Augusta

This little something has been sitting in my notes for months. I finally finished it.and yes, I'm still having a break.

-No.

Her voice was firm, her face stern.

'No, Geordie. It will not do'.

'Who would stop me, I wonder?'

She sighed.

'I would, seeing there are but two people in the room. Please, Geordie. You cannot think it wise, honestly. Seeing that Chaworth girl, that's one thing. Eloping to Greece- and with your ill health, too - is pure madness. You have to listen to me. Just look at you - all pale, your hands trembling- who'd let you go? '

'Doctors say...'

'Don't make me laugh. Doctors. Your drunkard friends, your Polidori chap - who examined you? The latter isn't fit to examine anyone, the rest - do come on, Geordie. You're wasting away, can you not see it?'

'I'm still young, Gusta'

'You don't look it. Look what your diets have done to you - they've driven you crazy. Greece! God almighty, do you even have any sense left in you?'

'Perhaps I need it to be fucked into me' he said bitterly ' Oh, Gusta. I'm so miserable'

'You're always miserable. Since we first met, you've been nothing but miserable. What's wrong now? Ran out of boys? Or is it nostalgia again? Or a bout of melancholy? Geordie, come to your senses. You've ruined your marriage, but you have a daughter. Be a father to her, try - do try, Geordie. Anabella...

'She left me.I didn't force her. Oh that prude, damn it all. One should never marry for wealth, Gusta. That woman...'

'Pity my ears, Lord Byron. I know that look she had. I don't want to know what you did to her, but God, Geordie - I was there. You forced yourself on her, didn't you?'

He shuddered.

'No more talk of this. I will never mention her name again. I must go, don't you see? Everything haunts me here. I feel...weak here- as if all strength was gone from me. Oh Gusta, can't you see, I need to go!'

She looked at him. Carefully, attentively, as if surveying each detail. His face was all aglow, but there was something unhealthy, something almost inhuman about that. His brow was still of the same pallor that drove women to him, his eyes were still brilliant, lashes- abundant. His jawline was still chiselled, his hair curled exquisitely- although the hairline began to racede a little.
He wasn't of towering height, of course, but taller than most, his body still retaining its muscular slenderness. His hands were the hands of the poet, his voice rose and fell, as the waves of the sea.
God, he is still irresistible, she admitted to herself. He is still dangerously attractive.
A vein was pulsing on his temple, as he spoke.
An uneasy feeling seized her for a moment. He was still someone she knew very well- better than he knew himself, perhaps. But something, like a feverish spark, was dancing in his dark eyes, and it felt awkwardly unsettling. Augusta rose from her seat, her dress rustling gently as she moved. Approaching him, she noticed how pale his lips were. He was trembling all over, and suddenly a new Byron was in front of her- the boy she never knew.
He looked no older than twelve, a lonely, brilliant boy of singular beauty, unbridled spirit and imagination too wild for him. A child of million dreams and darkest nightmares.
She touched his cheek.

'Georgie. Do tell me, what's wrong. It pains me to see you like that'.
He embraced her, burying his face in her hair.
'Oh Gusta ' he whispered 'I am so utterly frightened'
'Frightened? Why?'
'I am plagued by nightmares. I can barely sleep. Last night, I had to resort to laudanum. I see her wherever I go, Gusta. She's haunting me'.
'Caroline? But, Georgie...'
'It's mother. She follows me, Gusta. I cannot escape from her laughter. She cackles, she taunts me, and when I try to run, I find myself going to the crypt below the castle, where the coffins are all open, and each of them has my name on its lid. Oh Gusta, I think I am either dying or running mad...'

'You are certainly not dying. ' She said matter of factly, trying to sound calm- yet her heart was beating too fast, and her head was spinning a little. 'Please, Georgie. You need not go. Let me find you a good doctor-a real one. I can accompany you if you like. But I have an uneasy feeling. I'm afraid that your plan might be your doom. Please, don't go'.

He looked at her, strange smile playing on his lips. He reminded her of the lunatics and maddened warlocks of children's tales.

'Oh, it will be' he said 'I am certain of it. And I cannot defy my fate. I shall go there and die there. And become the voice of the freedom...'

'Don't be an idiot"

'Your brother will be a new Achilles....'

'Or a mad Hercules. George. You need a doctor'

'I will get one in Greece.'

'What if you die there?'

'Not before I see a doctor. Promise. Will you give me your blessing?'

'For the sake of my own heart. George. Go if you must. But please...'

He embraced her again, then kissed her on the forehead.

'My sweet sister. My only friend. My conscience. My reason. My heart. I shall miss you.'

'It breaks my heart to hear how you say this'.

'Augusta. I will never leave you. Even if I die there, I'll come back to haunt your dreams '.

He tickled her chin playfully. She smiled, but halfheartedly.

He smiled with his dazzling smile, and for a moment it seemed to her that he was all aflame, shining like the sun.

'Write to me'

'Of course '

'I love you'

He blew her a kiss.

She watched him crossing the street from her window. He walked confidently, his limpness almost not showing.

She never saw him again

.