young man, who had not known her all her life, was daunting. This clean-shaven, smartly dressed man somewhere in his thirties with neatly-combed chestnut hair stared at her with fierce hazel eyes; she felt a hold on her that made looking away feel like an absolute impossibility.
"My brother, Locke Salloway," she heard Fortune say from close behind.
No sooner had Fortune finished saying this did his brother's gaze fall to the fire, and Paulette felt the hold on her release. He clinked his ice once more in his glass. "Have you checked on Katronella?"
Paulette's confusion quickly shifted to understanding that this question was not aimed at her, bearing with it the cold fact that she had been entirely ignored.
"Not yet. I was going to return to her shortly," Fortune answered, to which Paulette noticed Lady Salloway draw her hand to her brow. Her wrinkles deepened as a shadow of sorrow crossed her face.
Despite standing so close to the fire, Paulette was surprised to feel little warmth in this room. It seemed she might not be as welcome here as Fortune had implied.
"I'm afraid you've found us on a rather troubling night, Miss Fairbringer," Fortune thankfully explained. "My dear sister Katronella is suffering in the next room from an illness that has plagued her since she was a child. It's likely she will not be with us much longer."
"Goodness," was the only word she could think to say to such horrible news. "I apologize for intruding on this most difficult time for your family."
"You have no reason to be sorry. In fact, it's rare for my sister to have visitors. I believe she would love to meet you. You needn't worry about catching her illness. It cannot be passed to others."
To argue seemed incredibly impolite to this family who was showing her such generosity in allowing her to stay. So, despite her reservations, she let Fortune lead the way. As she neared the double doors of the sitting room, she turned once more to see that Locke had risen from his chair, and had pulled back the curtain to look out what she now realized must be the uppermost window of the house.
The bedroom down the hall held the familiar warm glow of candles. The moment she stepped inside, however, she sensed a presence she had felt only once in her life when sitting at the bedside of her ailing grandmother. Fortune was right. Death was near for his sister. Yet in spite of this, her beauty had in no way diminished, making her look like an angel ready to be ushered into Heaven. Long chestnut curls feathered around her head, and she opened her eyes to reveal clear blue irises reminiscent of a glassy lake. She beamed when she saw her brother and the visitor he had brought.
"Oh, I knew someone would be along," she spoke, her voice terribly hoarse. "I prayed and I prayed."
Paulette frowned at these perplexing remarks before realizing it must be the effects of fever, which the beads of sweat on her forehead told of.
"Don't worry, it won't be much longer," she continued. "I'll try to hurry it along."
Paulette turned to see if Fortune could make any sense of her words, but he avoided her gaze.
"I'll leave you two alone for a moment," he said. "Excuse me." With that, he disappeared into the hall.
A chair was already placed beside the canopied four poster bed and, weighted with compassion for this girl who looked to be her same age, Paulette sat willing to bring whatever comfort she could.
"You're lovely," Katronella whispered.
Paulette humbly dipped her head. "You're very kind."
"But you're sad. What troubles you?"
Paulette smiled at the irony of this dying girl asking about her plights. She had no plans to unleash them onto her. She had enough to bear. Yet seeing the sympathetic concern that furrowed Katronella's brow, she felt her tongue loosen.
"I discovered tonight that the man I love does not love me at all." This verbal acknowledgement of tonight's dreadful revelation ignited something in her that thrust her back to the railway platform, until Katronella reached out her hand and she was returned to the bedroom.
"I gave up every privilege that was mine at birth," she heard herself continue. Perhaps there was some comfort in confiding in someone who did not know her, and who would not carry her secret for long. "My parents disapproved of the match you see, but I had hopes they would change their minds about him once we eloped. I had assured Warren - that is, Mr. McTyler - of this. But when I told him tonight that my parents had denied me my inheritance and disowned me as their daughter, he was the one to alter his decision regarding our marriage.
"And so I'm left with nothing and nobody at all. My parents will never take me back now." She thought it indelicate to make it clear exactly why her parents would want nothing more to do with her. So much shame she had mounted upon the family name. Not only for planning to board a train and run off with a penniless commoner. Being so certain that Warren McTyler loved her and wanted to be her husband, she had not seen it necessary to wait for what was traditionally only acceptable within the confines of marriage.
"Then you must stay," Katronella told her with surprising energy, a smile lighting up her face and eyes. "Make this your home. Take Fortune or Locke for a husband. Though you must promise to never have children. That would simply not do."
