Soliloquy

It was cold the next morning as I stepped into the carriage. There was no fog, but the ground seemed to be misting. Everything was hued in a blue grey and had a sort of magical feel to it. I was wrapped in furs when I entered the carriage, all by myself. It was early, the time that Isaac Ewanthorpe said that he was usually at the parish, but Lily and Charles hadn't been up yet. I'd left a message with Jeanette for when they did wake, but left swiftly to avoid any interractions with them.

I had not been able to visit Alphonse the night prior and had almost been caught. I'd attempted to sneak out of my room with a candle, but had seen the library lamps were still burning bright. When I'd looked in, I'd seen Lily in the library, staring distantly into the fire, a book in her lap. I had swept past her carefully, gone to the kitchen, taken some water and looked at the North Wing sadly as I passed by it on my way back to my room. It was off-limits, though, and I would not risk being discovered by Lily. I would not let her send me away. Not when I was Alphonse's only happiness. Not when I had a job to do, not when I had secrets to discover. I would not, could not leave now.

So I'd gone back to bed and let sleep wash over me. I could not remember my dreams now, but I'd had them. No, no, that was a lie. I could remember a moon from my dream. A blood red moon...and screaming. But I pushed that out of my head for now. I'd have much more time to think about it, today. For now I just looked out the carriage window as we took down a path I'd never seen before. It was away from the road leading to Huntsville, and away from the road leading to Criewulf Estate. Mr. Ewanthorpe - Isaac - had been to a few events I'd been to, I barely remembered seeing him one at one of the Morgenstern's parties. I'd just not been introduced. I wondered where he lived, but then I realized I truly did not care.

My excuse to leave quickly was that I had come down with quite the megrim but had wanted to see him so I'd have a chance to bring the journal back. The plan sounded fairly decent in my head, but I didn't hold my breath.

The parish looked peaceful and quaint as we pulled up. I noticed that Isaac was standing outside in his aprentice robes, looking quite squinty. I sighed to myself. It was my fault he was suddenly so enamored with me. But he'd think me queer if I'd just wanted to see the journal, for no apparant particular reason. So I forced myself to smile as the driver led me down from the carriage. I went to Isaac and let him kiss my hand chastely. "I'm sorry, Isaac, but I must confess I cannot stay too long." My voice betrayed my feelings, I knew.

Isaac looked dissapointed. "Why must you go quickly?" he questioned. He put his elbow out and I took it. He led me into the parish, which was quiet and neat. There had been only a few times I'd been inside a church at all, and I'd never actually been to a country parish, although I'd heard of their charm by friends and neighbors who kept houses in the Lakes district and escaped from London to the country. My family did not have a house in London, but my father told me how we'd once had a chateau in France. That, however, had been destroyed in the Revolution, because the people in town had believed it to belong to a French aristocrat. My father was quite angry and had never been to France since. I'd never been to the Continent myself, but hoped to travel there, someday.

Bringing myself back to reality, I sighed and sounded as dramatic as I could. "I have developed quite a megrim. But you see," and here, I leaned in to Isaac and tried to sound as seductive as I could, "I wanted to get the journal so I would have an excuse to come back when I was feeling better. So we could talk," I told him with a wink.

Isaac did his best to supress his quite dopey, in my opinion, smile. I should not be so hard on him, though. He would make any young woman happy. Just not me.

Of course, neither could Prince. So that left me with no options. Who would I marry, if I refused to marry Robert Townshend, Prince Morgenstern, or someone like Isaac Ewanthorpe? With a blush, I knew, and willed that thought away. There was no way there could be anything more than friendship between us. He was guant, thin and pale. But there was no denying the certain sort of happiness that bubbled in my stomach when I thought of his beautiful dark eyes...

Oh. No, I'd just thought of Alphonse's eyes as beautiful. Oh dear. This wasn't good, not at all. "Oh, my," said Isaac, "you do look quite pale."

I nodded with a strained smile, now trying to get Alphonse's smiling face out of my mind. Isaac and I quickened our pace and found the archives directly behind the parishoner's office. As he shuffled through the shelves, Isaac prattled on about how much fun he'd had yesterday and how much he loved his aprenticeship and how he thought he could become quite an influential member of the clergy someday, with his gentlemen's upbringing. He talked about how comfortable a living he figured he'd be able to afford...I interjected my 'Mmhmm's and 'Oh's accordingly.

