IV.

"HILDEGARDE! Hurry up with that breakfast tray, won't you?" Mr. Everglot thundered from his upstairs bedroom.

The old maid shook her head as she grabbed the breakfast tray and headed up the stairs to her master's bedroom. She was already halfway up when there was a knock at the door. Emil the butler scuttled over immediately and reached for the doorknob, but Hildegarde was there in an instant, as fast and agile as someone half her age.

She blocked the door with her body and said silkily as if she had nothing to hide, "No need, Emil. Lady Everglot has insisted I collect the mail from now on. She is expecting something only women should know about, so I wouldn't ask her if I were you. It would save you some embarrassment. Would you mind taking up that breakfast tray for me? Thank you, dearie."

The butler raised an eyebrow, but knew Hildegarde well enough to trust her. Besides, he wouldn't want to ask Lady Everglot of any "womanly things" anyway.

What a fool, Hildegarde thought slyly as the butler shrugged and headed for the stairs with the breakfast tray in hand. As quick as a wink, the old maid opened the door, thanked the mailman, and took the pile of letters before shutting the door quietly. She leafed through the mail. She was never snoopy, but she was expecting something from a certain someone.

Goodness, certainly are a lot of bills this week, she thought. The Everglots were deeply in debt, which was why they needed to marry off Victoria in the first place.

Such a sweet girl, thought Hildegarde. She just makes me want to serve her all the more.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Victoria dressed herself this morning. She couldn't sleep a wink, wondering if Victor received her letter and would write back today.

Mustn't get your hopes up, her sensible side urged. Maybe he didn't even read it yet. He might still have feelings for his previous wife.

Oh, come off it, the other side argued. Getting your hopes up is better than having no hope at all.

Victoria straightened her veil nervously, waiting for her maid to bring up the breakfast tray and, hopefully, an envelope addressed to her. She jumped at any sudden noise thinking, Could that be Hildegarde?

But it never was. Victoria was faced off with time, and was forced to wait.

It was only day two. If time was passing this slowly, Victoria felt she would be old and weary by the end of the year. Hopefully Victor would still love her then…

She shook her head. Negativity never solved anything. She had to wait for his reply, then she would decide whether to be negative or not.

The door creaked open and Victoria spun around quickly, barely able to suppress a smile. She was never so happy to see her maid! The young girl rushed over to Hildegarde and beamed down at her.

"Morning, Hildegarde," she said sweetly.

"Your breakfast, dearie," the maid said, setting down the tray on the tiny table near the fire. "And I've got something else for you…"

Victoria's heart fluttered when the old lady reached behind her back, but instead of pulling out a letter, she pulled out a hardcover book.

"I asked your mother to give you something to do," she said. "And she obliged. It's one of my personal books. Enjoy, Victoria." And with that, the maid turned to the door.

Victoria stood there, rooted to the spot with the book in her hands. She was expecting Hildegarde to turn around at any moment and say something like, "Just kidding!" and pull out a letter from Victor from behind her back. But no. Hildegarde shuffled to the door like always and closed it softly behind her, locking it like her mother told her to.

She didn't understand. Victoria sat lifelessly on her bed. Why wouldn't he write back? Did he even receive her letter? Maybe he did. Maybe not. Did he even try writing back? Was he too afraid of what her parents would say? Was he too shy? Whatever the reason, Victoria was not happy about it and tossed the book across the room so it landed in the corner. She wasn't angry with Victor, only a little scared.

Does he really have feelings for his previous wife instead of me?

The thought made her stomach churn, and suddenly, she wasn't hungry anymore.

The hours drifted by as Victoria sat expressionless on her bed and stared out the window on another cold, gray day. She could barely feel the warmth from the fireplace, but didn't feel like moving an inch. Finally, at lunchtime when Hildegarde came in with another tray of food, Victoria started. She hadn't realized she had been motionless for so long.

The maid noticed the untouched tray of food and clucked her tongue.

"What's wrong, dearie?" she asked, setting down the lunch tray and shuffling over to the bed. Victoria only sighed.

"Oh, nothing." She was a horrible liar.

The maid patted the girl's pale hand. "There, there, dear. Now, why don't you have a bite to eat and read a little Shakespeare? Here…" the old woman bent down and picked up the novel Victoria had thrown earlier and dusted it off a bit. She handed the red hardcover to the girl. "Trust me, you'll feel better." And the maid left silently as a mouse.

Victoria set the book aside and picked up a small piece of bread and began to chew. She did feel a little better. Then she started in on her soup. She hadn't realized how hungry she was.

