The Lost Bride.

Overture: Verse one

            It was autumn. Leaves were dying from lack of sunlight, one by one, they fell from their mother’s branches, down onto the cold earth amongst their brothers and sisters. During spring and summer, they were vividly coloured – green, orange, red. Now, however, they were decaying. Surrounded by them, Katherine was proposed to.

“Will you marry me?” were the predictable, yet beautiful words uttered from his lips that trembled from nervousness. Their corners were lifted to form a smile, as the addressee of the proposal brightened up and nodded enthusiastically:

“Yes” They fell into a close embrace. Her finger was given a ring.

It seems like yesterday, though months have passed since. The leaves have turned pale, like one does before dying. The sun shines for fewer hours and her rays are no longer as luminous as during summer and spring. The landscape is dark, a veil of gloomy clouds roam around these lands of meadows and lakes that now, as it is winter, are camouflaged by a sea of solidified mass of white snowflakes. The garden gate, under which the marriage was verbally conceived, has a layer not of rose, but ice buds and the cold paired with the metal together form an indistinct thorn.

“Yes” echo amid the woods and the garden that commences with the holy gate. Laughter rustles between the empty branches of trees. The thorn of metal and the cruel icy climate shines vividly in the moonlight. The Lune stares down upon the wonderland, in which a creature in white hides. The sudden disappearance of a single cloud reveals it – the Lune gasps at the sight of: a lost bride.

Verse two

            The body of the maid is of young flesh and bones. The cold makes her skin alabaster, yet dead she is not. She is asleep, though not for long. The Lune sends her messengers, the nightingales, to chipper the song of awakening. Though distant from their nocturnal nature, they succeed – the beauty arises! The birds are joyous and the Lune equally as merry, but sadly, the eyes of the beauty lacks memory, as she looks around herself in utter confusion.

            “Where is this that I am?” she demands quietly, finding nothing around her familiar. With a growing number of such questions created in her mind, she began feeling with her body too; only a white, slightly dirtied dress she was wearing, clips were still entangled to her now deranged hair and a ring glittered on her finger. A ring? Then she realised she has no memory of anything to her connected. This knowledge burned her thoughts, she feels as lonely and lost as a seagull in a wheat field. She pulls her knees towards her body in an enclosed position, weeping silently as the wind that played with the embroidered layers of her dress. After a while, she lifts her hand and with the fingers she wipes off the droplets of sadness and confusion from her cheek. The ring in this process slid off her fingers onto her lap. She reached for it and noticed an engraved name on its inside:

            “Edward” she read. A flicker of hope blinked through her brown eyes and a decision was made. She arbitrated to find her absent husband. She yelped in absolute dismay: “But how, how, with this world so wide?” looking at the white spacious meadows around her. Not all hope is lost! At the end of the garden where she had awoken from unreasoned slumber was the shape of a small cottage house. She stood up and began her way towards it.

Verse three 

            As she approached the cottage, she realised it was a partial ruin. A fire, a storm might have destroyed it. Only the walls stood, the roof was destabilised, asymmetrical. She entered the house; broken pieces of porcelain plates and glasses were scattered everywhere, furniture and shelves were broken… it looked as if beasts raged here. Katherine fell on the floor whence she began weeping again from hopelessness. Cold bitter wind chilled her exposed body, flowing through cracks in the still-standing walls and half-broken windows. After a while of tear dropping, she looked around at the chaos, spotting a newspaper that she began examining.

            “17^th December, 1843” she read to herself. She skims through the articles- Charles Dickens’s Christmas Carol is published; six thousand copies are sold throughout the nation. Amsterdam-Utrecht railways continue to run successfully. Robert Schumann’s opera “Das Paradies und die Peri“ receives standing ovation in Leipzig, yet its English production withstands zero praise. She lists to the final pages. A half-solved crossword with scribbles at margin and the like disinterests her. Finally, she reaches the last page with advertisements. Soaps, tobacco, tea…

            “A fortune teller?” she exclaims, noticing a caricature of a woman whose face is disproportionate behind a looking glass. She looks around herself: “I cannot stay here, nothing can help me find my way back to Edward. Except her, perhaps?” She read again: TRISHA LONGSIGHT. Come to me and my looking glass will foretell your future. Find us in Coal Street, East London. Katherine shivered at the sight of the gipsy’s wide eyes and black moles on chin, yet she decided to go see her, no matter how far away London is. She will find her and find out how things are and were! Taking a few older biscuits from the kitchen and a shawl from the floor, she departed the ruin into the cold. 