Her words left Paulette stunned, but compassion returned to her upon remembering that they were coming from someone whose mind was swirling with fever. She patted Katronella on the hand. "Dear girl, I fear I'm causing you too much excitement. You must return to resting now."
She sat with her just a few more minutes, and soon heard murmuring outside the door. She recognized one of the voices as Fortune's.
"I'm keeping close watch on the time. Don't worry. She's been here less than an hour."
"She's just a girl. We know nothing about her."
Though she had only heard him offer one sentence earlier in the sitting room, Paulette identified this lower, brusquer voice as Locke's.
"What other choice do we have?" returned Fortune. "Don't you see how perfectly tonight has played out? She could see through the window. Can you explain that? It's fated, I tell you."
As Paulette was trying to work out what they were speaking of, Katronella burst into a fit of coughing. The two brothers rushed in, seeing their sister fighting for breath. Paulette stepped aside to allow them to tend to her, and thankfully her coughing soon quelled.
"Have you sent for a doctor?" she inquired, it suddenly striking her as odd that they had not already done so.
"Miss Fairbringer, allow me to show you to your room," Fortune suggested. He placed his hand onto her arm and led her out. She cast one more look at Katronella, seeing Locke wiping her brow with a cloth.
Fortune escorted her a few floors below, bringing her to the door of a guest room before quickly departing to return to his sister. By the time Paulette had emptied the contents of her carpet bag and donned her nightgown, the clock on the bedside table read forty-eight minutes past twelve in the morning.
Weighted down by the goose-feather bedding, she was not sure she had slept at all before the sound of sorrowful wailing had her opening her door, where the sound echoed hauntingly throughout the house's chasms and corridors. She did not need to go back upstairs to investigate. She would only disturb the mourners whose cries stated the obvious. Katronella was gone.
Paulette returned to bed with an even heavier heart than when she first entered this house. The clock now read fourteen past one o'clock. She resolved to leave first thing in the morning to allow the family to grieve alone.
She awoke with a foggy head, heavy eyes, and stiff muscles that were telling of a full night's slumber. Yet when she drew back the curtains, she was met with the same scene as when she had closed them the evening before, complete darkness aside from a faint silhouetted backdrop of trees and the hills beyond. Raindrops still battered the panes. Had she not slept through to the morning after all?
Looking at the clock on the bedside table, it still read fourteen past one o'clock. With a closer look, she saw that the second hand had frozen.
A sudden knock on the door drew her attention from the time. Quickly securing her dressing gown with its tie, she opened it to find Fortune. Though red-eyed and weary-faced, she was surprised to see him give a cordial bow paired with a faint smile.
"Good morning, Miss Fairbringer. Would you care to join me for breakfast?"
So it was indeed morning. Perhaps the clouds from the storm were so thick and black, it simply gave the appearance of still being nighttime.
"I do appreciate the offer, but I had planned to pack my things and be out of your way." She lowered her eyes. "I extend my deepest condolences to your family."
Fortune looked past her with a grave sigh. "Indeed. My family is lost in grief. Yet I hate to see you disappear so soon after your arrival. As strange as it may sound, having a young female presence in the house could actually be a comfort. So please," he reached out and took her hand. "Don't be in any hurry to go. Won't you stay at least a few more days?"
Paulette stared down at the hand he held, knowing very well that although she had planned to leave, there truly was nowhere else she could go. And staying in a magnificent house in the company of a grieving but hospitable family was more favorable than sleeping under a bridge somewhere.
"I suppose, if you truly don't mind. I promise to not be a bother."
Fortune planted a light kiss on her hand. "There is no chance of that, Miss Fairbringer."
Once dressed in one of the three plain day dresses she had packed upon her departure from her parents' estate, Paulette joined Fortune downstairs. Their simple breakfast of eggs and buttered toast looked admittedly out of place in the ostentatious dining room which looked fit to host the king. The other two members of the Salloway family did not make an appearance. Fortune moved to the adjoining music room after breakfast where he poured out a lyrical nocturne on the grand piano, soon looking lost in the music.
Paulette took to exploring the house while he continued to play, and as she swept past room after room, it dawned on her that she had yet to see a single servant. A house of this size would certainly have a staff of dozens. When she stumbled upon a gallery, she was met with a most perplexing sight. Lady Salloway herself had a rag in hand that she was using to dust the gilded portrait frames. Paulette quietly ducked out before she took notice of her.
