The door to the library opened and Elinore dropped the book, flipping it end over end as she scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground. She managed to catch it in her lap, looking up at Mrs. Davenport, who stood in the doorway. Elinore was certain guilt was all over her face.
“Mrs. Davenport, you startled me.” Elinore stood and brushed out the serviceable fabric of the gown. “Ravenwood is so quiet. I hardly hear anyone coming and going.” Not at all like her old home - smaller, in the city. Elinore would hear carriages and horses outside on the street and snippets of conversation.
“My apologies, miss. I’ve come to help you get ready for dinner.”
“Oh?” Elinore asked, looking down at what she was wearing. It was clearly not hers, not fitting her at all, but it was clean and tidy.
“Mr. Hayter indicated at lunch you should wear some of the late Mrs. Vollmond’s things.” Mrs. Davenport glanced at the clock. “I should have come sooner, but I was caught up in my duties. If you come with me now, we’ll have you ready for dinner.”
“All right.” Elinore glanced back at the chair. The book she’d been reading had slipped between the cushion and the armrest. It would surely not be noticed. She hoped.
Mrs. Davenport kept up a light stream of conversation as they made their way back up the stairs. She asked after Elinore’s day, asked how Elinore got along with Alice, asked if there was anything Elinore needed. Elinore had never felt so much the centre of attention in her life and she said as much in reply.
“You probably don’t want to hear the natterings on of an old woman,” Mrs. Davenport said.
“I hope you don’t think that’s what I meant,” Elinore said in quick reply, worried the housekeeper had taken offense. “I’m quite flattered and very touched by the care you’ve shown me in the short time I’ve been here. I was quite nervous on the journey over and had a dreadful night with the accident, but you’ve been very kind and friendly to me. I appreciate it more than I can say.”
Elinore thought Mrs. Davenport blushed, looking quite pleased at Elinore’s words. “Thank you, miss.”
“I thank you in return, Mrs. Davenport.”
Just outside the door to her chamber, Mrs. Davenport paused. “I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me in a moment, dear. We’ve got to get you into one of Mrs. Vollmond’s gowns.”
Elinore had all of three seconds to be confused before Mrs. Davenport opened the door and showed Elinore the elaborate red gown she’d laid out on the bed.
“Oh, dear.”
Evidently, her aunt had been quite slender of waist - more so than Elinore would have guessed from the portrait downstairs.
“We’d best get to it.”
Forty minutes later, Elinore was slightly breathless as she stood in front of the mirror and saw her reflection in the dramatic red gown. She wished she could her difficulty breathing was from the shock of seeing how fine she looked but truth be told, she scarcely had room to breath and had to manage with quick, short breaths.
“You’re more robust than the late Mrs. Vollmond. Heartier constitution. She was always a slip of a thing.”
“Are you sure this is necessary?” Elinore asked. She didn’t want to waste all the effort that had gone into getting her into the corset and the layered gown, but it was dreadfully tight. She had to stand ramrod straight, raising even her neck slightly and still it felt like the seams may burst at any moment. Mrs. Davenport assured her everything she was wearing was well-made and would survive the night.
“Mr. Hayter wishes you to dress for dinner. We must always abide by Mr. Hayter’s wishes.”
Watching the housekeeper was like watching a little church mouse scurry about trying not to be heard. She flitted to the vanity and came back with some pins, securing sections of Elinore’s hair that were not in the least bit loose. She brushed her hands down the deep red fabric, smoothing imaginary lines and divesting it of unseen lint. When a clock chime rang in the hall, Mrs. Davenport straightened, her eyes catching Elinore’s in the mirror.
“All right. To dinner.”
Walking in the corset was intricate - Elinore’s entire upper body was forced into sway with her hips, giving her a rolling gait that felt much more graceful than she was sure it looked. Good heavens, how was she going to sit down in this contraption? It would likely cut her in half. She said a silent prayer to her late aunt, asking for her assistance in not becoming mortally wounded by her clothing that night. Mrs. Davenport appeared to become more and more anxious as they approached the dining room and Elinore wondered what on earth could possibly await her behind the door. Finally, they arrived, Mrs. Davenport taking a moment to check Elinore’s appearance once more.
