The Crimson Inkwell

by Kenneth A Baldwin

  But, Edward didn’t deserve the evils the world gave either.

  I sunk to my knees, exhausted. Perhaps I could just die here, on this floor, fighting the dark.

  Then, I felt a cold breeze call to me from down the hall. A door or window was open somewhere. The air chilled my bare shoulders, giving me goosebumps all the way down my spine. The air felt fresh and real. I wanted to seek it out, escape the musty perfume of the indoors, and breathe cold freedom. The smell of nature and the crisp night worked like smelling salts.

  A sapling of strength trickled into my feet. I found the will to get up.

  I didn’t have to do this. I could close that portal.

  One slow step at a time, I made it down the hallway to my right. A set of different portraits stared at me from their canvas addresses. Next to them were oil landscapes. They felt more real in the cold breeze than they did in the warm, fire-lit lounge. In front of me, I could almost see a trail of particles in the air leading down the hall. They flickered and sparkled like moon dust. As I inched forward, the particles filled me and made war against the dark magic.

  My name is Luella Winthrop. My father loved me. He loved me enough to trade his life for my future.

  I followed the trail of particles, craving clarity, craving the sweet relief of a clean conscience. Somehow, I knew this trail led to redemption. At the end of the trail was potential and meaning.

  The fog creature had never replicated my father in my dreams. Yes, I saw his image, but in no dream had his spirit been as present as it was in these particles of magic, floating in the air.

  I pushed down the hallway and around the corner, where I found lightly billowing drapes framing an open set of glass double doors wrought in wood and iron. Beyond it lay a large balcony with potted trees already dormant for the winter. The trail of particles led out, past the balcony, into the night air. It led me on.

  But, next to the trail, between the dormant trees, Edward stood gripping the railing and looking out at the winter sky.

  He looked so troubled. My heart went out to him. The trail faded from view like spots after looking directly into a gas light.

  I thought about the sharp, bright-eyed detective I met only a couple of months ago. He seemed so different now. Older, maybe. A part of me didn’t want to disturb him. I felt I had caused enough damage, wreaked enough chaos in his life already. But, I could not resist the urge to help him. If there was anything I could do, I wanted to make myself available to help him. Besides, I could not shake the hope that he might help me as well.

  I walked on to the balcony and stood by his side, looking out at the stars as well. I had never seen so many before. A sight like that was enough to remind that God was plausible, perhaps even probable.

  “Please excuse my mother,” he said. “She is under significant stress.” His plea shot pangs of guilt into my heart. I had not excused her. I had almost assaulted her with cutlery.

  “Perhaps we are all a little tired,” I suggested with a sigh. He looked at me and started taking off his jacket. “Please don’t trouble yourself. I’m actually enjoying the air.” He hesitated before easing his jacket over his shoulders again. It was true though. The crisp winter air was having a positive effect on my mood.

  “Then, I must not allow you to remain out for too long.”

  I nodded.

  “I should apologize for my own behavior as well,” he added. “I brought you here knowing full well that this reunion was not likely to be a happy one.”

  “You’re both grieving your father.”

  He turned back to the night sky. “I guess all roads lead me back there, don’t they?”

  “It gets a little easier with time.” I thought about my own father. Easier wasn’t exactly the right word. It never felt easier, but I certainly became better at carrying it. Here I was, more than a decade later, and I still missed him so much. I carried him with me everywhere.

  “You lost your father?”

  “When I was quite young. But, I still remember him, and I hear him sometimes, when I can quiet my thoughts. He was a good man.” Good was an understatement. My father had opened the world to me with that singular gift. Now, even the poorest in Dawnhurst learned to read. But, he lived in a different world. He was an outlier. I can only imagine the looks the governess got as she made her way to our house in the east side the few times a week she came.

  “How did he die?”

  “Fever,” I said, looking down from the stars and into the dark forests over the walls of the estate. “Like so many others. I often wonder if there wasn’t more we could have done.” I shivered.

