In the silence of the room where the grand piano played its tune, There was nobody to be seen

as a deathly chill filled the gloom, Shadows swallowed the dusty books that lay strewn all about, From the crack of an open window the curtains billowed out, And the servants below stairs shivered in solemn anticipation, For seldom did the ghost appear unless on a special occassion. The grey hound in the drafty hallway paces the cold stone floor, Watching with nervous looks the golden handle of the oak door, His ears pricked and listening for any sign of his master returned, But all he could hear above the music was firewood as it burned, Yet picking up the old scent of his master he whines impatiently, Perhaps he can lead us to the source of what others cannot see. Candles flicker and spectral shapes are cast upon the dull walls, Even peacocks in the grounds heighten the chill with their calls, A clock chimes in sweet remembrance of happier times that were, And mist on the lawns gathers itself into shapes that seem to stir, It is such nights as this that sensible folk say stay indoors and rest, But ever there will be those who dare to put their fears to the test. Such is a well dressed man of breeding who comes here to dine, He arrives in the evening by carriage just at the stroke of nine, A dark brooding stranger with coal black hair and eyes to match, There is a twinkle in that gaze which only the moon can catch, With confident strides he reaches the door and all falls still again, The spell seems broken for a while and now lets normality reign. The sad maid takes his coat and hat laying his cane by their side, She s been at Wakeford Hall since the year before the baby died, The strain of the times and the sorrow of the tragedy she shares, Seems to weigh heavy on her shoulders and her steps up the stairs, And he senses that nothing here is as it once was in days gone by, When their fortunes were assured and his expectations were high. His strong grip on the bannister was like a vice to steady his nerve, He cannot now falter and from his resolve he should not swerve, Driving headlong towards a road that leads he knows not where, The young man straightens up and runs a hand through his hair, Always aware of the surroundings and happier times of this place, He sets his doubt aside and shows determination on a rugged face. So it is to be a secret supper for only the two of them he realises, As he is escorted towards private chambers and more surprises, Left to enter alone and not introduced as strict formality dictates, Not greeted properly and left to impropriety at mercy to the fates, A lot had changed and what once had been beautiful was tainted, Just like the portrait of them now which he himself had painted. He noticed the canvas torn and lifeless from oustide the door, Saw again the eyes of his lover and the expression they bore, And a chill fell over the stranger s heart and he knew not why, Perhaps it was for their offspring who had been destined to die, Or maybe it was the sense of guilt that the partner too was dead, Regret and shame for staying away now filled his heart and head. A frosty wind chilled his bones as he stood alone in quiet thought, He felt a push and an icy hand by some unseen assailant caught, And he realised in that instant what tumult must haunt his love,

As ghostly tendrils held him fast until he fell to push and shove, The door to the room he was to finally have his secret assignation, Rattled as it shook from the other side with hopeless determination. His head was bleeding and his heart pounded but he did not stop, With ashen pallor his skin felt every ice cold wave to a single drop, Perhaps mixed with tears and vengeful wrath of a wraith in woe, Like a sea to drown his wishes and leave him adrift to quickly go, But he fights it as objects fly through the air as if a storm sweeps in, He does not here the cries for help or words of anger above the din. The servants too late fall upon the scene with little cause for haste, They have found strange goings on not at all to their liking or taste, Seeing an unconcious man being dragged by his feet down the hall, Watching in fright as knocks and bangs bounce off ceiling and wall, Yet nobody moved to help or dared to block the path the spirit took, Paralysed with fear and rooted to the spot they screamed and shook. He roused awhile and put up a valiant effort his muscles straining, His will was willing but the energy within him was sadly draining, He choked and coughed and red stained the white of his left glove, It seemed he was to die and never get to see his one and only love, But then the timid butler came to his wits and even sooner to his aid, Battling the invisble force and showing courage though very afraid. A light shines from the windows of Wakeford Hall viewed from afar, How beautiful it looks in the moonlight under a bright Northern star, A carriage waits patiently and the four horses are restless to be away, A dog s warning howl cuts the night like a knife now scaring the bay, The driver steadies the reins and wonders what goes on inside there, But he buries himself deeper in his warm tweed coat with little care.