The Secret

         The evening had been peaceful as I passed time awaiting my husbands return in a few days from business away in London. I stood at my bed chamber window staring out of the glass at the immaculate snow covered gardens that surrounded the house. The stars gleamed in the dark blue night sky as the luminous orb of the slightly waning moon illuminated the soft drifts of snow that lay freshly fallen on the ground.  Bathed in pale moonlight they had a magical and mysterious air as crystals glittered in them and from the branches of trees where the snowflakes had gathered having caught in the limbs during their descent from the sky.

         I stood deep in thought, all was still new to me, every tree, stone and bush. A month of living here and everything still seemed strange and different.  I turned to the armchair by the fire and sat taking the dainty cup of tea I had poured from the tea tray Audrey my maid had left me and took the book of poetry Graham had given me the day we had met from the table by the chair. I sipped my tea the mellow flavour soothed and the heat warmed me as I turned to the first page and looked at the recently written inscription Graham had written next to his original one dated and written on our wedding day. Smiling as the tea lulled my senses I turned to the centre of the book where a month ago I had placed a single red rose from my wedding day bouquet. The dried and crushed petals still clung to pale wisps of scent. I gently touched the fragile bloom and turned my head slowly to the door of my bed chamber as it opened and a dark figure entered. He moved into the light of the fire his face cast half in shadow and half in the flickering red flames.

         “Graham what is wrong?” I asked in shock.

         He was damp and dishevelled from the snow and his face was as white as chalk. He fell to his knees before me, his eyes brimming with tears and he took my hands that were as cold as the snow outside. I did not know what to say as my heart tightened in my chest, as my stomach twisted and my mouth went dry. I was still as fear crept in and I stood there awaiting a nightmare to fall from his lips. Wondering what had happened to disturb the once quiet peace of the night.

         The silence between us continued and tension hung in the air like a shroud. Against the sounds of the fire crackling in the hearth was the beat of my heart trying to thump its way out of my chest. I waited feeling the cold from his hands and could do nothing but stare into the dark eyes of my husband. His once ebony irises resembled amber discs as they were ignited by the light of the flames of the fire. His stare was fear filled like an animal’s caught in a trap and intermittently his lip moved as though he were about to speak but with the loss of his nerves his mouth would close.

         He was supposed to be in London and he could not have arrived back so soon seeing as London was a few days travel, slowly I considered when he had left.  I paused in my thoughts and grew cold as the temperature of his hands aided the icy chill of realisation sweep through my veins. He had never gone to London, so then where had he been? I looked at his clothes, seeing them more clearly then in the golden light. My eyes examined every thread and I could see that the coats hem was dirty looking as though he had tracked through woodland roads or the filthy puddles in the slums of town. It was worn and slightly torn in places from branches, brambles or hands. I considered woodland which seemed improbable, what purpose would a gentleman have to go to the countryside except to hunt and it was a family affair and such things could not be kept quiet being so important in society. But the slums frenzied images of jewel colours, of rose, teal, lavender and gold danced through my dazed thoughts lit by the hues of crimson lanterns swinging from the entrance ways of places of ill repute.

         These places their frontages scarred by peeling paint, diminished by broken window panes stuffed with dirty rags and warped shutters hiding the forbidden delights and forms within. These figures  frolicked adorned in glass pearls, petticoats and glossy lip paint gliding with fraudulent elegance amongst the backdrops of gaudy tattered silk paper, faded velvet, dusty chandeliers, dull gold picture frames and frayed French lace. A shake of my head and I returned from my thoughts and I looked at him the smells of the snowy wilds clung to him and the reality of my thoughts took hold.

         “Who is she?” I asked without tone as I drained the emotions from my face. My stone like outer reaction hid the dying of the liquid ice of my blood to roaring heat. “Who is she?” I asked to the shocked look on his face. “Who are you dallying with?”

         Graham’s face already pasty went whiter and stilled with a stone like expression. He seemed a statue the only warmth emanating from him and from his face were the colours of the fire light illuminating him. He turned his face to me and stared his eyes as wide as an animal’s caught in the lamplight of a carriage. His pupils were large and black sucking in the light seeming to be pools of endless depth. His bottom lip had dropped and was purplish a sign that his blood was still frozen having failed to be warmed by the fire. His breating was laboured as he struggled to breath and think through my words.

