“Miss Reed?”
Elinore startled at the voice, knocking over the inkwell, spilling black ink over the remaining parchment. She fruitlessly cast about for something to use to start soaking up the ink but found nothing. Fortunately, the owner of the voice, a small slip of a girl, rushed forward, pulling a large kerchief out of her pocket and using it to sop up the mess.
“I’m sorry for startling you.”
She seemed painfully hesitant, as though she expected Elinore to start screaming at her or calling out harsh words. “No, not at all,” replied Elinore, trying to move the rest of the paper out of the way and setting the inkwell to rights as the girl cleaned up her mess. “I’m the one that knocked it over.”
The young girl was visibly relieved as she folded up the ruined kerchief and the two of them stared down at their ink stained hands. They shared a glance and when Elinore laughed, the young girl did too. She was obviously younger than Elinore, smaller too, but already had the look of a woman about her. Elinore would guess her to be about fourteen or fifteen. Her eyes were lovely shade of dark amber and her hair seemed on the brink of escaping its messy bun. Her face was pretty, open and bright as they compared their ink-stained hands.
“I’m afraid this might not come off our hands very quickly,” Elinore said, still sharing a smile with the girl.
“I’m used to being covered in ink. Or charcoal. Or rather a number of things.”
“Really?” asked Elinore.
“Goodness, I should introduce myself. I’m Alice. Alice Thistlewaite. You were in the carriage with my father last night.”
“Oh, Alice!” Elinore exclaimed. “Oh, I’m so glad to meet you. Your father spoke of you before… well, before our accident and I was looking forward to making your acquaintance.”
Alice seemed embarrassed by Elinore’s words and blushed. “Thank you, miss. That’s kind of you to say.”
“I believe it is one of your dresses I’m wearing. Thank you so much for the loan.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Well, perhaps not to you, but I’m quite grateful to not be wearing a rain-soaked gown this morning. How is your father? I heard the doctor was here and said he’ll be laid up for a while.”
“Yes, miss. I’ve been sitting with him for all of today.”
It was only at her words that Elinore realized outside the window, the sun was starting its long path down for the night. She knew her day would be short, having only awoken for lunch, and she’d taken time to write Charlotte’s letter, but she was surprised at how much time she must have lost writing about her dream. It must be close to supper-time already and she’d barely seen anything of the manor during her first day.
Alice continued speaking of Thistle. “He’s awake for brief moments, but then the pain medicine the doctor left puts him right back out.”
“I’m sorry he was so badly injured, but it’s good to hear he’ll recover.”
“He asked after you and wanted to thank you for going off to find help.” Alice’s eyes went dark with worry, glancing down to Elinore’s bandages. “He doesn’t know you were bitten. We’ve not had the heart to tell him.”
“Oh, well. Mrs. Davenport assures me I’ll be set to rights very shortly. It’s hardly worth troubling your father about it.”
“I see Mrs. Davenport has made you some of her poultice.” Alice nodded firmly to herself. “It’s good that she was able to treat it early.”
“I hear there are no rabid creatures around Ravenwood,” Elinore said. By Alice’s expression and her tone, Elinore was wondering if she’d been lied to, if only for her own assurance.
“No,” Alice agreed. “Ravenwood has no… rabid animals.”
“Mister Vollmond, the younger Vollmond, that is, my cousin Caleb, told me he and his men are going out hunting for the wolf.”
“The Misters Vollmond have been searching for sometime,” Alice said carefully. Her eyes were drawn back to the desk upon which Elinore had been working earlier and before Elinore could tidy up her papers, Alice had picked one up and was reading it.
“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s only… I was merely scribbling some thoughts down,” Elinore began, seeing that Alice had picked up one of the sheets of paper on which Elinore had written of her dream.
Alice’s eyes travelled back and forth over the page, consuming the words. “Did you write this?” she asked, looking up at Elinore with large eyes.
