Ravenwood

by Margaux Gillis

  Finding herself alone and feeling inspired, Elinore took the opportunity to sit at the desk, pulling out fresh parchment and an inkwell, pausing to think before she started writing. While it took time to get her words on the paper, it was a blessing because it gave her the opportunity to consider her words carefully. She wrote out a few paragraphs, happy with how they started. She’d have Alice read them over the next day and she could then make any changes and transcribe a fresh copy. Looking for a blotting block to dry her ink, she opened up a drawer and her eye was caught by one of Caleb’s ledgers, or more precisely, her eye was caught by the crest on the front - the same that was emblazoned across the gates of Ravenwood. At the time, it had been late and her brain had been in no shape to examine the crest of arms. Picking up the ledger and placing it in front of her, she ran her fingers over the raised embossing. The standard shield, familiar on so many crests, stood in the centre, flanked by a raven on each side. The centre of the shield, though, was what caught Elinore’s eye and she didn’t know how she had missed it before. It was a wolf. Its measured gaze looked out, its lips slightly pulled back to bare sharp teeth. She wondered what the colors were of the crest as the journal itself was simple brown leather, not indicating any sort of gradation of color. Seeing the Latin family motto, she cursed herself for not doing better in her lessons. She hastily scribbled it down on a separate piece of paper, wondering if she could use the books in the library to translate it. The only word she understood was ‘lupus’ - latin for ‘wolf.’

  Her time in the library came to an end when she was informed dinner was ready. She hastily put away her writings, cleaning the desk for Caleb, should he wish to use it the next morning. She smoothed her hands over her dress and squared her shoulders, hoping that Hayter wasn’t yet back from town, or if he was, that Caleb had also returned from his tenant visits.

  Her prayers were partially answered. Both Hayter and Caleb rose from their seats as she entered, although it was Hayter who made his way to pull out Elinore’s chair for her. He again placed his hand on her shoulder as he welcomed her to dinner and for a moment, she thought he would rest it there again for longer than was socially acceptable. Just then, a strange, low sound reached her ears and if Elinore had to guess, she would have said it sounded like an animal growling. Her eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on Caleb’s face. His gaze was fixed to a point over her shoulder at his uncle. Hayter’s fingers pressed once into Elinore’s shoulder and then released his grip. The odd growling sound stopped.

  Elinore hoped Caleb wouldn’t ask after her writing. Though she was happy to speak to him of it, she was loathe to discuss it in front of Hayter. She had the sense he would be one of those men that found the idea ‘charming’ or ‘amusing’ and the way that such men said those words was often disparaging and patronizing. While she had no desire to hear such tones ever, she certainly didn’t feel up to it tonight. Feeling as though she were waiting on some kind of precipice, she hastily took a large sip of the wine that had been placed in front of her. Should dinners at Ravenwood continue as such, she’d no doubt turn into a blathering drunk.

  Thankfully, Caleb said nothing of her writings and the discussion at the table focused on matters of the manor. Elinore only listened with half an ear, her mind occupied with her writings, with things she had seen, with people she had met. Would Caleb be interested in reading her stories when she was finished? Could she trust him to give an honest opinion? Was he serious about her publishing? Could he help her do just that?

  “I fear we are boring dear Nora,” Hayter said suddenly, and Elinore flinched as he placed a hand over hers, patting her fingers.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked. She’d been quite distracted by her thoughts and hadn’t heard what they were discussing.

  “I’m sure if Elinore,” Caleb said, stressing her full and proper name, “would like to participate in our discussion, she would. Perhaps after she’s had time to acclimate to Ravenwood she would find more of this interesting, or not. The choice is hers.”

  “Oh, I’m sure young ladies have other things to occupy their minds. Things better than taxes and rent and yield of crops.” Hayter squeezed her fingers a bit and Elinore grabbed her glass of wine with the other hand, feeling like she wanted to snap her fingers at the servant to ensure it was steadily filled throughout dinner. Where such quick anger and impatience came from, she wasn’t sure. She’d always been more even tempered.

