Ravenwood by Margaux Gillis
Even a man who is pure in heart,
And says his prayers by night
May become a Wolf when the
Wolfbane blooms
And the autumn Moon is bright
~ Curt Siodmak
I suppose the same is true for a woman.
Chapter One
The unceasing sway and tilt of the carriage kept Elinore awake despite how she longed for sleep. Her head would bob down as her body slipped toward unconsciousness, only for her to jerk it upright again. She was trapped in the horrid no-man’s-land of wretched fatigue and total sleep, but unable to cross the boundary between the two.
The same could not be said for her carriage mates and she watched them jealously as their heads lolled against the side of the carriage in their repose, unmindful of their craniums tapping against the glass windows. The elderly couple across from her were wedged against one another, each one somehow keeping the other from tipping forward onto the hard floor of the carriage. The woman’s face was lined with wrinkles from smiling, laughing and probably being the most genial sort of woman - the kind of lady who hosted dinner parties and kept the conversation light and airy - moving from topic to topic with ease and grace. The man seemed warm and soft - nary a harsh line on his body nor face. Elinore felt a pang in her heart as she stared at them. Her parents, had they lived, would likely have been such a couple.
Her grief wasn’t so raw and fresh as it was when her parents passed, two months prior, but it was still new enough that tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away hurriedly, turning her face to the window. Elinore stared out at the vast countryside. It was overcast and dull - fat, grey clouds hanging low in the sky, seeping fog and perhaps a touch of frost from the plumy depths. Rotund droplets of water clung to the outside of the windowpane, slinking downward, gathering more water and weight as they did. Her breath fogged the window, obscuring her view.
The man next to her tipped sideways, his head knocking against Elinore’s shoulder and she firmly pressed him back to lean against the other side of the carriage. As hesitant as she had been to do so at first, she was well acquainted with the motion now, having suffered his weight for the endless trip. He grumbled in his sleep, something unintelligible, and seconds later Elinore’s ears were again filled with the sounds of his snoring. Looking out again at the dismal and unfamiliar landscape, she thought it was perhaps the best match possible for her mood.
Drawing her reticule open, Elinore pulled out a well-worn letter, the paper edges going fuzzy and soft from her constant folding and unfolding. Though she probably had the entire letter memorized verbatim, she found comfort in the familiar script, so dear and recognizable.
My Dearest Elinore,
I cannot believe we could not return to see you off! I am heartsick! Although I’m sure you have packed everything well and soundly, I cannot help but wish that I could have pressed some dried flowers into your things, hidden for you to find upon your arrival at your new home. I had hoped we would leave Hartfordshire long before now, but father’s business is not yet concluded and I am obliged to stay to assist my mother in looking after my siblings. Oh, how I wish I could see you off!
For as long as we have been friends, your parents were a second set of caregivers to me and I feel their loss keenly, though not as keenly as you must. I know you have told me not to worry, but I am a worrisome creature and when you are far from my sight, I think of you often and hope you are well. I am beside myself.
Dear Ellie, I hope you are well. I was shocked to read in your last letter that you have been taken in by an uncle through marriage. I confess I don’t recall you mentioning any relations to which you and your family were close and feel so desperately unsure for you at the moment. Are you well acquainted with the family? Your mother, god bless her soul, never mentioned her sister nor her husband, your uncle. Although, we were so long children that perhaps she did and I merely didn’t listen because it wasn’t about pirates or fairy sprites or dread creatures lost in lagoons. Such were always our fancies and I hardly have a recollection of our childhood that I can rely on. Instead I recall fondly battles fought in the woods, horrid tales told by candlelight and dreadful stories.
Will there be any ladies where you are going? You mentioned your mother’s sister had passed and it was her husband taking you in. Surely there must be some congenial kinship to be had. Father says the family resides at an estate several miles from home. I have resolved to inquire to find out all that I can so that I may know where you are and how you are living. Though I am devastated you will be gone by the time I return back to home, I take comfort in the fact that your uncle sent for you so quickly upon your parents’ death. He must desire you to be close to the bosom of his heart in this saddest of times.
Elinore, I confess I feel quite selfish at the moment. Although I am so grateful you have family to take you in, I am terribly distraught at the thought of being so far away from you! How I wish you could come live with my family in your time of need. I suggested as much to mother and begged her to enquire about it, but she said we must abide by your family ties and their wish to have you close. Blood will care for blood, she says, though I cannot imagine anyone being closer to you than I, nor to me than you.
Please indulge my selfishness and write to me as soon as you arrive at your new home. I look forward to reading your descriptions! You always have the most wondrous way with words. I’m also eagerly awaiting your next installment in our dire tales! It will take so much longer for us to complete our writings so far apart, but I’ve no doubt we’re up to the challenge.