“There you are, dear. I’m sure you look fine.”
Elinore wanted to ask what she meant, but before she could, the housekeeper was opening the door and motioning Elinore to walk through.
Hayter sat alone at the head of the table, looking up at her expectantly as she came in. Elinore’s eyes quickly scanned the table and saw only one other place setting. Hayter smiled at her entrance, his teeth gleaming slightly in the candlelight. It seemed for a moment that his eyes flashed a strange amber color; it must have surely been only a trick of the light.
“Dear Elinore. Good evening.” He stood and bowed.
She bobbed her head slightly. “Good evening, Uncle.” She hesitated by the door and saw his lips thin slightly at her address.
He gestured for her to come forward, pulling her chair out and waiting for her to sit. Rubbing her fingers together nervously, she stepped forward. The walk to the chair seemed interminably long, as though she was walking down a long, thin corridor. She reached her seat and ducked her head slightly, sitting down and gathering her skirt about her.
Hayter pushed her chair in toward the table and then his hand came to rest on her shoulder. She stilled like an animal in the wild, fighting the urge to flinch or curve her body away from his touch. His fingers were solid and firm as they rested on her collar-bone.
“Don’t you look lovely. I had a feeling that you would look wonderful in it. You share the same coloring as my late wife.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” she replied, holding posture straight and stiff. “I’m very grateful for the loan of the garment.”
Hayter made a ‘tsk tsk’ sound. “Not a loan. A gift. You do the dress justice far more so than having it sit in some cabinet going dusty and moth-ridden.”
“That’s very kind of you.” He remained behind Elinore like a long, ominous shadow - just out of her line of sight.
“I trust you had a pleasant afternoon?” His fingers exuded slight pressure against the bones of her collar and she forced a smile to her lips.
“Yes, thank you. I availed myself of your library.”
“Ah, the library,” he said, squeezing the meat of where her neck met her shoulder. “And did you find anything… interesting?”
The way he said the word made her mind instantly flit to the dangerously improper story she’d read about Pasiphae and she wondered if he somehow knew she’d been reading an entirely indecent book for a lady of her station and age. He moved away from her, toward his own chair, his hand trailing across the bare skin of her shoulder as he did. His touch felt slick and raised gooseflesh on her arms.
“Are you cold? Perhaps you should sit closer to me. For warmth.”
She swallowed thickly. “I’m fine. A brief chill, nothing more.” She placed her napkin on her lap, taking a sip of the tepid water that was already at the setting in front of her.
“As for the library, I’m not sure if I’ve found anything of interest yet. You’ve quite a large collection.”
“Ravenwood is particularly well-endowed. With what did you occupy yourself all this time?”
“I met Thistle’s daughter, Alice. We discussed all sorts of things, as girls our ages often do.” Though Elinore believed there was nothing insignificant or inconsequential about her writing or Alice’s drawings, she and Charlotte had long
ago learned the best way to defer attention or notice of their extreme interest in books and writing was to cloak it all in the frivolous vacuity that was generally attributed to their sex.
Hayter smiled, his teeth like sharp swords in his mouth. “Frocks, fabric and flowers?” he asked.
Elinore curved her lips. “Exactly so. I’m sure you’d find it horribly boring.”
“Oh, I doubt I’d find it too tortuous to spend an afternoon between you two.”
Elinore’s heart rabbit-beat at his words. Their delivery and the look he had on his face entirely inappropriate. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief when one of the servants came in bearing two bowls.
“Will your nephew not be joining us?” she asked as her bowl was placed before her. It looked like some kind of stew and her stomach turned over with greedy hunger as the wonderful scent hit her nostrils.
“Ah, Mrs. Thistlewaite’s special, rabbit stew. Quite a treat.” Hayter took a mouthful of stew, rolling it around in his mouth lasciviously before answering her. “I’m afraid my nephew is still occupied out in the woods. I’ve not heard from him all day.”
