Quaint

Quaint

by

P. A. Matthews

         Doubt filled my mind as my vision trailed along the countryside.

         “Well, what do you think?”

         Daniel’s voice jolted my sight from the lush rolling hills. “Think about what?”

         He laughed at my inattentiveness. “The countryside—all that green, dotted with those cute cottages. Don’t you find them quaint?”

         I gazed across the countryside, once again lost in its beauty.

         “Gillian?”

         “What?”

         “Don’t you find those cottages quaint?”

         “Quaint?”

         Daniel sighed. “Yes, as in pleasingly odd, antique, or whimsical.”

         “Daniel, you are quoting Webster’s finest.”

         “Oops, sorry.”

         I looked at his lovely profile. Daniel was pleasingly odd, definitely unusual and a little too curious at times, yes, he was that quintessential being of quaint—except the antique part, although he was an old soul. My thoughts felt rattled and confused. “No, Daniel I’m sorry, I’m feeling a tad off today.”

         A small frown of concern crossed his brow. “I thought you’d like the drive. You know, since we started this vacation you’ve been somewhere else in your head, you’re disconnected from reality.”

         How did I tell Daniel he’d described everything I’d felt since leaving California and arriving in Ireland? What started as an anticipation of seeing my parents’ home seemed to have expanded to uneasy travel through an unremembered past. I slowly exhaled the breath I’d been holding. “I am enjoying the countryside, and yes, the cottages are quaint. Did I tell you I love being here, and that I truly love you?”

         Daniel’s brow relaxed. “Repeatedly. I never tire hearing that last thought though. I love you too; I want this vacation to be a happy one for us.”

         I nodded and refocused on the countryside that had filled my dreams for years. My parents had died while visiting relatives in California; with no one else to care for me at such a young age, I’d remained there, never returning to my origins—until now. I breathed the misty air while imagining what my arrival would mean.

         When we arrived, I realized only the surrounding area could be termed quaint, although my property did boast those lovely cottages. Daniel held me within the circle of his arms while I gaped in disbelief at the stone edifice rising among the vast fields of gloriously foliaged trees, overcome by the sheer enormity of house and timber.

         Daniel whistled as he turned me to face him. “No wonder your relatives never hurt for money, you own a freaking castle Gillian.”

         Indeed. A freaking castle. Smack in the middle of Irish nowhere. Anxiety crawled along my arms like fire ants as I fought for breath, a downright ominous emotion Daniel’s loving embrace couldn’t quell.

         A majordomo exited the castle and introduced himself; greeting me with such disdain it was as if I filled his nostrils with retched stench. Screams filled my head as the invisible army of ants ate at my flesh until I felt flayed by the hollowed eyes of Larkin and his hate-filled stare.

         Larkin led the way through the castle, briefly describing the rooms with tidbits of information he felt worthy to cast upon the undeserving. Daniel held my hand throughout the tour, his characteristic easy banter becoming as dried up as my throat. I could barely breathe as a thickness filled the air while my body sliced through what remained of my parents’ emotions. Something horrific had happened. Desperation heightened the need to run, I wanted out now, yet, the unknown cemented my feet to the stone while I became one with my past.

         I swallowed the bile threatening to spill if I spoke. Daniel’s grip tightened around my hand as we toured, as if he could provide his strength through osmosis. Sensing my unease, Daniel hugged me tightly, whispering a gentle pep talk in my ear. I leaned into his chest, inhaling his scent to my toes in an effort to fight the hysteria. Why had I come home?

§ § §

         Nights brought more disturbing occurrences, each building on the daily trauma of dealing with an unwelcoming staff and my aggravated mental state. Wind howled an incessant and eerie, discordant strain of melody throughout the castle—the sounds of the undead fleshing out and reclaiming their territory from the new owner.

         A nightly, oppressive challenge haunted me from the spirit world as they worked to force my departure. My mind struggled with the word departure—my parents had departed. Would I be the next on the dearly departed list? A howl cut through my insomnia-ridden brain, causing a physical shudder. I set my mind against the wind. No, I wasn’t leaving—yet.

         As weeks passed, each day melded to the previous and next as the spirits battled for control of not only the castle, but me. The desperation I’d felt when arriving was now becoming a dire situation in my head. I hadn’t merely passed the time while visiting my new home, but had put in a dedicated search for any clue connecting my parents and the horrible feeling I had regarding their lives here. The most perplexing observation was that there were no clues to find, as if my parents and their existence had been erased from the world. Erased or not, their presence still lingered as an inexplicable solid of phantom unease surrounding my life.

         The household staff continued showing their dislike of an altered lifestyle and me. Hatred seeped from them, filling the castle with another layer of oppressive malevolence, making my emotions near anarchy as I dwelt in the house that terror built.

