The weather broke spectacularly, at the end of a long summer of languorous love, meeting eyes, clasped hands, sweet words exchanged in whispers, secret messages and secret meetings. The rain poured down, pattered insistently at the diamond panes of the window; the sky was so overcast that the room seemed dark even when the candles were lit.
Constance wished the weather had not changed thus, so quickly, and on this day, too! It seemed an evil omen. The heads of the roses visible through the window were bowed down with the weight of the rain, the old stone walls were marked and besmirched by it. It was like waking from a long and beautiful dream to the same old harsh reality. Had it all been but a dream? She began to fear that it had, sitting here like this, so alone. It seemed that she was always alone, somehow or another.
She had waited for so long, and waited still. The dull pattering of the rain was her only companion. She was dressed for travelling, yet had nowhere to travel; her cloak lay over one arm, and it seemed she surely would not need it. Why did the one she waited for not arrive? Would she never arrive?
Perhaps she had never meant a word of what she had said. Perhaps it had all been but a dream after all. It was all ludicrous, anyway. Love! It was a thing for young people, for other people, a word that was often on the lips and rarely in the heart. She should cease her waiting. No one would ever know, no one but the two of them. What did it matter, any of it? She must leave this window, forget it all. Had she not sworn once that she would never love? She had sworn to dedicate herself to her craft, to its preservation, to its communication. She had thought it was all she needed. It could still be all she needed. She could return to her work, go to the library, think of everyday things, forget all this...
The rain ceased and the sun began to emerge once again from behind the clouds. Ray after ray fell over the drenched castle, and the drops of rain that still lay on the roses glistened like gold. The light fell in through the windows, and was surprisingly warm on her bare hand. Her skin seemed to turn golden with it. She glanced up, and the unshed tears that adorned her eyelashes danced before her eyes like rainbows in the light.
She should cease her waiting. There was nothing to wait for; she must have changed her mind, seen sense, escaped while she still could. All those words and promises had never meant anything at all. There would be excuses, perhaps: it was too sudden, it was not what she really wanted, they had rushed into it...and then Constance would be alone again, alone as always.
Unfinished work awaited her in the library; she should return to it. There was a lot to do before term began again. She had never been made for love; she had sworn once that she would never love. Yes, many years ago, worn out with suffering and striving for perfection, she had sworn she would never love, given up happiness in pursuit of higher goals. Why had she ever broken that promise? What had it been about that woman that had made her forget her oath, forget who she was, long for something more than just books, long for a different kind of magic...
And what had it brought her to? This, sitting alone, forgotten and unwanted. She looked again at her hand. Had that hand really been kissed by a lover only a few days ago? Surely she had only dreamt it, dreamt it all.
She should cease this waiting. The woman would not come. Yet she could not cease. She would never cease waiting. Even if she left this window, returned to work, let things return to normal, she would still be waiting.
And yet there - no, she imagined it. She dreamt, that was all, she dreamt. She would never come.
She was here!
Constance rose abruptly, threw the cloak around her shoulders, blew out the candles. She left the room hurriedly, too emotional to transport, almost running.
A battered old car stood outside the gates, though it seemed like a heavenly chariot to her in that moment. Its occupant leaned over to open the door, smiled to see her.
"I thought you would never arrive." She cursed inwardly that her voice sounded so weak, damp around the edges with unshed tears. "I thought you must have had second thoughts."
"Oh, darling, never. The bloody car wouldn't start, that was all."
She laughed involuntarily at the ridiculousness of it, the way something so mundane had intruded into the realm of romance. She knew they should have gone by broomstick.
"I thought you didn't love me after all..."
"Oh, you fool..."
There was a sweet, soft silence then; it seemed the very castle held its breath. The world stood still for the sweet duration of a kiss. Constance breathed a sigh of relief; the waiting was over, she would never have to be alone again.
"Anyway, Con, get in; if I put my foot down we'll still make it to the registry office in time. Look after the rings, will you, I keep thinking I'm going to lose them."
She felt the cool weight of the two gold rings in her hand, felt the warmth of what they meant steal over her tensed body.
She watched as the castle receded from view, and felt she was saying goodbye to it. Of course she would return to it, a week from now, the first day of the new term...but she would be different then, would have the secret weight of one of these rings hanging on a chain round her neck. Even when they were apart, she would never have to be alone again.
The town rose up ahead; it seemed they would make it in time after all. The waiting and worrying was over. Today was the first day of the rest of Constance Hardbroom's life.