“No.”
“No?”
Elinore jutted her chin out and hoped it wasn’t trembling. “I told you, I shall not leave Mr. Thistlewaite alone and unguarded.” Caleb looked as though he was preparing for a prolonged argument so she added, “The longer you argue, the longer Thistle is alone.”
Had her back not already been against the horse, she was certain the force of his glare would have sent her further away from him. Finally, he nodded grimly and then pulled out his own gun. Her eyes widened and her heart thumped, not understanding what he meant to do. He raised it and fired two shots in the air.
“To draw the attention of the others,” he said flatly. He bent over and made a cradle of his hands, jerking his head at her and then to the horse.
“And we’re going back to the carriage?” Elinore pressed. It wouldn’t do to stand her ground only to be tricked.
“You’ve indicated you won’t go elsewhere.” Caleb’s tone was dour, but he didn’t protest any further. Elinore nodded tersely, setting her boot in his hands. She jumped as well as she could and Caleb added to her momentum, boosting her to sit side-saddle on his horse. He quickly swung up behind, caging her in with his arms when he reached for the reins. Her hands found the saddle to steady herself and with a click of his tongue, the horse broke forward at a fast clip. She gritted her teeth as they headed deeper back into the forest.
Chapter Three
Elinore should have felt more secure going back into the forest now that she wasn’t alone, but her stomach churned with unease. Her arm throbbed deep into the skin, settling into her marrow. Although she wanted to slouch forward with fatigue, she forced herself to sit upright, maintaining her posture. Caleb was a long line of heat against her side and for that, at least, she was grateful. Even through the two cloaks she wore, she could feel the heat of his body against her own, pushing away the chill of the night and the former rain.
Caleb pulled the horse up short when they came upon the carriage and a sound like a growl came from his throat. In the moonlight, her eyes now well-adjusted to the dark, Elinore could make out the overturned shape, the pieces of wood, and the broken reins where the horses had been. The horse trotted over, his feet light even in the mucky earth. Elinore felt Caleb’s body tense slightly before he shifted and dismounted. He made a ‘come here’ gesture with his hands and she tried to carefully slide out of the saddle and into his waiting arms, her body aching and sore from the trials and tribulations of the night. She stumbled slightly as her feet hit the soft earth and Caleb steadied her.
“You climbed out of that yourself?” Caleb asked, indicating the carriage with his head.
“Yes,” Elinore replied, already moving to the front of the carriage where she knew Thistle must still be trapped. “Thistle? It’s Miss Reed. I’ve returned with assistance.” Elinore crouched down in the mud, resting on her knees before dropping to her hands, trying not to think about the pain in her arm. She bent low, her eyes searching for the driver. She heard a low, quiet sound that could have been the wind in the trees or might have been Thistle. She wasn’t sure.
“He’s trapped under there?” Caleb came to bend down low beside her and she nodded tightly. Her eyes tracked over the wet earth, unsure how much was rain and how much was blood. She saw Caleb’s nose twitch slightly and he too stared down at the ground.
“Thistle,” he called out. “It’s Caleb.”
“Mr. Caleb? Miss Reed?”
Thank God, thought Elinore. She feared she would come back and find the poor man dead. She exhaled a shaky breath. Thistle’s voice was quiet and weak, but he was still alive. Though she was low to the ground and pressed close against the wreckage, she had to strain to hear him.
“I told you I would return with assistance,” Elinore said, smiling as she spoke, hoping to infuse her words with some kindness Thistle would hear. Caleb was moving around, his eyes traveling over the wreckage, presumably trying to ascertain how to get Thistle out.
“So you did, miss. You’re all right? You didn’t have any trouble in the woods.”
“None at all, Thistle,” Elinore lied, glancing up at Caleb, his eyes meeting hers for a moment. He nodded once tersely as though to indicate he would support her words. “As I said, things in the woods are more afraid of us than we of them.”
A wet coughing sound came from Thistle again and Elinore’s stomach clenched at the sound.
“Thank God, miss. I was so worried for you.”
