Section I, Next Section

Chapter 1--Belgium, June 1815

Only if King Louis XVIII was a man with more backbone than heart. Only if he ruled with some political cunning and managed not to lose his men to Napoleon Brandon would still be in Delaford with his wife. He was almost forty now and his days of adventures were past. And it was relinquished with great consent for now he was a married man and lord of Delaford. But this was not to be and the joke of a dissatisified French soldier scribbling on Place Vendome "From Napoleon to Louis XVIII; my dear brother it is not necessary to send me more troops, I have enough of them!" still reverberated through the English camp.

Once Napoleon landed on French soil in March his approach to Paris was enlarged with defecting troops including Marshal Ney and his 6000 men. The current French king watched all this with dismay while rest of Europe in fear. Of course by April Napoleon wanted to declare war and dropped all pretense of peace. Armies were mobilised and England once again had their feared enemy across the Channel. The dictator was seriously lacking in manpower but no one doubted his prowess in the art of war. Wellington led the British section of the Allies, a combined force of Britain, Austria, Prussia and Russia. This British general was fastidious to the point of mania but he was no fool. As soon as he saw Napoleon approach Paris his office immediately began their recruitment of soldiers and leaders. Brandon's name rose again and again but the gentleman managed to deflect every request for his presence in London until he received a letter from his old friend recently returned from the East Indies.

The letter sparked a fear in Brandon that in turn finally made him don his red coat once more. Napoleon had one great passion, and that was to rule an empire like Alexander and Caesar. His desire was not the glory of battle but the immortality of history. Should England shirk her duty of fighting him now it is definite that their children will hear the drums of war. Can Brandon in all good conscience avoid this battle and let his future heirs take their swords and ride against Napoleon? If he had a son can he watch the boy ride off to fight and kill, actions that the youth would never in his life performed? At least Brandon was a soldier and knew the art of war. He would have no qualms of surviving in the battlefield where a boy of eighteen would freeze in mortal fear. He had witnessed too many youths dies of their own follies rather than enemy's blows and he could not relegate his imaginary son to that fate.

Marianne in the beginning would not understand him nor accept his decisions and tried to persuade him from joining the war but Brandon finally prevailed with a promise that she would not be a widow. His calmness, his professionalism and his absolute trust in his own capabilities convinced her that indeed her husband was no fool. His trusty chestnut mare Pilgrim began her training in earnest and the horse soon became a full warhorse of the best caliber. Marianne also understood another thing regarding her beloved husband, that he was always unsure of his happiness. Many times she caught him staring at her and when asked why his gaze was so intense he would blush and respond that he did not know why he deserved such happiness. She knew that he looked forward to the day when he could hold his own child in his arms and anything that could threaten such a dream was a real danger to him. A danger that must be faced and vanquished.

Thus she watched him practice his sword and his shooting realizing his military skills returning and feeling more secure everyday. Her husband was no romantic youth of twenty but a seasoned man of almost forty and had everything to gain and lose with a foolhardy move. He would not risk his life for some stupid venture but practice with sang froid. She relegated herself to the position of a soldier's wife and helped him prepare his packings. Without his notice she wrote him letters that he could read every day for 47 days before rereading the collection. She did this in secret at her corner garden. When Brandon cleared a section of Delaford's grounds of its oak he created a shielded garden for his wife's enjoyment. It was a labour of love and she could not but appreciate the gesture and the man. They spent many hours there away from the curious gazes of servants and field help building their dreams and speaking to each other in their contentment. She would disappear for long durations behind the tall hedges writing furiously making sure every letter was a work of wit and love.

Finally the call for war drew many men from their homesoil and England saw an armada head for France not to be witnessed again until more than a century later. Wives and children wept then prayed and Marianne surrounded by her family was no exception. She lit a candle by her window day and night singalling to her husband who is now on foreign land that there was one great reason for his return. His men and servants started their workday with a somber prayer to heaven that their master return safely to them.

The English were known as the gentleman's gentleman. However if you push them into a corner they come out fighting like wildcats with absolutely no belief in decorum whatsoever. This duality of character confused many enemies and gave the English the critical time necessary to either regroup or keep pushing their enemies further inward. And Colonel Brandon (who refused a rise in rank) was no exception to this rule. As kind and gentle as he was in his homelife he was absolutely ruthless in war. Killing did not move him and he would not spare a thought of ending a life of a soldier twenty years younger than himself. His goal was to carry out his orders and bring back his soldiers and himself alive. The glory of war did not interest him nor did its rewards. His men, all seasoned soldiers appreciated this quiet fellow and followed his orders to the rule.

The evening of June 15th was a moment of tension and unrest even for Brandon. He opened his beloved letters again and read them one by one by the dim camplight. Even the swerve of her handwriting reminded him of her face and hands. Her words talked to him in her voice and he felt her presence near him in this miserable war camp. He smiled in private but his men noticed that look of happiness and could not but envy their colonel. They saw the likeness of his wife and thought her indeed very beautiful. They even made Brandon read one paragraph of her many letters and it moved them to near tears. They all left someone behind and Marianne's words indeed roused their haunting losses giving them some release in their hidden tears and unspoken wishes. Brandon finally doused his fire and sat against a tree to sleep; he knew better than to lie down and become an easier target for the enemy.

Colonel Brandon found himself assigned to follow a Dutch-Belgian infantry division led by Perponcher, a former commander under Napoleon. Even though Brandon's contingent was tiny it was a bonus to this hardened commander who knew very well what Napoleon was capable of. Instead of following Wellington's orders and marching to Nivelles this commander ordered his one division to a town called Quatre-Bras, a place literally consisting of only 4 houses. But Perponcher knew the value of the cross-road located in this town and immediately spread his small army throughout the place. Brandon was assigned to the fields of tall corn and was gratified. This was indeed a good cover to hide for the enemy could not recognize how weak they indeed were. Pilgrim was well hidden behind the haystacks and her senses were indeed heightened for she felt the tension in the air as the humans did. Her ears were pricked to catch the first call of distress from her now invisible master.

G-d was indeed on the side of the Allies for the French in truth outnumbered the Allies at Quatre-Bras by 6 to 1. However because of Ney's indecisive behavior this huge advantage was wasted and Ney did not move until late afternoon. Once the signal was given the French forces by sheer number began to push the Allies. But when it came to courage it was the few in number that had more. The Colonel indeed was frightening. Dodging in and out of the tall corn stalks his aim was deadly and his movement stealthy. His dozen soldiers inspired by his cunning and will followed suit and it took the French hours to drive the few oppositions out of the farm. However the French met them again in Bossu wood where Brandon with inhuman speed redeployed his men from the fields to join the Dutch-Belgian forces already entrenched there. In spite of the incredible odds against the Allies they held their ground in Bossu.

The French long realized how weak in number their opposition was tried to take woods but were again and again deflected. Then Wellington finally realizing the true value of Quatre-Bras began to arrive with the real troops in order to reinforce Perponcher and protect the commander's flanks(sides). Brandon was reassigned now to join the British Corp - 42nd and the battle was indeed a full scale bloodbath. He was exhausted and covered with bruises though no blood of his was shed. He knew that the Perponcher was right in holding the ground and his faith in Wellington was reconfirmed with the arrival of much-needed support. Too many times he witnessed his superior's cowardice and the heavy casualties that always resulted. And when he heard the familiar bagpipes and the march of drums his heart soared for he would not die in vain in these strange woods.

With the 42nd he planted his men with much ammunition and Pilgrim was underneath him as he marched behind the lines giving orders to fire and reload. Soon the air was filled with acrid smoke of gunpowder and screams of bleeding men. His mind was immune to all this chaos and his orders were always crisp and demanding. Picton saw this older gentlman's immaculate behavior and made a mental note to bestow a medal on the bruised and battered Brandon. Of course this honor depended on if either of them survived the day! Suddenly the French lancers led by Pire made a mad assault upon the 42nd's position. It was indeed a terrifying sight to see the calvary rush upon their horses and Brandon without spilling a drop of fear screamed for his men to rush forward and meet the charging calvary.

This move would have been madness but his men galvanized by the day's happenings fixed their bayonets and rose in hoarse yells and began to charge the riders on foot. The few were followed by many and the two sides collided in mid-field. The calvary though having the advantage of being on horses soon had to abandon their lances in order to fight more affectively in close quarters. Brandon, one of the few British on horseback did much damage with his sword as Pilgrim dodged swiftly through the mass of bodies and weapons. Her eyes wild and her coat gleaming she made other horses fear and shy away from her sharpened hooves. Finally the British had to withdraw and they did return with great damage to their numbers and the enemy's.

Brandon was riding back swiftly to the protection of the British line when a shot aimed at his scarlet back landed on his leg instead. The blow lifted him from his horse and he became unsaddled. His leg now badly mangled was trapped in the stirrup and Pilgrim lost without her rider madly dragged the unconscious man to the British line. Picton immediately called his doctor to help Brandon but it was too late. The damage from the gunshot wound was almost guaranteed to be fatal, the wounds he received from being dragged on the horse ended Colonel Brandon's life even before Pilgrim reached the 42nd. The blossoming of war widows began in England in earnest and unanswered prayers dropped from the heavens like tears that would be shed by many.

Chapter 2--Ophelia Fair

Author's Note: My apologies for killing the Colonel in the first chapter but I could not imagine a more desirable ghost than Brandon (IMHO). The time is current and the place Southern England.

