Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins

by Margeaux Laurent

  Late Afternoon

  My mother stood behind me and brushed my hair as Martha laced up my stay, or as Greer would say, 'corset.' I found it hard to breathe, and held onto my bedpost as I felt my ribs caving in toward each other.

  After my mother had brushed my hair thoroughly, she started to roll my hair high onto the crown of my head. She pinned pieces of my hair as she went and then pulled two long curled strands around either side of my neck, letting them fall over my shoulders.

  My garnet necklace sparkled in the mirror as I reached up to touch it. Martha then applied powder to my face and rouge to my cheeks and lips.

  I slipped into my dress. It was crimson red silk and on the corner of my cape, right above my shoulder, my mother had sewn on my holly and ivy embroidery. Looking at it now, I realized how beautiful it was and why my mother had insisted that I take great care in sewing it. The dress was adorned with black lace that accented the cuffs and bodice. In contrast, the corset was a dark cream color as was the underskirt. I was not expecting my mother to make such a mature dress for me. I felt beautiful.

  “Thank you so much. This is the most beautiful dress I have ever seen,” I said, as I reached for my mother's hand.

  “You look stunning Aislin,” my mother kissed my cheek, “You are all grown up.”

  Martha dabbed her eyes with my dressing robe, “You look like a queen. I can't believe it . . . I remember when you were born. You were so little . . . and loud,” she laughed.

  I could not stop looking in the mirror. I felt as though I was staring at a different person. I wondered what Greer would think, and I felt my heart start to flutter.

  “The carriage is here,” my father called up to us.

  My father opened the front door for me and escorted me to the carriage that was waiting in front of our house. I felt my heart beat fast as we reached the carriage door, but when it swung opened my exhilaration quickly shifted to confusion and disappointment.

  “Hello Miss Aislin. I will be your escort tonight,” Jack jumped out of the carriage to greet me.

  I looked back at my father, “Where is Greer?” I demanded.

  My father grimaced at my question and looked down at his feet, “Greer was preoccupied tonight. He sends his regrets, but arranged for Jack to be your escort.”

  At that, he lifted me into the carriage, leaving Jack to scramble in after me. I thought I was going to cry and was trying not to ruin all the work that my mother and Martha had done with my hair and makeup.

  Jack handed me a kerchief, “I am delighted to be your escort tonight…and I am sorry that you are disappointed about Mr. Ruthven.”

  “It is not your fault. I was not told that Greer would not be with me, and I guess I am a little bit hurt. But I am glad for your company,” I added the last part out of kindness.

  In truth, I just wanted to go home—and the night had not even begun.

  My words seemed to lift Jack's spirits and he started whistling as we rode along to the Governor's mansion.

  “Have you seen Abigail since her wedding?” he asked me when he was finally out of song and the silence had become too stifling.

  “No,” I replied, “Have you?”

  “No.” Then he started whistling again.

  ********************

  The carriage pulled up to the front steps of the estate and Jack hopped out first. He then offered me his hand and guided me passed the guards that stood on either side of the stairway.

  The house was grand. It stood three stories high and had an expanse that could fit my home in it at least ten times. Its brick structure seemed to glow a reddish hue as the guards' lanterns cast light upon it. Music was pouring out of the house and laughter was carrying through the air, as candlelight danced in every window, making the home look as though faeries had enchanted it. This was a Christmas Ball, and evergreen garland was wrapped around the four white columns that framed the entrance, while holly berries and mistletoe adorned every single banister.

  We walked up the great steps and a doorman dressed in a grey uniform, held the large doors wide open for us, “Good evening. May I have your invitations please?” he sniffed haughtily.

  Jack handed him both of our envelopes, our names were checked and crossed off, and we were admitted into the beautiful house. As soon as we crossed the grand threshold, the fragrance of bayberry candles and evergreen sprigs filled the air. The warmth of numerous fireplaces kept the home comfortable and inviting.