Elinore took a bite of stew and found her mouth flooding with saliva as it hit her tongue. It was savory and bold, thick and heavy. She looked longingly at the plate of rolls in the middle of the table, wishing she could grab one and tear at it with her teeth and then use the bits of it to soak up all the juice.
“Would you like some bread?” Hayter asked, his head tipping slightly toward the plate and Elinore realized with a flush that she’d been staring unblinking at the rolls.
She swallowed. “Perhaps one, thank you.” Her manners were atrocious this evening. She took a deep breath before having another bite of stew, willing herself to slow down.
“Do hunting trips often keep your nephew from Ravenwood long?” she asked, loathing the thought of eating alone with Hayter again and again.
Hayter’s lips twisted slightly. “At times.”
Elinore pushed her stew around slightly with her spoon. “He mentioned he was hunting the wolf that bit me. Do you hunt as well?”
Something flashed across Hayter’s face; the expression unrecognizable to her. “Most definitely.”
Hayter snapped at one of the servants and he came forward with a decanter, ready to pour Elinore wine. She politely placed the tips of her fingers over the empty glass waiting on the table.
“Thank you. I’m quite fine with water.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Not having wine with dinner is simply… savage,” Hayter replied and he nodded at the servant. Elinore felt she had no choice but to move her hand away so that the poor man could pour. He served her a generous portion and she murmured her thanks, eyeing it carefully.
“You must try it,” Hayter said, picking up his own glass and swirling the liquid before taking a long sip. “It’s from the cellar. I had it brought out to honor you joining us at Ravenwood.”
Elinore took a sip of the dark red wine, the flavor bursting across her tongue. It was heady and smooth, with a hint of fruit. “It’s quite lovely.”
The doors to the dining room opened and Caleb came in, looking slightly wild and unkempt from his day. Elinore couldn’t help the rush of relief she felt upon viewing her cousin. Though she knew him no better than her uncle, there was something more civilized about him. He strode into the room, pulling off his hunting gloves and seating himself across the table from Elinore, to the left of Hayter. Caleb nodded, his head inclining slightly in greeting to Elinore, which she returned with a slight nod of her own. She glanced toward at Hayter, seeing his jaw working slightly.
“I’d not expected you back this evening.”
“The men were tired. I thought it best to return to Ravenwood.”
“Did you?”
They held each other’s gaze until Caleb’s eyes slipped away from Hayter’s, moving down and off to the side. Caleb turned to face Elinore again. “My apologies, Miss Reed. It’s quite rude of me to interrupt your dinner.”
“Think nothing of it.”
In no time at all, Caleb was served with a bowl of stew and a glass of wine, pulling two rolls off the bread plate for himself.
“Am I to understand you had no luck on your hunting trip?” Elinore asked.
“Not as I had hoped.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You’ll be out again tomorrow?” Hayter’s tone was dismissive and though he spoke as though it was a question, it was quite clear from his expression that it was not. Elinore shifted in her seat, trying to find a way to sit up even taller and get a deep breath in with the corset.
“Yes, I will.”
Hayter looked duly unimpressed and Elinore tore a piece of bread apart for something to do with her hands. The motion attracted Caleb’s eyes and then, as if seeing her for the first time, he looked her up and down.
“Is that one of Victoria’s gowns?”
Elinore reflexively touched the gown. “Yes,” she answered, eyes flicking to Hayter quickly and then back to Caleb. “Uncle was kind enough to loan me something to wear for dinner.”
Caleb’s expression was tight. “I’ll inquire with the footmen I sent to retrieve your belongings from the carriage wreck. I’m sure you’d prefer to wear your own things.”
She longed to breathe a relieved sigh, but was not able to in the corset. “Thank you. I cannot wait to have my own things.”
“Hopefully nothing was too badly damaged by being left out in the rain. But if so, you have full access to Victoria’s wardrobe, thankfully.” Hayter placed a large bite of stew in his mouth, his jaw grinding the food mercilessly.
“Thankfully,” Elinore repeated, her voice soft and wane.
“How did you find the library?” Caleb asked her.