"There is a willow grown aslant,a brook...
Her clothes spread wide, and mermaid-like
awhile they bore her up;
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay"

-Hamlet

Ophelia tackled the last of the roundabouts on her route. The Landrover again obeyed her directives with such ease that she felt no discomfort in spite of being an American driving in England and on the wrong side of the road. But the scene was gorgeous as she drove along the southern coast of England from London. Her route paralleled the grey and cold sea but the scent of the sea and brine invaded her senses and cleared the foggy mists of Chicago. This sensation was new for she never lived next to the ocean and she welcomed everything new right now. Anything to drive away the old ghosts inside her mind. She turned right on the marked road towards Exeter noting to herself that she must see its famed cathederal. Her livelihood and personality demanded that she visit any building worthy of note as long as she could drive to the site and back within a day. Jonathan use to laugh and comment that she single-handedly supported Texaco's stocks. Suddenly snapping at herself she forced to think of someone else rather than her late husband. But the damage was done and her eyes once again filled with unsanctioned tears. She buried him two years ago her will cried out, why can't I leave his grave alone? Because he was the one thing on this earth you could not do without, even more than your gift, more than your sight and more than your soul.

She saw the markers leading towards Exeter and saw the exit for Hillingham. She was alone on a deserted country road now and safe enough for her mind to torment her again. Ophelia Lambert was a single child of two professors of a private prep school in New Hampshire. Both taught English so when she was born they gave her the ridiculously romantic name of Ophelia. The little girl was pretty just like her mother, a dark Irish with hair darker than black velvet and the cold blue eyes. They thought she might have some learning disabilities at the age of 5 because she was so slow to respond. After nearly 3 months of testing they discovered she had ear infection on both her ears. Antibiotics were prescribed and the child became "normal" again but the damage was done. The girl became very withdrawn when she was ill because she thought whatever the problem was it was her who was at fault and who was at the heart of it stupid. After all some teachers thought her as such and her classmates teased her mercilessly regarding her behavior in class.

Even after her cure she remained silent and shy choosing to have no best buddies and always drawing alone. The teachers tried to draw her out but she would not and they soon gave up, after all there were other children in the class. Ophelia prayed everyday that her mom would have another baby so that she didn't have to be alone. A brother or a sister, that's what she wanted! A younger sibling that she could coo and love. And as if G-d answered her prayers her mother became pregnant and Ophelia to her parent's delight and relief was more than happy to have a younger sibling. There would be no rivalry, no jealousy with her. No, in fact she spent her allowance money buying a baby rattle, a pretty windchime and even a small Paddington Bear for her future sibling. The day drew closer and a baby room was officially made with ophelia helping with the colors. The parents were constantly amazed at their daughter's ability to see the colors and mixes of them that they themselves would have never imagined. In the end the room was as much of their daughter's achievement as theirs and now all it needed was a baby.

Then one night the ambulance came and took her mother away. Ophelia wanted to go with her but the big people with red jackets wouldn't let her. She cried and fretted until her father came and picked her up. Her mother was in trouble, and the baby was gone. Ophelia sat there in the OB ward with her dad shocked. How could mom lose a baby? If the baby was lost couldn't the doctors find it again? They were suppose to be very smart weren't they? How could this happen and why was her mommy sick? It didn't make any sense to the little girl and when she looked at her father for answers she only saw a broken man in tears. Even as a child she knew that he had no answers and her heart began to close itself in fear. Her father had no answers! How was this possible? He was her daddy and he always knew, he always knew...

A nurse took her to the chapel and Ophelia began to pray like she did during Sunday and Easter and Christmas. Then an answer struck her and she began to cry. This happened because she was selfish. She wanted a sibling so bad that she must have angered G-d. Didn't the father once say selfishness was a sin not to be tolerated? And now her mommy was going to pay for her sins. She then and right there made a bargain with G-d or the devil, whomever answered first; spare my mother and I will pay you whatever you want. She was seven when she made that bargain, she was thirty-one before she realized that it was the devil who answered first.

Ophelia attended the prep school because it was prestigious but also because it was free. There when she was 14 she entered an art class that first began to shine light on this quiet girl's talents. The teacher asked them to construct a bridge made out of toothpicks and glue and make it sturdy for it must hold at least 100lbs. Hers held well over 600lbs, thirty percent more than the second best and it was quite beautiful with delicate arches that belied its strength. The teacher saw her gift and quietly whispered to her father that his daughter had a natural talent in the arts. The parents of course knew this because her room was littered with her drawings and sketches but they never took it seriously until now. From there her talents exploded and by the time she was a senior her works were already featured in Architectural Design and some other national magazines.

For her senior thesis in Devon she created a building made out of bedsheets. It was a laughable idea on paper and she was made a joke by many other art students but her hard work justified itself when it was finished. The sheets were flexible so they made corners and roofs that no other material could possibly manage. And they let in light as long as they were thin enough and they had large range of colors and designs. So the front lawn of the school had this house of sheets and soon people from all over the United States came into her magical home to be awed and amazed. Her talent now gained national recognition and following. she entered RISD in the following fall with a national scholarship and a huge reputation. This created some animosity with her fellow classmates but she didn't care. One thing about her loneliness was that it shielded her from other people's gossip and back talk. As long as she had her sight and her hands she could drown out all the petty talk and the backstabbing that went on in her classes.

And her talent exceeded that of her classmates by immeasurable distance. Even her professors gave up any claim of "teaching" her and just let her be while at times giving her some general pointers. When she graduated she had a 4.0 GPA and 27 job offers from architectural firms around the world. Her portfolio was already on the web and it had more than 6000 hits a day from interested people who loved her work and her inability to see what was not possible. She made a decision then to go independent instead of aligning herself with a firm and this should have doomed her as a failure. But instead her reputation grew astronomically year after year. When she was 23 she was commissioned to design a building in Seattle. Inspired by "La Belle et Le Bete" by Cocteau the building took a fairy-tale like quality of hall lamps held by carved hands and gargoyles perching on the most unusual places. The client loved it, the people who were going to work there felt flattered that the building was so gorgeous and the romantics came from all over to take pictures of this castle. Her reputation was sealed even as an independent.

I.M. Pei often asked for her opinions and she was more than happy to give it while working on her own projects. Soon she designed a modern library in Hamburg that pleased its diverse citizens to no end. Another public building went up in Berlin after the Fall of the Wall and it was a magnificent work of arches and columns. Germany gave her an honorary citizenship and the picture of this shy architect was plastered on every German magazine. Soon offers landed her in London, Tokyo, Seoul and Chicago and her work never failed to amaze and delight the clients. When she was only 26 there was a retro done on her works though she was so young and it gained the notice of a reclusive billionaire who wanted to open a building in Chicago.

He hired her and she borrowed from his private art collection of Art Deco and the decadent scenes of the late 19th century Paris.

The building was called Desdemona and it was a work of light. She always used light as a medium solid as the materials for which the building was made of. And it flooded the building no matter how ugly and grey outside Chicago was. Its inhabitants always felt grateful for the brightness and among them was a young attorney named Jonathan Foust. He was curious to see who this Ophelia was and attended the party that celebrated the one year birthday of Desdemona. He was indeed a very handsome man, possessing rich golden hair and an unfailingly beautiful smile he could charm his way into a first date with any woman until he bumped into the architect. He realized that she was painfully shy and unsure of herself in public places. Quickly retreating his gregarious manner he struck another conversation with a common theme, the building where he worked and which she designed. She became animated then and he was fascinated with the diverse inspiration that drove her to create this Chicago haven. He finally wrangled a date from her and that was final for both.

They were madly in love by the end of the year and the next year saw their marriage. She relocated to Chicago and bought a small warehouse in the city. Totally gutting the place she redesigned it to their needs and taste. Their new home was gorgeous and Jonathan was like a little boy admiring the lead-windows, the small corner closets, even a surprise carving in the bathroom ceiling that you could not notice unless lying in the tub. She in turn took enjoyment from his delights and her work attained even greater flights of fancy. This happiness ended three years later. One rainy afternoon she answered the door and found two police officers standing there. She knew then that Jonathan was gone and her life was empty again. Jonathan made her realize how lonely she was and he helped her shed her shyness. Now death took him because she had to keep her bargain. The funeral was a numb affair for her and her grieving period found her in solitude 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Her mother offered to spend time with her but Ophelia refused. She preferred to live alone and with Jonathan's ghost. That creative mind had no problems imagining him alive and sharing the tomb with her so she let it. Her works did not suffer and her designs were as gorgeous as ever. This was the first alarm that ran through her mother's head that something wasn't right with her daughter. There was no visible grieving period and her work of all things should reflect the grief.

Her husband died a while ago and one day she received a message that his estranged older brother passed away leaving his now deceased brother and any legimitate heir a vast and wealhy estate named Hillingham 20 miles west of Exeter. Anxious to see her daughter leave Chicago she translated the news to Ophelia. Her daughter immediately refused to leave but after many letters, e-mails and outright threats the girl left for England. Her mother watched her depart with a worried heart. This whole thing bothered her, she knew that her husband hated Hillingham calling it a place of tears and grief. He also hated his parents more because they were so proud and cold of everyone including their sons. Unfortunately the older brother took the same route while the younger one escaped the same fate by running away to America. His marriage to her ended his family ties but the man was glad. He never wanted to return there he whispered to his wife when they were first wed. It was not a place for young people and people who are in love. She thought he was being melodramatic but his opinion never waivered regarding his family or their wealthy estate.

Ophelia saw the long stone fence that the attorney mentioned and turned right at the first gravel entrance. Her breath was forgotten as she drove into what she belatedly realized as the driveway to Hillingham. Her mouth dropped open, the trees were thin but they were incredibly tall and curved inwards to meet each other forming a green arch from where sunlight dappled and danced on the ground. I own this she thought and became overwhelmed with the statement. Merchant-Ivory could not do better than this! She nearly cried out loud as the main house suddenly loomed in front of her. Her eyes widened as she realized how huge the place was and it took her a full minute to compose herself before leaving her car. Mr. Silus, the man responsible for the legal work in England waited for her in full regalia and a warm smile. Ophelia shook his hand and raised her face towards the house. It was lovely, and the air was silent but she could feel its breath on her face. Her soul for once forgot the last two years and she felt herself in full anticipation of what's to happen here. Her eyes glanced at the ancient windows and for a moment caught a surprise, now why would someone leave a lit candle by a window during daylight?

Chapter 3--Candle By The Window

Some places like people have history and life of their own. Once they are awakened...