Verse four

            Fate decided not to stress her, as she soon reached the road that led her to a nameless village. There, she found a transport office and found a carriage departs to London every two hours, the next one leaving in an hour.

            “How you’re payin’, missus?” the man in uniform asked, studying her from head to toe, clearly wondering about her latest round-about’s, as her smell was not exactly comely and her appearance either, though her face was jolly… She realised she reached a dead end.

            “What are the possible options?” she demanded, the employee winced, then began naming the following as he lifted fingers in counting:

            “Two quid and no less, a quid and piece of gold, 50p and two pieces of gold…” Katherine’s face wrinkled with despair: she has to go to London! The man saw her growing anxiousness. “Quite eager to leave, aren’t yah? How’bout we make the follerwing arrangement: yah show me whatcha got that’s pricey and I give you ticket though it’s against the official rules. But by lookin’ atcha I cannot make you stay, yer face too pretty to let frown”. Katherine smiled and immediately began searching around her for anything valuable. Gradually, the ticket counter was filling up with pearl earrings, a golden bracelet, her newly-found shawl, silver hair clips, dirtied lace veil… The man stopped her.

            “By this rate missus you’d be in the robe of Evelyn soon”, he chuckled. “I guess I can manage to grant you a place in the next carriage”. Katherine was so overwhelmed; she smiled to the dimples, yet halted her sudden impulse to embrace the ticket seller. He gave her the ticket, took the jewellery, yet pushed the shawl towards her. “Keep it, heard it’s chilly in the big city”. She thanked him and waited outside for the carriage that arrived a while later. Sitting down, she felt a sense of triumph and assurance that her story will have a happy ending. Holding the fortune teller’s advertisement she tore from the newspaper in her pocket, she smiled.

Verse five

            Katherine arrived in London nearly three hours later. She fell asleep a few times, though her dreams were heavily affected by the speed of horses’ gallop and from the increase of excited chattering of the other travellers that included two elderly ladies, gentlemen and a small child who called her the “smelly lady in white” she sensed the city is near. It was evening and the bright lights were astounding to Katherine who had no memory of such a beautiful sight. It amazed as well as frightened her, as she had no clue if she were to reach her goal in that huge space.

            She was last to descend the carriage, yet the first to disappear into the crowd of night-time London. Pressing the advertisement onto the window of the London Bridge office, Katherine heard from the first narrow-eyed, then passively saying guard men: “Coal street?” “Yeah, up in Soho, that is.” “Yeh, so milady, turn left and continue straight ‘til yer reach Covent Garden and then turn right”. She thanked him, though they missed out the main information: the journey takes an hour on foot and Katherine, still wearing wedding slippers, not only received an unusual amount of attention but also contempt that however decreased as she neared Soho. She noticed this and wondered why?

Verse five

            Soho is the sinful part of London where prostitutes’ sensual poses fill the streets, the hazy smoke of opium invite passer-by’s into smoking saloons like cafés do in Paris and puke and piss of drunkards and unhappy rich men overflow the stone tiles like rivers at the beginning of Spring. Katherine felt uncomfortable from the ever-present smell of lust and pleasure lurking from the clothes and rooms around her and began wondering if she is lost. Trying to avoid contact with the locals (the filth! The sins!), she stopped by a male figure that from behind looked proper, wearing a black suit in a street where red and yellow illuminated all. She tapped at his shoulder and gasped from surprise to see the man’s face was filled with bruises and scars from fights.

            “C-coal street, please?” She stuttered after a while of staring at his ruined face. The man glared at her in annoyance and pointed his thumb behind him. She nodded in gratification and left the chaos into an empty street until she truly saw the sign of her desired destination. Looking from left to right, she noticed a “Fortune Teller” wooden board and headed towards it, pushing herself through the population. She reached the board and before she entered the shop, she breathed in, knowing things will be different when she goes out again.