“Yes, I… I write. Sometimes,” Elinore fibbed, for truly it wasn’t something she only did once in a while. It was a near constant habit. “They are just musings and notes. Usually only my friend Charlotte sees them.”
Alice’s eyes went back to the paper, reading over the words. “This is … would you let me draw this?”
Elinore blinked at her. “You sketch?”
“Sometimes,” Alice said and Elinore could hear her own tone echoed back to her in Alice’s - the shy, somewhat protective voice of someone whose work was quite dear to them. Alice likely feared censure the same way Elinore did.
“I should be flattered and honored if you would sketch something for me.”
“Have you more? Writings, that is?”
Elinore nodded. “Not with me, as of yet. The remainder of my belongings are on the way to Ravenwood, but yes. I have more. Would you like to see them?”
It was Alice’s turn to nod, her bun bobbing up and down with strands of ebony hair falling loose as it did. “Oh yes, miss. I would love that.”
“Oh, you can’t keep calling me ‘miss.’ Not if we’re going to share our artistic endeavors. You must call me Elinore.”
Alice’s smile was wide and bright. “Thank you. Elinore,” Alice repeated, trying her name out. “I hope we shall be good friends.”
“I hope so too.”
Chapter Six
Elinore could hardly believe her luck when she found out that Alice shared a love of the same reading materials as herself - gothic mysteries, haunting stories, epic romances and mythological tales. Most young ladies were happy reading poetry or drab love stories, but Alice was a girl after Elinore’s own heart, or book collection as it were.
“Have you read ‘A Long and Terrible Winter’ by the Count d’Osray?” Elinore asked.
“No, I’ve not,” exclaimed Alice. “But I’m in love with the title already.”
“Once the rest of my belongings arrive that should be the very first book you read. I can still remember how my heart pounded reading it. The heroine is of fae heritage and she finds herself lost from her world and having to survive in another.” Elinore sighed. “Oh, I stayed up for hours reading. My eyes were like two slits the next day.”
Alice laughed. “I’ve done that before as well! I’m always trying to hide the lamp from my mother, but it’s impossible to hide it fully. Not without setting the entire bed chamber on fire.”
Alice had shown Elinore a small hidden drawer in the desk where she stored some of her drawings along with some charcoal and ink.
“I keep them here because Mr. Vollmond, the elder Mr. Vollmond, I mean, never looks in here. He prefers to do his work in his den.”
“Why do you hide them?”
Alice fiddled with one of her pencils. “Mr. Vollmond doesn’t like it when we aren’t at our duties. I help my mother in the kitchen and sometimes Mrs. Davenport with the manor and other times the maids with the chores. But, if Mr. Vollmond thought I had spare time, he’d find something for me to do.”
Elinore nodded. “I see. Well, I shall keep your secret and your drawings safe.”
“You could keep your writing here as well, if you like. As I said, he manly works in his den.” Alice wrinkled her nose a bit.
“What’s wrong with the den?”
“It’s,” Alice’s eyes darted around a bit. “There are animals in there. Dead ones hanging from the walls. Statues. Stuffed with cotton and fabric. They watch you. It’s dreadful.”
Elinore leaned in closer, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “Perhaps s
ome of them are haunted and shall come to life one of these days and roam around the manor looking for the remainder of their innards.” She laughed at her own overly dramatic tone, but Alice instead looked horrified. Elinore’s amusement died out. “I’m just being silly, of course.”
“Of course,” Alice repeated. “It’s just… they’re horrid, those animals. I daresay I wouldn’t sleep a wink if I thought they could come to life.”
“I’m sorry, it was a thoughtless joke. Think no more of it.” Elinore paged through some of Alice’s drawings, taking time to examine each one carefully. Alice was greatly talented. There were many drawings of the trees outside the window and in different seasons - full of leaves in summer and bare branches in winter. They were gorgeous and she said as much, trying to raise the girl’s spirits.