Ophelia entered the grand hallway and immediatly gazed upwards to note the original molding work on the ceiling. Hillingham was indeed covered with such old treasures and Ophelia could not but admire the now-gone artistic traditions. Mr. Silus smiled at her obvious admiration of the estate and thought: she is not afraid. Indeed she seems happy here. Ophelia, the name is too much of a coincidence! Thank G-d she did not wish to sell the place.

He introduced her to the other stately rooms and Ophelia loved them all. The library consisted of two floors of books and a lovely spiral staircase that led to the upper level. The Grand Room still had its wooden floor which gleamed with a new shine. The fireplace was massive and all that was missing were the two portraits that obviously hung at each side of the fireplace. Their faded outline marked their long-held positions and she wondered where they were. Then the entertainment room which was about the same size as the library contained the latest in multimedia equipment and Ophelia was glad to see her computer set up at the corner facing a large window. She took a quick gaze out the window then repeated her movement. For a second she thought she saw a flash of blue by the hedges but the color was gone when she took a second look. Probably a gardener she thought but then smiled to herself. Gardeners, plural you ditz no one human being can take care of the whole estate!

He led her finally to the kitchen where her staff was waiting for her. There was a large island in the middle of the room and it was surrounded by her servants. She blinked twice and had to swallow hard for she always took care of herself. Now she had a staff of nine who by the looks of them knew what they were doing. The staff heard about her and thought they get some artistic girl with green hair and something pierced through her nose. Instead in front of them stood a very pretty lady who was obviously not used to her new situation. She smiled shyly and introduced herself. There were two maids, Mary and Jessica, the Cook's name was Tam and she was by far the oldest of the whole lot. Joseph was the handyman and was actually around 40 but he looked about 16. There were actually 3 gardeners who took care of the grounds but they lived in the village and commuted to Hillingham. The rest had odds and ends to do but judging from the size of this place it ought to keep them busy enough. She thanked them for their efforts and turned to leave the room with Mr. Silus.

Before she left she turned to one of the maids and said "I don't know if this matters or not but I saw a lit candle on the second floor, the west wing I guess you can call it. If one of you could take care of it, I don't think it's quite safe." The maids shared a look but Mary sweetly replied "A candle miss? On the second floor? I'll take care of it." Looks ripped through the staff but no one said anything and Ophelia left the room. When they knew she was out of earshot the conversation began in earnest. "I knew she had to be, with a name like that!" Exclaimed Jessica. "But she's American," countered Joseph, "We have to be sure! We need more time...""We don't have time you blimey idiot!" bit the cook harshly. Her face reddened in anger and frustration. "Poor thing, I feel sorry for her..." sighed Michael, one of the groundsmen and this silenced the room.

Mr. Silus invited Ophelia for a dinner at the local tavern and she gladly accepted. The village was quaint and she felt like she stepped back in time for at least a century. There was only one road and the tavern was conveniently situated right on it.

They entered the place and was swiftly led to a table. Ophelia became aware of the many glances she was receiving but did not think much of it. After all she was the new mistress of Hillingham and an American so the curiosity factor should be astronomical.

Gabriel entered the tavern and took his spot on the bar. He ordered his usual pint and took a look when he saw a stranger sitting by the window. She was indeed a lovely woman and Gabriel could not help but wonder why she was here. The gentleman she was sitting with looked vaguely familiar but he could not place the face. "Nice for the eyes eh Gabriel?" The bartender jostled him with an amused grin. "She came in twenty minutes ago and let me tell ya everyone's talking about her. She's Ophelia Lambert, the new owner of Hillingham." Gabriel whirled around to face Jim and said "She's a Lambert? Can't be! She don't look like one. And she's too young to be a widow."

"No, Mary phoned my Lisa minutes ago and told her the whole thing. That lady is the new mistress and from what I hear a nice one too. All shy and everythin'. But get this, Mary said that the new mistress likes the estate. In fact, loves the place! I don't know but I think we're gonna see somethin' pretty amazin'." Jim speculated like the rest of the village folk.

Gabriel once again stole a glance at the young woman. How damned is this world that it would make a widow of a woman that young? Whoever her husband was he must have been quite a catch himself to snare a woman like that! Her hair was midnight and her eyebrows were fine above those sky-blue eyes. Her face was delicate and held beauty that will outlast all those plastic silicon Frankensteins dancing across the glossy fashion magazines. Suddenly he realized that she was staring back at him and he had the grace to blush. He stood up and sauntered over to her table to apologize and felt the baleful glares of the rest of the people pierce his back.

"My apologies Miss Lambert. I'm Gabriel James and something of a neighbor. Someone just told me that you are the new owner of Hillingham and I was surprised you see. I was expecting someone a bit older and umm, well just older." That was the lamest apology Gabriel ever heard and his blush deepened and spread to the roots of his hair. Mr. Silus rescued the man from total disgrace and introduced him to Ophelia, "This man is something of a mystery in these parts. He raises sheep and race horses and his apples are considered the best from these parts. A gentleman farmer if there ever was one but if you ask him what he does he says he's just an idle beggar." She smiled at him and remarked "then I must indeed be a total waste for I make my living by drawing." Gabriel shook his head in disagreement. "No, not from what I hear about you. Anyway enjoy your visit to Hillingham." She frowned, "I am not here for the tourist season Mr. James. In fact I might stay here for a long while so it will be some time before you get rid of me." Gabriel only gave a smile and sat back on the bar.

Ophelia and her gracious host finished their meal and left the tavern after nine. As soon as the door closed behind her the volume in the room rose dramatically and Gabriel could no longer stand to hear the conversations. He left for his home but felt no comfort there. Her name was Ophelia! It was too much of coincidence but the stories...he closed his eyes and moaned quietly to himself. For the first time in a long time he took his solace in a good bottle of scotch and drank himself to a thin and miserable sleep.

The new lady of Hillingham slipped into the sheets comfortably aware of her new surroundings. Her exhaustion created from this hectic day bore her to sleep quickly but not before she realized something. Someone was playing a piano in the house though she could not remember seeing one. She thought the music lovely and sad, but very appropriate for this place. She reminded herself to find the music room and the pianist when she woke up.

As the new mistress began to fall asleep Delaford began to awaken from its damned slumber. One thought echoed through the rooms and the grounds reverberating in the mind of every villager including Gabriel - The lady is here and now the history must end.

Chapter 4--Behind The Hedges

Yes, Gabriel here was indeed inspired by Gabriel Oaks played by the ever charming Nathaniel Parker. The name Gabriel also is heavy with meaning for this story especially. The Archangel Gabriel is the Angel of Annunciation and Resurrection, but this angel is also considered one of G-d's oldest messangers.

Ophelia woke up the next day with more energy than she could remember since her husband's death. Getting dressed she came to the conclusion that anyone playing the piano late at night must want to do in secret and having the lady of the house hunt the poor musician down would be in very poor taste. She decided to let it slip; why would she want to ever disturb such lovely thing as the music she heard last night? Running downstairs she bumped into Jessica who already looked like she was up for hours. The girl greeted her cheerfully with a cup of strong tea and led her to the "breakfast room". Ophelia was amused to no end, seriously was there a room for every meal of the day? She was surprised that she was to eat alone but Jessica told her that everyone else had already eaten and was busy about the place. Feeling a little ashamed about her sleeping in she made a promise to herself that she would wake up at least an hour earlier.

The new mistress sauntered through the rooms and to the garden in the back of the house. She saw something that was a bit strange and walked towards the spot. What greeted her stopped her in her steps. This was an outrage! What the hell happened here? She whirled around and saw Joseph run towards her quickly. Before she could open her mouth he answered. "I am so sorry miss, we should have told you yesterday. There was a fire when Mr. Lambert passed away. And we couldn't control the blaze. This use to be an arboretum for the Hillingham estate." She immediately switched her emotional gear. "No, that's fine. Was anyone hurt? And was anything else destroyed?" He gave an appreciative grin for her obvious worry. "No miss no one else was around. It happened in the middle of the night. Unfortunately we think that Mr. Lambert saw the blaze and ran to put it out or do heaven knows what but his poor heart just gave out. He wasn't in the best of shape and his doctors gave him all sorts of medication. But the man would be stubborn and wouldn't change his ways. He didn't exactly take all his medicine either. Shouldn't have run like he did and alone too. But the blaze died out, it didn't have anything to feed on after the building was gone. It's a cryin' shame because the place definitely had some lovely flowers and all." She gave a nod and thanked the man for the explanation.

She then looked south and saw a wall of tall hedges. She frowned a little and asked, "what is that?""

"Oh, that's the corner garden Miss. It was built long time ago for a mistress of this place. It was like a sanctuary for the lady you know. Away from prying eyes and wagging tongues. They say that you could spend hours in there and not get bored and in fact get lost forever if you ain't careful."

She turned to him and saw him give a wink. "Of course, I see. Well if I don't return by dinner time send out the posse. I think I need to make my mark in the corner garden since I'm the new mistress."

He gave a nod and stared after her eagerly as she marched down the steps towards the hedges. His heart beat furiously, is she the new mistress or the old one?

Ophelia walked through the entrance and immediately realized that the hedges were shaped into a maze. How lovely and how useless. She was one of those people with built-in compass inside her head. She looked up at the sky and noted where the sun was. Without fail she made it to the heart and stood there fighting back mysterious tears. In the center was a stone trellis with vines wrapped around it. There was a small working fountain to the right and underneath the trellis was a wide bench made for two. It was indeed a hideaway where a lady and her lover could sit and talk in honesty. The gravel paths that led to the center would warn anyone of impending visitors and the preternatural silence that hung about the place would calm anyone into an agreeable slumber. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the air. It was heady with tangy scent of roses and the intoxicating air of wisteria. Without a thought she sat on the bench and began inside her head of drawing the arboretum. She was determined to replace the burnt and waste site with a new structure suited to her taste and needs. She's got the money and with her new inheritance where else should she spend it but here at her new home?

