The Missing Piece July 15, 1825 Dearest Mother,       I am sorry for my recent lack of correspondence. I did not mean to be rude or to worry you, but these last few months have just been a whirlwind of excitement. Oh mother, I do not even know how to tell you, I am going to be married.       His name is Devon, Dr. Devon Baker. I met him while on holiday in Boston. I noticed him looking at me in the lobby of the Opera House during the intermission of Rigolleto and our eyes locked. He was a very tall gentleman, elegantly clad, more so than the other men attending the opera. He had an air of utmost nobility and grace. His face was both soft and bold and it held a smile of genuine kindness. I smiled back at him, blushed shyly and looked away. He approached me after the show and offered to escort me back to my room. We walked through the park. It was a warm summer night with a bright full moon which cast eerie shadows through the trees. We exchanged humorous childhood stories to fight off the dark figures of our imaginations. I felt so safe with him. When we reached the inn we paused outside and stood there on the porch for what seemed like an eternity gazing into each other’s eyes. He finally broke the silence by asking me to join him for dinner the following evening. I composedly accepted his invitation but I do believe that the redness in my cheeks gave away my true emotion.       One dinner led to another, then another, then luncheons, afternoon walks, evening shows and late night carriage rides. I extended my stay in Boston and we continued to see more of each other every day. Eventually I knew that I would have to return home and my heart broke to think of having to end my companionship. I tearfully told Devon that I would soon have to travel back to New York, but he would hear nothing of it. He told me that he could not bear parting with me and that very evening he asked me to be his wife.       Oh mother, you cannot imagine the joy that I am feeling right now. My only regret is that the wedding will take place so soon that there can be no arrangements made so that you might be able to attend. By the time this letter reaches you I will already be Mrs. Devon Baker. I know that you must be deeply disappointed by this, but, please, take comfort in knowing that your daughter is the happiest that she has ever been. I promise that once I am settled in my new home I will make it a point to send for you so that you may visit me and meet your new son-in-law.       All my love,             Virginia       The ornate carriage bounced and rattled over the gravel road. Virginia peered out the small window in fervent anticipation. In the distance loomed a large, extravagant looking mansion. Her eyes sparkled at the vision of her new home. She spun around in her seat and smiled delightedly at her new husband. Devon smiled back warmly and tenderly brushed a lock of hair from her face. He held her chin gently and stared into her hazel eyes, almost studying them. Virginia flushed and turned back to her window to watch the house as it neared.       Once the coach had reached its destination the couple stepped out into the vast shadow cast by the grand house. Virginia stared up at the lavish building and the dark windows seemed to stare back at her. For a brief moment she felt a chill run up her spine. She heard Devon’s voice behind her as he thanked the driver and sent him on his way and her apprehension vanished. She reached down to pick up the lightest of her luggage and the newlyweds entered the manor.       Virginia was astounded by the lush decor that greeted them as they stepped into the main hall. She had come from a fairly wealthy family but she had never seen such treasures displayed in a homestead before. Chandeliers, golden candlesticks, tapestries, antique vases, Persian rugs, it was all so regal. She gaped at the glamorous riches laid out before her.       “Oh, Devon, I am afraid to touch anything here lest I damage something priceless.”       “Do not worry, my dear. These are only material possessions. They are tokens of the past and would not pain me to lose. You, on the other hand, are truly priceless.”       She swooned and reached out for her husband. She sank into his arms and fought back her tears.       “My dear, sweet husband. You have made me so happy.”       “And you are the missing piece of my heart.” August 9, 1825 Dearest Mother,       I am writing to you as Mrs. Devon Baker. I have not yet gotten used to the title. I am very sorry that you could not be present at the wedding. There were only a few guests in attendance, mostly colleagues of Devon who live in Boston. His own family could not come down from Philadelphia on such short notice, so please do not feel as though you were the only family member who was left out. I know how much you would have wanted to be a part of the ceremony, especially since father passed away. I would have loved to have you give me away at the altar. I was rather lonely and frightened walking down the aisle by myself in that big empty church with no familiar faces to latch on to. However, I was comforted by the presence of Devon standing strong and sure beneath the colored glow of the stained glass windows. His eyes never left mine throughout the entire procession up that long empty chapel.       I have just moved into my new home this afternoon. It is a grand old house nestled in the woods a few miles outside of Boston. Devon is apparently a collector of antiquities and other fine artwork for everywhere I look there is another priceless artifact. I feel as though I am living in a palace. I have not yet had the chance to fully explore my new surroundings and I look forward to discovering all of the hidden treasures that the house conceals.       I cannot wait until I am settled and am able to send for you. I miss you terribly. I know that you are concerned for my well-being, so, until I can summon you here, know that I am well and happy.       All my love,             Virginia       The bright morning light pierced through the large bedroom windows. The delicate canopy surrounding the bed did little to mute the lustrous sunbeams. Virginia awoke to find herself alone on the large plush mattress. She glanced around frantically until she remembered where she was. Through the light drapery she spied Devon’s silhouette getting dressed. She wrapped the top sheet around her bare body and then wrestled her way out of bed to greet her husband.       “Good morning, my love. Why are you dressing so early?”       “I am needed in town today for surgery.”       Virginia’s head sank as a look of disappointment washed over her face. Devon gently grasped her chin and lifted it up so that he could look into her eyes. He gave her a compassionate smile.       “I am very sorry, my dear, but that is my profession. You can spend the day acquainting yourself with your new home. I am afraid that I do not have a staff and I hope that you will not be too lonely here all by yourself. I will be home before supper and we can spend the evening together doing whatever your little heart desires.”       She gave him a faint smile which seemed to satisfy him and he leaned down to give her a kiss. He gathered up his jacket and a few papers and made his way to the main entrance. The sound of the large door closing as he left echoed throughout the empty house. Virginia slowly dressed herself and began her exploration of the estate.       The house was a series of dark corridors emptying out into giant rooms. She came across the library which held more books than she imagined she could read in one lifetime. They towered on the massive shelves that covered every square inch of wall space. Then she stumbled upon the dining room with a table so long that it would have been impossible to hold any real sort of dinner conversation without shouting. The attached kitchen was also monumental and filled with an astonishing array of cookware and dishes that looked as if an entire cooking staff would run out of uses for it all. She climbed up and down stairs, walked down many dim hallways and entered several guest bedrooms, a conservatory, a study, a ballroom and a lounge. She wandered for hours, ending her journey in the parlour on the ground floor.       It was like all of the other rooms that Virginia had seen in the sense that it was very large and filled with dozens of the magnificent objects that Devon seemed so fond of. The one major difference in this particular room was a great portrait set above the marble fireplace. No other room had any pictures or paintings. It was as if there was no one in Devon’s life worthy of immortality except for the subject of this one painting.       The portrait was of a beautiful young woman. She was of a very slender figure behind a sleek white dress. Her long chestnut hair flowed past her symmetrical shoulders. Her skin was pale but her cheeks captured a small amount of color. Her lips, set in a slight smile, were bright ruby and her hazel eyes shimmered. Her features were gentle and kind. Virginia was entranced by the beauty captured in the paint.       “She was my first.”       Virginia’s breath caught in her throat as she was snapped back into reality by the sudden voice behind her. She turned around to see Devon’s tall frame standing in the entryway. He walked toward the fireplace, his eyes transfixed on the portrait.       “Margaret was my first wife, my first real love.”       Virginia stared up at her husband as he continued to gaze at the woman in the painting. His eyes betrayed an immense sadness. Eventually he pulled himself away from the image and sat down on the couch. He put his head in his hands and massaged his temples as if to alleviate a great pain. Virginia sat down next to him and placed her hands gingerly on his lap.       “We were childhood sweethearts,” he began. “We knew each other before either of us could remember. It was a relationship that people only read about in stories. We knew that we were destined for one another and we wed as soon as we were able.”       Devon began to tremble slightly and stopped for a moment to choke back a tear.       “Five years ago we were in Philadelphia visiting my family. It was an incredibly cold evening and all of the fireplaces throughout the house were lit to fight off the miserable temperatures. I was very tired from the journey and decided to go to bed but Margaret was suffering from insomnia and opted to sit up a while in the study and read. Sometime during the night one of the unattended fires set off a spark that caught a nearby piece of furniture and soon the whole house was ablaze. I escaped my room and tried to find my love in the smoldering building. I could hear her screaming over the roaring flames but I could not reach her. The fire blocked my only path to her and my lungs and eyes were burning from the smoke. I fought my way outside the doomed house and attempted to find another escape for my trapped wife, but I could not rescue her before the entire structure collapsed into a flaming pile of rubble. That night I lost my heart.”       Now the tears flowed freely down Devon’s face. Virginia, overcome with emotion, attempted to soothe the poor wreck. She cradled his head in her arms until the sobbing dissipated and he regained his composure. He looked deeply into Virginia’s eyes and smiled.       “You have her eyes.”       Virginia beamed and kissed Devon tenderly on the forehead.       “I know that I could never replace your lost love, but I hope that I can find a similar place in your heart.”       “Oh, Virginia, you are the missing piece of my heart.” September 22, 1825 Dearest Mother,       Although I am surrounded by grand splendor, I have discovered that married life is not as glamorous as I had first thought. I am still very much in love with Devon and I know that he is still in love with me. Every time that he looks into my eyes I can sense a deep and heartfelt passion. The trouble is that I rarely ever see him anymore. Practically every morning he has to go into town to perform some delicate operation. I do realize that it is his career and he must be a very skillful surgeon to be needed so often, but I am so utterly alone when he is gone. This house feels like a tomb sometimes.       I have run out of ways to amuse myself while Devon is away. He has an immense library but it is mostly filled with medical journals and encyclopedias. There is really nothing there suited for a young woman. I generally find myself wandering around the mansion aimlessly, like a lost ghost drifting about with no direction. Most of the time I wind up in the parlour. There is a beautiful portrait there of Devon’s first love, the poor dear is still terribly distraught by her loss. He can barely even look at the painting without breaking into tears. There is something so entrancing about her image that I find myself staring at it for hours. Please do not think me insane, dear mother, but I swear that every now and then I can hear strange noises coming from behind the canvas. I know that it is probably just the old house moaning, but it has certainly piqued my curiosity. I suppose I am just creating my own mystery in an attempt to dissuade my boredom.       