Soliloquy

Charles refused to look at me and it made his words all the more foreboding. He stared outside his window, and glancing to my right, I noticed that we'd driven far enough so that the rain was behind us. I looked back to Charles, who had finally turned his head. His eyes still did not meet mine, however. He looked uncharacteristically guilty, and I wished he would just tell me, instead of making the distance between his words so painfully long. He took a deep breath. "When you were upstairs, I noticed the letter that your father gave you...the one in that crate, the one you picked up but did not open."

I looked at the letter carefully. It felt like poision. If I were to touch it, I would die. "You believe that you know this...truth that my father speaks of?" I asked. Charles hesitated, met my gaze carefully and then pulled his shaky arms up to cover his eyes. He looked as if he might cry. "Are you quite all right?" I asked quickly.

Removing his hands from his eyes, Charles nodded meekly. "I believe I know the truth, for it is a truth that has been eating me inside for so long now..." He sighed. "I would rather you hear it from my lips instead of by the pen of your father. It could never clear my conscience, but then maybe I might be able to heal..." I said nothing. It seemed hard for him to talk. He took a few haggard breaths. I noticed that his hands clenched at his knees. "When your mother married your father, she was narry half his age," he told me.

"Yes," I agreed.

Charles lifted his head. "My god, she was so beautiful. This was when I was a much younger man, only a few years or so older than your mother. Quite young and very foolish, I do say. I came to London right after I finished at Cambridge. I was staying with a friend...someone who knew your father and was invited to his wedding. I attended as well. It was then that I fell passionatley in love with Fiona...your mother." This news made me feel very cold all over. I did not want to believe his words, wanted to block them out forever. He would not stop talking, though. "I do not believe she loved me, but I was younger than your father and she said that I made her feel..." he paused, "...not quite so lonely."

I licked my lips, which were suddenly very chafed. "You were her lover." It was not a question.

If I had not been looking directly at Charles, I might have missed the tiny nod he gave me. "We could not control it. You cannot control who you fall in love with, can you?" he asked. Leaning my head down, I suppressed an ironic smile and did not answer. "It went on for quite some time. There were no cares, no worries, nothing. We were young. We were happy. There seemed to be no repurcussions."

"So what happened?" I asked, "to change things?" I tried to put it out of my mind that this was my mother I was talking about. But why hadn't she told me? She could tell me anything. Why had she hid this from me? I would have never judged her. Not like father.

Charles heaved a great breath which seemed to be the edge of a sob. "She came to me one day...I remember it distinctly...it was raining...so hard...she came to me to tell me that her courses hadn't come." My stomach twisted and I felt sick to my stomach. "I asked her if she was sure, and she said she had waited three weeks and there was still no sign of anything. I tried to reason that maybe it was not us but she told me that she had not been to your fathers' rooms since the marriage night."

If I were any other girl, I might not understand. But I was not any other girl. I was Faerie Brighton, the eccentric daughter of the strange Fiona Moore. So I had learned, and I understood. I shuddered. "Why did she not tell me?" I asked Charles carefully. He said nothing. "What happened...then?" I inquired.

"She had the child. She named him after my father."

I swallowed. "Jason."

My dark companion nodded and leaned down, over his knees. "How many times I have thought myself a sinner! Not only for fathering her child, but for feeling joy, feeling happiness when the child died. When they buried him, it was the blackest day for my dear Fiona. And it was the lightest day for me. The day after his funeral, I left London to return to Huntsville, to return to Deathcreeke. I met Lily sometime after and found that I could love again after doing such a wicked thing to such an innocent creature." He was quiet for some time. Straightening up, he looked out his window once more. I watched his profile. "But I am still the one wicked one after all..." an unnamed emotion flickered through his eyes as he said that.

"You believe that my father found this out? You believe that is what his letter contains?" I questioned. Charles nodded curtly. "I see."

