The Last Bride of Gallowglass Hall

THE FIRST DAY

Catriona Carfax arrived at Gallowglass Hall, and her own undoing, one day in early Autumn. She was twenty-two years old, newly married and, it was thought by some, hopelessly out of her depth. Her husband, Lord Robert Gallowglass, was, everyone agreed, a man of outstanding quality and breeding. Very little was known about his new wife other than that she was fifteen years younger than her husband, had no family connections worth speaking of, and was very pretty. They had met in Rome, where Catriona had been employed as a paid companion for the elderly Duchess of Carnaby. Her role required her to be a quiet but attentive servant to the old matriarch, to say little, but always be on hand when needed. This, in the view of Gallowglass, made her if anything, overqualified for the position of Lady of Gallowglass Hall.

After making enquiries as to family connections -- or rather, in the case of this particular young woman, the absence of them, he proposed to her within a fortnight. The fact that she accepted did not surprise him in the least. Gallowglass's impression was that she had a quiet shy charm that he found appealing, despite her lack of social standing. He believed she was naïve and innocent.

By the time he discovered his mistake, it was too late.

The couple were met, upon their arrival, by a house staff of around twenty, who had waited politely for their arrival in the late afternoon drizzle. They stood, huddled together under umbrellas, and their dark uniforms gave the whole scene a rather funereal air rather than an atmosphere of welcome.

The consensus among the gathered workers was that the bride was a pretty young thing who doubtless deserved better than the mouldering ruin she would now be forced to call home. The fact that she was an orphan, with no ties to any respectable family worth mentioning, raised eyebrows, but then it could hardly have been otherwise; there had been enough rumours about the hall, and the Gallowglass family, to ensure that finding a suitable bride in the local area was quite impossible.

For any other aristocratic family the marriage would have been quite the scandal, but the Gallowglass's of Northumbria were no stranger to gossip and speculation. In fact, the news of Roderick's hasty marriage, and the return of the couple to the family estate, was seen by many to be an event of the highest significance, for there had not been a bride at Gallowglass Hall for almost a century. The new Lady Gallowglass would be the first of that name to step over the threshold in living memory.

As Cat stepped out from the Bentley, a murmur rippled through the ranks of the assembled staff. She had the kind of delicate beauty which seemed totally at odds with the grim stern manner of her husband. She wore her rich, glossy black hair in a sleek, close-sheered bob that hugged her elfin face in a way that emphasised the hollows under her cheekbones. She was short, with a slight figure that looked almost boyish. More than one of those assembled felt pity for the young woman as she stumbled, wide-eyed and innocent, into her new home. If she was disappointed at the general state of disrepair around her, she did not show it.

The hall stood on a gentle rise of ground, surrounded on all sides by wide acres of untended grass. The absence of anything resembling a garden surprised and disappointed the young bride; she had entertained fantasies about how she would spend her days here in her new home, and Sunlit afternoons in the garden had played a large part in her daydreams.

The building itself consisted of two wings connected to a tall, three-stories central structure. From the air, Cat speculated, it's form would be very reminiscent of a large black bird, or a bat. The stonework was dark, and the rows of windows reflected the dark sky so that the whole front of the house resembled a hulking shadow. There seemed no life in the thing at all. Cat felt sick when she saw it, but was careful not to show her disappointment, accepting her husband's arm with a smile, and allowing herself to be drawn into her new home.

The next few hours went by in a whirl. Try as she might, Cat found it impossible to remember the names of all the members of staff whose job, she was told, was to see to her every need. The house itself was vast beyond understanding. The tour was conducted at a brisk pace, with her husband leading her through a bewildering warren of staircases, dimly lit corridors, and empty rooms, many of which contained furnishings still draped in white dust sheets.

Her husband pointed out family portraits as they passed, but the list of names was as quickly forgotten as those of the staff. She hurried to keep up with him as he strode ahead.

They came, at last, to a gorgeous bedroom on the ground floor at the extreme east wing. The room was light and airy, containing a luxurious four poster bed, tall fully stacked bookcases, and a wide bay window that opened out onto the broad sweep of lawn at the rear of the building. It seemed disconcertingly at odds with the rest of the house. It was as though they had stepped into another building entirely.

