Beauty and the Beast of Thornleigh

by Kate Westwood

  At first, Julia had taken great delight in looking out of the window, and commenting upon the various sights that were to be seen. They had played Travelling Piquet, which Julia had won, having enjoyed the fortunate passing-by on her own side, of a poor family in an open buggy, wrapped in blankets, and no less than three flocks of sheep! By the late afternoon, however, silly games had run their course of entertainment, and the sky had grown quite dark. John stopped the carriage to consult Miss Georgiana.

  ‘I think we must come to an inn at the next village, John. I had no idea of a posting inn being so difficult to find. Do you think we shall get inside before it snows?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I do not want to upset the carriage and if its gets much darker, we will not be able to see our way!’

  ‘Aye, Miss. Sho’nt be much longer. I wonder if we be a wee bit off the beaten track, Miss, but we must come to a village very soon. See yonder light there? That’s sure an’ be a village.’ He trudged moodily back to the front of the carriage and mounted the seat. The horses swished their tails nervously, not liking the feel of the chill air in their noses.

  They set off once again, Julia almost completely covered by her coat and shawl. Georgiana looked anxiously from the window from time to time. Presently it began to snow violently, and within ten minutes, the carriage began to lurch. Georgiana, trusting in John’s experience to handle both horses and the carriage, hung on to the now sleeping Julia, and prayed for the snow to cease so that the driver could at least see a little of the road in front of them in the fast-descending dusk.

  Suddenly, the carriage was thrown with great force sideways and Georgiana was thrust sharply against the window. The vehicle tumbled and slid to a stop on its side, and she looked dazedly into a dark mass through the broken window pane. Julia moaned beside her, and Georgiana struggled upwards, to examine her sister’s face. Blood ran down thickly from a swelling cut above her eye. Georgiana’s cold hands fought against the fabric of her dress as she ripped a piece from her skirt. Pressing this against her sister’s forehead, she called out weakly.

  ‘John! John! Are you there? Help us!’

  No reply came from the darkness which had descended upon them so quickly. The snow still fell, for Georgiana could feel it when she put out her hand and touched the darkness outside the broken window. She pulled her hand back in. She must get out of the carriage!

  Standing awkwardly, her cane now lost somewhere in the shadows of the carriage, she pushed against the opposite side of the carriage wall which now formed the roof, and found the door. Pushing against it with all her small might, the door sprung open like a trap door in a ceiling and she bent to rub Julia’s cheeks gently.

  ‘Julia, we must get out! Can you stand up? Julia!’

  The young girl’s eyes opened wide, for a moment, and closed again. Georgiana struggled to hoist her sister and lifted her half through the hole above their heads. ‘Go on, Julia, pull yourself out.’

  The girl made a half-hearted attempt to pull herself through the door opening, and with Georgiana pushing from below, she slid through the hole and disappeared with a swish of fabric against the snowy outsides of the vehicle. Georgiana took up the fur they had taken to cover their skirts and tossed it through the hole also. Then she awkwardly clambered into the dusk air.

  As she clambered out of the overturned carriage, she slid promptly to the ground, since she could not hold on to the slippery sides. She landed with a thump, next to Julia. Just in front of them lay the still figure of a man, a dark, spreading patch of blood-stained snow under his head. The silence around them was broken only by the soft hush of falling snow in the growing darkness.

  Georgiana gasped, then averted her eyes from the still form of their driver, and took a deep, fortifying breath of chill air. The two horses were still alive and attached to the harness. She could see they were unharmed, for they stood, dragging at the overturned carriage silently, and eyed her as if to demand release. She got up and managed to get behind them.

  ‘Steady, Bess, steady Lad.’ She used her voice to calm them. Her cold hands scrabbled at the fastenings, and after few moments, she managed to release them. They trotted away, reins and bits still attached, from the overturned beast which had scared them. Georgiana watched them go apprehensively, for she knew she could not hope to catch them, nor to mount the animals if she could, and yet was loathe to send them into the cold night. She watched them out of sight then turned back to the situation at hand.

  Beside her, Julia stirred and moaned. ‘We must walk, Julia dearest,’ she told her urgently. ‘I know it seems very hard to do, but we must. Can you walk if I support you?’