But this was not the only oddity. The first day passed quickly with the novelty of exploration. Yet she awoke the next day to another morning that did not feel like morning at all. She squinted at the sky through the glass, hoping to see even a dusky grey that gave hope of the sun hiding behind the clouds. But the sky remained an impenetrable black. She had never experienced such a storm in her lifetime. Surely it would not last much longer.
She wandered the halls yet again, this time on the first level where she came upon glass doors leading to a conservatory. Her spirits lifted at the sight of a glorious garden, maintained with meticulous care. The sweet fragrance of violets and lilies flooded her nose. She only wished the conservatory was better lit to see the colors to their best advantage.
She came to a stop when she stumbled upon Locke who was trimming away dead lily blossoms. She sensed the intrusion of his privacy when she saw tears in his eyes, though his face turned stoic and cold at her arrival.
"I do hope this dreadful storm ends soon," she commented, simply attempting to lessen the awkwardness by remarking on the weather.
Locke met her gaze with the same intensity of the night they met, and snapped his pruning shears shut. "Except it never will."
Her chest seized at the words, and her heart was sent racing. She felt compelled to leave the conservatory. Making her exit, she stood in the hall to collect herself. Locke could only be attempting to frighten her, she assured herself. Unlike his brother, he did not seem to like her much at all.
Standing nearby was a grandfather clock she had not noticed earlier, having not paid much mind to the time these past two days. She squinted when she read on its face fourteen past one o'clock, an oddly familiar time, which she quickly recalled was the same time as the frozen clock on her bedside table. And just like that clock, the second hand on the grandfather clock was completely still.
Curious, she decided to seek out the next nearest clock, which she found on the floor above on a side table. Just the same - frozen at fourteen past one o'clock. Heading to the next floor, there was a clock mounted to the wall. Fourteen past one o'clock. She moved quicker, her heart beginning to thud again as she stopped inside various rooms in search of more clocks. Not one was working, and not one read a different time.
She made it to the top floor sitting room, nearly flinging open the doors with her swift entrance.
"Gracious!" Lady Salloway's hand flew to her heart.
The open curtains displayed the same dreary wet scene that had not changed in the slightest since her arrival here.
"Miss Fairbringer?" Fortune rose from the couch. "Is something the matter?"
Paulette stopped in front of the mantelpiece where there sat a crystal clock. Fourteen past one o'clock.
"I would like to know why all the clocks read the same time," she demanded, hearing a quaver in her voice. She pointed towards the windows. "And why does it always feel like night?"
Paulette noted that Fortune and Lady Salloway's faces did not bear any shock, and rather they exchanged a long, knowing look. Fortune gave a nod.
"Come sit, Miss Fairbringer," he suggested, pointing to the armchair nearest him.
She chose instead a spot on the far side of the couch, slowly sinking onto it.
"You do require an explanation, and I apologize for any secrecy on our part. But if you had been told our secret when you first arrived here, you never would have believed it, and it would have made you fearful of us. However, now that you have come to know us better and see that we mean you no harm, I will tell you bluntly. This house, Breckworth Manor, is under a curse which has frozen our house in time, making it eternally night. For three years, the occupants of this house have not seen the light of day."
His words fell upon the ears of someone who was never allowed to indulge in fantasies or flights of imagination, being told by her parents they were frivolous. So to hear such a preposterous thing almost made her laugh. But Fortune's face portrayed perfect seriousness.
"For us it is not so much a curse, but a blessing," he went on. "Our family has suffered such pain in recent years, even more so now with the loss of Katronella, that hiding from the world provides us with great solace. When my family saw you standing outside in the rain, we sensed you also needed sanctuary not only from the storm, but from this deeply cruel world. Katronella mentioned before she left us the terrible loss you have suffered. And it is our great hope that you can find the same escape from your troubles here that we have."
A myriad of questions swirled in Paulette's mind, and fears took shape. Either she was dreaming, she was mad, or Fortune was telling the truth. She could not yet discern which. "Am I a prisoner?" she wondered aloud.
"I hope you never feel that way. My family has every intention of making this a lovely home for you. I encourage you to view this house as a safe haven as we do. If, however, after some time has passed and you are truly unhappy here, perhaps the curse would permit you to leave."
A sound drew their heads to the door where Locke stood and had perhaps overheard the discussion. Everyone in the Salloway family remained silent while Paulette tried to absorb the impossible information she had just been told.
A glass of whiskey was soon presented to her by none other than Locke, and as she sipped away at it, she realized she could do what perhaps any sane person should do. She could demand more explanation and answers regarding this supposed curse. She could fight back against these people who were, in truth, her captors. She could try to make an escape.
