Fright Night 1985

Twist of Fate

Chapter Twelve

by

~GaGa4FrightNight~

~Vendehla~

Jerry laid there, laid within the shadows and the silence of his bed chamber. Beside him Thea lay asleep with her left hand rested against his chest. His head turned and looked to her shadowed face. So peaceful, he thought, she also slept as an angel. His lips softly smiled as he rested a hand over hers. There should only be contentment as he lay beside her but those troublesome thoughts concerning Yolanda continued to conflict him. He was unable to sleep, those many threats Yolanda screamed echoed in his mind.

His head turned and eyes looked upward at the vaulted and beamed ceiling visible through the vacant frame of the canopy structure. His eyes closed, not in sleep but in thought. His brow tensed, furrowed and created those distinct lines. His jaw flexed as it clenched. So much trouble, he thought, in such a mediocre amount of time just because of Yolanda's unwanted entrance into his family home. Just as much trouble as several years prior…

Several Years Earlier

The manor was typically silent for that time in the evening. Most had already retired for the evening, the staff as usual were clustered in their servant section unwinding from a day of chores. Lady Regine had retired with her husband Kristof. Yet, the Lord of the manor had not, in fact he had not returned from the nearby village.

It was typical in those days that Lord Dandridge would find a type of solace from his self misery with the locals, drinking pints after pints of English ale and soothing his woes with the affections of the tavern wenches or barmaids. His days were spent in the solitude of the manor's large study, tending the need to the finances of the large estate and the running of the township. But, upon the evening he would demand a saddled horse and depart for the village.
On that night, he returned as usual late in the evening. The horse was taken care of by the designated horse caretaker and to the manor he somewhat staggered. His senses were well numbed, paralyzed his miseries to nearly a fault. Many had no understanding why he continuously mourned the loss of his beloved wife, she had passed twelve years prior and still he mourned. He had a need to punish himself for he blamed her death on himself, his child she carried caused her death. No he did not blame the unborn child, he blamed himself, believed that he was cursed to be wifeless and childless which undoubtedly prevented him from truly loving another woman.

Into the manor he entered with slightly uneven steps. He was greeted, as usual, by Lawrence who took his cloak. "Good evening, Lawrence." he greeted, "And thank you, my good man."

"Evening, My Lord," Lawrence politely responded, "Will there be anything you might need, My Lord?"

Jerry thought for a moment with a slight sway in his stance then grinned at the doorman, "There be a lot I need, Lawrence." he slightly chuckled, "But for now, I need a stiff brandy." he stepped forward, "I shall tend to that need in the parlor."

"Aye, very good, My Lord." Lawrence said then slightly sighed, thought pity for the Lord who always returned each night in the same state. He turned and took care of the cloak.

Jerry found his way to the parlor. Upon opened the door he discovered he would not be alone in tending to his need for an aged brandy. In a type of reluctance he entered the parlor, seated on the sofa was Lady Yolanda who truly was the last individual he desired to see or be alone with. "Good evening," he politely greeted and made his way to the Venetian liquor table.

"Good evening, My Lord." Yolanda sang with a smile, her eyes closely followed the lord's somewhat intoxicated stroll across the room, "And how might you be this lovely evening?

"Very well, thank you." Jerry responded and snatched up a crystal brandy glass then poured quarter a glass, "And you, might I ask?" He quickly downed the brandy and proceeded to pour another.

"Very well, My Lord." Yolanda said, her eyes widely focused on the Lord.

He downed the second pour of brandy then loudly hummed. There was nothing better than a good aged brandy to continue to dull his miseries. He set down the glass and looked to Yolanda who oddly stared at him. "And why be you are not asleep?" he inquired, tried to be pleasant and hint that she should leave him be.

"For I am unable, My Lord." she answered, sat perfectly still with her eyes barely giving a blink, "For much be on my mind, a many a thought, My Lord."

"Aye, well perhaps you should consider a brandy." he suggested, "Brandy be a good way to lull one to sleep."

"Brandy will not do, My Lord." she responded then slowly rose up off the sofa.

"Hmm," he hummed then grinned, "Have you not tried?"

She slowly shook her head then stepped forward and stated, "In honesty, I wish not to sleep, not until I have but cleared my mind of these thoughts."

He slightly shrugged then poured another glass of brandy and commented, "Some thoughts be best drowned in brandy and unspoken." He quickly downed the third glass and again hummed, felt the desirable effects already begin. "Aye," he oddly chimed, "Much better."

