A Somewhat Unsurprising Development
I do not need to tell you that I did not follow my father on his errands that night, nor did I any other night for that matter. Whatever Mr. Newton thought he was dangling before my nose, he had been wholly overestimating my ambition. Had I been a boy of sixteen, even thirteen, I might have understood what he was offering me; but I was not. And the simple profession of pride or even, dare I say, love on my father's part was enough to keep me fiercely loyal indeed.
However, loyalty only goes so far, and while I was giddy at my father's words, I remained devoted to that strange lady in the cellars.
To my credit, I waited a week before venturing out in the night again. An entire week, each night speckled with dreams of her as numerous and beautiful as stars in the sky, and then I decided it had been long enough. I wanted to hear her voice again, I wanted to twine my fingers with hers, most of all, I wanted to learn her name. Then, one night, I waited what seemed an eternity after lights-out to leave my bed, then I pulled a pair of scratchy wool socks onto my feet and shuffled out toward the hallway.
It was as though some cosmic phenomenon had occurred, bringing each star into position. Everything was perfect. I encountered no one on my way to the cellar, only once heard the sonorous voice of one of the scholars talking about what seemed to have less to do with philosophy than the rude anatomy of whorehouses. I stole into the kitchens, and down to the trapdoor through which I descended into the lower cellars.
Again, the way was dark and ominous, but this time there was no music to guide me. Only thick, oppressive silence. My feet moved as those of the somnambulist, one before the other. Heel, toe; heel, toe. My body understood better than my brain where I was headed, I think, because without once thinking about it I found myself outside her door again.
At that moment, the absurdity of my plot hit home. Alright, so I was here, what was I going to say, anyway? I wished that she would speak, would save me from trying to decide, but I received no such boon. I crept to the door, and laid my face against it, the way I might have laid my head upon my mother's breast. I did not speak for a few long moments, until finally I could bear it no more. "Milady?" I whispered into the darkness.
At first, there was nothing, and I began to doubt that this was the right door at all. Then, panic, as I began to fear the worst. They had learned of our meeting, had stolen her away, perhaps even locked her in the Tower. I was ashamed and horrified, to think that I could bring such a sad fate upon the woman who had been the brightest light in my monotonous life. Just when I could stand my own dark thoughts no more, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes, I heard the tiniest of voices.
"You came back," she said, and then she spoke my name.
What had been a sob seconds before spilled from my lips as a relieved sigh. "I missed you," I blurted, in the uncensored way that children have.
"I missed you too, darling." I heard the rustling of her clothes as she moved nearer. I closed my eyes and imagined her face, white and brilliant as the moon. "It is good to hear your voice."
I did not tell her what it was like to hear hers. I feared that I would have been unable to stop speaking. Instead, I said, "I should have brought you a gift." It had occurred to me only in that instant, and I felt strangely guilty that I had nothing for her.
"Your presence brings hope to my heart. I could not ask for more precious a gift."
Even on the other side of the door, I blushed. "I didn't really do anything," I protested, then took a deep breath, more to fill the silence than anything. I didn't know what to say. What could I say to this mysterious lady behind the door?
Finally, she spoke, and it sent relief washing over me. "I want to give you something," said she.
"M-me?" I was stunned, and couldn't squeeze another word from my throat.
"Mm-hmm," she replied, in that comforting voice that made me want to call her my mother.
"Like...like what?"
"I want to give you my name."
At this point, my heart was hammering in my ears. If it was odd that I was so excited over so small a thing, that did not occur to me. I thought only of how very much I wanted that tiny piece of information.
And then, in an instant, the spell was broken.
Heavy footfalls sounded from around the corner. Someone was coming. "Go!" hissed the woman's voice on the other side of the door, and I managed to scamper around a corner in the opposite direction before bobbing lanthorn light swam into view.
I held my breath, attempting to be as soundless as possible. I would wait until the intruder had passed, and then return to the door and claim my prize. But then, I heard a key in a door and the low creak of it swinging open. I heard voices, one male and one female, and I knew that whoever it was had the door open now. She was gone to me for the rest of the night. I allowed myself to peek around the corner, and I knew with all certainty that I had remained hidden, because of whom I saw disappearing through the door and into the room with her. I had to cover my mouth to stifle a gasp, and as soon as the door slid shut behind him, I turned and ran all the way back to the trapdoor, and then hurried back to my bed where I lay gasping for air and filled with panic.
