Chapter Twenty-One: Meeting at Night
Sarah walked down the dimly lit passage, a grogginess looming over her spirits.
She had worked straight through the day, following that sudden, surprise presentation
yesterday, of a song which had yet to be written. Peter had been ready to take her into his
arms, when she was found after her abrupt sprint from the theatre.
She was the savior for Peter's play, but felt that she had also been the one to nearly
destroy it. After all, was it not her foolish, emotionally wrought wish that had caused the
Goblin King to snatch away Gabrielle, along with the other actresses? Sarah would have
gladly sacrificed her leading roll to have the others returned safely, for she had never
meant any harm to come to them.
She slowly opened her door, peering into the darkened room. Jareth had not come
the previous night, nor the entire expanse of the day. Sarah had allowed herself to believe
that he had gotten what he wanted, and would now leave her be with her destroyed life.
Perhaps there would be some way to pick up the pieces and start once more, having a
third chance at normalcy. Somehow it did not appear likely.
Jareth would forever rule her life, as long as she let him. He had the control, as
much as she wished that it was not so. He held her in his palm, almost like a simple
puppet and she danced to his every whim. He wanted her to allow her dark dreams to
come into reality, and did so by heeding her wish and taking the others away. His alluring
presence invaded her dreams, and her life, causing desire to mount and toy with her
feelings.
Sarah flipped her light switch and watched as the comfortable room was bathed in
soothing pale illumination. Outside the filtering light of the moon was obscured. Sarah
entered, closing the large, heavy wooden door behind herself in the process, and literally
fell upon the downy bed. The scent of her own shampoo drifted from the pillow, as did
that of a more mysterious and magical aura.
She instantly rose, glancing around the now horridly confining chambers. Her
breath came in harsh gasps, as her chest rose and fell in a hitching rhythm. She took in her
surroundings with a single sweeping glance and then leant back against the bed once more.
There had been nothing save, once more, her overactive imagination.
Her elbow struck the pillow, and instantly the firm object beneath stopped the
softness. She was startled, until recalling just what was hidden in such a noticeable place.
Sarah snaked her slender hand beneath the pillow and drew out the lovely diary, holding it
close for a few moments before she, at last, opened it to where she had left off. There was
still so very much to learn.
Sarah scanned the pages, flipping another, and realizing that she had yet to even
reach the middle of the grand book. She rubbed her eyes, urging the sleep away and then
continued in her search for answers in the historical diary.
"I went to find him the following night, as we had planned in the forest's glen, near the ancient ruins.
I was not seen, as Jareth had promised, and was able to sneak out unnoticed as well. The only hitch in our
plans came in the form of dark storm clouds which hung threatening overhead, and rumbled angrily with the
oncoming rage of nature. Still, all the anger in the storm could not amount to the sadness I was to face, upon
having my heart broken..."
* * * * * * * *
Emelia drew her cloak tight about her shoulders, the fur-lined hood shadowing her
frightened and pale face from the world. Inside she was shivering, her mind racing out of
control with a thousand or more worries and thoughts. This was her life, her future, and it
depended entirely upon her ability to sneak past her parents, whom had yet to take their
repose in their chambers.
Her heart skipped as Mr. Fontridge rose from the grand mahogany chair, which
was positioned before the large fireplace. A grand inferno blazed on within the stony
confines and cast illuminations that resembled Hell itself. Orange shimmering glows licked
across the walls and Emelia's father was also touched by the light, as well as frightening
shades.
She silenced her breath, and slunk into the shadows offered by another twist of the
passageway. Her father walked past, stopping only briefly to glance about, as if he had
heard something but was not quite ready to search out the cause of the noise. He sighed
deeply after scanning what little could be seen in the dim light offered by the luminess of
torches, and continued on down the hallway and perhaps towards his room to, at last,
sleep.
As the sound of his footsteps faded, and his shape did the same, Emelia allowed
herself a shaking breath of relief. She had not been caught, and now had her chance for
freedom far from the constricting confines of the horrid mansion. She gathered up her
skirts and rushed from the safety of the dark, into the grand sitting room, where she
paused before the massive fire.
