by A. D. Koboah
I caught the drift of her thoughts. Her shift ended hours ago and she had gone home, spent a few hours with her mother, and then returned to the hotel when her mother fell asleep. I saw her preparations in her mind. She was wearing her best dress, a blue calf-length dress in the shapeless shift style that was common in the twenties. But she had been frustrated by her appearance in the mirror because the dress was two years old and already slightly faded. But it was the best she had.
I looked away from the fire and glared at her as she moved into the room toward where I sat. My gaze was deliberately intrusive as I looked over her tiny frame.
“Pretty dress,” I said when she was before me.
She beamed, but then the smile wavered, and she couldn’t be sure whether the compliment was genuine, or sarcasm. She seemed to shrink under that uncertainty.
“It is a pretty dress,” I said.
A half-smile lifted her lips, but her hands shook as she placed a bottle of wine and a glass on the table before me.
“Chef says this is a good vintage. I thought you might like it.” She opened it and poured me a glass.
“Thank you,” I said, watching her carefully as she tried to affect the air of a worldly, sophisticated woman.
It was almost comical because she was such a child from the perspective of my one hundred and ninety-two years on this Earth. At the same time, knowing this tugged at my heartstrings, which made me angrier as I stared at her.
“But of course, you have to share it with me,” I added.
She glanced up sharply, no doubt taking in my derisive smile and the hint of meanness in my gaze.
“Ah, no, monsieur, I—”
“Oh, but I insist.”
I reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her into the seat opposite. She started at the unexpected touch, but remained seated. I got up and retrieved a glass from the bar. I placed it before her, leaning over her and registered the quick intake of breath. I was making her uneasy. Good.
“Are maids supposed to be so familiar with the hotel’s guests?” I asked as I seated myself opposite her and brought the glass to my lips. She picked up her glass but did not drink.
“No. But sometimes you have to take a risk because there are some people who are so special you could spend your whole life searching and never find another like them.”
I was silent for a few moments, caught off guard by her frankness, but also the truth of the words. I could spend a millennium searching, but I could never hope to find another like Luna. I was so absorbed with my misery that I almost missed the surface thoughts beneath her words. The combination of the two brought a mean streak to the fore, and when my gaze met hers again, I felt her consternation at how hard it was.
“Really?” I said. “And what is it about me that is so special you would risk losing your job in order to spend a few moments talking to me?”
“You are not like other people,” she said in the same frank tone. “I have seen you drink and drink, yet you do not suffer the effects. A normal man would be dead, or at least very sick, if they drank like you. But you are untouched by it. And you do not seem to eat or sleep.”
I was silent.
“You do not have to worry. I am the only one who notices these things,” she continued. “The rest do not care to as much as I do.”
“So you risk your job to sit here and speak with me. Tell me something, if you lost your job and you were thrown out of your home, along with your poor sick mother, would it be worth the risk then?”
Her eyes were two large saucers in the dimly lit room.
“The manager is not here, and the others, they would not tell him, so I do not have to worry.”
“But what about me? Can you be sure I will not tell?”
“You wouldn’t do that,” she said calmly, her thoughts reflecting the certainty in her tone. “You are unhappy, but I still see much kindness in your face. You are not a cruel man.”
“Stupid child. You see this angelic face and build little fantasies around it about the sort of man I am. You may have guessed a little, but you know nothing about what I am, or what I am capable of doing. In that way we are similar.”
I reached over and grasped her chin in a hard grip. Although she was shocked, she didn’t try to move away.
“The staff here, they see the way you work hard in order to provide for your sick mother. How they admire you. But they do not know that you wished she was dead so you would be free of her.”
Her eyes filled with tears as I let go of her chin and sat back, taking another swallow of my wine. She gazed at me for a few moments, not bothering to stop the tears that coursed down her cheeks. The silence lengthened, punctuated only by her sniffles, the fire crackling in the grate and the occasional sound of footsteps in the hotel lobby. Finally she spoke.
“You are right. It was an evil thought. But I have only ever thought it that once. Since you know as much as you do, you must know I could never mean it.” She struggled with her tears. “I love my mother. She is all I have. In a few months she will be dead and I will be alone in the world.”
She got to her feet, wiping away the tears that continued to flow. “I am sorry to bother you. I understand you are unhappy and only want to be left alone. I am sorry.”
She turned and left the room, leaving me staring at the doorway, guilt settling over me like the heavy silence she left in her wake. I picked up the bottle of wine she had brought me. It suddenly felt too heavy in the darkened room. In a fit of rage and despair, I threw it into the fire. It smashed and the flames surged and roared as they lapped up the alcohol, a miniature of the furious rage burning within me at Luna’s disappearance.
I sat staring at the fire until it burned to nothing. I remained in the chair until the one within me dwindled to ashes of despair. Then I returned to my room. I noticed the mini bar was stocked with more than usual. There were plenty of little extras I had not noticed in all the months I had been here, little loving touches left by the little maid. It made me feel much worse for my cruelty and all the more alone. Her words resonated with me.
