Disclaimer: I don't own it. Everything you recognise belongs to Disney. No infringement
is intended and I'm certainly not making any money from this story.
Summary: He almost dropped the candle. He almost cried out. There was a shape by
the window.
Author's note: Written for the Halloween Drabble Challenge at The Black Pearl Sails
Group, though I couldn't keep within the 100 word limit.


A Lavender Dress
by Hereswith

It was late, but he could not sleep. The house was empty and much too quiet with
Elizabeth gone. He missed the patter of her feet as she ran down the stairs, the whiff
of perfume as she hurried by and her laughter, he missed her laughter most of all.

Carrying only a candle for light, he went to the library, slowly shuffling his slippers
along the floor. Once inside, he stopped dead. He almost dropped the candle. He
almost cried out.

There was a shape by the window. A woman's form, tall and slender, clad in a kind
of garb none of his servants used to wear. "Elizabeth?" he said and his hesitant voice
rang out, loud like thunder in the silent room.

The figure did not turn.

He walked a little closer, rounding the desk in the hope of getting a better view. If
he looked straight at her, everything was a curious blur, but if he glanced at her
sideways he could see her quite clearly. Not her face, though, and his heart thumped
at the realisation. "What is this?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

The flame of the candle flickered and when the golden glow illuminated her dress,
every doubt vanished from his mind. He had given her that dress for her birthday,
many years ago. It had long since gone out of fashion, of course, but it did not seem
faded or creased. "Mary?"

Still the figure did not turn.

He felt faint. Joy mingled with fear was a potent brew but he persevered, certain
of what he wanted to say. What he needed to tell her. "Elizabeth was married this
morning," he began and there was a movement, a minute tilt of that dark head.
"She's all grown up, our little girl. And she's so strong, Mary. So beautiful. Just
like you. I think—she will be happy. No," he amended with a shaky laugh. "I know
she will. She wouldn't have it any other way."

Her slim shoulders shook, only once, but he stepped forward, acting as rashly as
a callow youth. "Mary!"

She turned as he reached her, in a rustle of lavender silks. An infinite cold pierced
him and then a sudden, sweet warmth. A breeze like the softest of sighs touched
his cheek.

The candle went out, in that instant, and she with it. He was alone.

Note: I took the liberty of naming Elizabeth's mother Mary in this.