When he returned with a small black leather journal, he winked. "Here it is. Now don't spend too long reading it," he told me. I held back the urge to roll my eyes and smiled. We exited the parish in silence, and I put my hand to my head for added effect. I knew if my mother were here, she'd be looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I never was able to get past her scathing looks. I'd never been able to lie my way out of situations. However, Isaac was not my mother, nor was he as perceptive as her.

I left the parish quickly with a fond wave. Isaac looked sad as I left but smiled when I waved. The sky was beginning to become yellow, and I opened the journal quickly to the first page. It was very old and very yellow. The date was somewhere in the fifteen hundreds, but the last two numbers had faded. I made out the writing the best I could.

Upon riding by the newly dubbed Deathcreeke Manor, something quite frightening happened to me. As I approached, I heard a terrible scream, and all of a sudden, the entire moor was bathed in an unholy red light. Looking to the sky, I saw that the moon was very full, very large and blood red.

I wavered between staying to see what would happen and wanting to take my horse as fast as I could from the terrible place. More screams followed the first, and there were bright lights coming from Deathcreeke's windows. I urged my hose onward and galloped quickly away. However, as soon as I was out of hearing distance of Deathcreeke, I noticed that the moon was once again quite pale. It was as if there was some strange spell cast around Deatchreeke.

My heart wishes to tell someone about this...as I believe that the family was holding some kind of sabbath for witches. As I do fear for my own life, though, I would not tell a soul. I merely write down what I have seen here...

The words were anonymous, but sent a chill down my spine. I turned the next page. It was dated 1658 and for some strange reason, I remembed my first day at Deathcreeke. "Roger Wainwright. Born 1640, died 1658. He was very handsome, I dare say." Those were Mrs. Cross's words to me when I'd seen the strange, sick picture of Roger Wainwright that first morning...

The words before me have now become common knowledge throughout the region, although no one speaks of this book to the family Morgenstern. At first, I believed it was some kind of ghostly joke, sent out to put ill thoughts into our minds of our beloved Wainwrights. How could a family of such beauty, intelligence and kindness be anything but good? But now I know the truth, the awful truth. Unlike my predecessor, I was simply passing through the area that Deathcreeke abucts, when I heard a terrible scream. Thinking it was a young child trapped somewhere, I ran in the direction of the sound. When I got closer, I saw Deathcreeke Manor, in the middle of the clear moor and panic started to arise. I remembered the words before me.

With another scream, I saw as the entire moor became red and fear shot through my body. The moon had become red - a Blood Moon. From outside the house, I could hear a terrifying scream. There were also other noises...whispers, grunts, voices. There was a bright light from behind the manor, but my body was petrified. I could not go towards the house.

Finally, when I found my footing again, I ran as fast as I could away from Deathcreeke. I have not been there, or anywhere near that area since. I hope that whomever reads this journal understands that this is no hoax.

We were almost to Deathcreeke, but I flipped another page. This one was dated 1731. I realized that the dates, at least from 1658 to 1731, was a little more than seventy years. Seventy years...that was enough for three generations of Wainwrights. This Blood Moon must have something to do with the curse of the Wainwright's. With a deep breath, I read on.

O, the horrors I have seen!

The entire town speaks of this book as if it is the scandal of the century. I daren't write my name, I would not want anyone to know who is writing. But I must say this, if you are reading, do not go near Deathcreeke Manor! It is a place of unspeakable evil! I was starting on my way home in the dark when all of a sudden, I saw a great light ahead of me. I wondered if it could be a forest fire, but this light was silvery-pale, like the light of the moon, not like the light of fire. I went forward to investigate, and suddenly, the enitre road was bathed in blood red. I knew that I had encounted the Blood Moon of the Wainwright's.

I heard the same screams of terror as the two entries before me. Woe to the person who is trapped inside of that hell! I am too afraid of crying witch...and I know the rest of this community is as well. The Wainwright's are such kind people, but O God! What have they done?

