A Different Reflection (7 page)

“Alice!” he simply stated as he stood and walked to the roaring fire.

“Oh dear! A big scene at his birthday ball, and in front of all his friends.” I grimaced.

“Oh, you have no idea! She arrived in the darkest shade of red that I think I have ever seen, but the stories were true; she was beautiful and flawless but full of hate and anger.”

“Gosh, I would have loved to have seen the look on his face!” I smirked.

George then walked to the table, put his glass down and then took mine and set it down beside his. He crouched in front of me and took my hands in his. “The next part is the hard to believe part!'” he sincerely said. The look in his eye told me I needed to be prepared for something big, I swallowed hard.

“Go on,” I replied.

“She waited until the ball was all but ended, and then appeared alone in the middle of the ballroom, where Henry and his mother were. Alice was no ordinary girl. She had watched James since he left her in Yorkshire, and waited for the right moment to get her revenge over her broken heart. In fairness to her, she did truly love him, I believe.”

“You say she was no ordinary girl… what exactly did she do?” I hesitantly asked. George squeezed my hands.

“I have a good feeling about you, Katharina. You know your love of fairy tales and stories that your mother used to read to you as a child?” he asked.

“Yes? I don't see how that is relevant?”

“What would you say if I told you that most of those stories were written based on truth?” He gazed into my eyes, looking for an answer.

“I would say that a ‘fairy tale' is exactly what they are – make-believe tales.” I laughed lightly. “Why, George? Are you telling me that they are real?”

“I said that some are based on truths. Not everything is always as it appears, Katharina,” he then replied. I released my hands from his and took another sip of wine.

“Please do go on, I am at a loss as to where this story is leading,” I replied. He pulled a chair up close to me and we sat with our knees inches apart.

“Alice declared that she was a witch,” he then said, matter-of-factly. I had unfortunately just taken a sip of wine and nearly choked.

“I'm sorry, a witch? Like the wicked witch of the west? You are joking, right?” I asked rhetorically.

“I never joke about this!” he replied sternly. I stopped laughing. “She had waited until she could punish him vengefully, and in front of the one woman who loved him so much… Margaret! She was not going to let him suffer lightly!” he remarked. I tapped my hands onto my thighs, thinking that I would humour George, who I was now starting to think was slightly deranged.

“Alright, so what did she do then?” I asked, trying to sound serious.

“She cast a spell – one which would see him suffer for many, many years – and he still does!” he remarked.

“Wait, you are saying he is still
alive
?” I quizzed.

“In a manner of speaking!”

“How so? We are talking over 250 years here, George. Have you done the math?” I asked. He grunted and shook his head.

“Always this part that gets the questions!” he remarked.

“How many people have you told about this? Is this why the Wainwrights left? I mean, it is hard to take in, George, without you sounding like you need institutionalising!” I replied sarcastically.

“You promised that you would listen to the whole story and then assimilate and let me know your thoughts!” he suddenly snapped. I stopped and held my hand up.

“I did. I apologise. Please do finish and then I will let you know what I think!” I laughed lightly, trying to sound convincing.

“Alice conjured up the most vengeful of spells. She wanted James to suffer and learn from his behaviour. The spell she cast upon him was to torture him slowly over many years, whilst she sat and watched with delight.”

“You haven't told me what she did though, George,” I asked, now a little irritated.

“She banished him to live a life watching from the outside looking in!” he said as he walked to one of the large mirrors. “He is captive within the mirrors that you have so frequently remarked upon; bound to watch life pass him by, like looking through a window, but never being able to pass through it,” he said as he touched the mirror. Now he had my attention; I too had thought a couple of times that I had seen something. I stood and walked toward him.

“You are telling me that the thirty-year-old James Aldersley, the man in the portrait in the long hall, from 1750, is trapped inside this mirror?” I repeated.

“That's exactly what I am saying. Good summary, Katharina!” he remarked as I stepped back.

“So he can see us?” I asked, feeling a little uneasy, as now George was sounding like he was a little bit more insane, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

“Oh he can see us alright, and I him. I have had to put up with his sorry sight in this form for 264 years now!” he replied as he turned to me.