"This is your room," Her husband said, standing at the threshold, observing his young bride as she walked around the room. She looked at him, confused.

"My room?" She said, the surprise clear in her voice. "Will we not be sleeping..."

"This has always been the room for the Lady of the house," her husband answered, his voice calm and measured, as though reassuring a child. "A place for you."

"But it is on the ground floor?"

"With superb access to the gardens, I know how much you enjoy your walks. Honestly, darling, it is the way things are done here. The Lord and Lady keep separate rooms. You will need to get used to this."

"And where is your room?" She asked, painfully aware of the neediness apparent in her voice.

"My room is on the upper floor of the west wing."

"But that's the other side of the house!"

"Please don't make a fuss, dear. You will just have to get used to how we do things here."

She tried to hide her disappointment with a smile, gesturing for her husband to join her in the room. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before stepping over the threshold and taking her in his arms. She kissed him, her mouth soft and parted. Again, she was dismayed to sense a reticence, a hesitation she had not encountered on their honeymoon in France. He seemed on edge, unresponsive. It was only when she used her tongue that he began to kiss her back. She felt the evidence of his arousal beneath his trousers, and she placed her palm there, pressing slightly. He moaned into her mouth, and she felt a thrill at the power she had over him. She broke off the kiss. "Close the door, husband." She liked using the word. "Draw the curtains. I've had enough of tours and introductions. Let's pretend we're back at the hotel. Do you remember? Such large beds. I want to be alone, just with you."

She felt dismay as he gently disentangled her arms from around his neck. "We should dress for dinner, Cat. Guests are arriving to welcome us. We shouldn't insult them by keeping them waiting."

He broke off from her, then turned and strode towards the door. "I believe you will find suitable clothing in the closet."

"Will you come to me tonight?" She asked, annoyed with herself for her tone. He hovered in the doorway, barely meeting her gaze.

"Darling, you must be very tired," he said. "It has been a long day. You should get some rest."

He closed the door.

She stared, perplexed, and hurt. What had happened? She fought the impulse to follow, to demand an explanation, but pride held her back. She distracted herself by exploring her room. She was drawn to the large pine wardrobe that stood along one side of the wall. Opening it, she let out a slow breath of wonder. Inside she found a variety of dresses and gowns, beautiful and obviously expensive, hanging in rows. She let her hand trail through the garments, pulling out a nightdress, as delicate and sheer as a bridal veil; the silk felt as unsubstantial as water against her fingertips. She imagined how it would feel against her naked body, how she would look. She covered her mouth to suppress a giggle; just wait until he sees me in this, she thought. He won't be able to walk away then. Lying the nightdress on the bed, she explored the other items in the wardrobe, hoping to pick out something to wear for dinner. She was not looking forward to it, but hopefully she would at least be able to make a suitably dramatic entrance. It appeared her husband had forgotten the type of woman he had married. She would have to remind him.

The dinner was just as painful as she had dreaded. Her choice of dress was not remarked upon by her husband who didn't seem to notice. She had hoped to spend some alone together, but he clearly had other plans. That night the hall played host to a number of friends and neighbours, none of whom she connected with. The truth was that she had nothing in common with these people. The conversation had been utterly bewildering to her, full of talk of local affairs and families, scandals, and, above all, money. The pace of talk faltered only when she attempted to contribute. There usually followed an awkward silence, before the conversation resumed as though she had not spoken. No one, she noticed, appeared comfortable looking her in the eyes.

Several couples attended: landed gentry from nearby estates accompanied by their silent wives and, in one instance, a woman called Abigail. Cat had hoped to make a connection to someone nearer her own age, but the young woman paid her no attention. Cat tried to hide her rising anger at this general air of rudeness and snobbery. At the earliest opportunity she made her excuses and retired to bed.

No one objected.