But as she looked around at the Salloways who sat with her near the crackling fire, Fortune taking up a book, Lady Salloway working on her needlepoint, and Locke sipping on his own glass of whiskey, she realized something else. That if she were to be trapped anywhere, there were far worse places than this. At least these were people who, unlike everyone else in the world, did not wish to turn her out of their lives.
Maybe it was folly to stay here. Or maybe it was providential. Only time would tell.
In the week that followed, the endless night continued to prove rather unnerving. But as more time passed, Paulette soon found that comfort Fortune had spoken of in knowing that morning would never arrive, that she would never have to face the reality of her situation in life. No one in the family had asked her to share her story, for which she was thankful. Maybe Katronella had told them enough.
As to their situation and why this affluent family chose to stay in a house frozen in time, Paulette allowed them to keep that to themselves as well. In that way they could all pretend that the past had never happened. Maybe one day she would forget her former existence as an unloved daughter, jilted lover, and society reject.
Most days Fortune was her companion, whom she learned was two years her junior. They whiled away their time playing duets on the piano or discussing the classics in one of the house's two vast libraries. Some days she would help Lady Salloway polish the silver or do the washing, or the whole family would make some attempt at creating an edible meal in the kitchen. The absence of servants was an adjustment along with everything else.
Locke was one that Paulette rarely saw, but always knew where to find. She soon realized he did not mind her presence in the conservatory, so long as she kept quiet and allowed him to work. She sometimes watched from afar, admiring the delicate care he employed while tending to the flowers. On one such occasion, she realized she had drawn closer without realizing.
"How do they thrive without the sun?" she asked.
"They don't," he answered. "Lilies and violets thankfully require little sun, so I have to make do with heated water and lamps. Still, many don't end up surviving. This garden would be far more impressive if the flowers had sunlight."
"I still think it's lovely," she said.
"You should have seen it years ago. The garden outside the house was one of the finest gardens in England. My father and I spent hours perfecting it with the help of the groundskeepers."
Paulette could not help but notice the complete brightening of his face, his eyes, and even his voice at the mention of the past, which she had purposed to never speak or even think of. It seemed not everyone in the house lived by this unspoken rule. It had not occurred to her that some people did not wish to leave their pasts completely behind.
The short conversations between her and Locke lengthened each day, mostly about flowers or gardening methods. Yet they always seemed to divert to memories he would share, such as descriptions of the gardens he had seen in his lifetime, which were so vivid Paulette could imagine herself walking through them. She could not help the surge of longing they sent through her - to the point that, when she would awaken from sleep and find yet another gloomy night on the other side of the curtains, she began to feel a lingering disappointment.
Once, when Locke was telling her of tropical flowers abroad, she heard the words escape her mouth, "Do you miss it?"
He frowned. "Miss what?"
"The day."
He said nothing at first and returned to watering the flowers. "I miss the warm gentle breeze in summer. And the buzzing of bees."
His descriptions once again ignited her imagination and sent her somewhere beautiful. "And the bubbling of the water fountains. Or the fresh scent of grass."
This went on for several minutes, leaving them with smiles that faded quickly.
"I miss the roar of the ocean, holding my father's hand as we searched for seashells." She stopped, realizing she was recalling the single pleasant memory she had of her father. It was the one and only time she had felt loved by one of her parents. And ever since feeling that love, she had chased it, hoping to one day find it again somewhere in some form. And she finally thought that she had, that she was entering a new era of her life as Mrs. Warren McTyler.
The sound of the raindrops on the glass conservatory ceiling now sounded too similar to the ones falling on the cover of the railway platform. How quickly her happy memory had shifted to one entirely the opposite.
Just an hour ago she had been singing a jolly tune with Fortune at the piano, and such dreary thoughts were nowhere on her mind. Now with this other Salloway brother, she had opened up a part of her she thought she wanted to keep sealed shut forever. But even though time had stopped in this house, it was becoming clear that her pain had not.
Her daily routine began to look much different, spending most of her time in her room with the curtains closed. The sight of the endless night was becoming intolerable. Whenever she did leave her room, it was to see Locke in the conservatory to hear more of his marvelous stories involving all those things one could only find in the daytime. Thoughts of leaving this house came to her more and more, yet were always followed by the fear of knowing that the world outside was a world where she would be only scorned, humiliated, and despised.
She never joined the family for dinner now, for she rarely had an appetite. At first she simply had no desire to eat, but then came a stomach upset that refused to abate. Even the broth that Fortune would bring to her room would end up being vomited back up in the water closet.
