Ravenwood

by Margaux Gillis

  “It was nice to meet you,” Elinore called out, even as they disappeared around a corner. Well. It wasn’t a spectacular start, but it was neither a horrid failure. With a sigh, she continued her way downstairs.

  Upon the stairs, Elinore could smell fresh baked bread and perhaps eggs and meat. Her stomach growled loudly and she had to resist the urge to race down the stairs and rush to breakfast. She’d never been so hungry upon waking before. Her stomach rolled over itself, churning and gurgling with sharp pangs. Once outside the closed doors to the dining room, she hesitated. Maybe she should try the kitchen instead - like a thief in the night, she thought, filching scraps from the table. She would hate to walk into the dining room and find Hayter, already seated at the head of the table with that careful predatory look on his face, as though he were waiting to snatch Elinore up in his jaws. The thought had Elinore’s fingers curling into the skirt of gown, wrinkling the fabric. She was just about to turn and find the kitchen when the dining room doors opened, startling her.

  “I thought I heard footsteps. Good morning.”

  Elinore’s shoulders relaxed at the sight of her cousin. Caleb looked slightly sleep-rough, his voice several notes deeper than she remembered from last night and the timber of it made the small hairs on her neck shiver slightly. He was dressed casually - similar to what he was wearing yesterday and Elinore wondered if he was planning on going back out hunting again.

  “Good morning, Mr. Vollmond,” she replied, nodding her head slightly. She peered behind him quickly. There was no one else in the dining room.

  “If you’re looking for breakfast, Mrs. Thistlewaite has already set some out in here. I can have her bring out more if you’re ready to eat.”

  “Yes. Thank you. I find myself quite famished this morning.”

  Her mouth watered as she stepped into the room and her stomach let out a loud gurgling noise. She was horrified. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed. Her eyes slid sideways surreptitiously and she saw his lips quirking in a bit of a smile.

  “I’ll speak to Mrs. Thistlewaite if you’d like to start with something from the buffet. I don’t have the servants come in here for breakfast as it’s easy enough to do it myself, but if you require them-”

  “No, thank you. I’m quite capable of serving myself.” As Caleb ducked out a side door, she headed to the small buffet and delicately sniffed the air. The tea smelled heavenly - spicy and sharp. It wasn’t a blend she recognized. She looked forward to trying it. It had a lovely amber color when she poured herself a cup, clear but dark. She held the cup up to her nose and took another greedy inhale before adding some milk and sugar.

  Caleb returned a moment later with a friendly-looking older woman who smiled at Elinore as she extended her hand. “I meant to introduce myself yesterday, but was busy with my work. I’m Mrs. Gemma Thistlewaite.”

  “Yes, of course!” Elinore exclaimed, setting her cup and saucer down on the table and coming forward to clasp the hand Mrs. Thistlewaite was extending. “How is Mr. Thistlewaite this morning? Is he recovering?”

  “He’s doing a mite better. It will take time, I’m afraid. He should not have been out that night.”

  Caleb’s shoulders seemed to stiffen at Mrs. Thistlewaite’s quiet words and Elinore felt the air in the room go thick.

  “I’m terribly sorry that he was. Although I was quite grateful for the transport.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that you were at fault, miss,” Mrs. Thistlewaite hurried to explain. “It would have been better if your trip had been postponed a few days. But Mr. Vollmond wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Not sure what to say, Elinore could only smile. “I’m quite happy to be here at Ravenwood.” Even to her own ears, her words sounded limp and flat. “Perhaps I could sit with Thistle for a bit, maybe read to him some?”

  “I’m sure he’d like that.”

  “Please tell Thistle to take all the time he needs,” Caleb added. “We don’t want him rushing back and injuring himself.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mrs. Thistlewaite replied, inclining her head to Caleb before addressing Elinore again. “And thank you, miss, for going off for help. I know you were… bitten while you did and I’m sorry for it.”

  As Mrs. Thistlewaite mentioned the injury, Elinore swore she felt it flare under her bandages, hot and tender. “I only wish I had returned sooner with help.”