Within the glowing bodies of the flames she saw a dancing figure, or what
appeared to be so. Emelia's eyes widened, the fire reflecting in those chestnut orbs as she
watched in awe. Then, as if nothing had ever been there, the apparition faded to oblivion,
leaving only the remained licks of flame that still ate the wood hungrily.
"Please forgive me," Emelia whispered, looking towards the ceiling and past it,
towards the heavens above.
She ran to the door, looked over her shoulder only once to be sure that no one had
seen her this far. When she escaped the mansion she would be free, and on her way to the
safety of Jareth's warm embrace. Emelia tugged the heavy door open, just enough to slip
through and then pulled it a bit, in a half-hearted attempt to close.
Yet, she could not wait, for her heart soared with the feeling of the night air, the
scent of the first raindrops, and the promise of a new future. She raced into the night,
skipping over stones and never once glanced back towards the door which stood open,
casting a fine line of orange highlights across the dark entryway to Fontridge Manor.
She raced into the woods, her face upturned towards the skies as the rain
splattered upon her clothing. She tasted the lovely water from heaven, as if it cleansed her
as she ran to her future.
The calm atmosphere was not to last, for in a brief second the light shower broke,
and a torrent of rain pummeled the land, nearly driving Emelia to her knees. She grasped
a nearby tree, leaning against its strength for support against the onslaught of nature.
Emelia looked forward, towards the faint outline of the creek, which she could
only scarcely see from such a distance. Still, that was where she was to find her love and
she could not allow the weather to prevent their meeting. She broke from the tree, and
lunged forwards, gripping the simple cloak, which had already become heavy with the rain
and trailed with mud, around herself as she continued towards her destiny.
The wind caught her hood, tearing it from her face, and leaving her all but helpless
against the weather. She staggered backwards, caught in the gale that attacked without
mercy. Emelia struggled forward, tearing at tree branches to aid her in her journey.
Overhead lightning traced an eerie white path along the rolling underbellies of the horrid
stormclouds, and thunder exploded from directly overhead.
"I cannot go on," Emelia screamed through the violent night and fell against the
tree by which she had stopped.
Her clothing tore as it caught up in a low, thorny bush. Emelia ripped it more,
trying to free herself. Her lovely pale peach dress was tattered in ribbons, to which she
paid little attention. The creek was near at hand, and she could not force herself to rise to
approach it.
Then she glanced back, towards the single light that still shone from within her
former home. She could not return, for her parents would never accept her, nor the secret
she held from all. The secret which she still had yet to tell Jareth, but planned on
informing him as they met that night. Now, it seemed that she would not reach her
destination, but rather die in the spot she had fallen.
"I must, I cannot go home, not now," Emelia's frantic mind repeated, urging her to
try once more, and rise to her feet.
She did as she was told, though her legs shook uncontrollably when at last she
found herself standing. Walking along the tree line broke the sheer power of the wind,
and she was able to prevent falling by grabbing hold of their comforting limbs. She slowly
made progress forwards, and to the creek, which now raged with intense fury of flooded
waters...
* * * * * * * *
Within Fontridge both father and mother awakened with a start. They sat up
straight in their massive bed and looked towards each other. The spell which had covered
them had dropped, and now were aware of something wrong. The rain beat against the
windows, as wind whistled throughout the manor. Lightning crackled across the sky,
lighting their faces with white illumination, and thunder following shortly later, rattling the
glass.
Fontridge leapt from his bed, throwing his large overcoat around himself, to
prevent the chill air from attacking his body. He raced to the door, and cast it open,
looking back towards his wife for a moment.
"What is wrong?" Mrs. Fontridge asked, her eyes wide in fear at her husband's
actions.
He shook his head, and raced out into the hallway, pausing only briefly at Emelia's
door, which was closed. He continued on, before stopping completely to look back at his
daughter's room. His heart almost screamed, telling him that here was the cause for his
feeling of something wrong. He rushed back, catching the silhouette of his wife down the
hall as she walked from their chambers, her hand to her mouth in shock.
He threw open the door and looked inside. All was dark, and silent, as it should be
at that hour. Still, something was not right. Outside lightning flashed once more, and cast
the room in pale white highlights. The bed was outlined brilliantly, and showed the fact
that there was no girl sleeping beneath the warm blankets. Emelia was gone.
