Cursed to Love: The Golden Curse

Chapter Five: A Long Walk Home

‘A vision of the future cannot be changed. All you can alter, is what the image means.’- Words of the Seer

Squire Timothy approached Mr. Grummold. The shopkeeper was ridiculously supercilious and it was clear he wanted to do whatever he could to ingratiate himself to the noble family. The Squire had noticed the man repeatedly attempting to cozy up to his elder son. Now was his chance to do the lovely girl a favor, and to flatter a disgruntled townsman. If he spoke to this man, whatever he said was sure to be spread around.

“My dear Sir, can you tell me where the Queen of Faire lives? I wish to send her a gift, and I do not wish to seem improper by asking a young lady for her address.” He asked the shop keeper with a humble flourish. Mr. Grummold looked confused.

“Surely your Lordship knows where to find the young lady in question?” He said with an arch raise of the eyebrow, implying much with the little gesture. The Squire shook his head.

“I’ve never met the disarming creature before tonight. I’ll have to admit that she seems to have a curious effect on men though. Makes us do quite out of character things!” Squire Timothy said innocently, not realizing the giant error his words were. Mr. Grummold nodded in agreement, he rested his hands on his paunch with linked thumbs.

“Is that so? Well, I can tell you that she lives in the old carpenter’s cottage at the edge of the wood. She lives with her grandmother, as her parents are dead these past 12 years.” Mr. Grummold answered him. He adjusted his own wolf skin wrap, perhaps the Lord would know what it signified?

“She is the unfortunate daughter of the former carpenter and his wife? Odd match that one, older man, pretty young wife…but he was a goodly man, noble profession and all that. It was quite an unusual tragedy.” The Squire said thoughtfully. Mr. Grummold was surprised. Lord Gravely made all this sound as though it truly were the first time he had heard of it. Was it possible the girl was not unchaste? Perhaps he should not have had that conversation with the younger squire… He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was making preparations to leave. He regarded her as a hungry man might regard a loaf of crusty bread that he longed to rip into, tearing it into pieces and eating it with his hands.

“She is. You really did not know?” Mr. Grummold asked still suspicious. The Squire shook his head.

“This is our first meeting. I assumed she lived somewhere in town. Such a lovely girl should not live in the woods! Has she no fiancé? No betrothed? I don’t even know her name, but even I can see that she must have a man!” Lord Gravely asked. Mr. Grummold inhaled in surprise. So it was true! He leaned in toward the Lord as though conferring a secret.

“She was supposed to marry my son, but if you have the prior claim…” He intimated…still testing. The Lord shook his head.

“No no…no claim. No claim other than that of a foolish old man taking too many dances with a pretty young girl at a party.” He said attempting to repair the damage he had caused. A gleam so momentarily gone from Mr. Grummold’s eyes returned full force as he watched Gilda leave the party with her bouquet of white flowers. He could just picture them crushed, little ivory petals bruised and broken, all over the road in the dark woods.

Freyr watched Gilda leave town on the small road that became more of a narrow walking path as it wound deeper into the woods. Soon she would be utterly encased in darkness. Three men broke off from the crowd to follow her.

“C’mon. She’s the Squire’s w***e and he doesn’t even want her anymore…it’s not as if we’d be doing any real harm!” One of the rough looking men said to a smoother more dapper looking type.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should just let her go.” The dapper one sounded unsure.

“Let her go? Little woodland slut thinks she’s too good to have a village man as her King? She takes the fun out of the whole faire, we don’t even get to dance one sodding reel, and you think we should just let her go?” The third man said in an angry, alcohol infused voice.

“But, if she is the Squire’s woman…” The more genteel man objected again. The first man laughed.

“Can’t steal a penny that’s already been spent! Stop wasting time, she’ll get away.” He said, his eyes shining from too much drink.

“Turns down every man to cross her path like butter won’t melt in her sainted mouth, and it turns out she’s as loose as a sow’s bladder.” The second man added, he was becoming more enthusiastic. The men grumbled to themselves a moment before nodding and heading off to the woods a length or two behind Gilda. She wouldn’t even know they were following her.

