Posted on Monday, 31 October 2005
It was a bright and shining day, quite contrary to the thoughts in the Marianne Brandon's mind. She was a bride of one month, and her night had been restless in her sleeping hours and terrifying during her waking moments.
Thus far Colonel Brandon and his wife had marginally shared chambers, visiting but not imposing each other's company overly much. They were still gaining comfort and Marianne had yet to fully give her heart to the Colonel. Married life was still quite new to Marianne, who felt that her relationship with her husband should perhaps be rather different. From what she knew of her sister's marriage, things ought to be quite different, indeed. Elinor and Edward were rarely apart.
Marianne's evening, however, had been restless because in the hour before dawn, as the morning star appeared in the sky, a ghost had awakened her.
Marianne tossed and turned the night through, and eventually, in her semi-conscious state, she heard a thin voice calling, "Robert! Robert, I can't find you! Find me, Robert. Help me! Help me..." The wailing feminine voice trailed away and Marianne's eyes flew open. Upon investigation, she found no one in the hallway, and returned to her cold bed.
The identity of Robert consumed Marianne's waking thoughts and on a hunch, she peeked into the family Bible. The Brandon genealogy was outlined through Brandon's elder brother: his birth date, the mother's year of death, and nothing following this, not even the birth of the Colonel. His brother's name was Charles. There were no Roberts in the family at all.
The next night, the voice returned in Marianne's sleep, louder and growing in panic. "Robert, why aren't you here? You said you would always wait for me! Robert, Robert how could you? The child-the child is left alone and helpless. Have you no heart? Robert, please, by our love, help me!" Her distress was heart-rending and Marianne sprang from her bed and bracingly wrapped her dressing gown about her before flinging open her chamber door.
The sight that met her evoked a long, silent scream. Marianne's mouth stretched wide, but she could not seem to emit any air from her lungs, unable to conjure a loud sigh, much less a shriek. She slammed the door closed, but these are no barriers for determined spirits, and this one now blocked Marianne from her only exit.
The figure stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment. "Robert. Where is Robert? He should be here; he said he'd always be here. Where is Robert?"
"Who is Robert?" Marianne croaked.
"Robert ... my own..." the ethereal being repeated. The sun peaked over the horizon, sending its first red rays into the bedroom. "Red sky at morning-take warning!" she chanted and broke into hysterical cries as she dissolved into the other world, rays of light piercing her shadowy form.
Marianne stared at the empty space in front of her door for several moments before numbly beginning her morning toilette.
In the afternoon as she sorted linens with the housekeeper, Marianne attempted to behave nonchalantly when she asked, "Has Delaford ever been known to house any ghosts?"
Mrs. Weatherby eyed her intently. "No'm," was her terse reply.
Marianne was unsettled a little by her fierce gaze. "Very well, then," she replied awkwardly. "It is nothing to me, but as mistress I am trying to learn the character of my new home."
"As you please, mum."
They continued in determined silence for the duration of their project.
Despite the housekeeper's assurances, Marianne instinctively awoke that morning a few moments before the ghost's arrival. She sat in an unobtrusive chaise in the hallway, snuggled in her wrapper. Waiting. A few minutes later, the ethereal woman arrived and immediately noticed Marianne.
"Please help me find Robert."
"I want to help you, but you must tell me who he is, first."
"I ... I ... he's important. I'll know when I see him-it's been so many years. But he'll help me. I know he will." She spoke more to herself as she became more hysterical, keening, "Robert! Robert!"
Marianne tried to interject, but how does one comfort a spirit? She watched the woman's writhing face. Her agony infected Marianne's heart, which twisted in pain for the wandering soul. When she felt two warm tears on her own cold cheeks, she could witness the woman's distress no longer and ran to her room. Marianne irrationally locked the door and dove through the curtains of her bed, burying herself under chilly blankets, hiding herself with all her might.
The spirit, however, followed Marianne, her only source of hope. She stood immediately outside the bed curtains, wailing.
Marianne's anguish was acute and her own sobs joined the hollow ones.
"Robert! Robert!"
Where is my husband? Why does she not wake him with her mourning? Where is he?! Marianne endured what seemed like an eternity of the spirit's distress before the run rose. The next few hours were spent shivering in her bed until Colonel Brandon entered to kiss her goodbye for the morning. As she turned her puffy face to him, her husband gently placed his hand on her cheek, looking into her red eyes. "My own, are you unwell?"
Marianne poured out to the Colonel the occurrences of the last three evenings. He looked at her gravely throughout the tale, and finally answered, "I'm sorry," to her conclusion. "I would like to be there tomorrow if this happens again. I must stay with you this evening. May I?"
Marianne nodded and tried to gauge her husband's face, but it was masked. Colonel Brandon left distractedly, but by tea time they were able to converse indifferently on the impending visit of Marianne's younger sister.
That evening, as Colonel Brandon joined Marianne in the bed, they looked at each other for a moment, each recognizing the fear and speculation in the other, and the Colonel tightly hugged his wife to him. They slumbered thus as the spirit approached the bed as the morning star rose a fourth time.
Marianne raised her head from Colonel Brandon's arm and looked the spirit in her grey face.
"Robert," she began. "Ro- "
Brandon sat up, as well.
"It is you."
"It is I." A silence ensued. "Oh, Eliza- "
"Robert, you promised- "
"Yes."
"You promised to help her."
"With all my power."
"Robert, she needs you now. She needs you. He- "
"Willoughby."
"Returned. Yes."
"I will go to her."
"Robert. Oh, Robert!"
"All will be well, now, Eliza. I promise."
"Thank you ... Thank you...." Her face relaxed and she faded away with a sigh.
Colonel Brandon lay back on his pillow, visibly shaken.
Marianne retreated back into his arms and placed a comforting kiss on his chin before nestling her head onto his shoulder, where it belonged. "Does that happen often?"
Her husband sighed.
Marianne began to drift off to sleep, when she realized, "But, Robert? I thought your name was Christopher."