Fontridge slammed the door, and ran down the halls, calling for his daughter the
entire way. He had thought that she was different, but was unable to find the reason.
Now, it was too late, and she was gone.
He rushed into the sitting room, where he had been that night, and recalled hearing
something that he had dismissed as unimportant. The fire was dead, only glowing embers
remained scattered. Yet, a chill of frozen air caught his attention, and he looked towards
the large door, which stood open.
* * * * * * * *
"Jareth!" Emelia cried, falling to the ground momentarily, catching herself upon a
large gray rock.
She looked downwards, towards the creek which surged angrily along its path.
Her mind instantly brought horrid images of Jareth plummeting to his death in the
churning waters, before she had been able to reach this place. Already she knew that it
was late, far past the time they had planned to meet. Something had happened.
She struggled onwards, to the bridge. It was only then that she would allow
herself rest. She grabbed hold of the ancient railing, nearly losing her own balance at that
instant. Emelia steadied herself and walked to the very center of the old bridge, which
creaked against the onslaught of the storm.
Then, all strength at last gone out of her body, she fell to the ground and waited.
The rain continued to pound down upon her, and soon she felt that she would lose all
consciousness. Jareth had forgotten, he had not come, he had left her to die in the fury of
the weather she now faced... alone.
She only scarcely heard the heavy footsteps as they approached, and turned her
head to gaze in the direction of the unknown person who had seen her. Her chocolate,
misted eyes took in the heavy boots, and knew at once that it was not Jareth who had
came then.
Hands lifted her upwards and soon she found herself cradled in strong arms. She
rested her head against the body, which felt so warm, and nearly dry compared to her own
fatigued self. As she was carried away, Emelia felt her tears begin, those sobs which did
not ever stop, for her heart had been broken cleanly in two.
The love she had believed to exist between herself and Jareth was not true. He had
only used her, had taken her, had cast her away, and now moved on to another naive child.
She realized all this as the strong person carried her to safety, far from the rain and the
wind and chilled temperature which forced shivers to cascade uncontrollably along her
entire body.
Then, Emelia felt herself drawn into blackness, which she welcomed. Her body
went limp in the other's arms as they continued towards shelter in the black of night.
* * * * * * * *
"It was my father who took me home, and placed me, warm, into my bed. It was he whom cradled my
body in the storm, and he whom beat me when I was awake. Then he left, and locked me away in my room, far
from the eyes of society. For it was he too, who first guessed at my secret, and I the one who told him it to be
the truth. My problem, something that was incurable, and something that I would face for nearly a year. The
man whom I had loved, and had left me to die in the night, had left me also with another life in my body, a
child..."
Sarah snapped the book closed, her heart beating madly as the final words in that
entry played again and again in her mind. "A child", which meant that Jareth had a son or
daughter. She shivered, hating the Goblin King with every ounce of her being. He had
left Emelia, and had ruined her all at once.
Surely in that day and age a young girl, only sixteen years in age, would be
shunned for conceiving before wedlock. Sarah shivered at the gloomy prospects that laid
in Emelia's future. The poor woman had cried constantly, as she was locked away in her
room, for the tears showed even upon the ancient pages in form of ink blurs.
It was then that Sarah's body froze in utter horror of revelation. The image on the
picture, the spirit in the room, and the sobs which she had heard originally in her dreams,
all flooded her mind. It connected, those pictures from her memories, and did so subtly
enough so that Sarah had not even realized until that day.
"What about the horse?" Sarah asked as she reopened the diary to flip through the
old pages.
There was no mention of any significant horse, such as the majestic silver steed
that Sarah had followed. The lovely mare was beautiful beyond words, and surely would
bare some mention had she been seen at least once by Emelia. Still, the equine remained a
mystery, and all Sarah could do was speculate as to the importance of the fair, ghost,
horse.
She stopped flipping pages suddenly, having realized that there was no longer
script upon the yellow paper. Rather, the book was blank from that point on. She turned
the page back, and found an overflow of tears shown in the way the paper had wrinkled
and words had blurred together, making everything nearly illegible.
Still, some could be discerned, and Sarah went about reading it with a careful eye.
Perhaps this last passage bore some answers to the questions that whirred constantly
through Sarah's mind. She began, not prepared for what would lie within those seemingly
innocent words.