Freyr sighed deeply. There was nothing he ought to do… Nothing he could really. Whatever would happen would happen. He would just have to live with himself.

Gilda walked lantern-less through the dark wood toward her house. She was guided by the light of a very clear, very bright full moon. She kept thinking she heard rustling behind her, but that could very well just be her phantom, which by now she didn’t really fear. If it wanted to eat her, it sure was taking its sweet time doing so. The little path had just ended, and she was now walking on the narrow track that only hers and Gran’s feet had made. Gilda gasped in surprise as something very large dropped out of a tree behind her with a loud thudding noise. She spun around expecting to see a bear or wildcat or something.

“You!” She said in surprise. It was the dark man – Mr. Vanhelstad. “You frightened me!” Gilda said, not entirely sure she should not be frightened. A man who had apparently been stalking her from the tree canopy had just dropped onto the path behind her. Nighttime tree climbing was not a particularly normal thing for a man to do.

“Me? Frighten you? Why?” He asked as he came to walk beside her. He had a long, casual stride that for no particular reason, infuriated her.

“Because!” She said feeling irritated that he didn’t realize that men shouldn’t drop out of trees next to unsuspecting women… “Because! Men who dress like you and only come out after sundown are rarely up to any good.” He laughed loudly.

“My appearance frightens you?” He asked looking into her eyes intently as he linked arms with her in order to guide her closer to the center of the path, away from the tree line. He smiled to himself, she had many other, better reasons to pick to be afraid of him. It was somewhat amusing.

She pulled her arm free of his. She didn’t like him to escort her arm in arm. It was disconcerting given the extreme lack of formality in their current circumstance, and far too intimate. As far as his question… well, his appearance didn’t really frighten her. His eyes were darker than most brown eyes, and his hair was nearly black. His nose was thin and hawk-like, but somehow all of this just made him look exotic and very attractive. More than that though…he had an air of nobility. He was clean, had all his teeth, and spoke eloquently. None of it matched his station in life.

“No. Not really. You just…you dropped in rather suddenly. How can I be sure that you don’t mean to harm me?” She resented his attempts to guide her. He growled strangely in his throat, and pulled her to the center of the track again, away from the rustling trees along the side. He grabbed a long branch from one of the overhead trees, and casually broke it off, using it as a sort of walking staff. He was absurdly tall, reaching the overhead branch and breaking it as easily as if it were a twig. Gilda swallowed.

“Did I not save you from a terrible run in just last week? Why should I care for your welfare then, and intend to harm you now? You are not the most logical woman.” He said offensively. Gilda looked at him with irate eyes that looked cat-like and yellow instead of their usual melting amber. Rather of being taken aback he just smiled. Even more frustratingly, he was quite handsome when he smiled. His long dark hair framed his angular cheeks well, and he had surprisingly excellent teeth.

“Alright, so you do not mean to harm me. That is a relief…never had anyone pounce at me out of a tree before, so you will have to excuse my suspicious nature.” She said bracingly. He chuckled again. “But why are you walking with me? It cannot possibly be on your way home. No one lives out this way aside from me and Gran.” She demanded, realizing that she was being rude. He sighed, and using only his fingertips on her shoulders, moved her position again, this time to the other side of him. He kept his new, very large walking stick on the side she had been on prior to his action.

“You needed an escort. And I do live this direction. Your house is on my way home.” Damn. He should not have told her that. He was desperately trying to keep her out of reach of the men stalking them from in the brush, and he had gotten distracted and told her something he shouldn’t have. His preoccupation with gauging their position, all while keeping her in the dark about their existence, had allowed him to lose focus. He was rather concerned that the men might think three on two was decent odds and decide to attack them. He could handle all three men easily, but it would be hard to explain. Not to mention what he was going to do with three bodies…and that three inexplicable murders near her house would do nothing to help the girl’s tenuous reputation. He supposed he didn’t have to kill them during the skirmish, but it would be hard not to do so, even accidentally.