  The younger girl put her arm obediently around her sister’s shoulders. ‘Where are we going, Georgie? Where is old John?’

  Georgiana ignored the second question and chose the first in its place.

  ‘See those lights, there, in the distance?’ Indicating with her hand, she repressed the quiver in her voice. God help her if the light she imagined she saw were only the moon through cloud. ‘It is not so far. I think we might make it there in a short while. I will hold you, and you will hold me, do you understand?’

  The two girls, one limping, and one straggling, avoided the still, dark figure which was now half-buried in snow and as if in complicit silence, they made their way over the muddy road, plunging ankle-deep at every step, into the fresh snowfall. After a few minutes, Georgiana looked up. ‘It is not so far, now, only a few more minutes,’ she whispered encouragingly.

  All at once Julia screamed. A large, dark shadow, beastlike and grotesque in the darkness, had slunk out of the trees and stood before them in the snow, several feet away. It sniffed its beastly nose, and started forward towards them, lumbering oddly in the snow.

  ‘Stay away!’ cried Georgiana, her voice thin and tenuous in the wind. ‘Do you hear? Stay back!’ She raised her right arm, as if to throw a stone, but the creature, undeterred, plodded forward. Clutching Julia, Georgiana stood still, waiting. The creature was almost as tall as Julia, and as it advanced, she made out thick, rugged fur. It was a horse-wolf, she thought incoherently, as she braced for an attack, and unable to help herself, let out a whimper as it finally came upon them.

  Julia had dropped to the ground, and pulled the fur about her head. The horse-wolf sniffed at the figure in the snow, and then at Georgiana, who could only stand in amazement, waiting for it to attack them. It did not. It gently nosed the figure on the ground, and turned, and began to walk away.

  Georgiana exhaled, and urged her sister upwards. ‘Julia, dearest. Come, it is leaving. It is not dangerous.’

  Julia peered out from beneath the fur. ‘Are you sure, Georgie?’

  ‘Yes, child. Come, we must hurry.’

  They began to move forward again, guided only by the shape of the road beneath them, but oddly, the horse-wolf moved ahead of them as if guiding them, and did not leave the road. Georgiana wondered if she herself was delirious and was merely imagining the creature. It stopped, after a few minutes, and gave a braying howl, then left the road and was gone.

  Georgiana felt oddly bereft, for the creature had been their brief companion, and now they were left alone once more. But no sooner had they moved past the point where the creature had left the road, when Georgiana perceived a lane hard by, so covered in snow, and so concealed by the dark, that they surely would have missed it unless it were for the beast which had now disappeared. Then she saw it again.

  It was sitting in the darkness, the snow dashing against its pelt, as if it had been waiting for them to catch up. Guided by an internal voice, rather than rational thought, she veered away from the vague light she had been aiming for, and guided Julia, wrapped in the fur, towards the turning. The horse-wolf trotted forward again too, and once again, she lost sight of it in the thick darkness.

  The wound on Julia’s head bled more freely now, and Georgiana tried not to look at it.

  ‘I’m s-so c-cold, Georgie.’

  ‘I know, dearest.�
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  They struggled against the snow which had begun to fall more thickly now, until the lights of a cottage, or perhaps it was a house, with indistinct patches of brightness indicating windows, came into view dimly through the sleety darkness.

  The creature had now vanished and Georgiana began to wonder if she was delirious, for it seemed they were now walking downhill, into some kind of underworld, with goblin shapes on the ground and thick trees which dripped water onto their heads. The darkness enveloped them with arms of icy welcome, and she shuddered uncontrollably. Wrapping the fur more firmly around her sister, she began to half drag Julia, stumbling many times against the rocks or logs which her feet encountered. It would have been a difficult journey for an able-bodied man, but with her limp, it was even more arduous, and yet, she kept on. She was dragging her sister, when she realised that Julia had slumped to the ground in a faint.

  ‘God help me!’ she cried in a low voice and lifted the girl into her arms. It was all she could do to lie her under a tree, in a patch where the ground had been spared the snow, and cover her with the blanket. ‘I shall go for help!’ she cried. ‘I shall come back for you!’ Julia’s eyes remained closed.

