“I know it’s not the same as having your own things, but this dressing gown will keep you warm enough while I see if one of the servant girls has something to loan you. I hope a lady such as yourself won’t mind borrowing from the girls.” She pulled a long tassel next to the bed and Elinore heard the faint ringing of a bell from elsewhere in the house - no doubt alerting the other servants.
Elinore shook her head. “No, ma’am, I should be grateful for anything dry and warm.”
“Listen to you, calling me ma’am,” Mrs. Davenport said with a smile, seeming amused at Elinore’s words. “Come now, let’s get you out of your dress and see if it can be salvaged.”
It took some work getting Elinore out of her wet dress and underthings. Mrs. Davenport had to unwrap the handkerchief Caleb had tied around her arm and Elinore feared the wounds would start bleeding again. Pulling her dress away from her skin, Elinore could see puncture marks from where the wolf’s teeth broke the flesh. Her arm was puffy and hot to the touch - feeling tender and raw. Mrs. Davenport’s lips went thin and tight again, her eyes roving over the wounds even as she worked to help Elinore out of her gown. She realized Elinore was staring at her and curled her lips in a small smile, tutting at the state of Elinore’s dress.
“I might be able to mend this or we can have it sent out if you like.”
Elinore nodded dumbly as Mrs. Davenport then helped her into the dressing robe, cinching the belt tightly for her. There was a sharp, perfunctory knock at the door and the sound startled Elinore, making her shiver.
“That’ll be one of the maids. I’ll send for some clothing and some hot tea. Maybe a bite to eat?”
“No, thank you. Just the tea, Mrs. Davenport,” Elinore managed to say, clutching the gown close. She sagged against the bed, not having the energy to push herself onto it. She heard Mrs. Davenport speaking to someone at the door and then she was back a moment later, pushing the sleeve of the robe back and exposing the bite marks again.
“How long ago were you bitten, dear?”
Elinore frowned. “Oh, I don’t know. The night is quite a blur.”
Mrs. Davenport made a low ‘hmmm’ sound. “Would you say an hour? Two?”
Elinore couldn’t see why it mattered, but she had good enough upbringing to give the question some thought and a truthful answer. “Perhaps a little more than an hour. Less than two, I should think.”
The housekeeper touched the area around one of the puncture marks and Elinore flinched with pain. She rotated Elinore’s arm, checking the underside and then pushed the sleeve of the robe up higher, feeling along the length of Elinore’s arm. A horrible thought wormed its way into Elinore’s mind as she watched the careful examination.
“Do you fear infection or… madness?” Elinore knew of such animal bites and couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. She’d been attacked by some kind of animal in the woods. Of course Caleb and Mrs. Davenport were concerned - they likely feared she’d been infected and would go mad.
Mrs. Davenport smiled again - her features were sharp and brittle. She patted Elinore’s hand. “Not to worry, my dear. We’ve not had trouble of rabid animals around Ravenwood in many years.”
“Is that why the men were out hunting so late at night?” Elinore asked, wondering if the local populace had taken it upon themselves to keep the area free of vermin and infected animals.
“Just so.” Mrs. Davenport smoothed her hands over her dress. “I’ll have one of the maids come in and start a fire. Why don’t you have a seat over by the fireplace so you can warm up when she does. I’ll be back with something for you to sleep in and something for your arm.”
Elinore nodded tightly and pushed herself to her feet, taking the few steps to the large chair by the fireplace. She sunk down into the chair, clutching the robe around her more tightly as Mrs. Davenport left the room. True to the housekeeper’s words, not minutes later, a young maid came in and gave Elinore a quick curtsey. Elinore managed another curt nod and the girl made quick work of lighting the fire in the already prepared hearth. She looked so young - her face pale and open. She curtseyed again on her way out and Elinore murmured some thanks. Watching the maid leave, Elinore wondered if people saw her the way she saw the maid - painfully young.