“An escort? I do not! I walk this path all the time and have never been accosted in any way.” Gilda said irritably. He laughed.

“The other times when you walked home alone in the dark, had you just made an enemy of every man in town? The spectacle of you and the Squire changes your circumstances a bit.” He stated calmly. Gilda didn’t enjoy his matter of fact tone. It was worse than mocking her. She sighed.

“No. But none of that was my fault…if they are irritated with anyone it should be that popinjay of a Squire.” He laughed.

“True enough! But you will concede that the Squire has a carriage, several servants, as well as four adult children to see him home. You have one over-sized foreigner. Clearly my escort is not an overage of any kind. Nor, given my address, is it out of my way.” He stated. How was she pulling all this information out of him just by being disagreeable? Gilda shook her head.

“No one lives out this way. I rather think you are making up a false address as an excuse.” She said, still feeling rather suspicious. He laughed again.

“An excuse? An excuse to purloin the pleasure of your company by means of deceit? You think that your company is so desirable that I wish to walk several miles out of my way, in the dark, on a rather chilly evening, in exchange for a few moments of your disgruntled time?” He asked. His sarcastic tone made her blood boil. It was not the way she was used to having men speak to her.

“Very well. But what is it you think you are protecting me from?” She asked. He couldn’t possibly know about the phantom, and she could see no one following her home.

“You honestly don’t even see the danger do you? Miss Gilda-lily to whom no harm could ever come…because you’re what? To pretty to be harmed?” He asked putting his arm firmly around her shoulders and changing her position once again. He kept her tightly against his body as he maneuvered her. Somehow the gesture stuck her as familiar, in a way that both excited and angered her.

“Stop moving me about! If you are going to walk with me the least you could do is be a gentleman.” Her tone was chastising. He was both an incredibly rude and very handsome man. She was distressed that she was aware of both. He shook his head and laughed again, running his fingers through his hair.

“Very well.” He said taking her hand and kissing it. “Hello Miss Lillan, I am Freyr Vanhelstad. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He gave a deep bow, such that his nose nearly brushed his knees. He was ludicrously tall. She looked at him quizzically.

“That name is unusual in this area. Freyr is Nordic while Vanhelstad is…”

“Not my full name.” He said simply. “It is not the name I was born with, but it is what I am called here.” He said without further explanation. He didn’t know why he kept giving her information! It was as if her angry little cat eyes had some strange power over him…the same way they had power over the townsfolk when they were amber and sweet. Agh. It was as if he were an ordinary man. That could never be.

“Ah. I am walking through the woods with a gigantic, barbarically clad man, with a false name, who supposedly means me no harm. My Gran will be ever so pleased.” Gilda said facetiously. She noticed then that they had reached her house. The awful man had brought her home safely. It was genuinely surprising.

“Well, Gilda-lily. This is your house. Mine is quite a bit further on. I shall bid you goodnight.” He said with another bow. Then as if hearing something in the distance, he pulled her close to him such that her chest was pressed against his torso. He looked in the direction of some rustling trees. He abruptly slackened his grasp. “Never mind. Go on in. All is well.” He said, still glaring at the inoffensive trees. He had forgotten to release her however. Gilda looked up at him expectantly.

“What?” He asked, abruptly letting her go. Gilda blushed deeply and looked at her toes.

“I thought you were going to kiss me.” She admitted, feeling rather embarrassed. He laughed loudly again.

“Kiss you? Ha! You’d probably taste of old man.” He said derisively and began to walk away. Gilda climbed the steps of her house, attempting to figure out what that horrid man had meant. Then she remembered the Squire’s awkward kiss at the beginning of the dance. That had been a lifetime ago! He would remember such a petty, stupid thing. It further occurred to her that against all reason, she had somewhat hoped he would kiss her. Even from such an infuriating man, it would have been much more the first kiss she had hoped for. A handsome man, alone, in the moonlight…not a portly older man who tasted of tobacco and sherry. This thought was shot from her head like a cannonball to the brain when she realized what he had called her.