I will be alone in the world.
There was still a chance of happiness for her, whereas mine appeared to be lost forever.
As the sun began to rise, I packed my things, paid the bill, and left the hotel for the last time, leaving the little maid and the dreams she had built around me behind.
Chapter 35
Two weeks passed by before I saw the little maid again. I had settled into a new hotel and established the same routine as before. In fact I had completely put her out of my mind when I returned to my new hotel at dawn and saw her standing outside, searching the street. I was too far away for her to see me, and it would have been easy for me to quickly materialise in my room, pack, and wait for her to leave before vacating that hotel. There were so many things I could have done. I could have made her forget me, or left France. But I didn’t do any of those things, something that haunts me, because even then, a part of me didn’t want to let go of her so easily.
Instead, I took a few moments to admire the transformation I saw. Her dark brown curls were glossy and hung down her back. She wore a brand new dress and an expensive, stylish new coat. But the most heartening change was the disappearance of the dark circles under her eyes, the colour in her cheeks and how lifted she appeared to be. The little bird had blossomed into a beautiful woman.
“Henriette. What are you doing here on your own at this hour?”
She spun around, and I couldn’t deny the fact that the smile that lit up her face when she saw me warmed my heart. She immediately ran toward me and grasped my hands.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who did all this for us.”
She was referring to the anonymous benefactor who had given them a large sum of money, effectively securing her future. She was well rested now, as she no longer needed to work at that hotel and had nurses to care for her mother. They were in the process of moving out of the cramped one bedroo
m home they had been in to a house in the country. It was a quiet, peaceful place for her mother to spend her remaining few months.
Henriette didn’t wait for me to respond, but threw herself into my arms, her head against my chest.
“Thank you, so much. You cannot know what this means to my mother. So much worry has been lifted from her life and mine. She can die now knowing I will be cared for.” She glanced up at me. “I know I am selfish, but when Monsieur Durand came to us and told us someone had given us all that money, I knew straight away it was you. And my heart was so full, because it meant you cared. That you care for me.”
“It means nothing, Henriette. I will leave France soon. It means nothing. You have a chance now, so go home and forget you ever knew me.”
The joy that had brought an infusion of colour into her cheeks slowly drained away.
“But...but...you do not have to leave. I...I was hoping—”
“I know what you are hoping for, Henriette. Of what you have dreamt of ever since you saw me. But I cannot stay in France. I am searching for someone. I have been for years. I will be leaving to continue that search.”
“Another woman?”
I nodded.
She was crying now, tears flowing freely.
“My mother will be gone soon and I’ll be all alone. I don’t want to be alone.”
I moved closer and placed my hand against the side of her head.
“You don’t have to be alone. You have so many admirers, quite a few at that hotel you used to work at. You were just too unhappy to notice them. You will soon find someone, get married and have a houseful of children who won’t give you a moment’s peace.”
“But how can anyone else come close to you?”
“I...I cannot be the man you want me to be, Henriette. So go home and forget you ever saw me.”
I kissed her briefly on the lips and then walked away, knowing she was watching me get farther and farther away, the tears streaming down her face.
***
I was sure Luna was dead, for I did not believe she would disappear from my life for so long without word. I held myself together during those years with nothing but hope. But I had found nothing in all that time and the years were beginning to weigh me down. I did not want to give in to the desolation and Henriette offered me a way to beat it back. No one could ever compare to Luna, but seeing Henriette’s tear-streaked face and the innocent adoration she held for me had eased my pain for the brief moment I was with her.
So it was on a clear, cool night that I found myself at the little cottage by the sea I had bought for the little maid. I convinced myself I was only there to check on her and make sure they were settled in their new home.
I approached and stood outside where I observed them through the eyes of one of three nurses who provided twenty-four-hour care for the dying woman. She was resting in bed, her breathing laboured, face sallow, dark circles prominent under her eyes. Her thin grey hair hung down the sides of her head. Henriette sat by the bed reading to her. The glow I saw that morning at the hotel had diminished somewhat, but she was still radiant, if a little thinner. She read aloud until her mother fell asleep and then she sat and gazed at her, her expression sad and melancholy.
Henriette. She jumped when I spoke her name in her mind, her eyes widening in shock and bewilderment. Come to the window.
She sat completely still for a moment, and then placed the book on the bed. Her expression was still startled, but she got to her feet, and a few seconds later appeared at the window and peered outside.
A huge smile lit up her face when she saw me standing outside in the dark. She darted out of sight. I moved to the front door and it was thrown open a few moments later. She ran into my arms.
“Monsieur Wentworth! It is so good to see you.”
I held her face in both hands and kissed her briefly on the lips.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, holding tight to my hand when I was able to let her go.
“Will you come for a walk with me?”
