Things had not changed. Castleberry was a rare tenant in our home. I had never seen him, but all accounts said he was a changed man: repentant, handsome, and kind. I was all ears. Therefore, I found myself staring out the arch-topped window of the old nursery one sunny afternoon in September. Because I had been reading, I knew that the new tenant was likely to be strolling the grounds. With any luck, he would be accompanied by a large dog or three for protection. I could scarcely wait for them to turn the corner.
When Mr. Henry finally did so, I could not believe my eyes. His black coat and exquisite top hat were paired with a head of jet-black hair. However, he was not alone. His arm was linked in the firm grip of a very beautiful woman. She was nearly as tall as he was and had the same lightning-hourglass figure as the rest of us women.
It was only when she turned my way that I realized that she might be more than just his companion.
It was Lady Devonshire before I knew her as Lady Anne.
The beginning of Hope's Long Fortunes
Hope's long history began when he was a young man. He was almost mortally wounded in a duel and thus became sickly. On his deathbed, he was visited by a great angel who told him that his only chance to survive was to travel back in time. The angel told Hope that he would have the chance for a full life, if he could find the woman who saved his life. This young lady is just that - the very soul who sacrificed her place in the present to heal the past.
Hope sets out on a mission to find her. Unfortunately, he finds her too late to change the past. He is now a ghost. However, he finds that he can visit her. He can tell her what she should not have done and what she should have done instead. He discovered that, if she follows his advice, he can have a future. He is forced to fulfill this role by haunting and shadowing her.
Hope's previous life was nothing like his future. It was nothing but a fairy tale in comparison. However, Hope comes to understand that the real fairy tale is his soon-to-be life. Still, he fears that all the best parts of his life might slip out of his grasp. The worst part of all is the fact that he has no voice. He has to rely on his beloved to find a way to communicate with him.
"You had better try to talk to me. I don't know if I can do this. I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm just so new at this,'' she said. She was crying.
She was right. It was her fault. It was entirely her fault.
I did not have the power of speech then. If I did, I would have told her it was not her fault. It was no fault of her own.
I didn't have the power of speech.
I only had the power to watch and observe and advise. However, she needed to feel like it was her fault. This was how I knew that this was how things were going to happen. If she believed it was her fault, then she would not give up on me. She would not give up on our life as her new husband's ghost. Then, I would be free to have a life with her.
She loved me. She loved me so very much.
I had to believe this and trust it.
The young ladies are so fickle. I had just turned fifteen. There was nothing surprising about the fact that the sweet, pretty little Lady Anne of Castleberry had come to be the object of my affection. The shock was that it was not her who had come to be the object of my affection; it was me. I was supposed to be the object of her affection. I had always been the object of someone's affection. Not until then did I know what it felt like to be the object of my own affection.
I had only begun to know what it felt like to be a gentleman. I had become a man. I felt like a man. I schooled myself to be a gentleman. I had been trained. I had been taught. I had bee taught very well. Having a fine appearance and being well-educated is not easy. It takes a lifetime or several to perfect the craft of being a gentleman. I had nearly made it. It was perfect, the whole thing.