         “No one.” He said, his mouth dry. “There is no one.”  I dropped his hands and crossed my arms as I tilted my head.

         “You come here when you are meant to be in London.” I paused to breathe. “You look like a Wildman, your hair is mussed, your clothes are dirty and you look like the men of the gentry that wander in and fall out of opium dens and brothels. You have lied to me, you were never in London so what else could you have possibly be doing so close to town, so close that to visit me is so quickly?”

         Slowly he rubbed his face before pushing his hands through his dark hair. Then leaning back his face downcast his pose became not quite reminiscent of a repentant man. Thoughts travelled through my mind who is this woman he is hiding? What has he been doing? He coughed and stood and walked to the crystal glass bottle containing brandy and took a glass from its tray.

         “I do not go to such places.” He said his face looking tired as he poured some of the amber liquor  into the cut crystal glass swirling it before taking a sip. “I look as I do because I go to the woods.”

         I turned to him in confused thought and realisation hit me. “Gypsies.”I said. “ You dally not with painted woman of pearls and cheap rose perfume but brightly coloured temptresses of bells and cards of fortune.” I stepped back my breathing quickening.

         “Evelyn.” He said tiredly but with an edge of understanding. “It is winter, the gypsies have moved on. “ He paused and shook his head. “What I do, when it happens... I must stay away from the roads and footpaths, I can never see a soul.” He took a thoughtful breath. “I never see a soul.” He replies strongly.

         “Never see a soul.” I repeated quietly. “So you must never be observed?”

         “Never.” He whispered. “It would be dangerous for all...” I cut him off.

         “Never observed, dangerous for all, never observed, dangerous for ...for your reputation?” I asked and he half nods. “If you are seen you would dishonour us...me.” I said.

         “Yes.” He said brightly.

         I frowned. “She is a farmer’s daughter or one of us then.” I replied turning pale. “If not a commoner who can be dismissed by coin or land or society then who? A lady? One of our own? Someone’s wife? Is that why you must not be seen and hide in the woods?” I say my voice rising. “Your lust has tarnished not only us but someone else. What has happened for you to tell me?” I paused trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Has it ended badly? Does she want payment to keep silent? Is she with child? Are you divorcing me?” I shouted tears rolling down my face.

         He moved then kneeling before me and took my hands. I try to pull away but he held firm and I kneeled before him as he softly cupped my hands.

         “Darling please do not.” He said wiping a tear from my face. “There is no one else and there never will be.” He inhaled and was silent for a moment deep in thought. “I am a werewolf.” He whispered and holding my hands again he bowed his head and kissed my fingers.

         I did not know what to think. It could not be true. He smelt like snow and trees, and as I thought about it there was no hint of perfume or the tell tale remnants of face paint the hall marks of a female presence. His breath was only of brandy and when he looked up from the worship of my hands his eyes had the look of a creature about them. I looked into his face and stroked his chin.

         “You are serious.” I swallowed. “But such things are of tales and nightmares.”

         “My nightmare.” He nodded softly.

         “If this is true.” I said. “How?”

         “How did it happen?” He shakes his head and took a breath. “I was on a winter hunting trip in Scotland. We set off early but although I had tired by nightfall the others had not. My friends went off after a hare or some illusionary dark shadow they had seen. I stayed back watching them shoot in the distance at their imagination when my horse spooked at the sound of a howl. Nervously she moved and then she stumbled in the snow and I fell. She got back up and ran the last thing I saw was the bright beautiful moon and I laughed shouting to my friends and then a wolf was on top of me. I remember the sinking in, the pain of the teeth and then the gush of my blood. My vision faded and I awoke a number of hours later in the hunting lodge being tended to by a doctor and my worried friends telling me of scaring off the wolf before it could kill me.” Gently he pulled open his shirt and I saw the bite mark, a pale crescent on his shoulder. The mark I had studied and caressed many a time wondering as to the story that I was frustrated at not being told. I turned to him and he looked back at me forlorn.

         “I can prove it to you.” He said stroking my cheek. “You can watch if you would like. If you feel you could. I have a cage in the cellars of this house.  While you have lived here I have refrained from using it in case you heard me.” He said. “The next full moon you can watch if you wish.” He said and I nod my head.

         “I will.” I reply. “Till then.” I say kissing his lips.