“So will you,” he replied. “What is the punishment for girls who wander by the lake at night?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out.” I began to walk away.
“Don’t go yet,” he said. His voice was soft and pleading and I hesitated. “I’m not used to asking for things. But I’m asking now. Please stay. I just want to talk to you.” He came up behind me and wrapped his thick coat around my shoulders. The warmth of his body still clung to the heavy fabric. The strangest feeling that I had known him before, long ago, swept over me. For one crazy moment I wanted to sink into his arms and lose myself totally in him. But I pulled away and turned around to face him, trying to ignore his strange, compelling beauty.
“What happened that night when I cut my hand?” I demanded. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
“To see you,” he replied. “I’ve been waiting for you, girl from the sea. I think I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”
“How…how do you know I come from the sea?”
“I saw it in your face; that’s all.” His eyes held mine in their gaze, like a magician.
“What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you ever seen something that other people can’t?”
“Of course not,” I began, then stopped, remembering my “vision” of the old schoolroom and the girl in white. “I don’t know,” I said, confused. “Maybe in dreams.”
“One person’s dream is another’s reality.”
“But I cut myself. You touched the glass, and then it was mended. That wasn’t a dream.”
He walked abruptly to the edge of the lake. “It was nothing.”
“But—”
“Honestly, it was nothing. I just pulled an old trick on you, a stunt; that’s all. I wanted to impress you. To please you.”
“Why?”
“I behaved like an arrogant idiot when we first met. Then you were so upset over that photograph and I wanted to do something for you.” His voice sank low. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you care for and have nothing left but their image.” He began to cough, a hoarse sound that seemed to rack his whole body.
“Are you ill?” I asked, stepping closer to him.
“No…no…I’m getting better.” The coughing fit subsided. “I’m not ill. I’m just tired. I’m tired of being alone, Evie.”
“So am I,” I said blankly. The silence hung between us, and our eyes met. I felt as though he could see right into me, as though we could look at each other forever and not get tired of it…. I dropped my gaze and moved away.
“How do you know my name?”
“It was easy. I’ve been hanging around the school since we met, hoping to catch sight of you, trying to find out all about you.” He suddenly caught hold of my hands and drew me to him. A thousand pinpricks swept up and down my spine as he begged, “Let me get to know you. I’m sorry if I frightened you; I never meant to. Please promise you’ll see me again.”
A voice in my head, a million miles away, was saying, Don’t be silly, Evie; you don’t know anything about him. He might be crazy. Be sensible….
I didn’t want to be sensible Evie any longer. Being sensible, not making a fuss, putting on a brave face—where had it gotten me? Stuck all alone in this dreary wilderness, miles from everything and everyone I cared about. But this boy wanted to get to know me. No one else at Wyldcliffe did. I looked up at him, trying to see into his mind.
“What’s your name?”
He hesitated, as if searching for something from far away.
“My name is Sebastian.” He held my hand even tighter. “Please say yes.”
“Yes,” I said simply. “Yes, I promise.”
His pale face flooded with a smile as joyful as sunshine. Gently he turned my hand over and pressed his lips on the almost invisible scar.
“Tomorrow night, then.”
I didn’t reply. His coat fell from my shoulders and I fled, not knowing how I got back into my bed, knowing only that my heart sang with every step I took.
The next day flew by. Everything in school was just as dull as before, but now I had a secret, like a delightful dream. Now there was a voice in my head keeping me company, the voice of a hollow-cheeked boy with mocking blue eyes. He seemed to be with me wherever I went that day, talking to me, teasing me, guiding me. When I hesitated over the way back to the classroom from the school library, I heard him say, It’s the left turn, Evie. For the first time since arriving at Wyldcliffe I didn’t feel alone.
It couldn’t last. When I got into bed that night, the impossibility of seeing Sebastian again crowded in on me. I had gotten away with one reckless hour of wandering about on the school grounds, but it wasn’t safe to do it again.
But you said you would meet him tonight. You promised. Just one more time, I argued with myself.
It’s too risky, my rational self answered back. You’ll get caught; you’ll get expelled.
I won’t! I’ll be so careful.
He might not even be there.
I knew he would. All I had to do was slip down the back stairs and I could be with him again.
Don’t do it, Evie. Be sensible.
My sensible side won the argument, of course. I wasn’t the kind of girl who broke the rules for the sake of a handsome face. Bashing my pillow into shape, I closed my eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
In my dream, Miss Scratton was furiously angry with me for something that I had done, but I wasn’t sure what it was. She was pacing up and down in her classroom while I waited miserably for her to pronounce my punishment. Suddenly the sound of thunder rumbled all around us, and the walls began to shake. Then I knew that it wasn’t thunder, but horses galloping. The white walls cracked and crumbled, and I saw an army of horsemen pouring across the grass outside like a dark shadow. One of them wheeled around and it was Sebastian. I leaped up behind him on his black horse, and we sprang away, leaving Miss Scratton behind. She screamed, “Your necklace, Evie! Give me your necklace!” But I laughed at her and held on to Sebastian’s taut body as we galloped freely over the moonlit moors. I laid my head against his shoulder, and our hair streamed out and mingled in the wind. Then the dream changed. We were all alone under the stars, and he breathed my name as he bent down to kiss me.