Gilda-lily. A name only her Gran had ever called her, and only in private. It was a joke about how Gilda was vain and silly and wanted fancy things, despite being so pretty as to not need them. She was “gilding-the-lily.” It didn’t help that she was cursed with the name Gilda Lillan, so as to make the play on words that much more fitting. Had he come up with the same joke on his own? Given her name, it was rather ‘on the nose’. Or had he been secretly listening to her and her Gran? He did know which house was hers…although given that it was the only one she knew of in the woods…that wasn’t too odd. Really, he shouldn’t have known that she lived in the woods at all. She hurried into the house and barred the door with a satisfying “thud.” She heard her Gran stir in the next room and hurried to bed so as not to wake her further.

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Three men in the woods grumbled as they headed back toward town. They didn’t have the fervor to beat down a door, and harm an old woman, as well as do mischief to a younger one. They had been thwarted by a tall dark man who was some sort of familiar of the girl. He’d been all over her on their intimate walk home. The girl consorted with a tall, dark man who could jump from trees, and break branches off of them with what was clearly inhuman strength. A man who dressed in dark brown leather…so dark it that was almost black. He was inconveniently over-solicitous of the young girl they had been…watching.

They had very serious concerns…concerns that went beyond petty jealousy or anger. Oh no. This was not a case of too much drink, and a pretty girl who’d done them wrong. No. This was a very serious matter. The only problem was, that the man they would ordinarily bring such Very Serious Matters to, was similarly in the girl’s t****l.

Something was going to need to be done. The girl had no become so bold as to publically consort with the devil incarnate – the tall dark man of lore…which meant they had no choice to but to act. Unfortunately it might have to be done outside the confines of the law. The work of the righteous often had to be.

Freyr curled his long legs up to his chest and laid down on an uncomfortable pile of tanning hides in the girl’s shed. He wasn’t sleeping there to prevent the men from coming back. He just knew that he would be able to travel much faster once it was daylight. He’d be home in half an hour if he traveled during the day, whereas it would take him at least two hours if he walked during the night. Dawn was only a few hours off, and he might as well catch a bit of sleep before heading back. The shed smelled of salt and lye. It was not particularly conducive to sleep, but the girl had not intended it for that use. She’d never even know it had been. He’d awaken and be gone before the girl and her Gran were so much as stirring. He always woke before dawn.

He heard the men in the woods grumbling about the barred door and the presence of her elderly grandmother. They were giving up. The sound of their retreating footsteps coincided with his suddenly feeling very sleepy. He laid his head down on a deer pelt and fell asleep almost instantly. It was comforting to be within arm’s reach of the girl. This thought was disturbing, but not disturbing enough to keep him awake.

Gilda woke up late, as she had been out late the night before. Gran was banging pots and pans in the kitchen progressively louder and louder in what could only be an attempt to “accidentally” wake her lay-about granddaughter. Gilda swung her legs over the side of the bed and dressed hastily. She washed her face and wound up her hair quickly. Anything in order to be out in the kitchen sooner and to make the racket stop! The Squire’s attentions to her and frequent cups of the sugary punch laced heavily with wine had given her a terrible headache.

“I’m awake! You can stop that racket.” She said as she pushed her way through the door and into the kitchen. Gran turned to look at her.

“Oh, you up Gilda? Thought maybe you’d be sleepin’ late after last night.” She said coyly, as though she hadn’t intentionally woken Gilda up. Gilda groaned and flopped into a chair. To her surprise she was greeted not by porridge, but by eggs and toast.

“Where did you get these?” She asked her grandmother, biting into the gooey yolky egg on toast breakfast before it could vanish.

Her Gran set a basket onto the table with more than the necessary force. It contained eggs, a loaf of bread, a twist of salt in a brown paper wrapper, peaches, and jam. “You want to explain this?” Gran asked looking displeased.