  “It is natural to wonder as much,” Edward said. “I’ve been wondering the same since Cooper broke the news. Could I have prevented it?”

  “But, you couldn’t have,” I explained, putting a hand on his arm. He stared at it.

  “According to you.”

  He still didn’t understand. Perhaps he didn’t believe me. I shut my eyes tightly, rueful of the pain I had already caused him, conscious of all the turmoil unanswered questions can bring.

  “Edward, there was nothing you could have done to prevent this,” I insisted.

  “I’m a detective, aren’t I?” he asked. “Weren’t you the reporter that wrote up the story of the Steely-Eyed Detective and the Fog Man? I saw the fog kill a man. I lived through it, and I did nothing to investigate it. I just treated it like a common theft.”

  “What could you have done? You’re not a wizard.”

  “I don’t know. Something at least.” He turned his body to face me in the dark. “It was my negligence that caused my father’s death. You ask me what I could have done? I could have noticed a pattern of strange happenings reported by the woman I let into my heart. I turned a blind eye when I should have pressed you on it.”

  I could not tell with what energy he looked on me. Was he angry? Was he finally ready to blame me for all that happened?

  “You can ask now. I will tell you anything you want to know,” I said. The cold was constricting my lungs. Between the temperature and the corset Rose had fastened for me, breathing did not come easily. She had said this was as loose as she could fix it. I had a fleeting thought about all the noble ladies of the past who mistook the side effects of their gowns for romantic butterflies.

  “It’s all too late, now. No good can come of any of it.”

  “You could find closure. You could recognize that it was completely out of your hands. Please, Edward, ask me something. Let me help you.”

  He turned away and paced to the other side of the balcony, where he stood, motionless and quiet for another spell, before turning back to me. The dark obscured his features, making it even more difficult for me to read him.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he said, his voice low.

  “Tempt you? I’m only trying to ease your pain.” And my own. I needed him as a full partner to fight my own battles.

  “It’s just that—I mean the problem is, I love you, Luella.”

  His words knocked whatever breath was left out of my lungs in one fell exhale. Edward Thomas loved me. In spite of everything. I wanted to believe him. My heart flew to him. My head spun. But, this couldn’t be right. He was affected by his father’s death. His judgment was cloudy. He was drunk on the wine from dinner. He was angry at his mother. Anything. There must be some reason he was lying to me, to himself.

  “Edward—”

  “Can you imagine what it must be like to hear the woman you love is tangled in the questionable death of your own father? It’s tearing me apart.”

  Finally, he was speaking plainly to me, and what a bittersweet brew he offered. His words stung like poisoned barbs, but at least it was not a veiled patchwork I had to try to see through. It was too much to feel all at once. The confession of his love and how much that pained him. I had nothing to offer him, nothing but myself, and there was only one way to give it to him.

  “Let me explain everything to you. It will help you understand.”r />
  “I can’t hear it,” he said, his voice breaking. “Oh, I want to so badly. I want to know all about you. I’d love nothing more than to hear any detail that would let me further acquit you of this wrong in my mind. Not to mention the joy I would feel knowing the degree of trust we shared. The very fact that you are willing to explain it all fills me with hope.”

  I remained silent, waiting, dreading what came next.

  “But—I can’t hear it. I can’t tempt myself with the bitterness or jealousy. The details of your experience with that man from the carnival, with my father’s death, they could be enough to overcome me altogether. What unhuman passion might seize me? I could chase after that man with an idea to kill him. Or, worse, what if some detail unfolded that put in my way a stumbling block too much for my human capacity to forgive? Don’t you see? I want to love you. I want the details to come out slowly, over the course of a lifetime, one little piece at a time, digestible, beatable, with you beside me.”

  I felt an enormous lump in my throat. He wanted me to hurt him for a lifetime, so that he could give me all of himself. I had not experienced such pure love since my father’s passing. I had dreamed of falling in love since I was a little girl, since that hole formed in me, but I never could have understood it until this moment. Love wasn’t opening parcels at Christmas. Love was this, two wounded souls together, aboard a ship in a storm, mending the sails as best they knew how.

