Realm of Darkness

by C F Dunn

  “We could ask them not to,” Ellie suggested tentatively and without conviction.

  Joel, transformed by his dress uniform, grunted, “Tell them, more like.”

  Henry shook his head. “I don’t think either will work. Dad, what did you do when you married Mom?”

  “I wasn’t so concerned then as now. We had just the one photographer and not many shots were taken. Anyway, the plates were, er… accidentally broken and only the one survived.” I knew the one; he had kept it with him always – a little tattered photograph of Ellen gazing up at her new husband, and something I couldn’t now have. A smattering of disappointment must have shown because he said again, “Emma, I’m so sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter, but it won’t stop people wanting to have pictures.” I thought rapidly, trying not to chew my lipstick. “Perhaps if one of the family takes some photographs and we tell everyone we’ll send on copies, then no one else need take any. We can edit out what we want – digitally master some of them – delete others. Might that work?”

  “It might,” Dan nodded. “I have a camera we can use.”

  Henry agreed. “Worth a try. Dad, shall we give it a go?”

  We all looked at Matthew and he acceded with a touch of regret. “It’s worth a go.”

  We posed for shots as any other couple would as Dan joked to make us all laugh. When my father mentioned his surprise at the lack of an official photographer, I told him that Dan had wanted to study fine arts and architecture in his youth, and he seemed to accept my explanation, which I believe might have been more to do with the mollifying effects of the champagne than the logic behind my answer.

  Beth was doing her best to engage Maggie in conversation and I lurked nearby, thankful she hadn’t noticed the disdain on the woman’s face that had my toes curling. Maggie might hate my guts, but she could at least make some effort with my sister. Beth tried again. “What an unusual necklace. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.” Against the smoke-grey silk of her dress, the gold gleamed.

  Maggie fingered the snake’s head and her gaze slithered towards me. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, I do. I don’t know much about antiques, that’s more Em’s thing, but it reminds me of the sort of jewellery the Duchess of Windsor wore in the thirties – you know, like her panther bracelet. Hey, Em” – reluctantly, I joined my sister – “have you seen Maggie’s gorgeous necklace? You like anything old, don’t you?”

  I managed a smile for appearances’ sake. “It’s very fine.”

  Beth took a dainty canapé of lobster from a passing tray. “Mm, where did you get it, Maggie? Are those rubies?”

  The woman undid the tail from the snake’s mouth and lifted the necklace from around her neck. The articulated body coiled sinuously over her hands as she held it out for Beth to see. “My grandmother left it to me; it was her favourite piece. My grandfather had it made for her and she always wore it. She said it symbolized love. I believe it was a reference to Norse mythology, where the serpent Jormungand encircles the Earth for all time with his tail in his mouth. Only when the circle is broken will the world come to an end, as death breaks the bonds of love. Isn’t it beautiful?” A thin smile curled her sharp mouth, reminding me of Monica and the cold mist of the cemetery.

  “What a lovely idea – might I look at it?” Beth reached out to touch the head, but Maggie withdrew it and placed it back around her neck. Beth tittered a little nervously. “Golly, and I always associate snakes with deceitfulness. Emma, do you remember Grandpa reading us Poe’s story – what was it?”

  “‘The Cask of Amontillado’.”

  “That’s it. Wasn’t that something to do with snakes? Didn’t what’s-his-name plot to kill Fortunato and trick him or something?”

  I recalled Grandpa with a tartan rug over his knees, and my sister and I, all rapt attention, as the tale of deceit unfolded. “Something like that. Montresor was petty and vengeful and lured Fortunato into a trap.” Maggie and I stared at each other with undisguised hostility. It had become a duel between us, an unspoken contest of wills.

  Beth looked from one to the other. She took a hasty bite of another canapé, followed by a swig of champagne. “Oh, uh… that’s it, I’d forgotten. So your grandfather gave your grandmother the necklace, but you didn’t say what happened to him, Maggie. Is he still alive?”