I woke and didn’t recognize where I was. Slowly I remembered and knew what I had to do. Pulling the thin drape to one side, I felt carefully for my shoes. Then I headed straight for the narrow stairs that would lead me to freedom.
Thirteen
THE JOURNAL OF LADY AGNES, OCTOBER
19, 1882 I am like a bird that has been set free. The Mystic Way is beautiful, like something from a long-forgotten story of stars and fire and ice. We are both making new discoveries every day, and although for some reason S. still cannot reach out to the Sacred Fire, he astonishes me with what he has so quickly mastered. Yesterday he startled me by taking my little mirror and breaking it to pieces, then returning it to me as new, appearing to control the very atoms with his mind.
I would have not believed this if I had not seen it with my own eyes, but now my ideas of what is possible have been overturned. I cannot explain this strange magic. It is enough for me to be able to see it and do it. I spend hours studying the pages of the Book, and S. is translating those passages of Latin and Greek that hide further mysteries. But one chapter I could read easily enough myself: “To Bring Light into a Darke Place.” I could not resist this and had to try my skill.
Late last night, when Mama believed me to be in bed, I locked the door of my room and prepared my altar once more. Then I drew the Circle and made the signs, whispering the secret words from the Book. All at once the candles guttered out, and I was surrounded by darkness so black and thick that I could almost taste it in my throat. I began to be afraid that I had done something wrong, for this was not what I had expected at all, but I persevered, chanting the incantations and focusing my mind. I heard the wind blowing over the moors and the sound of the distant sea,
and finally a light blazed out in the blackness. This would have been astonishing enough, but there was more to it than that.
The light seemed to be totally at my command. It took whatever form my fancy gave it, at first like a star, but then it became a brilliant bird with glowing blue wings, then a fiery flower with vivid petals, then a pale round moon of silver. I laughed and caught the light in my hand, then released it like a cloud of shimmering yellow butterflies….
There can be no harm, surely, in something so beautiful?
Fourteen
S
ebastian was beautiful, just as I had remembered.
“Have you always lived in Wyldcliffe?” I asked as we sat by the lake, with the ruins tall and dark behind us.
“All my life. Nineteen years.” A shadow flickered across his face. “But you have no idea how long it really seems.”
“Where do you live? In one of those cottages in the village?”
“My family has an old house on the other side of the valley,” he said evasively. I guessed that he didn’t get along with his parents and didn’t want to talk about them. He stood up and walked about restlessly. “I know every inch of this valley, every hill, and every path to the top of the moors. Oh, Evie, I long to see something new!”
“But you said that you’ve been traveling in India and Morocco,” I said. “You’ve seen lots of places.”
“Not enough.”
“But you’ll be doing new things when you go to college.” He had told me he had a place to study philosophy the following year.
“Oxford! A whole lot of eager schoolboys showing off about who can make clever remarks and drink the most beer. That’s not what I want.” He flung himself back onto the ground, then made an effort to speak more calmly. “The only thing I ever wanted was to study the very heart of things, to know the immortal truths.”
“You don’t want much, then,” I teased. “To know the truth, the meaning of life…aren’t you being a bit ambitious?”
He stared into the water’s depths. “I won’t go to Oxford.”
“But won’t your parents be disappointed if you drop out?”
“No,” he replied. “Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s not talk about it.” He gave me a dazzling smile. “I want to talk about you. I want to hear all about your life: what you do, what you think, what you eat for breakfast, what you were like when you were five years old.”
I laughed. “Plump and bossy, with crazy red curls.”
“Irresistible.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
It was good to see him laugh. “Oh, Evie,” he said, “you make me feel well again.” It was true that he didn’t seem quite as pale and tired as before. He looked at me wonderingly, as though trying to memorize my face. “I can’t believe you’re really here, talking to me. You’re so…different….”
“From what?”
“Different from all the other girls I know.” He smiled. Then the light faded from his eyes. “I am not very good with…relationships.”
I didn’t want to admit that I had never even had a relationship. I knew nothing about boys or dating. There had been boys at school and at the beach, of course, noisy and scruffy, only into surfing and loud music and motorcycles. They had never interested me. But Sebastian wasn’t like them. His idiosyncratic way of dressing, his intense gaze, his precise manner of speaking—everything about him fascinated me.
“What do you mean, not very good at relationships?” I asked. “Why not?”
“I spoil things.” He frowned. “If something is less than perfect, I destroy it.”
“Is that what happened—I mean, you said you had lost someone….” I searched for the right words. “Someone you cared about, you said. Did it go wrong because of that?”
“You could say that.”
I made myself ask the question: “So, who was she?”
“Let’s forget it. It is all over.” He got up and walked to the edge of the lake, then turned and looked at me, his eyes as blue and bright as a summer’s day. “I just want to think about being here with you. Come on; I want to show you something.”