Sarah walked down the dimly lit passage, a grogginess looming over her spirits.
She had worked straight through the day, following that sudden, surprise presentation
yesterday, of a song which had yet to be written. Peter had been ready to take her into his
arms, when she was found after her abrupt sprint from the theatre.
She was the savior for Peter's play, but felt that she had also been the one to nearly
destroy it. After all, was it not her foolish, emotionally wrought wish that had caused the
Goblin King to snatch away Gabrielle, along with the other actresses? Sarah would have
gladly sacrificed her leading roll to have the others returned safely, for she had never
meant any harm to come to them.
She slowly opened her door, peering into the darkened room. Jareth had not come
the previous night, nor the entire expanse of the day. Sarah had allowed herself to believe
that he had gotten what he wanted, and would now leave her be with her destroyed life.
Perhaps there would be some way to pick up the pieces and start once more, having a
third chance at normalcy. Somehow it did not appear likely.
Jareth would forever rule her life, as long as she let him. He had the control, as
much as she wished that it was not so. He held her in his palm, almost like a simple
puppet and she danced to his every whim. He wanted her to allow her dark dreams to
come into reality, and did so by heeding her wish and taking the others away. His alluring
presence invaded her dreams, and her life, causing desire to mount and toy with her
feelings.
Sarah flipped her light switch and watched as the comfortable room was bathed in
soothing pale illumination. Outside the filtering light of the moon was obscured. Sarah
entered, closing the large, heavy wooden door behind herself in the process, and literally
fell upon the downy bed. The scent of her own shampoo drifted from the pillow, as did
that of a more mysterious and magical aura.
She instantly rose, glancing around the now horridly confining chambers. Her
breath came in harsh gasps, as her chest rose and fell in a hitching rhythm. She took in her
surroundings with a single sweeping glance and then leant back against the bed once more.
There had been nothing save, once more, her overactive imagination.
Her elbow struck the pillow, and instantly the firm object beneath stopped the
softness. She was startled, until recalling just what was hidden in such a noticeable place.
Sarah snaked her slender hand beneath the pillow and drew out the lovely diary, holding it
close for a few moments before she, at last, opened it to where she had left off. There was
still so very much to learn.
Sarah scanned the pages, flipping another, and realizing that she had yet to even
reach the middle of the grand book. She rubbed her eyes, urging the sleep away and then
continued in her search for answers in the historical diary.
"I went to find him the following night, as we had planned in the forest's glen, near the ancient ruins.
I was not seen, as Jareth had promised, and was able to sneak out unnoticed as well. The only hitch in our
plans came in the form of dark storm clouds which hung threatening overhead, and rumbled angrily with the
oncoming rage of nature. Still, all the anger in the storm could not amount to the sadness I was to face, upon
having my heart broken..."
* * * * * * * *
Emelia drew her cloak tight about her shoulders, the fur-lined hood shadowing her
frightened and pale face from the world. Inside she was shivering, her mind racing out of
control with a thousand or more worries and thoughts. This was her life, her future, and it
depended entirely upon her ability to sneak past her parents, whom had yet to take their
repose in their chambers.
Her heart skipped as Mr. Fontridge rose from the grand mahogany chair, which
was positioned before the large fireplace. A grand inferno blazed on within the stony
confines and cast illuminations that resembled Hell itself. Orange shimmering glows licked
across the walls and Emelia's father was also touched by the light, as well as frightening
shades.
She silenced her breath, and slunk into the shadows offered by another twist of the
passageway. Her father walked past, stopping only briefly to glance about, as if he had
heard something but was not quite ready to search out the cause of the noise. He sighed
deeply after scanning what little could be seen in the dim light offered by the luminess of
torches, and continued on down the hallway and perhaps towards his room to, at last,
sleep.
As the sound of his footsteps faded, and his shape did the same, Emelia allowed
herself a shaking breath of relief. She had not been caught, and now had her chance for
freedom far from the constricting confines of the horrid mansion. She gathered up her
skirts and rushed from the safety of the dark, into the grand sitting room, where she
paused before the massive fire.