She approached him then asked, "Are you not curious of my thoughts, My Lord?"

He made brief thought then shook his head and confessed, "Not at the least for I lack curiousness of my very own." He chuckled and proceeded to pour another glass.

She paused a few feet from him, watched him down another glass of brandy. "Rude would it be if I were to share my thoughts with you, My Lord?" she asked, her wide and nearly black eyes studied his side profile, "It would assist in easing my troublesome mind if you would not mind."

He set the glass down then reluctantly looked to her. "Ah, but alas I am in no state to play confident." he confessed, more so not interested for there was an inkling what thoughts were on her mind which was given evidence by her demeanor throughout he stay there at the estate. "I must apologize but I be the worst choice for a confident by reasons you can obviously see." he explained with an amused grin, "You best save your thoughts for someone more qualified and in a better state of mind."

"But these thoughts concern you, My Lord." she confessed, "My thoughts always be of concern with you, always."

"And pity I have for your thoughts." he bluntly stated, "Pity I have for you being with thoughts concerning me."

"Do not pity me." she quickly responded but with an odd calmness, "For I do not pity myself. Thoughts of you are nothing to be pitied."

He huffed and shifted his eyes from hers. "I have nothing more to offer." he stated with more seriousness, "You waste your energies, Yolanda, your time, your thoughts," he looked to her with that firm seriousness, "I am but a waste. You best find a better means to occupy your thoughts in which do not include me." There was no idea, no more he could to do or say to convince her that what thoughts she had towards him would never be returned.

"Why say such a thing?" she asked with a tilt of her head. She reached out to him, her hand grazed his arm but he drew back, "There be nothing wrong occupying my thoughts with you for they have always been so." she took a step closer, again attempted to touch him but again he drew back, "Have I not been forthright? I have always let it be known my feelings for you. You need not to suffer and be miserable no more for I am but more than willing to ease all that ails you."

He felt somewhat cornered and took a desperate step back. "Aye, forthright you have been." he agreed but a slight tone of disdain, "Yet, you need not be for have I not been clear that I have no intentions towards you whatsoever?" His eyes frowned against the slight blur the brandy's effects caused but her expression was clear and strange.

"But that can easily be remedied, you know this." she sang almost sweetly and again stepped forward in hopes that he would allow her to touch him, "Why do you hesitate? I am but more able than the whores that keep your company. I am much more pleasant than those commoners that share your stupors. I am but more than willing to assist you in forgetting her and your loss and pain that all but have consumed you."

"Too willing," he suddenly snapped with spite, "You be too persistent in nearly desperation to obtain my affections when there be no affections for me to give."

"Oh but wrong you be." she said with a smile, "There be plentiful affections for you to give. All that need be is you to simply relent, accept that we were by right truly intended."

"Intended once," he loudly corrected, "That was relinquished, as you know, the moment the arrangement with my wife was made. And since then, not once were we intended and," he nearly sneered, felt the need to be cruel to get her to understand, "And never shall we be intended, that you must accept!"

"I will not!" she suddenly barked back and took a firm step forward. Her black eyes burned into his, the determination practically blackened them more. "Nothing be final. There be nothing written that says our union be impossible! I refuse to accept!"

"And then for that, I pity you!" he grumbled back at her. He watched her sweet demeanor suddenly crumble, her expression twisted with hatred. He glared back at her then stated, "You shall never be my wife! I have but already had a wife and she be lost to me forever! Not you nor any woman shall replace my wife!"

"You be wrong!" she shouted, her hands clenched fistfuls of her satin skirting, "You be so wrong! You are in denial, denial that you and I were always meant to web as it was intended before she came along!"

"Denial!" he shouted back then mockingly laughed, "I know no such denial but it be you who are blindingly in great denial!" he took another step forward and snatched her by the shoulders, "I do not love you! I shall never love you! Therefore, you shall never be my wife nor do I wish you to be! Am I understood?!"

"You blatantly refuse me?!" she snapped with question, her tone bitter, "You dare refuse my gracious offer to give you my love and my heart?!"

"Aye!" he shouted and released her with a slight shove, "Aye I do!"

"No!" she screamed and swiftly swung then ruthlessly smacked him across the face, "I take not your refusal!" She again swung with the other hand but this time her fingers curled and with a harsh blow her nails clawed the side of his face. "You shall be mine!" she shouted, "No matter what needs be done, you shall be mine!"