Alice blushed. “I’m rather fond of sketching. Oh! That’s one of the animals from Mr. Vollmond’s study,” Alice exclaimed as Elinore flipped the page over. It was a sketching of a great stag’s head - large, with impossibly huge antlers. “I see it sometimes, when the door is open. I could not do it justice, I’m afraid. I am loathe to stare at it for too long.” Alice lowered her voice to a whisper, “I swear though it’s goodly dead, it watches you back.”
“I’m sure if either of us were trapped in one of our novels, we’d shriek and faint dead away,” Elinore said. “They’re only enjoyable when you are safe and warm in your own bed with a glass of warm milk to help you sleep.” Thinking back to the night before when she’d been in the woods alone and afraid, Elinore knew the truth of her words. It was all fine and good to read of adventure and mystery, but it was quite another thing to be in the midst of it oneself.
“We’re lucky to have the books we do here. He collects them, but the elder Mr. Vollmond does not care for them at all. I’ve never seen him read. Not one!” Alice said the words as though they were scandalous. They ought to be, thought Elinore. The idea of being surrounded by all these books and not picking up one was nearly unthinkable. Although when she tried to picture her uncle reclining with a book, she found it difficult. He was too… predatory, she thought, to be satisfied with something so domesticated.
“And Mr. Vollmond the younger, does he read?” Elinore asked, thinking of her cousin.
“Caleb?” Alice queried, as though there was a myriad of Vollmond men in the house and she had to be sure she speaking of the correct one. “Yes, he’s often in here reading. He lets me stay in here and sketch even when he’s reading or working. He once brought me a new set of charcoals when he saw I was almost out.” Alice sighed. “He’s more like his father was. Not at all like Mr. Vollmond the elder.”
“I didn’t realize you knew the rest of the family.”
“I’ve lived at Ravenwood all my life and my parents worked for Mr. Caleb’s parents. When they died…” Alice’s expression went far away and sad. “Mr. Hayter came to take over the estate. It’s not been the same since.”
Elinore frowned, confused by something. “Was Caleb so young he could not take over the estate at his parents’ death?”
Alice looked anxious, as though Elinore had asked her a very improper question. Perhaps she had. Elinore was not sure of the etiquette of the manor and perhaps Alice thought her quite rude for asking so openly about the inheritance of it.
“The Vollmond Estate doesn’t always pass from father to son the same way other estates do.”
“I see,” replied Elinore, though she did not. She wanted to press the issue further and ask what Alice meant, but the poor girl was wringing her pencil between her hands so hard, it could snap at any moment. She clearly didn’t want to continue the discussion. Elinore paged through more of Alice’s drawings, coming across an incredible portrait of Caleb. “Oh. This is extraordinary,” she said, noting Alice’s work.
“He’s shockingly handsome, isn’t he?”
Elinore laughed, her nerves bursting forth in a rush. “Alice!”
“Well, he is!” Alice asserted, her anxiety dissipating at the new topic. “You’ve got eyes, you’ve seen him.”
“He’s very well blessed indeed,” Elinore managed, thinking of Caleb’s dark good looks. “Last night, in the forest when I was searching for help for your father, I half thought he was an apparition or some dark fairy appeared in the night. He startled me quite badly, coming out of the forest as he did.” She looked down at her bandaged arm. The heat from the bite marks was extraordinary, although she herself didn’t feel feverish. She touched light fingertips to her arm and could feel the warmth emanating from the wounds. When she thought about what could have happened to her out in the woods, she felt a little sick. “I’m quite fortunate I only suffered minor injuries.” Elinore looked up and caught Alice’s thoughtful and grave expression.
“It’s… unfortunate that you were bitten.” Alice’s hand reached out for a moment as though she would touch Elinore, but at the last moment she pulled her hand back. “And you feel quite all right?”
“Yes,” Elinore answered. “I was thrown about when the carriage turned over and I’m a little sore today, but certainly nothing time won’t cure.”
Alice smiled. “I’m glad. Mrs. Davenport will put another poultice on tonight. Perhaps a third tomorrow and then you should be all right.” She fixed Elinore with a fierce look. “I’m sure the Mr. Vollmonds warned you about going off the estate properly, did they not?”