  “I’m afraid I was quite lost in my own thoughts. Coming to Ravenwood has been an exciting new journey for me and my mind is over-occupied with details at the moment.”

  The two men stared at each other hotly and Elinore leaned back slightly in her chair. She felt like a woodland creature watching two predators posturing before a battle erupted. Her eyes flicked back and forth from Caleb to Hayter and returned to Caleb again. Should there actually be a battle, she had no doubt of whom she wished to win. They were in the midst of a silent war - something transpiring between the two of them which she could not decipher. Hayter suddenly began chuckling and though it should have defused the tension, Elinore felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

  “Young pup,” he said, addressing Caleb with what Elinore felt was quite a dismissive term. “You amuse me with your obstinance.”

  Elinore took another long pull of wine, watching as Caleb’s fingers tightened around his cutlery. He did not answer Hayter and instead turned back to his meal. The rest of the dinner passed in silence.

  Another dinner at Ravenwood successfully survived, Elinore thought.

  That night, as she had continued to do that week, Mrs. Davenport came to dress Elinore’s wound, and again, Caleb accompanied her. Elinore’s wounds were still black, now with long lines trailing up her arm. Strangely, the wounds did not hurt like they had over the first few days. Mrs. Davenport’s face was tight as she worked, applying the poultice with heavy strokes. Elinore hissed.

  “My dear?” Mrs. Davenport asked.

  Elinore’s eyes darted from her to Caleb and back again. “It… burns. It’s not done that before.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m fine. Please continue.”

  Caleb’s lips thinned as Mrs. Davenport worked, applying more of the foul smelling mixture and then re-bandaging Elinore’s arm.

  “Is there a need for a doctor?” Elinore asked, thinking of the black lines running up her arm.

  “Not to worry, my dear. We’ll take good care of you.”

  It was hardly the answer for which Elinore had hoped. Mrs. Davenport and Caleb exchanged a look and then the housekeeper left Elinore’s bedroom. She was once again alone with Caleb. In her bedroom. As much as it made her nervous, it also thrilled her.

  “I feel as though I’m being an awful lot of trouble,” Elinore said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Not at all,” Caleb replied, his manner stiff and taciturn. He cut a fine figure standing in the room, bathed in the soft light of a few candles and the fire that was lit in the small hearth. “How are you feeling?”

  Elinore blinked, surprised by the question. “Fine. Rather robust actually. I quite enjoy being outside when the opportunity arises, although I must say I generally prefer the company inside the manor.” Elinore felt quite bold at her statement and something in her made her want to puff her chest out and almost preen as she spoke. Caleb’s eyes watched her carefully as she sat in the chair in front of the fire. He stood at quite a height over her, but she didn’t feel as though he was looming or exerting his size over hers. If anything, she almost felt as though he were more cautious than ever before.

  “You seemed to enjoy dinner.”

  She wondered if that was a remark toward how much she’d eaten. Certainly she could hardly believe it herself. After her substantial breakfast and then her morning snack with Alice, she’d also had a sizable lunch and then had nearly eaten as much as the men at dinner. She hadn’t noticed it until the servants came to clear their plates and hers had been as spartan as Hayter’s and Caleb’s.


  “I did. Mrs. Thistlewaite is quite a cook. Her culinary skills are unmatched.”

  “Agreed,” he said with a slight nod. “I must say, I doubt I can ever eat anywhere again without comparing the food at Ravenwood and having it come out superior.” He paused and her eyes were drawn to the slight movement of his fingers against his trousers. “I hope you sleep well tonight. Good evening.”

  Caleb turned to leave and Elinore lurched to her feet, meeting him at her door. “Will I see you at breakfast tomorrow?” she asked. She could hardly believe she’d been so forward, but she simply felt like she had to know if she would see him again. She longed to be in his company, finding his presence filled her with things she didn’t know how to name.

  “I will be in the dining room early, yes, and then the library for some matters of finance and paperwork.”

  Elinore’s lips split wide in a smile, and she was certain she was showing nearly all her teeth. “I look forward to the morning, then.”