“Thistle, I can see how you’re trapped,” said Caleb. “I’m going to try to move some of this wreck. Miss Reed, if you could move back a bit.”
Elinore scurried backward, dragging the cloaks and her skirts in the mud. Caleb braced his shoulder under a bit of the wreck and pushed up with a mighty heave. To Elinore’s surprise, the carriage moved upward and then off to the side. She heard a pained gasp from Thistle and she clenched and unclenched her fingers - wanting to go forward and help but not wanting to get in the way. She thought at one point that Caleb would have to concede defeat - the carriage was not moving enough to free Thistle. But then, Caleb appeared to double his efforts and the entire thing shifted back a foot. Another wounded sound came from Thistle and Caleb stepped back from the wreck, panting slightly. He bent down low, peering underneath. She could now see Mr. Thistlewaite, pale-faced and features tight with pain.
Elinore scooted forward in time to hear Caleb warn Thistle he was ready to pull him out. Some low words were exchanged between the two men before Caleb reached in and got his arms under Thistle and then in a smooth, strong motion, pulled him out from under the carriage. Thistle cried out as he was freed and Elinore quickly took Caleb’s cloak off and draped it over Thistle, hoping to give the poor man some warmth. She took one of his hands in hers while Caleb moved down to Thistle’s leg, examining it.
“There you are now, Thistle. We’ll have you safe as houses before morning.”
“Thank you, miss. I’m glad to see you’re all right.”
Elinore smiled down at him. “I should be saying that to you.”
Caleb pushed down on a part of Thistle’s leg and he yelped.
“Sorry,” Caleb said lowly. “Broken in at least two places. Maybe crushed. I cannot say. I daresay you’ve broken at least two ribs as well.” Caleb’s head turned sharply toward the woods, his body going tense for a moment before relaxing. Elinore’s eyes searched the foliage, but couldn’t make out anything. Moments later, she heard the sound of horse hoofs and then down the path came three riders. Caleb stood, making his way toward them. The men showed only a casual interest in Elinore - eyes flicking up and down her, then the carriage, and back to Caleb.
One of the men spoke, “Heard the gunshots. What happened?”
“Carriage accident,” said Caleb tersely. “Thistle’s injured.”
The man nodded curtly. “I’ll ride to Haleton and fetch the doctor.”
The other two slid from their horses, securing their weapons to their horses. Elinore couldn’t tear her eyes from them - shotguns, pistols, one had a sword. She recalled her words to Caleb, asking him what he was doing out at night. Hunting, he said. What on earth were they hunting in the pitch black of night? What kind of creature could possibly warrant so many weapons?
Then she remembered the wolf’s yellow eyes, glowing in the dark and the snarling sound it made as it stared at her. She recalled the wolf’s sharp teeth tearing into her arm. How she’d felt so small and vulnerable as it pounced. How even though she shot it, the wolf had still lunged forward to bite her. Perhaps she could see the need for such weapons after all.
Caleb’s voice, low and rough, pulled her from her thoughts. He’d quickly given her name to the men and introduced them just as quickly back, though it all passed over her in a quick blur. He then instructed the men to make a stretcher from the wreckage in order to ferry Thistle back to the manor. Caleb reached down to a part of the carriage that had formerly been the driver’s seat and pulled, leaving Elinore surprised when it gave a
way. It was either ready to break or, once again, Caleb was much stronger than he looked. Leaving the men to their work, Elinore leaned closer to Thistle again.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything to make you comfortable?”
He shook his head slightly, rocking it a bit side to side. His lips and chin were stained with blood, dark red across his face. She wished she had something with which to wipe his face. Reaching down, Elinore tried to find a bit of her dress that wasn’t covered with mud and she dabbed delicately at his chin.
The men made quick work of building a stretcher and in minutes they were ready to move Thistle. Elinore moved out of the way, staying off to the side as they worked. Thistle made an awful keening sound when they moved him onto the stretcher, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. Then, he went suddenly silent. Elinore stepped forward, worried, and Caleb came to her side as the other two men used their belts and some rope to secure him to the stretcher.