When there wasn't a drop left in her bowl and the slice of bread was reduced to crumbs, Victoria looked around for something to do.

Quilting? She thought to herself. No, no. I did that yesterday…Perhaps I could work on my embroidery…no. I'm not in the mood…I could write something?

Yes, that might have to do for now. She hadn't even glanced at the book at her side, forgetting all about it during the course of her meal.

She got up from her bed and strode over to the writing desk, picking up a piece of yellow parchment and her quill. She wrote about the only thing that was on her mind – the corpse bride. Of course, Victoria didn't know the whole story, so she made one up on her own.

Once upon a time there was a young man who lived in a village in Russia. He was to be married and he and his friend prepared to go to the village where his bride-to-be lived, two days walk from his own village.

The first night the two friends decided to set up camp by a river. The young man who was going to be married spotted an unusual looking stick in the ground that looked like a bony finger. He and his friend started joking about this bony finger sticking out of the ground and the young man who was going to be married took the golden wedding ring from his pocket and put it on the strange-looking stick. And then he started to do the wedding dance around the stick; he danced around the stick with the golden wedding ring three times and he sang the Jewish wedding song, and recited the entire marriage sacrament as he danced around the stick, he and his friend laughing the whole time.

Their fun stopped suddenly when the earth started rumbling and shaking beneath their feet. The place where the stick had been opened up and a very bedraggled looking corpse emerged, a living corpse, she had been a bride, but now was barely more than a skeleton held together by shreds of skin, still wearing an old torn white silk wedding dress. Worms and spider webs hung on the once-beaded bodice and tattered veil. The two young men were aghast. "Ah," she said, "you have done the wedding dance and pronounced the marriage vows and you have put a ring on my finger. Now we are man and wife. I demand my rights as your bride."

Shuddering with terror at the corpse bride's words, the two young men fled to the village where the young bride was waiting to be married. They went straight to the rabbi. "Rabbi," asked the young man breathlessly, "I have a very important question to ask you. If by some chance you're walking in the woods and you happen to see a stick that looks like a long bony finger coming out of the ground and you happen to put a golden wedding ring on the finger and do the wedding dance and pronounce the wedding vows, is this indeed a real marriage?"

Looking very puzzled, the rabbi asked, "Do you know of such a situation?" "Oh no, no, of course not, it's just a hypothetical question." Stroking his long beard thoughtfully, the rabbi said, "let me think about it." And just then, a big gust of wind blew the door open, and in walked the corpse bride. "I lay claim to this man as my husband, for he has placed this wedding ring on my finger and pronounced the solemn marriage vows," she demanded, her bony finger rattling as she shook it at her intended bridegroom.

"This is indeed a very serious matter. I'll have to consult with the other rabbis," said the rabbi. Soon all the rabbis from the surrounding villages were gathered together. They went into conference, while the two young men anxiously awaited their decision. The corpse bride waited on the porch tapping her foot, declaring, "I want to celebrate my wedding night with my husband."

These chilling words made every hair on the young man's body stand on end, though it was a warm summer day. While the rabbis were conferring, the real human bride arrived and wanted to know what all the fuss was about. When her fiancé explained just what had happened, she started weeping, "Oh, my life is ruined, all my hopes and dreams are shattered; I'll never be married, never have a family."

Just then the rabbis came out and asked: "Did you indeed put a gold ring on the finger, and did you dance around it three times and did you indeed pronounce the wedding vows in their entirety?" The two young men who by this time were cowering in a far corner nodded their heads.

Looking very serious the rabbis went back to confer again. And the young bride wept bitter tears, while the corpse bride was by now gloating at the prospect of her long awaited wedding night. After a short while the rabbis solemnly marched out, took their seats, and announced, "Since you put the wedding ring on the finger of the corpse bride and you danced around it three times reciting the wedding vows, we have determined that this constitutes a proper wedding ceremony. Even so, we have decided that the dead have no claim upon the living."

Sighing and murmuring could be heard from all corners, the young bride was especially relieved. The corpse bride, however, howled, "Oh, there goes my last chance for a life; I'll never have my dreams fulfilled now, it's forever lost," and she collapsed on the floor. It was a pathetic sight, a heap of bones in a tattered wedding gown, lying there, lifeless.

Overcome with compassion for the corpse bride, the young bride knelt down and gathered up that old heap of bones, carefully arranging the shredded silk finery and holding her close, half sang, half murmured, as if cradling a crying infant, "Don't worry I'll live your dreams for you, I'll live your hopes for you, I'll have your children for you, I'll have enough children for the two of us and you can rest in peace knowing that our children and our children's children will be well cared for and will not forget us."