The warmth of the fire spread blissfully over her and Elinore shivered, feeling like with each tremor the cold was escaping her body - or perhaps being pursued out, chased away by the heat. She pulled the sleeve of the robe gingerly away from her arm, staring down at the bite again in the firelight. Mrs. Davenport had said not to worry, however that was all Elinore could do. She knew hardly anything about the madness caused from animal bites except for hushed words and half-heard conversations. Such things were not discussed in the presence of young ladies of her station. However, there were allusions to animal madness in the books she and Charlotte snuck into their houses and read - horrific tales of men and women gone insane - turned feral by the bite of a sick creature. Would that be Elinore’s fate?
Mrs. Davenport came back into the room in a burst of energy, carrying a small tray and a nightgown draped over one of her arms.
Just as quickly and efficiently as she had gotten Elinore out of her ruined gown and into the dressing robe, Mrs. Davenport put Elinore into the nightgown. The nightgown was worn and soft against Elinore’s skin - likely someone’s favorite sleeping gown judging from the smooth feel of the cotton. The housekeeper bade Elinore sit back down in the chair and then pulled up the ottoman for herself, setting her tray down on a small stand next to the fire. She handed Elinore the empty tea cup from the tray and then poured a liberal helping of tea.
“There’s a little something in there to soothe your nerves after a night like tonight,” she said when Elinore sniffed the tea lightly. “A nip of brandy to help you sleep.”
The liquor mixed well with the tea blend - something sweetly spicy and dark, like nothing she’d ever tasted before. It burned slightly on the way down, but it was a warm, comforting feeling as it settled into her stomach. Elinore eyed the rest of the tray carefully. She saw several vials and jars - none of which looked familiar. Having only recently assisted in nursing both her parents while ill, Elinore had become well-acquainted with the medicines and implements of doctors and she recognized nothing on Mrs. Davenport’s tray. Mrs. Davenport chatted aimlessly as she started mixing together some of the ingredients from various containers. She was sure Elinore would sleep like a log tonight. She was sure all of Elinore’s things would be brought to the manor as soon as they could be retrieved from the carriage. She was so sorry to hear of Elinore’s parents. It was so lovely to have another lady in the house, she was sure Elinore would be happy at Ravenwood. She was sure of a lot of things.
A vile smell arose from the mixture, burning Elinore’s nose and causing her eyes to water.
“I daresay it smells like it was dragged from the depths themselves, but it’s just the thing for your arm,” Mrs. Davenport said as she mixed the items together into a thick paste. She took Elinore’s arm and then scooped up some of the mixture on a silver spoon, pausing slightly. “I’m afraid this will burn a bit, dear, but you look like a strong lass and I ask you to stay still.” She waited, looking at Elinore for some kind of response. Elinore nodded, setting her now empty teacup down. Using the spoon, Mrs. Davenport spread the mixture over the bite marks. It burned like fire and Elinore clenched her teeth, working hard at staying perfectly still. Mrs. Davenport pressed the back of the spoon into each of the puncture marks carefully, happy when Elinore didn’t pull away. “That’s a good lass.” She spread an even layer over Elinore’s forearm and then took another one of the vials and sprinkled a shimmery substance over the areas where the puncture marks were deepest. Elinore’s arm felt hot and the wounds burned sharply. Taking several long strips of cotton, Mrs. Davenport wrapped the arm tightly, tying the ends off. As she worked, she continued to chatter on about how she was glad Elinore was safely in the manor now and Mrs. Davenport was sure she’d t
ake to Ravenwood. Her tone was soothing and low. Finally, her hands dropped from Elinore and she said, “You poor thing. Let’s get you to bed.”
Mrs. Davenport assisted her to bed, pulling back the covers for her and then tucking her in, much like a child. The kindness of the gesture brought tears to her eyes and Elinore’s throat was tight as she spoke her thanks. Mrs. Davenport clucked like a mother hen, smoothing back Elinore’s hair and telling her to have a good sleep. She gathered up her tray with its strange vials and ingredients and then snuffed all but one of the lights in the room on her way out.
Finally alone and in the dark, the stress of the trip, the accident and her struggle in the forest finally caught up to her. Elinore’s breath hitched in her chest. Had she really gone off in the woods, by herself, armed with only a pistol? What sort of wolf was it that she had seen? What lived in the forest around Ravenwood? Would Mr. Thistlewaite, with his kind words and gentle manner, be all right? What were Caleb and the other men out in the woods hunting so late at night? The wolf? Why?