  Mrs. Thistlewaite’s eyes drifted to the bandages on Elinore’s arm, her expression going uneasy and far away. “It’s a shame.”

  “Mrs. Davenport has made me a fine poultice. I’m sure I’ll heal remarkably.”

  Neither Mrs. Thistlewaite or Caleb were quick to agree and Elinore’s heart fluttered at their prolonged silence. “I met Alice yesterday. I feel we shall be good friends.”

  Mrs. Thistlewaite’s eyes finally moved from Elinore’s arm and she smiled, the gesture making her entire face kind and warm. “She’s a handful, that one. I hope she’s not a bother to you.”

  “Not at all. We share a great many interests and I’m already looking forward to what will be many long conversations on books, mythology, pirates and lore.”

  Mrs. Thistlewaite chuckled in a fond, if somewhat rueful way. “Yes, that’d be Alice for certain. Well. I do thank you for what you did for my husband. Mr. Caleb said you might like some breakfast. What can I get you?”

  Elinore’s eyes darted over quickly to Caleb’s plate at the table, where she saw a large slab of ham and a few eggs as well as some bread and some potatoes.

  “Perhaps…” her voice trailed off as she wondered how rude it would be if she ordered all that food. But she was so hungry.

  “Why don’t you just make her a plate like mine, Mrs. Thistlewaite?” Caleb answered and Elinore sighed in relief when the cook nodded. She came forward and surprised Elinore by giving her a fierce and fond hug.

  “Thank you again, miss.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  Mrs. Thistlewaite departed back to the kitchen and Elinore found herself again alone with Caleb. As she moved to sit at the table, he held her chair out for her. Unlike his uncle the night prior, he merely tucked it closer to the table once she was seated, neither lingering too long nor overly familiar as he did. He took his seat opposite her at the table, setting aside some papers he’d had in front of him.

  “Please don’t stop on my account. My father was quite the business man and often read at the table. Much to my mother’s chagrin.”

  “I could hardly sit here reading financial reports when I’ve such fine company.”

  Her cheeks flushed with heat and she tried to hide behind her teacup, taking a sip. The flavor surged over her tongue, sweet from the sugar she added, but also spicy and a touch smoky.

  “This is wonderful. What is it?”

  “It’s a blend my mother used to make. It’s a bit of a chai with a breakfast blend, along with cloves mixed in. Do you like it?”

  “Very much.”

  There it was again - another smile like the one yesterday, his eyes crinkling at the corner. The color of them was quite pale and it was hard not to stare at them, noting the delicate ring of black around the edges. Her stomach fluttered as Caleb held her gaze and she finally looked away, sipping her tea to calm her nerves. He looked a little pleased with himself, as if he knew he’d set her swooning.

  “Were you out hunting last night?” His smile faded a bit and she wished she hadn’t asked the question.

  “Yes, but I was unsuccessful. We did not find the wolf.”

  “Oh? But I heard one last night.”

  His eyes turned sharp. “Did you? When?”

  “Sometime after you and Mrs. Davenport checked my bandages. Perhaps an hour or so later.” Caleb frowned and she added, “Did you not hear it yourself?”

  “I heard it, but my hearing is… rather attuned to the calls of wolves. I didn’t think it could be heard from the manor.”

  “Oh.” She took another sip of tea. “It didn’t seem far off.”


  He made a low sound, like he didn’t quite agree with her, but didn’t want to contradict her out loud.

  “Are you going out again today?”

  “Perhaps later. Some of the men are tired.”

  A servant came out from the kitchen with a plate heaping with food and set it down in front of Elinore. She felt her mouth flood with saliva at the site and smell. Recalling her manners, she tried to eat with small measured bites.

  “Some of the men?” she asked. “Not you?” To her knowledge, Caleb had been out late hunting on the first night of Elinore’s arrival, all day yesterday and part of last night. He could have been keeping that schedule for several days before her arrival for all she knew.