  With a quick, slick smile, Maggie challenged me to intervene. “My grandfather? He loved her to her last day.” She dropped her voice and took Beth by the arm as if revealing some great confidence. “He would still love her, were it not for the duplicity of another.”

  Beth’s eyes rounded. “What do you mean?” Before Maggie had a chance to widen the gulf between us, she suddenly straightened, her eyes losing the sly look and becoming tame. I felt the welcome touch of reassuring hands on my shoulders.

  “Yes, Maggie, what do you mean?”

  Beth hadn’t seen him. “Matthew! Ooo, you made me jump. We were just admiring Maggie’s necklace. She said it was given to your grandmother to represent undying love. Isn’t that romantic? Perfect for today. Something to do with a Norse snake and eternity.”

  Maggie blanched under Matthew’s stare. “Really? I hope not, because according to legend, Thor will slay Jormungand before he himself falls victim to the snake’s venom. That would be a pointless reference for a gift – worse than pointless – it would be barbed. I always understood that the necklace was given to commemorate their first meeting.”

  Maggie’s interest quickened despite herself.

  “Their first meeting?” I prompted, overcome by curiosity.

  “Yes, I believe Ellen had gone to check the horses in the stable on her parents’ ranch – apparently they had been restless all day. She saw one of the horses rearing and trying to break from its stall and a snake about to strike, but she became trapped between them as she tried to release the animal. Her brother, Jack, had brought a friend to stay, and when they heard the commotion, they ran into the barn and killed the snake.”

  I looked at him sceptically. “What, just like that?”

  “Well, no, not quite,” he admitted. “Jack managed to get the horse out before it killed anyone, but the snake was big and very aggressive and it bit the friend before he could break its neck.”

  Beth wiped her fingers on a white damask napkin. “So the friend was your grandfather. It wasn’t a poisonous snake then?”

  “On the contrary; it was deadly, and he… fortunate.”

  I tried not to laugh. “Mmm, he must have been.” He smiled down at me. I had almost forgotten Maggie. Now she looked with puzzled disbelief.

  “She never said. Why didn’t she tell me?”

  Matthew said soberly, “There are some things that remain secret between husband and wife, Maggie. There are many things Ellen didn’t tell you; things she didn’t want you to know.”

  Maggie’s face soured, but Beth chipped in brightly, “So how come you know, Matthew?”

  “I was in the right place at the right time. Ellen could be selective in the things she revealed, and to whom. Now,” he said, turning on his heel and searching the crowded dining room, “it must be nearly time for speeches. Where’s my best man?”

  From my interpretation of their gesticulations and judging by the amount being consumed with an air of Bacchanalian self-indulgence, Matias, Dad, and Rob were eulogizing over the food. While Beth hurried away to check on the cake, Matthew took me to one side. “Maggie’s up to her old tricks I see. Don’t let her get to you. Just remember you’re her step-grandmother and pull rank if you have to.” The idea was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but laugh, and he relaxed into a smile. “Well, it was just a thought. Have you eaten?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I see. Perhaps I can persuade you to have a bit more before the champagne and toasts begin…”

  “Toast?” I said hopefully.

  “Toasts, Emma,” he said, trying to appear serious and not succeeding. “And I wasn’t planning
to spend any time cooking this evening.”

  Now that was downright tantalizing. I rolled my eyes in exaggerated delirium and he took advantage of my weakened state to snaffle several exquisite concoctions from a passing waitress to feed me.

  “OK,” I managed between mouthfuls, “I’m fortified. What’s next? Oh, yes – speeches. Rather you than me.”

  Matias’s hair had come unstuck and curled in rebellious tufts which Elena failed to subdue. She gave up and came over to me. “Do you know where you are going for your honeymoon?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “Come on, tell me,” she urged.

  “All I can say is that it’s somewhere mountainous.”

  There was a moment of confusion as Beth and Rob herded the twins and cautioned them to submission. Ellie managed to procure Archie, and he played happily with the pendant we had given her as a bridesmaid gift.