Typically a healthy young woman, these fierce bouts of nausea that left her pale and unable to leave bed made her worried she would face an early death like Katronella. That is, until one day she decided to try venturing to the conservatory, and as she was getting dressed, the stays of her corset felt especially constraining. She sat on the bed, the shallow breaths she was forced to take making her lightheaded.
There was a knock at the door. "Paulette? Are you still unwell?"
Not fully dressed, she was about to call out that she was indisposed when Locke stepped in. It was not until he saw her sitting on the bed holding her belly, his face taking on a look of alarmed realization, that it occurred to Paulette herself.
There was no way she could have gained weight by hardly eating a thing. And her monthly visitor, though never very regular since her adolescence, had not arrived since being in this house. She had not imagined her circumstances could get any more dire. But now, would even the Salloways want to associate with her once they learned this shameful news - that she was pregnant with her former lover's child?
She sat in the upstairs sitting room an hour later as the Salloways discussed this very matter. The whole family appeared shocked and even disturbed by what she told them, but not for reasons she had thought. In fact, it was unclear the exact reason that their eyes shifted around, Lady Salloway wrung her hands, and she saw Fortune get a drink for the first time. There was no disgust or judgement shown by any of them, but a very palpable tension. Locke showed the most composure. He sat beside Paulette, taking her hand, and offering words of comfort whenever she showed any signs of distress.
She too was still trying to grasp the fact that there was a child growing inside her body, a child who was part her and part the man she was hoping she would never again have to be reminded of. How could she look at her child, if it was Warren's eyes that stared back at her? She finally excused herself to her room where she could be alone.
She did not stay there for long. After unsuccessfully attempting to sleep, she found that an aimless walk throughout the house helped to keep her mind from dwelling on unpleasant thoughts. Walking the length of a dark hall in her nightclothes, she noticed light seeping under the door of a study. She pressed her ear to the door, and was met with the startling sound of raised voices. She could not make out any words through the thick polished mahogany, and was worried the door would make a sound if she opened it to hear better.
She soon gave up and continued down the hall. She was thankful she did, for the study door suddenly flew open, causing her to dash around a corner. A blustery Locke exited, slamming the door behind him and storming down the hall. From inside, she could now hear a woman loudly sobbing, which could only be Lady Salloway. Fortune exited a moment later, fuming.
Concealed in the shadows, Paulette went unnoticed. All this excitement prickled her nerves, and sent her mind into a spiral of concern that it was she who was the subject of their dispute. Perhaps they were determining whether or not to throw her out onto the street. She drew her hand over her belly, unsure anymore if leaving this house was an option she would welcome. If the world was not accepting of unmarried mothers, it certainly would not be accepting of her bastard child.
Knowing that sleep would not be possible with these thoughts bearing on her mind, she wandered to the top floor, finding the sitting room dark and empty. She stood at length by the window, gazing out at the forever unchanging view, and the very road she had stood the night of her arrival, a night which had not ended since.
Drowsiness finally overcame her, leading her back to the hall where she noticed the door of Katronella's room, always closed, was slightly cracked open. She found the stairs, her hand just about to touch the railing, when a strong force from behind suddenly thrust against her back.
She was hurled forward, flailing mid-air before crashing onto the hard unforgiving stair corners and tumbling down the remaining steps. Her consciousness threatened to give way, but when the stars before her eyes cleared, screams of pain sprang up in her throat, intensified by the horror that she might not be the only one affected by the fall. Her hands cradled her stomach.
Within seconds she heard footsteps pounding, quickly drawing closer, then gasps when the three Salloway family members found her at the bottom of the stairs. All three rushed to her, fussing and putting hands on her.
"She fell down the whole flight. It's a miracle she's alive!" Fortune cried.
Paulette blinked, still bleary. But some sense returned to her. "I did not fall. No, I was pushed. I'm certain that I was!"
The immediate flash of Locke's eyes onto Fortune's face did not escape her notice.
"Why do you look at me, brother?" came Fortune's response.
Suddenly her body was being gathered up into Locke's warm, sturdy arms. "I'm taking her to my room, where she'll be safe."
"You think it was me? But why would I do such a thing? Miss Fairbringer is my dear friend. Perhaps it was you!"
Paulette did not know what to make of these flying accusations. She could not conceive that any of them were capable of such a dastardly deed as murder. She would have sooner accused a ghost.
Her eyes landed on Lady Salloway, who did not accuse Fortune, but who also said nothing in his defense. Instead she averted her eyes like she could not stand to look at him, crumpling into a shaking, sobbing heap.