Staring into her soft brown eyes and radiant face, I made a decision I have regretted over and over again.
“Just one second, monsieur.”
She ran back inside the house and emerged moments later with a coat.
We went for a walk and I told her everything. I told her what I was and how I was made. I told her about those long, lonely years in the wilderness...and then I told her about Luna. She listened, enthralled with my fantastical stories.
I finished with the reason I had made the journey to see her.
“Like you, I do not want to be alone. If you will have me, I would like to marry you.” I hushed her as she made to speak. “I will be with you for the rest of your life and I will always care for you. But if you choose to marry me, it is on one condition. You can never ask me to make you into what I am. It was a mistake to turn Luna into a vampire. I will not do it to another.”
She was beaming, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Oh, Monsieur Wentworth! Of course I will marry you, but...” She frowned and looked away in anguish. “But what will happen when she comes back?”
“Henriette, Luna is not going to come back. She...she must be dead, for she would not have left me for so long.”
Henriette still appeared unsure, as if she wanted to say more.
“I am yours,” I said. “If you will have me.”
Those words took her thoughts away from her concerns and she threw herself into my arms.
“Yes! Yes, I will marry you. But I want us to be married straight away. Today!”
I laughed. “Whatever you want, Henriette.”
It felt good to say those words, and I envisioned many more years ahead when I could say those words and give her everything she asked of me.
So it was with a light heart that we walked back to the cottage. I still grieved for Luna, but some of those dark clouds had finally been pushed away. I could only see them getting further away, for it would be many years before the inevitable.
That morning I dreamt of Mama. I saw her as I had the day Luna returned to me. She did not repeat the warning she gave me that day, but it was there in her silence and the sorrow that marked her face.
Chapter 36
A few weeks later, I married for the third time in a small ceremony in France. It was a bittersweet occasion, and I was reminded of the day I made the same vows to Julia and how different I was then. It was also difficult not to think of Luna, and how we had longed to be married in a church and be able to say those vows which our souls had pledged to one another but the world denied us. But Henriette’s sweet, radiant face helped me push those sombre thoughts away. She was my life now and I meant to give myself to her completely.
Immediately after the ceremony we left for England, as Henriette wanted to see the city where I’d spent my mortal years. Luna had never expressed such an interest.
When we got to London, I left Henriette at the house on Germen Street and went to meet my solicitors to take care of some legal matters. We were supposed to catch a train to the country, and spend a few days there for our honeymoon before returning to France to be with her mother. It was a cold day and rain threatened as I headed back to the house around seven. I expected to find Henriette waiting for me in the drawing room with our suitcases, but the house was quiet, cold and dark, the downstairs rooms empty. There was also no sign of the housekeeper.
I went upstairs in search of Henriette.
“Henriette, hurry or we’ll miss our train,” I said as I pushed the bedroom door open.
She was sitting in one of the chairs in the dark, dressed in a long, pleated white dress which had a belt tied just above her hips. She didn’t look up when I entered and her gaze appeared to be fixed on something by the window. I followed her gaze and at first I only saw a woman’s silhouette. But the darkness could not conceal her from my vampiric vision, and when I saw who it was, my soul soared.
“Luna?”
I am ashamed to say all tho
ught of Henriette fled my mind at the sight of Luna standing by the window. She was wearing a black dress, her arms and shoulders exposed by its V-shaped neckline. Its uneven scalloped hemline grazed her knees at the front, but hung to her ankles at the back. Her ebony hair was bone-straight and short, capping her head in dark, shiny waves. I felt a shiver of desire thrill through me at seeing her in the clothes of this age, so much of her gleaming dark skin exposed. She looked simply exquisite, like a living, breathing doll.
I crossed the room to her.
“Luna? I thought you were dead.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, and then brought them to her face.
At first she was rigid, but only for a second. She yielded and I kissed her on the forehead, pulling her to me.
It was at that moment that I heard a stifled whimper from Henriette and she came back into my thoughts. I turned and looked at her properly for the first time. She was sitting with her arms folded over her, almost in the same way they arrange the arms of a corpse, hugging herself against the cold in the room. Her hair, which had been pulled back when I left her earlier that afternoon, was now partly pulled out of its bun and wisps of it dangled in her face. Tears streamed down her face, and, to my horror, a livid red mark discoloured her pale cheek, a mark that had no doubt been made by a hard slap.
Her mind revealed what had happened shortly after I left the house. Luna had surprised her in this room. She slapped Henriette to the ground and then dragged her by the hair to the chair, where she was ordered to sit down. They waited for me to return.
I felt some of the joy and relief at seeing Luna cool at the unjustified treatment she had dealt out. I also began to feel apprehension as I noticed that although Luna’s body had yielded to my touch, her eyes had not, and her hate-filled gaze had never left Henriette. In her right hand, she held a bunched up item of clothing; it looked like Henriette’s wedding dress. In Luna’s other hand was a long, sleek dagger.
