Ravenwood(54)

“Does it pain you at all, miss?” Her sharp eyes settled on Elinore’s face and Elinore shook her head.

“No. Is that bad?”

Truth be told, she felt fine. Perhaps better than fine. She felt she had endless energy and wanted to do something, go somewhere, open the window again and breathe in the night air and just… run. Yes, that was it. She wanted to run.

“No, of course not.” Mrs. Davenport patted her soothingly on the hand, as she was wont to do. “I just… I worry for you.”

“Do you think I need a doctor? Is it serious?”

Mrs. Davenport hesitated, her mouth twisting and curving as she tried to find her words. “No. You’ll be fine. Ravenwood is your home now.”

It was hardly an answer and Elinore would have to ponder it later. At the moment, she had another pressing concern, something that came to mind this afternoon when Hayter had presented her with his unsuitable gift.

“Mrs. Davenport,” she began briskly, “there’s no easy way to say this. I hope I can rely on your sensibilities and simply ask.” Elinore squared her shoulders. “I need a chair for my room.”

Whatever Mrs. Davenport thought Elinore was going to say, that was not it. She shook her head in confusion. “I’m sure we can have one ordered for you. What sort of chair were you wanting?”

“I’m afraid I cannot wait. I must have a chair this evening and it must be of a height to be jammed under the handle of my door so that it cannot be opened from the outside.”

Mrs. Davenport’s eyes went wide. “Surely you don’t mean… Oh, but Miss Reed, Elinore,” Mrs. Davenport coaxed. “You are perfectly safe here at Ravenwood. No one would dare-“

“I fear someone would dare and wouldn’t in fact consider it much trouble at all.”

Mrs. Davenport regarded Elinore for a moment, a heavy silence between the two of them. Finally, she nodded, her throat working up and down as she swallowed nervously. “There’s an extra chair in one of the other guest rooms further down the hall that would be of a serviceable height. It shan’t be missed. I shall have one of the footmen fetch it for you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Elinore took Mrs. Davenport’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure you think I’m being foolish. But I’d rather be a fool with a chair stuck under her door than … well… thank you,” she repeated.

Mrs. Davenport nodded, a tight expression on her face as she stood. “I don’t think you foolish. Not at all. I think Ravenwood has been waiting for you. We’ve all been waiting for you.”

Her words were like a pleasant, heavy stone in Elinore’s stomach - not one that made her feel sick, but one that made her feel anchored as though she belonged. Before Elinore could reply, Mrs. Davenport curtseyed quickly, something she’d never done for Elinore and made her exit. Elinore watched the doorway after she left for several minutes.

True to Mrs. Davenport’s word, there was a knock at Elinore’s her door half an hour later. On the other side, a footman wordlessly presented her with a solid, sturdy chair. She tested it under the door and was quite satisfied with the results.

Elinore spent the evening stretched out on the floor, most uncomfortably, penning another letter to Charlotte and working on some of her writing. Perhaps she should ask for another chair and a desk! Until then, the floor would have to do. She’d burned through two candles by the time she finished and was surprised to find it dark outside. Standing, stretching out her stiff and sore joints, she made her way to the window, snuffing the candle so she could to see out the glass. She wondered if the wolf she saw the other day was still there, somewhere. She thought perhaps it was, although she couldn’t say why she was certain. As if the universe had heard her thoughts, the sound of a wolf howl broke through the night - the same off-tune sound that made her neck prickle and her ears hurt. The feral wolf. It was out there, she was sure of it. She had the same strange urge as the night before - to leave her room and follow the sound. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, feeling her wounds pulse in time with her heartbeat, as though they had been awakened by the call of the feral wolf. But that was madness, wasn’t it?

She drew the curtains closed and turned her back to the window. Sitting on her bed, she drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. She would not leave this room. Not tonight. She would not.

The howl broke through her thoughts again, cutting to the heart of her, like a sharp knife through soft, tender meat. She would not leave the room, she repeated to herself. She would not.

Her stomach rolled with nausea and she thought she may have to make use of the pot under her bed, but she clamped her lips tightly and found comfort in a slight back and forth rocking motion. She would not leave her bed, she would not answer the strange call of the wolf. Finally, she drifted into a restless sleep.

Elinore’s dreams were fitful. She was in the woods with the white wolf and could hear the feral wolf circling her, though she could not see it. The white wolf peered into the foliage at regular intervals and growled, lips curling back over its teeth. Her teeth, Elinore realized. The white wolf was a female. She felt a certain kinship to her now. A group of ravens circled them and she wracked her brain trying to remember what they were called. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, repeating the words over and over: a rafter of turkeys, a murder of crows, an exaltation of larks… an unkindness of ravens. How strange. She felt very safe with them.