  “As do I. Elinore.”

  “Caleb.”

  She closed the door after he left and leaned against it, her heart racing as though she’d run a mile. She wandered over to the window. The moon was just rising. It wasn’t too late. Dinner had felt like an eternity, but had only been a couple of hours followed by another session in the sitting room afterward. Hayter had smoked a cigar, Caleb had a drink and Elinore worked on her knitting. Hardly high society. She longed for a game of cards or perhaps checkers, but didn’t know how to ask Caleb without also inviting Hayter.

  Now, the waning moon was low in the sky, looking too large and slightly yellow. She felt a deep pull in her chest as she stared at it, though she could not put words to the feeling she had. Longing? Sadness? Yearning? Elinore wasn’t sure. She knew only that as she stared, she wished it were already full. She sighed long and deep, filling her lungs and exhaling against the glass of the window, pressing her fingertips to the cold pane.

  That night, Elinore dreamed of ravens, wolves and the forest. In her dreams, she felt stronger, faster. The woods were sharper and more alive to her eyes and she felt like she could see eternity and hear it as well. She walked through the woods feeling none of her usual trepidation or fear of being alone and in the near dark.

  But she wasn’t alone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, movement pacing her in the trees. Shockingly bright fur. The white wolf, following her. The raven, her raven, as she’d come to think of it, swooped down out of the trees and perched on her shoulder again, nibbling slightly at her ear. She didn’t flinch. She felt touched by the gesture of familiarity and recognition and raised two fingertips to the raven’s breast. Elinore stroked the feathers, carefully following the grain, finding them smooth and silky under her skin.

  A wolf howled and she felt the sound in her chest and she swayed with the sense of knowing and longing it produced. It was the white wolf’s howl that made her feel this way. Instead of trying not to engage it, of trying to appear still and silent like a creature avoiding a predator, Elinore turned from her current path and headed straight into the dense foliage where she thought the white wolf would be. She’d thought the creature would be just past the first set of trees and bushes, but she was disappointed when she broke through them and found nothing. A flash of silver had her turning to the left, then to the right, then left again. It was teasing her! She wasn’t sure if it was just a game or if the wolf was avoiding her.

  Elinore wanted to catch that wolf. Unlike before, she had no fear of it now.

  A second howl broke through the night, the ululating call discordant and off key. Elinore shivered. That was not her white wolf. That was another wolf in the forest, in her forest. She grit her teeth, a strange grumbling sound coming from her throat and chest. Was she growling?

  The wolf that had bit her that first night crashed through the trees and Elinore stumbled back, more startled than scared. She fell backward, landing hard on her spine and it slunk forward, baring its jaws, its eyes glowing. At first, Elinore curled back further, flinching from the wolf, but then something in her changed, something shifted. She felt her lips pull back from her all too blunt and human teeth and she bared them at the wolf, making the same growling sound she had before. The strange wolf paused, confused. She snapped her teeth at it and prepared to lunge toward it, thinking to sink her fingernails, short as they were, into its fur and maybe even its flesh. Elinore would be strong. She would make it hurt.

  The white wolf launched itself out of the foliage, landing on the feral wolf, closing sharp teeth around the feral wolf’s neck. The feral wolf gave a wounded sound - not a cry, not a whimper, more like an outraged bark. It shimmied and shook, trying to dislodge the white wolf, but it, no, she, Elinore realized, held firm, holding onto the feral wolf within her strong jaw. The white wolf shook her head, like a cat trying to shake a mouse, and the feral wolf let out another bark of surprise before striking out with its large paws, swiping at the white wolf. The white wolf stumbled back, red blooming across her chest and front paws, but she held her ground, standing in front of Elinore, snarling. The feral wolf’s hind-quarters twitched and Elinore realized it was going to launch itself at them. She reached out and touched the back paw of the white wolf, willing it to stay still. They would fight, they would fight together.

  The feral wolf leapt toward them, yellow eyes glowing in the dark.

