Zechariah Barraclough returns, a gothic tale .

mount

Regular blog readers might remember than some years back I was involved in a project that required the creation of a rough draft of Emily Brontes second novel,not in any great detail but in order to be referred to in a short play I was co writing.While most of it I quickly forgot I always felt one character deserved a life outside that limited existence bestowed on him by the little plot synopsis ,from time to time in moments of leisure I have pondered his fate ,now I have the results of my pondering s,written very much in the vein of the original synopsis without beginning and probably without a neat and tidy ending.I do not claim any literary merit for them I am not a author  and this was typed without reflection,but when finished  I think Zechariah can be laid to rest content.Its presented in the Victorian Gothic medium.

 

Chap 1

Looking back, I do not remember when he changed ,when  the iron entered his soul and the man of flesh began to die and all better feelings fall away from him like the old skin of a snake or spider.

I do however remember, when it most clearly came home to me that things where not, as once they had been.That he ,who I was bound to irrevocably for life ,was now a cruel all-powerful jailer and not a helpmate and friend.

Lulled by years of happiness ,I was slow to see that now ,I  lived with a different creature .I did not see that to this new being ,I was not an equal  and my life was not mine to live freely but merely to expend in his service .

I realised  this surprisingly suddenly ,though it had taken some years  for the evidence to accumulate and some months for me to organise it into such stark clarity .To think the unthinkable as it were  .

I realised it, looking out over the garden one day,a sunny day, surprisingly  for storms  I  gather are  frequently presented as more peculiarly  suited to revelations of misery and extreme distress) .We were due to spend several months alone in a distant and remote region ,surrounded by mountains ,far from the nearest town and in an essentially deserted village.

sg cover

The house we had charge of was large and isolated, perched precariously on a cliff edge, its only neighbour ,the lonely and half derelict church that was slowly edging closer and closer to annihilation, as the rock on which it was built crumbled and fell away .The once solid mass  of its foundations ,worn away after centuries abraded by the snow and  harsh gales of winter and the baking heat of summer .It seems not all houses built on a rock ,are in fact as safe and enduring as a superficial reading  of scripture leads us to believe.

sg 6 hou

I digress ,to return to my sudden epiphany. I  had just finished the creation of a “contract”  on which I had expended a great deal of thought and I tentatively mentioned it to Zechariah for his approval.

sg writ

I cannot now remember if I had written it in full or only my rough jottings lay before me ,but he refused utterly to consider it ,though he seemed in no way annoyed and calmly dismissed it before going off to finish some task  .

I should have picked up on the significance of this strange calm detached response. Surely outrage or hurt feelings ought to have been the natural reaction,I did not see because I was not yet ready to see .I did not then suspect that Zechariah was not only ,not what he had been ,but was also not as other men .

What struck me instead was my own ridiculous reaction,I was utterly wretched ,I had relied on his agreeing to the contract and to having it witnessed as my only protection against the months of time alone together .A time when his control over my life was going to be absolute.

It seemed unreasonable to me, that he chose to refuse me. He knew how the trust between us had become eroded, he had claimed repentance and a wish to make amends.He had earnestly expressed sorrow and regret , been unequivocal  in condemning his past misdemeanours.

These protestations however had been made before others  and I now see  they where merely for the benefit of his audience  ,a wish to seem reasonable and caring,a wish in short to be seen now  as  the person he had once been and not as the creature he had become.

I had expressed in the contract in some detail what I felt required in order to  feel able to place my self safely so utterly  under his control as I would soon be.Shortly I would be reliant on him for food,warmth ,medical aid,even water and in my soul there was an overwhelming sense of dread .

Briefly In the contract ( had he signed it ) he promised before God and the chosen witness  to provide certain necessities (I planned on having his signature witnessed and a copy of the contract left behind with the said witness.)

I insisted that, enough food be provided and in sufficient variety to ensure health,I spent most of the time invovled in formulating the contract on this section as I  felt a clear list of  foods was necessary ,not specifying exactly the required quantities and variety might result in a limited  diet of bread and butter or potatoes and water .I also specified that fuel enough to provide a decent heat source must be guaranteed as I did not plan on spending a winter in that high and drafty spot  without warmth.I specified access to water and  lastly that if I requested it I would be taken to the local town to seek medical aid ,whether or no Zechariah himself felt it was needed .

 

What struck me  forcibly and quite suddenly that day ,was how stupid it was to be so distressed by his refusal to sign the contract because it was a monumentaly stupid idea .I realised in that fraction of time,  how  blind I had been and how I had lost all touch with actual reality .

Why on earth was I so heartbroken at his “unreasonable ” refusal to sign the ridiculous contract?I realised then ,what I ought to have seen long before ,that there is something seriously wrong with your marriage when you have to rely on a water tight ,specific, highly detailed witnessed statement to ensure the person to who you are bound for life will provide you with the means of continuing life.That it is a sad thing to know you must have a witness and a  oath to ensure your husband will feed ,cloth and keep you warm.

I also should have realised much more was wrong  because I did not feel in any way comforted that Zechariah had  promised before God and witnesses to “love and to cherish”  me and  yet  I thought Zechariah is a man of his word and devoted to his faith But my inner self knew ,what my thinking self had not yet grasped,that no word or vow would be of any importance ,that Zechariah cared not one jot for breaking an oath to God ,or going back on anything he promised before men so long as he could give the impression of innocence .

I looked in vain for a way out ,an escape from the years of misery that stretched before me  but knew there was none .I was bound  for life by sacred oath and law to Zechariah and my actions must therefore  be guided by reality and I learned to look towards a future as bleak as grey day of interminable drizzle .I did not then see that the future might hold even worse.

Flight  and winter wanderings among lonely hills and mountains

 

 

 

 

I did not ponder that Zechariahs thoughts might also be moving  from the arduous task of  breaking his current wife’s will ,and towards finding a more accommodating life partner .

For Zechariah ,”till death do us part” did not present the same insurmountable  obstacle which it did to myself. He unlike myself, was not willing to hope for some unforeseen illness or accident  at some distant point in the future  in order to gain his freedom,he was thinking ahead and his thoughts dwelt on death .

So it was that I left friends,family and the restraining hand of civilisation and set my face towards the sea and mountains,,and whatever my future might hold

villette_edite_by_abigial709b-d46wsio wp

 

 

 

Advertisements

About hathawaysofhaworth

I am a Historian and author living in the north
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s