He stood stunned, felt the sting of the scratches against his cheek. His hand lifted and touched the against the claw marks then lowered. His eyes tensely frowned, saw the glisten of blood smeared across his fingers. His eyes lifted and looked to the almost insane expression that twisted her face. "You are mad." he lowly grumbled, "You have lost your damned mind!"

"Oh I am not mad!" she objected then suddenly snatched the crystal flute of brandy and with rage threw it and sent it shattering against the wall. "Oh, you be the one mad for refusing me!" she snarled, her eyes wild and maddened, "A very stupid mistake you have done made, Lord Dandridge!" her lips formed a sneered smirk, "There shall come a moment where you will have but no option than to accept our destined union, that I promise!"

He ignored her insane promise then stated, "Tomorrow you leave!"

"Oh that I shall!" she loudly agreed then darted forward and snatched the frill of his shirt, "But upon my return you will be mine."

He swiftly snatched her wrists and jerked her grip from his shirt then shoved her back. "No, you will not return." he aimed his finger at her, "I forbid your return to my home, understood?"

"Forbid all you like," she snipped followed by a wicked cackle then her face became deadly serious, "Oh, but I shall return and when I do, there shalt be a single force that shall prevent me from taking what be rightfully mine. Am I understood, Lord Jeremiah Dandridge?"

Slowly he demanded, "Get out!" He aimed his finger at the parlor door.

She took a step back, the menace brilliantly glaring in her blackened eyes. "You shall be mine, that I promise, my love." she insanely sang, "You shall only be mine as it be always meant."

"GET OUT!" he again demanded with a loud shout, kept his finger aimed at the door.

She chuckled then straightened her posture, chin lifted. "Good night." she chimed with the wickedness twisted across her smirked lips. She lifted her hand, the hand that struck the clawed blow. Her eyes widely studied the evidence that stained her nails. Her eyes shifted and looked to him as he stood still firmly pointing at the door. To her lips she lifted her hand then tucked a finger between her lips tasting the sweetness of his blood.

She again laughed then turned but not without knocking over the furniture in her path. Glass shattered as vases and collectibles struck the floor. She continued to laugh in midst of creating a path of destruction. At the doors she paused and turned, her smirk unchanged. Again she eagerly tasted the blood that stained her finger. "Again, good night." she snidely said then left the parlor, slammed the door purposefully behind her.

Jerry slowly lowered his arm, his eyes scanned the mess left behind in the aftermath of Yolanda's insane fit. He took a deep breath and lowly grumbled as he exhaled. His hand lifted and touched the side of his face, the sting still present. He somewhat startled upon the parlor door opening. His eyes darted and discovering the housemaid Tayte entering. His head turned, the brandy no more. e stormed without a word to Tayte to find another location in the manor where the brandy was kept.

Though he claimed to Yolanda that he would never again love another, in that moment it was the truth of his state of mind but the truth became another. A couple years after Yolanda's threats and promises, a moment came where he fell so far beneath his self inflicted misery and punishment. He struck himself down, years and years of drowning sorrows with ale, brandy, and useless womanly affections brought him far beneath despair. Emotionally and physically his lifestyle of self destruction took its tole and nearly his life.

For many days the Lord Dandridge remained nearly unconscious, found in that manner by a local farmer laid out on a rain stricken and muddy road ditch. For three days he had been missing, no one new how long he had laid in the rain in that condition. It truly looked dire for the Lord, the township having no true physician as of yet, no Dr. Aiden McHoolihee had not taken the position. Lady Regine, the sister, was desperate for her dear brother's care and placed her hopes and confidence into the kind hands of the long time servant Thea. Regine trusted no one other than Thea, not even Thea's identical twin Tayte who was more harsh and firm in demeanor. There was no real understanding what possessed Regine to give Thea the role as caretaker besides the fact of Thea's sweetness and nearly motherly caring.

And so, it was Thea who stayed at the Lord's side for those many days. She cared for him tirelessly and throughout it all there was nothing but gentle kindness and always her sweet smile. As he lay in that unsettled state, a dangerous fever made him delusional and caused him to ramble, she did everything imaginable to keep the fever from consuming his mind. Nearly icy soaked blanket were tucked around him as she diligently rubbed his feet to draw the fever from his head. She ate and slept in his chamber. She read to him from many passages from William Shakespeare. She told him stories of her life as an orphan, humorous tales of when she and Tayte worked for the McHoolihee household and how Tayte would persistently and purposefully torment poor Aiden when they were children. And throughout it all there was a smile across her lips.

