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Thursday April 26, 1792 – 8:17 a.m.

Fairhurst Castle, England

 

    A thick blanket of fog covered the Atlantic Ocean just off the coast of Penzance, Cornwall, England sending wispy tendrils of vapor up the rocky cliffs surrounding Fairhurst Castle.  These ghostly serpents slithered silently around the lighthouse overlooking the Atlantic, across the rocky ground and through the tall grass that lined the edge of the castles’ moat; slithered across the water unhindered and effortlessly drifted up and over the castle walls and into the inner bailey inside.  A bright spot in the sky indicated the presence of the sun as it attempted to burn through this heavy blanket that now shielded the castle from view. 

    Inside the walls of the castle stood Ailsa Fairhurst, rightful heir of this five centuries old monstrosity.  Having lost her husband to smallpox two years earlier, Ailsa, and the remaining servants decided to continue living in the castle.  Because of its’ location near the city, its’ exquisite view of the Atlantic Ocean and its’ having been in her family for some 500 years, this was the only place Ailsa had ever known.  Since she was an only child, her father had willed the castle to her before he’d died.  Her mother knew nothing of this gift since she had died years earlier.  Now, at 35 years of age, Ailsa was the sole heir of this beautiful estate. 

    Standing in front of the huge fireplace in the great hall, ghostly shadows and orange light danced across Ailsa’s face as she stared into the flickering flames.  Her long brunette hair and green eyes added luster to her soft facial features and fair complexion.  Ailsa’s shapely figure was illuminated in the firelight and her spunky, independent attitude added a fire of its own to the life of the castle.  Her long, slender fingers added a touch of beauty to her feminine form matched only by the gracefulness of her walk. 

    Having been born into privilege, Ailsa had rarely had to do anything for herself, although she had on many occasions done so anyway because of her curious nature and her thirst to understand the world around her.  She was a thinker, unlike many of the women of her day.  Most were encouraged not to go beyond their position of being “women,” having little or no say in matters of daily life or of doing anything independently.  Ailsa, on the other hand, enjoyed doing many things.  Although chastised by her parents and others who lived in the castle, Ailsa, nevertheless, allowed her independent spirit to carry her everywhere.  Even after she was married, she continued to display an aura of independence.  Her husband could see the curiosity and intrigue that sparkled in her eyes and kindly allowed her to exercise her freedom unhindered, although she was often looked down upon for doing so. 

    Having warmed herself sufficiently in front of the fire, Ailsa turned toward the kitchen that was connected to the huge hall by a doorway at the far end.  Breakfast would be served shortly.  Although Ailsa lived alone, she still had several people who worked and lived in the castle; gardeners, servants, cooks, maids and others.  The castle was big enough and needed enough care and maintenance that it kept all of them busy.  Besides the normal activity that demanded the attention of Ailsa and her entourage of helpers, Ailsa also entertained friends and townsfolk quite often which added to the workload of the staff on hand. 

    Ailsa turned and went through the kitchen door.   She sat down at a large hand-carved mahogany wooden table that she liked to use for breakfast when she ate alone, which was more often than not.  On other occasions, she would use the breakfast nook that faced the Eastern sky so that she might catch the maximum amount of sunlight possible as it streamed into the room early in the morning.  Her breakfast arrived in a flourish and was set before her. Slices of ham, scrambled eggs filled with peppers, mushrooms, onions and spices, fresh baked bread and jelly were all arranged neatly on the tabletop.  A glass of juice was set off to the side along with a bowl of fresh fruit.  Ailsa eagerly began to eat. 

    Although the castle was some 500 years old, over the years, utensils, furnishings, water and other currently modern advancements had been integrated into the stone structure.   Ailsa enjoyed these modern conveniences but never complained about having to do some extra work around the castle when needed.  The castle itself was huge, designed with over twenty bedrooms, a large well-stocked kitchen and pantry, a buttery for serving beverages, a great hall for entertaining guests and visiting with family and friends, an inner bailey, a garden and a well which had been plumbed to provide water throughout the castle through a unique system of levers, pumps and waterwheels; a chapel, now rarely used, a keep, several towers, a turret overlooking the entrance which was located opposite the Atlantic and the lighthouse, which afforded a 360 degree view above the castle in all directions.  High up on the castle walls, crenellations made of alternating crenels and merlons could be seen.  Behind these crenels and merlons was the wall walk that was protected on the inside by a four-foot parapet.  Around the outside of the castle was a moat which no longer served as protection against invading armies but rather added luster and intrigue to the amazing structure.   Contrary to popular belief, the moat contained only water, but no crocodiles or alligators.  The moat was then connected to a pond by means of a small stone lined waterway fifteen feet across and twenty feet deep.   At both ends of the waterway, underwater gates had been constructed to prevent intruders from entering the castle undetected.  On the opposite side of the pond, a small stream drained off into the Atlantic.  Underwater springs fed the moat and kept it filled year round as well as providing the castle with water via the well. 

