She had seen it twice in her dreams. Such fatigue, pain, despair suddenly came over her. With which the earthen walls were saturated.
A crypt, she thought. Barely stepping on the first step, reality mixed and visions appeared. I loved him.
Oh, how I loved him. A voice sang above her ear. What made her skin tingle? She saw a very young Nancy dancing at the ball with Robert.
They looked at each other tenderly and affectionately. They seemed to be no more than 16. Then a young Nancy and an elderly man with a big mole on his cheek are married at the altar.
Obviously, the same one the book was written about. Then in the bedroom, the frightened girl is in bed, her husband looming over her like a cloud. He takes her by the arms, but she pushes him away so hard that he flies across the room and hits his head on the table, blood splattering on the parquet.
Here is a grown up Nancy in bed with her lover, Robert. Then Robert and Kelly’s wedding, in which Nancy stands by the door and whispers curses. She does not notice that her father is staring at her.
There is fear in his eyes. Then Nancy, with a big round belly, is screaming hysterically on the bed of a child about to be born. It’s a girl and a woman in a big white.
Apron takes the baby girl. Nancy begs to keep her, but her father locks her in the room. Then comes a vision that Nancy is already familiar with.
The father locks his unhappy daughter in a dark hole underground. She’s thrashing around in there, crying, wiggling her hands across the stone floor and walls. Suddenly a stone breaks away from the wall and earth, falls into her hands.
Then a wicked, unnatural laugh. She whispers incantations. Then a fire.
Everything goes up in flames. Everyone in the manor dies in it. This is her revenge.
Terrible revenge for terrible cruelty. Nancy could not breathe. Now she knew everything.
Now she understood everything about the herbs, about the land, about the book that mysteriously ended up in her possession, about the curse of Stephen’s family. Robert was in danger. Still in danger.
She must save him. After all, she is Nancy’s Harris, also a witch. She knew this as firmly as she knew her name.
Now she knew her origins, her roots. It all made her head spin when Nancy came back to reality. There was a door in front of her.
It was pitch black all around. The girl had no key, of course. She reached out and rubbed her hand over the familiar image on a cast iron surface.
God, a cast iron door. How had the father feared his daughter would break out? A voice murmured over the door. Nancy fumbled over the door.
And her fingers fumbled for something cold and long, bringing the phone and flashlight close to the object. The girl discovered it was a key. I wonder who was the last person to touch it.
Prince Christopher, inserting the key into the well. To her left, the girl turned it with an effort of grave ominous coldness pelted her as the huge door swung open with a grinding clang. For a second, the girl stood there, hesitant to enter, and go a voice sang.
She listened. It was a chamber scary, dark, and icy. There was stone everywhere.
The smell of fear and death. Nancy saw it immediately. It was a small skeleton sitting near the far wall.
Tears suddenly spurted from her eyes. She felt unbearable. Pity this girl, who for two centuries could not find rest, who had suffered a horrible death here in the darkness and loneliness.
And all she wanted was happiness. Instead, she was betrayed by those closest and dearest to her. I want to go.
The figure whispered, leaning over the skeleton. She looked at Nancy, and a longing gleamed in her eyes. Bury me.
Nancy suddenly remembered why you tried to kill Robert. The curse had already done its work on him after all. The figure shook her head.
I saved him. If I hadn’t, he would have died. So you didn’t mean him any harm.
She shook her head again. Bury me. She repeated.
Nancy approached the remains. Something glittered in the flashlight’s light. There, on the stone floor of the crypt, among the white phalanges that had once been fingers, there lay a ring with emeralds.
The very gift Robert had given it. Take it. It is yours.
Nancy lifted the heavy jewel with trembling hands. Energy radiated from it. She could feel it in every fiber of her being.
But she had grown accustomed to it. She took off her windbreaker and carefully tucked the bones into it. Every last one of them.
Her face was wet with tears. No one in the world deserved to die like that. After somehow making her way out of the dungeon, Nancy squeezed her eyes shut.
The bright daylight hit her eyes. The sun hung high in the sky. How much time had she spent in the crypt? Two hours? Three? She looked around for a suitable place.
To him, take me to him, a voice sang. A figure stood nearby. Transparent.
Not material. But the expression was peaceful for the first time. Nancy knew where Robert’s ancestors were buried.
It was the old cemetery behind the church, where she had once visited. Gently clutching her burden to her chest, the girl paced toward the church. She paced and paced, feeling the presence of the ghost behind her.
At last, the ruins of the church appeared, and beyond them, an old cemetery overgrown with weeds. There were at least a hundred tombstones, and Nancy began to walk among them. Suddenly, she saw a familiar figure beside a creeping, moss-covered stone slab at the fallen fence.
It was Robert’s grave. The figure nestled against the slab and closed her eyes. Nancy could not hold back her tears again.
Finding some sort of shovel in the church, grabbing a cross from the hiding place, the girl returned to the grave. She long dug the stale earth, scratched her hands bloody with small stones before she was able to dig a small hole. Into it, she piled Nancy’s remains, along with her windbreaker.
She crossed herself briefly. She covered everything with earth and put a cross on top. The figure stood beside her the whole time.
Observing the thanks, she heard Nancy. They stood looking at each other. Two women passed and presented.
Nancy lowered her gaze to the pendant hanging around Nancy’s neck. You don’t need it. Leave it here.
The girl obeyed. She carefully removed the jewelry and placed it on the grave and covered it with earth, raising her eyes in search of Nancy. She suddenly realized she was gone.
Nancy returned to the mansion tired and exhausted. It was already getting dark. Kelly met her in the hallway with an angry look.
Where the hell did you go? They were going to call the police. I went for a walk, Nancy answered, not looking at her all day. The girl nodded affirmatively.
The last thing she wanted to do right now was talk. Are you there, sweetheart? Miranda came out of the library to meet her. She was glowing.
Good evening. Nancy said hello, squeezing out a smile. We have wonderful news.
Nancy, just great in a hurry. Jenna said, You were right. So right, Robert.
He was beginning to feel his feet. He was moving his toes today. I am infinitely glad.
Sincerely answered the girl. How is he now? He is wonderful. He has to rehabilitate, but he will be back home very soon.
But don’t worry. Your job will stay with you. It’s going to be hard for him for a while.
Aren’t you hungry? No, I’m not hungry. Thank you. Nancy barely mumbled and fell into a deep sleep when she got to her room.
Three months later, Robert was using crutches to get around. Nancy could not forget the moment when she went to see him in the hospital and showed him the ring she had found in the crypt. I had to tell a whole story from beginning to end.
Nancy, how could you go there alone? I had to for you, for everyone. Robert squeezed her hands in his and looked into her eyes. There was so much tenderness in them.
So much warmth that the girl could hardly swallow the feeling in her throat. Come, Nancy. I love you.
Be my wife. These words took Nancy back to the distant 19th century. And here she and Robert are twirling in a waltz to the lively music of the Fortress Orchestra.
Their reflection flashes in the mirrors, the ballrooms at Christopher Manor. And such peace and tranquility was in her soul at that moment. Two years passed.
In the small nursery, a nightlight was burning. The girl, weary from the events of the day, sleeping soundly in her crib. She was the daughter of Nancy and Robert.
Today she was christened Emily. And a golden cross glittered on her little neck. She was snoozing peacefully on her pillow.
The electronic babysitter sensor blinked silently with a green button on the display. The woman’s translucent silhouette was barely visible. In the folds of the curtain, rippling in the July draught.
Curtains. Will you be happy? Tiny. Quietly whispered, a voice.
You will be happy for sure. The birth curse has been lifted forever.