It was there that she decided to stay. Chicago would be nothing but a torment for her. Everything reminded her of Jonathan and that was too much for to fight alone. Here she had responsibilities besides being an architect, she had an estate to manage and keep and it was so lovely here. Here was the peace that she looked for and Ophelia for the first time in decades sent a thank you to heaven above. Suddenly a voice cried out her name and she answered back. "Miss, do you want to have lunch with us?" Her eyes widened in shock, lunch? She looked at her watch and realized that it was past noon. Jesus, where did the whole morning go? "Yes, please wait I'll be there in a minute." Dusting off her trousers she ran towards the entrance and followed the route to a dead end. The tall hedges came from nowhere and Ophelia nearly ran into them. She frowned. This is weird, I could have sworn…she turned around with the frown still in her face and tried to backtrack only to have her way blocked by another immovable green wall. She stood there feeling a little trickle of worry going down her back and into her stomach.

Bracing herself she looked at the sun then at her watch. Determined more than ever to find her way to the center she started to run a little but soon became more lost than ever.

"Miss, is anything wrong?"

She was shocked for the voice sounded further away then the last time. However she put the false bravado in her voice, "no, I'm fine, just a little lost here. Can you wait a minute?"

"Sure."

She was gratified for the answer and began to run in earnest. Suddenly she was outside the maze but somehow she threaded to the opposite end of the garden. Ophelia held her breath as she saw the magnificent panoramic view of the village and the fields below. She had no idea that Hillingham was located so high then kicked herself. Hill-ingham idiot, there was a reason why this place was given that name! She rounded the maze and noted a beaten path towards the woods. She would have to explore that later and perhaps bring a ball of yarn so she wouldn't get lost in there! She ran towards the front of the maze and saw Michael standing alone with his hat in his hands. His face looked anxious until he saw her. Then a smile rose through and he led her to the "lunch room". Ophelia had to laugh a little then; there is a room in this place for every meal! This amusing thought totally erased the unpleasant experience in the hedges.

Ophelia was still heady with the scent of flowers and blooms inside the maze but she should have realized one thing. That during her whole tour of the grounds in Hillingham she never saw one flower. Not one lived on the grounds or the maze.

Chapter 5--The Angel Spreads His Wings

The man nimbly climbed up the tree even at dead of night and with no source of light save the moon. However he was familiar with everything about these lands for he grew up in these parts and save for his one miserable year at Oxford he never left these parts for any length of duration. Settling his burly frame comfortably on a sturdy limb he loaded his rifle and waited. It was so silly, what he needed to destroy could not be killed yet he found himself taking the bullets with mercury tip and the best rifle in his hunting collection. Gabriel checked the pocket of his fawn hunting jacket and found the Bible. That was his best weapon he thought as he trained his gaze at Ophelia's window. His tree was so close that he saw her shadow flit pass the lighted frame many times. He has declared war he knew and made enemies of people and things that a good Christian soul would think twice before crossing but he couldn't help it. He buried his Eliza ten years ago and swore he never do it again. And Gabriel was a man who kept his word.

His mind drifted back to earlier that morning when he took Sabbath out for his daily stroll. Sabbath was a huge plodding farm horse that has seen his better days but Gabriel loved the big oaf and would ride him slowly through the long path in the woods. He just turned the corner and nearly bumped Ophelia into the winding river. The two gazed at each other in shock for neither thought they would be interrupted in their morning discovery. She broke the silence first and commented with huge amusement in her voice. "So, that's how the landed gentry visits the local folks. Have to remember that. And that is the biggest horse I have ever seen by the way." Gabriel broke into a real smile and thought himself lucky to have met her. This woman was lovely in daylight as in candlelight he thought. Suddenly he noticed the huge hiking bag she was dragging along and her outfit. She looked like she was fit to climb the Alps more than tackling a leisurely morning stroll.

"Running away I see. And from the looks of it you look like you took the house's silver with you!" She laughed outright then and shook her head. "No, I just told Mary that I was going exploring today and I swear the girl has packed enough rations in here for a whole platoon. Can I unload some on you so my back won't break later on?" If she asked him to eat hay with her he would have agreed for he was quite smittened with Ophelia by this moment. The two comfortably sat at the riverbank and she promptly shoveled out enormous amount of food on him. He was for once glad his stomach was empty and the two shared breads and cheese and cold cider in the lovely sunlight.

Silence was the only thing between them but they were comfortable with it, he because he was just happy to be next to her, she because it was the ordinary course of things in her life. After the late breakfast the two felt the laziness of a full stomach creep in. Gabriel saw her stare around the area and answered her unspoken question. "Yes, this still belongs to you though I can't see what use it could be."

She gave a thank-you nod back and asked the second question in her mind. "Where's the parsonage?"

Gabriel nearly heaved his breakfast at the question. "Who told you about that?" He asked cautiously.

"Jessica did. She said that the estate held an abandoned church and I wanted to see it. I knew that there are abandoned places on the estate and since I'm an architect I would like to see them. For inspiration you know and perhaps a history of Hillingham. The library is lacking any information about this place and the servants can't seem to find the answers I need."

He struggled with his mind. If he lied to her she will find out and hold him as a liar. If he told the truth she might not live long enough to think anything of him. He stood up and said, "Come, I'll show you, but no matter what happens don't leave my side. OK miss?"

She stared at his face and realized that his jovial manner was replaced with dead seriousness. She gave a nod and took his hand. He led her to the parsonage and she stood entranced at the sight. The building was emptied for it took an indirect hit of the famous Baedeker Blitz during WWII. But the outlying cemetery was still undisturbed and once again Ophelia felt the preternatural quiet of the Hedges. He stared at her face intensely and realized that indeed she felt no fear. In fact she looked like she was absolutely taken with what she saw.

He saw her enter the building and like some faithful dog he followed her heels. She made comments about the stonework, the etching still left on the decaying walls and the design of the arch. Soon he became engrossed upon her monologue and relaxed himself. Following her outside he did not realize that she turned behind the blasted building thus unable to stop her from proceeding any further. They faced a mausoleum carved into the steep hill behind the church. It was a broad work with red stone fading from age but the figures carved into the stones were lovely. Faces and wings of angels spread across the whole facade and the door was a small and intricate affair. There was no window and that was very strange for Ophelia because such structures usually contained one. She leaned and read the name carved over the door.

Marianne Brandon, Beloved Wife.

"Lovely" Ophelia murmered and Gabriel gave a grunt of agreement. He wanted the living away from here. Couldn't Ophelia see what was so obvious? That there was not a sound of birds nor beasts around here; that these wild creatures abandoned this place out of fear? But the lady knew nothing of that sort and continued to read the writing carved into the door itself.

GOD moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble-sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain:
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

Ophelia was puzzled for the inscription was not the romantic work she was expecting to be pressed upon the stone. "It's by Cowper," voluteered Gabriel, "the same fella that wrote Amazing Grace."

She turned to him and mouthed a silent 'oh'.

"Come, I think those green plants in front of the place is poison ivy." That did the trick and she left the place in a hurry with her lying guide gratefully leading her back to the open path. The two walked in amiable silence and finally after much coaxing she was bouncing happily on top of the ever-patient Sabbath. Gabriel couldn't help but smile at the clownish sight of Ophelia's riding. However it gave him a very nice view of her left leg straddling the horse so he said nothing. And his mind turned towards more private thoughts that took all his self-control to lock away. But he was too honest a man to not say that those thoughts were indeed very pleasant.

Morning led to noon and neither wanted to part such an agreeable company so they ended the day with a lunch by the river again and Jessica would later be stunned to unpack her bag later to find all the food gone. Gabriel escorted her to the front entrance of her estate and watched her figure until she disappeared into the building. Then making up his mind he rode his horse as quickly as Sabbath would allow back to his farm. His workers were wondering where the hell he disappeared to but the set look on the bearded chin prevented anyone from asking his morning getaway.

Gabriel sat down in front of his computer and turned it on. Mind you he had Billy, the local whiz kid do all the computer work necessary for Gabriel but this was private and he did not want anyone to know what he was upto. He gingerly guided the mouse towards the little icon that said "Net" and clicked on it. If he remembered what Billy said that ought to do everything and the screen flashed various "windows" and the computer began to dial the access number for the ISP. Suddenly the computer blasted a noise that sounded like thousands of mice being strangled to death and Gabriel immediately hit the power button. The screen went blank and reflected his shocked expression. What is Lord's earth was that? He hit the button again and the computer once again went through the same steps. However this time the owner of the damn machine sat through the bizarre noise and was rewarded with the entrance to the internet.

He found the search engine that Billy had bookmarked and typed in her name. He was rewarded with nearly 126 hits. Most were magazine articles and he read them all with a greedy mind. He knew that she was a famed architect but by the end of the last article he was totally awed. Then he hit a line and was introduced to information that he did not really want to know. A student in Parsons, NYC thought her a demi-goddess and dedicated his whole webpage to her works and history. It was intimate information and though Gabriel was blushing while he read he still read everything.

He hit a "video recording of Washington DC reception" and suddenly the screen went into a TV mode! He was stunned, well the two thousand pounds that went to purchase this machine was paying off. It even had sound and a good one too. The video recorder or whatever it was swung around and suddenly came face to face with a blond man. Gabriel immediately recognized her husband. The fella was indeed a handsome man, beautiful in fact if the word could be allowed to describe a man. A bright smile went through the guy's face and he began to introduce the sketches that was laid out in the pristine white room. Obviously they were all composed for the building that was just finished and this was some sort of a reception to toast the new architectural wonder. Then Ophelia came into view and Gabriel felt himself stir as she gave a friendly kiss on her husband's cheek. Then she just left the scene and Gabriel felt the injustice of such a teasing sight. Jonathan smiled and excused his shy wife, "Ophelia really, really doesn't like cameras though I can't imagine why. If I had looks like that I'd be in front of them all the time. But she says her buildings are in the constant limelight so there's no need for her. I don't know about you folks but a lovely woman is always a better sight than a nice-looking building." The video ended there and the viewer couldn't take anymore of this invasion to her privacy. He logged off the net and sat in his now darkening office.