  “What are you saying?” I asked, blinking away tears that came out unnaturally hot against my now frigid cheeks. He walked closer to me and scooped me into his arms. My heart hammered against my chest. He looked down at me, and he was close enough now for me to make out his big, pleading eyes in painstaking detail.

  “I want you beside me, forever. I don’t want to take all of this alone, running the estate and rebuilding after my father. I don’t want to face a day of this without you, and I know you think that your mistakes killed my father, and maybe they did, but I know you could not have done so intentionally. I want you to bear me up while I go through this and marry me afterwards.”

  The stars above me shook. Tears flowed down my face and dipped on to my collarbones, creating chilly little riverbeds on my skin.

  “You can’t mean it,” I stammered.

  “I’m quite sure I do.”

  He kissed me then, chasing out any feeling of cold on my shoulders or lingering anger in my breast. I felt the warmth spread across my chest, in my fingers, on my neck, and in every part of me. I felt everything crashing down at my feet, all doubts, fears, or resistance. I was swept up into this beautiful paradise. I walked into the vision, and I could see myself happy there, on a beautiful hilltop overlooking the lake, my head resting on Edward’s shoulder, serene and peaceful.

  We pulled apart, and I looked up into his eyes again, breathing lightly, afraid I would wake up.

  I didn’t say anything, but he rested his forehead on mine.

  “Please forgive me,” he said. “Technically, I think you’re still engaged.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I said.

  “Then you aren’t still loyal to Mr. Livingston?” he asked, his eyebrows raised hopefully.

  I shook my head. I was still processing the betrayal Byron had rendered me, but I was confident that portion of my life had concluded. Edward tightened his grip on my waist, belaying his excitement.

  “And do you have a response for me?”

  I wanted to say yes. I didn’t have words to express how much I wanted the life he had proposed. I wanted to stay with him, become his wife, run the estate, even deal with his mother, but I couldn’t.

  “I hope you can determine my answer by my actions,” I said. I was evading a response. What was wrong with me? My heart still raced being so close to him, absorbing the scent of him, feeling his warmth.

  “You do have a way with words,” he said amidst a boyish grin. “My sweet Luella, it feels so good to smile again, at least for a moment.”

  I touched the cuts on his face tenderly and kissed him again. Let him smile. Let me forget the looming horizon for a moment.

  I had never seen him so vulnerable. There was something touching about the simplicity of this brief reprieve from his grief. To Byron, I had often felt like a trophy, a trophy he was delighted to have, but a trophy nonetheless. Edward made me feel like fresh water. But, I could not be open with him while he was in such a tender state. For tonight, at least, it would have to be enough to bask in his kisses and get a small taste of what a simpler life would have been.

  We stood there on the balcony for a long time. After a while, I consented to accept his jacket to protect me from the cold, but before long, the safe comfort of his arms reminded me of how tired I felt. The excitement of that morning and the long journey to Fernmount had taken a toll on me. As much as I wanted the moment to last, I fought to keep my eyes open. Still, my time with Edward had accomplished a miracle. I no longer feared an outbreak tonight. I would be safe from myself until the morning.

  Edward escorted me back to my room, where Rose waited for me. After a heartfelt goodnight, he left me in her able hands. She helped me out of my evening dress and into a nightgown. I fell asleep amid conflicting emotions and thoughts about inkwells.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Skylark

  I WOKE EARLY the next morning after a tumultuous sleep. I had tossed and turned most of the night, trying to make sense of rich detectives, grieving widows, and magical hallucinations. The early dawn light filtered through the blinds. I lay on my side, staring at the crimson inkwell sitting on the nightstand.

  Had I really almost used it to do Edward’s family more harm?