  Jack's mouth twisted into a slight smile, “You look lovely tonight Aislin.”

  “Thank you, Jack. You look very handsome as well.” He did look very nice in his powder blue silk dress clothes, and I imagined how lovely he and Abigail would look together. She would love to see Jack in such fine attire.

  We stopped at the cloakroom, and Jack hung my cloak and his jacket next to each other. The narrow room was crammed tight with at least one hundred cloaks and coats. The sweet sound of the violin was pulling us towards it, and through the archway that led into the main hall of the home, we could see couples dancing the minuet.

  Jack offered me his arm, but as we went to move into the ballroom, a hand pulled hard on my wrist and yanked me backwards. Jack stopped abruptly as Zachariah and his band of conspirators stepped out of the shadows.

  “Well, my dear Aislin, you look lovely tonight,” he said in a mocking tone, while leaning in to kiss me.

  I pulled back and slapped his face as hard as I could. I glanced back and noticed that Alden and Clement were restraining Jack.

  Remembering that ever since they were tots these boys always traveled in a pack of four, I observed that someone was missing,

  “Where is Jeremiah?” I demanded, recollecting how, in his own way, Jeremiah had stood up for me at the tavern.

  Zachariah stammered at the question, “He had an accident,” he replied abruptly.

  At these words, Clement and Alden seemed to winced, and a faint memory tugged at my mind. A sickening feeling swept over me as I began to remember my dream from the other night.

  “What did you do to him?” I pressed, as Zachariah tried to pull me away from the gaze of party guests.

  “Well, let's just say that we had a disagreement and in the end . . . I won,” he said flatly.

  I turned my attention to Alden. He was looking away from me, refusing to make eye contact.

  “How could you hurt him?” I choked out the words in a disgusted tone.

  The boys twitched, but did not release their grip on Jack.

  “We didn't mean to . . . it was his own fault,” Alden growled back at me.

  “Shut up,” Zachariah hissed at his friends.

  “Let us go,” I yelled.

  He was determined to get me outside, and was not loosening his hold on me. The music and the crowd had sufficiently drowned out my screams. No one was going to help us.

  Zachariah turned his attention to Jack, “So you too are in pursuit of my sweet Aislin's hand?” hatred seeped through his words.

  Jack did not reply. Instead he struggled hard against the two boys that held him in place.

  “You should know Jack, that our precious Aislin in not pure. No, see I have already had her. She is mine.”

  “Liar!” I snapped at him, “I would never give myself to you. I would rather die then have your vileness near me!” I did not even care who heard, “Now let us go!” I bellowed.

  Zachariah leaned his cheek upon my head and wrapped his still bandaged hand around my corset. “No, no Aislin. I think it is a much better idea for you and me to take a walk in the woods. You remember how much fun that can be, don't you?”

  He took his free hand and brushed my neck, his fingers landing on my necklace. My vision from Samhain came back to me, of him pulling my necklace from me, and it shattering on the floor, the magic protection broken.

  I felt panicked, but I thought of all I had learned at Martha's in the past few days. I recalled that Zachariah always carried a flint in his pocket. I concentrated o
n it and then started to smell something burning.

  Zachariah yowled in pain as he realized his breeches were on fire, he and his friends relinquished their grips, and went to pat out the smoke. As they did so, Jack and I seized the opportunity to escape into the crowd.

  “Just remember Aislin, you are mine and I would warn you to not go about dancing with anyone else tonight,” he called after me, as we fled into the ballroom.

  “What happened back there?” Jack asked, wide eyed and looking to me for answers.

  “Oh, I uhh . . .” but it did not matter. I did not have to finish my sentence. Jack's gaze was transfixed on the dance floor, as was mine. There, in the midst of dancers, was Abigail with her new husband.