The sun's dying he thought but I know that it will rise again tomorrow. But can I say the same for her? He closed his eyes and remembered the explosion of pictures on the computer screen. Her works were gorgeous and mind-boggling. Gabriel could not begin to fathom from where in the human mind could such ideas rise from. He was a simple man who was dedicated to certain things and those things that held his interest profited greatly from it. He made it to Oxford and spent a horrible year there suffering under obnoxious professors and even more Dickens-like roommate. So much that he called his father over the phone in March and the man promptly came to take his son back home. That was the end of his educational career and Gabriel didn't mind its demise one bit. In turn his Ferrars Farm grew and expanded under his directions and he was able to earn some financial security. This achievement was no small feat for a man whose chief livelihood was agricultural.

But he knew what he witnessed on the net was no less than a work of a master. Ophelia Lambert was the literal one in a million and it would be decades if not a full century before someone with her talents came into this world again. He loved her buildings not only because they were beautiful but they originated from her. From somewhere underneath that lovely grace was something even more blessed and beautiful. Her buildings announced this fact to the world though the world chose to ignore it. Gabriel couldn't, not really he never had any choice for his character, his heart and his fears all conspired against him. And now we find him perched on a tree with a rifle and a Bible determined to protect what could not be protected.

If Ophelia only knew that help was so close she might have indeed given a hearty scream for help. She was about to go to sleep and after taking a nice hot bath in the gloriously huge claw-foot tub he mind was a preferable mush. She sat in front of her dressing mirror and picked up her brush then she suddenly realized what she saw. If she wasn't so frightened she would have yelled loud enough to wake the whole mansion but her fear closed all branches of escape. Her brush had traveled with her from Chicago through Heathrow and finally to Hillingham. It was never in anyone else's care but hers. However the hair strands that were caught on the brush was the color of rich auburn and not Ophelia's midnight-black.

O.K. so I lied.

Chapter 6--Hillingham Is No More

Names are powerful things. If said correctly and the thing you called for is listening it will obey the summons...

Ophelia woke up in full battle mode. Whoever pulled that atrocious prank will not only be dismissed from her services but will get his or her back ripped open for it. She was still incredibly upset at the invasion of her privacy and her face was indeed very cloudy when she went downstairs. She curtly told Jessica that she wanted everyone in the kitchen in ten minutes and no excuses. Alarmed the maid gathered the staff and they all waited with worry. Ophelia did not waste her breath and began. Her voice, cold and calmly furious alerted everyone to her mood.

"Someone came into my room last night with the lone thought of making my life interesting. I have never seen such a malicious trick as this and I want to know right here, right now who is responsible for it. Trust me, I am very upset with whoever it was and will not rest until I find the culprit." She then threw her brush onto the island and everyone stared at it fearing for their jobs. It was Tam who noticed first and muttered "Jesus Christ!" Mary and Jessica followed and both paled at the sight of the auburn hair stuck on the bristles. The men were slower to catch but when they did they threw glances at each other then at her.

Ophelia began to realize that no one in this room was responsible for this and she mentally sighed in relief. At least she could keep her staff as they were and not fire any. She guessed (and correctly) that dismissing them would not endear her to the locals and she didn't want to alienate the village even further. Ophelia dragged a stool and sat with them making eye-contact with all. "Now will someone tell me what the hell happened here? The truth please?" It was Joseph who began the half-confession.

"Pardon us miss. Obviously someone did this to upset you. We will keep a better watch next time and try to catch the idiot that pulled this stunt. But you gotta understand your last name is Lambert and it ain't loved in these parts. Your daddy when he ran away to America we cheered for him you know. He was right sorta lad though proud as any Lambert but we hoped him the best. And when you came we thought we'd see the last of the tyranny around here and bless your soul you're nothin' like your family."

She held her silence and quietly asked "My uncle didn't die of a heart attack did he?"

"No, no he did miss, he did," whispered Tam, "but he was a mean drunk and use to scare the living daylights out of the villagers when he drove from London. He lived alone you know. Had some fancy woman but even she couldn't take the abuse and left. He did die of a heart attack but..." her voice faltered but with an encouraging look from Ophelia the cook continued. "Well he got mean drunk that night and we couldn't do anything about it. He was screamin' and goin' on how this place was a curse to him and held him down and other crazy things. He then brought stuff from the house and filled the arboretum with it...he set the fire miss. I'm sorry but it was your uncle who burned that building to the ground. And somewhere in the middle of all this his heart just gave out."

Ophelia sat there in shock, her uncle did this to Hillingham? She gazed at everyone and they all looked ashamed at the confession. She belatedly realized that they felt bad about not discharging their duties better and somehow protecting her uncle. But how could they? A drunk man in rage is someone to avoid and not tackle to the ground. And heaven knows how could they stop their master? As servants it was not in their nature to do so. She gave a tired nod and said "but this trick..."

"The Lamberts have not been good for this place miss," softly interrupted Mary. Ophelia groaned out loud and covered her eyes. But she gave a nod and the brave maid continued.

"Your family...though they are more by name than nature came here during the Blitz in 1940. The original Lambert, Phillip, he worked as a Boffin for the RAF stationed 12 miles from here. So he dragged his whole family and the London crowd down here. They were a bad lot miss with all those going on and parties while the whole town was suffering under rations and like. They were a mean bunch and wouldn't share a penny with the villagers no matter how troubled the farmers were. I mean they didn't have to go poor to help people but we got bombed here too you know. Those Germans weren't exactly precise with their bombings and lots of local families got hit. Their crops were burned or ruined...anyway it was a sorry sight. Even James' farm was doing badly then. They wouldn't even repair their own church after it was hit and that really made enemies of the locals. No real church existed around here that the old and the weak could go to save that one and to deprive people of their G-d during time of war..." Mary's voice could no longer continue and her head dropped a little.

It was Jason, one of the groundsmen who continued in equally subdued voice. "And the family got no better. In fact they got worse with time. By the time your dad was born nobody in the village gave a damn about the Lamberts and James, Gabriel's family took the reins for the village. That boy has a good head on his shoulders just like his old man. Anyway the village recovered in due time but your family didn't and their names just got blacker and blacker. When your dad ran away he saved himself a lot of grief. Trust me he did. But your uncle, he lived up to his family's reputation. Proud, cruel and mean he used to...never mind that. This place held him down and thank the good L-rd it did. We have to say we weren't sorry that he died and I hope you don't hold it against us. And then Silus came and said you'd be comin'. We were so worried that bad blood flowed even to America but your dad was a good sort and your mom must have been even better for you ain't nothing like your family. So please understand miss there be sore feelings against ya all around here but give it time. And let your good name flow. A pretty name like Ophelia will do this place well. And soon people will forget what wrongs were done and what good things can come from here."

She raised her blue eyes then and they were covered in unshed tears. "I would have never deprived anyone of their religion. You have to believe that. I would have never done that in all my anger...Christ, what am I going to do?" She moaned under the realization of the huge black cloud hanging over her name. She should have kept Jonathan's.

"Well miss you can start by giving this place its rightful title." Tam declared it quite boldly and all the servants snapped their eyes at her in shock. Wasn't it too soon?

Ophelia frowned, "The right title? A place can actually have a title?"

The cook smiled and answered, "No but this place was renamed Hillingham when the Lamberts came and lot of folks think that was a great sin. If you could give back its proper name legally and socially the locals might feel better...like having something long lost come back to them."

Ophelia couldn't believe her family's arrogance in doing such a deed. To get rid of a name just because it didn't suit one's taste? "What was this place called then?" she questioned with real curiosity.

"Delaford miss, it was named Delaford as long as it has been here." The silence after that sentence was palpable and Ophelia was keenly aware of every servant's anticipation of her response.

"Delaford." She let it roll on her tongue. Actually it was quite lovely, much better than Hillingham. "Delaford," she said with more enthusiasm. "Yes, give its name back. Delaford suits. Hillingham is boring compared to that. Why would anyone want to dump Delaford for Hillingham? My dad's folks must have been a group of incredibly silly and vicious people. How do I go about..."

"Print it in the local papers miss. If we hurry we could make it for tomorrow's deadline!" Crowed Joseph in delight.

Ophelia smiled then and said with great pompous voice. "Let it be known that the Lady of Hillingham has dropped kicked the name of Hillingham off the Cliffs of Dover and adopted Delaford as the new name for her estate. If anyone has a problem with this, they can sit on it and rotate."

The servants roared with laughter and she walked out in a great mood. Jason caught up with her and whispered, "We'll be on the lookout for the prankster miss and don't worry you ain't nothin' like your uncle and people will know soon enough. We may be stubborn but we ain't stupid." She gave a sweet smile and left the blushing man in the hallway. Joseph was on the phone and the conversation was very animated but he informed everyone that they did make the deadline. Tam smiled, this is indeed going fine. Very fine.

Gabriel was walking the next day to the local village store and nearly fell on his knees when he read the newspaper column announcing the change:

Hilligham is no more. Delaford is once again resuming its place.

Jesus, Jesus, when did this happen? why couldn't he catch it? He should've told her everything. He should have! He ran to the nearby phone and called the place. It was Jessica who picked up the phone so Gabriel immediately controlled his voice. "Jessica, can you tell Miss Lambert to call me? I think I know where she lost her scarf couple of mornings ago. I'd much appreciate it!"

"Of course Gabriel. I'll grab her when she comes back." He hung up and stood there praying that Jessica was fooled. No such luck.

Stupid man she thought as she finished dusting the figurines. Billy told her everything. Her brother was real smart with computers and was in the process of cleaning up the 'temp' and 'cache' folders in Gabriel's computer when he noticed the names of the files. He retraced them and found that every one of the sites were about Ophelia and Billy knew that it had to be Gabriel who looked her up. And Mrs. Junkans told Jim that she saw the two walking together by the river. It wasn't two hours after that Lisa told basically everyone and every servant in Delaford knew by the end of the day what happened that morning. It couldn't be borne but Jessica after much discussion with Mary decided to let their mistress know that at least Gabriel called. That would get Jessica off the hook and after all what can Gabriel do?

