William burst into silent tears and sobbed into her pillow, for that was all she did not have!
Agony streaked her heart every time she recollected someone (usually Schrodinger) calling her stupid, and she had no voice to speak! Her writing was also slow and clumsy. She and her master exchanged ideas occasionally, but he talked far faster than she could write, and soon he grew bored of constantly waiting and changed the topic to lighter
The end of their talk had been spoiled by his gushing about the church girl (William did not want to give the girl the dignity of even thinking her name), but it had given William a lot to think about. His story did explain so much; how he had experienced such profound marital bliss when he was young, and longed to experience it again. How he was fond of William because she reminded him of the daughter he had lost, although she wondered with despair of why he saw only a daughter in her and not a bride?
He himself noted the similarities between her and Richard; or at least their blue eyes and blonde hair. They had both also been maidens when they had met him; fresh young girls new to the world (William who had come to the surface from the bottom of the sea for the first time, and Richard, a cloistered sister who had been sheltered by her family and private schools all her life, and had met a strange man for the first time, without the deliberate introduction from her relatives or teachers), who saw him and fell in love with him; the first handsome man they encountered in their young lives.
If they were so similar though, why did he see William as the daughter and not Richard?!
And why did he still believe Richard had saved him? Surely he knew there was no storm when Richard found him, and that she had not gone into the water to pull him to shore? Surely he knew that Richard had not known his name when she met him, had not sang that song, and had not looked at him with love and adoration, but merely consternation and alarm? Surely he must have known that she was not the one that saved him?!
William had not told him that she had been the one to save him, because she felt there was no way to tell him without revealing that she was a mermaid. And she could not let him know she was a mermaid—a human's gaze was agony for a mermaid. When a human gazed upon them and knew them for what they were, comprehended their true nature, it was said to be agony; feel as though the human eyes were charring their bones, boiling their blood, scorching their skin, and singing their hair!
Okay, that last one was silly, William thought, but the rest was serious! (She momentarily forgot that a mermaid's hair was her pride and joy; considered more beautiful than her eyes, nose, lips, teeth and ears all in one.)
But still, a human's gaze was agony when they looked upon a mermaid and knew them for what they really were, which was why all mermaids avoided being seen by human eyes. Even the most daring and mischievous mermaids only mischiefed human things behind their backs, or before humans' dogs and human children too small to be taught what a mermaid was—but never in front of fully adult, comprehending human gazes. This was why most humans did not believe that mermaids existed, and most mermaids were content to keep it that way. None of them wanted to feel as though they were being tortured, boiled, and scorched alive by human gazes.
William herself had avoided telling the count what she was and how she had rescued him because she had been afraid that if his gaze caused her agony, it would be the end of her life with him. She was afraid that she could no more live beside him and enjoy his company if he knew that she had been a mermaid, than she could have before when she was a mermaid. She had gained a pair of legs so she could live beside him, to avoid the proverb, "A fish may love a bird, but where will they live?"
But she had also done so for another reason, and that reason was to hide what she really was. To hide the fact that she was a mermaid, so that his gaze did not cause her agony.
She had risked him falling for another, and stood by as he fell for another, because she had been afraid (desperately afraid) that all she had worked for would vanish. That the moment he looked upon her and knew her for what she truly was, she would not be able to bear the agony, and she would have to live forever with him looking away from her (which would not work, especially not when she did not have a voice, and the only way she could speak to him was with her eyes, her hands, and her body), or leave his side forever.
Yet, the more the count seemed to fall for the church girl, the more the little mermaid began to feel that she was losing him anyway, so she must risk losing him altogether to risk gaining him back.
With that resolved, William wrote a letter to the count… but she soon lost her nerve, and did not feel that she could directly tell him that she was a mermaid who saved him from drowning by swimming him to shore. So instead, she decided to poke holes in the obvious logic of Richard saving him (it had not been dark or storming when she found him, she had not sang a song when they met, she had found him on the beach instead of pulling him from the water, and so forth), and presented her questions to the count, asking how the church girl could have saved him when none of this was so?
But when William tried to bring this to his attention the next evening, he had given her journal a casual glance (as he always did) and confessed that he was not sure that Richard had saved him that night of the storm. In fact, he was not sure anyone had.
"It was probably a dream," he confessed, "Or a wistful fantasy that I had conjured to reassure myself that I was not fully abandoned or rejected by all in this world, and thus find a reason to live. Or perhaps it was a vision sent by God, telling me of the girl I am destined to be with; or perhaps an angel guiding my soul back to the living." He smiled, half-insolent, half-wistful. "It seems fitting that the woman I was destined to love so closely resembled the girl from the dream, the vision."
William was struck numb. Her brain was numb, and she could not even think of the words…
She hastily scribbled on the paper, She did not pull you from the water. She did not sing. Do you remember the song?
