Part 11

          There are a good dozen or so stalls, which at first seems like a lot for such a small household.  But it occurs to me that if they had visitors, their horses would need to be put somewhere, especially if the weather was bad.  I hadn't even thought about that side-effect of pre-car travel, but you'd have to feed your guests and their horses if you invited someone to dinner.  Gotta admit, it would be really convenient if there was a gas pump at each of your friends' houses.  ...clearly, I'm a little giddy at having a new place to explore, I'm getting silly.  My iPod is playing U2's "Zooropa" now, which always puts me into a surreal state of mind anyway.  "And I have no compass, and I have no map, and I have no reason, no reason to get back..."
          Standing on tip-toe to try and get a level shot of the trelliswork at the top of a stall wall, I notice something stuck to an inside wall of the stall.  Paper, it looks like.  Obviously, I am nosy, and step into the stall to investigate.  The scent of moldy hay is stronger here, but so is the heady scent of the old wood - the same smell of every attic I've been in, every historical house my grandparents dragged us through as kids.  While the smell always conjures up visions of a thousand fascinating things to be dug out of old trunks, I know that here, at least, that's a promise that actually stands a chance of being fulfilled.  When I reach the sheet of paper tacked to the wall, though, I'm disappointed to see it's been faded by the long years - yellow and fragile, I can see only the faint ghosts of letters and an image?  I lift my camera, on the off-chance there's enough ink visibile that I can bring it out digitally, but as I adjust to take the shot, it almost seems the image is darkening?  I lower the camera and squint a little, things are blurry for a moment---
          And then it's much brighter around me, the full light of a summer afternoon pouring in through the window at the back of the stall.  The paper is clear now - an engraving of a horse, a young man in a riding outfit beside it, holding the reins.  The caption beneath reads "WINNER - Annual Firemen's Derby - Joseph Standworth with Tennessee".  Someone mentioned a Joseph once in passing, he's one of the Mason servants, isn't he?
          Then I blink, realizing the paper has not only become clear, but also un-aged.  And that the light streaming in isn't blocked by rampant vines and brush.
          Also, a horse just let out a blustery exhale in the next stall over.
          Startled, I look quickly around me, but luckily the stall I'm in is an unoccupied one.  (I don't know exactly what a horse's reaction is to being surprised, but I suspect it would be unpleasant for me in such a small space.)  There are a few other clippings tacked to the walls around me, brushes and combs hanging from it, a barrel in one corner, a low stool, some other odds and ends.  The auburn wood walls around me absolutely gleam in the warm sunlight pouring through the window, which I now realize has a thin edge of shining brass along its wooden frame.  I start to take a photo--- but freeze as I hear approaching hooves.  I yank out my earbuds, turning off my iPod, as I duck into a front corner of the stall behind the half-open door, where I listen intently.  If it's Evelyn or Avery, obviously I'll go see them.  But if it's Azal... or it could be Meres, Joseph looks awfully young in that photo, he could easily have worked here through both families if he started at that age.
          A woman's laugh - light and happy and full of life.  And then a man's voice in cheerful conversation, I can't make it out clearly enough to identify yet.  The hooves approach, then stop at the edge of the barn.  I can see a little through the crack where the hinge of the door is, enough to see that the large doors at the end of the building are open, but I can't see the figures yet, only the nose of one of the horses.
          "My dear, let me help you down.  Are you certain you're all right?"  I listen intently, knowing now that it's Azal or Meres, but not quite sure which yet.
          Another laugh, and I can't help but smile at the sound, it's such a pretty and unaffected one.  "Quite... oh I'll be quite all right, once you let me catch my breath."
          "Well," he says, and I hear a rustling sound, presumably as he helps her to dismount. "...I'm afraid I can't quite promise you'll be able to."  My heart tumbles over in my chest, his voice has dropped low, and even without seeing his face, the seduction in its tone is clear.
          There's a silence, and a soft gasp of shock from her.  A low chuckle from him, and more rustling sounds.  Footsteps on the stone floor, coming closer.  Oh God oh God don't let them enter this stall!
          "Azal... Azal, you mustn't.  Please don't."
          "Oh, but my darling, you have tempted me so all this time with your beauty... and I am unaccustomed to being refused the things that I want."  His voice is absolute velvet, so smooth and rich and irresistable.  I realize my hands are trembling, and not just from the fear of being found here.  I remember the assurance and magnetism of his gaze, and can't even imagine having that paired with such a voice.  Captivating as ever, but made inviting now, dripping with enticement.  The strange accent is silken now, the cadences adding to its allure.
          There is a soft thud as two bodies fall against the outer wall of my stall, and I can clearly hear her muffled sounds of protest.  I hardly dare, but keep peering out the tiny crack, and can see white lace and ruffles, the tendril of an auburn curl against an ivory neck.  His body is pressed into hers as he kisses her, his strong hands at her slim wrists.
          "Azal, no, please."  Her voice is more panicked now, desperation tinging the growing fear.  "Think of your Cora.  And your brother, he will be so---"
          He laughs, and the sound has a cruel edge.  "They will not know.  And what should I care?  Celestine, bella donna, you have no idea what secrets my 'family' holds."  His voice drops again, becoming almost a growl, and if my heart wasn't pounding and body trembling before, it is now: "I shall take what I desire.  I always do.  Meres knows this."
          I'm frozen in place, terrified of being found, terrified of what I'm witnessing.  Sweet kind Celestine... and Azal, there's no way she can overpower him.
          There's no way I could, either.
          I want to do something - anything - to disrupt, to interrupt, to stop this, but I'm as terrified of him now as she is, and know I'd be just as helpless.  It would be nothing for him to overpower the both of us, and I... I'm as physical in this time as she is.
          More rustling, and she tries to pull away, and he growls and must have tightened his grip.  I hear them move into the other stall beside mine (which must be empty, I'd heard no sound from that side before).  Another thump against a wall, and a muted cry.
          "Quiet, now.  I have ordered the servants away, and we are far from the house, no-one will hear you."
          "Meres---" she cries out, but is quickly muffled.
          "Do not speak his name.  He has had the pleasure of hearing it from your lips often enough - may mine not have a turn?"
          "Azal, no, please---"
          I can hear the cruel smile in his voice.  "Not quite the tone I'd hoped for, but it will do for the moment."  More rustling, and I can hear her struggling, but to no avail.  "Now..." His voice drops so, so low, but the only other sounds are the occasional shuffle of a horse in its stall, I can hear Azal clearly from where I'm hiding.  "Now, ástin mín.  All of these years together, and still he has not given you a child?  You've just been telling me how you long for one.  What you would name him.  The color his dear little eyes would be.  I would give you a child with the same color eyes that my brother would - and he will not give you a child."
          "He will know what you have done.  And it will break his heart."
          "It has been broken before.  He will go on, as he always does."
          "Devil.  You are a---"  The sharp spitting words are cut off by a slap.  I clamp a hand over my mouth, nearly crying out, tears of rage and fear streaming down my face.
          "I will have silence from you.  Do not anger me, foolish woman, or I shall do something that will truly break your dear Meres' heart."
          She chokes back a sob, and---
          And silence.  Darkness.  They're gone.  I'm crouching in a molding pile of hay, alone in a building that's been empty a hundred years.  I collapse against the old wooden wall, sobbing, still shaking all over.  I knew his heart was cruel, but---  Clinging to the wall for support, I stagger to my feet, leaving my hiding place - there's no need for it now.  It's all so long over, and they're all long dead.
          But I still can't bring myself to look into that now-empty stall.  The stains of his deed will linger in that place forever, whether they're visible or not.