Ravenwood(91)

“Mrs. Davenport, Mrs. Thistlewaite, perhaps you would join me for some tea?” Elinore asked. Looking at the formal dining room table, Elinore made a quick decision. “In the kitchen, I think.” Without waiting for them to answer, she took three tea-cups in one hand and the pot in the other. The two women followed behind her, both of them bringing some of the plates of food. Elinore sat at the small table, and gestured for them both to sit with her. They were hesitant at first, but joined her after she had poured them each a cup of tea.

“Is Alice sitting with Mr. Thistlewaite?”

“Alice is still abed. She was up late last night. Too much… excitement yesterday with the incident.” Mrs. Thistlewaite paused before adding, “And the howling.”

Elinore nodded. “Were many of Ravenwood awake last night?”

“Yes, miss,” Mrs. Thistlewaite answered. “We wanted to keep an eye on the manor.”

“On me,” Elinore said.

Mrs. Thistlewaite wore a steadfast expression. “Yes.”

“You did not leave your room,” Mrs. Davenport said. “Although we were prepared if you tried.”

“Did any of us get a good night’s sleep?” Elinore asked rhetorically, eating a piece of toast. She felt warmer in the kitchen, not in body, but in spirit - sitting with Mrs. Davenport and Thistlewaite calmed her nerves. They passed an amenable breakfast, although Elinore had the weight of the full moon pressing on her shoulders. Her ears were uncommonly sensitive and she did not know if it heralded her turning into a wolf or if she was so anxious for Caleb’s return that she was straining to hear even the slightest sound. After breakfast, she stood up, briskly brushed off her skirt and declared she was going for a walk.

“Is that wise, miss?” Mrs. Davenport asked. “To be out, on your own?”

Elinore gave the question thought. “I’m not sure, Mrs. Davenport. I feel as though I must make my presence known. I also confess I’m so restless, I fear I may start pulling at the seams of my dress or pacing the floorboards. I don’t know if it’s the full moon, or if it’s just nerves. The compulsion to be outside at this moment, to circle the area and take stock…” Elinore trailed off and stared longingly at the back door. “I shall stay within sight of the manor. I don’t intend to go far, but I must go.”

The two older ladies nodded - grim, but accepting.

“The wolf in you wants to check her territory,” Mrs. Davenport said. “We shall keep an eye on you from the manor.”

“Thank you.” Elinore paused at the back door and looked down at a pair of boots that had been left there yesterday by one of the men. “Do you think I could borrow these?”

Mrs. Thistlewaite nearly laughed. “I don’t believe the Mistress of Ravenwood has to ask permission.”

Elinore felt a surge of personal power at the title, the Mistress of Ravenwood. “Perhaps not, but she does anyway.”

“I’m sure the owner will not mind.”

Elinore slipped off her slippers and then slid her feet into the overlarge boots. They wouldn’t do for a long walk, but for a brief spell around the manor, they would suit. The air was crisp and cold in her nostrils as she stepped outside, still carrying the spice of the night air. The grass was wet with morning dew and Elinore was glad of the borrowed boots, too large though they may be. Feeling the eyes of Mrs. Davenport and Thistlewaite on her, she straightened her spine and started for the trees. She felt the truth of Mrs. Davenport’s words - her wolf wanted to check the territory. Elinore took cautious, even steps, not wanting to rush, but neither wanting to linger. Just as she was reaching the trees, a sharp sound caught her attention. She turned, facing the stables. An unkindness of ravens - four of them - circled high above the barn. She hesitated, wondering what it meant. A large, fat raven swooped down and careened to a halt on her shoulder, its talons pressing through the fabric of her dress. It didn’t hurt, but it was a definite pressure. She looked at the bird on her shoulder, its taciturn countenance not letting loose any of its secrets. It stared toward the stables, where the unkindness circled lazily.

To the stables it was, then.

Elinore paused to wave at Mrs. Davenport and Thistlewaite, both of them watchful and stoic at the back entrance. She wondered if she should have taken one of the weapons as she had yesterday. She could always go back and get one, she supposed, but the urge to continue forward, to the stables, pulled her along. The raven on her shoulder alighted once she was within five or so feet, and joined its brethren, black spots moving in an incomprehensible pattern against the pale morning sky.

The stable door was heavy and Elinore had to put all her weight behind it, yanking solidly for it to creak open. She had the urge to call out and announce her presence, and then had just as strong an urge to stay silent. Surely her arrival would have been noted by the loud crack of the door already. Should there be any human souls afoot, they would come to her. And should there be any non-human souls inside… well, they must already know she was there. The horses sounded slightly agitated, stamping their feet and huffing. Perhaps they were hungry? Truth be told, Elinore knew very little of animal husbandry and wasn’t sure if the horses were fed daily or if they always had food in their stalls. A few long snouts peered out from the corrals as she entered, watching her with dark, soulful eyes. There was a small lamp hanging from a nail next to the door with a box of matches on a shelf beside it. She lit the lamp quickly, hoping she had enough sense not to drop it in the dry stables and set the whole thing ablaze. With the lamp held aloft in front of her, Elinore headed deeper inside.