4

For the space of a heartbeat, the three of them stared at the apparition before them. Mayhew was the first to take off running back to the path. Victor grabbed Victoria by the hand and set off after him. There was no way she could keep up. His legs were twice as long as hers and she was both heavily corseted and completely unused to physical exercise.

"Wait, wait!" she cried after she stumbled over her skirts and nearly fell. "Let go, let go!" She tugged her hand out of his and gathered up her skirts to nearly around her waist. They were incredibly heavy. Were they always this heavy? But the freedom of her limbs was astonishing. Now she could run, and run she did, with Victor keeping pace beside her. Fluttering and cawing echoed through the woods around them. The air was sharp and cold.

Victoria was winded almost immediately. She couldn't draw in any air with how tightly she was laced. But still she ran. Even when her throat and legs began to burn and dark spots started to pulse at the edges of her vision. She didn't want to fall behind. She didn't dare turn back to see if they were being followed. Oh, what a blessing that they hadn't gone too far into the woods. The village lights were like a beacon in the distance, nearing all the time. Victoria pushed herself harder, her breath ragged.

They caught up to Mayhew at the bridge. He'd collapsed, wheezing terribly, right in the middle of it. He pounded at his chest, but that only brought on a coughing fit. Victor bent over double, breathing hard.

Victoria dropped her skirts, absolutely certain that she was going to pass out. She lurched forward a few steps and then let herself sink down next to the still-hacking Mayhew. Her pulse was thudding in her ears and her lungs were burning. She could not catch her breath. She put a hand to her chest, trying to will herself to breathe slowly. Sweat was running down her face, swiftly cooling in the chill air. She could feel escaped wisps of hair tickling at her face and sticking to her forehead. She leaned back against the stone of the bridge and looked back at the forest.

There was nothing there. Everything was quiet. Even the crows had gone.

"Are we...are we all right?" Victor gasped at last. He turned a full circle, casting his eyes about in every direction. "Did it follow us?"

"I don't think so," Victoria replied as she scanned the treeline, the cemetery, the church. She swiped at the sweat on her forehead. Mayhew's breathing was beginning to scare her. It was rattly and labored. He was the color of a new cheese. Then he coughed one huge cough and straightened up. Unbelievably, he dug for his pipe.

"Oh no, left it back there, didn't I?" Mayhew muttered to himself. "Glad I've got an extra." He pulled a second pipe from another pocket and started to fill it with shaking hands. Victor, deathly pale and wide-eyed, turned to Victoria.

"Was that a—was that—did I actually see that?" he managed to stammer. Victoria put her hands to her face and rubbed hard, as though to wake herself up.

"Yes," she said, looking up at him. "Yes, you did. And so did I." Mayhew nodded, the glow of his pipe lighting up his face briefly as he puffed, staring into the middle distance.

All three of them jumped and cried out when a clanging bell sounded just behind them. Mayhew almost dropped his pipe and he fumbled to catch it. Victoria's heart must have stopped briefly, for she felt it kick back into life, fast as a rabbit's. Victor had cringed as though expecting a blow.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" shouted the crier. How had he managed to creep up so quietly? He was standing on the far side of the bridge, bellowing directly at them. "Victor Van Dort and Victoria Everglot have returned from what looks to have been a very strenuous walk! Chaperone nowhere to be seen!"

"I'm right here, mate," said Mayhew as he got to his feet. He tipped his cap at the crier.

There was a slight pause. Then again came the bell. "Hear ye, hear ye! Something mysterious sighted this night in the woods near the cemetery! We are awaiting further information! Details to come!"

Officiously the crier stowed away his bell in his satchel. Then he regarded them in that off-putting way he had. In the silence Victor reached down and gently helped Victoria to her feet. He continued holding her hand after she was upright.

"Well?" the town crier asked as Victor and Victoria, hand in hand, walked toward him across the bridge with Mayhew close behind.

"What?" Victor asked in return. The crier fell into step alongside them as they made for the village gates. Victoria couldn't help a glance over her shoulder, positive the dead woman would be on the bridge. Or right behind them.

But there was nothing. She faced forward again and squeezed Victor's hand, stepping a bit closer to him.

"You wondered if something was following you," the crier elaborated. "And the answer was no. You asked if you'd actually seen something, and it was confirmed. What did you see?"

When nobody answered him the crier cleared his throat importantly and added a swing to his walk. "The public has a right to know," he told them. "It's my duty to keep the populace informed."

Victor and Victoria glanced at each other. What could they say? Who would believe them? Why, Victoria scarcely believed it herself, now that she was walking back into the safety of the village square, toward the lights of her house.

"A bear," Mayhew finally offered. He took off his cap and scratched his head. The town crier squinted at him. "We saw a bear."

"A bear?" repeated the crier in disbelief. "There are no bears in these woods. There haven't been bears here for at least a hundred years."

Mayhew shrugged and offered an awkward little laugh. "Maybe they're making a comeback, eh?"

The crier narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Victor and Victoria offered strained smiles that quickly withered. Mayhew coughed. The crier watched them in silence as Victoria led Victor up the steps to her front door, with Mayhew trailing behind. There was still light visible in the drawing room, and the Van Dort's carriage was still out front.