  “I don’t fatigue easily,” Caleb answered. He ate his own food with efficient strokes - a sharp cut of the knife, a quick spearing of the meat followed by precise and economical chewing. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “I thought I would look over some books in the library and I wanted to knit something for Alice to thank her for the loan of her dress. Perhaps some writing.”

  “Letters to friends?” he inquired easily.

  Elinore ran her fingers over her knife and fork, feeling the smooth edges of the cutlery. Dare she tell Caleb of her hobby? He was bound to find out eventually now that she lived at the manor. Her parents had indulged her hobby of writing graciously and she’d even written a few stories that they enjoyed. Stories of mild intrigue or happy coincidences. She saved the more gothic tales for her writings with Charlotte.

  “Some,” she began. “I also… write stories.”

  Caleb’s sharp eyebrows went up slightly. Not in a mocking or overly surprised way. More in an intrigued way that made Elinore feel warm and happy in her stomach.

  “Are you an author, Miss Reed?”

  Elinore chuckled. “I would hardly call myself such, but I do like to write. My friend, Charlotte, and I imagine grand tales together and then we each pen a portion of it, trading back and forth.”

  “And what sort of tales do you and your friend tell?”

  Elinore felt slightly nervous discussing her writing. Nervous, excited and delighted. “Oh, well, we’re rather fond of gloomy tales. Young ladies in large haunted castles or lost on the moors. Lonely ghosts wandering about cemeteries. Strange, rolling fogs and stormy skies.” She could feel her face flush hot. “I’m sure you think such things horribly foolish.”

  “No. Not at all,” Caleb answered, his eyes clear and focused on her. “I’m quite intrigued. Perhaps you’ll let me read something someday?”

  Elinore stammered, terrified to the core. “I’d have to ask Charlotte and she’s terribly shy with her work.”

  “I wouldn’t have to read her writings. I could read just yours.”

  She could feel her face breaking out in smile, her cheeks hurting from how wide it was. “Perhaps.”

  “Then, when you are published and a famed author, I shall tell everyone that I was of the first to read your work.”

  Elinore laughed, a bubbly feeling filling her chest. “I doubt the eyes of the world will ever see the works of a young lady.”

  “Well, they wouldn’t have to know it was a lady writing the stories, would they?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Caleb shrugged a shoulder. “You make up your stories, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why not make up the name of someone to write them. Someone male. If you fear they won’t publish your work because you’re female, be someone else.”

  In that instant, it was as though an entire world opened up to Elinore. She sat back in her seat, jaw hanging open incredibly rudely and she could not care. Publish her work. Simply pretend to be a man and publish her work. A fantastical feeling was rushing through her blood at the idea - liberating and frightening all at once.

  “Miss Reed? Are you quite well?”

  She blinked a few times before coming back to herself. “Yes.” She leaned in closer to the table, to him. “Mr. Vollmond, I think you’ve just shown me my future.”

  His smile broken open his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners and he was beautiful. Perhaps most people thought that men couldn’t be beautiful, they ought only to be handsome, but Caleb’s eyes were clear and bright, some sort of mixture of primarily blue and perhaps some green. They were framed fantastically by his sharp brows and his cut cheeks and jawbone and he looked so happy to have said something helpful to Elinore. Beautiful was the only word that came to mind.

  “If that’s the case, then surely you must be able to call me Caleb,” he replied. “I am the supplier of your future, after all.”

  “Yes, of course. Caleb,” she said, testing the word out on her lips and finding it wonderful and intimate. “Please call me Elinore.”

  “Elinore,” he repeated.

  She fought the urge to duck her head and hide her face. Instead she met his gaze and it seemed for a moment, they were apart from the rest of the room, the rest of the manor. It was just her and Caleb, perhaps in all the world.

  Chapter Eight

  Mrs. Thistlewaite came out after breakfast to inquire if Elinore enjoyed her meal and Elinore was embarrassed to admit she’d eaten all the food that Mrs. Thistlewaite had put on her plate plus two more rolls of bread. Caleb had off-handedly placed them on her plate while she was eating and truth be told, Elinore hadn’t noticed, but had merely snatched up the yeasty rolls and eaten her fill. She couldn’t recall a time she’d eaten so much.