Oh, how Elinore missed her parents and Charlotte and her small, comfortable room back at her old house. This large, foreboding manor with its dark hallways and looming presence was to be her home now. Her arm throbbed and a few tears escaped her eyes. She dashed them away quickly. It had been a terribly long week capped off by a dreadful night. She was warm, dry and safe now. Poor Mr. Thistlewaite was in dire straights and Elinore would not waste tears worrying about herself. Mrs. Davenport seemed to think there was no reason to be concerned. She took some calming breaths, sniffling to herself slightly as she got her feelings under control.
Just before she sleep pulled her under, she thought she heard a wolf howl in the night and her heart lurched at the sound.
Chapter Four
Elinore dreamed of the forest.
Wandering through the trees, she looked down and saw her bare feet sinking into the mud and moss of the forest floor. There was no path through these woods, no indicators to show her the well-travelled way, no worn markings to lead her home, wherever that may be. The tops of her feet were ghostly white against the ground even as they became covered in mud and muck.
She wore Caleb’s cloak and it lay heavily across her shoulders, dragging on the ground with each tentative step she took. She was lost. Lost in the forest.
Elinore looked up, eyes squinting at the harsh glare of the full moon. A trembling fear crept into her stomach, even as at the same time, a deep longing pulled at her heart. As she stared at the glowing orb, she wanted to run away from it, she wanted to run toward it and in that moment, she was trapped. She paused as she heard the sound of a creature growling in the forest, at her back. The way before her was dark, but the way behind her was blocked. Her father’s Latin lessons tickled her brain and she heard the words in her mind. A fronte praecipitium, a tergo lupi. A cliff ahead, wolves behind. There was nowhere to run.
She closed her eyes and let the moonlight wash over her, swaying slightly. The wind made the trees rustle and Elinore heard the sound of nighttime creatures quietly working their way through the woods, heedless of the unknown growling.
She opened her eyes at a low croak above her. In the dark, the trees seemed alive as they moved and swayed in the wind. Her eyes were sharp, sharper than they’d ever been and she could see the cause of the croak, perched on a branch far ahead. A raven. It croaked again and then flitted down, landing on a branch in front of her, watching. While the moonlight was bright, it wasn’t nearly bright enough to make out the eyes of the bird from this distance. Elinore only had a sense of where the pupils should be as it examined her.
Leaves crunched and twigs snapped. There was still something else in the woods, something else between the trees, steadily making its way toward her. If she listened carefully, she could hear not only the soft tread of footfalls on the ground, but also the low sound of a creature breathing, the thud of its heart growing louder as it moved, louder as it crept toward her. A wolf. She was afraid and yet she could not, did not run.
Elinore turned and saw movement in the foliage. Her heart pounded. Sharp pain from her arm made her look down to see the teeth marks sunk into her flesh, black blood oozing from gaping wounds. A low snarl came from woods, the sound burrowing into Elinore’s chest and coiling in her stomach, heavy and dense. She looked back into the trees and saw a pale flicker of white fur. Elinore stepped backward, the ground cold and wet under her bare feet. The raven croaked again, from behind her, its wings flapping as it moved from one branch, to another and then landed on Elinore’s shoulder. Its wings shirred and flapped and it let loose its awful croak again, sharp and piercing in her ear. Its claws dug into the cloak, breaking through the fabric and scratching against her skin. More blood oozed from her arm as the raven’s talons pinched hard and unyielding against her flesh.
Two yellow eyes watched her from the trees. Unblinking.
Elinore felt the wings of the raven brush against her skin, making her shiver. The raven dragged its beak against the soft, vulnerable skin of her throat and she stilled, thinking of the sharply pointed end so close to her veins. Its clawed feet flexed, each one digging into her. It moved its beak to her ear and a quiet whispering sound came from it, as though it was telling her a secret. Elinore could not understand and felt only the impression or inkling of words. In the foliage, the wolf’s eyes moved, not coming any closer, not moving any further away - drifting behind the leaves and the branches - yellow and gold, pupils watching Elinore.
The raven whispered again - a rustle of sound and breath against the shell of Elinore’s ear. The wolf growled, long and rumbling. Elinore felt pinned between the two creatures - one on her shoulder and one circling her. All the time, the latin phrase running through her mind.