As they went inside, they heard the crier's bell begin to toll.

"Hear ye, hear ye! Top of the hour of nine o'clock! A bear has been sighted this night in the woods! Keep on the lookout for possible bear activity! At this time of year they are hungry and irritable! Hear ye, hear ye!"

5

"What do we say?" Victor asked in a whisper. The three of them were standing at the drawing room doors. They'd taken a few moments to collect themselves, to brush off the dirt and slush and for Victoria to remove her cape, but still they were all disheveled and a bit hollow-eyed. "Do we tell them?"

"Would they believe us?" Victoria asked in return. Victor and Mayhew looked at each other. Neither answered her. So Victoria took a deep breath and opened the door.

"There you are," Mother said as Victor and Victoria entered the drawing room. Mayhew stayed respectfully just out in the hall. "Where on earth have you been?"

Everyone was staring at them, those same hard stares from during the rehearsal. Her parents and Victor's were sitting on either side of the fireplace. Pastor Galswells was nowhere to be seen.

"And did you learn those vows?" Mrs. Van Dort asked. Her tone was dangerous.

Victoria's stomach flipped. At the thought of the wedding vows she recalled the corpse woman rising out of the ground. The dead woman shrouded in her own wedding veil, rising into the moonlight beside the cemetery. From his quick intake of breath, she thought perhaps the same image had filled Victor's mind.

"Y-y-yes," Victor replied after just the slightest pause. When his mother continued to stare that cold stare, he added, "I did! Ask Mayhew! I learned them!" He looked at Victoria for help.

"He did, yes," Victoria agreed, her voice coming out much softer than she'd wanted it to. She stepped a trifle closer to Victor and dearly wished she could take his hand in front of everyone. "He said them beautifully. We practiced on our walk."

"Oh yes, your walk," Mother said. Her teacup rattled as she set it aside. "What were you thinking? You were alone together, after dark. Just asking for scandal."

There was a silence. Victoria felt her cheeks burning from both anger and embarrassment. Close beside her Victor shifted nervously. But she saw the Van Dorts exchange raised eyebrows. Even Father looked at Mother a trifle askance.

"They are to be married tomorrow, you know," he reminded her. Mother merely sniffed.

"Aw, and they were chaperoned, weren't they?" Mrs. Van Dort said in the same light, ingratiating tone she'd been using with Mother all afternoon. "Engaged and chaperoned on a walk, that's not scandalous, is it?"

"Perhaps not for some," Mother replied haughtily as she eyed Mrs. Van Dort up and down. Victoria cringed a little. Her mother's snobbery and obsession with propriety was practically a reflex. Even when it didn't make sense. All at once it hit Victoria that, come this time tomorrow, she would no longer be under her Mother's roof. Nor under her jurisdiction. The thought was enormously freeing.

"Now, now, it's a good they like each other, isn't it?" Mr. Van Dort said cheerfully. "And he's learned his vows, that's the main thing. We'll just forget that entire rehearsal ever happened!"

Now it was Mother and Father's turn to exchange raised eyebrows. But they said nothing. Disapproving or not, they absolutely needed this wedding to occur. Victoria took comfort in that. No matter what her parents thought or how they behaved, there was no way they were going to try to put a stop to her marriage to Victor. And Mr. Van Dort was right. It was good that they liked each other. Recalling their kiss in the woods, Victoria shivered a little. When she looked up at Victor she found that he was already gazing at her, fondness obvious in his eyes. She shivered again.

Mr. Van Dort had gotten to his feet and now stood on Victor's other side. Behind his hand and in an undertone that was not quite quiet enough, he added to Victor, "Forget reeling her in, she jumped right in the boat!"

Victoria entire face felt as though it was on fire, but she could not deny that her heart gave a fluttery little leap. Victor's gaze turned to one of apology and embarrassment. Then they both looked at their feet. Though Victor was smiling just the tiniest bit. The sight made Victoria smile, too.

"Well, we really should be going!" Mrs. Van Dort said as she rose from her chair. She straightened her fox fur and her hat, and fluttered her fan a bit. "Before anything else happens. Thank you so much for your hospitality. We'll see you tomorrow morning! And I'm so sorry for your gown, do try lemon on that stain."

"We'll see you out," Father said. Victoria was surprised. That was incredibly friendly and hospitable for Father. Emil went on ahead to open the front door, and Mayhew followed along behind him to ready the carriage.

No one let Victor and Victoria fall behind or get too far ahead on the walk to the entry, much to Victoria's disappointment. Still, they managed to stay close side by side. When they reached the front door, Victoria wondered if a brief touch of the hand would be appropriate, as they were parting. Her parents and Victor's were saying their farewells near the fireplace, so perhaps Mother wouldn't see.

Mayhew pulled the carriage up to the steps. It was time for Victor to leave. As she looked up into his face Victoria wondered how she would manage a night without him. Had they really only met a few hours ago? A lifetime seemed to have gone by since then. Silly, and sentimental, but it truly was as if she'd known Victor her entire life. Right now he was looking at her just the way he had in the woods, when they'd sat on that stump. And he'd told her he wanted to be with her always. Even recalling the words made her heart melt. Was it too silly to think that Victor's thoughts and feelings in this moment might mirror her own?