Elinore nodded. “Yes, Caleb mentioned it before he set off hunting today.”
Alice seemed pleased by Elinore’s assertion. “The entire household will rest better once they track that wolf down.”
“Has it been in the area long? I admit I know hardly anything of wolves. I gather this one has been causing trouble?”
Alice fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “Yes. There’ve been several… incidents with some of the farm animals. And one of the horses.” Alice’s voice was soft and quiet, her tone causing Elinore to lean in closer. “We’re not to go off the estate lands. Not at night and certainly not when the moon is full. My father was quite distressed to find out you were scheduled to arrive last night. He wanted to say something to Mr. Vollmond the elder, but… Mr. Hayter does not like to be contradicted.”
Elinore knew this was often the way of the world, and was grateful Thistle had come to fetch her in town, but it still made her heart sink to think that Hayter had forced poor Thistle out last night.
“Why the full moon?” Elinore queried, her mind stuck on that one detail.
Alice’s eyes darted off to the side and she shuffled through some of her artwork. “I beg your pardon?”
“You said, ‘certainly not when the moon is full.’ Why should that make a difference?”
“It makes the animals restless. Always has.” Alice smiled, but it looked forced and tight on her face. “You likely think it simply a country superstition, but we’ve always stayed in on the full moons.”
It did seem rather superstitious to Elinore, but she had been born and bred in the city and had nothing to which to compare it. “Well, that shouldn’t be hard to abide by. While I enjoy a walk out doors, I’m certainly not one to go traipsing about at night. We are allowed to go out by day, yes?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, if you should like to go for a walk tomorrow, I would be happy to join you.” Alice’s eyes darted over to the clock in the corner. “I should return to my father. One of the other servants has to sit with him when my mother leaves to prepare meals. Dinner is usually up in an hour, so she’s likely already at it.”
Elinore realized that although she’d had quite a lot to eat at lunch, she was famished. The idea of waiting an hour for dinner seemed terribly long. “Of course. It was so good to meet you, Alice.”
“And you as well.” Alice hesitated, her fingers coming out to touch lightly on some of Elinore’s papers. “Your writings… may I take them with me? I would like to try sketching something from them tonight.”
She meant the scribblings of Elinore’s dream, that of a wolf, a raven and tre
es. Elinore wanted to steal the papers back and hide them away - the memory of the dream left her unsettled and leery. Instead she managed a smile and handed the papers to Alice.
“I would be honored. I can’t wait to see what you render.”
Alice smiled, her shoulders coming up by her ears as she did. “Thank you.” In an impetuous motion she lurched forward and gave Elinore a fierce hug. Feeling as though she’d found a new friend in a place that was so unknown and foreign to her made tears spring up in Elinore’s eyes.
“Until the morrow.” Alice gave a bob and a curtsey.
Elinore inclined her head. “Tomorrow.”
Once again alone in the library, Elinore was drawn to the bookshelves. She hardly knew where to begin. She tipped her head to the side, reading the spines of the books. She finally decided on one of the books on Greek mythology. Pulling the heavy tome from the shelf, she settled herself in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the fire (to which she added a few logs) and settled in to read until called for dinner.
Elinore became engrossed in the myths written out in the book. While she was familiar with the most popular of tales from mythology - those of Zeus and the other Olympians, some were strange and exotic to her. She could see why such a tale would have been kept from young ladies. King Minos’ wife, Pasiphae, was bespelled to fall in love with an animal and then take it as a mate. Elinore’s eyes darted around the room as she read, certain that someone would pop out of the woodwork and scold her for reading such a lurid tale. She hunched over the book protectively, as though she could hide what she was reading. She even went so far as to wonder if she should take another book from the shelf, a respectable, reputable book, and have it near her should someone ask what she was reading. Elinore’s eyes widened as they roved the pages, reading as Pasiphae shockingly pursued the bull and then had a child by it.
Ravenwood Page 8