“He passed out. From pain or perhaps blood loss. I’ll take you back to the manor while Jonah and Robert take Thistle. They’ll have to go much slower to keep him still.”
Elinore nodded, pulling her wet cloak around her shoulders, shivering in the night. Caleb’s hand came to her back, gently moving her toward his horse. Once again, he boosted her up and she gripped the saddle for purchase. As he set himself behind her, the click of his tongue urging the horse forward seemed loud in her ears. She found comfort in the sturdiness of the horse beneath her and the warmth from Caleb at her side. She wasn’t one for idle chatter and she was grateful this was hardly a situation to require niceties. Caleb seemed just as content as Elinore to ride in silence, the only sound the horses hooves on the soft ground. As Caleb breathed, his exhalations ran across her shoulder and neck - a quick, warm burst of air that disappeared and turned cold each time he inhaled. The moon cast a grey-silver glow on the trees and Elinore could easily imagine how anyone finding themself out late at night would think it the work of fairies. Or perhaps something else.
She was so focused on the forest surrounding them that it took her a moment to realize Caleb had stopped. She looked first to him and then to where his gaze was directed in front of them. Ahead on the path, a large iron gate loomed, surrounded by a low stone wall. Up high on the ironwork were small blurs of shape. As she squinted in the darkness, Elinore realized what they were. Birds. Ravens.
“Ravenwood,” Caleb said, his voice gruff and deep.
He clicked his tongue again and the horse started forward. Caleb slid off the horse and pushed at the iron gates, the hinges giving a low groan in protestation as they swung open, slowly, burdened by their weight. Elinore clutched at the saddle, finding her balance not as steady without Caleb behind her. He didn’t mount again, instead coming to the front of the horse and taking the reins, leading them up the path. Looking ahead, into the darkness, all Elinore could make out of the house was a shape - dark, large, looming. Flickering lights hovered in what where presumably the windows, but from this distance Elinore couldn’t be sure if it was lights that she saw, or ghostly spirits lingering around the manor. She’d perhaps always had too fanciful a soul and as she stood there, transfixed by the estate in front of her, she suddenly wished she hadn’t read so many Penny Dreadfuls. She’d always been drawn to them because they seemed to echo the strange and unusual thoughts that were already living in her mind, but now they turned her mind against her. Stories and thoughts of creatures, of dark shadows creeping across the floor, of sounds in the woodwork, of prophecies and lore, raced in her brain. Ravenwood seemed as though it was from another realm - only coming into this reality on a night like tonight - foggy, stormy and with a full moon. Elinore could hear her mother’s voice in her ears, blaming Elinore’s nightmares on the types of things she chose to read, but Elinore knew the truth - those things were already there, creeping in Elinore’s skull, waiting to be let out.
The manor looked stark and cold. Even from the distance, Elinore found it austere and barren. No greenery surrounded the entrances; the trees that should have sprung up along the sides had long since been cut back. Though the light of the moon was strong, the manor seemed to suck it from the air, like juice from a sweet fruit, turning the building dark and hollow.
The entrance was dominated by a set of large double doors with a crest on each one. Elinore could make out the shape of more ravens, similar to those on the iron gates. It was too dark for her to read the family motto and her Latin left much to be desired anyway - much to the dismay of her late father who had forever tried to teach her.
As they approached the door, it opened, silently and smoothly, leaving the doorway dark and empty. Elinore had a notion the house itself had commanded the door open. Then, out of the depths came an older woman, the housekeeper no doubt, bearing a lamp held aloft in her white-knuckled fingers. Caleb stepped close to the horse, his arms reaching out for Elinore and she slid off the saddle, a jolt of pain shooting through her arm when her feet hit the ground. They made their way up the steps, Caleb’s hand on her elbow.
“You’ve returned so soon,” the housekeeper said, her voice somewhat roughened with age.
“Has my uncle returned?”
The housekeeper shook her head, eyes moving over Elinore in slight question. Caleb nodded once at her answer, as if expecting the news. “This is Miss Reed, expected with Thistle from Haleton. They had an accident on the way back from the train station and their carriage was overturned. Jonah and Robert are on their way with Thistle. He’s been badly injured. Paul’s gone to fetch the doctor.” He paused for a moment and Elinore felt his hand tighten briefly on her elbow. “Miss Reed was bitten.”