Verse six

            The collision between the door and bells created a high-pitched sound that informed the gypsy of her customer’s presence. She was standing back to Katherine in a long black shawl and dress - pouring boiling water from a kettle into a teacup - against an equally dark papered wall. After turning around, she cryptically began:

            “What brings a bride to me? It is said to bring bad luck to all marriages when the Future is pre-known” She sat down at her small circular wooden table, holding her teacup in both hands. After a sip, she demanded: “Yet I feel you not to be a bride, though dressed thou art like one. Into your mind I see not, tell me of your desire with me”. Katherine looked at her.

            “The future I am not interested that much. It is the past.” The gypsy winced with her head, listening, but continued to drink her beverage. Katherine told of her awakening, the ruined cottage and her journey to see her. “I want to know my past in order to create a future.” She gulped. “Can you help me?” The gypsy sipped once more, placing the half-empty cup on the table and began caressing the globular object beneath a dark blue satin cloth with her tattooed hands. She looked Katherine directly into the eyes, first time to do so. Simply, she replied:

            “Yes.” Katherine breathed out in relief. “But you must understand that your wish is against my normal procedures: a fine reward I must be given in return.”

            “You can have anything I have!” Katherine exclaimed in mere gratitude. The gypsy smiled.

“The price for my service we shall arrange later. Sit and let’s begin”

Verse seven

            The gypsy asked for and held Katherine’s hands, creating a circle around the exposed globe. Surrounding lighted candles emphasised the fortune teller’s sharp and imperfect facial features that Katherine attentively studied. Trisha breathed calmly with shut eyes, until they opened and the faint sound of melting wax was muted.

            “I feel from your hands you come from a financially wealthy family – there is no work in your past, though I sense paper cuts from too vicious reading… Your spirit is joyful, merry, filled with love for a certain man, with whom marriage could not be conceived due to a tragedy… I vision fire. Yes, flames. This man could not make the ceremony due to the Great Fire – and you, your poor subtle soul viewed this as a sign of fictitious affection and from sorrow your body fell into long slumber. Connection was lost, you went to grieve your lost happiness outside, between the greens, where you awoke among the whites of winter. Yes, the blood in your veins did not flow for a while. Your body slept through the tempests and change of season, your home was ruined while Nature and her servants, the elements, spared your visual beauty. Yes. The man searched for you, yet failed to find you in nature and left with sorrow in his heart and an apology he still wishes to make and a promise he desires to fulfil.” She paused. “The future, I fail to see. With each customer I am able to either discuss only one time span, yours was the past, hence I cannot help you further.” The gypsy let go of Katherine’s hands and looked straight into her eyes as she said: “Your story is a strange one, yet I did all I could to help you solve your situation. My dear,” she enveloped Katherine’s hand with the ring with both of her hands kindly, “all I can do to help is say: follow your mind. Follow lines like fish follow the flow of streams. Only that way you can make up for what seems long lost”

            Katherine looked at the gypsy, whose eyes seemed no longer vile but human. She smiled and asked:

            “What do I owe you for your services?” The gypsy waved her hand.

            “A lost past is a heavy loss and a burden I cannot wish even to those who did me wrong. I wish you all success in your search. Good luck, child”

Verse eight

            Katherine’s prediction was correct; she felt different when she left the gipsy’s lair. Enlightened, at same time confused: Follow lines like fish follow the flow of streams? One would shake his head, think “what nonsense!” and the world would continue to turn, but this was the only aid Katherine had available in her quest. She walked back to the river, holding the shawl close to her, as the winds of Thames were cold and bitter, as there was little snow present. She watched the short lines of houses alongside the border of the historical river, lost in her thoughts, until they burst due to the loud bang of the London Tower.

            Midnight.

She knew nothing could be done for now, hence she entered the first lodge she found and for a third class bed gave her fine stockings that's absence made her freeze in the night, yet were valuable enough to give her the comfort of a bed. With the first morning sun beams she awoke and with a small bun to fill her grumpy stomach departed the lodge. She took a public transport carriage, paying with a penny she found lying on the street, letting it take her as far as it could. She reached Hampstead.