         I had begun a ritual of sitting in the library in an attempt to provide my mind with the relaxed activity of reading. Today, as usual, the words remained unfocused on the page while I struggled for comprehension. Tendrils of cold encircled my head, teasing my skin with a clammy presence; I closed my eyes against the sensation, refusing to allow the building scream to escape my lips. The tendrils brushed my body with chilled sureness, each wisp of cold becoming more hand-like in its tactile taunting. Suddenly, the cold ceased its pursuit and warmth wrapped by body in a blanket of love.

         “Gillian?”

         I opened my eyes to find the source of that loving warmth. Daniel sat next to me, and then pulled me into a tight embrace.

         “Gillian, I know you’re unhappy, we can always pack up and go back to California; you don’t have anything to prove by remaining here.”

         I sighed as I melted into Daniel’s hug. The only person that hadn’t been disturbed by either the discontent of the household staff or the malevolence of the spirits was Daniel. His easy conversation had quickly returned, constantly filling my heart with love, always ensuring my survival against unvoiced concerns. I wasn’t sure if I was happy or afraid for him since he seemed to sense none of the spirits’ machinations.

         Fingering his wedding band, I tried to decide what to do. Daniel would accept any decision I made and never question my rationale if I wanted to leave. Just knowing he always had my back for support gave me the courage desperately needed to pursue whatever quest put before me. Pushing the earlier terror to a hidden corner in my head, I let out a shaky breath.

         “No, I don’t want to leave yet, there is something here that hasn’t been revealed. Since we arrived, I keep getting this nagging sensation something horrible happened before my parents left for California.”

         Daniel rubbed my hand as he spoke. “What do you mean, like someone drove them away from here?”

         “I don’t know, it’s just this emotion that’s sitting like a giant stone in my gut. I won’t be satisfied until I find out what it is.”

         He pulled my face until he could stare into my eyes. Something lay in his look that was troubling, and then vanished, as if it had merely been a shadow crossing his face.

         “What if you never find anything? Gillian, are you willing to give up being satisfied just because of an elusive sensation that could be nothing more that unease with your parents’ death? Now, I admit the staff is rather odd, but no one has lived here besides them for almost twenty-four years, perhaps they are as uneasy as you are with them.”

         Daniel always made things sound logical no matter how my mind ran to the illogical. Was the staff so unnerved that my arrival had interrupted their good time? Highly unlikely. It was more like me being at Daphne Du Maurier’s Manderly with Mrs. Danvers as my housekeeper, in fact, my time here felt as if I were living in Hitchcock’s film.

         “No, I’m not going to be dissatisfied if I don’t find something, actually I’ll be relieved. I suppose I’m just trying to sort through a lot of emotions. Maybe you’re right about the staff; I don’t want to think about them anymore.”

         Daniel smiled. “Alright. Why don’t we go for a nice drive down by the stream? We could have a picnic.”

         A cool hand brushed my face, drawing me back to the spirit world.

         “Gillian, did you hear me?”

§ § §

         By the third month, I felt myself consumed by the darkness dwelling within the stone walls of the castle. The shift from light emotions to dark, haunted sensations became an open battlefield with the spirits fighting in a new realm for ultimate possession of my sanity.

         Each day drew me toward a place I know craved—an unbalanced world of image and illusion, an altered and confused relevance giving me authority in my passive existence. I no longer felt the urgent need to know of my parents’ feelings, or what led them from here, instead, I was content to walk the rooms absorbing whatever wanted admittance into my mind.

         Daniel remained loving throughout my metamorphosis, easing me through the moments when I felt my universe cease. His coaxing me to the outside world and the beautiful countryside became a needed solace, an extension of his overwhelming goodness while the battle for my soul amplified. I looked forward with anticipation to him using the word quaint, wishing it would somehow describe my world.

§ § §

         We had now been here a year and were about to celebrate our fifth anniversary. Nothing had changed regarding the staff or their feelings for me. People accomplished their jobs, oblivious of the fact I owned the castle. I had been assimilated, as if I were just a daily bump in the road they trod, a trifling nuisance to overcome. I had never gained approval or status in their eyes and they were satisfied never to give me any.

         I struggled continually for sanity, trying to prevent the whispers of the residing darkened empire from complete infiltration. Occasionally, I would receive transient moments of clarity and wonder if this is what drove my parents to a foreign land and finally death. Somehow, the darkness made me able to cope with never knowing the answer to that nagging question. I drew comfort from the tentacles of cold wrapping around me with a possessive embrace

         Daniel loved me with an everlasting love, finding an ability to comfort with gentle looks and solid hugs. My love for him grew despite the madness eating my core.