    Inside the southwest tower was the dungeon which had been used on various occasions in the past, and the tower on the northwest corner was where Ailsa’s room was.  She always enjoyed waking up in the morning and opening her window that overlooked the inner bailey and the rest of the castle to watch the sunrise in the east.  At night, she enjoyed watching the sunset by means of the window on the opposite side of the room.    A long spiraling staircase encircled the inside of the tower that led down to a hallway that connected to the great hall to the east.  From there, a series of hallways and rooms encircled the inner bailey making their way around the castle until they once again met up with the great hall.  This was Ailsa’s home.

    Having finished her breakfast, Ailsa decided to take a walk in the cool, invigorating sea air.  Leaving the kitchen, she made her way across the inner bailey and exited through the main gate on the west side.  A tabby cat ran across her path as she walked through the gatehouse and out of the castle.  Crossing the wooden drawbridge, her feet clip clopping on the wood and echoing off the stone walls of the castle, Ailsa turned south toward the lighthouse and headed for the Atlantic Ocean.  The strong smell of salt air filled the air.  Raising her head slightly to catch more of the scent, Ailsa breathed in deeply.  The powerful aroma of salt air filled her nose and lungs and after sucking in a full lungful, she exhaled slowly savoring every subtle nuance of life by the sea.  The ocean was her stimulus and she loved going out to it every chance she got.  The distant roar of the waves crashing on the rocky cliffs caused Ailsa to quicken her pace.  Heavy and light wisps of fog swirled around her body as she walked unhindered through it. 

    Lying approximately ½ mile from the castle was the Fairhurst Lighthouse.  As Ailsa approached it, the lower 2/3 of the 60-foot high structure slowly began to come into view as thin layers of fog drifted around the base of the structure.  The top part of the lighthouse couldn’t be seen from the ground because of the morning fog.  The lighthouse sat precariously close to the edge of a cliff that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean.  A drop of over 100 feet to the rocks below would easily give anyone vertigo if they were to look over the edge.  Off to the left of the lighthouse, a small trail wound its’ way down to the ocean below.  A small sandy beach nestled between walls of rock could be found at the end of the trail.  Even at high tide, the beach was never completely covered, but the closeness of the powerful ocean and the towering cliffs on either side made one appreciate their own insignificance. Ailsa slowed as she reached the base of the lighthouse.  A powerful beacon of light sent out beams of light high above her warning ships of the dangers below. 

    On staff at the castle was Cuthbert, the lighthouse keeper.  Daily he kept the lamp burning and maintained to provide safety for any approaching vessels.  Ailsa loved Cuthbert.  He was like a grandfather to her.  His stress free attitude and easygoing demeanor instantly attracted even the meanest of men to him.  He never complained and always had something positive to say.   He’d been a friend of the family for years, even before Ailsa had been born. 

    Reaching the door to the lighthouse, Ailsa opened it and climbed the stairs to the top.  Emerging from the top lighthouse door some 60 feet above the ground on one side and over 160 feet on the other, Ailsa’s heart jumped as she stepped out onto the small circular walkway and grabbed onto the handrail.  Her long brunette hair blew gently across her face and her plain dark blue dress wrapped around her legs and ankles as if holding on for dear life.  Looking out over the railing, Ailsa watched two seagulls as they squawked and soared high above the ocean below.  Ailsa began to relax.  Attempting to look down on the ocean below, Ailsa’s view was hindered because of the heavy fog layer.  The fog bank lay 20 feet below her, so as she looked out over the Atlantic, it appeared as if a huge down comforter had been spread out over the ocean.  The sun burned brightly in the sky overhead, the warmth on her face and body invigorating her for another day of life.  Walking around the lighthouse, she looked back toward the castle.  In the distance, the tops of a few of the castle’s towers stuck through the fog layer.  She stood staring off into the distance for a while thinking before turning and walking back to the ocean side of the lighthouse.  Standing quietly, Ailsa listened to the muffled roar of the ocean below.  A god-fearing shudder ran the length of her body as she pondered the power used to create such a magnificent and beautiful planet. 