"Let's get going, Victor," Mr. Van Dort said cheerfully, breaking the moment. He was on his way out the door. He turned back to tip his hat to Victoria, then to her parents. "Miss Victoria. Lord and Lady Everglot. We'll see you bright and early!"

"Yes, indeed," Mother said, not matching his good humor. "Good evening."

"Come along then," Mrs. Van Dort said to Victor, tapping his elbow with her fan. "We've still got a lot to do. You need to get your suit in order and make sure there's a pocket for the wedding ring."

Time halted. Victoria's insides turned to ice. She and Victor's romantic gaze turned into a shared wide-eyed horror. For they'd last seen her wedding ring glinting on the bony finger of a walking dead woman.

"Your ring!" Victor gasped.

"My ring!" she echoed, pressing her fingers to her face.

"Oh what now?" Father asked, casting a dark and annoyed glance between the two of them. "Did you manage to set that on fire, as well?"

"No, no, I—uh-in the woods, it-" Victor fumbled, nervous hands leaping to his tie. He looked quickly back and forth between his mother and Victoria's father, who were staring at him stonily.

"Fell out of his pocket," Victoria finished. All eyes turned to her. Under the stares she felt her cheeks get warm. She spoke next to the floor, not liking to lie outright. "It dropped in the snow. We couldn't find it."

"Well, isn't that perfect," Mother said, deeply annoyed. "Not just dropping the ring, but losing it entirely! Tell me, Victoria, what precisely impresses you so about this boy?"

Victoria flushed more deeply, this time offense mixed with embarrassment. Mother needn't have said that in front of everyone. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Victor's shoulders slump.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Mrs. Van Dort hissed, mostly to the ceiling. She rubbed at her forehead before she turned to Mother and Father with a strained and slightly manic smile. "Not to worry, not to worry at all! I had a feeling something like this might happen. I have two back-up rings at home. Luck favors the prepared, doesn't it?"

Mrs. Van Dort had delivered all of this rapid-fire, as though worried Mother and Father call off the wedding right then. As she spoke she pulled Victor to the door and shoved him out onto the stoop. Victoria held out a hand to him, wanting to say goodbye, but he disappeared before he could give her more than a small wave.

"Good night, all!" Mrs. Van Dort finished hurriedly, following Victor out the door. With a bit of difficulty she managed to pull the door shut after her, saying, "I'll just get this myself, shall I, no bother!"

The silence in the entry was ringing. No one spoke for what felt like an eternity. The fire crackled and shadows danced in the gloom. Victoria looked at the floor.

"We cannot be this desperate," Mother said at last in despairing tones. "Those people!"

"Well, we are," Father told her shortly. Then he turned to Victoria. "Go on to bed, Victoria. It will be a very long day tomorrow, I'm sure."

Victoria nodded. She went up to her bedroom, where Hildegarde had lit the fire but was now nowhere to be seen. She warmed herself at the fire and thought of Victor, so pale and slender and handsome, so kind and gentle and boyishly endearing. He was nothing like she thought he would be. He was nothing like her fantasy husbands, borne mostly from books, had been. And he was just perfect. Perfect for her. Victoria knew it in her bones. She wished she'd been able to pass a few more words with Victor. To say good night.

You'll wish him good night every night for the rest of your life, beginning tomorrow, she thought, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her knees went a little weak.

Smiling to herself, Victoria undressed for the very last time in her childhood bedroom. She put on her nightdress and let down her hair. She turned down the covers and climbed into her bed. All for the very last time. All she felt was quivering excitement. She'd expected a little melancholy, perhaps fear. But no. After meeting Victor, after their walk, their time in the clearing, Victoria was nothing but purely happy. For perhaps the first time in her life.

However, when she closed her eyes and tried to conjure Victor, his face didn't fill her mind. Instead a pale blue corpse looked at her. Oddly alive eyes glinting in the moonlight. Her gown tattered and rotted, ribs visible through her bodice. Dead flowers crowning long, loose hair. The ring on the skeletal finger.

I do, she'd whispered. Those eyes fixed on Victor.

Victoria's eyes flew open and she sat up in bed. Perspiration crept under her arms and along her hairline. She took deep breaths, trying to quiet her heart. Everything was all right. They had not been followed. Victoria did not doubt what they had seen. She did not know why it had happened, nor precisely how, but Victor had accidentally woken a corpse from its eternal sleep. They had run, and it had not followed. Perhaps could not follow beyond the cemetery.

"And she'll go back to her sleep," Victoria whispered out loud, almost like a prayer, or a request. "It was a mistake, we did not mean to disturb her. She can go back to her rest."

Uneasily she lay back down, tucking the blankets around her. She listened for the crier's bell to break the night stillness, to raise the hew and cry that the dead were walking. Nothing came.

She's gone back to sleep, Victoria assured herself as she drifted off. Please, go back to sleep.