At this point, William drew the line. If this was some sort of joke, he didn’t see the humor in it, and it was time to end it.
He murmured. “Perhaps he’s ignoring me purposely. A swift kick in the bum would get his attention, I bet.”
With anger surging through him, tearing at his nerves, he tightened his fists, and his flushed cheeks bulged. He drew back his arm, and with great force, he dropped it across the butler’s cheek.
“Take that!”
But, nothing…no contact! And, still, no answer. He was baffled. His strong hand had passed through Bolshie like smoke, like the woman in the ghastly dream! He had no idea what to make of this.
“Preposterous,” he shouted. “I used all of my force.”
He was certainly surprised. Bolshie acted as though nothing had happened, like the impact had no affect on him. It was as if he’d become invisible and everyone had forgotten him.
Perhaps he’d gone insane, or, maybe he was still dreaming. That would be better.
Guess again…
He withdrew his trembling hand, stepping back against, none other than, the beautiful Lady Windsor. “What on earth is happening?” He whispered to himself while he admired Ann’s elegant ivory gown, the one he’d waited weeks to see her in. He could feel the damp tears that were flooding his eyes now.
“Why is this happening? Someone please wake me.”
Beneath the orange flares, her flawless skin shimmered, and her sable spirals fell evenly a few inches above her slender waistline. Her sapphire eyes, which matched the brooch she wore, gleamed with the warmness, the affection, he had longed for. On the outside she was glorious; inwardly she seemed lonely. Lord Whitman attempted a whispered to her.
“My lady, can you hear me?”
Again, no reply!
Shifting his eyes toward the joyous crowd, he screamed.
“Have you all gone mad?”
His feet touched the hem of Ann’s dainty dress as he slow-stepped behind her. His mouth opened wide with bewilderment. Elegantly, Ann entered the charming manor, which once belonged to him, before this night happened. Then, as she wondered where this man was, this man she aimed to dance with, she trilled and faced Jillian, who’d been talking everyone’s ears sore.
“Where is Lord Whitman, milady? Will he arrive soon?”
“I hope so,” Jillian answered with a swift curtsey.
Lord Whitman shook his head. “But, I am here, my lady!” His body cringed as fear rippled through it like wildfire.
He continued to cry out.
“Please, can’t you hear me… see me?” With a full extent of his arm, he reached out, to touch her. He hoped she could sense him at least. And, like the dream, her torso could not be tapped. His trembling fingers passed through her soft curls, then through her shapely shoulder, like air on the water. It was clear; to these people he was dead. But, he could not determine why.
His eyes moistened with tears.
“I beg you to hear me!”
Suddenly, Ann gasped, feeling an eerie essence, and it stunned her. An unearthly chill grazed her. She turned to face another woman, lady Baroque of Sussex, who seemed too cynical for descent conversation.
“Did you feel a cold breeze, milady?”
“No,” she replied with a smirk. “Silly girl.”
“But, my arms, the cold has raised bumps on them madam.”
Lady Baroque rolled her beady eyes. “It is only a breeze.”
“I’m here!” Lord Whitman shouted. The heat of his anger nipped his nerves. He felt hopeless. And, suddenly he paused, casting eyes on the opposite end of the room.
It was….it was the carriage driver, who had left him stranded in the woods, in the night. Narrowing his gaze, his angry stare, he bolted forward, toward the smiling coachman. His fists closed, ready to strike the man’s head.
“You ba**ard!”
The coachman cringed, and then put his hands up.
“Wait, my lord! Allow me to explain!”
His hands pushed outward, to protect him.
William stopped. A small bit of hope overwhelmed him. If there was an explanation, he was ready to hear it. Then he realized, this man had responded to him.
“You can hear me, Sir?”
His diabolic chuckling angered William more. And, with Ann’s inability to see him, he would never conquer his love quest. What the hell was this man laughing at? It was a simple question. Right?
“Explain then!” The Duke urged with every intention of striking the driver.
“Look around, my lord. I am the only one who can hear you…and see you.”
2
William examined the room, slowly. Then he returned his befuddled gaze to the coachman.
“But, why Sir?”
“Don’t you remember…in the forest, when we were robbed, when we were shot?”
A slow drizzle of blood trickled down from the coachman’s silver hairline and fell from his drooped brow. But, he smiled.