Within the glowing bodies of the flames she saw a dancing figure, or what
appeared to be so. Emelia's eyes widened, the fire reflecting in those chestnut orbs as she
watched in awe. Then, as if nothing had ever been there, the apparition faded to oblivion,
leaving only the remained licks of flame that still ate the wood hungrily.
"Please forgive me," Emelia whispered, looking towards the ceiling and past it,
towards the heavens above.
She ran to the door, looked over her shoulder only once to be sure that no one had
seen her this far. When she escaped the mansion she would be free, and on her way to the
safety of Jareth's warm embrace. Emelia tugged the heavy door open, just enough to slip
through and then pulled it a bit, in a half-hearted attempt to close.
Yet, she could not wait, for her heart soared with the feeling of the night air, the
scent of the first raindrops, and the promise of a new future. She raced into the night,
skipping over stones and never once glanced back towards the door which stood open,
casting a fine line of orange highlights across the dark entryway to Fontridge Manor.
She raced into the woods, her face upturned towards the skies as the rain
splattered upon her clothing. She tasted the lovely water from heaven, as if it cleansed her
as she ran to her future.
The calm atmosphere was not to last, for in a brief second the light shower broke,
and a torrent of rain pummeled the land, nearly driving Emelia to her knees. She grasped
a nearby tree, leaning against its strength for support against the onslaught of nature.
Emelia looked forward, towards the faint outline of the creek, which she could
only scarcely see from such a distance. Still, that was where she was to find her love and
she could not allow the weather to prevent their meeting. She broke from the tree, and
lunged forwards, gripping the simple cloak, which had already become heavy with the rain
and trailed with mud, around herself as she continued towards her destiny.
The wind caught her hood, tearing it from her face, and leaving her all but helpless
against the weather. She staggered backwards, caught in the gale that attacked without
mercy. Emelia struggled forward, tearing at tree branches to aid her in her journey.
Overhead lightning traced an eerie white path along the rolling underbellies of the horrid
stormclouds, and thunder exploded from directly overhead.
"I cannot go on," Emelia screamed through the violent night and fell against the
tree by which she had stopped.
Her clothing tore as it caught up in a low, thorny bush. Emelia ripped it more,
trying to free herself. Her lovely pale peach dress was tattered in ribbons, to which she
paid little attention. The creek was near at hand, and she could not force herself to rise to
approach it.
Then she glanced back, towards the single light that still shone from within her
former home. She could not return, for her parents would never accept her, nor the secret
she held from all. The secret which she still had yet to tell Jareth, but planned on
informing him as they met that night. Now, it seemed that she would not reach her
destination, but rather die in the spot she had fallen.
"I must, I cannot go home, not now," Emelia's frantic mind repeated, urging her to
try once more, and rise to her feet.
She did as she was told, though her legs shook uncontrollably when at last she
found herself standing. Walking along the tree line broke the sheer power of the wind,
and she was able to prevent falling by grabbing hold of their comforting limbs. She slowly
made progress forwards, and to the creek, which now raged with intense fury of flooded
waters...
* * * * * * * *
Within Fontridge both father and mother awakened with a start. They sat up
straight in their massive bed and looked towards each other. The spell which had covered
them had dropped, and now were aware of something wrong. The rain beat against the
windows, as wind whistled throughout the manor. Lightning crackled across the sky,
lighting their faces with white illumination, and thunder following shortly later, rattling the
glass.
Fontridge leapt from his bed, throwing his large overcoat around himself, to
prevent the chill air from attacking his body. He raced to the door, and cast it open,
looking back towards his wife for a moment.
"What is wrong?" Mrs. Fontridge asked, her eyes wide in fear at her husband's
actions.
He shook his head, and raced out into the hallway, pausing only briefly at Emelia's
door, which was closed. He continued on, before stopping completely to look back at his
daughter's room. His heart almost screamed, telling him that here was the cause for his
feeling of something wrong. He rushed back, catching the silhouette of his wife down the
hall as she walked from their chambers, her hand to her mouth in shock.
He threw open the door and looked inside. All was dark, and silent, as it should be
at that hour. Still, something was not right. Outside lightning flashed once more, and cast
the room in pale white highlights. The bed was outlined brilliantly, and showed the fact
that there was no girl sleeping beneath the warm blankets. Emelia was gone.