That questioned lingered with me for a long time after. I crept in to Deathcreeke and ventured upstairs to hide the journal. There were no more entries after 1699, so I knew that the last Wainwright to die, the last Blood Moon, had not been witnessed by anyone. But when I came back down the grand staircase, I felt like the entire place was very empty. Where was the bustle of the day earlier? I knew it was only nine in the morning, but it had been close to this time yesterday when I'd awoken. I ventured into the dining hall. It was empty, save for a footman setting out a basket of fruit. I cleared my mouth and he turned to me, bowing. "Excuse me, sir," I addressed him politely, "would you happen to know where...everyone is?" I questioned.

"I believe that Master Wainwright has given most of the staff the day off. He and the Mistress have gone to order the decor for the masquerade next week." His words were crisp and short. A strange lightness passed through me. I must have looked surprised. "Yes, I believe they won't be back until sometime this afternoon," he told me. I bobbed my head to him.

"Thank you for the information," I replied. He smiled stiffly and went back to arranging the fruit. I eyed it carefully and picked up two gleaming, red apples. The footman looked at me curiously. "Uh, one for now, one for later," I said, even though I knew he'd never make a comment about me taking two apples. I held them close to me and slipped out of the dining hall. There was no one in the foyer. I glanced to the North Wing. With a deep breath, I plunged forward, hoping that I hadn't been seen.

The North Wing was quite different in the early morning light. The large windows that had before looked so strange now let the sun filter through onto the dark wood floors. Everything seemed silent here, and in the streaming sun, I saw tiny pieces of dust floating. My footsteps were as quiet as I could make them. It wasn't as if I wanted to scared Alphonse, I just wanted to make sure I would not be discovered. I carried the two apples, but as I approached the door to Alphonse's room, I put them both in one hand and turned the door knob as quietly as I could. Peeking in, I saw a tangle of black hair upon a white pillow. I smiled to myself and snuck in to the room. I knew this was improper. It was a scandal. But I could not stay away, not for one moment. I crept quietly and stopped only when I was right over Alphonse. He slept peacefully below me.

In sleep, he did not look so old, so haggard and so ill. He was innocent and beautiful, his skin porcelin and his long dark lashes fluttering against that ivory. My fingers twitched and jumped from their place at my side. They touched his hair, ever so lightly. From what I'd seen, in the darkness, his hair had looked coarse. As I touched it, though, it felt soft, like the fur of my cat, who died when I was younger. It tangled around his head, though, and my fingers moved on. In the light, he looked different...angelic. There seemed to be a halo surrounding him, but I realized it was because light from a small window was drifting down onto his face, and I could see the dust drift around his head. I leaned down, just a bit, and he shifted in his sleep. I leaned down close enough so that my nose almost touched his cheek. And then his eyes opened and he turned his face.

I jumped back, my heart spiking. One of the apples I held fell down. Alphonse sat up and looked at me curiously. "There was uh, something on your face," I said, although I knew this excuse was feeble. Swallowing, I held out an apple. "Would you like an apple?" I asked, bending down to pick up the other. By the time I'd straightened up, Alphonse had gotten out of bed and had come up to me to take the other apple. He was smiling and he was standing quite close to me.

"You were in my dream," he said to me simply. I felt something in myself tug and I was happy. "It was a lovely dream. You were in this garden...full of roses. You were very soft, and a little blurry," he told me. My heart felt as if it were in my mouth and it was as if everything but this moment just was melting away. "There was music...and birdsong. It was paradise." I looked down to the floor, embarrassed. I heard Alphonse take a bite out of his apple. "So you are here during the day? Why?" he asked, his previous voice, the soft, melodic voice fading away and his regular voice taking its place.

I looked back up to him. He was back at his bed and was sitting down. "Your mother and father have gone out to order the decor for the masquerade that Lily is holding next week," I explained.

A sort of wistful look passed over Alphonse's face. "Ah yes, the masquerade. My mother holds it every year."

"And you attend?" I asked.