"We both know what you're capable of," Locke said. "It's time she knows everything, and I'll be the one to tell her."
Fortune could be heard shouting after them all the way to the door of Locke's room. With all the commotion, Paulette almost forgot her injuries. No blood ran down her legs to indicate a miscarriage. Locke snugly tucked her into his own bed and pulled up a chair beside her, taking her hand.
Although he was taking such gentle care of her, like one of his violets, Paulette could not feel much safety or security after someone in this house had attempted to end her life.
"I see the fear in your eyes. There is much to explain," said Locke. "I was against you coming into this house from the beginning, out of fear that something like this could happen."
"Fear that your brother would try to kill me?" she interjected, the thought still mystifying to her. She had developed a real brotherly affection for Fortune. Had he carried these evil intentions all along?
"No. Fear that this disgusting illusion my family has constructed would all fall apart. I knew it could not last forever. You see, it was not you that Fortune sought to kill, but the child you carry inside you."
Paulette's hands covered her stomach. "I don't understand. Because I'm unmarried?"
He shook his head. "If your child is born, the night that surrounds this house will finally see its end. There must only ever be four."
This last sentence he said like some rote phrase he had repeated many times, but it of course held no meaning for Paulette. He continued.
"There is a reason we hide in the night, Paulette. The world continues around this house, with no memory of those who live inside. But if the night ever ends, my family and our crimes will be remembered by all, and we'll be forced to pay the price for them.
"The Salloway name was once known throughout all of England. We were viewed almost as royalty, with Breckworth Manor our renowned palace. My father, Earl Salloway, though rich, was a generous and benevolent soul. So much so that when our neighbor, Viscount DeBaun, my father's close friend, requested a loan that he promised to repay the very next day, my father agreed without question. He did not so much as draft a written agreement. It was his trusting nature that led to my family's fall from grace. My father had no knowledge that our neighbor had a crippling gambling problem. Instead of paying my father back, he gambled away our family's money that very night.
"For weeks, society was unaware that only a small fraction of our family fortune remained. And in those weeks, my father piled blame upon himself for bringing our family so low. But there was nothing that could be done. The law could do nothing without any documentation to prove that such a loan had existed. The shame of it led my father to take his own life.
"In my rage and anguish, I regrettably told Fortune that Viscount DeBaun should die for his crimes. I had no idea that my little brother would take me so seriously. One stormy night, he shook me awake. Blood stained his hands and clothes. He dragged me to our neighbor's house where he showed me the body of Viscount DeBaun whose life he had taken with my father's pistol. I was in such a state of shock and desperation that I tried to help him stage the murder as a suicide, only to be caught by the viscount's daughter.
"Together we raced back to Breckworth Manor, certain that the daughter had seen us and recognized us. Constables would surely be at our door by morning. After learning what we had done, Katronella and my mother were inconsolable. They could not stand the thought of us being sent to prison, or possibly hanged for murder, so soon after losing Father. And that was when my brother proposed such a radical idea, we were certain he had gone completely mad.
"Back in boarding school, Fortune apparently had a friend with a deep knowledge of witchcraft. He shared all his knowledge with my brother and taught him his ways. It sounded like utter lunacy to me. However, Fortune told us he had successfully cast some simple enchantments in boarding school, and could now attempt one that could save us from our current peril - an enchantment that would keep us hidden and forgotten by the world, free to live and grow old peacefully in the confines of this house with a food supply that would never run dry. My mother and Katronella were willing to try anything to keep us safe and together as a family. And to my sheer disbelief, it worked.
"For two years our clocks were frozen at around half past eleven. It was not until a wandering vagrant broke into our house one night that we realized the enchantment had a major flaw. The moment this man stepped into the house, the clocks began to turn. It took half an hour for us to find where he was inside before we forcibly turned him out."
Paulette pondered this, beginning to find clarity in the murky waters surrounding this family. The clocks had been moving when she arrived at this house. It was not until Katronella's death that they had frozen again. "There must only ever be four..." she repeated.
"Precisely. The house must remain at four occupants in order for the enchantment to stay in effect. No more and no less. Perhaps if someone more versed in magic had performed the enchantment, such a grave error could have been avoided. My brother has not attempted any magic since for fear of adding further defects to the enchantment. But now you can see the problem that will arise when you give birth. It seems the enchantment has not recognized your child as another occupant of the house with it being inside your womb, but once it's born..."
"I understand," said Paulette solemnly.