“What is this?” Gilda asked incredulous.

“A gift!” Gran exclaimed. Now Gilda understood the desire to wake her up. Gran could not read, and there was a note on the gift. Gilda would not reward the old woman’s curiosity, which had caused her to face this headache so early.

“How nice.” She said setting it aside. “I suppose I shall have to see who sent it and respond somehow after I finish my chores! You wouldn’t want me to lolly-gag about with a letter instead of getting on with my work.” Gilda said as she finished her toast and two eggs in record time. Gran was making a huffing noise like a kettle about to boil.

“Oh stop tormenting a poor old woman and read the letter! Who walked you home last night? Anyone I know?” She demanded, working herself up into a tizzy while ringing a poor innocent dish rag in her hands. Gilda smiled and stretched as she cleared her plate and began washing it in the sink.

“I don’t think you know him. A Mr. Vanhelstad walked me home. He doesn’t seem the sort to send a gift basket though, so I have no idea who that could be from.” Gilda did have any idea. It began with meddling, old, pretentious, and ended in Squire Timothy Gravely.

“Mr. Vanhelstad walked you home? The woodsman? I mean the man with the wood cart in town?” Gran said with surprising amount of knowledge, and a tone of…hope? So that’s what he was doing in town…he sold wood! Maybe he did live in the woods after all. It mightn’t have been a lie in order to walk her home. If it hadn’t been a lie, it meant that she had accused him, falsely, of lying in order to spend time with her. Oh dear. She must have sounded extraordinarily vain. Oh well, it was just as well, he was incredibly rude…although he hadn’t spoken to her as though she were the Squire’s cast off woman…which had been a nice change for the evening.

“He’s a woodsman? I had no idea. He offered, and seemed nice enough, so I accepted.” Gilda grabbed the now empty water bucket by the sink. “Seems I used up all the water cleaning my dish. I should probably head to the well and refill it.” She said casually, as though she had forgotten the letter. Gran stepped in front of the door.

“Gilda, don’t make a curious old woman beg. Open the letter – won’t you?” She pleaded with her watery blue eyes. “Whoever left it was so mysterious! They didn’t even knock, just left it on the step and were gone before I got to the door!” Gilda sighed loudly as though it were a great imposition to read it, but she was borderline interested herself as to what the note might say. She was putting it off because she knew it wasn’t going to be a surprise and that it could only be bad news.

“Very well.” She said as she opened the little letter. It was written in an elegant, gentlemanly hand. Gran’s face fell. It was the handwriting of a nobleman and there was no mistaking it. Gilda knew there was no point in pretending the note was from anyone else.

“My Dear Miss Lillan,

I know that writing to you after so short an acquaintance is terribly impertinent. I fear you have me in your t****l however, as I could not stop myself. I hope you will forgive me for breaking so many modes of etiquette.

I could not so much as try to convey my pleasure in meeting you last night. I no sooner arrived home than I felt compelled to send my messenger round to bring you a surprise breakfast. I hope it finds you well, and that I did not ply you with too much of the punch at the faire. My apologies if my gift finds you in poor health as a consequence.

I do however realize, and wish to make amends for the inconvenience my attentions may have caused you. If you would be so good as to visit me for tea tomorrow afternoon, I will propose a solution that I think will suit you quite well. You must forgive my continued impropriety in requesting your presence in person. My personal coach and driver will be sent for you tomorrow just past noon.

Yours Ever Faithfully,

Lord Gravely

Gilda finished aloud and set the note on the table. Her Gran was not going to be pleased. Gran sank into the little rocking chair by the stove.

“Oh Gilda. What’ve you done?” She asked with her head in her hands. She looked so disappointed. “This ain’t what I raised you for!” She said with a shake of her head. Gilda threw the letter into the fire.

“I won’t go.” She said quietly. Gran sighed.

