Ravenwood(89)

Elinore frowned, not certain what Mrs. Thistlewaite was trying to intimate with her intent gaze. “I think that all families do well when together. Although,” Elinore added, thinking again of Hayter, “I think that benevolence and affection are two very important qualities that must be tempered with any sort of dominance or command. For surely without such temperament, one may be living under a sort of tyranny.”

Mrs. Thistlewaite seemed to relax, her shoulders slumping. “Yes. Just so. I’m pleased to hear that is your opinion. It’s why I think you shall make an excellent Alpha for Ravenwood.”

“Pardon me?” Elinore said quickly.

“Seeing the way the men reacted to you today, and your kindness in dealing with all of us at Ravenwood, well…” Mrs. Thistlewaite smiled. “I think your constitution is what this house needs.”

“But Hayter is the Alpha of Ravenwood,” Elinore added dumbly, as though Mrs. Thistlewaite did not already know it.

“Yes, and although the people of the manor follow his words in action, they do not follow them in heart.”

“But what can be done, Mrs. Thistlewaite?” Elinore asked, her eyes imploring the older woman. Elinore understood what Mrs. Thistlewaite was implying - Hayter was not a good Alpha to Ravenwood, to the pack. A pack that included all the human souls of the manor as well as the wolves. But Elinore wasn’t sure what she could do about it. She was a woman. Though her parents taught her to be a free-thinking person and to cultivate her mind, she was still bound by societal rules and always would be.

Wouldn’t she?

A deep longing dared to take root in her heart for something more, something greater than what she was or what she’d been lead to believe she could achieve. Was it to be Alpha of Ravenwood? But how? Elinore doubted very much Hayter would simply hand over the title and even if he could relinquish it, would not Caleb, who had been a wolf his whole life, and was a man to boot, be a better choice? What sort of Alpha could Elinore be, hemmed in as she was by society’s restrictions? Good lord, she wasn’t even able to publish a book under her own name. How on earth was she to be an Alpha?

“I think you already know what can be done,” Mrs. Thistlewaite said, her eyes boring into Elinore’s. “Are you willing and able to do it?” With that, Mrs. Thistlewaite stood and left the dining room, heading back into the kitchen, leaving Elinore to ponder the question. Was she willing and able to do what needed to be done? Willing? Perhaps so, yes. Able? She wasn’t sure. She was not even sure if these were questions she could ask Caleb. Would his loyalty be first to Hayter?

Elinore retired to her room that night with too many thoughts swirling in her head. Mrs. Davenport arrived with her usual pot of tea and Elinore happily invited the woman into her room, sitting in her chair as Mrs. Davenport poured and handed her a cup. Thinking back on her conversation with Caleb, Elinore considered her drink.

“Does this contain some sort of tonic to help me sleep?”

Mrs. Davenport stilled and then nodded slightly, taking a seat on the ottoman. “It does. I’m sorry for the deception.”

“It keeps me asleep, keeps me here when the omega howls?”

Again, the older woman nodded. “Yes. But as we get closer to the full moon, its effects are limited. I do not know what will happen tomorrow night.”

Caleb promised to return by the full moon, but what if he was unable? Her chest seized at the thought. She drank Mrs. Davenport’s tea, willing it to continue to be enough. The idea of being compelled by Hayter to leave Ravenwood, to traipse among the woods, to be pulled to him unnaturally, left her feeling cold. Mrs. Davenport wrung her hands, looking positively miserable and Elinore reached out and placed her hand on top of the older woman’s.

“Let us not borrow trouble from the future.”

Mrs. Davenport appeared somewhat mollified at Elinore’s words and Elinore was glad at least one of them took comfort from them.

“Would you like me to brush your hair, miss?”

Elinore’s eyes rested on her hairbrush, sitting innocuously on the nightstand. She thought of Caleb brushing out her hair and shook her head, offering Mrs. Davenport a smile.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Davenport. Not tonight.”

She nodded and then departed, leaving Elinore alone with her thoughts. True to Mrs. Davenport’s words, although the tea made Elinore drowsy, it did not lull her into sleep as it had before. The moonlight poured through the open window along with the cool night air. Elinore could smell the trees of the forest, the grass, and perhaps even the lavender many miles away. At some point during the night, she knew not exactly when, she found herself creeping toward the window and standing in the moonlight, turning her hand over in the silver light and watching it play across her fingers. She squinted at the moon, so close to being full. Caleb would return, with or without Hayter, she told herself. He swore she would not go through her first full moon alone. She believed him. He would be back.

But what of Hayter?

Thinking about him caused frustration and anger to course through her veins. How dare he bite her in the forest that night? She felt pricks of pain in her palms and looked down to see long claws extending from her fingernails. They dug into the soft flesh of her hands as she curled her fingers in frustration. She unclenched her fingers, seeing small slits on her palms. She raised her claws up to the moonlight, examining them. She tapped one against the sill, feeling the reverberations travel through it and up her finger. How extraordinary. She did the same with all four fingers, marveling at the sensation. They felt as much hers as her own fingernails. She hadn’t felt pain when they appeared, but remembering the horrid sounds of the omega shifting, Elinore wondered if the same could be said for a full transformation. She feared the pain, but not as much as she feared not being a wolf. She wanted to change. She thought of the white wolf - strong legs, large paws, powerful jaw, sharp teeth. Perhaps Elinore could and would be a match for Hayter. She’d no idea how female wolves compared to their male counterparts. Her entire life, she’d been told, reminded of, scolded, for being the weaker sex, but what if that were no longer true?