Chapter Three: Ivory Tears
At first, Victor Van Dort had no idea of what to say, and even when the words came to him he could not seem to let them out. For so long he had been wondering…completely fascinated of the idea that Emily, the Corpse Bride, could have been waiting for him, and now he standing right in front of her and words failed him. She was clasping her hand to her mouth and staring back at Victor with wide surprised eyes, looking taken aback by his blue skin and wet, tattered clothes. He had to admit he was sight; his jacket was soaked and clinging to his thin body, his normally clean gray suit was now dingy and dank, and his jet black hair looked damp and unkept. Sighing, Victor looked around the all too familiar place, only to be greeted by surprised, smiling faces. He tried to smile back and took Emily's hand.
"Hello, Emily."
"Victor…" she said, staring at him with eyes about the size of dinner plates. "It's been so long!"
She embraced him, and for the first time for what seemed like an eternity he felt the warmness of another person. It was not that he and Victoria had not had a warm, loving relationship; but with the baby and the parents and the dinner parties, it was nearly impossible to spend any time alone together. He had been hoping that his wife would have accompanied him on his morning walk…but quite obviously it had not worked out that way. If Victoria would have accompanied him, perhaps he would not have met his fate like this. Perhaps he would not have died. He could not help but wonder as Emily wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed deeply in her throat, which sounded a bit like a cat purring. He loved feeling like this, feeling the warmness of a friend.
Dead people aren't supposed to feel anything, he thought suddenly, but the thought subsided as Emily spoke again.
"Victor," she whispered, pulling back from him. "What's happened to you?"
Victor was not entirely sure of how to tell Emily the story of his death without upsetting her. Emily was strong but sensitive, and to see her cry over the likes of him would only make him feel uneasier. Or worse she would laugh at him. The way he had died was so ridiculous, so foolish…he had fallen off a bridge while caught up in thought! (Which, he thought sadly, was only something that he would do.) How do you approach a woman who once loved you, and to whom you were once married, after two years of separation? What was he supposed to do? Emily was a person of the past; he had thought that Victoria was his future. And what of Lily? Now that he was dead, he could never spend time with her again…never more could he hear the pleasant sound of her laugh, her little baby girgles, or even the sound of her crying. He would never see her again! Not until she died herself…Victor shuddered at the thought.
"Emily," Victor tried, feeling tears well up in his eyes. "Emily…I am such a fool."
"What on earth do you mean?" she replied, caressing his cheek in her hand, and wiping away fallen tear. "Please, don't cry…" She embraced him again. "I can't stand to see you cry…"
She was sitting in her favorite chair of the house, tears streaming down her beautiful face, utterly perplexed by the situation she was in. Emil was standing in front of she and her parents, no sign of emotion on his face, explaining the tragic death of her husband. Why does he need to explain? Victoria thought bitterly. My husband fell off a bridge and died! It's not rocket science! Suppressing a tiny sob, Victoria Van Dort unwillingly continued to listen to Emil's speech.
"…started to fall off the retched bridge without knowing until it was too late. Tragic, indeed, is it not? The Master of the house is dead, my good people, that is all I know. Heard it from the town crier."
"Oh please, someone on God's green earth please tell me that this is a lie!" wailed Victoria, unable to stop herself. "Please tell that he's lying, Mother and Father!"
Holding a hand to her heart, Lady Everglot snapped, "Good heavens child, settle down at once! We do not throw ourselves on the floor!"
It was true, she
had thrown herself on to the floor. But Victoria could not
imagine a woman in any country of any social status who would not do
the same. Breathlessly she said, "I collapsed, Mother," and
lifted herself back up and patted her dress. The dress she was
wearing was the most beautiful one she owned: jet black with tiny
(but still perfectly visible) red roses on the hem and bodice.
Victoria especially loved this dress because it had been, though she
had never known her personally, her grandmother's dress. This
grandmother had been Victoria's namesake and a sort of hero, though
she did not know exactly why. Stop thinking about your
grandmother! She started to stroke her pearls and stared Emil,
wondering what he would say next.
"I know you all find yourselves upset at the moment," he eyed Lord and Lady Everglot, who did not look the least bit upset at all, "but I must insist you to perk up. After all, the Hendersons will be arriving at six."
And for the third time that day, she threw herself on to the floor.
Victor and Emily were sitting at the same piano that they had played two years ago. Victor was fighting the urge to cry, while Emily was flipping through a book of music, trying to find a proper song to play.
"Ah, here's one!" she said happily, smiling at Victor, who smiled sadly back. She started to play the song with ease, and looked as serene as ever did to Victor, her dead yet lively hands floating across the keys…
The song was the exact duet that they had played before.