"Ah yes, the song," he remembered with fondness. "The song of the waves. I shall ask her about it on the morrow, if you are truly curious."
William was dumb-founded. Why would she be curious?! She just wanted him to realize that Richard was not the one so he would stop loving her and love William instead!
But she waited for him to learn, breathless with anxiety, curiosity, and dread, until he returned from some tea he met her in the next afternoon.
"I have asked her about the song, as you have requested, my little foundling," he said, "And you were correct to inquire about it. As it turns out, Lady Richard confesses that she did not sing a song the morning she found me (in fact, she has no gift for singing, she assures me), but that she heard what she thought was a song, someone singing, (perhaps that of a young maiden, she confessed at my urging, although she seemed doubtful), and it was following this song that led her to me."
He smiled, and it was pure rapture, "Further proof that we were meant to find each other. It could have been simply the song of the waves, or the sound of the sea echoing on the cove, or even some supernatural beauty (perhaps the angel that guided me from death) guiding her to where I lay. Such a song could be natural, or supernatural, but in either case it brought us together."
Frustration and violent sobs gripped William all at once. Did nothing, nothing prevent him from believing it was this girl he was meant to be with?!
Desperately, William scribbled, It was me.
He read it easily, and laughed.
"Yes, it was you, my little foundling," he kissed her forehead, "I found you on the waves just as Lady Richard found me so many moons before, and I knew you were meant to be mine just as I was meant to be hers. And I was proven correct, for you have been a dear companion and a comfort to me, ever since I had found you."
You didn't find me, she thought, Mr. Bernadotte did.
He regarded her with heart-melting affection, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "In many ways, you remind me of her," he said, and kissed her cheek and walked aw
ay.
William would have screamed and pulled her hair out if she had a voice.
The only thing that kept William from falling back into despair (or hurling herself out a window) was the Count's promise that they would move back into the country.
For the last couple of days they had made arrangements to move, and now it was time to go.
Despite all her sorrows, William literally dashed into the carriage when it was time to move to the new country estate. The Count laughed as he stepped into the carriage behind her.
When she heard the coachman shout and flick the reigns, and felt the first rattle of the carriage moving, and felt the sway of the carriage turning out into the streets, William felt that the dismal view of the London smog, black carriages, and closed in buildings was the most glorious sight she had ever seen, and she was so glad to be leaving it behind.
William' life in London had been very trying. She had never been used to large city life, and the noise, the hurry, the crowds of horses, carts, and carriages that she had to make her way through whenever they went to travel during the daylight hours, made her feel anxious and harassed. Over time, she had realized she and her master were not moving back to the country, and then she had made herself easy and got used to it.
If only she could get used to the smog and the cough. William hated the big city air; the factory emissions, the thick wet London fog... She missed the beautiful castle by the sea, with its delicious salty sea air, the wind blowing in her face, and the open fields and forests all around. She missed the sweet-smelling wood that she and her master used to ride through, and the flowers in the castle garden and courtyard, and the smell of fresh grass out on her master's lawn.
William' curiosity of being in a human city was well satisfied, and now she found she could not stand it. To think she had once longed for her master to bring her into town! Their first excursion had been interesting when she was in the city for only an afternoon. But after being trapped in the city for almost two months, William found that the city had long worn out its charm, and she was ready to go back to the country.
She listened to her master telling her about their new home as they drove up to it, and she could scarcely wait to see it.
"Carfax was the estate I first bought when I moved to England from Transylvania," he told her as the crowded London streets became wider and less populated roads, and then thin dirt roads surrounded by wide green country fields. "I did not wish to dwell in that residence because of all the memories within, but you seemed to need a country home much more."
William was very grateful for it.
She looked eagerly out the window as their carriage drove through a little town with a single parish (she was learning that was a way to judge how big human cities were) as they drove up to a large estate, surrounded by some 20 acres, in the small village of Purfleet. From what the count told her, Purfleet was a secluded village some 10 miles from the edge of London's East End, on the northern side of the River Thames in Essex. It was close enough to London to be near Society, but far enough away from the hustle and bustle. William wished he had brought her sooner.
The estate, Carfax (William found that the British always named their big country estates, which she found odd), was surrounded by a high wall built of stone. It had been abandoned for some years and was in a state of decay. There were many trees within the wall, which made it seem gloomy in places, and there was a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs. The estate on the whole was located adjacent to an old church on one side and a lunatic asylum on the other.
William stared in awe as she slowly drew out of the carriage, scarcely paying any mind to her master as he ordered the coachmen to bring in her things, nor the lady servants who fussed over her.