“Ain’t got no choice do ye? He knows where we live. He’d have every right to just come here’in fetch ye if it entered his head to do so.” She said truthfully. Gilda sat down across from her Gran. “Ain’t no chance of getting that nice woodsman to marry ye if he thinks you’ve been courted by the Squire.” Gilda c****d her head to the side.

“The woodsman? I thought you wanted me to marry a merchant’s son! Live in town! You think I should set my sights as low a woodsman?” She was almost insulted. Gran rocked in the little chair.

“I think we both know you lost your chances at one of the merchant’s sons when you danced with the Squire at the faire.” She said with no emotion.

“Gran! I had no choice in that!” Gilda said with some anger.

“No choice? Who decided to dress up like a peacock? Who went into debt to purchase a dress made for a noblewoman? Who’s been setting her cap for a titled man since she was thirteen? No choice? Gilda…don’t pretend.” Gran’s voice was terse and disappointed. Gilda hissed, seething in anger. So she should paint her face in dirt and wear rags to avoid being noticed? Then it wouldn’t be her fault if a selfish man behaved inappropriately?

“The woodsman doesn’t like me Gran. He walked me home because he lives in the woods. He was worried that I needed an escort, after I angered so many townspeople. There was no chance of his courting me even if I hadn’t made a spectacle of myself.” Gilda said. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you.” Gilda got up from the table and took the water bucket to the well. She was too angry to speak with her Gran further. She would only say things that she would regret later. She swung the water bucket onto the stone steps with a loud ‘crash’ and left it outside the door. She hurried off into the woods.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Gilda screamed beating her fists on a defenseless tree. “That stupid stupid man! All the privileges of a Lord, and the social awareness of an infant!” This was ridiculously unfair. Her appearance was going to get her shunned or killed, either for being a cast off woman, or for being a witch. She heard the familiar rustle, just out of sight in the woods. Ah. So that’s how it would end after all. Rain began to fall like some sort of chilling judgement from the sky.

“Oh stop pretending you aren’t there! Just come out and face me!” The phantom ceased rustling and was quiet.

“Oh I know, I know. I’m not supposed to see you – I’m not even supposed to know you are there! But I do know.” She balled her hands into fists. “Well? At least offer an opinion!” She whirled around in a circle, her wet hair whipping around her face.

“You think it’s my fault do you? You think I’m vain and selfish and set my sights on marrying a rich man so it’s my fault eh?” She shouted at her phantom. “Tell me Phantom…you watch me enough to know what I am! Tell me what goal I should have aspired to? Me. A poor orphan female. What lofty, creative, intelligent goals could I have for my life?” She demanded, throwing a rock in the direction the rustling had last come from…before considering that hurling rocks toward what she knew to be some sort of wild animal, might not improve anyone’s opinion of her intelligence. Nor, if the animal was undecided about killing her, would a small stone thrown its way be discouraging.

“The best thing I could hope for in my life was a rich husband. The clothes, the walk, the reading, the poetry, the history…it’s all been to achieve a vain and silly goal…but what better option did I have? My crimes are more of too much imagination and too much optimism.” Gilda sighed and sat down against a tree. “I suppose becoming an old man’s mistress is about what I deserve for my foolishness isn’t it?” She chuckled ruefully,

“Unless you think that becoming your dinner is my best option… And since my life has all gone to ruin, you really may as well.” She said bitterly as the rain dripped more insistently down on her. Then, in spite of itself, the raspy chuckling noise happened again. She didn’t have time to dwell on the now scarcely frightening sound, as she was surprised by the sight of someone on the opposite side of the clearing moving through the trees. Not the phantom. A man, a flesh and blood man had been watching her shout at the air and kick trees. He was now hurrying back toward town through the underbrush. Well…that was not good. It certainly didn’t improve her tenuous situation with the townspeople. They were a small village in the middle of nowhere, where nothing ever happened. The story would be all over town by sundown.

Gilda stood up and went to check her traps. She really did have chores to do, and she had to get them done in time to get most of tomorrow’s done too. With the townspeople thinking she was