Then came the moment, the time the Lord truly opened his eyes with clearness and the first face he saw was an angel's.

Jerry's brown eyes fluttered open, the weight of his ordeal heavy across his lids and brow. There was barely any recollection of what had happened. His mind was fogged by days of being conflicted with the fever. It took a few moment before his vision truly cleared yet his mind remained confused. He felt the weakness the illness had caused, his body felt stiff and achy.

His eyes shifted, recognized the ceiling of his chamber. He heard the crackling of the fireplace but there was another sound, unfamiliar. His eyes shifted, guided his head stiffly to the right. His brow furrowed not recognized the figure asleep in a chair near the bed. Obvious to him that the figure was feminine as she sat awkward in the winged back chair nearly slumped down against the padded arm and a patchwork quilt somewhat draped over her slumped shoulders. He took notice of her chestnut brown hair that was somewhat messed with bits of tussled ringlets that draped and veiled her face from his sight.

His eyes focused, there was no real energy inside his weakened body to move. He lay there silently, listened to the sounds of her sleepy breaths mingle with the fireplace crackles. How did he not know who she was? Was she someone brought from the village to care for him? Where was his sister? Where were the household staff?

His eyes refocused upon the sleeping bundle sounding a soft moan. He watched closely as she finally moved. Her head lay nearly slumped over then finally moved and lifted from the awkward position. Her arm slid out from beneath the quilt then she slightly slapped her hand against the side of her face as her head lifted a glimpse of her face as her head leaned back against the cushion of the high back of the chair. He watched closely as her finger lazily brushed away the veil of messed hair. His brow tensed, he knew her face. Her eyes remained closed as she continued to wake. Both her hands clumsily fumbled to rid her face of her hair. The more her face was revealed, the tension about his brow lessened. She sleepily licked her lips and rubbed them together while stretching her arms then loudly yawned which prompted a slight smile across his dry lips.

How had never noticed her before? Truly he knew she was one of the household servants.

Her eyes finally opened and he immediately saw the light hazel shade of her large eyes. Then her eyes looked to him and within those eyes he saw a development of sweet brightness. He held his breath the moment he saw a genuine smile brighten the lovely features of her face. How had he ever not truly seen her? How did he not know her name? Had he been so consumed with his miseries that every moment he may have crossed her path within that massive manor, he not once noticed her? How could one never take notice of an angel?

Thea held her sweet smile as she fumbled to relieve herself of the entanglement of the quilt. She nervously giggled, knew she looked a mess and was having such a difficult time with the quilt. "One moment, My Lord." she sweetly said with another giggle followed.

His lips broadened a bit more with the smile. He watched her stand up and kick her way out of the quilt bundled around her ankles. He found her giggles adorable and in deed charming.

Thea grimaced and gave her foot a good jerk relieving it of the quilt but stumbled a bit. She quickly smiled again and looked to the Lord, was he possibly smiling? "The Lady Regine shall be overjoyed that you be awake, My Lord." she sang while trying to gather the length of her hair back, "Apologies, My Lord, I must look a fright."

No, he thought, not a fright, she looked remarkably beautiful.

She stepped up to the bed, felt truly ecstatic that he finally woke from his illness. She gave a gracious curtsy then greeted, "I be Thea, My Lord," she knew and understood likely he never knew her name, "Welcome back, My Lord."

His smile faded, should he speak? Could he speak?

"My Lord, shall I fetch you food and drink, hmm?" she sweetly asked, noticed his smile fade, "You must be starved and quite parched, been many days now."

Days, he questioned in thought, felt like years. He slowly nodded and watched her expression brighten even more.
"Very good, My Lord!" she excitedly praised, "I shall be but a moment." She turned and gathered up the quilt and set it on the chair. "An appetite be a good sign, in deed!" she sang and moved around the large canopy bed, "I shall be return shortly, I promise." She hurried from the chamber.

How, he thought, was there anyone remotely as boisterous and pleasant as Thea in that world? He watched the door close. His eyes lightly fluttered, still exhausted. Yet, the moment he closed his eyes he again saw her angelic face which prompted another smile across his lips. Perhaps, he thought, there were such things as angels on Earth. And to think, for many years that angel had been right before his misery blinded eyes and it took a near deathly illness to truly open his eyes.

