Miss Gabriel's Gambit by Rita Boucher

Author:Rita Boucher [Boucher, Rita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1993-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The cold vapor was as damp as the fog that rises from the Thames. It wrapped itself around him like a macabre lover, touching David with icy fingers. The mist-filled room was much like the one at White’s, but utterly empty except for the gilt table and chairs holding the huge chessboard, the white squares inlaid with silver coins, the black with golden guineas. David knew that he was dreaming, yet that knowledge was no comfort against the nameless terror that waited in the shadows. He struggled against sleep but he was helpless against the spell of his dreams, powerless against the phantasms of the night.

He seated himself as the mists stirred with the murmur of high-pitched voices; vague shapes filled the darkness until, as before, a woman took form. She took the chair opposite, her face hidden by the shroud of vapors. However much he tried he could not discern her face. In the darkness behind her the amorphous shadows whispered, their laughter like the sound of wind through trees in winter. He knew that they were laughing at him.

“Your move,” the woman said, her voice rasping and harsh.

“Your move. Your move!” The wraiths whispered like the chorus in a Greek play.

David examined the board carefully and took the obvious opening. “Check and mate,” he declared triumphantly, attempting to move his queen, but the queen was stuck fast to the board.

“You cannot move the queen,” the woman said, malice in her voice.

“That is unfair,” David said.

“Unfair! Unfair!” The ghostly women echoed, but they chided him, not her.

“You lose, milord,” the challenger sneered, her face taking shape at last. It was Mrs. Gabriel, her florid face reddening as she poked him with an iron finger. “You shall marry me.”

“Marry me. Marry me. Marry me,” repeated the voices.

“I shall not,” David said, attempting to rise and leave as he had in previous dreams, but to his horror he found that he was chained to the board. “You have cheated.”

“I concede,” Mrs. Gabriel laughed. “But if you will not have me, then you shall play us all, milord.”

“Play us all. Play us all. Play us all ...” The faceless figures crowded towards him, reaching, laughing mockingly. “Play us all. Play us all.”

The words reverberated in David’s ears as he sat bolt upright in a tangle of sheets. The substance of the dream faded into a jumble of images of chessboards and ghosts, but the aura of fear remained as palpable as the clammy sheen of sweat upon his chest. He breathed slowly, deeply; fumbling for his glasses hoping that they would return the world to its proper perspective. With the spectacles in place, David focused on the reality of the morning sunlight that streamed through the windows until his heart stopped galloping.

“Ah, I thought that I heard you stirring,” Harjit said, as he peered into the room, frowning at the sight of David’s weary, pale countenance. “You slept poorly again.”

“I have had more restful nights,” David admitted, stretching his aching limbs as he rose to perform his morning ablutions.

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