  “It must be the fresh country air,” Elinore declared. “And your fine cooking, Mrs. Thistlewaite.”

  Mrs. Thistlewaite didn’t look as happy as Elinore would have expected upon hearing praises of her skills and Elinore was left feeling unsure of herself. She folded her hands together carefully in front of herself to keep her fingers from fidgeting with her dress.

  “I daresay I won’t have to eat until dinner,” Elinore added and then wanted to pull the words back out of the air. She’d been so hungry last night and again this morning. Who was to say she wouldn’t be hungry at lunchtime?

  Mrs. Thistlewaite exchanged a glance with Caleb, both of their faces looking grim for a moment.

  “I’ll prepare something for you anyway and send someone along when it’s ready.” Mrs. Thistlewaite turned to Caleb. “I’ll send the servants over with your tea and then with some morning scones around ten.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Thistlewaite.”

  She nodded tightly and then retreated back to the kitchen. Elinore swallowed awkwardly, watching her go.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, her voice quiet and slightly timid.

  “Not at all. I’m sure she’s just worried for her husband,” he replied. “I was planning on working in the library today, would you like to join me?”

  Happy for the company, she smiled. “Yes, thank you. I might read or do a little writing.”

  He inclined his head down the hallway and they set off to the library. The manor felt peaceful and quiet in the early morning. There were a few servants about, but they moved with soft footsteps and only the barest of sound. Caleb nodded and spoke to them as they passed, addressing them by name. Elinore tried to remember each name as it was spoken and a small detail about the person to keep it in her mind. The staff appeared happy to see Caleb, smiling at him as they passed.

  “You seem to know your staff well.”

  “Most of them have been with Ravenwood for longer than I can remember. Hayter only brought a few of his staff along with him when he and Victoria moved in after my parents died.”

  A thought crossed Elinore’s mind. “Why did the estate not fall to you?”

  Caleb went silent for a moment and Elinore feared she had overstepped. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to ask. Forgive my rudeness.”

  “No, that’s all right,” Caleb replied, pausing again before he spoke. “In our family, my father’s family, our inheritance doesn’t always pass from father to son, or parent to child.”
>
  She waited for him to say more, hoping for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. “Oh, I see,” Elinore replied, though truly, she did not.

  The silence of their short, but slow walk was broken when a loud ringing sound assaulted Elinore’s ears. She flinched at the sound, clapping her hands over her ears.

  “Miss Reed, Elinore,” he corrected himself. “Are you all right?”

  “What was that?” she asked. She didn’t hear the high-pitched ringing anymore and carefully pulled her hands away from her ears.

  “What do you mean?” Caleb asked, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

  “I heard a ringing. Like a bell. You didn’t hear that?”

  Caleb seemed to choose his words carefully. “Our uncle quite often rings a bell to request the attention of one of the servants.”

  “Is it set up all throughout the house?” she asked. She didn’t hear it any longer, although if she listened carefully, she thought she could hear the steps of people moving too and fro upstairs.

  “It’s in his bedroom. On the second floor.”

  It was Elinore’s turn to frown. “That far?” She didn’t know how she could have possibly heard it from so far away.

  Caleb’s lips approximated a smile, although it did not reach his eyes. “They say sometimes that old houses have odd ways of carrying sound. You must have gone by one of those strange places where the sound carried well.”

  She’d never heard of such a thing, but she had no other explanation. She couldn’t possibly have heard the slight ringing of a bell from a floor away. Not unless she had uncommonly great hearing, which had never been the case before. Finally entering the library, Elinore was relieved to see the somewhat inappropriate book she’d been reading yesterday still tucked deep into the cushions of the chair. Whether it was because she feared discovery, wanted easy access to it to keep reading, or a combination of both, she wasn’t sure.

  “I’ll be at the desk, unless you require use of it?” Caleb asked.