I heard Charles breathing heavily. "And yet you do not hate me. You do not curse my name, you do not cry, you do not scream. You have learned a very dark secret, one that not even my wife knows, and yet you sit there, still as a stone." He laughed softly. "I cannot believe that you do not hate me."

"It is not you that I could hate." I looked at him, trying to find the strength to meet his eyes which, even after all of this, still reminded me of Alphonse. "It was my mother who did not tell me this. It was my mother who hid this secret from me. It is my mother that I realize I do not know. But I cannot hate her either. Who am I to hate then? No one. I have no hate inside my heart, anyway."

"I was the one who sought out your father to become his business partner. It was quite stupid, I knew, but inside my heart, my love for Fiona would not go away. I wanted to make myself close to her, even if I was far away. Even if I could never see her again. So I became close to your father. With every letter he sent about his business dealings, he would tell me about her. And then when you came, he would tell me about you. I have every letter he ever sent me saved. It is foolish, I know." Charles looked at me and attempted a smile. "I am fortune's fool," he said and I recognized that from Romeo and Juliet. Indeed it seemed as if Charles and my mother were a little something like Romeo and Juliet...

I sat back into my seat and crossed my ankles, trying to seem collected. I didn't even know how to explain what I felt. It was a combination of sickness and an absolute void. I found that I honestly was not angry with Charles. I did not understand him, nor did I wish to, but I could not find anger towards him within me. It was my mother I felt angry towards. I did not hate her, I could not hate her. But she had betrayed me so deeply, I did not even want to believe that the hurt was real. I wanted to bury the lie in my heart and never remember it. I wanted to pretend she'd never done such a thing and pretend that she was still the mother I knew and loved. But I couldn't help feel that maybe there were more secrets she was hiding from me...

"Faerie," said Charles quickly and I looked to him. His face had changed. He shifted from his side of the carriage to mine and I instinctively pulled over. I did not hate him but I did not really want to be near him. His words at the masquerade and his words from that strange and fateful morning were still not too distant memories to me. He was too close, too soon. "I did not mean to hurt you, believe me, it is the furthest thing that I want," his face changed to softness, "when I heard of your mothers' death I came as soon as I could. Your father told me of his plight. He was growing sick and weary, he said, and he wished you gone from his house. I implored him to let me take you to Deathcreeke, where I told him I'd find you a decent husband."

I felt myself exhale and I realized I hadn't even known I was holding my breath. "You told my father to let me come with you? But...why?" I questioned.

Charles raised his hand for a moment, and I thought him might cover his eyes once more. He didn't. His hand went to my hair, and I felt a small thrumming of fear start to run its course through my veins. "It was terrible, I know, but I wanted you to tell me more of your mother...I miss her so...I loved her so..." An onslaught of tears seemed to come to his eyes. They shone bright, but no water fell. "You do not even understand how much you look like her. It aches to even look at your face."

I wanted to move my head out of his hand, but there was no where I could go. Charles leaned in closer to me, just a bit closer. "There is nothing I can do, Fae." I did not understand his words. "I am the darkness." His voice was a whisper. "I fear that I am..." closer, closer, closer..."in love with you." His lips were almost on mine.

At first, when I realized what he meant to do, my mind went blank. But when I finally found myself again, I struggled away from him. Pulling out of his grasp, I threw myself across the carriage to the other side. I pratically clawed at the carriage to get myself as far away from him as I could. I looked at the carriage walls for a few moments, my breaths coming out in out in heavy, short bursts. My back prickled with sweat through my muslin dress. I wanted to tear at my skin, to leave myself, to run away and never look back. I was trapped, though. Trapped by for walls of ornate wood. And when I finally found the courage to look at Charles, he was sitting at the other corner of the carriage. His eyes were blank. Tears were running down his face.

I closed my eyes and willed this to be a nightmare. But I knew no nightmare could ever be as terrifying as my reality.