The pretty maid closed her eyes and whispered "Delaford" and felt its answer. But she knew it was not her summons that woke this place from its slumber. It was the lady's call; she said its names numerous times since yesterday morning and now it's in the papers by her orders. Hillingham no longer existed and Delaford now stood in its rightful seat again. Its master will now surely return.

Chapter 7--Fallen Angel

Gabriel was desperate. He tried the night before to take his assigned place but was thwarted. A ferocious guard dog whose presence was new to the estate now patrolled the grounds and Gabriel had to run for his life halfway to the abandoned church before the beast finally let go of the chase. Morning came and his cordless still did not deliver him from purgatory. She hasn't responded. Why not? He believed his message was never given to Ophelia and now she laid in danger. Gathering his courage he gave the work orders for the day and drove to Delaford.

Entering the estate he saw nothing amiss and was greeted cheerfully by Michael and Joseph. He gave a forced smile and asked for the lady of the place. Joseph nodded towards the back of the house and Gabriel swiftly walked there. His eyes scanned the vast place but no figure was seen. Perhaps she's sitting somewhere he thought and walked towards the center, still no figure of Ophelia. Suddenly a voice from the back startled him. It was Jessica. "What are you doing here Gabriel?" She asked innocently but he was in no mood to play games.

"You know damn well why I'm here. I want to speak to her and I won't leave until I see her. Do you understand me girl?"

She gave an amused smile and responded, "Follow me then." And led him straight to the entrance to the Hedges. "She's in there Gabriel. Miss, oh Miss. Do you want to have dinner made for you?"

"Please Jessica, nothing fancy, just something filling. Thank you!" Ophelia's voice was indeed cheerful and light. Gabriel sighed in great relief.

"So go in Gabriel. Find her." The girl's voice turned taunting and quite cold.

Gabriel stood there in the entrance, his legs frozen to the ground and his heart hammering loud enough for Jessica to hear.

"No, I didn't think so. What are we going to do with you Farmer James?" She gave a tossing laugh humiliating him further as she walked away.

Gabriel took a deep breath and willed himself one tiny step but his body refused to obey him. It remembered as his mind did that one terrifying day.

Gabriel was the only son and was doted much because of it. The boy pined for some company his own age but rarely had any. The other boys in the village considered him a sissy, a girl because his mother once told her friend (in public) that she thought he had the most beautiful eyes. This damnation jailed him in utter loneliness for no boys would ever play with another boy whose eyes are considered pretty.

The sad truth is that the lad indeed had beautiful eyes and still does, but now they were widened in his fear of remembering that one summer day when he was but eight. Driven out by others from playing football he ran in tears through the woods until he somehow reached Delaford's grounds. Tears streaming from his face and his heart wounded because he was once again rejected by his peers he entered the Hedges thinking nothing but fleeing from his loneliness and pain.

It was almost a minute before he reached the center and exhausted from running he sat on the bench. Miserable and lonely all he could do was rollover the ugly affair even further and cried more. After a while as all boys do he stopped his tears and vowed vengeance upon Tommy who was the gangleader. Some of the others wanted to let him play and even volunteered to take him but Tommy sneered and said, "I don't play with girls. They can't run and they can't kick. If you pick him we'll go and find another game." With such a threat the boys sacrificed Gabriel and began the game with the reject standing there alone in mortification. It hurt so much to be alone and lonely. Children's cruelty can succeed in levels of pain where adults cannot even begin to achieve.

He stared around the place and thought it lovely, and it smelled real nice. But his senses bred from the land and the country told him it was all wrong. He smelled flowers, all different kinds but there were none to be seen. Frowning he looked around, where is this smell coming from? Where are the blooms that should be here? He stared at the small fountain and saw the goldfish dart around, their reflective skin shimmering in the water. He sat on the edge and wet his hands trying to catch one. If felt funny but soft and nice and soon the boy was consumed in catching one. His shoes and socks came off and he was splashing around the watery playground now determined to catch at least one and see it up close. Suddenly something caught the corner of his right eye and he froze.

His heart stopped its work and his mind gave up all grasp of sanity. There was a face underneath the water, barely below the barrier of wetness. Her eyes were closed but her hair seemed to have a life of its own and was waving sweetly around the pale visage. He stared at the sight realizing it to be impossible but his legs slowly took him out of the fountain and onto the safety of dry ground. Scream he told himself and somebody will come to save you! But his vocal cords were frozen in fear as he was and he could not.

She drowned herself there. That's all. People do that sometimes when they're sad and lonely. That attempt at justification of what he saw miserably failed.

Oh yes Gabriel that's obvious but then we knew that didn't we? Everyone knows that story including one stupid 8-year-old boy who should have watched where he was going. You strayed off the path Gabriel and now the big bad wolf is here. That thought pushed him to action. Grabbing his shoes and not looking back he ran like an animal into the hedges.

Don't look back, don't look back. If you do she'll catch you and make you stay. Don't look back, don't look back. His terror made that an easy command to obey and suddenly he burst onto the panoramic scene that Ophelia loved so much. The boy never put on his shoes and didn't stop running until he reached home. His feet were covered with cuts and bruises but he didn't care and he never strayed off the path again. Until now. Gabriel the grown man was reduced to that boy as he stared into his memories and his will refused to meet his needs. He circled the Hedges and cried out her name.

She answered back untouched by whatever terrified him. "Gabriel, come in please! It's gorgeous in here!"

"No Miss, I rather not. People will be sayin' things about us then and might make some terrible gossip. Could you come out instead? I would dearly love to speak to you!" He heard her snort in disgust and after some rustling she popped out in the back.

He gazed at her and felt terrible shame at his cowardice. Seeing her in front of him he felt like he betrayed her when he couldn't force himself to enter the Hedges. "I called you yesterday." He stated with some force and was shocked to hear her response.

"I know, Jessica told me."

"What?" He yelled on top of his lungs. "You knew I called ya and you didn't even had the good grace to call back?!"

Ophelia was stunned at his behavior. "Why are you so upset? I'm sorry but I had no idea you wanted me to return your call. Calm down Gabriel, sorry. I really am..." Her voice reflected her confusion and he had to control his temper.

"Sorry Miss but I really need to talk to you and we can't do it here. Could I meet you somewhere? But it's got to be away from here. Please Miss I'm serious."

She stared at his dark eyes and realized that the man was terrified. What could shake this solid English farmer to such a state? Her stomach began to knot itself in fear and her memory of the brush incident came back in full force. She nodded and said, "I'll swing by your place tonight. How about that?"

He smiled and gave a quick nod, "thank you for humoring me. I know this looks crazy to you but I mean you no harm. You have to believe that."

"I don't think you're capable of any harm Mr. James. Come, I'll escort you to your car." The two walked in thoughtful silence and their farewells were quiet. As he left the estate his eyes were firmly on the rearview mirror and the disappearing figure of Ophelia. Tonight he'll tell all and let the dice fall where it may. She was smart and clever and armed with knowledge she could do something to protect herself.

Ophelia re-entered the Hedges and immediately found the center. She sat on the bench and looked at her drawings for the new arboretum but her desire to create died. She gave a sigh and wondered if Gabriel knew who the culprit was. Her head pounded slowly into a thudding headache and she lay down on the bench to take a catnap. Softly she fell into a lovely dream.

Suddenly Ophelia opened her eyes and found herself sitting behind the Hedges looking toward the village. What glorious view! Smiling she turned towards her right and saw a man sitting next to her. Who's he? She asked herself for she had never seen this figure before. He gazed back at her and asked "Anything wrong Miss Dashwood?" Of course she knew who he was. How could a woman forget her husband-to-be? Then she noticed something ridiculous and laughed out loud. He was sporting no less than two daisy chains around his throat.

With mock injury Colonel Brandon berated her. "Now that is indeed unforgivable. You gave me these gifts and now you mock them and myself for accepting it!"

"I'm sorry Brandon but they do look rather silly on such a somber and dignified head." Her attempt to respond was thwarted by more laughter and she couldn't stop herself. Soon her companion joined in on her fun and both were in a fine fit. His eyes suddenly landed on one very small right ankle and his laughter died slowly.

Marianne/Ophelia was determined to tease him further. How she loved his laugh! "Yes Colonel it's a lovely ankle is it not?" The man had the grace to blush and stammer an excuse. "And I can guarantee that it's attached to one good leg!" Brandon had to hold his tongue for the lovely girl had no idea what dangerous grounds she was resting in. She would run screaming from him if she knew where his thoughts were heading off to regarding that one small ankle and one good leg.

"Yes Marianne however they have led you to walk too many times in the rain so I must refrain from acknowledging their good common sense."

"Oh don't blame them for it is their mistress that lacks that enviable quality. Brandon what's wrong?" She was already noting his shift of moods and the Colonel groaned inside.

"Nothing Marianne. I was just wondering where I would be if you were not by my side."

She felt herself sadden a little at the thought. "Then Brandon I would imagine that you would be coming to be at my side. Don't think of such sad thoughts dear man. We shall be wed in less then a month and then we can walk in the rain together with my one good ankle!"

That thought produced another bout of laughter between the two and the fit ended with him resting his head on her lap. Brandon knew that this was totally inappropriate behavior but he didn't want to let this one lovely moment go. There will be many more of these moments thought the gentleman and it produced the sweetest smile on his face. Ophelia thinking the same thing gave a look of understanding.

"Of course you're right. If I am not at your side my dear lady then I can guarantee that I am coming to be near you, dearest, loveliest Ophelia."

Suddenly she startled herself awake and was in total shock. Shaking her head and standing up the lady of Delaford quickly made her way back to the house. Her face was inscrutable as she locked herself in the bedroom. Where did that dream come from? She could not remember ever seeing that handsome face before! And why did she associate the name of the dead woman with the man? She glanced at her watch and realized that it was approaching five in the evening. Putting on more decent clothes she drove out to Ferrars Farm and spend some time in Gabriel's warm company.

