The Strange Marriage of Lady Crawford

A Paranormal Regency Romance

by Aline deWinter

Epilogue

The round moon was riding through the clouds above Edinburgh Castle the night they saw Dark Robbie.

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Rusty and Oliver had  run into each other at the Lawn Market and stopped into the Hole in the Wall for a rest. It had been a chill and blustery day and, as the amber glow of the pub wrapped its warmth around them, they saw two wing chairs beside the fire being vacated by two old men and their two black dogs.

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“Well,” said Rusty rubbing his big hands together as Oliver took a seat. “What’ll you have?”

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“A dram of brandy and a mince pie,” said Oliver feeling in the pocket of his coat for his purse.

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“Ah, forget it,” said Rusty. “It’s on me this time. I’ll give you the opportunity to catch me up later.”

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As Rusty went to the bar, he heard a loud bang! A bluster of wind had slapped the door back against the wall, and it now creaked back and forth like a broken wing along the edge of yawning black rectangle of night. He shivered.

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“Those old gents should mind the door,” Rusty said to barman nervously drumming his fingers on the smooth wood of the counter. “Two brandies please and…uh…two mince pies.”

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Rusty looked over at Oliver who was smoking cozily with his feet towards the fire. He wondered why he felt so on edge. The full moon — that’s all it is. He suddenly wondered what happened to Dark Robbie, but as the month had gone on with no word, he often wondered about that. It was clear that whatever prize Lady Mary was offering at her strange party had gone to Dark Robbie. After placing his shillings on the bar, Rusty went and sat down beside the fire, and stared at Oliver who simply grinned and exhaled an O of smoke.

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“Do you know,” Oliver said still grinning. “That on that very wall at the back of this pub was where they burned witches?”

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“I knew that,” said Rusty leaning back in his chair and scowling.

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“Well, did you know one of those witches had a surname of Crawford?” Oliver looked sly-eyed at Rusty.

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“What are you getting at?”

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“Just a thought.”

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The drinks and pies were set on the table.

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“So, were you snooping in the public records, Oliver?”

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“I was told about it. Isn’t it strange that we haven’t had a word since that little gathering of Lady Mary’s? It’s as if it never happened at all.”

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“I wonder where Robbie is. The winner! What the devil did he win?”

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The door banged again and this time the wind whistled in with the sound voices from the street.

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He was there.

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Rusty looked up from devouring his pie and saw him standing behind Oliver’s chair, looking haggard and very drunk.

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“Huh! Well speaking of the Devil himself! Oliver! Dark Robbie’s here!” Rusty cried standing up to shake Dark Robbie’s hand and tapping Oliver on the shoulder at the same time. “Good to see you, lad.”

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Oliver stood up and turned around in shock.

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“Well Robbie! Where have you been?

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“Here,” said Dark Robbie, barely audible. “I’ve been here. I saw you coming in…”

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“Well, well, well, “ said Oliver. “So, your not at at Crawford Priory after all.”

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“No… No!” said Dark Robbie.

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Dark Robbie began to shrink away but Oliver grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the fire while Rusty drew another chair in, smiling with all sorts of questions in his eyes.

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“Well, Robbie, where have you been?” Rusty asked putting a little cheer into his voice.

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Oliver sat in the next chair leaning toward his brooding friend eagerly.

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Sitting between them, Rusty thought Dark Robbie had a cowering look, glancing from one to the other of his companions as if he was being pinned down by two demons with four gleaming red eyes. Rusty slapped his friend on the back reassuringly and smiled encouragingly, pained at the great change in the once dashing and confident Dark Robbie..

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“You won the prize didn’t you?” said Oliver. “You sly old dog. She always fancied you.”

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Rusty gently tapped Dark Robbie’s hand.

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“What’s been going on? She said she’d send word to everyone but I never heard a thing after.”

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Dark Robbie stared sullenly at the fire. Finally he said, “Yes, well, I did win didn’t I…but…it wasn’t what you think.”

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“I feared as much,” said Rusty beckoning Oliver to go to the bar. “You wouldn’t come back looking so rough if you were inviting us to the wedding.”

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Dark Robbie flinched at the words and glanced around furtively.  He seemed to be sniffing the air. Rusty suddenly noticed the smell of the pub: burning wood, alcohol, salt. tobacco, coal and sweat. Oliver returned with three drams of brandy and set them down on the table in front of Dark Robbie. The glasses glowed like three gold lamps with the firelight shining through them.

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“Robbie’s come to deliver a message from Lady Mary,” Rusty said to Oliver.

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“You don’t say,” said Oliver sitting down, picking up his pipe and feeling in his pocket for his tobacco pouch. “What is it, if I might ask? I rather fancied that maid of hers.” he winked.

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Dark Robbie shivered and held his hands before his face, examining them. What is wrong with him? Rusty wondered. Everything felt weird and strange tonight.

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“Did you see the moon tonight?” Dark Robbie asked.

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Rusty frowned and looked at Oliver and Oliver shrugged and look back.

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“It’s been raining the last few nights in case you haven’t noticed,” said Oliver.

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“But you know,” said Rusty. “That when the moon is full, the sky is always clear. Planning a trip by night are you, Robbie?”

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“Yes,” said Dark Robbie. “I must return to Crawford Priory. Its part of the…prize!”

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The two friends leaned back in their chairs simultaneously, and drank their brandy, waiting for more information. Oliver emptied his glass and stood up.

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“I’ll take your order, Sir,” he said winking at Rusty. “And yours, Dark Robbie.”

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Rusty watched Oliver go to the bar, and then turned back to the fire with a churning feeling in his gut.

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The door opened and shut, banging hard against the wall and letting in the smell of damp air and puddles and dirty pavement. Dark Robbie’s face went suddenly white as he stared at whoever had come inside. Rusty spun around in his chair to look. The door was open upon the night, and the black rectangle of the open door seemed to waver and ripple. He thought he saw an old man in a long black coat with a mane of silver hair,  but then it was just a sooty kind of light superimposed over the doorway. Something crawled up Rusty’s spine.

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He turned to speak to Dark Robbie and ask him what he saw, but in that moment, he heard scrabbling sounds. Something like a large dog leapt past him and Dark Robbie’s chair was empty.

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“What?” Rusty cried looking back at the door. There was Dark Robbie tipping his hat to him and disappearing into the night.

The moon was bright above the turrets of Edinburgh Castle. The smell of the pavement, the damp, and the cold night air were all he could think of as he followed the old man down the winding back alleys of the city.

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A coach was waiting for them, a black coach drawn by a white mare that gleamed in the moonlight like an apparition, and another horse so black it was almost invisible in the darkness. On the Driver’s box was a tall, gaunt figure with slant green eyes, that smiled down at them sly and wicked, and rubbing his hairy hands together like a miser before a pile of gold.

The End

Top photo: Simon Marsden : www.simonmarsden.co.uk