One so convincing and frightening, James rushed back inside and searched for her. But no one was within. His Lady Raven had fled or disappeared. Panicked, James hurriedly lit a candle and held it high, searching every corner of the chamber frantically to find her, any evidence that she had ever truly been there with him.
Then, unsure where else to search, he turned his ferocity on the bird known as the messenger of ill fate. “What have you done with her?” he screamed at the feathered demon.
The bird did nothing, only stared at him in silence.
“Damn you. Damn this life. Damn everything for every moment I have been forced to live without her.” He struck out at the beast with the candle, narrowly missing it as it flapped its wings and flew away—its haunting call piercing his soul.
A sharp pain in his chest overpowered James, and he collapsed halfway inside, dropping the candle, the flame extinguished. He tried to find the strength to crawl back inside, to summon a servant or his sister. But his body refused to move, and his voice had no power.
“Raven,” he managed to croak. “Raven.”
He closed his eyes, struggling to breathe. If he let the cold take him, to put him to sleep, there would be no more pain, no more loneliness. He had been so sure she was real. That they had found each other again—that fate had given him a second chance. But it had all been a demented fantasy of his making. The circumstances of his mental decline over the years connected to this night, to this date, had finally broken his spirit. And now, he was sure he would die.
His only regret, that his brother and sister would find him.
He held out his hand to a nonexistent being, willing her back. “Take my hand, dear Raven. Take me with you.”
Nothing stirred in the shadows. No one answered him. Nothing offered comfort.
There was James and the darkness. And then there was nothing as he succumbed to the cold.
Chapter Seven
“James, open thedoor!” Valerie pleaded. She hated to impose on his privacy, but one of the servants passing by outside had noticed the open doors to his study. She had urgent news to share with James, so vitally important, she would break the sacred rule and have the housekeeper use her key to unlock the door.
“Well my lady?” the servant asked, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Yes. Please open it for me.”
The woman nodded as Val stepped aside and gave her access to the lock. Val repeated her silent prayer inside her head, hoping with all her heart…
The housekeeper opened the door, and Val peered inside. The chill reached her before she even entered the room, freezing cold, the kind that could kill someone. And the unforgiving darkness… The fire had gone out, and the windows were all covered by the thick drapes. Yet, sunshine spilled into the space from the open French doors, enough for her to find her brother seated in the most unnatural way on his favorite chair. She rushed to the doors and slammed them shut, shivering more out of fear than from the cold.
“Mary,” she said to the housekeeper, “light the fire and lamps. Open the drapes immediately. We need light and warmth. This chamber is as cold as a mausoleum.”
As the servant did as she was asked, and light flooded the study, Val understood that her fears were justified. For her brother’s form was pale and lifeless. She rushed to his side and knelt beside him, tears streaming down her face.
“It is my fault, dearest,” she cried. “I should never have left you alone last night.”
She placed her hand over his heart, hoping to find the faintest beat. Nothing. Life had fled his body; she knew it.
“Mary…” She looked up at the housekeeper. “I-I… Our master has gone, I fear.”
The housekeeper covered her mouth with her hand. “It cannot be.”
Valerie caressed her brother’s cheek, her fingers finding cool skin.Yes.He must be dead. Yet the truth had not truly sunk in, for her faith and hope would not be so easily crushed. Then she noticed the empty wine and whisky bottles at his feet and a piece of paper gripped in his hand. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the parchment and struggled to tear it away from him. Finally, she managed to take it. One word had been inelegantly scrawled upon it, and she did not want to say it aloud, but did.
“Nevermore.”
“What does it mean?” Mary asked, horrified.
“I know not.”
“James,” Valerie whispered. “If only you had waited for me to come to you. I bring joyous news.” She reached for his hair, smoothing his wild curls away from his face. “Lady Raven is waiting for you in the drawing room…” She could not contain her sorrow any longer. As tears blinded her and she sobbed at her beloved brother’s loss, he suddenly shot up from the chair, causing her to scream in fright and shrink away.
His eyes were shadowed and bloodshot, but he stared at her in disbelief. “What did you just say to me, Valerie?” He went to her, staring down at her, offering his hand to help her rise to her feet.
“James. I thought you were…”