“You can see him? Can you talk to him? Wait, why am I even asking these questions? This is insane! Brilliant, but insane!” I laughed as I went back to get my glass.

“She's not going anywhere!” George then said. “Give her a minute, I feel more questions…”

“You're talking to him now?” I asked, frustrated.

“There we go!” George remarked. “Yes, he's a little angry at me for trying to explain his sorry situation!” George said. “What he has to remember is that I have had to share it with him!” he then stated. I stood still.

“What?” I asked. George sighed and returned to his chair and re-filled his glass again.

“Alice cast the spell that night. All in the name of love! She wanted him to think about what he had done to her and other women in his past for as long as she saw fit. She thought it was about time that he had the opportunity to assess his life completely, and the best way to do that was to isolate him from anyone in this world.”

“But he's not dead?” I asked.

“No, not dead, just… stuck! Alice gave him the opportunity to rectify himself, by saying that the spell would be broken if he could make a woman fall in love with him through his words alone, which would be spoken to her through the mirror. Someone pure of heart, who would want to know him completely and would fall in love with him without his touch! That woman has to declare her love openly and truthfully to free him and me. Or if that didn't happen in fifty years, she said that she would come back and break the spell herself, as he would have learnt his lesson well. However, witches being witches and all… unfortunately, ten years after she cast this spell, she was caught in a witch hunt and burnt at the stake, so that put an end to that!”

“He can never get out?” I asked, trying to believe a word he was saying.

“Oh, he can if he can stop being so pig-headed and feeling sorry for himself and actually try. God knows I have tried!” he remarked as he gulped down his wine.

“How do you fit into this, George?” I then asked.

“That valet that you spoke of before… the one that would have been disappointed watching him change, so dramatically, and be saddened… that was me. As Alice cast the spell and his mother tried not to collapse at the loss of her son, I felt duty-bound to ask that he have someone familiar to be able to converse with. She happily obliged – with me! So we are now both stuck like this, at the age we were back then, with no hope of life carrying on normally until he can get his act together!” George gestured toward the mirror.

“How does he eat, drink and sleep?” I asked, thinking that I could stop George and his ‘tale' from being so believable.

“Oh, Alice was clever. Everything that we see reflected that is not living – as in people, or animals – he has the mirror image on his side of the mirror! He can eat the same foods, read the same books, have the same objects, but everywhere that we see a mirror it is like a window to him back to this world! So he watches everything passing along in front of him, with little or no hope!” George shook his head. I gulped my wine down.

“How is any woman supposed to be able to listen to his words if they cannot see or hear him?” I asked. George sat up promptly.

“Ah, good question Katharina. I believe that the spell is impenetrable to most, and only those pure of heart, and willing to believe, can see. They have to be believers of all things possible and then they too will be able to see him and indeed converse with him!” he stated.

“Like children and ghosts?” I asked.

“Well, twelve-year-old Maria Wainwright definitely saw him and conversed with him many times, much to her parents' disapproval. They thought the house was haunted and that she was going mad! She was too young and too naïve; trying to get her to stay in hope of something progressing didn't happen, unfortunately!”

I sighed and looked into the mirror to which I returned. I placed my hand upon it. “Even if I wanted to believe your story, George, it really does sound like a tall tale with no truth.” I sighed, starting to think that my so-called front page story was an old man intent on being a big believer of fairy tales himself.

“But you have seen him!” George then replied. “You have felt his gaze!”

“The mirrors feel warm to the touch, unlike most!” I then remarked. My head was spinning from a story that was leading nowhere fast, and from the amount of wine that George had obviously supplied to help his courage to tell the story and mine to accept it.

The thunder had now started. With the flashing lightning and the rain that had still not relented, I had the sudden urge to retire to bed. I could tell from George's face that he most probably expected me to run, but one thing I had learnt was that there was no harm to be had from him. I held my hands up in defeat. “George, I like you and this has been an interesting evening, but can I please take all of this in and speak with you tomorrow, at breakfast? I seem to have a headache accumulating and feel the need to sleep!” I stated.