Fontridge slammed the door, and ran down the halls, calling for his daughter the
entire way. He had thought that she was different, but was unable to find the reason.
Now, it was too late, and she was gone.
He rushed into the sitting room, where he had been that night, and recalled hearing
something that he had dismissed as unimportant. The fire was dead, only glowing embers
remained scattered. Yet, a chill of frozen air caught his attention, and he looked towards
the large door, which stood open.
* * * * * * * *
"Jareth!" Emelia cried, falling to the ground momentarily, catching herself upon a
large gray rock.
She looked downwards, towards the creek which surged angrily along its path.
Her mind instantly brought horrid images of Jareth plummeting to his death in the
churning waters, before she had been able to reach this place. Already she knew that it
was late, far past the time they had planned to meet. Something had happened.
She struggled onwards, to the bridge. It was only then that she would allow
herself rest. She grabbed hold of the ancient railing, nearly losing her own balance at that
instant. Emelia steadied herself and walked to the very center of the old bridge, which
creaked against the onslaught of the storm.
Then, all strength at last gone out of her body, she fell to the ground and waited.
The rain continued to pound down upon her, and soon she felt that she would lose all
consciousness. Jareth had forgotten, he had not come, he had left her to die in the fury of
the weather she now faced... alone.
She only scarcely heard the heavy footsteps as they approached, and turned her
head to gaze in the direction of the unknown person who had seen her. Her chocolate,
misted eyes took in the heavy boots, and knew at once that it was not Jareth who had
came then.
Hands lifted her upwards and soon she found herself cradled in strong arms. She
rested her head against the body, which felt so warm, and nearly dry compared to her own
fatigued self. As she was carried away, Emelia felt her tears begin, those sobs which did
not ever stop, for her heart had been broken cleanly in two.
The love she had believed to exist between herself and Jareth was not true. He had
only used her, had taken her, had cast her away, and now moved on to another naive child.
She realized all this as the strong person carried her to safety, far from the rain and the
wind and chilled temperature which forced shivers to cascade uncontrollably along her
entire body.
Then, Emelia felt herself drawn into blackness, which she welcomed. Her body
went limp in the other's arms as they continued towards shelter in the black of night.
* * * * * * * *
"It was my father who took me home, and placed me, warm, into my bed. It was he whom cradled my
body in the storm, and he whom beat me when I was awake. Then he left, and locked me away in my room, far
from the eyes of society. For it was he too, who first guessed at my secret, and I the one who told him it to be
the truth. My problem, something that was incurable, and something that I would face for nearly a year. The
man whom I had loved, and had left me to die in the night, had left me also with another life in my body, a
child..."
Sarah snapped the book closed, her heart beating madly as the final words in that
entry played again and again in her mind. "A child", which meant that Jareth had a son or
daughter. She shivered, hating the Goblin King with every ounce of her being. He had
left Emelia, and had ruined her all at once.
Surely in that day and age a young girl, only sixteen years in age, would be
shunned for conceiving before wedlock. Sarah shivered at the gloomy prospects that laid
in Emelia's future. The poor woman had cried constantly, as she was locked away in her
room, for the tears showed even upon the ancient pages in form of ink blurs.
It was then that Sarah's body froze in utter horror of revelation. The image on the
picture, the spirit in the room, and the sobs which she had heard originally in her dreams,
all flooded her mind. It connected, those pictures from her memories, and did so subtly
enough so that Sarah had not even realized until that day.
"What about the horse?" Sarah asked as she reopened the diary to flip through the
old pages.
There was no mention of any significant horse, such as the majestic silver steed
that Sarah had followed. The lovely mare was beautiful beyond words, and surely would
bare some mention had she been seen at least once by Emelia. Still, the equine remained a
mystery, and all Sarah could do was speculate as to the importance of the fair, ghost,
horse.
She stopped flipping pages suddenly, having realized that there was no longer
script upon the yellow paper. Rather, the book was blank from that point on. She turned
the page back, and found an overflow of tears shown in the way the paper had wrinkled
and words had blurred together, making everything nearly illegible.
Still, some could be discerned, and Sarah went about reading it with a careful eye.
Perhaps this last passage bore some answers to the questions that whirred constantly
through Sarah's mind. She began, not prepared for what would lie within those seemingly
innocent words.