"It was never my desire to hold anyone prisoner here. We sought only to keep the enchantment in place when we brought you into our home. I feel such shame for involving you. But I had to protect my family. I'm truly the one to blame. Had I not said such a rash and foolish thing about killing Viscount DeBaun, my brother would never have committed such an act. We might have been poor without our family's wealth, but at least we could have been free."
At the mention of this word, free, a sudden flash of hope sparked in Paulette. "But you still can," she told him. "You can leave this house right now."
He looked at her like she had just spoken the impossible.
"You blame yourself for the death of the viscount, but you were not the one who killed him. Fortune is guilty, not you. There's no reason for you to stay here to protect him."
"I could not do that to my brother, abandoning him to face punishment alone."
"He made a choice," she insisted, "as we all must do in our lives. He made the wrong one. And like all of us, he must live with the consequences."
"Except I'm not viewed as innocent, Paulette. The viscount's daughter saw my face and thinks I was involved in the murder."
"But you have not yet been charged. You could escape to another country and vanish before you're accused of a crime you did not commit. You could start a new life somewhere, perhaps one of the many beautiful places you've told me about."
"And what about you?" he inquired. "I suppose in a new country, you would be unknown, your reputation untarnished."
Paulette did not feel bold enough to speak aloud the full extent of her plan, but she sensed that Locke understood what she was implying. Yes, she could start anew. Her child could have a chance at a life with a man who was not his father, but who could claim him as his own. Perhaps even loving the child's mother, and seeking her hand in marriage.
Before this could be discussed any further, there was a rap at the door. Her body tensed, and she snatched Locke's hand. "Whatever you decide, I intend to leave this house. I will not let that man try to harm my child again."
Locke gave her a long look before heading to the door. He allowed Fortune to enter, but made sure to block him from taking more than a few steps.
"She knows everything now, Fortune," Locke stopped him before he could speak. "She desires to leave this house, and I believe we should let her."
Fortune's dark eyes flashed over to Paulette.
"As much as I love you, brother," Locke continued, "I think it's time we acknowledge that this night needs to finally reach its end."
A quiet rattle drew all their eyes to the door where Lady Salloway appeared, bearing a tray of tea things. She strode inside, straight-backed and without so much as a hobble.
"Let us not rush matters, Locke," she told her son in an almost scolding way. "There is still much time before the child is born. I think we should calm ourselves, and perhaps then we can think more rationally."
Tea trickled out of the pot, and she passed cups and saucers around.
"I've quite made my decision," Paulette informed her.
"I understand. But as an expecting mother, I think you can understand my desire to not see harm come to my sons. So let us spend more time considering possible options." She passed her a cup with an affectionate smile.
Paulette's eyes shifted when she saw that Locke had raised his teacup to his mouth, but was not drinking. Instead, he brought it closer to his nose where he circled it beneath his nostrils.
"What in heaven's name -" Lady Salloway cried when Locke suddenly rushed forward, nearly pushing his mother out of the way. He reached Paulette and pried her teacup from her grasp before tossing it against the wall.
"Unfortunately you did not disguise the herbs in your tea well enough, Mother," he told her, a fire in his voice. "Then of course, Paulette would not have noticed had I not. You forgot that I am versed in the effects of these herbs as well. And I know that had she drunk it, a miscarriage would have likely taken place within hours."
Once again, Paulette felt the same panicked fear that had seized her earlier when she found herself at the bottom of the stairs.
"Mother..." Fortune breathed, his voice tinged with disbelief. She felt the condemnation she had formed against Fortune begin to shift to the proper culprit.
"I do not deny it," was Lady Salloway's unwavering response to the accusation. "How could I let this girl's illicit offspring destroy what has shielded our family from the wrath we will face if morning ever shines upon this house? I was willing to do whatever it took to make certain that wretched child did not take away from me the only ones I have left in this world."
At this her formidable countenance broke, and she descended into weeping.
Locke looked down upon his pitiable mother. "If such acts are what it takes for an enchantment to remain in place, Mother, it is not worth continuing."
"But what about us, Locke?" Fortune cut in. "Are you really prepared for what will become of you and me? We'll rot in prison or be hanged. Mother will be destitute and alone. And what of Paulette? Do you know the trials she will face with a child and no husband?"
Lady Salloway's weeping grew ever louder.
Locke, forgoing his former hostility towards Fortune, went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Brother, you are dear to me. For years I have carried the guilt of feeling I forced your hand into killing the viscount. To protect you, I was willing to stay in this house until my old age. But since this option is no longer available to us, I must ask that you let me go. For the truth is that it was not the both of us who committed the crime for which we must stay hidden, but you alone."