Verse nine

The Victorian brick houses lined up neatly along a park that she decided to walk through. Families with children, entertained by good exercise and an occasional evacuation run of squirrels and hares, passed her, a figure in white in a time when black and little of figure shown was the fashion. In the distance she saw a beautiful chapel and along it a black line of mourners that stood out from the white landscape.

“I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green.“ Katherine thought to herself. Then, she continued to recite what has been long long in her mind, with pauses, yet well articulated: “And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds, And binding with briars, my joys & desires.” She winced in surprise. “William Blake! Garden of Love! I remembered!” She was beyond herself with joy. She ran back to the line of Victorian houses, down to the centre… it was as if some superior force took control of her body, leading her somewhere she did not know.

Memory? She knew this not yet! She rushed, hardly breathing, until she reached a picturesque house. Panting, she complimented its appearance. Couples passed her by, shaking their heads in bemusement, as emotions (even not being fit) were in fashion to be hidden. She ignored these reactions, yet blushed, focusing her attention at that maison.

Verse ten

            She stared at the house, hearing a nearing pair of footsteps that suddenly stopped and then reached her. A young voice came through her thoughts suddenly:

            “K-Katherine?” The lost bride turned to face a pretty young lady in a long black coat from beneath which a floor-long purple dress was showing. Katherine nodded, though she could not recall the identity of the addressor? The lady suddenly smiled. “Katherine! Oh, it’s me! Meredith! Why are you looking at me like if you don’t remember me?” She laughed, a sound piercing to Katherine’s sleeping ears. “Oh, dear! You must come with me, I am just on my way home for luncheon.”

            “H… home?” Katherine got out of herself, her shock was evident. Meredith shook her head in amazement.

            “Yes! Your home too, of course. Come, come with me! Oh dear me, you must be freezing! Oh, what chance to find you, after so long! My folks will be so glad to see you.” The maid took Katherine by the arm and led the way to their destination.

Verse eleven

            Katherine found herself in a beautiful mansion that from the outside was covered in ivy and inside had a beautiful marble staircase. A servant took Meredith’s coat and departed straight afterwards, not knowing what to take from Katherine, which Katherine appreciated… Meredith took her hand and led her into the tea room. Her parents were enjoying tea and a newspaper or letter when Meredith cried:

            “Look who I met, just by Keats Grove!” The parents looked up and fell in awe. Katherine knew not how to behave, so she smiled, though awkwardly. She just greeted them, embarrassed deeply for her inappropriate gown that was in an unacceptable state. The mother stood and welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek:

            “Kitty! Where have you been all this time?” Katherine took it as a rhetorical question, as explaining her where-about’s seemed rather too extended a matter as well as would contribute to the absurdity of the whole situation… and it seemed to be meant that way, as the mother continued: “Edward is at Leeds at the moment, he is coming back tomorrow.” Katherine’s eyes flickered.

            “Edward?” she asked and repeated, slowly, concentrating on the movement of the tongue inside her mouth. The mother seemed shocked.

            “Yes, Edward…” she looked back at her husband, who watched the women - standing in a triangle - in pure amusement. “Meredith? Take Kitty to the visitors’ room. Before you do, tell Lydia to get a bath ready.” Obediently, the maids departed.

Verse twelve

            After a bath, Katherine was clothed into a dress that fit her perfectly, it could have been hers! Of this Meredith informed her moments later.

            “You have been living here for a while, before you moved into that cottage in the countryside. This dress you left behind for “worse times”, as you called it.” Seeing Katherine’s amazed face, she asked: “Why have you disappeared the way you did? I love you dearly and I grieved the marriage being cancelled. Kitty,” she took her hand confidingly as she knelt in front of Katherine, “What has happened? We are close friends, I do notice when you’re not yourself, which you truly are not, I dare say and mama agrees with me. Tell, Kitty, do tell!” She looked deeply at Katherine, who, even without any memory of this elegant creature, felt moved by her fervid loyalty. So she told her all, with Meredith listening attentively about the awakening, the journey to the fortune teller, all to the sudden flashes of memory before their reunion.