The city part of her told her that to spend time alone with a strange man that was as big and powerful as Gabriel was was not the work of good judgment. But she instinctively knew that he was not the kind to harm and his size belied his gentleness. And whether she wanted to admit it or not he had lovely eyes. Black within black; you could not discern the pupil from the iris and one could easily lose herself looking there. Those eyes hid nothing and today they spoke volumes of emotions that his tongue refused to tap into. So with curiosity, some fear and suspense Ophelia drove into the trap. A trap set by history and tragedy, unwittingly completed by her guardian angel.

Chapter 8--Ghost Stories

How much can one trust the messenger when the message is not the whole truth?

She was in love, and he she loved proved mad…
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it: that song to-night
Will not go from my mind…

Song:
The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow:
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
Lay by these:-- Sing willow, willow, willow;

- Othello

Gabriel was madly rushing to clean his office. He regretted not putting in the doors at the farmhouse and wondered with some shame about his bachelor living. The house was huge and the ground floor was easily a third of Delaford's. However the particular character of the Ferrars farm was that there were no doors between rooms on the first floor. They fell off or rusted into disuse and none of the previous owners or Gabriel felt the need to replace them. So the impact of the vast space was even greater to a stranger. The downside was that privacy could not be gotten anywhere on the first floor. However the second floor being of more intimate nature contained doors to the bedrooms. But Gabriel in his modesty didn't think they would ever proceed up there so the second floor remained a friendly mess until he realized that the toilets were located on the floor. In thirty minutes the piles were all dumped into one guest bedroom and Gabriel was not even properly dressed when he heard her car pull up.

Her presence was noted and whispered with some excitement by the workers but no one said anything out loud when she walked by to the farmhouse. Gabriel opened the door for her and was in great discomfort at her presence in his house. She was after all an architect and this place could hardly reach those lofty heights her works have marked.

"There are no doors here." She stated with some surprise, "but that leaves the space open. Clever but a bit strange. Do you find it comfortable?"

"I grew up here Miss so yes I am comfortable. But I'm sure people who are used to proper houses wouldn't be. Please, this way." He shooed her into the dining room. This one was kept in some proper decorum for the simple reason he rarely ever ate here. He always managed to have his meals in the kitchen table or just standing up if he was in a rush. But her presence changed all the calculations of his normal behavior into a frenzy and though he was trying to concentrate on the reason for her visit his heart couldn't be ignored.

"I really wish you would stop calling me Miss. My name is Ophelia and it was meant to be used Gabriel."

Please by the request he nodded and she sat down at the table. Belatedly he realized that he should have pulled out the chair but she didn't seem to notice this minor mistake so he sat across from her. In the contrary she was very aware of his awkwardness around her so she made herself even more relaxed hoping he'll follow suit.

"And who else is joining us for dinner?" she teased mercilessly.

His head snapped up, "Why would you say that?"

"All this food, you can't be serious. I thought at least the field workers would be here!" Noticing her smiling tone he smiled and shook his head. She was right though, he did cook too much but in a panic of realization that he had no idea what she ate he did a bit of everything. She was from America and a city to boot. They always liked weird things…

She took the salt shaker and liberally shook its contents on the cooked vegetables. So much that the host asked her, "Want some vegetables with your salt?"

"Your English food is bland for this person's taste. I'm sure the fault lies in my court but I just can't take it. I think we are seriously running out of salt in Delaford though Tam says that there is a ten pound bag somewhere."

Gabriel gave a small grunt of disapproval of her judgment and the two ate in friendly silence spotted with friendlier conversation. Gabriel could almost, almost forget the reason for her being in his house but his conscience wouldn't let him. This was no social visit and she was not on a date with him no matter how much he wished it to be. But while the sturdy meal lasted the two pretended that it was a social dinner and managed to fool each other for a while.

His coffee brewed bitter and strong woke Ophelia up immediately when it hit her palate. Trying not to make a face she lost the cup somewhere in the main room. He led her to his study and pulled out a small iron chest from underneath his "desk". He heard her laugh a little and turned around to face her. His desk was literally the only door on the first floor. It was made of solid mahogany and quite beautiful. Instead of buying a desk which Gabriel couldn't find any to his satisfaction he took this door and laid it on pile of concrete bricks. Thus he had a "desk" that was wide and long enough for his taste. He realized what she laughing at and gave a mock look of warning before diving underneath to pull out the strongbox.

The atmosphere in the room immediately changed as both realized that the friendly dinner was over and the ugly business that Gabriel wanted to talk about began. She pulled a chair next to him as he lifted it onto the desk. Using a key from a necklace he wore he opened the box. She saw old papers, real old for the spidery writings indicated its origin from an era long gone by. His hands nimbly took out the fragile history and sorted them into piles. He has done this before she thought.

After the piles were arranged to his needs he turned his dark eyes on her and began the story, a mistake that he would regret to his grave.

"This farm is called Ferrars Farm because the first owners were named that. The gentleman used to be a parson on your estate. The abandoned church? That was where he was from. His name was Edward Ferrars and his wife was named Elinor. She was born a Dashwood but I don't know where she came from. Anyway they were living in Delaford and with them was Elinor's younger sister, Marianne Dashwood."

Her eyes flew to his, "Marianne Brandon?"

He nodded and continued, "That particular lady ended up marrying the owner of Delaford. And from what I know the marriage was a happy one. It seemed that the owner was in love with the girl for a long time before the Ferrars even came to Delaford so they were all basically one big happy family."

She looked at him expectantly, "Then what happened?"

"A war, nothing spectacular, just a war against Napoleon, and Colonel Brandon, the owner, got drafted or something but ended up in one of the battles in Waterloo. He died there and Marianne became a widow at a very young age."

He opened up a delicate looking sketchbook and she saw the lovely handwork of the artist. Her eyes were mesmerized as she recognized the different landscapes that the artist had captured nearly two hundred years ago. How little has changed! He showed a sketch of a man sitting and reading and underneath it was the careless scribble "Edward". The next one was of a young woman who was so beautiful Ophelia thought her to be a fancy of the artist but underneath the picture and with the same careless imprint was the name "Marianne".

"She's lovely Gabriel. How could any man leave her behind?" Her voice was indeed questioning such a decision made by not only Brandon but many men.

"Don't ask me I think he was daft to go over there. The man was twice her age so he had to be at least 40 when he went to war. They don't let that happen nowadays so he must have been short of a bushel or desperate for a fight." He closed the sketch book and opened a letter. It was from someone named Sergeant Michaels who regretted to inform the family that Colonel Brandon was killed in Quatre-Bras. To mollify the family he had enclosed a locket of the Colonel's hair for the widow. The letter was in earnest and the writer was indeed sorry to be the informer of such ugly bit of news. Ophelia held the letter in her hands and felt something in her open itself up. She remembered the rookie cop who was at her front doorstep with the unacceptable news of Jonathan's death. Tears came but this time she was able to control it. She gave the letter back with calm hands but Gabriel saw the flash of tears and recognition. Both were widows and both loved their husbands. And Gabriel admitted to himself that he also knew that kind of loss. His Eliza's grave held a fresh bouquet of flowers from him and not a week went by where he didn't return with another bunch.

"Why are you telling me this Gabriel? I thank you for telling me the history of Delaford but why are you so frightened?" He sat there staring at her face for a long while. If he did this wrong he could lose her but for the life of him he could not see the right way to explain what he believed was happening to her and Delaford.

"After Brandon's death Marianne became sick. She nearly died of a fever before, so this one also took a vicious hold of her. But the lady refused to fight, Ophelia. She didn't want to live and would not try to get better no matter how much everyone begged her. The family gave up and basically went on a death watch. They didn't think she could move but somehow, somehow she managed to get outside in the pouring rain one morning, real early so nobody else was awake. They found her body in the river a bit later. A lot of people thought she drowned herself but her family wouldn't hear of it. Edward Ferrars even gave her a church burial though the word suicide was attached to her death. This got him in a whole heap of trouble but the guy refused to budge and the church kicked him out for it. Elinor inherited everything but considered it to be blood money and refused to live in Delaford. I can't blame her either. They moved out here and started this farm. Delaford was sold later by their grandchildren and the two family estates weren't connected anymore except in history."

Ophelia felt her headache return insidiously. "So where am I in all this? Am I suppose to now trounce off to the river and take a dive with rocks in my shoes? Are you people that nuts?" Her voice was sarcastic but there was a layer of fear there. She knew that villagers in remote places had certain superstitions but this…

"No Ophelia, please listen. The place is still holding itself. This scene isn't played out and a lot of folks think that Delaford will somehow, and I don't know how, do this all over again in order to end it." His voice was pleading but its entreaties were lost on the now-furious owner.

"And because my name is Ophelia right? How many of you people are suffering under this mass delusion? And is anyone out there who is willing to carry this out just in case Delaford falls asleep? Am I in some physical danger because the village believes in this crap?"

He lost the battle and he knew it. "No, everyone thinks that Delaford will do whatever it's suppose to do. No one needs to act because it will happen anyway."

She gazed at him with some disgust. "And where do you fit in Gabriel? I mean you must want to see this thing through since that seems…"

"No!" he cried out loud, "I don't have a clue as to what is happening here. People could carry on about their stupid ghost stories but I don't believe in them. I think whatever ideas are being bounced around they're not the whole story. I don't think anyone knows the whole story and that's what scares me." He grasped at her hands but she yanked them away. "I just want you to leave here for a while and go somewhere. Please."