  Chapter Ten

  Elinore didn’t wake with a start, like she would have expected after such a nightmare. Instead she was one moment asleep, and then another moment alert. But she wasn’t frightened or afraid. A sense of waiting or of anticipation flooded her veins instead. In her mind’s eye, she could see the feral wolf - both the vision from her dream and the memory from the night she was bitten. She should have been scared.

  She was not.

  The early morning light was breaking across the horizon, casting sharp grays and blues in her room. Elinore tossed back the bed-clothes and paced to the window. On a whim, she struggled with the latch for a moment, finding it sticky from lack of use. Once she’d loosened it, she hefted the old window open, a horrible creak coming from the wood. She inhaled deeply, smelling the remaining spice of the night before and the early dew of morning on the air. She hastily changed into her day dress and then attempted to tame her hair. She struggled, still finding the bandage on her arm hindered her, although the bites did not hurt anymore. Perhaps Mrs. Davenport’s poultice had finally done the trick. She carefully peeled away the bandage, revealing her skin underneath.

  The bite marks were still black with carbon-colored lines running up her forearm and heading toward her shoulder. But there was neither pain, nor heat. She wondered if this was some kind of blood poisoning, but Mrs. Davenport and Caleb hadn’t mentioned anything that dire. Surely if there was a chance, they would have said something. Also, Elinore didn’t feel sick. She felt bright and chipper and eager to head down to breakfast and hopefully find another plate full of food like the one she’d had yesterday. Maybe even find Caleb alone in the dining room and they could eat and talk alone, without Hayter looming over them.

  She didn’t bother wrapping her arm in the bandage again. The wounds, although black, were dry and didn’t trouble her. Elinore simply pulled her sleeve down over them and dashed out of her room. She paused at the top of the stairs, hearing a quiet crying sound. Concerned, she followed her ears until she came upon an open door at the other end of the manor. Inside, one of the young maids, Amelia, Elinore recalled her name, was standing over a broken vase of flowers, crying, with one of the footmen trying to comfort her.

  “It will be all right, Amy.”

  Amelia shook her head. “I’ve broken things before, back at the old manor, before we came here. He gets so angry and sometimes he’d say he’d have to take it out of our meals or worse.”

  “Mr. Caleb wouldn’t let that happen. He’s a kind soul, not like his uncle.”

  Hayter. Of course they were discussing Hayter, Elinore thought, hovering
at the edge of the door, just out of sight. She should make herself known; she should let them know she was there, listening. But she did not.

  Amelia shook her head harder. “Mr. Caleb is good and true, but he won’t go against his elder. Not his Alpha.”

  Elinore frowned at the term, not familiar with it. It was clearly some kind of designation, but she didn’t know what it meant.

  “You’ll be fine, Amy. We’ll sneak you off to the stables if we have to.”

  “I wish we’d never come here. I wish Mrs. Victoria were still alive. When she was alive, things weren’t so bad, but then she got sick and he… and it’s gotten worse ever since.”

  Amelia was crying in earnest now and the poor young man with her had this horrified look on his face, completely at a loss. Elinore straightened her shoulders, coming up with an idea.

  “Um, hello?” she said, peering around the edge of the door. “Are you all right?”

  The both of them startled at her presence, Amelia trying to wipe at her face with her apron and the young man bending over and starting to pick up the broken pieces of china.

  “Oh, what have we here, an accident?” Elinore asked, coming into the room, kneeling down herself and gathering up the larger chunks.

  “Oh, miss, please don’t. I’ll get it,” Amelia took off her apron and started gathering the broken bits in the fabric.

  “I’ll get a dust pan,” the young man said, probably relieved to take his leave of a crying maid.

  “Things break,” Elinore said, trying to ease into conversation. “No one is hurt. All will be well.”

  Amelia looked as though she might burst into tears again. “Mr. Hayter is very particular about his things and this came from the old estate. He brought it with him special. But I’ll have to tell him. I’ll have to.”

  Elinore paused, taking one of Amelia’s hands in hers. Amelia looked up at her, confused, a frown across her brow.