Ravenwood(2)
Please write soon. I must know how you are faring, dear Ellie. I am already penning another letter to be sent directly to the estate’s mail in the hopes that it shall be there waiting for you when you arrive. I understand it is quite remote and I dare not even guess how long correspondence will take to travel back and forth. I hope that we correspond so frequently that even after a short time, our letters will be so familiar to the postman that he will double his efforts to deliver them speedily, knowing how dear we are to one another!
All my love and fiendish friendship
Charlotte
Several times over the last few days, Elinore had imagined herself completely dry of tears, having shed them all, but seeing her friend’s familiar penmanship and reading her words in the darkening interior of the carriage had her blinking furiously in an effort not to cry. She pulled a clean, dry handkerchief out of her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. Carefully folding Charlotte’s letter along the frayed folding lines, she tucked it back safely in her small pouch. She had tried to write in the carriage, but she lacked a solid surface on which to lay her paper and the buck and sway of the mighty wooden beast was too much - causing her words to spill out nearly illegible. Returning Charlotte’s correspondence would have to wait until she was at Ravenwood.
Ravenwood. Her new home.
Elinore had not even heard of it prior to the letter received by her late father’s solicitor. She had no notion of what was waiting for her at the end of her long carriage ride. She only knew that her uncle, Hayter Vollmond, had called Elinore to live with him at the remote estate after the death of her parents. Elinore felt she was quite capable of looking after herself, however, society had no such ideas. Seeing her as a young, single lady of marriageable age who was slowly yet inexorably tipping toward spinsterhood, she’d been socially obliged to accept the offer. Her parents’ will had left everything to her, but her father’s solicitor had been all too visibly relieved to find out there was an older male relation willing to ‘take Elinore on’ and had already started the proceedings transferring the estate to Mr. Vollmond.
Elinore’s mother and her sister, Victoria, had lost regular contact after they had both married, as was sometimes the way with sisters, and Elinore had never had the chance to meet her late aunt, nor ask her mother many questions about her. The most Elinore knew was that her mother often commented on how much Elinore took after Victoria. As a child, Elinore had given this no further thought than other things her mother told her such as ‘don’t swing your feet while in a chair,’ or ‘do not slurp your soup.’ As she grew older, though, Elinore often wondered what it was like for her mother to see her sister’s face in that of her daughter. Did it make her mother miss her sister more? Less? Was it a comfort or a burden? Elinore wished she thought to ask her mother if she also took after her aunt in manner as well as in appearance. Had Victoria been a voracious reader like Elinore? Was she amusing? Had she liked long, intricate tales and going for leisurely walks on cloudy days? But of course, such things hadn’t seemed important to Elinore at the time, and so she’d never asked. Now, on her way to live with her late aunt’s husband and his household, she could only hope they were genial folk with whom she may hopefully share some common interests.
The sun had set by the time the carriage stopped at the Haleton train station - the fat, orange orb already slung low beneath the horizon. Though the chill of the night approached, Elinore was grateful for the chance to stretch her legs and take a short walk, free from the dark confines of the carriage. The older couple toddled off together, arm in arm, the gentleman carrying a solid looking travel bag that presumably held both their possessions. Elinore watched them walk away, each still leaning on one another, her heart feeling sad and a little heavy at the sight. The other man in the carriage, his name she did not know, was also departing, leaving Elinore’s three bags affixed to the boot of the carriage looking lonely and bereft.
Or perhaps that was simply how she felt herself.
When the driver let loose the other gentleman’s bags, Elinore took the opportunity to fetch her cloak, pulling it around her shoulders, grateful for its weight. It was getting too cold for only her shawl. Elinore had to clear her throat before speaking, her voice soft and slightly rough from disuse. “I beg your pardon, how much farther to Ravenwood Manor?”
The driver, an older man of perhaps fifty or so, shook his head. “Oh, miss, I’m not sure myself. I never go farther than Haleton.” At Elinore’s perplexed frown, he continued. “Not many guests go out to Ravenwood. They’ll be sending their own driver to take the carriage the rest of the way. I’ll be assisting with the horse change and then I’m on my way again back the way we came.”
“Ravenwood is not one of your regular stops?” Elinore asked.
The older driver shook his head. “No, miss. I received word that someone would come to fetch you proper and take you there.”
“I see. Thank you.”
He tipped his hat at her and, at her request, lit a small lamp for the interior of the carriage so that she may read once she had to board again. Not quite ready to crawl into the darkened interior just yet, Elinore settled herself on a hard bench in the train station, where she could watch the passengers boarding the departing train. She took Charlotte’s letter out, but didn’t read it. She simply turned it over in her hands, running her fingers over the frayed edges. The passengers in the station hustled and bustled about, talking to one another, some saying tearful goodbyes and others looking glad to be leaving. Finding her thoughts turning maudlin without anything to do, Elinore tucked Charlotte’s letter away again and took out her knitting needles and a small ball of yarn and started working on a pair of socks. She thought about trying to write something to Charlotte, or perhaps work on one of her stories, but it likely wouldn’t do to get so involved in something when the Ravenwood driver would be along shortly and she’d just have to pack it all up again.