Updated 4/5/16
One two three four, two two three four, three two three four, four two three four, flat. Georgia groaned as she struck the f flat again. It was not a complicated piece, but it certainly was strange to her classical ears. She wondered if it was a folk piece, but could not be sure. Alfonse Frankenstein swore he had never heard it before.
"Is it not one of the pieces you brought with you?" He questioned as he looked over the page. "What is that on the bottom? An admirer? His penmanship lacks discipline. What sort of fellow was he that gave this to you?"
Victor seemed ill at ease the more his father pried. It did not escape Georgia's notice. Her phantom of the night was connected to him. As to how they were connected, she could not say. Did Victor know someone came to her at night? Or that she had been visited for the past several evenings? Why would he not say anything?
Elizabeth fretted over him like a dutiful wife and had tea brought to all of them. She smiled meekly at Georgia; she had run out of excuses for Victor. Georgia finally tore her gaze from her fair friend to speak with her merry host.
"Yes, I do believe it was a young man in England. He was painfully shy if I recall. It must have been given to me before my father passed." Her emerald eyes fell back on the music; guilt plagued her, but she could find no other way of explaining how it had come to her. The Frankenstein's were a friendly family, heedless of rumors and gossip, they thrived only on life and happiness, but even they could never respect her for allowing a strange man to approach her in her private quarters. Indeed, she felt a strong sensation that Alfonse would be disappointed in her. Her affinity with him was becoming stronger as he reminded her so much of her departed father.
"Well, the lad is quite far away now," he laughed. "Will you sing what you have for us?"
Her gaze flickered beyond the window of the Frankenstein parlor to the forest line. It was too chilly of a day for them to keep the windows open, but Georgia wondered if her visitor could hear her. Placing her right hand near the end of the piano with her other hand on the center keys, Georgia began her steady rhythm.
"By the meadow did I dream
of thy love so sweetly
as soft as ringing bells
in your arms my heart doth dwell"
"Shame you broke the lad's heart," joked Alfonse. "'Tis a splendid piece and played too beautifully by the most talented pianist of our time!"
Georgia blushed and Elizabeth implored her father to cease his adoration. "Shall we go for a walk?" Asked Georgia as she rose from her piano. Alfonse blanched.
"My dear, it is quite cool!"
"Fresh air will rejuvenate me. This music is new to me and a bit frustrating. I think a short walk around the grounds will help me clear my mind," she countered.
"Who really gave you that music?" Snapped Victor suddenly. He rose from his seat, leaving Elizabeth to gape. His gaze burned into her, frightening her.
"Victor! What in heaven's name?" Cried his father. "Miss Daniels, please forgive my son, he has been under a great deal of stress lately. Please, take your stroll. Take Nettie with you."
A smile was on his face, but not his eyes. Victor's behavior scared her more than the unknownness of her nightly visitor. Folding the sheet of music into her pocket Georgia was a momentarily distracted from being caught in the awkward exchanges between the Frankenstein family. Georgia quickly took her leave and fetched Nettie.
A cool breeze served as a bitter reminder that winter was not a season to be trifled with, certainly not in a foreign country where they were the guests. Nettie and Georgia endured it by thinking of how the sun would return soon and with it, the soft warmth of spring. But Georgia's thoughts weren't on the weather, her mind lingered on him.
"Victor Frankenstein had no right to speak to you like that. He has some nerve. I will write Sir John at once," declared Nettie.
"No, Nettie, Mr. Frankenstein is embarrassed by his son. If Sir John summons us now they shall be insulted!"
"You should be insulted, Miss." Nettie stopped in horror. "Pardon me, Miss, I have stepped far from my station. Forgive me, please. I love you too dearly to watch Victor attack you like that."
The hair on Georgia's neck stood on end, a telltale sign that her watcher was nearby. Could he hear them? What thoughts were passing through his mind? What thoughts were passing through her own mind? Was she so enthralled by romances that she convinced herself she was in one?
Nettie sighed loudly. The day was wearing on and it would be dark soon. When Georgia returned to the house she felt a solemn stillness in the air. Victor, it seems, had disappeared. Elizabeth informed her that he left often, much to their chagrin. His leaving always came at the worst of times. Elizabeth became even more withdrawn than before and the copy of Sense and Sensibility Georgia lent her remained untouched in the drawing room. Georgia would remove it later to her own care once more.