§ § §

         Then one day, life changed. I awoke rested and with hope, the previous eighteen months of torturous burden lifted from my body as if I’d sloughed my skin during the night. For the first time since arriving here, I felt like singing and broke into a song.

         Daniel rushed from the bathroom sporting a foamy bead as well as a giant grin. He crossed to the bed and plopped next to me. “Happy Birthday Gillian!”

         I pulled his face to mine and kissed the man who kept me somewhat sane. I released his face and stared into his eyes. “My birthday?”

         Daniel wiped the foam from my face as a frown of concern crossed his features. “Gillian, you’re twenty-five today, don’t you remember?”

         I struggled for remembrance. I couldn’t seem to remember anything before today, as if what I had experienced was melting to another dimension and taking my memory with it. I couldn’t remember my birthday, had I celebrated it last year?

         Daniel fussed around under the bed, and then stuck his head above the mattress, giving me another grin. “I’m glad you’re feeling more lighthearted today. We’re going to have a feast to celebrate you special day.”

         I stared at him in disbelief. “The two of us are going to have a feast and the staff is going to prepare it for me to celebrate?”

         He dragged several packages from beneath the bed and put them next to me. “Promise me you won’t worry about the staff today.”

         Funny how I vividly remembered the staff and now envisioned them poisoning my celebratory feast. How could I not worry? My good mood plummeted.

         “Gillian?”

         Daniel’s voice thrust me back to the room. “What?”

         “Stop worrying. This day is for you, it’s going to be very special. Now, I’m going to finish getting ready and then you can leisurely get prepared for your day.” He disappeared into the bathroom, and then stuck his head back in the room. “Don’t open those packages until I leave. Promise me.”

         What was with all the sudden promising of things? I stared at the foam sliding down his neck transfixed by the white stripes. “Alright, I promise not to open the presents and not to worry.”

         “Good.”

         Fifteen minutes later, Daniel was out the door with an extra spring in his step. I leaned against the pillows still trying to connect the disappearing dots as they retreated from my memory. Even the concern about the staff became distanced as I brought Daniel’s quaint face before me. Quaint. I remembered that word and him asking me if thought the cottages that decorated the countryside were quaint.

         I smiled at the memory of so long ago. If Daniel told me not to worry, I would put aside my resistance to the idea and enjoy whatever party he’d planned. I attacked the packages with renewed hope, knowing my husband’s gifts would be good. I opened the first present and pulled out a gown of deep, rich deep blue brocade decorated with ornate trim, the other box contained handmade shoes of the softest leather with the same ornate decoration. I ran my fingers along both gifts and laughed. What type of feast did Daniel have in mind, something that revolved around a renaissance faire?

         Leisurely dressing in the gown that fit as if I’d had it personally fitted was disconcerting. As I pulled my hair into a crown of ringlets, I studied my reflection. Gone were the dark circles and lackluster skin, replaced with a fresh dewy complexion and rested appearance. How could one night of sleep change me so drastically? I slipped my feet into the shoes that fit as if I were Cinderella. That thought made me laugh aloud at my metamorphosis from char-girl of yesterday to the princess-like image staring back. Now, where was my Prince Charming?

         I descended the stairs, shocked to my core at what awaited me. Daniel stood at the end of the staircase in an outfit as elegant as mine, a brilliant smile decorating his handsome features. Lining the vast hall behind him were hundreds of people dressed in beautiful clothing of brocades, tapestries and velvets, their faces shining with genuine affection as I stepped into Daniel’s embrace. I looked into his smiling eyes. “Who are these people?”

         “Birthday well-wishers, I told you we are celebrating your birthday with a feast. Just enjoy the day Gillian.”

         As I began my walk, the staff genuflected, their countenances relieved of the usual anger dominating their expressions. Each step through the hall became more surreal as the mass of guests followed in the act of genuflecting. When we reached the dining room, I found it filled with tables piled with a vast array of food and drink.

         I looked at Daniel, whose expression remained steady and loving as he gazed back. His previous words surrounded my brain, blocking out every other thought. Just enjoy the day. I mentally shrugged. Why not? It was my birthday.

         The multitude divided, allowing me passage as Daniel continued escorting me through the room toward a large chair that suspiciously resembled a throne. An ancient man sat upon the throne, his wizened eyes staring with such intensity it made my steps falter. I grabbed Daniel for support as my legs lost substance. Daniel led me to the man, and then bowed. I stood transfixed, not understanding the significance of anything.

         Daniel squeezed my hand. “Gillian, you will need to kneel.”

         I stared at my husband with new eyes, ones unsure of his love. “Why?”

         “The ceremony can’t continue unless you kneel.”

