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PART IX

§§§

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

Antoine de Sainte-Exupery

§§§

I had begun to forget about the demoniac laugh I had heard until an incident recalled the sound to my memory. It was a few nights following my baffling walk with Mr. Rabb that I pondered over the talk and what he had said. I wondered when he would leave again. Mrs. Fairfax had said he rarely stayed for over a fortnight. When would he leave? Tomorrow? Perhaps not for another week. Maybe he would stay until spring. I had just begun to doze into sleep with these thoughts on my mind when I heard that laugh that managed to shake me to the core. I supposed it to be part of the dream I had just fallen into when it became louder and unmistakable in reality. I sat up in bed with a start and stared at the door, where I heard the sound issuing from. I heard the door knob jiggle and the laugh again. As my bed was right next to the door, it sounded as if the voice was right next to my bedside. And as I could not see in the pitch-black room, I began to tremble slightly. It soon vanished softly down the hallway and it wasn't until I could smell the scent of smoke that I got out of bed.

I opened my door and peered both ways before venturing out. It was when I noticed a billow of smoke pouring from one of the rooms that I hurried down. It was Mr. Rabb's room. I quickly entered as my heart leapt to my throat. I grabbed his pitcher of water and poured it on his kindling sheets, which were dangerously close to his form, which was still in deep sleep, most likely stupefied by the smoke. With quick work I extinguished the blazing inferno and placed the pitcher back on the dresser. It was seconds later when Mr. Rabb awoke, cursing as he found himself in a bed drenched with water. He glanced around the room and as I lit a candle called out, "Sarah Mackenzie, is that you?"

"Yes sir. You should get out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold." Not to sound like a typical mother or anything, but I can be concerned about someone, can't I?

"What happened?" He exclaimed, shooting up from the bed and wrapping a rope around him.

"I don't know, sir. I was waken by a voice near my door. After it disappeared, I came out into the hallway and found your bed on fire."

He cursed and walked with swift, angry strides to the door. He turned back to me. "Stay here and don't move. You may put my cloak on to keep you warm." He draped his cloak over my shoulders before leaving the room.

He didn't appear for quite some time and I was ready to retire, even without his consent, when I heard his footsteps approaching. He entered the room and by the soft, pale moonlight, I could tell he looked tired and worn.

He explained it was one of the servants and I briefly pondered why he had not fired her, but was too tired to think about it too much. He stared out the window for a long time and considering myself free to go, prepared to depart from the room.

"What? You are leaving me already?"

"I assumed . . ."

"You assumed!" He exclaimed. "You saved me from an excruciating and horrible death. You saved my life. You thought I would dismiss you in such a manner?" He approached me and reached for my hand. "Good night." He said.

"Good night, sir." And I turned to leave, but he would not let go of my hand.

"What? You will go?"

"I am cold sir."

"Of course! You are standing in a pool of water." Yet he still held my small hand in his large one.

"I think I heard Mrs. Fairfax, move, sir." Said I.

"Then go."

And with that, I was gone.

§§§

I both wished and feared to meet Mr. Rabb the following day. I discovered he had made up a story in account of the incident and did not bother contradicting it. He had his reasons for what he did and I had no intention of butting my nose into them.

It wasn't until tea that I discovered where Mr. Rabb had gone.

"You looked flushed today, Sarah. Drink your tea." Mrs. Fairfax observed after a few moments of silence.

"I've never felt better." I lied.

Mrs. Fairfax glanced outside at the disappearing sun. Dusk had begun to fall and I was still wondering where Mr. Rabb was. "It was drizzling a bit earlier this morning, but on the whole, Mr. Rabb has had a favorable day for his journey."

"Journey! I did know he was out."

Mrs. Fairfax nodded, unaware of my slightly desperate tone. "Yes, he had gone to Mr. Eshton's place. He left shortly after breakfast."

"Do you expect him back tonight?"

"Oh heavens no! These parties usually last for a week or more. I don't expect him back for another fortnight, if that."

I tried not to show my disappointment.

"Dear, drink your tea."

I took a sip to please the persistent woman, but found it had no taste.

"Are there many ladies at the parties?"

"Yes, quite a few." Mrs. Fairfax answered. "Mrs. Eshton has three daughters, and oh yes, Mary and Renee Ingram. Renee is quite a beauty. Mr. Rabb seemed to appeal to her at the Christmas party at the Ingram's."