But the Frankenstein's family neglect would not prevent Georgia from exploring her phantom. Once she was free to retire she returned to her room, she locked herself in from the rest of house but left the patio unlocked. The hearth roared with a fire made earlier by a servant, it sat opposite of the patio door. Her bed sat neatly just a few feet from the main door and the hearth. Her piano sat pressed against the windows on the wall adjacent to the patio. She would not be able to see her guest enter and the curtains over the windows prevented her from spying his reflection.
"In your arms my heart doth dwell. . ." She sang, finally getting the notes right. She paused for a moment and tried to decipher the next two lines. Silently, she tapped out the notes, hearing them in her head before she felt comfortable enough to play them. After the fourth time she played the melody and the countermelody, she decided to try singing the next stanza.
By meadows did I dream
of thy love so sweetly
as water of sparkling stream
coats the golden reeds
The final note faltered and Georgia froze. For a moment, she wondered if she would ever relax around her visitor. She forced her shoulders back down and shook the tension from her hands.
"It's beautiful," he declared with his oddly inflected and delicately broken voice. He seemed sad and forlorn to her.
"Do you have the rest?" She asked without turning.
"No."
"Why do you come?"
"To hear you play. To hear you sing. It is beautiful."
"May I turn?" She asked. Behind her, she heard shuffling as her visitor hid behind her dressing screen.
"Will you play anymore?" Asked her companion weakly.
Georgia turned fully, facing the screen. Behind the screen her large visitor crouched as best he could. She could see his shadow on the floor, it stretched out towards the freedom it had given up. She bent to extinguish the candles sitting atop her piano. As each light was snuffed out the room blanketed itself in darkness like a mantle of secrets.
"Not tonight," she replied softly. She was terrified, but her fear propelled her, she would unravel the mystery that was her visitor. "Tonight I want to speak with you, sir."
He shuffled once more behind the screen. No one had ever wanted to talk to him before, not unless he made them. Was he forcing her to speak with him? He was in her room, but she left the door unlocked, she played and sang his song. "I am no 'sir' or lord or any sort of gentleman or gentry."
Georgia frowned in the dullness of the room. "Then what shall I call you?" She asked plainly.
"Nothing," came his response. "For now, I have no name, no identity. I am the silent wind blowing in the summer."
"You are a poet," she retorted with a smile. "But enough banter. You've come to me. Why?"
The door was right there. He had but to run to it and he would be free. Oh! How his heart betrayed and taunted him! Because you are beautiful, he thought, though he knew better than to say it. She was well read and too thoughtful and clever to be merely summed up as beautiful.
"You make me feel human. You are my last hope. The music you play," he whimpered in unknown tragic pain, "is divine. I am at peace and the tempest is sedated."
Georgia sat on her bed and eyed the screen. For a brief moment she caught a glance of the figure behind it. A dark, patchy cowl hid his face, but he was there. He was real; she felt at ease being able to see any part of him.
"What a curious thing to say, dear poet." She paused for a moment. "Will you come tomorrow?"
From the shadows came a sigh, one of elation and relief. "Yes," replied the broken voice. "If that is your wish, Miss Daniels."
As he said her name she heard the fear and horror that followed it. He froze like a caught deer, desiring to flee but having nowhere to run. His shattered heart screamed and the tempest he thought had been quelled flared to life. If she hated him in that instant, if she screamed in horror that he spied on her the way the De Lacey's had, he would end her then and there. He would walk into the Frankenstein house and kill all that it contained.
"Georgia," she said. He melted in that moment. He could do nothing to her now. Nothing except love every piece of her. She was his mistress and he was at her mercy, although she did not know it.
"Georgia," he repeated with adoration. Her name on his lips tasted like sweet berries. He loved and desired her with a passion unknown to him. "I will return, Georgia, if that is your wish."
Her lips curled slightly. "It is, poet." She then reached up to the clips that bound her hair.
"Don't!" He pleaded. Georgia let her hands fall to her sides. She asked no questions of him but instead turned from him. He lacked the strength to watch her so closely. As he went to the door of the patio she spoke to him once more.
"Don't be afraid of me."
He then threw another gift for her to the floor and fled her room. Georgia trembled and sighed. Silent tears fell down her face. She stood from her bed and went to lock the patio door. Where he went, she could not say. Part of her was glad he was gone, the other part wanted him to stay. When she turned from the door she saw what he left behind for her. A single snowdrop stared mournfully up at her. To her delight, it wasn't crushed like the bundle she discovered when she first came to the country.
When she was finally ready for bed, she kept the blossom close to her heart and dreamt of a prince. He was gallant and tall, and he would save her from the uncertain future that awaited her in England.