  The lights seemed only a few minutes off, and Georgiana stepped out with renewed vigour, thoughts of her sister lying alone in the darkness spurring her on. She pushed through a thicket of bushes, oblivious to the scratches on her face and arms which they inflicted. Her skirts tore, and left flutterings of fabric on the spikey arms of the trees.

  The dark form of a house rose in front of her, a strange apparition in the swirling snow. She limped wetly, pushing against the snow which filled her boots, to the front steps and pulled herself up towards the large entrance. Did she imagine the horse-wolf which slunk off the great door step as she climbed it? The dark wooden door, with its gargoyle-styled knocker, seemed to her to be the most perfect fit for the circumstances. She gave a short, mirthless laugh. Seizing the door knocker, she banged it as hard as she could, and slumped to the ground in exhaustion.

  She could hardly tell how long she had been there, lying at the foot of that strange door. She only knew she was flying, being born along to some unknown destination by some strange, gargoyle-like figures. And then one turned to her, and she stared into its face, and it was the face of a creature, half-man, and half-beast, with a one half-closed eye and a twisted smile. It said to her, ‘Great God in heaven! Miss Hall!’

  Seventeen

  Still attributing her vision to delirium, Georgiana gazed at the face before her in confusion.

  Her vision spoke again. ‘Manfred! Here man, quickly,’ it cried. Suddenly she was being scooped up into strong arms, and the air around her was warm. It woke her to partial recognition. ‘Julia! Outside, under the trees.’ Her voice was weak, and faint, but it was enough to spur action.

  ‘Manfred! Make haste! There is a young lady— try the trees, man!’

  Georgiana was too weak and cold to struggle against the arms which held her so firmly, and she slumped into their warmth. She felt the rhythmic sway of his steps as he carried her. They were going up a staircase, and now, into a warm room. Candles created a strange, soft light which painted the walls with writhing figures. ‘Where is the horse-wolf? Is it gone?’ she heard herself ask. Then she slipped into unconsciousness.

  It could only have been an hour later that she awoke. The room she found herself in was half in shadows, and partially lit gently by a dancing fire in the grate of a large fireplace. Several landscapes decorated the walls, a large dark cabinet lay against the left wall, and drapes were drawn across two large windows. She herself lay in a huge four-poster bed, covered with a white embroidered counterpane, and a crisp white pillow under her head.

  He sat opposite in an armchair, his back to her and his face toward the fire. Golden flames danced over his mane of hair. She moaned involuntarily, and on the sound, he half turned his head toward her.

  Captain Brandt rose from the chair and came to the bed. ‘Miss Hall. I trust you are feeling better?’ His countenance was polite, unreadable.

  She could not face his gaze, and lowered her own. ‘My sister? Is she — is she harmed?’

  ‘Sleeping. Manfred cleaned her wounds — nothing to alarm, I believe. I suspect you are both suffering more from shock and cold, than from any injury.’

  She breathed out. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Miss Hall, forgive me, but I must ask — how came you here? To Thornleigh? Was it by design?’

  She closed her eyes, overcome by confusion and mortification. ‘No Sir, indeed, it was not!’ She struggled to rise. ‘I must see my sister; I must leave this place!’

  He put out his hand. ‘You are not well enough to leave your bed. Your sister is cared for. I only wish to know how came you here; I can hardly think it was with the wish to seek me out!’ This he added with a bitter smile.

  She shook her head, a little involuntary gesture, as if to reject the harshness of this judgement against her character, but which he seemed to take as confirmation of his statement. She tried to collect herself. ‘We were on the way to my aunt’s house, in the north of this county. Our man, John, drove us — Julia and me, that is — and we did not expect snow. I had no idea of your house being in this vicinity, I can assure you. I think we were a little lost—’

  He uttered an oath and she blushed. ‘A little! My god, Miss Hall, you are several miles from the main road! You driver must surely have taken a wrong turning!’

  ‘Our carriage overturned shortly after dusk and our man was thrown from the vehicle. He — I believe he is dead, Sir!’ She closed her eyes in distress, and two small tears slipped from under the pale lids.