  “Mountains,” Elena mused. “The Andes? Alps? The Himalayas? Yes, yes, that will be good. Say it’s the Himalayas.”

  “Nope.”

  She would have tried to coax more out of me but Matias called for everybody’s attention, and she tutted as another tuft of hair liberated itself as she watched. Yes, I knew where we were going and it couldn’t have been more perfect in the circumstances. My pulse fluttered keenly.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Matias announced, and silence fell over the gathering.

  I have to admit that I hadn’t been looking forward to the speeches. Dad’s went on a little too long for comfort, and he needn’t have referred to the embarrassing incident with the head of music, the trombone, and the cream puff, although he did remember to say that it hadn’t been held against me. Nor did he have to mention my stubborn refusal to compromise on my career path and how it had led me to where I was today. I would have preferred it if he had refrained from enlightening the company about my experiment with my hair and the chemistry set I’d been given one Christmas, but I was grateful that, as he drew to a close, he turned to where Matthew and I stood together, and raised his glass to toast a beloved daughter and her new husband, to whom he owed everything.

  Matias, on the other hand, obviously relished the opportunity to apply his satirical wit, alluding to some eye-watering anecdotes with glee. He just about spared my blushes, and his comments, whilst acerbic as ever, were couched in terms of the deep esteem in which he held his friends.

  And then Matthew spoke and a deep hush fell on the room. In gilded terms, but without flattery so that every word counted tenfold, he thanked all those who had contributed to our relationship – for their support and their love – and it was clear from the faces of those around us that each person heard within his words their own name proclaimed loudly. He turned at last and I flushed under the intensity of his gaze as he thanked me above all others and, bowing low and raising my hand to his lips, resolutely declared, “My lady, my wife.”

  He went to fetch something to cut the cake.

  “Have you seen it!” Elena exclaimed. “It is like a fairy-tale Kremlin in snow.”

  My mind boggled. “The Kremlin?”

  “Da, come and look.”

  Already our guests were gathering around the table on which stood a cake of many snowy tiers and delicate webs of spun sugar, interwoven with apricot roses. “And you and Dad did all this between you?” I asked Beth when I’d recovered enough to voice my delight.

  “Actually, Rob did the roses; he’s a heck of a lot better than I am.” Beth swatted Flora’s hand before she explored the fragility of the flowers and gave me a wicked grin. “There’s one tier for each of your children.”

  I snorted. “Five children? I think not!”

  “Emma’ll make a great mom, won’t she, bro?” Harry beamed.

  Joel slid Alex from his broad shoulders. “Yeah, their kids’ll know all the kings and queens of England before they can walk. They’ll be the freak-geeks of the school.”

  Jeannie’s voice cut in. “Joel!” He put an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Emma’s cool about it, Mom, aren’t you, Aunty?”

  I screwed my eyes at him. “Less of the aunty, if you please.”

  Somebody I couldn’t see piped up, “I’m surprised the cake’s not made of chocolate.”

  Rob grinned. “Who said it isn’t?” Laughter circled the room.

  “We’d better find out then, hadn’t we?” Bodies parted as Matthew appeared brandishing the rapier that usually hung above the fireplace.

  “That’s an odd sword to cut a cake,” Dad commented with a hint of censure. “I could have lent you my dress sword if you’d asked.”

  I tucked my arm through his. “No Dad, it’s perfect.” The ornate basket of silvered metal incorporated a coat of arms I knew instantly, the pommel terminating in a lion’s head. Quillons curved either side like an elongated “S”, and the fine long blade, darkened with age and lack of use, was notched. I touched the roughened edge.

  “A musket ball,” Matthew said, watching my reaction.

  “It doesn’t look very clean,” my mother said doubtfully.

  “It’s just very old, Mum. About 1643, I should say.”

  Matthew smiled. “1638, or thereabouts. I’ve cleaned the blade and it’ll do the job.” A bit of an understatement, I thought, if it could sever flesh and bone. A peaceful end for such a weapon – how fitting.