My father had unlocked her door. My father was there, in her room with her now.
However, loyalty only goes so far, and while I was giddy at my father's words, I remained devoted to that strange lady in the cellars.
To my credit, I waited a week before venturing out in the night again. An entire week, each night speckled with dreams of her as numerous and beautiful as stars in the sky, and then I decided it had been long enough. I wanted to hear her voice again, I wanted to twine my fingers with hers, most of all, I wanted to learn her name. Then, one night, I waited what seemed an eternity after lights-out to leave my bed, then I pulled a pair of scratchy wool socks onto my feet and shuffled out toward the hallway.
It was as though some cosmic phenomenon had occurred, bringing each star into position. Everything was perfect. I encountered no one on my way to the cellar, only once heard the sonorous voice of one of the scholars talking about what seemed to have less to do with philosophy than the rude anatomy of whorehouses. I stole into the kitchens, and down to the trapdoor through which I descended into the lower cellars.
Again, the way was dark and ominous, but this time there was no music to guide me. Only thick, oppressive silence. My feet moved as those of the somnambulist, one before the other. Heel, toe; heel, toe. My body understood better than my brain where I was headed, I think, because without once thinking about it I found myself outside her door again.
At that moment, the absurdity of my plot hit home. Alright, so I was here, what was I going to say, anyway? I wished that she would speak, would save me from trying to decide, but I received no such boon. I crept to the door, and laid my face against it, the way I might have laid my head upon my mother's breast. I did not speak for a few long moments, until finally I could bear it no more. "Milady?" I whispered into the darkness.
At first, there was nothing, and I began to doubt that this was the right door at all. Then, panic, as I began to fear the worst. They had learned of our meeting, had stolen her away, perhaps even locked her in the Tower. I was ashamed and horrified, to think that I could bring such a sad fate upon the woman who had been the brightest light in my monotonous life. Just when I could stand my own dark thoughts no more, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes, I heard the tiniest of voices.
"You came back," she said, and then she spoke my name.
What had been a sob seconds before spilled from my lips as a relieved sigh. "I missed you," I blurted, in the uncensored way that children have.
"I missed you too, darling." I heard the rustling of her clothes as she moved nearer. I closed my eyes and imagined her face, white and brilliant as the moon. "It is good to hear your voice."
I did not tell her what it was like to hear hers. I feared that I would have been unable to stop speaking. Instead, I said, "I should have brought you a gift." It had occurred to me only in that instant, and I felt strangely guilty that I had nothing for her.
"Your presence brings hope to my heart. I could not ask for more precious a gift."
Even on the other side of the door, I blushed. "I didn't really do anything," I protested, then took a deep breath, more to fill the silence than anything. I didn't know what to say. What could I say to this mysterious lady behind the door?
Finally, she spoke, and it sent relief washing over me. "I want to give you something," said she.
"M-me?" I was stunned, and couldn't squeeze another word from my throat.
"Mm-hmm," she replied, in that comforting voice that made me want to call her my mother.
"Like...like what?"
"I want to give you my name."
At this point, my heart was hammering in my ears. If it was odd that I was so excited over so small a thing, that did not occur to me. I thought only of how very much I wanted that tiny piece of information.
And then, in an instant, the spell was broken.
Heavy footfalls sounded from around the corner. Someone was coming. "Go!" hissed the woman's voice on the other side of the door, and I managed to scamper around a corner in the opposite direction before bobbing lanthorn light swam into view.
I held my breath, attempting to be as soundless as possible. I would wait until the intruder had passed, and then return to the door and claim my prize. But then, I heard a key in a door and the low creak of it swinging open. I heard voices, one male and one female, and I knew that whoever it was had the door open now. She was gone to me for the rest of the night. I allowed myself to peek around the corner, and I knew with all certainty that I had remained hidden, because of whom I saw disappearing through the door and into the room with her. I had to cover my mouth to stifle a gasp, and as soon as the door slid shut behind him, I turned and ran all the way back to the trapdoor, and then hurried back to my bed where I lay gasping for air and filled with panic.
My father had unlocked her door. My father was there, in her room with her now.