  Amongst the beauty of the scene before us, of the women in their colorful gowns twirling like flowers upon a still pound, amongst the men in their finest clothes and the sound of the sweet instruments, they appeared as complete opposites. He looked as old as she did young, and he looked as miserable as she did happy. She was wearing a beautiful pink and cream silk gown. He was in royal blue silk with gold trim and lace coming up at the collar. I thought of Greer's comments regarding this man, and I knew he was right. Indeed, Sutphin looked very much like a captain of a pirate ship.

  I watched as he forcefully led Abigail across the dance floor, pushing and pulling her in harsh maneuvers as though she was a rag doll. Her focus was on ensuring that everyone noticed them, while he seemed to be noticing every other woman that passed by. Finally, Abigail saw us, and her expression went for pompous to outright rage.

  I had not even thought of the way Abigail would react to seeing Jack and I together. After all, it was not as if we were interested in each other.

  The minuet ended, and they went back to the table where the rest of the Marthalers sat. She glanced back in our direction. Her cheeks flushed bright red in anger and then she pulled her attention away and ignored us, doting upon her new husband. We watched as she went to kiss his cheek and he threw up his arm to block her, pushing her chair away from his and in the process, jolting her neck backwards.

  “Not in public,” he growled at her.

  Abigail cast her gaze downward and did not say another word. As she fanned herself, the lace from her sleeve moved upward and a dark purple bruise peeked out.

  Jack, seeing the marks upon her, lurched forward ready to tackle the horrible old man. I grabbed his arm,

  “That is her husband. There is nothing we can do,” I whispered, reminding him of our powerless state.

  He cursed under his breath, but said no more. He guided me through the crowd and searched for our table, which was across from the dance floor by a tall, rectangular, window.

  “Wait here,” he said, as he pulled out a chair for me, “I’ll get us drinks

  My mother and father soon arrived and joined us at the table. My mother looked stunning in her black gown and my father handsome in his dress clothes. “Are you having fun?” asked my father, as he seated himself next to me.

  “No,” I replied, “I want to go home,” but he was not paying attention to my protests. He got up to dance with my mother, who squeezed my shoulder as she brushed passed me.

  I looked up to see Abigail walking toward me and I braced myself. She looked incensed.

  “Hello Aislin . . . Jack,” she said in a short, angry voice.

  “You look beautiful Abigail,” Jack said with true sincerity.

  I could tell that even with Greer's spell, Jack’s love for her had not extinguished.

  She blinked a few times and then, seeming startled by his kindness, regained her composure, “Why are you two here together?” she blurted out curtly, her eyebrows raised in speculation.

  I reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Greer could not accompany me tonight, so he arranged for Jack to be my escort,” I explained.

  She was looking down at me as she stood over my chair, her hostile expression did not subside after my explanation.

  “Why is it that you have three young men at your beck and call and I am now tied to an old man?” she had a bitter tone to her voice.

  “Abigail, I have been so worried about you. Please, sit down and spend some time with me. I never asked for Jack to be my escort, and I did not want to come to the Ball once I realized that Greer would not be taking me. Now my only consolation is getting the opportunity to spend time with you, so please be kind.”

  Abigail looked at Jack for verification.

  “She only found out that I was her escort as her father placed her in the carriage next to me,” he said.

  Abigail then sat down beside me and took my hand, “I am sorry. I should have trusted you.”

  “How is it to be married?” I asked.

  Jack tried to stay around and maintain interest, but talk of Abigail's marriage was too much for him, and he went off in search of his friends.

  Abigail watched Jack move across the dance floor and then start to dance with a girl with shiny copper colored hair.

  “He is horrible. I hate him,” she said through a vacant expression.

  “Do you mean Jack?”

  “No. I mean Gillis, my new husband.”

  “I am so sorry Abigail,” I whispered.

  “You warned me. I remember how angry I was when you asked me if I had considered the prospect of love. I thought you were jealous of me. I was so foolish… and now it is too late. My life is forfeit.” She swallowed back her misery and I saw her whole body stiffen as her new husband moved toward where we sat.

  “You must be Aislin Collins,” Sutphin simpered, while taking my unwilling hand and kissing it.