         I slowly brought my gaze to the ancient man and felt my heart wildly flutter. I looked at Daniel again. “I’m not going to be beheaded am I?”

         He smiled his gentle smile. “No, sweetheart there will be no beheading today. It’s your birthday, remember?”

         Somehow, that tidbit of knowledge did little to relieve the anxiety crawling along my arms like those pesky ants had done the first day I’d arrived. The twitch in my lip betrayed the sureness of my smile. “Alright.”

         I knelt as the ancient man rose. A page stepped forward holding a pillow bearing a crown, I felt Daniel squeeze my hand, and then he stepped away.

         The crown was placed on my head as the ancient spoke. “Gillian, daughter of Semias, Master of Wisdom, and Niamh the Brilliant, you have withstood the tests of the spirit world. Your husband’s love has helped you endure the test of ridicule and scorn in this human realm.

         “While securing the marriage arrangements with your betrothed’s family, your parents’ lives were cut short, ending their reign. Great mystery still surrounds their deaths, and in time, we hope you will be able to begin the revelation of this mystery. A void was left with their passing, a void you will fill as you assume their kingdom’s rule. I now decree upon you the title of Princess of the Otherworld, the realm existing between human and the Celtic Underworld.”

         The ancient’s hands left the crown, and then placed Daniel’s hand in mine. “Rise Princess Gillian of the Otherworld, and greet your subjects.”

         Daniel helped me stand, kissing me with a hunger born of our enduring love. I stared into his misty eyes that reminded me of the lush countryside of Ireland, confused by the creepy pomp and circumstance of the moment.

         While I stared at him, I thought over the twenty-five years I could remember. I didn’t really remember much about my life with parents, and now I was to assume their throne in a kingdom I never knew existed. The weight of the crown on my head was nothing compared to the weight in my mind and lying heavy on my heart with the realization someone or thing had actually caused their death.

         If all this Celtic Otherworld nonsense was true, how was I going to unravel a mystery that the powerful faerie world couldn’t? I gazed at the people lining the room. Were my parents’ murderers in this room watching me receive my crown, waiting for an unguarded moment when they would end my life as well?

         A strange sensation ran through my body, a filling of something distant and mystical. The impact of what I’d heard suddenly made me dizzy.

         “Daniel?”

         “Yes Gillian?”

         “What the man just said about the Otherworld—“

         “Yes?”

         “This means I’m what, a faerie?”

         His smile spread across his lovely face. “Yes sweetheart, you are a princess within the realm of the faeries, you are what is termed a Sidhe.”

         “Are you a…”

         “What?”

         I swallowed hard as I tried to remain standing, my world spinning as I grappled with being princess of anything, never mind being the ruler of a phantom reality. “What are you exactly?”

         Daniel’s smile lessened a little. “I thought I was your husband.”

         “Please don’t joke, not now after all this crowning business. Are you a faerie, or this Sidhe thing?”

         “Yes Gillian, I am a Sidhe as well. We were betrothed at birth to rise within the Court of the Seelie through your parents’ kingdom. When your parents died, the court thought it would be wise for you to remain outside the Seelie with those who would love you and ensure your safety. Now, you have become of age and will assume the mantle of rule.”

         “Daniel, I don’t know how to rule anything. And how am I supposed to find out about my parents if these people couldn’t? I can’t do this.”

         The ancient’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Princess Gillian, daughter of Semias, you will be given guidance by those within your kingdom who have maintained its rank within the Seelie. You will not be left alone to wander the Otherworld without knowledge, however if you are reluctant to serve, someone else from the Seelie will assume the rule of your parents' kingdom and your line will forever end.

         “Please understand that whatever provisions made by your parents for their subjects will also end as a new ruler begins their reign. You will be given a fortnight to decide, and then your final decision will be entered into the Seelie Court. Carefully consider your decision Princess Gillian, to decline the rule will set you outside the Otherworld forever, never allowing you the assistance of those close to your parents, or whatever information available regarding their deaths. I shall leave you to enjoy the merriment of your birthday and return when your allotted time has ceased.”

         I watched the ancient leave, the page carrying the weight of the ancient’s train of heavy robe. Turning, I stared into Daniel’s eyes and sighed. Daniel pulled me into his comforting embrace and murmured loving thoughts in my ears as I allowed my eyes to wander around the room. Someone other than those spirits was intent on my demise, and the mystical sensation I’d received earlier was letting me know they knew who the murderer was. And why in the entire time we had been married, had Daniel never told me we were something called a Sidhe? My unease grew as I began to doubt everything I had ever trusted, including Daniel.

         I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of the man who had always kept me sane; realizing even though he might continually use the word to describe things, I would never find my new realm quaint.

The End

Word Count 3,789