Page 45 of Fragile Wicked Things

I wandered back through the forest, traveling west to an area unknown to me.

Exhaustion swept over me and I fell to the ground, wept over what I had done, over the loss of my humanity.

I was a poor wretch, lost in a lonely despair and I alone was accountable for giving birth to that monster again, for allowing it to rule my destiny.

By taking away the wench's last breath, all my hopes and joys were swept away.

It was true then—my Creator did indeed detest and spurn me. The reward of my newfound life did not come from Him but from some hellish place where my soul was trapped and tortured. Nothing good could come from the evil I had become.

A divine sound penetrated the forest. I stopped my sniveling and perked my ears, enchanted by the singing that released me from my darkness.

The song was so beautiful that it drew tears of sorrow and delight from my eyes.

The voice flowed in a rich cadence and I longed to see this nightingale of the woods.

My feet carried me to where the voice had come from, and I hid behind a tree, peering through the branches so as not to interfere with the melody.

The nightingale was no bird at all, but a beautiful angel resting by a pond, the moon so enthralled by her that it illuminated her.

She had red hair like that of fire and wore a white nightgown, but I could see no more as her back was to me.

I stepped out from my hiding place and edged closer to her until I stood behind her. It was not until she saw my reflection in the water next to hers that she turned around, startled. She was indeed the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

"I mean you no harm," I told her and, believing her to be a Lady, said, "I am Edward Rochester, Lord of the lands by the North Sea."

She gathered her feet, tucking them underneath her nightgown and shivered. My nightingale tilted her chin down, those large eyes stared at me and finally, her lips parted. "You have traveled quite far then, Lord Rochester."

"Have I? I had not noticed. May I sit near you?"

"The forest does not belong to me, my Lord." She glanced past me. "Where's your horse?"

"It ran off, stranding me here. Do you live nearby?"

She paused a moment before saying, "My family sent me to the nunnery over that hill. I escape most nights to be alone."

Her answer made me uncomfortable as I believed I disturbed her. "Apologies. I'll leave you be."

She laughed, throwing her head back and her ringlets cascaded down her back. "Don't be silly. You can stay. It's the Sisters and the life of the convent I need a reprieve from."

"I did not mean to interrupt you earlier. I had to see the face of the angel who belonged to that voice. What is your name?"

"Blanche. Blanche Ingram."

"A lovely name. You must be a Lady."

She giggled at my suggestion, but her mannerisms were those of what I imagined a Lady's to be.

Truly, I knew no better. I stared at her hands and wondered about their softness.

My thoughts consumed me and before I could comprehend what I was doing, I reached out and held her ivory hands in mine.

They were softer than Miriam's, whose hands were rough to the touch, scraped by scrubbing, and chapped by water.

A heaviness lifted from my heart and her smile filled that emptiness deep within me.

"You are strange, Lord Rochester. I like strange and have no use for anything ordinary and dull."

"I shall outlaw ordinary and dullness then," I said in a meek attempt to impress her.

"Do you have the power to do that?"

"My power has such strength that it can devour."

"Hush. Only monsters can devour, and you, my Lord, are no monster. You are a gentleman. A gentle man whose heart I wish to capture."

She pulled her hand away from mine and placed it on my heart, and I could swear I heard a beat. I pulled her hand away, caressed it in mine, and refused to let go. It was no coincidence that I had encountered this angel in the forest on a night when I had fallen into such despair.

A lighted torch traveled between the trees some distance away and caught her eye.

"I am found out and must go." She jumped up in a hurry.

"Return tomorrow night," I pleaded with her, holding onto her hand so that she could not escape.

"I mustn't."

"Please. Be with me."

"My Lord, I cannot be with you unless it is forever that you speak of." Blanche tried pulling away again.

"Be with me forever, then. Come tomorrow night and I will reward you with a better life. Say yes and you will save this wretched soul."

"Yes," she whispered before fleeing into the woods towards the lighted torch.

Oh, great happiness to have found this red-haired beauty! I felt a sense of renewal, a rebirth of the man I used to be—no, the great man I wished to be. Her touch brought me such joy that I knew she would be my light, and I would not stray again.

There was a lightness in my step as I traveled back to the castle, sure that there would be a change in my life for the good.

