Whoooo! Two chapters in one night! Yeehaw!
It's raining when Ichabod makes his way outside. What luck!
"Mrs. De Winters!" He calls out, sounding rather desperate as the rain drips down onto his face. The Constable shivers and realizes that in this weather he won't be able to find anyone. The only thing he'll find is a cold, which he does NOT need.
Half an hour later, Crane is shivering inside a local tavern. There's a roaring fire and his overcoat is being held tightly against himself. He lost Mrs. De Winters, and instead it seems he's picked up a chill from this miserable weather. Ichabod gives up on trying to look for her- for tonight at leas,t and rents a room at the tavern with the few coins he has.
The room is small, but luckily he is used to small rooms with little items in them. He places his ledger on the pathetic looking desk, and decides to sit on the bed while thinking. Thirty seconds later, he's out like a light.
The forest smells of spring and feels like a forest from a fairytale. This is the type of forest that fairies would dance under the moonlight in, and centaurs would parade around in the sparkling sunshine.
In the center of this forest is a young boy and a beautiful woman in a dark blue gown. The child smiles up at her as she points towards a bare branch. In the tree, there is a bright red cardinal.
The bird chirps, it seems at them and he laughs.
"Little love, look at him. He's singing for you." Lady Crane says and holds her son's hand. Young Ichabod returns the gentle hand holding and watches the cardinal.
In this moment, everything is alright.
Ichabod slowly wakes up as the first rays of golden sunlight are creeping through the small and cracked window. For a moment he lies there, not remembering the last time he had a dream that peaceful.
He can't spend all morning in bed and quickly rises, getting dressed and starting to pace.
Where did Mrs. De Winters disappear too?! Why was she so mean? Who sent that letter? How did he actually sleep? These questions buzz around his mind for a good half hour, until he decides if he spends another moment in this room, he'll go mad. The Constable grabs his overcoat and exits the room.
London is awake as always, except this time the church bells are ringing. Passing in front of the tavern are several men, all dressed in black and carrying a wooden coffin. A few people stop and watch as the funeral parade goes on by. His attention has been caught by this and Ichabod decides to follow them. They make their way to a cemetery and set the coffin down in an open grave. His eyes narrow as he hides behind a grave, watching them with fascination.
"Thank ye for all arriving." The pastor begins and opens up his Bible.
"We have gathered here today to mourn the lost of Mrs. Janice de Winters."
What?! Now Ichabod is confused as hell. He just met Mrs. De Winters and she was more then alive!
He needs to find out what is going on and soon.
The funeral eventually ends and the Constable stands up, brushing himself off and makes a direct line over to the pastor.
"Sir!"
"Ah Constable. A protector of the Lord's city you are. What may I do for ye?" The pastor asks in his rather thick Cockney accent. The constable straightens his cravat and stands as tall as he can.
"Mrs. De Winters-"
"A shame. So young and not wed."
"I see. If I may ask, what did she die of?"
"The plague." He answers simply as if Ichabod is an idiot. He rolls his eyes and somehow remains calm.
"Pardon?"
"Have you not heard? A plague is slowly taking over this city. The Lord must be angry. We must all go to church and pray in these trying times."
The pastor's words echo around Ichabod's mind as he wanders around the cemetery. As he reaches a family tomb for one of the wealthiest families, he spots her. Mrs. De Winters. The plot thickens!
"Ma'am!" He cries out and she turns towards him.
"It's you. The cowardly constable." She replies with a smirk, not knowing that the Constable has gathered up some rare courage in order to face her.
"Start speaking or I shall arrest you for being a suspect in the murder of Mrs. De Winters."
She sighs and takes a seat next to a headstone. Crane watches her with fascination, eagerly waiting for her confession.
"Where do I begin? There never was a Mrs. De Winters."