Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked over the roof of Daley Manor. The rain poured down relentlessly like the hooves of a thousand headless horsemen looking to invade and destroy, and Miss Cecilia Daley, a lonely, widowed, former hostess could not bear it. She collapsed delicately onto her floral patterned sofa.
"Oh, James, where are you!" she cried out. Miss Cecilia never wanted to let on to this, especially not in front of her house guests, but she was deeply terrified by thunder, rain, and lightning, especially since her husband James had died.
"Would you like me to put the kettle on?" Her sister, Felicity, called from the other end of the room. Felicity had since come to live with her sister ever since she had begun to go mad from the years spent alone in the manor following the death of James, and it was after all, her ancestral home.
"Yes, I'll ask James if he would like to have some as well." Her beloved James had now been buried in the cemetery behind the manor some seven years, yet Miss Cecilia still claimed that he was everywhere in the cobwebbed house.
Miss Cecilia searched a different wing of the old mansion every time it stormed, hoping James would be tucked inside one of the rooms, writing another poem with his quill. But unsurprisingly, he was never to be seen, in the bedrooms nor the study or the drawing room. He was always just out of reach, like a beautiful dream.
The few guests Miss Cecilia still would entertain were old friends of hers, understanding of her situation and supportive as one could be. They would never say it to her directly, but they knew that she would feel better if she moved out of the manor, even for a while.
But the idea of it was forbidden. Miss Cecilia was convinced one day she would find James again. She would spend stormy night after stormy night paralyzed by fear combing the house for his soft face, his eyes, his smile, his heart. Anything to convince her that he was still here and she didn't have to be afraid of anything, not even the truth.
This time, Miss Cecilia was searching the uppermost floors of the manor, the towers, turrets, and the observatory. The floors creaked from years of disuse and her lantern nearly went out from the overwhelming darkness of the unused rooms. No sign of James anywhere, not even the warm smell of the cologne he wore.
She crawled from the turret into the observatory, where she thought she saw a light. When she entered the room, it was lit for the first time in seven years, but empty. How could it be? Then the music started playing.
"May I have this dance, Miss Cecilia?" James stood at the other side of the room, holding out a hand. He looked rejuvenated and warm, the cold tone of death gone from his smiling face and large, glittering, masculine eyes.
"Why, of course!" Miss Cecilia ran to him and they waltzed around the dusty observatory. For a brief moment, she could forget her incredible guilt completely. Although she covered it up well, it was like a pit inside her at all times, rotting her from the inside out.
As the invisible orchestra struck up the écossaise, Miss Cecilia began to feel sick. She had to tell James now what she had done or she could never truly live, but she could not bear to confess to her sin, even though it was a mistake.
Before she knew it, the whole story came spilling out. The poison, the pastries, the plan so diabolical it was nearly impossible. How she had plotted to take the poison herself in order to free herself of the confines of a particular predicament, and had made a mistake. She had meant to administer the antidote, she was sorry, but it was too late.
James' face grew wicked and terrible and the orchestra changed from a pleasant polonaise to a terrifying and sharp polka. Miss Cecilia found herself flung across the room, clinging to the arms of the beloved she had mistakenly killed. He made her dance and dance and dance until her feet could no longer take it and her arms were sore and everything was painful.
Then he stopped, and bent to kiss her hand. As he did, he revealed a row of teeth like the mountains, sharp and war-like. After he kissed her hand, he turned out the lights in the observatory and sang Miss Cecilia to sleep. She was finally at peace. She had found James and she had done all she could do to make everything right.
When she woke up, there was a small scar on her hand from where James had kissed her. She never searched for him again.