            “Oh dear, dear Kitty!” Was her reaction after the recollection was finished. “There is no space nor time for pity, though you must tell me: do you have any memory of Edward? At all?”

            “No,” Katherine vaguely answered. “Nothing, but this ring.” Meredith seemed displeased.

            “Long story put short: you were the most beautiful spouses to be in the society! You loved each other dearly, and that was for all to see – all talk was about you, Fate seemed to be smiling at you ever since you have met and you and I became loyal companions through the two-year long process before Edward gathered enough courage to ask for your hand. Oh!” She clasped her hands in pure adoration of the topic and memory. “The engagement party was such an event! The whole time I was thinking to myself: I want to find such a match for myself as Edward is for you! Everything was so perfect, until the fire, that is.” Katherine looked at her questioningly. “The fire, you must know! Oh, darling you don’t, do you? I am sorry to be the one to inform you, but your parents have died in the fire. They breathed in too much smoke.”

            Katherine, feeling the burden of loss, though of faceless beings, began weeping. Meredith immediately got to her grieving friend. “It was the night before your wedding – Edward immediately went to your residence here in London, trying to save your parents, but the servants fled (how selfish!) and your parents were older people already, it was a miracle Edward got out of there alive… A hero by soul! He dragged out first your mother, then father, but they were both dead by then. They are buried here, in Hampstead.” She paused. “Maybe it’s a bit too much information for now, isn’t it? You should get some rest, I’ll come and wake you up for tea, alright? Kitty? Darling?” Katherine could not make a response, so Meredith kissed her on the cheek as she left her sitting on the bed.

Verse thirteen

            Katherine slept like a log until Meredith truly came and woke her up for tea. She felt a bit drowsy, though after descending the stairs to the tea room she had the sense of being full of energy. Her past parents-in-law (and only possible parents now, she realised, remembering her parents’ deaths) were slowly dipping their biscuits into black tea when she entered the room, where she and Meredith were told to sit.

            “Did you sleep well?” The mother asked.

            “Yes, yes, thank you” replied Katherine, taking a filled-up cup of black tea that was offered to her, shaking her head to the father’s enquiry “milk?”

            “Meanwhile when you were asleep I sent an express note to Leeds, informing Edward of your presence.” The mother continued in a typical high-class prudish monotone. A servant came into the room with a silver plate, from which Mrs. Spencer took a note in an envelope and opened. She read it for herself and matter-of-fact informed the others of its content: “Edward will take the first train to London after he finishes at work. We can expect him in the evening.” Meredith clapped several times with delight, Katherine felt slight unease; what if, despite the family’s efforts, she will not like Edward as a wife-to-be should? What if he does not like her while affection will be filling up her heart?

            Pure excitement and fear also flowed through Katherine’s blood for the next few hours. Meredith felt this instability of mind; she insisted on showing her around the house, what has changed, what is the same, taking on knitting, taking a short personal break to write a letter though the whole while her companion seemed rather absent-minded and distressed. In mid of her inner monologue, demanding herself the same questions repeatedly, the doorbell rang. Katherine was in the guest room upstairs, she stood up immediately and stood by the staircase, listening to the words of welcome of the family. After a while of silence, a yet unheard voice came through:

            “Where is she?” Most probably they nudged “upstairs”, as heavier steps were heard to be climbing the staircase, making Katherine completely deranged on what to do. Should she hide in the guest room? Stay there and casually greet him?

“Oh, hide! But I have to face him sooner or later anyways, don’t be silly!” She continued to stand on the very spot when he reached her.

Verse fourteen

            “Katherine?” were uttered from the lips of a young man. They stared at each other, intensely, bewildered. Flashes of memory or new impressions and emotions filled their eyes. She came to him, exploring his face with her hands while he began smiling. The sides of her mouth also began rising, he placed one of his hands over hers, resting on his cheek. Listening to each other’s breath in general silence, they embraced.Katherine’s mind was at ease, thinking: 

“I’m found”

THE END