  I wanted to dream again of the downy fog monster to ask it my burning question. I wasn’t sure if my last encounter with it had been real, but Rose’s recital of its peculiar way of communicating had me on edge. Then last night, as I fell asleep, its words came back to me, words like a dark poison. Could I trust Edward’s confession of love, or had it been affected by magic? The monster had promised that I would not be able to tell the difference. I wanted answers. I wanted clarity. I wanted to know if I could accept Edward’s proposal.

  Instead, I had dreamed of my real father and mother. We were at a small park in the city, enjoying some bread and cheese my mother had packed for lunch. It was a calm spring day. I ran among the rushes and laughed when I found butterflies and chased small birds. My father clapped his hands and kissed my mother. It felt like a memory more than a dream. As a result, I woke before the dawn and laid in bed thinking about him. His memory lived on in me through the lessons he taught me. On this particular morning, I tried my best to piece together things he had said so long ago about love. I wished so badly that he were still here.

  When I thought of my father, though, I sadly felt more confident in my decision not to accept Edward’s proposal outright.

  First, he was in no state to make a decision like that. He had just fought with his mother, recently lost his father, and had decided to violate the law by harboring the fugitive his entire station pursued. I simply could not trust his faculties at present. I would feel like I was taking advantage of him in a time of weakness.

  Second, the inkwell made me mistrust whether Edward had even exercised his own free will when confessing his feelings toward me or if they even were his own true feelings. I thought about the peculiar attractions I had felt toward Bram, how that first night he had so easily lured me into his yurt. Those feelings confused me even now. Had he cast some type of enchantment over me? Who knew what he had in that chest of his? The meddler. That’s what the downy fog monster had called him. That monster had a mind of its own. Had it cast some similar enchantment on Edward as it had hinted to me?

  I could never live and happily love him if I knew, deep down, there was a chance I was living a farce. I couldn’t bear knowing that first I killed his father then bewitched him. What would I become?

  But, there was something even deeper than magic that kept me from Edwa
rd.

  I took a deep breath and pulled my blanket off me. It was still early, and the room was very cold. Through the curtains, the early light of dawn was creeping through the window. I pulled them back and looked out at the dreamland that surrounded Fernmount. A heavy fog settled on the meadows and forests around, painting everything in light, muted colors. It was like a painting. I wanted to live it. Out there, somewhere, lay the end of that trail of magical particles I saw last night, and what a wonderful trail it was. Simply following in its path had been enough to dispel the darkness in me. It led me to Edward and beckoned me even beyond. I wanted to see if I could find it again.

  I found a thick robe and wrapped myself up in it before putting on some shoes and sneaking out the door. There was no sign of Rose. She must have still been sleeping or attending to some other need of the house. Perhaps she was preparing Lady Thomas’ wardrobe.

  I made my way through the house. Everything was quiet. Somewhere, I imagined the servants should be stirring and preparing for the day, at least preparing dinner, but I did not encounter a soul. I found a door near the back of the house. It was less elaborate and heavy than the front door, perhaps a servants’ entrance. I slipped through and walked across a small courtyard, breathing in the fresh, crisp air. It shocked my lungs. I hoped it would shock my mind as well. The courtyard gravel crunched beneath my feet as I cleared the gate and strode into the meadow. The grass had yellowed, but there hadn’t yet been a heavy snowfall. It stood tall but parted easily as I explored the fog. Soon, it obscured the view behind me, and I could see maybe fifty meters in any direction. One side trees, the other meadow.

  The last time I had felt like this had been something like a dream. That encounter had brought nothing but questions. Now, I sought clarity. I sought the road to peace. I squinted my eyes, trying to find moon dust in the air.

  A few months ago, my life had been so normal. So many terrible things had happened since. But then again, some good had come of it. Perhaps I never would have found the courage to leave Byron, and I knew now that marrying him may have been the biggest mistake of my life. Anna, too, had come away from my mistakes with a secured prospect with Jacob. It was easy to get carried away justifying regret with silver linings.