Chapter Six #3
After giving Rafe a thorough perusal, the woman practically swooned. “You certainly are dashing and fashionable—and handsome.” She jerked back and blinked as if she had remembered herself. “Forgive me. I have intruded on you enough. Er, do you require anything, sir?”
“No, thank you. I’ll amuse myself a bit longer before joining the festivities. On second thought, there is one thing.”
“Yes?” she asked eagerly.
“Do you know the former owners of this house—the Jewells?”
She looked taken aback. “Er, I’m afraid not.”
“Ah. Indeed. I thought I heard a rather convincing tragedy about them. And you mentioned a ...ghost?”
The housekeeper looked around and lowered her voice to a conspiring tone. “This house is haunted—especially this very room.”
Rafe lifted his brows. “Truly?”
“Every year on All Hallows’ Eve, one can hear the pianoforte playing—even though the room is empty.”
“A musical ghost?” Rafe sounded amused.
“People say they have also seen a phantom of a young woman floating about the house, the grounds, and gliding through the hothouse. Others have said they’ve seen her in the nearby hills.”
“How curious,” Osanne said. “I thought no one besides you had ever seen me.”
“Interesting,” Rafe said to them both.
The housekeeper curtsied. “I should return to my duties. Good evening, sir.” She left, closing the door behind herself.
Staring at the door, Rafe mused, “That housekeeper had the most unusual shade of hair.”
“Did she?” Osanne asked.
“Do you not think so?”
“I cannot say. I do not see colors anymore.”
“No colors?” He tilted his head.
“None. I see light and shadow, but no color at all.”
He frowned. “How dreary. I cannot imagine a world of gray.”
“At least I can hear music.”
Even colorless, Rafe remained the most handsome man of her acquaintance.
During their return stroll to Madding Hollow, a wind gusted, blowing Rafe’s hair and shaking the branches of the bare trees. Rafe put his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat and bent his head against the chill.
“Did you finish your quest?” Osanne asked him.
“My quest?”
“To visit all your former comrades-at-arms.”
His mouth turned up at the corners. “I hadn’t thought of it in such noble terms as a quest, but to answer your question, I visited several this past year. I’ve not yet paid a visit to all of them. It may take me some time.”
“Do you enjoy traveling about the countryside?”
“I thought it appropriate to see more of the country I fought so hard to protect from Napoleon.” He turned pensive and his footsteps slowed. “It’s also good to have a bit of solitude, and to escape certain demands.”
“What demands, may I ask?”
“My family are trying too hard to make me feel welcome—there’s never a moment’s peace.
And my mother wishes to match me with any number of her friends’ daughters, so there is an endless parade of giggling ingenues barely out of the schoolroom.
And then the not-so-subtle nudges toward Ben’s sister, Kitty. ”
“Family expectations can be difficult to meet.”
Walking slowly, they talked of many things; shared hopes and dreams, childhood memories, ruins Rafe had explored, even favorite songs. They reached the main road where the celebrations had wound down in favor of people gathering around firelight to tell ghost stories.
At one tiny cottage, Mrs. Larkin stood on her doorstep holding candles and peering out into the darkness. “John. Frank. If you’re here, I want you to know that I miss you and I love you. And I forgive you.” She choked and a tear slid down her cheek.
Osanne looked around. The Larkin boys hovered nearby, staring at their mother, more quiet and sober than Osanne had ever seen them.
To her knowledge, her own parents had never called to her. They simply left and turned the house over to strangers.
As he continued walking, Rafe sighed softly, his expression turning mournful.
“What is it?” Osanne asked.
“It’s almost sunrise.”
He was right. Faint light spread over the land, dissipating shadows. How quickly the night had flown!
He reached for her but as last time, his hand went through her. “If only I could touch you....”
She gave him a sad smile. “Thank you again, for a wonderful night. Coming here to be with me was a great gift.”
He twisted his mouth into a mixture of grimace and smile. “I couldn’t stay away—and not merely to satisfy myself that I hadn’t imagined or dreamt you.”
She gave him her cheeriest smile. It might very well be her last, and she wanted his final memory of her to be a sweet one. “Be well, Rafe. I’ll never forget you.”
“Sleep well, Osanne.”
They reached for each other at the same time. Their hands passed through each other. Still, they held that position, imagining what it would be like to really touch.
That familiar column of light opened up between her and the sober Larkin boys. An invisible pull tugged on her. Unresisting, John and Frank glided towards the light. The instant they reached the column of light, they vanished into nothingness.
Nothing!
Osanne let out a strangled scream as terror closed in over her.
“What is it?” Rafe asked, wide-eyed and grasping for her as she began to float upwards.
“The Larkins are gone!”
Her vision distorted until everything became a watery reflection.
“Osanne?”
All the landscape, and Rafe, darkened. She fell once more into dreamless rest.