“Of course. Thank you for not bolting out of the door! I will see you in the morning!” he replied as I walked from the room, but not before taking off my heels, which were now making me feel slightly precarious.

I walked up the staircase and every mirror that I now came upon I stared at intently. It was an unnerving thought that someone could be watching me, a bit like in the movies, where the FBI or police have interview rooms with two-way mirrors. I wanted to see him – if he even existed! I shook my head – what on earth was I thinking? This was ridiculous. All I could think about now was how much John was going to love this, which made me frown.

I entered my room and took the liberty of undressing behind the screen, just in case, as there was one large mirror in my room. By the time I slipped under the heavy blankets, my eyes were nearly closed. I had no idea that listening to stories could be so tiresome…

I knew that I had not slept too long when I awoke with a start, but the banging thunder, which I was sure was right above the house, was enough to wake anyone from the dead. I jumped up just as the lightning snapped again, and the lamp that I had left on at the side of my bed flickered and then went out. I sat up. The room suddenly seemed very large, bathed in only glowing embers from the fire that had been lit without me realising. Feeling thirsty from the wine that I had drunk too much of, I decided to go to the bathroom and get some water. I stumbled to the edge of the bed and reached out for the dressing table, which had my phone charging upon it.
Apps are fast becoming a favourite piece of technology
, I thought, as I turned on the torch.

I stubbed my toe on the doorjamb not once but twice and bent to rub it; then, losing my sense of direction for a second, I turned the wrong way. As I started down the corridor and saw my reflection in the mirror at the end of the hallway, the beam of light illuminating my face, I stopped and tutted, then turned the right way. I walked about three steps and then the hair on the back of my neck stood on end again, so I stopped. God, I was going to give myself a heart attack if I kept carrying on this way, I had far too many thoughts of fairy tales running through my mind! “For goodness' sake,” I muttered to myself and I turned and shined the phone light at the mirror I had just turned away from. No sooner had I raised the light and shined it directly at that mirror did my heart start racing. It was not me looking back at myself, but the figure of a man with his hand to his eyes, cursing about the bright light in his!

I turned quickly and screamed, hearing someone tell me to ‘wait', but I tried to tell myself I was dreaming and walked away in the darkness. Mumbling to myself all the way down the corridor, I neared what I thought was the bathroom. Another mirror was on the wall beside me, and something caught my eye and moved when I stopped. I froze for a second, then swallowed hard and turned and looked toward it in the dark and slowly lifted my still-lit phone. There he was again, slightly dishevelled, wearing a loose white shirt and a very worried look about his face.

“Hi,” he said simply as he raised one hand and waved to me. It took me about three seconds to absorb what was in front of me, then as the hallway spun and I felt myself passing out, I distinctly remember him saying, “Not quite the effect I was hoping for!” then I hit the floor.

I could hear voices. As I tried to process what had happened, I listened; I knew George's voice, but not the other.

“Hi – that's all you could think of to say?”

“Well, she took me by surprise, not to say blinded me with that light!”

“What were you trying to do? Scare the living daylights out of her?”

“Well I don't know, George! I think you were doing a fine job of sending her running during dinner with your story telling!”

“Well it was the truth, and nothing is ever going to change with your attitude. Eventually this house will fall into disrepair and we are going to be in serious trouble!”

“It wasn't exactly my choice to be left like this!”

“Nor mine, but your lack of respect for women in general is what got us into this mess in the first place! Maybe Katharina was correct and Alice should have shot you with a pistol – it certainly would have saved a long lifetime of misery for both of us!”

“Well thank you for that, George! I still cannot believe that she agreed to stay the night anyway, after you enlightened her. I was simply intrigued by her strength of character and choice to remain here, so I was watching her out of curiosity.”

“Well, now that you seem to have caused her to faint, she may have second thoughts about staying!”

“She is quite beautiful, is she not?”

“Will you focus for one moment boy?”

“I was merely observing, George!”

“Well, stop observing and think about what you are going to say when she wakes up, because quite clearly she can see and hear you!”