Tenderly she closed the eyes of the corpse bride, tenderly she held her in her arms and slowly and with measured steps she marched down to the river with her fragile charge, took her down by the river where she dug a shallow grave for her and laid her in it and crossed the bony arms over the bony chest, the one hand clasping the one with the ring on it, and folded the wedding gown around her. Then she whispered, "May you rest in peace, I will live your dreams for you, don't worry, we will not forget you."

The corpse bride looked happy and at peace in her new grave, as if she somehow knew that she would be fulfilled through this young bride. And the young bride covered up, slowly, the corpse bride, covered up the tattered wedding gown in the shallow grave, covered it all up with earth, then put wildflowers all over the grave and stones all around it.

Then the young bride went back to her fiancé and they were married in a very solemn wedding ceremony and they lived many happy years together. And all their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren were always told the story of the corpse bride, and so she was not forgotten, nor was the wisdom and compassion she had taught them forgotten either.

She lifted her pen and ceased writing. She read it over. Again and again. This wasn't what happened at all, but, Victoria realized, she felt it could have. Perhaps this was what the corpse bride was feeling when she found out about Victor seeing Victoria? Angry, betrayed, lonely, sadness? But perhaps the end was what Victoria wished to say to the corpse bride. "I'll live your dreams for you…"

Victoria shook her head, deciding she was being silly, and stuffed the papers away in a drawer. Still, it couldn't help to dream…

Well, what now? She had a book. What did it matter that Victor had decided not to write? Victoria reached out for the beautifully blood red book with silver letters forming the words "Romeo and Juliet."

She grinned and piled up pillows at the head of her bed, settled down with a flickering candle on her nightstand, and began to read.

It was beautifully written, and the romance and suspense was killing her. Hours passed by without her even noticing, until the sky grew darker and darker and Victoria read the last sentence of the book aloud to herself.

''For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'"

Victoria almost cried. The story was so heartbreaking, yet so beautiful. She needed a good cry that had nothing to do with her own troubles. She reached over to her nightstand (the candle was only an inch high by now) to grab her handkerchief, but the book had slipped off her lap and onto the floor. Victoria quickly reached down and pulled it back up onto the bed, when she noticed something slipped out of it.

"Oh, I do hope I haven't ripped a page…"

The girl leaned down again and took hold of the parchment. But it wasn't the page of a book at all.

It was an envelope.

Breathless, hardly daring to believe it, the girl hurriedly sat back on her pillows and slit open the envelope quickly. She pulled out the letter, feeling as if she were in a dream. She read it in a whisper.

Dear Victoria,

My daily routine is hardly worth doing without thinking I may see you at the end of the day! I, too, miss you very much, and time could never go slower. The corpse bride you ask? Emily. Her name was Emily. And, yes. She was very noble, indeed. We shall never forget her.

I was just walking through the streets today (father needed help with the fish counting…ugh) when I looked up and I saw you! Standing with your back turned on your balcony. I wanted to call out to you, but I noticed your mother and…well, you can understand she makes me nervous.

Mourning does sound quite a bore. I wish I could just see you again! You can't come out to your balcony, I've heard from Hildegarde. There must be another way. I can hardly stay sane without you to bring that light into my life…forgive me if I seem forward. I could never say something like this face to face with you…unless you count last night where my mouth just wouldn't listen to my head!

Please write back soon. I long for the mornings when your letters come.

I miss you very much.

With love and impatience,

Victor

Victoria finished on a very happy note. She realized a few things:

One, Victor cared very much for her.

Two, so he did see her on her balcony! She hope he hadn't seen her rear end sticking up in the air when she leaned out too far…

And three…the corpse bride finally had a name.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

DISCLAIMER! I do not own any of the characters reflected in this story. They are all property of Tim Burton. The story Victoria writes about the corpse bride is not mine at all – it's the real folktale of the corpse bride. I thought it would be neat that Victoria was the one who wrote it… AUTHOR'S NOTE

Again, thanks so much for reading! (PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMER!) Really, do it. This is an especially long chapter, but that's because of the folktale Victoria writes (again, SEE DISCLAIMER!). You know what? Almost every single story written on about romances in the Corpse Bride is all about Victor and Emily, and a lot bash Victoria. I don't like it. I really don't. I've said so many times; Victor loves Victoria. He loved Emily, too, but in a different way, not really romantic. Emily and Victoria would have been such great friends… Well, comment as always! Thank you so much for reading!