I hope that everything is well in New York. I miss the city. It is so quiet out here. I think I may take a short vacation back to New York in October to visit you. Perhaps I can pull Devon away from his practice to come along. I would love for you to come here, but I think it would do me good to get out of the house for a little while. I will be sure to let you know when I have made my plans.       All my love,             Virginia       Virginia woke to the hollow sound of the front door closing and echoing through the house. Devon had left early again without even bothering to say goodbye. He had told her before that he did not wish to wake her, but this small act of kindness still felt cold to Virginia. She lay in bed staring through the silky drapery to the window and the outside world. The leaves had turned their autumn colors and many of the trees had already dropped them to the ground. They stretched their bare branches toward the window like fingers reaching for something to grasp. Virginia shuddered slightly and turned away from the wooden hands. She wished that Devon had not left, she felt so safe around him.       Eventually Virginia managed to force herself out of bed and into the bowels of the empty mansion. She walked through the long hallways unguidedly, tracing her fingers idly along the walls. Before she knew it she was back in the parlour with the beguiling Margaret perched above the marble fireplace.       The portrait loomed over Virginia as she stood beneath it, studying it. The woman truly was beautiful. While she focused on the captivating painting she thought she heard a noise coming from behind the fireplace. She held her breath and strained to listen. She had heard strange sounds in this room before, but never so distinctly. Just as she had convinced herself that it was only her imagination she heard it again. It was a very faint creaking, like the sound of a door being opened in another part of the house. Virginia began to search the wall in an attempt to find the source of the strange sound. Her fingers fumbled against the cold marble and the wall leaving behind strange patterns in the thin layers of dust and soot. She stumbled across a small switch next to the fireplace. She bit her lower lip as she flipped the strange device. Suddenly a small door behind the hearth cracked open. She hesitantly picked up one of the golden candlesticks, lit the wick and carefully pushed through the small entrance.       Once on the other side of the fireplace, she found herself in a long stone hallway. She swallowed hard and cautiously made her way down the dark corridor. At the end of the hall was a large wooden door. She leaned up against it and listened. No sound was to be heard. Virginia reached out slowly, grasped the handle and gently opened the door.       Immediately she was overcome with a hideous stench that bombarded her at the open door. She gasped and winced at the foul odor. When she finally opened her eyes she discovered that she was in some sort of laboratory. Dim sunlight was shining through the slats of a large wooden grate at the top of a small flight of stairs. A ghastly collection of tools shimmered on a metal bench underneath the slim rays. There was a long wooden table in the center of the room that looked as though it had been splattered with black stain. Virginia shuddered as she looked at the dark blotches. They spilled over onto the floor and led to a small door off to her right. Unable to control her actions, Virginia followed the gruesome tracks and opened the door. She reared back in horror as a conglomeration of severed limbs tumbled from the small closet. A sea of arms, torsos, legs, feet and other appendages spilled out onto the stained floor with a sickening slapping sound like fish being dumped onto the deck of a boat. A scream caught in Virginia’s throat and she stumbled backward until she was pressed up against another door. She scrambled with the knob, her eyes still locked on the abominable pile of body parts. She wrenched open the door and slammed it firmly behind her.       She was now in a brightly lit room. It seemed to be an exact replica of the master bedroom in the grand house, which now seemed so far away. There was a large mahogany bed in front of her with a translucent canopy surrounding it. Behind the canopy Virginia could distinctly make out the form of a body. She slowly approached the bed and the mysterious figure laying in it. Her entire body trembled as she stepped ever closer. With a shaking hand she reached out for the fine drapery and threw it aside. What she saw left her completely horrified. Lying on the elegant bed was a veritable rag doll. The body of a woman had been pieced and sewn together from a multitude of limbs and appendages. It was a patchwork quilt of body parts, each section of which had faded into various shades of decay highlighted by a mess of blood soaked stitches. The hideous creature had been carefully wrapped in an elegant white dress. The gruesome face had been stitched together in such a way that it looked as though it were truly smiling from ear to sewn on ear. The horrid thing stared up at Virginia with two empty black sockets.       “How do you like her?”       Virginia spun around in terror to see her husband standing at the door. “I’ve been building her for years. It was actually quite easy, you see, I remember every detail of Margaret. All I had to do was find all of the right pieces.”       He began to walk toward the bed with slow calculated steps. Virginia sank down to the floor gripping the mahogany bed post.       “She was my heart.”       He drew even closer.       “I couldn’t live without my heart.”       He stood over the terrified Virginia with a gentle smile on his lips.       “And you, my dear Virginia, are the missing piece.”       He reached down and lovingly brushed a lock of hair from her face. He held her chin and looked down at her with a tender expression. She stared back at him, frozen to the spot with fear.       “You see, my dear, you have her eyes.”