She couldn’t help the smile that touched her face. “Quite lovely. I met Alice Thistlewaite and I do believe we shall be kindred spirits.”
Caleb smiled and Elinore realized it was the first time she’d seen him do so. It broke across his face like a ray of sun through a cloudy day and her stomach fluttered. He was, as Alice had commented, shockingly handsome.
Caleb took a long inhale of the wine and then looked at his uncle sharply. “This is one of my parents’ finer vintages.”
Hayter smiled at his nephew - a flash of teeth. “I brought it out to commemorate Miss Reed joining us at Ravenwood. Surely you don’t object?”
“Not at all, but it seems Miss Reed is not much of a wine drinker,” Caleb answered, his eyes flickering to Elinore’s glass which was still mostly full.
“I’m not used to wine with dinner,” Elinore felt the need to say, her fingertips playing over the stem of her wine glass. She took a small sip. “But it’s very good.”
Hayter fixed his nephew with an expression that was both disdainful and smug at once. Elinore had another sip of wine. Perhaps she ought to take drinking up as a hobby if this was how dinners would be at Ravenwood. Caleb settled slightly in his chair, turning to face her again and giving her a small smile. It wasn’t as true and bright as his previous one had been - this was more polite and careful.
“If you like it, Miss Reed, then it was not a waste.”
“Fine delicacies are never wasted around me,” Hayter said, shooting back the remainder of his wine and snapping at the servant to fill his glass again. “I’ve a great many appetites.”
His words hung over the table and the rest of the meal passed in awkward near-silence. Elinore had no wish to engage Hayter in conversation and he and Caleb seemed to have no desire to talk with each other. The stew was spicy and she drank more wine than she’d ever had before. Her thoughts took on a floating, fleeting feeling and she could not quite grasp on to any of them.
Hayter suggested they retire to the parlor after dinner and she calculated that she would have to stay there for at least an hour before she could declare to be worn in from the day and make an escape. Hayter led the way and his manner clearly stated he expected to be followed. Her gait was
still strange from the tightness of the corset and coupled with the wine she drank, she wobbled slightly on her way to the parlor. At one point, she stumbled and then felt Caleb’s hand on her elbow, pulling her back upright. Her eyes met his and he quickly pulled his hand away and looked ahead again.
Hayter pushed open the doors to the parlor and Elinore’s eyes darted around the room. The walls were unusually bare and it was obvious there used to be paintings hanging, but they’d been removed.
“You must forgive the lack of culture in this room. My brother and his wife had several paintings here. I found them not to my taste. I had them removed and am in the process of having something more suitable brought in.”
Elinore couldn’t help but glance at Caleb. Hayter was referring to Caleb’s parents and their things, but his tone was dismissive and almost cruel. Caleb’s face remained expressionless and Elinore wondered if perhaps he had not cared for the paintings either. Hayter had made his way over to a small pianoforte, tucked in one corner and stood by it expectantly. Elinore felt the first stirrings of dread in her stomach.
“You must play for us, Elinore.”
“I only play a very little. I’m not very good.”
“Nonsense.” Hayter dismissed her words with a wave. “I’m sure that’s just your delicate feminine modesty speaking. Victoria was quite proficient.”
“It must be a talent on my mother’s side that was not handed down to me. My mother tried quite diligently to teach me and I also received some instruction from a maestro. Alas, I fear he declared me tone deaf.”
“Your humility is charming. Have a seat,” he invited, gesturing with his hand at the small bench in front of the instrument.
Elinore swallowed tightly. She would have to be quite rude to decline now. She seated herself stiffly at the instrument, wincing as she placed her fingers on the keys. She wracked her brain for the shortest, quickest, easiest piece she knew.
“It’s been some years,” she warned. Hayter looked as eager as a school-boy. Her eyes darted over to Caleb who seemed to know where this was likely going and looked sympathetic. The bite on her arm throbbed as she held her fingers on the keys and she flexed her fingers slightly, hoping that her injury wouldn’t make her playing even worse, though she doubted it was possible. She started playing and immediately hit several wrong notes. She pulled her hands back and placed them in her lap.
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