Ravenwood(24)

Alice continued speaking of Thistle. “He’s awake for brief moments, but then the pain medicine the doctor left puts him right back out.”

“I’m sorry he was so badly injured, but it’s good to hear he’ll recover.”

“He asked after you and wanted to thank you for going off to find help.” Alice’s eyes went dark with worry, glancing down to Elinore’s bandages. “He doesn’t know you were bitten. We’ve not had the heart to tell him.”

“Oh, well. Mrs. Davenport assures me I’ll be set to rights very shortly. It’s hardly worth troubling your father about it.”

“I see Mrs. Davenport has made you some of her poultice.” Alice nodded firmly to herself. “It’s good that she was able to treat it early.”

“I hear there are no rabid creatures around Ravenwood,” Elinore said. By Alice’s expression and her tone, Elinore was wondering if she’d been lied to, if only for her own assurance.

“No,” Alice agreed. “Ravenwood has no… rabid animals.”

“Mister Vollmond, the younger Vollmond, that is, my cousin Caleb, told me he and his men are going out hunting for the wolf.”

“The Misters Vollmond have been searching for sometime,” Alice said carefully. Her eyes were drawn back to the desk upon which Elinore had been working earlier and before Elinore could tidy up her papers, Alice had picked one up and was reading it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s only… I was merely scribbling some thoughts down,” Elinore began, seeing that Alice had picked up one of the sheets of paper on which Elinore had written of her dream.

Alice’s eyes travelled back and forth over the page, consuming the words. “Did you write this?” she asked, looking up at Elinore with large eyes.

“Yes, I… I write. Sometimes,” Elinore fibbed, for truly it wasn’t something she only did once in a while. It was a near constant habit. “They are just musings and notes. Usually only my friend Charlotte sees them.”

Alice’s eyes went back to the paper, reading over the words. “This is … would you let me draw this?”

Elinore blinked at her. “You sketch?”

“Sometimes,” Alice said and Elinore could hear her own tone echoed back to her in Alice’s - the shy, somewhat protective voice of someone whose work was quite dear to them. Alice likely feared censure the same way Elinore did.

“I should be flattered and honored if you would sketch something for me.”

“Have you more? Writings, that is?”

Elinore nodded. “Not with me, as of yet. The remainder of my belongings are on the way to Ravenwood, but yes. I have more. Would you like to see them?”

It was Alice’s turn to nod, her bun bobbing up and down with strands of ebony hair falling loose as it did. “Oh yes, miss. I would love that.”

“Oh, you can’t keep calling me ‘miss.’ Not if we’re going to share our artistic endeavors. You must call me Elinore.”

Alice’s smile was wide and bright. “Thank you. Elinore,” Alice repeated, trying her name out. “I hope we shall be good friends.”

“I hope so too.”





Chapter Six





Elinore could hardly believe her luck when she found out that Alice shared a love of the same reading materials as herself - gothic mysteries, haunting stories, epic romances and mythological tales. Most young ladies were happy reading poetry or drab love stories, but Alice was a girl after Elinore’s own heart, or book collection as it were.

“Have you read ‘A Long and Terrible Winter’ by the Count d’Osray?” Elinore asked.

“No, I’ve not,” exclaimed Alice. “But I’m in love with the title already.”

“Once the rest of my belongings arrive that should be the very first book you read. I can still remember how my heart pounded reading it. The heroine is of fae heritage and she finds herself lost from her world and having to survive in another.” Elinore sighed. “Oh, I stayed up for hours reading. My eyes were like two slits the next day.”

Alice laughed. “I’ve done that before as well! I’m always trying to hide the lamp from my mother, but it’s impossible to hide it fully. Not without setting the entire bed chamber on fire.”

Alice had shown Elinore a small hidden drawer in the desk where she stored some of her drawings along with some charcoal and ink.

“I keep them here because Mr. Vollmond, the elder Mr. Vollmond, I mean, never looks in here. He prefers to do his work in his den.”

“Why do you hide them?”

Alice fiddled with one of her pencils. “Mr. Vollmond doesn’t like it when we aren’t at our duties. I help my mother in the kitchen and sometimes Mrs. Davenport with the manor and other times the maids with the chores. But, if Mr. Vollmond thought I had spare time, he’d find something for me to do.”

Elinore nodded. “I see. Well, I shall keep your secret and your drawings safe.”

“You could keep your writing here as well, if you like. As I said, he manly works in his den.” Alice wrinkled her nose a bit.

“What’s wrong with the den?”

“It’s,” Alice’s eyes darted around a bit. “There are animals in there. Dead ones hanging from the walls. Statues. Stuffed with cotton and fabric. They watch you. It’s dreadful.”