I groaned lightly as I fought to open my eyes and was then blinded by light as the electricity came back on.

“Oh this should be interesting!” I heard a voice say.

“Are you alright, Katharina? I think you had quite a shock then!” George asked me. I blinked a couple of times, looked at him and then at the mirror to my side, only to see the same young dishevelled man still staring at me. I quickly scooted up closely to George, who laughed lightly. “It really is alright, you have nothing to fear, it is only James that you see before you!” I stood after looking at George and realising that he was encouraging me to take a good look. Then I continued to stare for some time at the man in front of me. He looked agitated and placed his hands on his hips with frustration. “Give her a moment, James!”

“Well say something, please; it is highly frustrating not knowing what you think!” The man in the mirror then said to me. I took a step closer, as did he, and touched the mirror. Even though he was dishevelled and his hair was long, there was no mistaking those blue, alluring eyes. I gasped, stepped back and then ran down the hallway and toward the staircase. “You see – I didn't even really say anything George and she's going!” I heard him exclaim with annoyance.

“Great, another chance lost. Katharina, wait!” I heard George shout after me.

I raced down the staircase and across the entrance into the long hall that held the many portraits I had looked at with George. After turning on the lights and rushing up to the portrait of James Aldersley, aged twenty-five years, I stood there and tried to calm my breathing. Not taking my eyes off the picture, and as George caught up with me and stopped at my side, gasping, I asked the only question that popped into my head. “What kind of trickery is this?”

George, still gasping, replied between breaths. “No trickery. I swear that I was telling you the truth, Katharina!” he replied as he bent over and held his knees. I reached out and rubbed his back.

“Are you alright?” I asked him. He held his hand up whilst he caught his breath to acknowledge that he was alright.

“He'll be fine, it's just far too many years of doing not an awful lot!” The voice from before suddenly said. I looked to the mirror further along from the portrait and reluctantly went over to it to find a very nervous-looking James Aldersley. “You promise you will not scream or faint at the sight of me this time?” he asked.

I shook my head and stared at him, then the portrait, then back again. “I cannot believe that this is true,” I then said as I found my voice.

“Well I am standing right here!” James replied as he looked at himself. He then ran his fingers through his hair and straightened himself up a little bit. “I do apologise about my appearance, though; I wasn't expecting that you would see me so quickly!”

“You have been stuck within these walls for 264 years?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, yes, but I have had the privilege of having George for company,” he replied as he looked to him, realising that he had now straightened up again and caught his breath.

I turned and looked at George, who gave me a very pleading look, silently begging me to believe him. I laughed, then shook my head. “Well you're not boring, I'll give you that!” I sarcastically replied, and then walked across to a chair, sat in view of the mirror and portrait and sighed heavily. “Oh sweet Mary and Joseph, my mother always told me there was magic in the world. I thought she was just keeping my childhood fantasies alive.” I placed my head in my hands and growled. “Well unless I want locking up in an asylum for the mentally unbalanced, I cannot really be printing this story, can I? No one in their right mind will believe me – particularly my editor. Then there's the creepy strange people that may try camping out here or breaking in, which in the grand scheme of things is not going to help you two at all!” I announced as I looked up to find both of them looking at each other. “What?” I asked them.

“You mean, you're not going to run? And you believe us?” George asked hopefully.

“Well, unless this is the work of Steven Spielberg, or a reality television programme, the evidence is kind of staring me in the face, isn't it?” I replied.

“Steven who? And what programme?” James asked. Both George and I found ourselves laughing uncontrollably at James' remark; he had obviously not been too bothered about keeping up with many relevant things of today. “What's so funny?” he asked with irritation as I tried to stop laughing.

“I need coffee!” I announced as I stood and walked out to the hall. I thought about the magnitude of what they had told me. Everything that I had believed as a child, that I had convinced myself was fantasy and fairy tale, was actually very real – and here with me right now. James appeared in the mirror next to me in the entrance hall as I thought deeply about the whole situation, making me jump. “Will you stop doing that?” I snapped.