  Alex’s eyes rounded like marbles. “Has it killed anyone?” Everyone laughed as they do when children say such things, but I noticed Matthew didn’t reply. Glasses were refilled and, as Matthew placed his hand over mine and together we cut the cake, a contented sigh emanated from our families and friends.

  Henry’s voice rose above the rest. “At this point, and with Hugh’s forbearance – on behalf of us all, I would like to welcome Emma to the Lynes family.” He raised his glass and his eyes so that he looked directly at me, and if I’d had any doubts about him accepting our marriage so soon after his mother’s death, I had none now.

  The cake was taken away to be divided and I touched Mum’s arm lightly as she directed one of the waiters. “Mum, please will you do something for me? Can you make sure that Mrs Seaton gets a piece of the cake – and this?” I slipped a little envelope into her hands.

  “Yes, darling, of course. I suppose she was a good friend to Nanna.”

  Yes, she was, I thought, and to me.

  Archie bombed around, slamming into people’s legs, laughing as Ellie pretended to chase him. Beth took advantage and had become happily sloshed as the afternoon wore on. We stole a few quiet minutes in between things to catch up.

  “Thanks for everything – for the dress, for coming to the States, for the children, for being you. I don’t think I’ve ever said, but I think you’re amazing. I’ve always looked up to you.”

  “Have you? Golly, Em, you’ve been drinking.”

  “No, I haven’t. I’m perfectly sober, which is more than I can say for you, so don’t go and forget this, will you? I know we’ve had our moments – all right, quite a few of them – but if it weren’t for you I think I would have gone off the rails, especially after Grandpa died. You’re so grounded, so solid… don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean – and I wished I could have been more like you, so… thanks.”

  She wasn’t so tipsy that she didn’t understand what it had taken for me to say all that. She looked around us in deliberate, exaggerated misperception. “Gosh, you’ve got all this, and you wanted to be like me? I’ll do a swap if you want?”

  I hugged her, regardless of squishing my dress. “You are priceless, you great wallaby, and you really didn’t need to laugh at the ‘all my worldly goods’ bit in the service, did you?”

  “No, sorry about that, but cripes, have you ever seen so much silver! I’m glad one of us is filthy rich. Dad was mooning about the family jewels again. I don’t think he saw the funny side of it, although” – she cast a quick, admiring look in Matthew’s direction – “I’ll bet Matthew’s well endowed… Ow! You didn’t need to do t
hat!”

  “Shh! I think I probably did and you,” I removed the glass from her hand, “have had enough to drink. You’ll be fit for nothing later on.”

  She giggled. “I don’t have to be fit for anything – you do.” She roared with laughter and was still laughing when I steered her in the direction of her husband.

  People were making those “time to go” noises. Lengthening shadows and mellow light predicted sunset, although still some hours away.

  “We need to make a move,” Matthew said, glancing towards the window.

  “I’ll get changed,” I agreed, and went through to the flower-scented hall. It was quieter here and the fragrant green made it an oasis of calm. My feet were killing me. I took off my shoes and made my way up the broad stairs to the room I had used as a guest.

  I don’t know what made me look towards her door – perhaps the deadening presence I always felt near her like a light-absorbing black hole, or the movement of air, like a breath. Either way I stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around. Maggie didn’t bother with a preamble; she launched straight in. “I know what you did that day in court.”

  I eyed her with caution, remembering our last confrontation in the study and what it led to. “Do you?”

  She left the confines of her doorway. “I know exactly what you did. Don’t think I’m grateful.”

  “I didn’t do it just for you,” I said. “I had to protect Matthew.”

  Sarcasm dripped. “Did you really?” She oozed resentment. Good grief, she resented me for helping her! A waitress carrying a heavy tray banged the kitchen door open, letting it swing shut behind her. Maggie sneered. “What did you think I was going to do that required your protection?”

  “You tell me,” I retorted, swinging one hundred and eighty degrees and heading for my room. A sharp rat-rat of hard heels on wood told me she followed. She put out an arm as I opened my door, blocking my way.