A fronte praecipitium, a tergo lupi. A cliff ahead, wolves behind.
Elinore woke to a gentle tapping that pulled her from her sleep. Confused, she looked around the room, not recognizing it in the light of day. At once, the memory of the previous night returned. The carriage accident, the forest, Ravenwood. A strange dream of a bird and creatures in the woods.
“Miss Reed?” came a voice through the doorway and Elinore recognized it as that of the housekeeper, Mrs. Davenport. Elinore bid her to enter, attempting to sit up in bed. Her entire body was stiff and sore, most notably her arm. She touched the bandage gingerly, recalling the wounds beneath. She had a sudden notion if she pushed too hard against the cotton, black blood would ooze out, like her dream, and stain the pristine white fabric.
“You best leave that alone, dear,” Mrs. Davenport admonished as she came in bearing a tray with a pot of tea on it. “I’ll have to redress it tonight, but for now you must be careful.”
Elinore pulled her fingers back, feeling like a scolded child. “Yes, of course. I only thought… it feels so hot, and… tender. Almost … swollen perhaps?”
Mrs. Davenport’s smile was tight, the skin around her eyes not crinkling like it should with such the smile that curved her lips. “All to be expected. You had quite an injury, but the poultice will take care of it, rest easy.”
Mrs. Davenport set the tray down on the nightstand, pouring a cup of tea.
“What time is it?” Elinore asked as Mrs. Davenport pulled the curtains back further, letting in the daylight. It burned against Elinore’s eyes and she squinted, raising a hand to shade them.
A quick stab of shame sliced through her. Elinore had never been one to sleep late, though she supposed Mrs. Davenport was correct - last night had been an ordeal. She fixed her tea with a spot of milk, taking a long drink. No brandy in this tea, although it was the same spicy blend as before. It was a deep amber color in the pot, rich and smooth on her tongue.
“Is there any news on Mr. Thistlewaite?” Elinore asked, afraid for what the answer may be.
This time when Mrs. Davenport smiled, it reached her eyes, her face soft and kindly. “Yes, the doctor arrived from Haleton last night and said he should make a full recovery, though he’ll b
e quite laid up for a while. His leg’s broke in two places and he suffered a terrible blow to the head. He also has two broken ribs. He’s only been conscious for small spells since he was brought home and he was right concerned about you. He thinks you’re a bit of an angel, I suppose, going off into the woods on such a night to get him assistance.”
“I feared for his life and could not rest idly by if there was something to be done.” Again her fingers drifted to the bandage over the bite mark, recalling the snap of the wolf’s jaw as it closed over her arm. She didn’t regret going for help in the woods despite the attack of the wolf. Her firing the gun had brought Caleb to her, and then Thistle’s, assistance. She felt hot suddenly and wished to throw back the covers, feeling stifled by the weigh of them.
“Now,” Mrs. Davenport said, her tone going brisk. “I’ve a gown from one of the serving girls that you can borrow. Mr. Caleb has sent some men out to get your things from the wreckage. I daresay I’m not sure what kind of a state they’ll be in when they arrive. But don’t you worry,” she continued, quickly taking Elinore’s hand from where she was worrying the bandages and clasping it between her own. “We’ll get it all to rights. If you feel up to it, lunch is being served in the dining room. I’m no lady’s maid and none of the girls have much experience either. It’s been too long since Mrs. Vollmond, your Aunt Victoria, passed and we’ve gotten out of the habit. But I’m sure I could assist you in getting ready.”
“I would appreciate any assistance you offer, Mrs. Davenport. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to do much on account of my arm.”
Mrs. Davenport straightened up with a smile, patting Elinore’s hand. “Well, it’s been a few years, but I imagine I can do a fair braid. Let’s get you up for the day.”
Mrs. Davenport was the picture of efficiency, getting Elinore dressed and assisting with her hair quickly and without fanfare. The gown was plain and simple and Mrs. Davenport tutted over it, saying she was sure that Elinore was used to finer things. It was too small in the shoulders, too short by five inches and slightly too large in the bust area. The owner must be slightly smaller in stature than Elinore but better endowed.
Ravenwood Page 5