Fortune's eyes widened with the sort of shock that made it clear he had never expected such words from his loyal, protective older brother. Following the shock came a wash of fear like Locke had just pushed him out onto a precipice and asked him to jump.
"You said it was fate the night Paulette found us," said Locke. "It did seem most fortuitous how she arrived the very night of Katronella's death. You said when you created the enchantment that to those on the outside, the house should appear abandoned and desolate. Yet she was able to see through the window. And she saw me. I believe now that it was fate that she came here, but not to preserve the enchantment. Rather, to show us that staying hidden in the dark only creates an even greater darkness inside ourselves."
Fortune's eyes looked everywhere but his brother's face, his mind surely busy envisioning what his future would be if he granted Locke's request. The sound of his mother's howling could not have made making such a decision easy.
With every second that passed, Paulette began to lose hope that Fortune would give in. His fear had stripped away his usual confident air, replacing it with a childlike vulnerability. It came as a great surprise then when he quietly uttered some words beneath his breath that made Paulette sit up in bed, worried she had only imagined them.
"You may go. Both of you."
"Fortune, no!" screamed Lady Salloway.
But Paulette hardly heard her anymore. After embracing his brother, Locke's eyes focused on her and her alone, coming to her and helping her from bed. Finding that she could walk, he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. The flicker of hope within her earlier now ignited to a full blaze as he rushed her out of the room without looking back.
The screams of his mother must have pierced Locke's tender heart, knowing he would never see her again. Yet his grip on Paulette's hand felt so certain and sure, that she held no fear he would change his mind.
When the great double doors of the foyer stood before them, it was he who reached out his hand to open them, displaying the ever-enduring torrent of rainfall from the cloudy night sky. They descended the steps of the house, and Paulette experienced that same strange sensation of passing through an invisible curtain as when she had arrived at the house; now, she knew it to be the boundaries of the enchantment.
It took only a few miles of running through sodden fields for the rain to turn to a drizzle, a mist, and then, a clear night of stars. Before long, they would behold together that great star that gave life to all the earth, which would be known by them once again.
And Paulette would know the sun for many years to come, overseeing her husband in the garden of their Caribbean abode, bouncing her little boy on her hip. She kissed the boy's head without a single thought of his real father, whom she strangely no longer remembered. It was not by choice that she had forgotten him, or that Locke seemed to have lost all memory of his brother, Fortune.
The only force that could be strong enough to make them forget such key figures in their lives was an enchantment, the one that surrounded Breckworth Manor, which caused the world to forget those who lived inside.
Unbeknownst to Locke and Paulette, the night of their departure, Fortune had opened the doors of the house only an hour later to find a young man and a striking older woman on his arm, her expensive furs sodden with rain. They explained that their car was stuck in the mud.
"I was not expecting anyone to be living here," said the young man. "I only sought shelter for my new bride. This spring storm caught us by complete surprise!"
Fortune's mother was still in hysterics faraway upstairs, having only grown worse after seeing the clocks had begun to turn again. Every tick of the clock this past hour was like a needle prick in Fortune's skin, making him wish he could now turn back time and not have allowed his brother to leave.
Now, his eyes scanned this different couple, taking note that the older woman looked past her child-bearing years.
"This is a magnificent house," the young man commented.
Fortune bowed. "I thank you. You are most welcome to stay the night. My name is Fortune. Fortune Salloway." He smiled at them, memorizing the faces of these people with whom he would become very familiar.
"How generous of you! We'll be out of your way by morning. My name is Warren. Mr. Warren McTyler."
Leading them up the stairs, Fortune stole a peek at his pocket watch. The second hand stood still. And this time, he would do everything in his power to make sure it never moved again.
ReplyDeleteWhat a fun period story, from perhaps a century ago, prior to the windspread incidence of electricity. When the story began, the author used a dubious phrase, "...this black, stormy night..." to describe inclement weather, and I had to smile. It reminded me of the old literary saw, "it was a dark and story night." But the remainder of the story was devoid of the fatuous. It was a good read, with quaint terms used: "reticule" for purse and "...her monthly visitor" for menstrual cycle. With the ending, we come, ironically, full circle, with Paulette's former lover newly trapped in the enchanted home and with Paulette left to blossom with her child and new husband. Well done, Kelsie!
Bill Tope
I really enjoyed your story, Kelsie! Loved the period details, the cursed manor, with its frozen clocks, and the satisfying ending!
ReplyDelete