I couldn’t help wondering about the girl he didn’t want to discuss as he led me away from the lake. I wondered if she’d been heartbroken when they had split up. And where was she now? I tried to let go of it. It wasn’t important. Nothing mattered but this moment.
We walked under the arches of the ruined chapel. At the far side of the chapel, beyond a smooth lawn, was an overgrown thicket of shrubs. A low sign had been set up, which read, NO TRESPASSING.
“Another rule for you to break.” Sebastian grinned. “Are you willing?”
I had a faint pang of conscience about what Dad would say if he could see me. I could almost hear Mrs. Hartle’s voice sneering, Wandering in the grounds at night with a local boy, Evie? This is hardly what we expect from our Wyldcliffe girls. But the last person I wanted to listen to was Mrs. Hartle.
“Sure.” I grinned back.
We crashed through the tangled growth, snapping twigs and scratching ourselves on the brambles. I was just thinking that it was like the prince arriving to wake Sleeping Beauty, when I saw a mass of rock looming over me in the darkness. A gaping black slit in the rock looked like the mouth of a tomb.
“We’re not going in there, are we?”
Sebastian saw the anxious look on my face. “There’s nothing to worry about, Evie. I’ll be with you.” He took my hand and suddenly all the world seemed safe. I had never felt so right, so wonderfully alive.
We entered the gloomy cavern. I heard the sound of running water; then Sebastian let go of my hand and fumbled to strike a match. A gleam of light flickered over the damp, shining walls.
“Look!”
I lifted my eyes in wonder. The walls of the cave were not bare and rough, as I had expected. They were embedded with shells and crystals and pieces of colored stone arranged in intricate patterns and shapes.
The match went out and for a moment we were in total darkness. Sebastian struck another match, then groped in an alcove at the side of the cave, found a candle end, and lit it. The wavering yellow light fell on fantastical mosaics of flowers and fruit and wicked-looking fauns, all glittering darkly on the walls. In the farthest part of the cave a little spring gurgled around a statue of Pan, or some other ancient god.
“I love this place,” Sebastian said. “Don’t you?”
He seemed enchanted, like a little boy who runs onto the beach and claims the whole sea for his own. I didn’t want to admit it, but the cavern gave me the creeps, as though the glistening shells were hundreds of leering eyes.
“It’s…um…interesting. But what on earth is it?”
“It was Lord Charles’s grotto. The stones and shells were all sent over from Italy for him. This was his little indulgence when he built his house on the ruins of the old nunnery. It was the latest fashion in those days, an expensive hideaway, and now none of the young ladies up at the school probably even knows that it exists.”
“So, what was it used for?”
“There were picnics and musical parties. And there were other meetings here, darker and more secret.”
His eyes blazed in the candlelight. I couldn’t tell whether he was sad or angry, but he looked lost somewhere faraway.
“How do you know about the old days at Wyldcliffe?” I asked. “Sarah told me that Lord Charles and his family lived here more than a hundred years ago.”
“I sometimes feel as though it is all still happening. Can’t you see Lord Charles and his silly, snobby wife sitting here right now, admiring their expensive folly? And can’t you see her—Agnes? Can’t you hear her?”
He reminded me of Helen. Can’t you hear their voices? Why was everyone at Wyldcliffe so obsessed with the past? It seemed more real to them than the present.
“But I want to live now,” I heard myself saying.
Sebastian smiled sadly, and the knot under my ribs tugged again. He seemed locked into his own private un
happiness. I wanted desperately to be able to chase away the shadows that hovered over him. “You are right.” He sighed. “Now is all we have.” He looked at me as though waking from a dream. “I’m glad you’re here, Evie.”
“Good.” I smiled awkwardly. “At least someone appreciates me.”
“No, I mean it. You make me want to live again.”
Sebastian moved closer to me, touching the side of my cheek as gently as a feather falling on snow. He looked at me, yearning and unsure.
“Oh, Evie,” he began, “if only…”
“What?” I breathed.
“Nothing.” He hesitated. I thought he was going to kiss me and my heart seemed to fly on wings. Then he suddenly stepped away.
“Will you see me again, Evie? Please?”
I wanted to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him I wanted to see him every night for the rest of my life. But I didn’t, of course. I wasn’t that crazy.
“Sure. Why not? I’ll meet you by the lake tomorrow.”
For one moment Sebastian smiled his most glorious smile. “Tomorrow night. I’ll be there.”
It was only afterward, as I lay restlessly in bed, that I remembered that he hadn’t answered my question. How did he know so much about the Templetons? It didn’t matter, I thought sleepily. I would see Sebastian the next night. Tomorrow and the next night and the next…Helen sighed and turned over in the bed next to mine. I closed my eyes and tried to settle down. Tomorrow would soon be here. There would be time to find out everything.
I fell asleep, still feeling the touch of his hand on mine.
Fifteen
THE JOURNAL OF LADY AGNES, OCTOBER
27, 1882 I need to find out everything. I need to know how to make S. truly happy without destroying my own happiness, how to raise him up without degrading myself. He is restless and dissatisfied, and this casts a shadow over everything.
Immortal Page 7