THE FIRST NIGHT

In the dream she was cold, though she did not mind the chill. The room in which she stood was dark, barely more than a collection of shadows, though she had a vague perception of stone archways leading off into deeper wells of darkness either side of her. The floor certainly was stone, it's rough surface chill against the soles of her bare feet. She was wearing only her nightdress, the one from the wardrobe, and she had no memory of how she came to be standing there in the dark. Her arms were raised high in the air, stretched out to the side. When she tried to pull them down, she felt the ice-cold clasp of metal encircling each wrist. Strangely, this did not bother her as much as she felt it should. Such is the way with dreams, she said to herself.

She felt the presence in the room before she heard it; the hairs on the back of her neck stirring. Footsteps echoed from behind her: slow, deliberate steps. As if the person making them was aware of the sound and enjoying the effect.

She stood very still, holding her breath as the sounds drew closer, became louder. They stopped behind her. So awfully close behind her. She felt breath on her shoulder. Her heart seemed to lurch inside her chest.

The hand that began to explore her body was gloved in rough leather. She stiffened, letting out a gasp as she felt it's touch. It moved slowly, caressing her shoulder, moving down along her spine towards the swell of her bottom. She closed her eyes, biting into her lower lip to stifle a moan. The hand stole around the front of her body, cupping her breast, squeezing the awakening nipple so hard it made her cry out. She strained at her bonds, hands twisting in their metal restraints.

Helpless.

The hand moved lower, travelling over her flat stomach. Lower. As the gloved fingers pressed in through the flimsy material of her nightdress, pressing into the wet heat between her legs, she let out a groan of longing.

The breath was now at her ear, a male voice spoke in a whisper, a voice she did not recognise:

"Will you come to me? Or will I have to come for you?"

The hand between her legs balled into a fist, taking hold of the material of the nightdress. The sound of tearing fabric echoed around the chamber, a sound that rang in Cat's ears as she awoke, sweating, alone in her marital bed.

THE SECOND DAY

The second day at Gallowglass Hall was little better than the first. Her husband was not present at breakfast, so she dined alone on the slope of grass outside her bedroom, the bay doors open wide to let in the cold crisp air of the morning. She noticed for the first time, that the grounds were not as featureless as it had first appeared. Directly in front of her, down at the bottom of the sweep of lawn and close to a line of trees, there appeared to be a stone chapel, fenced in on all sides by trees, hiding it from view. Its roof was peaked and gabled. It had the air of a mausoleum about it, a family tomb, although she could see no obvious entrance.

The long day stretched before her, and she occupied her time by exploring the crumbling mansion she was now expected to call home.

Nothing she saw was any comfort. The layout of the hall was truly bewildering, staircases led off seemingly at random and she frequently came to dead ends before having to double back. Of course, she was trying to make her way to her husband's bedroom but was frustrated to be met with locked doors and dead ends. Members of staff busied themselves around the hall, but they seemed to have very little interest in talking to her. Most of them averted their eyes when she passed and, when she did attempt conversation, she felt that she was taking up their valuable time. She had not come to the hall with any grand ambition of having authority, but she could not escape the feeling that no-one present was treating her as someone who had any right to be there, let alone as Lady of the Hall.

The stuffiness of the hall finally getting the better of her, she walked the perimeter of the grounds in the hope of fresh air. At least she felt more herself once she was on her own; at least she could drop the mask.

A large lake lay about a mile from the house, the bright water sparkling in the sun, dazzling her. She sat down on its bank, removed her sunhat, and lay back on the grass. Above her, the large puffy clouds sailed majestically over a blue sky. The light was so bright that she could not look for long and, when she returned her gaze to the still waters of the lake, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. At the far end of the lake stood a gazebo, painted bright white. For a moment, she thought she saw her husband, standing, looking out across the lake towards her. Rubbing her eyes to dispel the glare from the sky she looked again. The gazebo stood entry. A trick of the light, she thought, it had only appeared that he had not been alone.