Many of the servants complained that the estate looked too dark, too shaded, and too dreary, but William felt rather fascinated. It seemed rather pleasant and sheltering to her. After being trapped in the packed, crowded, smelly, smoggy nightmare that was London, the sight of fresher air, wide open acres, trees and water seemed like paradise to her. Because of the beautiful spring weather, the lovely green leaves just made the trees seem sheltering and inviting instead of shaded or gloomy. The pond or small lake (William just decided to call it a large pond) looked fresh and inviting.
William felt strangely fascinated by the pond, and continued to look at it even as the servants ushered her inside. The estate looked more like the inside of their London flat than their seaside castle, but it was as spacious as the castle had been, and William felt more at home already. Although the servants led her to her room and told her what was what as they put her things away, William spent every moment that she could walking between the rooms, just because she could.
She was soon known as "the little ghost of Carfax," because she drifted listlessly from room to room without making a sound.
The truth was though that William only wandered from room to room when she could not go outside, although she went out every chance she possibly could. After being cooped up in that horrible little dark, dusty, musty little room in the tiny London flat for so long, she never wanted to be indoors when she could help it.
After spending so much time alone in the dark and the silence, she now felt that every rock, every tree, every bird, and every sound and smell seemed a wonder.
She loved spreading her arms to embrace the breeze. She loved the way it tickled her skin, and gently blew through her hair. Better still, she loved feeling of the wind running its gentle fingers through her hair and clothes as it blew through the trees and made music with the leaves. She loved walking around the grounds and feeling the soft ground and grass almost sinking beneath her shoes. On her second day out on the grounds, it occurred to her to remove her shoes, and then her hoes, and she loved the feel of the grass and dirt beneath her feet… between her toes.
The grounds were harder and sturdier than the sand on the beach, but also softer, wetter, and at times squishier and wetter than the wild hills that had been inland of the castle. It rained a great deal her, so the mud was softer and the grass was always wetter. After being trapped in a small dark room for so long, William adored the feel of the grass and the dirt against her skin. At first she only wiggled her toes, but soon she found herself feeling it with her fingers, then brushing her arms against it, then finally stretching out on the grass and rubbing her
Just smell the grass, the dirt, just like I dreamed they'd be, she thought.
After so long in bed, she had started to forget what the outside world was like, and sometimes wondered if her life in the seaside castle had been a dream.
The grass and mud left large green and brown streaks on her dress, which the servants later scolded her for, but William hardly cared. She was exulting in being dirty. It meant she was outside, and alive, and truly living.
Just feel that summer breeze, the way it's calling me...
She started to run the way the breeze blew, but stopped when she stepped into large puddle left over from the rain. It had been so long since she felt something so cold and wet that it gave her pause. The water was so cool and clear that she could see her feet and the tightly-woven basket of field grass, and she now saw that the grassy acres were filled with many such puddles like this (large and small) as well as the large pond. The water was ice-cold, and felt like a slap on her bare feet, and she could feel the cold spike up her leg. However, after spending so long in a room that was always warm and stale, she exulted in feeling the cold and wet. She grabbed a handful of water and splashed her face, then another and threw it over her head so it fell over her like rain.
And for the first time in... ever, I feel completely free...
She saw the endless blue sky and endless field before her, with the large dome of trees and many trunks underneath. After being trapped in a tiny little apartment where she couldn't go five steps without crashing into the wall, she felt the great space beckoning her to run through it, and the many trees becko
ning her to weave through them. And the best part was? She could.
I could go running... she thought, and did. And racing, and chasing, and leaping, and bounding, heart pounding, pulse flying, and reeling and finally feeling...!
Like I'm going to die, William thought suddenly, gasping for breathe and clutching a stitch in her side.
She was so weak and tired that she came to a stumbling stop and flopped onto the ground. She didn't really need to, but she felt so suddenly tired and her muscles so suddenly taxed that it was easier to lay down, panting. William had gone without any exercise (or even walking) for so long that she got way more tired much more quickly than she had in the past; she barely took fifteen steps before she gasped like a drowning fish and flopped to the ground like one. Plus she was wearing a corset and all her layers, which made deep breathing that much more difficult, on top of being as out of shape as she was. This surprised William more than anything, since she had expected to be able to run and be just as athletic as she used to be.
Seeing their master's ward suddenly running and then heaving her chest and clutching and falling to the ground just as quickly, the servants rushed to her side, fussing and panicking.
But even lying on the ground exhausted and panting and sweating, with her heart pounding in her ears and her cheeks flushed from blood, she felt thrilled. The thrill of running and feeling and being, was better than any teas or sweets in the world.
The women fussed and fretted over her as they brought her inside. She wasn't allowed outside for the rest of the day, and she wasn't allowed out into the grounds without an escort from then on, but William was happy and wouldn't have it any other way.
Of course, the servants only had to know that William intended to go out to make her take an escort, and she didn't feel she had to let them know. "The ghost of Carfax" could slip out without a sound when she so chose.
Trapped with a Way Out Page 109