I remained silent and bid myself to be excused early from tea. I was quite exhausted from my restless sleep last night and was afraid my raging thoughts would voice themselves somewhat. "You are such a fool, Sarah Mackenzie. To think you could be of importance to Mr. Rabb. To please him and make him happy. A greater fool than you never lived."

§§§

It was approximately a fortnight or so later when Mrs. Fairfax received at telegram stating Mr. Rabb was returning within the week, along with the others from the Earnshaw party. Never have I seen a house in such a frenzy! The best linen was brought down, the draperies cleaned, everything dusted and polished. I was giving that week off of work to help clean. It felt like I was doing a good deal of the cleaning, but I wasn't paying too much attention to my tedious chores. I was concentrating more on the return of Mr. Rabb. Would he take notice of me? Surely he wouldn't invite me down to the drawing room with all the other guests. I could not stand that. The ignominious task of smiling when you don't want to smile . . . laugh when you don't want to laugh . . . pretend your heart is not breaking when it really is. I inadvertently shut off this trail of thought as I lost my precarious balance from the ladder, where I had been dusting the shelves. The next thing I knew I was on the floor, rubbing my shoulder which was throbbing painfully. Mrs. Fairfax came in as soon as she heard the noise.

"Sarah, dear, are you alright?"

'My shoulder isn't what's injured.' I managed to bite back. "Yes, I'm fine."

Mrs. Fairfax glanced at her watch. "Why don't you go shower and get dressed. They should be here around six."

I nodded absently and quickly finished dusting the shelves before heading to my room. Maybe I shower would help sooth my throbbing shoulder. Maybe it would help . . .

They came with an entrance grand and full of splendor, but I remained hidden in the curtains as I peaked out the window so as to not be seen. My eyes remained fixed solely on Mr. Rabb, cantering into the courtyard on his stylish Trakehner stallion, Montrour. I recognized, by Mrs. Fairfax's descriptions, Renee Ingram, riding next to him. Her horse was an elegant and obviously well bred mare. I judged it to be a Westphalian, by it's conformation and movement. Of course, my father had been a horse breeder, so I knew quite a bit about them.

She wasn't as fair as some of the other lady's, but her blond ringlets contrasted beautifully with her smooth olive skin. They glistened in the sun under her hat, as if laughing at me.

I tried not to look at Mr. Rabb, knowing every time that I did, a piece of my heart was torn away, but something drew my eye to him. He looked as handsome as ever and I sighed in relief. He was back. The two riders dismounted and the other guests disembarked from the carriages. I hurried upstairs before they could reach the door, but I heard from the top Mrs. Fairfax greet them, exclaiming at Renee's beauty. I headed to my room, deciding to pass the time straightening it up. I only had a few items that I owned myself, but I couldn't think of anything else to do.

As I was putting my things in order, I found an old volume of Emily Dickinson. Sitting down on my bed, I opened it, thumbing through the pages, worn with age. I skimmed over a few, uninterested for the most part. I came across a poem that appeared interesting and began reading, noting her unique writing style, but mostly paying attention to the poem.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sing the tune without the words

And never stops at all.

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land

And on the strangest sea,

Yet never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

§§§

He closed the book and ran a tired hand across the faded cover. He glanced up in the pale and lifeless face of his partner. "I hope you liked that poem, Mac." Harm whispered into the still air of the hospital room. "I used to read Emily Dickinson all the time at my grandmother's . . . I thought I would read you some." Mac had been in the coma for five days now and as Harm stared listlessly at the book in his hands, he realized they were the longest days of his life. He sighed with frustration. "Mac, please wake up. I'll do anything if you'd just open your eyes." He attempted to keep his emotions at bay, but the lonely tear that forced its way out proved his tries were futile. "I love you."

§§§

Mac hadn't realized she had fallen asleep until she heard felt the soft whisper of the wind kiss her cheek. It was cool and soft and slightly comforting. And it wasn't until the first raindrop came through the window that she realized she had left the window open and then fallen asleep at her desk. She stood and shut the window, looking out at the sky overridden with grief and sorrow. She turned to the door as a knock resounded. "Yes?"

Mrs. Fairfax peeped her head in. "Mr. Rabb would like you to come down to the drawing room."

"I'm sure he was just being polite and I needn't go." 'Please don't make me go.'

"He said he would like very much for you to go. He also said he could come up and offer the invitation himself if you refused." Mrs. Fairfax's eyes pleaded for me to go then and not offer him any trouble.

"I will go." She shut the door and I reluctantly put on my best dress, a gray one and I only worn once at a friend's wedding. It was beautiful on me then, but I was reluctant to adorn it now.