Alphonse laughed. "Heavens, no. I'm presumed to be dead. It would not be good if word got out that the dearly departed Alphonse Wainwright is back from the grave. And then word would get out about the Wainwright curse and then people might start suspecting the Morgensterns...ah, it would be messy. I could not attend." I held back my answer that people already had been talking about the Wainwright curse. Not the curse, exactly, of course, but it was a common knowledge, that Blood Moon. Or at least, it had been, a little less than a hundred years ago.

"But it is a masquerade. The whole point is that no one would know who you are," I explained. It was obvious that Alphonse wanted to go, but he did not voice his desires. "You should ask your mother...If you dress up and wear a mask, no one will be the wiser," I implored.

He smiled back, but it was not a promising smile. "I will ask. Now come, sit. You did not come to me last night...why?" he questioned. I felt guilty as I walked over to join him on his bed. It was much different in day time. It just felt more obvious now.

"I couldn't. Lily was at the library. I saw her as I was coming to you. It scared me, I did not wish for her to catch me." He understood. "I do not wish for anyone to know that I know about you, lest of all Lily or Charles. It might jeopardize...us." My voice was quiet. A piece of hair, thanks to my rushed effort to put it up on my own, fell down onto my face. Alphonse brushed it back behind my ears. It was an innocent enough gesture, but one that gave an odd sort of fluttery feeling in my somach. We looked at each other quietly, and I now realized the enormity of what before had only been caring feelings toward him. Oh, gosh. Ever since that foolish kiss on the cheek, my heart had slowly but surely become...not very much my own. Just looking at Alphonse made me want to float out of my own skin. I looked down, a blush rising to my cheeks. "That night...when you told me I should leave and not come back...why did you say that?"

It was a stupid question, I knew. I did not want to anger him, or upset him. But when I looked in his eyes, I saw only sadness. He smiled though. "I am afraid that I am becoming quite attached to you. I don't want to get my hopes up...believing that maybe I won't die, just to leave this world without..." he trailed off, looking quite embarrassed.

"Without what?" I asked.

A low laugh rumbled through him. "Tis nothing," he whispered. I knew, though. it could not just be nothing.

Leaning forward, my hands made his way to his, and our fingers looped around each others like a tangle of thick strings. "Promise me you will come to the masquerade. Even if your mother and father do not approve. I'll find you a mask. You do know how to dance, don't you?" I asked him.

He smiled a real smile, finally. "Of course I do! I even taught myself how to waltz. I know, quite scandalous for me." There it was again, that light in his eyes that made me want to smile and laugh and hold him close. "A young lady of your...status would not know how to waltz, though, I am sure," he said softly.

I grinned. "Ah yes, you are forgetting my mother, though. She was one of the first women to learn the waltz. No come on, we will practice! You cannot be stepping on feet at the masquerade. It would be awful for the poor young ladies you will be trying to woo, I fear." Something passed through his face that made me chill. I stood up though, and pulled him along with me.

"But there is no music!" he exclaimed.

"I will hum," I answered. We took our places at the end of his bed, in his pure white room. The sun streamed in and made Alphonse sparkle like a diamond. My breath caught. I almost could not contain my feelings. He looked almost nervous as he put one of his large hands on my waist and the other in my hand. I placed my own hand on his shoulder. Taking a breath, I started to hum the waltz that my mother had sung when she'd taught me how to waltz. I'd never heard an orchestra play it, but I knew that it must be beautiful, if my mother liked it.

We twirled off, then. He was as good of a dancer as I, and there was no fear of any stepped-upon toes. All I could see as we danced was him, staring intently at me. It was the most magical thing that had ever happened to me, and any thought I'd ever had about anything bad in my life was nonexistent here. Here was pixie dust and magic spells and fairy godmothers and charming princess and beautiful princesses. Here I was a young girl, a lady, a woman, here I was sixteen years old and falling in love.

And then, with that final thought, everything crashed in my head. I was falling in love with Alphonse Wainwright. The cursed son. The one who was doomed to live - and die - through a Blood Moon. How could I have done it? He was going to die, he was going to die a terrible death and I could not stop it! I stopped abruptly and the spell that had been cast on us dropped immedietly. "Are you all right?" Alphonse asked breathlessly.

"I...I feel quite ill. I am so sorry. I will come back soon." I stepped back, curtsied once and fled from the room. Oh Lord, how could I lose another one I loved to Death?