It did not matter to me where the blessing came from, as long as I was on the receiving end.

So smitten was I that not once did I give thought to the wench I had tossed into the North Sea.

How horrible! Even now as I tell you the story, I am disgusted with my actions, but as I said, I want you to know all of me and you must hear the horrid details of my past.

The next night, I traveled back to the spot where I had met my angel, but she was not there.

At first, I thought it was too early. Then, I worried she would not be able to escape the nuns.

Finally, I contemplated what I did not wish to—that the young woman had changed her mind and did not want to be with me.

The thought devastated me; that I should be alone was unbearable.

There was a reflection of myself in the pond and although I appeared as any other man, the truth was that I concealed a terrible secret.

Maybe she saw the monster inside of me. Maybe they all could.

But how could they? When they looked at me, did they not see dark hair like their own?

Black eyes the same deep black as their own?

Ah, but therein laid the evidence. My eyes were darker and deeper than most. My skin, paler and colder than most. No, I had decided, at last, she chose not to be with me. An angel can never wish for a devil.

Another creature of the night in my likeness would not deny herself to me.

This companion, this perfect companion, must be of the same species as myself, have the same defects, the same hunger and darkness.

Shall I do it? Shall I create another like myself, and what if her wickedness desolates the world? Who am I to bring more harm to Mankind?

Mankind—if they knew the truth of my existence, would they not tear me to pieces and triumph over my defeat?

Would they not shun and hate me and do the same to my Blanche, the poor Lady?

That would make me miserable and, thereby, make me malicious.

That they would harm my love, the thought of which was unbearable, consumed me.

Why then should I pity Man more than he pities me?

Another creature like myself I must create; it will gratify and content me. It is true that we will be monsters, cut off from all the world, but on that account, we will be more attached to one another. I must not be alone. The love of another will destroy the cause of my darkness.

So, I indulged in dreams of bliss with my Blanche. In her absence, I had decided her fate, yet she was not there to receive it. I buried my face in my hands and contemplated how I had traveled the same road to loneliness again when I was sure that things would be different this time.

"Are you crying, my Lord?"

I heard a voice but did not dare look up. "The angel speaks, but it cannot be."

"Why can it not be?"

"You could never choose to be with me," I said.

She sat down next to me. "Is the decision not mine to make, my Lord? For if it is, then I choose to be with you. Forever."

She touched my shoulder, and I lowered the hands from my face. "It is truly you," I said.

"Were you expecting another angel?"

"There could be no other as perfect as you.

I thought you should have time for your decision.

I promise you on the seventh night we will be together forever.

But if your decision is made, if the outcome is to be the same tonight as it would be on the seventh night, then we need not wait.

We can be tied together for an eternity now.

Let's waste no more time on the matter."

"First, I must know. Do you live in a castle?" said Blanche.

"Yes."

"With servants?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me, my Lord?" she said.

"I have witnessed no woman with a greater beauty. Your song enchanted me that first night and I have never needed anyone the way I need you now. Yes, my dear Blanche, I love you."

"You do promise to be kind to me forever? To never become angry like my father once had when I brought him a dead bird. It was small in my hand and I was afraid of it escaping, that I held on too tightly." She squeezed her hands together.

"An accident," I said.

"My father did not like it. Often, he is angry with me. Then he sent me here, away from his wrath."

"Surely, there is no wrath from the nuns."

"The nuns?" She turned to me as if she knew not what I was speaking of. "Oh yes, the nuns. They are not always kind. My answer is yes and I shall embrace any life you bring to me."

"Come here, then," I said, drawing her closer. She fit into the curve of my body, joining with me as if we were one. I kissed her on the cheek, nose, and lips, caressing her face the entire time.

"My love," I whispered into her ear.

I kissed her neck, followed by a nibble, and finally, I bit her, gentle at first, but then I went in deeper.

She let out a whimpering cry and fell into my arms, whispered for more, begged me not to stop and she writhed in ecstasy.

There was a sweetness to her, a delectable smell—but pure she was not, which surprised me.

Having sampled Miriam, I knew what purity tasted like.

I felt the life drain from her body and she went limp in my arms. For hours, I sat by the pond, cradling her and rocking her lifeless body back and forth.