  ‘Pray, do not distress yourself. I shall have Manfred go by horseback, to recover his body, if it can be found. I shall get him to bring your trunks also. I am sorry for you, Miss Hall, and your sister,’ he added, not unkindly. ‘I think you have had a great shock.’

  She was grateful for the kindness in his voice, but the humiliation she felt at finding herself in such a circumstance, in the very house of the man of whose offer she had rejected, was still great. She again tried to rise, but weakness overcame her and she slumped back into the soft pillows.

  ‘I am much obliged to you Sir, but please— I wish to leave here, as soon as possible, if my sister can travel. If you would be so kind as to loan us a carriage, I assure you it shall be returned as soon as we reach my aunt’s in Whitecliffe.’

  ‘Whitecliffe? Then you are some three hours distant yet, Miss Hall. And your man has taken a wrong turning, for a certainty.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I must reach my aunt’s as soon as possible. I can assure you of my aunt’s gratitude, and my own, if only you can loan us a carriage, or hire us a vehicle.’

  He was silent a moment. The candle light played over his face, making strange patterns on his mottled skin. He smiled in his twisted way. ‘It appears that fate likes to play cruel games with mere mortals, and you and I, Miss Hall, are its victims on this occasion. We are, at present, quite snowed in. There will be no escape for you and your sister, until the snow stops and the roads can be cleared. It appears for the moment, that you are to be guests of Thornleigh, after all!’

  Georgiana’s face was whiter than the pillows on which she lay. ‘Are you certain? There is no way out? But— we cannot stay here! My aunt, Mama— our friends will be worried if we do not arrive at my aunt’s by tomorrow! And it would not be proper! Surely a servant might be sent with a note…’ she trailed off when she saw the look he gave her.

  ‘I comprehend your anxiety, and it is my deep regret that I cannot assist you more. But there will be no roads open to send a message by horseback, even if I could spare Manfred on such a mission. I hardly keep servants here, apart from a lad who comes to help Manfred twice a week and a woman who comes occasionally from the village. I lead a very quiet life and Manfred manages all my needs. We do not often receive— company— here at Thornleigh,’ he added, with an amused glance at her for
m, tucked in his bed.

  She lay against the pillows, her face as pale as the counterpane which covered her. ‘Then, if you have no woman here, how could my— how did I come to be here, in bed, in my petticoats?’ She blushed. ‘Surely there is a woman here?’

  Captain Brandt looked at her blandly. ‘You were wet through, and ice cold. In the absence of a woman to look after you, I had no choice but to undress you, and put you in bed myself, Miss Hall.’

  Wide-eyed, she took in his words. Her pale countenance now began to be suffused with a rose pink.

  Seeing her confusion, he continued. ‘I am sorry if it gives you cause for anxiety, but there was little choice, since your life was in danger. I hope you will overlook my impertinence and allow that there was little else to be done. And,’ he added, ‘it is not as though I have never seen a woman in her undergarments before.’

  She looked at him suspiciously. His scar twitched and his good eye glinted. He was laughing at her! Her ire rose instantly. She said coldly, ‘I shall thank you, Captain Brandt, to conduct yourself as a gentleman ought, and refrain from making sport of me!’

  ‘Ah, you are quite correct, Miss Hall. I was wrong, and I beg your pardon most humbly.’ He bowed.

  She eyed him suspiciously. He still sported a smile which turned up the corners of his mouth, and she shook her head. What would Henry say if he knew what a strange turn events had taken! What would her mother and Eliza think, if they knew a man had undressed her and put her to bed? She blushed deeply at the thought, and then another thought occurred to her. ‘Captain, if I may ask— whose bed chamber is this?’

  His cast her a glance. ‘Why, it is my own, Miss Hall. I brought you here immediately, since it was one of only two rooms excepting the library, which had a fire ready. We thought it best to get you warm immediately. Your sister has the only other chamber with a fire. However, please do not make yourself anxious, for I have given orders to Manfred to make up a spare room for you as soon as possible. Tomorrow you shall have your own bedchamber.’