She looked at the neat piles on his desk and without a word grabbed the sketchbook again. She flipped through them and saw a familiar face. She ought to be screaming right now, her mind stated. That face again, the handsome and sharp face she saw in her dream gazed back at her and she knew who it was then and who is was now, Colonel Brandon. Gabriel was watching her stare at the figure on the paper and felt a trickle of fear. An irrational thought sneaked in - that in the room he was the ghost, the unseen third party. She closed the sketchbook and knew that she had to go back to Delaford. She rationalized that she probably saw his face in one of the numerous portraits in the mansion and her artistic nature would connect such a pleasant figure into her dreams. But what she could not excuse was the anger she had against Gabriel for telling her all this. It was dark and forbidding feeling Ophelia held against him and she felt the need to run away before she said something cruel to this gentle farmer.

Ophelia stood up and marched into the hall to grab her jacket.

"Where are you going?" Gabriel asked in a worried tone.

"To drown myself Gabriel. Whatelse? It seems that you're expecting it sooner or later…" Ophelia stopped when she saw the hurt rush across his face and pressed her lips firmly to prevent other cruelties from escaping. She pulled out the car keys when the big man with surprising speed grabbed them from her hands.

"You're not going anywhere until you give me your word that you'll leave here."

"I am going nowhere Farmer James. I am the mistress of Delaford and I belong here."

"No you don't. The village doesn't need Delaford anymore. It had me and this farm so just go away." It hurt Gabriel a great deal to say those words. He didn't want her to leave from his side, not really and in the beginning he indulged in the thought that he could protect her. But his experience in the Hedges woke him up to the cruel reality. He was a coward and could not help nor protect her.

Ophelia stared at him with wounded pride not only because his statement was true but because he said it. She whirled out the door without her keys and ran into the darkness. Gabriel followed at her heels crying out for her to stop but she would not. And soon the distance between the two grew larger. The sky opened and both became soaked in the rain but neither stopped running. He lost her in the wooded paths and decided to return to the farm. He quickly started his jeep and drove towards Delaford. He parked in the lane hidden in the dark. Within minutes he spotted her figure breaking out from the wooded paths and enter the mansion. Without understanding why he began to cry harshly until his head was resting on the wheel. It was lost he thought, I did it all wrong and now she won't ever forgive me. What am I going to do now L-rd?

Chapter 9--Her Name Was Eliza

Ophelia stormed into her bedroom not caring whether she woke anybody else in Delaford. She finally gave up nursing her anger and released her tears. How could he begin to think that she would run away? Does he not realize that she had no other place to go? She was almost thirty-two with no friends and relations save her mother who can make any claims on her affection. Her husband was lying in a grave instead of her bed. Their home haunted by memories and experiences drove Ophelia to the brink of her sanity. Until she came to Delaford she was living on her imagination that recreated Jonathan's presence. Part of her person knew that this was madness but the rest demanded that she have something to comfort her. And inside that imaginative mind she created Jonathan all over again. A singular child, she was constantly creating imaginary friends and now a lonely widow she turned to that same talent for succor and found a poisonous drink instead. But here in Delaford she found herself not thinking about Jonathan for hours if not for a whole day. The design she was creating for the new arboretum would be one of her best and she actually woke up in the mornings with good expectations of the new day. But now all this gone because of a single sentence uttered by a farmer.

She wanted to mock him but his personality and good soul prevented her from doing so. He was speaking the truth she thought and she could not understand the pain that Gabriel inflicted upon her. Why do you want me to go Gabriel? Do you not want me to stay? She straightened her back and took a deep breath wiping the tears off her wet face. Suddenly her nose was assailed by a strong yet sweet scent. Her eyes flew open and she saw a large vase containing cut lilacs. And for a moment she forgot about the dinner with Farmer James. The colors of the lilacs were indeed unusual and their scent was intoxicating. She smiled a little; it had to be either Mary or Jessica. How sweet for them to give her some cut flowers from the garden! She leaned over and took a heady breath of their scent, reveling in the innocent pleasure of it. Her sadness tempered by this offering she slowly prepared herself for sleep. That night she dreamt of a wedding she never witnessed.

Ophelia woke the next day to find her car parked in the usual spot. Sometime during that stormy night Gabriel returned her car to Delaford and walked back to his farm. Confused about his behavior and hers she avoided going into the village for no less than a week. Meanwhile she developed a sneezing cold; the price of running in the thunderstorm.

One afternoon Ophelia sneaked into the kitchen to make herself some tea and found Tam furiously beating a batter into submission. The cook saw the red nose and teary eyes and immediately bossed the mistress into a chair while she made her 'special' tea just for colds. Ophelia knew that she would probably be the High Queen of Local Gossip and asked her about her neighbor, Gabriel. "Now there's a good man if there ever was one," she muttered, "but the poor lad has no luck with women whatsoever. Why, are you interested or somethin'?"

"No, Tam but I am curious about him. I had a dinner with him almost a week ago and it was strained." She cautiously lied. No need for the cook to know everything happening in her life.

"Well that's no real surprise. The boy grew up lonely if you know what I mean. Didn't have many friends and not much in the way of getting to know people. But a likable lad all the same. Then he met his first and last sweetheart. Her name was Eliza Williams. Real pretty but was she wild. She loved the big town you know. Was crazy about London and all the excitement it had. When Gabriel attended Oxford, yes he did for almost a year she was plannin' to live grand with him in London. But the boy suffered so in the university. His roommate… Jonathan Mirabel I think it was that boy was real baddy. Mean and cruel down to the bone and he would rip Gabriel apart for sport. His mother would complain about it all the time. He treated Gabriel so bad that the boy didn't even bother sleeping in his bed. Use to camp out in the library or crash on someone else's floor. After a while even Gabriel couldn't take it no more and called his dad. The old man went straight and got him. End of Gabriel's experience in the fine world of higher education." Ophelia was trying to imagine anyone bothering Gabriel, all 6'2" of him. It was very hard to do so.

"The two stuck together like glue but when he was about 23? Yes, it was 13 years ago Eliza just upped and disappeared. She went to visit London and met some slick city bloke that charmed her away from him. And all he got was a phone call from her sayin' that she was leavin' him for someone else. He went crazy, like some mad bull and went to London to bring her back. But he couldn't find her, and how could he if she didn't want to found? For a while he looked like he would be a tragedy himself but his folks passed away and the farm landed on his shoulders. Give a grieving man some honest work and they'll soon stop shedding tears I say. And it worked. The boy picked himself up and carried on. Did very well in fact. Anyway after two years he finally heard some news about Eliza and Miss it was nasty." The woman poured Ophelia her tea and made herself comfortable.

"The girl was dying of AIDS. Stuck in some hospital somewhere she was nothing but skin and bones. Her family refused to see her but Gabriel went to London and brought her back to his farm. He took her in and nursed her until she died 5 about months later. He paid for her headstone and the funeral though no one else attended it. The poor lad."

"He nursed an AIDS patient? How?" Ophelia questioned in a stunned voice.

"The boy don't have the book brights but he ain't no fool. And when he sets his mind to something I don't think anyone could stop him. He wanted Eliza to be comfortable and be with him. End of story for Gabriel. After that he would go on some dates but nothin' happening in that farm except work and more work. It's a cryin' shame for he's a fine man and a good man but his heart is buried along with Eliza and nobody got a shovel strong enough to dig it out." The cook ended with a loud sigh and Ophelia thanked her for the story.

Tam's tale occupied her mind as she drove into the village. She finally had to gave up her self-exile from society in order to buy some cold medicine. Love can make you crazy. Death can make you a little crazier. With the knowledge of his past Ophelia could certainly explain most of his behavior. He was terrified that she would be harmed in some manner though neither of them knew why or how. The store though small was bright and neat with that particular acrid smell one always associates with pharmacies. She was looking at the long choices regarding antihistamines when she heard Gabriel's voice greet the owner. She hunched a little lower so he could not see her behind her row. His heavy steps approached near her and she was in a panic wondering what to do.

Suddenly her nose tickled and she sneezed violently. "Bless you." Gabriel said automatically but there was silence at the other row. He thought it rude but wasn't going to comment on it when he saw a slow dawning of dark black hair. A particularly fine forehead followed it and he knew who it was. The forehead was matched with a lovely set of blue eyes that were watering with future sneezes. He couldn't help but smile at her. It was so good to see her! He doubled his trips to the village hoping to catch a glimpse of her or her car but she was nowhere to be found. Gabriel almost called her twice but hung up the phone at the last minute fearing her refusal to speak to him.

"I ought to make you buy this Gabriel. Because of you I'm miserable and sick." She stated with some truth but the farmer wasn't having any. "Excuse me but I didn't ask you to do a marathon in the rain. And I walked back from Delaford to Ferrars in the same miserable storm."

She gave another violent sneeze but managed to fight back valiantly, "yes, but you have the constitution of a Sherman tank. I'm just human." During this whole repartee he made his way to her row and she was indeed looking pretty miserable with her cold. He gave a sympathetic glance but it was foiled when she sneezed yet again and all over him.

"Good, I hope you get this." She muttered through her stuffed-up nose. "Serves you right if you do. And I'll send Tam over and order her to make you drink her special brew. That ought to cure any cold and even if it doesn't you'd lie to get out of drinking any more of that stuff."

He laughed, "I am quite well aware of her tea and I am NEVER having any more of it. It could be used to kill weeds!" She smiled back at him and her gaze never left his soft eyes.

"I don't walk by the river anymore Gabriel. And I promise I won't go swimming anytime soon. Nor will I hold seances in Delaford and open a gateway to the netherworld. But it's my home now. And I don't have anywhere else to go Gabriel. Please don't ask me to run away. It's not my nature to do so and I don't want to leave Delaford." Her voice was so soft in its pleas that Gabriel quite lost his will to it. He gave a nod of understanding and the two walked out of the store with their friendship in total recovery.

The cashier was in total awe of the famous architect. She was going to become one and to have someone like Ophelia Lambert living in the same area was like manna from heaven above. And the lady was quite beautiful and had a nice voice even though she was sneezing violently. The woman also had exquisite taste. Her clothes were cut first rate and that perfume she was wearing! It was intoxicating – a blend of roses and something else, perhaps lilacs? The cashier wondered to herself.

Continued In Next Section