"Faerie...Faerie..." the voice was distant and I felt myself being pulled from sleep. When I opened my eyes, I saw the face of my mother. And then I blinked and realized it was only Lily, looking at me with a smiling face. I realized that I was seated in the carriage and I'd fallen asleep. We were back to Deathcreeke and as I looked to the other side of the carriage, I saw that Charles was nowhere to be found. I felt so relieved.

The rest of the trip home had been something of a blur. I slept away my troubles and read the books that my father had put into the crate. They were all favorites of my mothers as I looked through them - Candide, Don Quixote, The Canterbury Tales - I found myself interested enough in Candide to let it take my mind off of the monster that I'd been caged with. I'd drifted between reality, fantasy and dreamland so frequently that it had been easy to blur the lines between the two. But now, now I'd been pulled from that blur roughly and there I was.

It was dark, but Lily was still pulling me from the carriage. I grabbed the small crate and held it to me as if it were my child. Stumbling, my feet walked themselves to the doors of Deathcreeke and then I was back again. I looked up to the ceiling and noticed that there was a beautiful mural painted on it. I'd never noticed that. It was all blues and whites and angels and I wished I could get lost in it. As soon as I was looking at it though, I was being kindly led up the grand staircase. A footman was taking the carpetbag I'd left in the carriage for me up to my room. And then once again I was alone in the confines of my four white walls.

My body ached for Alphonse and yet I knew I could not go to him until Lily and...Charles were asleep. So I waited. Then I undressed. And waited some more. And opened my window, feeling the cold breeze rush into the hot room. And waited. Then closed my window and wandered over to the dying fire. Then waited even longer. And when I finally heard the clock chime twelve times, I knew it would be safe to leave my room.

When I'd arrived, the chandeliers and the sconces had still been burning. Now everything was snuffed out and the whole manor was drenched in darkness and shadows. I threw my one flickering light in front of me and plunged forward. I missed him, oh god, I missed him so.

I felt myself picking up my pace as I went down the stairs, through the foyer and through the hall that led to the North Wing. By the time I was down at the hall that led to Alphonse's room, the hall where we had confessed our hearts to one another, I was running. I wasted no time in pushing open the door. My breath caught as I saw Alphonse on the other side of his room. Moonlight streamed in through his window and he was bathed in the bright blue light. We wore a large white night shirt and tan breeches. He stood with an air that did not resemble at all the way he'd stood, the person he'd been the first time I'd met him. He turned to me when he heard the door open, and his face...

It was every inch his father's, but the smile his gave me was his own. Forever. My heart lept into my mouth and I set the candle down on a small round table that sat near the door. I rushed forward to meet him and was greeted by open arms. He grasped onto me with arms that seemed stronger than the last time I felt him. He was getting better, he was getting stronger, he would live, I just knew it. Damn the curse. Didn't true love always overcome great evil? I wanted to believe so. And in Alphonse's arms, the nightmares, the betrayals, the lies and the fears of the past four days seemed to melt. It wasn't as if they did not exist, but with Alphonse, the existed in a different part of my life. A part of my life that was not this one.

"Damn your father for dying at such an inconvenient time," said Alphonse and I detected a hint of a smile.

I looked to him. "I wished to tell you, but we left so quickly...there was no way I could, I am so sor-"

Alphonse cut me off with a finger to my lips. "Say nothing more about it. As much as I was mad at him for taking you away from me, your father is your father. And if he wanted to die at that particular moment, well I suppose there was nothing I could do." He pouted then, "oh you must think me beastly for being so rude to your dearly departed Papa."

I snorted, even though I knew it was unlady like. "I can't imagine what you'd do if I told you what happened at the banquet following his funeral..." Alphonse stared at me. "My father's estate is to go to my cousin, Michael Kinsley. Rupert Townshend, the twit, tried to implore me into marrying him, even when I knew it was just so he would be married to me before the estate was to be given away. And of course his father tried to buy me off of your father, who is now..." I swallowed, a bad taste rising up in my throat, "who now is my guardian." A darkness spread over Alphonse's face. I found myself laughing. "Oh don't be mad. Of course I denied him."