  “Yes sir, I am. It is nice to meet you. Congratulations on your marriage,” I said politely.

  I decided right away that I would do nothing to create any grief for Abigail.

  “Well, now I understand what all the talk is about. You are a very sought after young lady Aislin.”

  His features were even harsher then I had remembered from the tavern. His skin looked as weathered as an old piece of leather, his teeth were dark and his eyes, almost yellow in coloration, revealed his sinister nature.

  His presence made me uneasy, but I tried to keep my composure, “People are very kind,” I smiled back at the old pirate.

  I had hoped that he would leave after the little introduction, but he seated himself next to Abigail, and directed his attention on me.

  “How old are you?” his voice was deep and gruff.

  “Almost twenty Sir,” I replied with a tone of indifference.

  “Your gown is lovely. The color goes beautifully with your complexion,” he was leering at me as he spoke, and I felt a shutter run down my spin.

  “Abigail's gown is stunning on her. Wouldn't you agree?” I asked him with harshness in my voice.

  He smiled at me as though I had gotten the upper hand in his little game, “Yes, her gown fits her well.”

  From behind Sutphin's shoulder, I saw Zachariah approach.

  “Hello Gillis,” he said in a formal tone.

  “Ah, Zachariah, I was just getting to know your Aislin. She is everything you said and more, in fact . . . you have my full support,” he then gave Zachariah a glance that was supposed to be just between them.

  “Well Aislin, would you like to dance with me?” Zachariah asked in a confident tone, as he held out his hand for me to take.

  “No.”

  At my answer, his face turned bright red. Sutphin started laughing at my bluntness and the boy’s embarrassment. This was too much for Zachariah to endure and he pulled me out of my chair and dragged me onto the dance floor, pulling me tightly against him.

  “Why can you not understand that I do not like you?” I said, before I took his bandaged hand and squeezed it until he screamed and released me.

  “We are not done,” he roared, as I turned back toward my table.

  I watched as Mr. and Mrs. Marthaler met the boy on the dance floor and examined his damaged hand. They babied him so much that it
was surprising he was not carted around by a wet-nurse. The three of them stood on the floor in the way of all the dancers, as they tended to his hand and then glared at me. In turn, I smiled and waved back.

  Back at the table, Abigail sat silently as Gillis drank wine and ate. Apparently, he had invited himself to stay at my family's table for the evening.

  When I saw Sutphin was still there, I turned again, looking for somewhere to be alone. That was when I saw Greer. He walked through the doorway and all eyes were upon him. His dark hair pulled back, it was curly and wavy and did not lay flat like the other men’s’ did. He was in black dress breeches and a black jacket. His ensemble was not overdone or frilly like the others. He was the envy of all that cast their eyes upon him. His beautiful hazel eyes caught mine and held me in his gaze.

  “Greer,” I breathed, as he approached me.

  He took my hands in his and kissed them, “You are enchanting, Aislin.”

  “You look wonderful,” I took his arm. “I thought you were not going to come tonight. I was just about to find a way to go home.”

  Greer smiled down at me, “I told Jack he was to be your escort, not your fiancé. I guess he neglected to inform you that I would be arriving late?”

  I nodded in reply.

  “I apologize for my delay . . . I had some tracking to do before I arrived.”

  He surveyed the crowd as he pulled me onto the dance floor. Then a reel began to play, and he spun me around and around in his arms.

  “Now this is the kind of music we grew up with,” he laughed, as we twirled across the floor.

  Within an instant, my whole night had changed from being a somber and horrible event, to being magical. We danced and danced. He taught me old dances that I knew in another lifetime, and dances that were currently all the rage in Europe—and at all times, we were together.

  Finally, I was so winded that he brought me back to the table where Abigail and Gillis still sat. Gillis was leering at all the women that passed by, as Abigail looked down at her feet. I flopped down in a chair as Greer seated himself at my side and poured a glass of wine for each of us.