William inclined his head, mouth wide open, “Why no. I remember nothing.”
He pulled back his coat to glance in, at his wounded chest. Now, he was certainly baffled, shocked actually. He didn’t feel a thing, no pain, no recollection of the tragic incident. His nose wrinkled as he stroked his bloody shirt with shuddered fingers. Then, reality shook him.
“No,” he whispered, peering out into the joyous crowd, out at Lady Windsor, who would never know his love. She would never embrace him. This he could not bare.
“No…No…No!” Falling to his rattling knees, he screamed…
“NO………………..!”
The coachman, who’d embraced reality already, rolled his bloodshot eyes, finding that the Duke’s bellowing annoyed him.
“Nonsense!” He tugged at William’s coat. “Get up.”
“We are dead!” William exclaimed. “What does it matter if I weep?”
“You must come, Sir.”
There was much to see.
“What could be worth seeing, old man?”
“Follow me and I’ll show you.”
William wiped away his tears while standing to follow the hasty coachman, who climbed the stairs, toward the Duke’s private chamber. An eerie chill grazed William’s neck, spiking fine hairs, and raising concern.
“What is it you mean to show me, driver? And, what is your name?”
Briefly, there was dead-silence, as the coachman ceased his steps. He turned to face William.
“The name is Henry, Sir…Shh.”
His finger pressed into his wrinkled lips.
The duke threw his hands up and shrugged.
“What is it Henry?”
Henry motioned with a slight wave of his elderly hand.
“Come Sir.”
Stepping apathetically, Henry entered William’s once homely bedchamber. And, he stopped, shooting a glance at the darkest corner. He turned to William with a freakish smile on his ghastly, old face.
“Allow me to introduce you, my lord.”
“Introduce me?”
“Yes,” Henry exclaimed.
“Introduce me to whom?”
Then she revealed herself, coming out of the shadows and into the dim light, noting William’s startled expression. Like rays of sunlight when they pierce dark clouds, she stood out. William gasped. His breath quickened to a dangerous pace. His heart beat dangerously swift.
“What…who…what is she?”
Henry smirked. “Take a deep breath Sir.”
Taking a closer, more precise look at her face, William hushed.
“Isabella?” He gasped…
And, without further words, and the ability to stand, the handsome Duke fainted.
“Oh dear,” Henry uttered, kneeling to wake William. He didn’t expect such a fragile reaction. He shook him slightly and the Duke began to squirm.
Rightfully, he was disoriented. Baffled. How could it be that this woman, the Duke’s wife, who’d been deceased near five years, be standing before him now?
Still in shock, he stood, and began to evaluate her through wondrous eyes. Why did she appear so different to him than when she lived, and how was this possible? Had she been there all the while? These things he could not determine, but, he approached her.
“Isabella. Is it really you?”
“Yes, my love.”
She came fully out of the darkness, and into his perfect arms, which were still very unsteady. Finally, her pallid face was clear, though, there was some difference. Her once golden hair had been turned to a dull blonde with a few silver strands, but her skin was the same immaculate shade of buff it had once been in life. She always had a sun kissed glow that William admired. He had longed to see her, to touch her, to speak to her, and he embraced her right away. And, even though his hands did not pass through her now, he could sense death upon her still. Her lips were still cherry but her skin was cold as ice. She pulled him in closer wondering if she still frightened him.
“How I’ve missed you, William.”
“And, I have been dreaming of you my love, each night.”
He’d thought of her often, but never dreamed he’d see her again, touch her, until death that is. Now it was possible. He could only wonder what was next, what strange occurrence would come. No matter. At this moment, he was joyful, content. He ignored the coolness of Isabelle’s kiss, focusing on her warm breath against his. She slid her fingers along his chest and fixed her eyes on his.
“I waited all of this time, alone in this house, longing for this moment.”
William felt a numbing sensation in his heart, a painless stinging he could not comprehend. He quickly deserted his welcoming thoughts and withdrew his arms.
“My love. Are you saying you wished me to die?”
“No,” Isabelle promised in a ghastly whisper, though, he did not mind the change in her voice. “But, I have watched you for so long William. I have been so lonely my dear, so detached without you. Have you not missed me as much?”
“Of course I’ve missed you, Isa. How could I not?”
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