Ravenwood(31)

The knock at the door was sturdy and strong, pulling her out of her reverie.

“Come in.”

Mrs. Davenport entered, carrying a tray similar to the one she had the night before, as well as some clothing over her arm.

“I’ve had the seamstress, Miss Carroway, wash and check some of your clothes for damage,” Mrs. Davenport said, setting the tray down on the bed. She lay out the clothes she was carrying carefully. “She’ll have one of your dresses ready for tomorrow and I’ve had your nightgown dried already.”

“Thank you so much. Please let Miss Carroway know that I certainly don’t expect her to work through the night. If Alice allows, I’ll wear her dress again tomorrow.”

“Mr. Hayter would not be pleased. I’m sure Miss Carroway will be done. Let’s get you a bit more comfortable and have a look at your arm, shall we?”

Mrs. Davenport was just as efficient getting Elinore out of the dress as she had been getting her in it. Elinore swore she could hear her ribs creak and her muscles sigh in relief as the corset was unlaced. She had the very unattractive thought of a long length of sausage being split open and bursting out of its casing as the corset fell away. Once in her nightgown and robe, Elinore sat by the fireplace, Mrs. Davenport taking a seat on the ottoman. She was silent as she worked, unwrapping Elinore’s arm. It was a strange thing, Elinore thought as the bandages were unwound - this fascination she had waiting to see what the wounds looked like.

Black. They were black. Not wholly, not solidly, but tinged around the edges, like badly stained paper. Elinore’s eyes darted from her arm to Mrs. Davenport and back again. She had a tight look about her eyes, her lips thinned and pursed. She set the used bandages down on the floor and Elinore could see the inside of them was also stained dark - black and red.

Another knock at the door made her jump.

“That’ll be the younger Mr. Vollmond. I believe he wanted to check on your wounds as well,” Mrs. Davenport said, patting Elinore on the arm lightly before bidding Caleb enter. Elinore firmly closed the flaps of the nightgown, ensuring it was done up to her neck.

Caleb looked stiff and uncomfortable as he entered, his eyes remaining firmly fixed on Elinore and the housekeeper, as though he might burst into flames if he caught sight of something too feminine or womanly in her bedchamber. As he stepped forward, his eyes moved from Elinore’s face to her arm. His nostrils flared slightly and his jaw flexed.

“I was just about to apply the second poultice, sir,” Mrs. Davenport said, mixing her foul-smelling ingredients on the tray.

Elinore couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that ripped through her teeth as Mrs. Davenport spread the mixture on her arm. It seemed to burn more tonight than it had before and she struggled to stay still. She swore she could almost feel it seeping into the bite marks, traveling up her veins, running through her blood, hot and sharp.

“I wonder if we should change it again in the morning with a fresh application,” Caleb said. Elinore looked back to his face. His words were addressed to Mrs. Davenport as he watched Elinore carefully.

“That might be just the thing,” Mrs. Davenport agreed. Elinore’s nose twitched at the smell of the paste. Mrs. Davenport wrapped her arm in a fresh swath of gauze, pulling it taut and even. The noxious odor diminished some once covered, but Elinore imagined she could still smell the foul odor, tickling the back of her throat. The bite marks throbbed to the pulse of her heart; hotter than they had been moments before.

“Thank you, Mrs. Davenport,” Elinore said, cradling her arm close to her chest. “I’m indebted to you for your ministrations.”

Mrs. Davenport patted Elinore’s knee before cleaning up, gathering all her items on the tray. “Will you need help tonight with your hair?”

“Thank you, I shall be fine.”

Caleb stood stiffly, nodding once curtly at Mrs. Davenport as she left.

Elinore was now alone in her bedchamber with a man. A frightfully good-looking man at that. Her eyes cast about the room nervously.

“I trust you found your things in good order?” Caleb asked, tipping his head toward the trunk. “I was happy to hear the footman had returned with your belongings.”

“Yes, thank you. Mrs. Davenport has already arranged to have some of my clothing cleaned and pressed. My writings and books appear safe as houses.”

“I’m glad.” There was a brief silence wherein they both stood motionless and Elinore waited for inspiration to strike her. She should say something, shouldn’t she? Something witty or intelligent? Anything at all?

Before she could think of anything, Caleb nodded again and then took a step backward. “I bid you goodnight, Miss Reed.”

“Good night, Mr. Vollmond.”

The latch clicked with a soft sound as he left. Though she’d longed all through dinner and afterward to be alone, she found herself slightly sad after Caleb’s departure. She smoothed her hands over her hair, fingers already searching for pins and pulling them out as the day’s events raced through her mind. Lunch, the library, Alice, dinner. Most of all, the puncture marks on her arm - black and deep, looking like hungry, open mouths. She managed to get her hair undone and found her brush in her trunk, relaxing as she pulled it rhythmically through her hair. As she’d pulled it from her things, it seemed as though the scent from her old home wafted up from the trunk, making her throat catch. Homesickness curled deep in her belly. This time of night, she would normally be reviewing what she and Charlotte had written throughout the day, planning out her next ideas.