“What? I am walking that is all!” he gestured.

“Appearing without any warning! I am not as used to this as George! Anyway, how are you doing that?” I then asked as I walked to the mirror and tried to look down into it and beyond.

“What, walking? I have feet!” he sarcastically replied as he lifted them one at a time to show me.

“Oh, we have a comedian! Not walking, you arse! Moving from one mirror to another!” I stated with as much sarcasm.

“Oh, this is going to be so interesting. She isn't going to let you get away with anything, you know!” George laughed as we bantered.

“I'm not sure. I can walk on this side of the mirror, like you can the rooms on your side. They are whole, and as I walk I move to another window – well, mirror to you. I see them as a window looking out into Northfield,” he replied informatively.

“That must be so weird for you. I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be to be able to see your home as you left it, but not really be here!” I replied before carrying on walking.

We arrived at George's apartment and I found myself quickly looking around for a mirror. A tall one faced the island at which I sat and when James appeared in it I smiled. “I'm not sure that I will ever get used to that!” I announced.

“Oh trust me, you will. He's like an extra shadow. You just have to remember that for everyone else he isn't there!” George then announced.

“So, does this mean that I am pure of heart? That would please my mum immensely!” I then prompted George.

“Well, the spell was only to be visible to those who are. Trust me, you do not meet that many these days!” He winked at me.

George passed me a steaming mug of coffee and placed a plate of biscuits alongside. He suggested that I have one to give me a sugar kick after the adrenaline rush that I had just experienced. “So, do you have any more questions?” George then asked.

“Oh, plenty! I just don't know where to start!” I announced as I sipped the coffee.

“How about the whole ‘witch' thing – was it a shock to discover? You know, to know that they exist?” James suddenly said.

“Trust you to fall for the oldest trick in the book… beauty handed to you on a plate usually suffers some consequence in all fairy tales. I actually admire the fact that the ‘witch', Alice, gave you some time to reflect on you and the self-destructive person you were!” I replied honestly.

“That's a little unfair; I didn't ask to be left like this. I treated her well whilst I was with her!” James tried to justify.

“I do not think it was her intention to leave you that way for fifty years, either; I think that she maybe would have tried twenty years – long enough for everyone you knew to leave you behind. I think that she would have broken the spell then; I have a feeling that she loved you too much!”

“Well, I wish that she would have just talked to me!” James sarcastically replied.

“Would you have listened?” I asked.

“No he wouldn't have!” George then answered. James shot him a look of disapproval.

“How did you find out about her being caught and killed?” I shivered at the thought. “That must have been horrific for her to deal with!”

“She was a witch! What else was to be done?” James snapped.

“James!” George sternly replied, with the tone of a father. It made me smile. “I searched for her for twenty years. Margaret asked me to try and find a way of resolving the spell; she found it difficult to be separated from James. When Margaret died about eight years after James found himself in this situation, I carried on searching. It was only when I travelled to Yorkshire and visited many places that I found out about Alice. I didn't want to really believe it myself, but she lived in a small village near a place called Pendle Hill, and it has in its past been renowned for witchcraft and witch hunts. The poor girl wasn't even thirty-five years old; she had changed her name to Eliza, but it was confirmed that it was her and it was too late, there was only one other way now!” George sipped his coffee. He had made an extra cup and James turned around and from his side of the mirror picked up a mug that looked exactly the same, although the one in front of us still remained where it stood. George looked at me, then the mug. “It takes a while to get used to how things work. It took us years to understand,” he then confirmed. I nodded in reply.

“It also took George another two years to tell me about Alice!” James then stated angrily.

“Well, how could I tell you that the easiest resolution was no more?” George shrugged.

“I find it hard to believe that in all this time, you still have not managed to convince a woman that you love her by word alone? I mean, you're handsome, have a great home and are obviously wealthy. Why are you still trapped?”

“The spell was never about that! It wasn't about James' wealth, assets or good looks. It was about self-respect, and respect for others, and above all love and loyalty. You cannot love someone if you are not loyal to them and respect them whole-heartedly!” George announced. I raised my eyebrows.