Her walk took her past the mausoleum, and, investigating, she entered the shadow of the trees that appeared to act as a wall. On closer inspection, it became clear that the building, whatever it was, could not be a chapel. She knew that gargoyles regularly featured on religious buildings, but the row of monstrosities that peered down from the steeped roof had no place on a house of God. One, a squat horned demon, peered down from his perch, his distended male member clearly visible even from the ground. If she had been with her husband, Cat would have feigned shock and embarrassment. As she was alone, she circled the building more than once, her fingers trailing over the smooth stone. She imagined the indecent images explained the row of trees, which acted as a screen. You wouldn't want to outrage their sense of decency, she thought with a smile. But, if the building was so offensive, why not simply tear it down? There was much she didn't understand.

She was strangely captivated by the building, which she now took to be simply a folly. She found it fascinating, certainly when it was compared to the drab bulk of the hall. She imagined it would be nice to draw. There was one flaw in the building, which stood out almost like a wound. On the side facing the hall, there was an arched section of brickwork

Her husband did not appear for dinner but rather sent his apologies via the head butler. Annoyed that he had not seen fit to tell her himself, she retired to bed early.

THE SECOND NIGHT

The same dark chamber; the same deep cold.

This time there was light, a faint flickering glow that failed to warm the air. She stood, as she had before, with arms out, and up. Rough rope had replaced the chains, but she was still unable to move. In front of her, and to the side, there was a large ornate mirror, framed with gold and angled in such a way that, although Cat could not see herself, there was a dim reflection of the room behind her.

The stone chamber was large, the ceiling lost in darkness. Torches lined the walls, but only some of them were lit, giving off a pale, sickly light. She could still see nothing but shadows in the arched alcoves lining the main space. In the centre of the room stood a stone altar. Cat could feel no sense of God about the room. She shivered. It was then she realised, without shame or surprise, that she was naked.

She jumped as, reflected in the mirror, she saw an explosion of light, a figure in white, burst in from one of the dark alcoves. The distorted perspective of the mirror initially gave Cat the impression that a white bird, possibly a dove, had flapped its way inside. Her next impression was that it was a ghost, covered in white sheets that flailed about in torment. Only when the figure came more clearly into the light did Cat see that it was a young woman in a voluminous white dress. A wedding dress. The woman moved strangely, a curious mixture that evoked both struggle and dancing. Cat could hear the woman gasping for breath, a shallow panting that seemed almost, but not quite, fearful.

Cat watched, horrified, as the woman was lifted full off the stone floor, her back crashing against the wall. There she seemed to hang suspended, her legs raised wide as her hands clawed at the wall behind her. Her mouth was parted, and Cat saw the woman's tongue flicker out to taste the air as she writhed and panted from her impossible position.

Cat strained her neck to turn around, trying to look directly at what was happening. What she saw, out of the corner of her eye, was a confusion of shapes and shadows. The woman was not alone in her struggle; she was joined by a dark figure, pressed against her, holding her against the wall. All Cat could make out was that the figure was tall, powerfully built, with black hair that fell almost to the shoulders. He had his back to her so she could make nothing of his features.

Cat turned her face away, her face warming with embarrassment, even as her mind raced to make sense of what she was seeing. The sound of the woman's frantic breathing was amplified by the stone walls of the chamber, and the rustle of her dress, as her body was explored, seemed very close. Cat found she could not tear her gaze away from the image in the mirror. The woman to be of a similar age to Cat, her true age, and her blonde curls gathered to the back of her head in a classic undo, revealing her face. Already, the carefully made curls were becoming loose, strands falling down to rest on her shoulders.

With a cry the woman fell to the floor, falling to her knees, the wide hoop of her dress pooling around her. She brushed some loose strands of hair from her face, her wide eyes gazing up into empty space. Her expression reminded Cat of paintings of saints, a mixture of worship and awe.

She was pulled to her feet and Cat watched with fascination as the woman had the beautiful dress stripped from her body. Cat knew from experience that the removing of a wedding dress was far from easy, even in the case of her own, which had involved fewer layers. In her own case she had been allowed privacy and dignity as she had carefully removed her dress in the hotel bathroom, putting on her nightdress, bought specially a week earlier, before she entered coyly into the main bedroom where her now husband was waiting beneath the sheets. It had all been very civilised and her husband had been very tender as he took her into his arms.