Authors Notes
The story will pick up its pace after this chapter, I don't like rushing initial character development but now it's time for some events that will bring the story to a crisis point (and contain content that will be M rated). Thank you to Aerenii for her constant supportive reviews! This extra chapter tonight is for you.
Chapter 9
Richard returned to the house around dusk, he had passed one of Jimmy's associates near the house and gave him the nod that relieved him. Stepping into the house he heard Nell's voice quite nearby, he found her seated on the word chaise with Elsa cuddled next to her. Elsa's face burst into a huge smile and she sat up right.
"Thank goodness you have returned, this nymph has been making me read her long poems. She was determined not to go to bed until you were back." Nell explained seeming happy for the first time in days. Elsa clambered off her unceremoniously and walked over to Richard.
"We've had dinner." Said Elsa. "But mama saved some for you."
"I've had more to work with since our visit to town." Nell laughed lightly. "So it's fit to eat."
"Hmm. Thank you. Maybe. Later."
Nell understood that 'later' meant he would hide away in his room in case he appalled them with his eating.
"And now young miss." Nell announced. "It is time for you to go to bed."
"But you were just going to read me my favourite." Elsa said and she looked again at Richard and said. "It is my favourite."
"It is also one of the longest."
Elsa came up to Nell and gave her a winning look that warmed her heart, she had already relented before the child came over, she had promised after all.
"Very well. Providing Mr Harrow doesn't mind some verse."
Richard took up a chair nearby, glad to be able to sit down for it had been a longer journey back today. Nell patted the seat next to her and Elsa took her time getting comfy.
"This is Elsa's favourite, though there are far happier poems we could read." Nell said still wearing a smile of contentment, this short burst of happiness appearing to have done her good. She cleared her throat and began to read.
"On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river."
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott."
As Nell continued to read, her soft lilt gave the verses a dream like quality and Richard found himself imagining the isle and the walls. He had in the past quite liked poetry, but he did not indulge in it these days though he held some poets words in his mind. Elsa also seemed to be imagining the vast sweep of land and the tall grey walls with their beautiful captive inside. Her eyes gleamed in the lamplight and with every verse she burrowed further into Nell in contentment.
"There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the 'curse' may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott."
As Richard listened on he found himself now gazing upon the reader, his heart seemed to thump to the rhythm of her soft speech and it lulled him into an unusual kind of tranquillity. He found himself relying more upon the chair as he relaxed against its back, finding comfort there instead of with his usual even posture.
Something seemed to contain the three of them in a cocoon in that moment, the world outside that caused them worry and pain was temporarily banished. He forgot he was a half maimed killer who wore a mask, a lonely man who just wanted what everyone seemed to take for granted. Nell's eyes swept from line to line studiously and her voice read with the feeling of a much older soul than she was. The fullness of feeling seemed more present in her face now as she read than it ever had done before. His eye went to her mouth and the words seemed so much more beautiful because of the lips they birthed from.
"All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom;
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott."
Richard felt the impending sadness of the poem pull him a little from a place he almost forgot existed in side of him. Perhaps it was not just the content, but the entire experience they were encased in, the fact that he found himself unable to help feel a growing, intense affection the two people he looked upon here. It unsettled him and almost angered him, he was here to do a job, yet hadn't he hoped for her company? Right now he could be betraying these feelings so he pulled himself taut in the chair and attempted to steel the feeling he was experiencing, he had to for that is how he survived.
"Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right-
The leaves upon her falling light-
Thro' the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot;
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott."
Nell happened to look over towards Richard for a moment, she felt Elsa long ago relax into slumber on her lap yet she had kept on reading. She loved this poem and its tragic dream, but on looking over at Richard she found him unaffected and uncomfortable and it saddened her. She stopped reading and closed the book, placing it on the floor beside the chaise.
"The nymph sleeps." She said quietly and cradling the young girl in her arms she got up and took her to bed. She was gone for some time and Richard assumed she had likewise gone to bed. He had been sad when she'd stopped, in attempting to mask one thing he had clearly falsely displayed another. Her words had flowed seamlessly until she happened to look upon him and there she had ceased. There is a price to pay for secrecy he realised but the military part of him pronounced it a job well done, danger had been avoided.
He was deep in thought when she re-entered and she was so close to him before he realised that he gave a start. It was not fear that had caused such a reaction, but the alteration in her appearance. Her hair that had long transfixed him and been freed and now flowed past her shoulders in its velvet glory. It framed her face to perfection and he found he looked at her momentarily dumbfounded. But he pushed down the awe and the admiration; he boxed it in inside a dark corner of himself to revisit later when he was alone. He was determined to only be as was the usual.
"Sound asleep." Nell explained and she began tidying round the few bits belonging to Elsa that were scattered about the room.
"Hmm. What about. You?"
"She is a very difficult bedfellow, she moves about more than she does in the day."
Nell sat down on the chaise again, her shoulders drooped and her hands rested on her lap. There was silence between them, a silence that neither intended to stretch the length of time it did.
"Did you ever imagine..." She began at last. "That you would end up here? Not this house, but this place?"
"Hmm. No."
"When I moved to New York I seemed to lose that ability to choose what direction I took. It seemed the current picked me up and I've just be carried along ever since."
"I didn't. Hmm. Really know. What I was doing. Then. I met Jimmy."
"And do you know now why you're here in Atlantic City?"
"I suppose. Hmm. I followed. Him." Richard said, his head cocked a little. There was a silence again and Nell took in this mysterious man before her, she wasn't really sure what went on in his head. He seemed to not quite dare to ever be fully present wherever he landed, like he was afraid to step into the foreground.
"Now you're here then, are you happy?"
"Hmm. I don't. Really. Consider it."
"I think maybe we have both been picked up by a current." She said, her head resting on her hand as she propped her arm on the back of the chaise. "I've found myself in the middle of a confluence without realising, like everywhere I turn there's other rivers running into mine."
Nell seemed to gain a distant look as he momentarily lost her; the glaze of her eye allowed him a good, long moment to watch her. A man, he felt who was seated opposite her would have leant forward and kissed her, softly reminding her of the here and now. He couldn't do it though, however nice she was to him the spell would break if he tried for any affinity with her. Instead he considered what she was saying until her own quiet laughter which took on a self depreciating tone escaped her lips. She had a sad smile on her face and ran her fingers through her hair. He watched as she hypnotically stroked through the silken strands.
"I like you Mr Harrow." She said, her voice hardening though she did not direct any anger towards him. "You give nothing away, whereas I've given almost everything away."
Richard didn't know what to say, he knew what he felt at that moment but there were no words worth saying. He thought she was lucky though, she had her beauty and her youth whatever had happened to her, whereas he had had it stolen from him when trying to defend others. Yes, she was lucky indeed. But he knew he needed to rouse her from this melancholy if he could and so he asked.
"How does. Hmm. The poem end?"
She looked up at him a moment and surveyed him, then leaning forward she picked up the book and flicked to the page of the poem. Nell eye's drifted over the verses for a moment before she rose and handed the book to him.
"Forgive me." She said flatly. "But I'll let you finish it. I think poetry has made me romanticise my troubles somewhat, how silly of me. Good night Mr Harrow."
Richard listened to her footfall and the closing of her bedroom door and he felt strangely uneasy about how they had gone from a moment of happiness to a moment of melancholy. He looked back down to the poem and read the final verses.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darken'd wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot;
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
'The Lady of Shalott'
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott".