The Bride of the Immortal (36 page)

“Here we are. This is the home of Mrs Crouse. Won’t you go in and talk to her?”

“But…”

“I’ll be waiting outside. Take your time.”

Mairin had the strong impulse to turn around and run when Adrijan simply rang the doorbell and stepped aside. What had become of the man who had gently kissed her on the forehead?

Soon a young woman appeared, axing her plan to make a strategic withdrawal, and agreed to take her to Mrs Crouse.

Curiously Mairin followed her, taking her chance to gaze at the high walls and ancient furniture. The apartment looked impressive, yet she was unable to ignore the displeasing stench that lingered in the air. Despite the wintery cold most windows were open – obviously a desperate try to oppose the smell.

“Who are you? What do you want? I don’t know you.”

The moderately loud but discerning voice that welcomed her belonged to an old woman who was sitting at a heavy wooden table almost in the centre of the room. A thick fur coat and a fitting hat kept her from freezing in her own home.

 “My name is Mairin. I’m… I’m a friend of Father Adrijan.”

“Oh, Father Adrijan!” The woman’s eyes that had looked bleak were suddenly glowing and her hostile manner had dissipated without a trace. Mairin suspected that her own reaction regarding Adrijan was strangely similar.

“Yes, yes… How nice of him to send you, Miss Mairin!”

“Just ‘Mairin’ is fine, Mrs Crouse,” she awkwardly corrected the woman.

 “Yes, yes… Won’t you have a seat, child?” Mrs Crouse encouraged her.

Mairin decided not to take off her coat and hesitantly sat down on the only free chair, cursing Hilda’s choice of clothes. She had always thought corsets to be inconvenient but the pants she was wearing were probably unbeatable.

“Yes… yes…” the woman murmured.

“Have you lived here for long?”

“Yes, yes… we have been living here for a long time, my husband and I.”

“Your husband?” Mairin asked. She hadn’t seen anyone else around.

“I used to travel a lot with my husband. Together we went to see the world. We resided in fine hotels and ate at expensive restaurants… yes, yes.”

The woman paused, and Mairin could literally see that she was reminiscing.

“Oh how I loved him… do you want to see a picture?”

Mrs Crouse didn’t wait for a positive reply and with the help of a walking stick slowly hobbled to her bureau, where she retrieved the photo she had been talking about.

“Yes, yes,” she kept muttering.

The way the old woman walked, Mairin expected her to trip at any moment, but she miraculously managed to return to her seat unharmed.

“Here it is… yes, yes.”

She seemed agitated and Mairin couldn’t tell whether that was the reason why she was breathing heavily or if she was simply exhausted from the short distance she had covered.

Mrs Crouse’s treasure rested on the table but instead of an explanation the white-haired woman moved it closer to Mairin and gazed at her in anticipation. The object seemed too valuable for her to touch, so that she decided just to lean forward to be able to study it more closely.

“Yes, yes… “ Mrs Crouse repeated.

The black and white photo showed several people having supper in the dining hall of a luxurious establishment, perhaps a five-star hotel or an exclusive restaurant. A woman in her thirties was obviously the attraction of the table. She wore an exquisite gown and her hair had been put up in curls. Around her neck lay a close-fitting expensive looking necklace. Mairin couldn’t ascertain what kind of jewels had been used but she guessed it were diamonds. There were two men sitting to the woman’s right, the first keeping a bit of distance between his and her chair. To her left, sitting noticeably closer, was another man, who seemed to be more intimate. Mairin pointed at him.

“Is that your husband?”

Mrs Crouse nodded proudly. “Yes, yes… isn’t he handsome?”

Mairin wasn’t sure how to reply. The man was considerably older than the woman, whom she believed to be Mrs Crouse, and even though he looked cultivated and distinguished in his dinner jacket, she wouldn’t have thought him handsome.

“Was this on one of your many journeys across the world?” Mairin asked, trying to avoid telling a white lie.

“Yes, yes… one of our journeys. He passed away soon after. It’s so sad without him and I’ve been so sad ever since.”

Mrs Crouse’s change in mood was unpleasant and Mairin was afraid she had caused it with her question.

“But surely you must have friends,” she suggested. “Everyone on this picture clearly adored you.”

“Yes, yes… we had many friends. They supported me for the duration of my mourning period and then…” Her gaze wandered to the window. “When they realised that I had no intention to remarry or give them money they gave up, one by one… yes, yes. Soon only a few female friends remained.”

Mairin swallowed. Making conversation wasn’t her strong point.

“And now?” she dared to ask.

“Yes, yes… now…”

Mairin inclined her head.

“Now I don’t have anyone to talk to. Yes, yes…”

“Don’t you have any relatives?”

“A niece. Oh she’s a nice girl, my niece. Yes, yes… but she is so far away.”

“Will she visit you soon? For Christmas perhaps?”

“Yes, yes… Christmas. No, she won’t visit me. She is staying with her children… yes, yes.”

“And besides your niece? What about your friends?”

“Yes, yes… I have a nephew.”

Mairin was glad she had finally found someone, but Mrs Crouse leant closer to her and started whispering in an unpleasantly loud voice, in a manner only people, who were hard of hearing, were able to, “But I think he is after my money and my jewels, yes, yes.”

“I’m certain that can’t be the case, Mrs Crouse,” Mairin tried to calm her.

“Yes, yes… he visits from time to time but sometimes things go missing...”

The young woman who had guided Mairin into the living room brought tea and cookies on a tray and she was grateful for an opportunity to stay silent and search for a less inconvenient topic.

The servant however had overheard the accusation and felt the need to disagree.

“Don’t say that, Mrs Crouse. Joseph surely means well.”

“Yes, yes… well… but things go missing. Do you know where my sapphire ring is, Jane?”

The woman declined sharply and left the room. Had she been accused of stealing before as well?

“Your friends…” Mairin tried to change the topic, “what about your friends?”

“Yes, yes… dead… many are dead. If you get as old as I am, there is hardly anyone left to talk to. I’ve called one of the remaining girls not long ago, yes, yes… but she didn’t make any sense. It’s sad, so sad. They’re all not well up here,” Mrs Crouse pointed at her head.

“I see,” Mairin mumbled. “Um… what will you do for Christmas? Are you going to celebrate with Jane?”

“Yes, yes… Christmas. I’m not going to do anything on Christmas. Yes, yes.”

Mairin wasn’t really surprised to hear that but she was hoping the woman would at least be able to rejoice in something.

“Yes, yes… all that’s left for me is to die. I’d be glad if I could just die.”

Mairin felt a lump in her throat. The only people the old woman had loved and cherished were gone but saying that was clearly going too far.

“You mustn’t say that, Mrs Crouse,” she scolded her, but in reality she couldn’t find a reason for the old woman to cling to her life. Mairin was torn between coming up with an excuse to leave and completing the probably unfeasible task of proving to the woman that her wish to pass away was wrong and rash.

“Good day, Mrs Crouse!” Adrijan gently shook the woman’s hand, trying not to put too much pressure to her brittle bones. “I see Miss Muriel has found her way to you – how pleasant!”

Mairin was speechless. Hadn’t he told her that he would wait for her outside?

“Father Adrijan! How nice of you to come! Is it time? Can I go see him now?”

Why wasn’t Mrs Crouse muttering anymore?

“That depends entirely on your wish, Mrs Crouse.”

Mairin tried to catch his eye but he seemed to ignore it.

“Wouldn’t you prefer if Miss Muriel continued seeing you? I’m certain it’s nice to chat with her, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mrs Crouse waved Adrijan closer to whisper into his ear but again she didn’t tone down her voice enough so Mairin was able to understand her just the same.

“Are you certain she hasn’t stolen anything? I can’t find my ring!”

Mairin frowned.

“You never know with young people these days! I don’t even think she’s married yet and look at her, she must be well over twenty!”

A smile was playing about Adrijan’s lips.

Very gently he put his hand on the old woman’s shoulder, reassuring her that Mairin hadn’t taken anything. His gesture reminded her of what had happened on the day he had left for
Traumstadt
. Had it not meant much after all?

“Can I go now? Oh, I want to see him again!” Mrs Crouse said and got up, hobbling towards the adjacent room.

Adrijan watched her for a few moments before answering.

“If that’s your wish.”

Both of them vanished behind the door but it was slightly ajar and after winning the fight with her conscience, Mairin nervously walked over to it and gazed through the gap. Mrs Crouse had allowed the priest to help her take off the coat and slipped into her bed, now only wearing her nightgown. Adrijan sat down next to her on a chair he had pulled close.

“Make it quick, father!” she urged him.

“Are you certain you don’t want to reconsider, Mrs Crouse? Mairin is a nice girl.”

The old woman shook her head.

“I’ve been waiting for this for over forty years. Nothing can change my mind now.”

Upon hearing this, Adrijan took a small object out of his pocket and Mairin recognised it as the hour glass Vivian had showed to her in the winter garden. Was he going to take Mrs Crouse’s life in front of her eyes?

“Hold on to this and relax,” he said, handing her the hour glass.

The old woman was agitated. Perhaps she was trying to make sure that there was nothing she had forgotten.

“There’s an envelope in the drawer of my dresser, Father. Please take it and give it to the church.”

Adrijan nodded. “What about your niece and nephew?”

Mrs Crouse laughed lightly. “There’s still enough left for them.”

Mairin was shocked about the change that had taken place in the old woman since Adrijan’s arrival. How could she summon so much strength for the gruesome purpose of dying?

“Very well,” he said. “Now close your eyes and try to think of your husband. Relax and slowly feel the energy leave your body…”

“Will it hurt, Father?” the old woman asked, following his instructions, but Mairin could already see the object in her hand glow brightly. Its shine spread and soon Mrs Crouse’s whole skin was covered with a thin layer of sparkling, light blue dust. Adrijan touched her hand.

“Don’t worry, Martha. I’m with you and before long you will be reunited with your loved one.”

Mairin’s heart was beating fast. What was he doing? Priests weren’t supposed to lie.

“Let your energy flow to me. There’s nothing left here for you.”

She felt the urge to interrupt whatever it was, she was observing but the peaceful expression on Mrs Crouse’s face kept her from doing so. Instead she watched it happen, the silent transfer of life. It progressed excruciatingly slowly but the woman didn’t seem to be in any pain. Mairin’s gaze wandered from her to Adrijan, whose face was again showing a solemn expression. The dust that emitted a blue glittering aura, soon also covered him.

And so it came about, that Mairin experienced the murder of Mrs Crouse, as silently and quiescently as she was spellbound.

It was over. Adrijan closed the woman’s eyes, took the hour glass and clasped her wrinkled hands in front of her body. After the transfer he always felt physically revived while the effect on his mind was the absolute opposite. Scared to face Mairin he got up from the chair and retrieved the envelope from Mrs Crouse’s dresser first. Then he turned around.

She was standing in the door, looking at him in a way one could only look at a murderer. The abhorrence and disappointment, as well as the lack of comprehension in her gaze were a more severe punishment than her reaction to his approach. Adrijan allowed her to slap him and quickly covered her hand with his own to keep it on his cheek. This was more like what he had expected when he had told her that he had taken her father’s life.

Mairin tried to pull back her hand, but he kept pressing it against his face. Without letting go of her he removed the small chip he had told Hilda to plant under the collar of her coat. Adrijan had listened in to their conversation. He knew what Mrs Crouse had told her, yet Mairin condemned him for what he had done. How could she have forgiven him for her father’s murder but not for Mrs Crouse’s? Hadn’t her death too come as a release?

By inviting her to bear witness to his deed, Adrijan had provoked this situation but now that he experienced it, he wished he hadn’t. Every lie, every kind of pretence had to be better than this.