But, a struggle of sorts was triggered inside him. For all those long and miserable years he thought of no one else but his deceased wife. He kept himself miserable, suffering in nonstop mourning. He did everything imaginable to keep his misery alive though at the same time he desperately tried to drown it as well. Then, upon opening his eyes for what felt like the first time, he saw something that was not misery, suffering, anguish, or mourning. He saw the most brilliant of smiles he had ever witnessed, filled with sweetness, kindness, and undoubted care. And that caused a struggle, for all he had known in all those years was so negative that a glimpse of true positivity seemed almost wrong or unnatural.

Jerry continued his recovery while internally he continued with that emotional struggle. That hazel eyed and chestnut haired angel stayed those days of his physical recovery but only strengthened a new type of guilt inside him. There was guilt if he dared enjoy her continuous tales. There was a growth of guilt when he silently indulged in the sweet sounds of her laughter. The guilt built when he found himself staring at her, studied every detailed of her smiling eyes, lips, and every lovely and life filled expression throughout her face.

And throughout it all, he kept silent, spoke not a word to her. He spoke to Regine when she visited his chamber. Yet, he could not find a word or perhaps the right voice and did not speak to Thea. Though he was silent, perhaps seemed rude or snobbish, that sweetness about her did not diminish but seemed to brighten all the more.

Then came the time when Thea's care was no longer needed, his strength returned and in so many ways was much more. He no longer had the urge to drown himself with ales or brandy. He had no desire to seek the affections of the village tavern's wenches, Though there was still a guilt for having taken complete notice of Thea, he sensed himself changed. His focus was more keen on the needs of the household, the land, and the township. Yet, emotionally his focus was drawn towards that beacon of light with pale hazel eyes and chestnut hair and a smile that seemed had the ability to brighten even the stormiest of days and those storms inside him seemed to dissipate.

He was always watchful whenever Thea entered a room he was in. He studied her every action. He listened to her every word and loved the moments she laughed. Every day he anticipated, even if briefly, the moment he would see and hear her. Yes, he knew she was one of two but upon his study, there were definite differences between the twins which held his focus completely on Thea. The guilt, had come to a peak and when it had, it faded. Why, he would constantly think, should there be guilt? Had he not suffered enough? Did he not deserve another opportunity for happiness? He made the determination that his time to finally move forward had come.

Upon his choice to finally let his past go he made a final farewell to the wife he had lost. He had the portrait removed from where it had hung for all those years and hung on the wall where the portraits of previous generations were hung. It was now his time to continue to live. His life needed meaning. His existence desired depth. But most of all, he needed and desired to again be loved and admitted to himself he had in deed again was given the capability to love. To admit to himself that he finally again loved another, that his heart had finally mended and opened, was his final step into completely finding himself. He realized that to completely embrace himself he needed to speak freely and finally confess to the hazel eyed and chestnut haired angel that she had won his heart and most of all, his love.

His eyes opened. Jerry rolled onto his side and looked to the peacefulness through his angel's face as she slept. He lifted her left hand, his eyes focused on her lovely face, then his lips pressed a kiss against the emerald ring. He held her hand in his. Without her, he may have again returned to his life of self destruction and finally embraced his misery even stronger and allow to completely devour him. If it had not been for her, his angel, he would not exist. Because she existed, he existed.

He held her hand against his heaving chest and listened to her softly sigh. The dread was there within his troubled eyes. Could Yolanda find a way to take everything from him? Could an insane notion of destiny tear apart everything he finally achieved? And could that devil woman's determination be succeeded in the form of something dark and supernatural and made of pure evil?

"Nothing shall destroy us." he whispered in promise, "No matter what darkness comes, there be not an immortal or mortal being that shall sever my love for you." he paused as she stirred and softly hummed then confidently stated with a breath, "My Angel you be."

He leaned and pressed a soft and gentle kiss against her warm cheek then rested his cheek against hers. His eyes closed, listened to her soft breaths. He determined no risk would be taken, no concept shall be overlooked. If Yolanda's determination came in the form of a supernatural means he would do whatever it took to make certain no harm would come to his beloved angel. He lost love once and refused to allow the purest of love he had ever known to be taken from him. He vowed that very moment in silence he would fight for them no matter how fatal or destructive the form might come.

"I love you." he whispered.

"I love you." Thea responded in her sleep.

His lips formed a smile but again it faded.

(Author)

Lit a fire under my ass for this one! Just wanted to give y'all a little more insight to Yolanda's nuttiness and the moment Jerry became smitten with Thea. So, when will Yolanda make her grand return? How will this brewing nightmare turn out! Oh, I got some serious twists in store for you, my Fright Night friends!

FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!