The housekeeper’s eyes went wide, her lips thin and tight. Her gaze darted to Elinore and Elinore had the strange feeling like she should apologize for being set upon by a beast in the woods.
“I see,” the housekeeper said stiffly. She smiled at Elinore, the sentiment not quite reaching her eyes. “Come, dear. Let’s get you settled and I shall make a poultice for your wounds.”
Caleb’s hand on her elbow directed Elinore to enter the manor. She hesitated crossing the threshold, feeling as though that one last step would sever her from the life she knew before.
“Mrs. Davenport will take care of you,” Caleb said, his voice low next to Elinore’s ear.
The housekeeper reached forward, beckoning Elinore into the house.
“Yes, of course,” Elinore replied. She hardly heard her own words, so soft was her voice.
“You must be quite overcome from the night.” Up close, Elinore could see the brilliance of Mrs. Davenport’s eyes - a sharp blue framed by the redness and glassiness that often accompanies age. She smiled again, this time her eyes going soft and kind. Her eyes travelled over Elinore and she saw the moment Mrs. Davenport’s gaze reached her arm. “Oh, my,” she whispered. Elinore tucked her bitten arm back under the cloak. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
Elinore turned to look at Caleb once more. He stood still outside the front door appearing to have no intention of coming inside.
“I will fetch my uncle,” he said and Mrs. Davenport nodded. Something exchanged between the two of them before Caleb turned to head back outside, pulling the front door shut behind him.
Mrs. Davenport drew Elinore close, coming along her side. “Now, Miss Reed, let us get you upstairs and we can see to getting you warm and dry.” She moved forward, taking the lamp with her. The idea of being left alone was enough to have Elinore find her footing and start after her. There were still several lights lit in the foyer, showing a grand entrance that led to an even grander staircase. There seemed to be some activity about - darts of movement out of the corner of her eye. Possibly waiting for the men to come back from their night’s journey, Elinore thought.
Their night’s hunting. What could possibly be hunted so late at night?
Mrs. Davenport seemed to think nothing of being up so late and she continued to speak, her tone warm as she led Elinore to the
stairs. “Of course we were expecting your arrival, though I daresay not under such circumstances. I’ve got a room made up for you and I’ll have some hot water brought up. I’ll see if we can find you a gown and then I shall take a look at your… injury.”
Now that she wasn’t moving, trudging along through the forest following Caleb, Elinore could feel the chill settling deep in her bones, causing her shoulder to ache more and her body to shiver. Mrs. Davenport, though she looked frail, wrapped a strong arm around Elinore to guide her. Elinore’s teeth chattered with the chill and she nodded.
“This is not a night for anyone to be out. I wish Mr. Hayter hadn’t requested you be brought tonight.” They started up the long staircase and though there were lamps lit along the way, the staircase was so massive that each step was only illuminated by Mrs. Davenport’s lamp as they reached it. Elinore had the sudden, incredible thought that there was nothing at all in front of her except for floating stairs and once the stairs ended, she would reach the top and find there was no floor in existence, only a perilous drop to the marble floor below. Mrs. Davenport kept her arm around Elinore’s shoulder as they climbed, the only thing only thing keeping her grounded. At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Davenport led her down a darkened hallway, pausing as they went for the housekeeper to light some of the wall sconces. Elinore was surrounded by stone and wood. Perhaps it was because it was dark, or perhaps it was because of the night she’d had, but Elinore felt the manor pressing in on her. The housekeeper stopped in front of a closed door and paused only long enough to unlock it with a set of jangling keys kept on her waist.
“Here we are now, my dear.” She bustled into the room, lighting a few candles and Elinore was struck by how fine the room was. She’d never had such a space before. It seemed almost cavernous. There was a large bed against the wall with a towering armoire standing guard next to it. Heedless of the grandeur, Mrs. Davenport set her candle down and opened the armoire with a flourish, pulling out a long robe.
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