    Ailsa closed her eyes, leaned on the railing and concentrated on the sounds of the ocean below, the seagulls in the sky, a slight breeze blowing in off of the ocean and a myriad other subtle auditory sounds.  Completely absorbed in her world of relaxation, Ailsa’s mind began to drift into a land lacking the realities of life.  Then, with a sudden jerk, her body pitched forward and stopped.  Her eyes flying open and her heart jumping into high gear, Ailsa was horrified to find herself leaning at a 45-degree angle over the ocean below.  The handrail was broken at a point to the left of her where the salt air and age had slowly eaten the metal away.  It had twisted and was now bent at a precarious angle over the ocean with Ailsa leaning against it.  Ailsa froze with fear, her heart pounding, her mind racing and her body as tense as the handrail itself.  Realizing the horrendous situation she was now in, she began to slowly inch her body up to the right toward the unbroken portion of handrail.  As she moved, the handrail under her continued to bend ever so slowly.  It was as if she were leaning against a melting candle.  She picked up her pace moving more quickly toward solid ground.  The handrail bent farther and then suddenly dropped.  Ailsa’s body, still clinging to it, fell as well.  She now found herself lying prone over the fog and ocean beneath her.  Her feet rested on the walkway while the rest of her body was lying across the rusted, bending metal.  Reaching to her right once again, Ailsa attempted to pull herself upright and back to safety.  The handrail bent again, this time pulling her feet from the walkway.  Ailsa screamed.  Her body dropped and she found herself hanging from the handrail over 160 feet above the rocks below.  Her upper torso rested on the handrail while her feet dangled precariously below her.  Struggling with all her might, she began to pull her body toward the lighthouse some three feet away.  The screeching of a seagull overhead seemed to taunt her inability to fly.  The roar of the ocean below sounded as if it had been amplified so that Ailsa couldn’t hear herself think. A cool mist of salt air caressed her hair as if to say “it’s okay, don’t panic.”  Ailsa’s strength began to wane.  Her hands, slippery from the fog-drenched salt air, which had suddenly decided to rise upward and surround the top of the lighthouse, and her own sweaty hands, hindered her from getting a better grip.  She could feel herself slipping.  Struggling, Ailsa kicked her right foot upward trying to throw her leg over the railing.  In so doing, the handrail again bent downward.  Now it hung almost vertically parallel next to the stone wall of the lighthouse.  Ailsa slipped and her body dropped downward.  She caught herself on the lowest part of the handrail.  Her body was suspended over the ocean as if it were a Christmas angel hanging from a Christmas tree.  A slight breeze blew her hair across her face and lifted her dress into the air.  Feeling her fingers slowly slipping from the metal railing, Ailsa began to scream.  Two seagulls screamed in unison as they flew by just feet from Ailsa’s dangling body.  The fog that had risen upward was now below her again and beginning to clear.  Ailsa could see the faint outline of rocks far below.  She slipped again.  She was barely hanging on, her fingernails attempting to dig into metal that she couldn’t grasp.  The sweat on her hands had increased to such an extent that tiny rivulets of water ran down her wrists and forearms and dripped into the ocean far below.  Screaming for a third time, Ailsa made one last desperate move to save herself.  As her hands began to slide off the railing, she kicked vigorously and her arms flailed in the air with the hopes that she would create enough updraft that she could once again grab hold of the railing.  However, it was not to be.  Ailsa felt herself beginning to fall toward the Atlantic below.  As if in slow motion, she watched the stones of the lighthouse wall drift by her, then the rocky cliff came into view followed finally by a few sporadic views of scraggly plant life that had tenaciously embedded themselves into the cliff wall over several years.  Her vision fading and her heart shuddering, Ailsa fell faster and faster toward the rocks below.  The last thing she remembered was the feel of the cool salt air softly caressing her face as her body disappeared into the dissipating bank of fog.  Then Ailsa fainted. 

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