"You better have. I shall not let anyone take you from me." Leaning down, Alphonse looked at me straight into my eyes. "Ever." His words sent a chill up and down my spine. Not only because it seemed like a thrilling promise - which it did - but also because it made me wonder what Alphonse would do if he knew about what had happened between me and his father. What his father had tried to do...

It was then that I knew that I could never, ever tell Alphonse about what had passed between us. There could be only two possible outcomes. Either Alphonse would deny his father to be the sort of man who would do that and hate me for all eternity, or he would go beserk and do something incredibly rash to his father. The latter option seemed very unlikely and I did not wish Alphonse to hate me for all eternity. I did my best to throw those thoughts out of my mind, however, and smiled. "Then you should know that I will never let anyone take you away from me. I swear it."

We finally parted from our embrace and Alphonse wandered to his bed, where moonlight spilled onto his white bedclothes. I went to the bed and sat across from him, looking at his face. Up close, I could see that it was not every inch his father, after all. He had the pale skin, the black hair, the dark eyes - but his eyes were soft and kind. His nose was smaller, his lips were thinner...he looked relatively the same as when I'd first seen him but still radically different. There were subtle differences between him and Charles, but they were differences I embraced, differences I loved. "I have been thinking," his lips suddenly said. I looked to his eyes and heat rose to my cheeks. I hadn't even noticed I'd been looking at his lips until then.

"About what?" I questioned, my voice quite breathier than I hoped.

Alphonse cleared his throat. "About what you said. About what Wren said, actually. You know, about breaking the curse. Finding the will to live. All that." I smiled. "It was not a decision I made consciously, but I do believe that I am changing. When I was isolated, I would spend days upon days in my bed. My body was weak, my spirit, weaker. It is different now...everything seems brighter..."

"Do you believe that to be my doing?" I asked.

With a smile, Alphonse said, "of course. Whose else would it be?" Truthfully, I did not know, so I stayed quiet. I heard Alphonse sigh, but it was a happy sigh, a light sigh. I felt his hand upon mine and looked at his soft face. He smiled again, and I saw within him a sort of dazzling bright light. The kind of light that only comes from a few people. The smile quickly faded, however, as I realized that he was getting closer to me. I shut my eyes tightly and found the image of the day prior stuck in my brain. It ate at the corners of my conscience and I wanted to forget it, but found I coult. "Are you...afraid?" asked Alphonse suddenly.

I opened my eyes. He looked troubled. "Yes." I could not lie to him. I was afraid.

"Trust me," he whispered. I wanted to trust him more than anything. So I did. He leaned in to me and swallowed. I then realized that I had never been truly kissed before. By my mother and father, yes of course. By people politely kissing my hand, yes that too. I'd even come dangerously close to kissing other males. Rupert once had tried to kiss me and I had turned away quickly. Then Prince had almost kissed me, before we'd been interrupted by Lily. And then of course when Sloane had almost kissed me before Prince had come in to save me. And then...and then...but this was different. I could not deny that. There was no force, there was no unwanting. My heart wanted this. My heart wanted him. I wanted him.

We were both nervous, awkward and innocent. We shook as we came closer, he fumbled as his lips came to my cheeks then moved to the corner of my mouth. We met in the middle and something blossomed in the pit of my stomach. A sort of glittering, incandescent feeling that made me want to melt and sigh. His hand came to the back of my head and our hands gripped the others fiercly, as if we'd be torn apart if we ever left the other. Our lips too, seemed stuck to each other. It deepened and changed, there was a hot feeling in my mouth and a blurry feeling in my brain.

My home in London was not my home. Deathcreeke could never be home either. It must be Alphonse then. Home was where my heart lay. And my heart lay with Alphonse.