Eloisa's Adventure

by King, Rebecca

  “Oh God, we are going to die if we don’t get out of this storm soon,” she moaned, and stared in horror as the door began to bang loudly. Thankfully it didn’t open, and she managed to a little more distance between herself and it. As far as she was concerned though, the foot or so she moved wasn’t enough.

  “Slow down!” she screamed when the carriage began to tilt dangerously to one side as it took a corner at a speed that was nothing short of reckless. She began to slide across the seat, back toward the door she was desperately trying to avoid. When she tried to grab the strap, she found it impossible let go of the seat before she was thrown onto the floor. When the carriage bounced into one particularly deep rut in the road, she was tossed unceremoniously onto the seat opposite. She crawled back to the other side of the carriage with a huff and braced herself for the next jolt.

  When the carriage began to tip the other way, she slid toward the still rattling door. She winced when another loud rumble of thunder crashed overhead. The crack of lightning that followed made her squeal. She clamped her hands over her ears to block out the horrendous noise and turned her head to see out of the opposite side of the carriage. Before she could identify much of the landscape, the door beside her crashed open, and she was staring out at the passing hedgerow.

  “Hello?” Eloisa screamed. “Stop the carriage!”

  The violent wind tore the rest of her words out of her mouth. The door swung wildly and banged against the side of the carriage with alarming force. When she tried to catch it, she screamed in fear when she got too close to the doorway and the road loomed up at her.

  Rainwater lashed into the carriage and soaked the skirts of her dress, but that was of little consequence. She couldn’t catch the door to close it, and it was impossible to call for help. Before she was able to decide what to do, the carriage bounced into yet another deep rut in the road. The sudden jerking motion threw her out of her seat, and onto the floor with a resounding thud. The silken material of her skirts aided her slide toward the open door and the darkness that threatened to swallow her.

  “Help!” she screamed when rainwater pelted her in the face. “Help! Stop the coach.”

  She grabbed the edge of the carriage with desperate fingers and twisted around to try to get into the centre of the floor. To her horror her legs were confined by the voluminous folds of her dress. She didn’t have enough strength to hold the full force of her weight for long and felt her desperate grasp start to slip.

  “Help me!” she screamed as her body was blown about by the wind. The road rushed by horrendously close, but she daren’t look down.

  The carriage started to slow as it took a corner. Unfortunately, it was too late to save Eloisa, who couldn’t hold on any longer. The wind took her breath and snatched her scream with relentless brutality as the solidity of the carriage left her icy grasp. The last of her breath escaped her in a loud whoosh as she landed with a heavy thump in the hedge at the side of the road. The shock of her fall left her gasping, and she lay still for a moment while she stared blankly up at the sky.

  At least you are alive, she thought as she sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward. While she began to take stock of her injuries, she listened to the low rumble of carriage wheels fade into the distance. She didn’t need to see through the dark to know that the carriage had left her behind.

  “Come back,” Eloisa gasped, only to find that her lungs wouldn’t work as well as they used to. To her disgust, she turned her head in time to watch the carriage take another corner at the end of the road, and disappear from sight without slowing its pace. It was several moments before her mind registered the fact that there was no footman on the seat at the rear of the carriage. Indignation warred with disbelief that any driver could be stupid enough to lose two of his passengers and not know it. There was nothing she could do about it now though. She had more important matters to deal with, like how to find her way home.

  In spite of her trembling limbs, the sharp prick of hedge in the back of her arms and legs forced her to move. She wriggled and writhed and eventually managed to fight her way free of the prickly thorns. However, by the time she stood at the side of the road, her legs trembled so fiercely that she thought she was going to keel over. She had to lock her knees to remain upright.

  When her breathing had settled into its normal rhythm, she studied her surroundings and took stock of her situation. Apart from hedgerows and fields, the landscape was completely devoid of life. Her cry was loud when it became evident that she could ostensibly be the only person for miles around. To add to her horror, the one building that was still visible was the rather haunting castle.

  “You are not going there,” she assured herself darkly, and quickly turned her back.

  She looked down at her soiled dress and blinked away the salty sting of tears. She didn’t need much in the way of light to know that it was ruined beyond repair. The water stains would be impossible to get out, even if the voluminous skirts hadn’t been liberally splattered with mud, thorns and twigs.

  Snivelling miserably, she flicked a sodden curl out of her face and stared down at her soft soled shoes. Although they were perfect for dancing, they were useless for a walk through the countryside. They were already soaked, leaving her toes frozen and her feet numb.

  “Clumsy great oaf,” she snorted in disgust as she threw a dour glare after the carriage. “If he comes back, I will give that useless buffoon a piece of my mind that he won’t forget.”

  Although she didn’t know much about weather, she was aware that it was incredibly dangerous to be out in the middle of a storm as ferocious as this. She had to find shelter if she didn’t wish to be struck by lightning, or drowned. Desperate to avoid the castle at all costs, she turned in a wide circle while she tried to decide what to do. If she knew where she was she might have a chance of trying to get herself to safety. Unfortunately, she was thoroughly lost.

  A looming shadow hovered in the background of her thoughts but she quashed it. Instead she turned her attention to deciding whether she should stay where she was and hope someone would come to look for her. After all, the coachman would realise he had lost his passengers when he got to his destination – wouldn’t he? Would he even bother to try to find her? Unfortunately, there was nothing to say that the carriage’s owner knew that the carriage was being used to take her to the ball. Maybe the owner would object to his conveyance being taken out again in search of a guest who shouldn’t even be there.

  She sighed when another rumble of thunder sounded overhead. She knew that she would be struck by lightning if she didn’t move soon. Which way should she go?

  Once more, a dark shape teased the periphery of her vision. She closed her eyes and willed it to go away but it remained in the forefront of her mind, just waiting for her to acknowledge it.

  The huge gothic castle was shrouded in the darkest of secrets, of that she had no doubt. Although it was the only building she had seen since leaving the village, she was not going to knock on its doors and ask anything from whoever owned it. The huge turrets were something straight out of her worst nightmares and she hadn’t even seen the rest of the building. What she had seen of the massive stone castle horrified her. It was the last place she should go to seek refuge.

  A scream erupted from her when a loud crack of thunder sounded behind her. It rumbled on for several moments longer than it ought to. A flash of lightning brought about another crack, closer this time, and altogether different. She spun around and stared in terror at the large branch that now lay in the middle of the road. Unless she was going to clamber through the branches now, she was left with little choice. She had to go back the way she came.

  Unfortunately, that brought forth the very real possibility that if she wanted to stay alive, she must knock on the door of the first house she came across. It galled her that place of refuge was the castle she would much rather forget. A deep sense of foreboding swept through her at the thought of having to knock on that particular door, bu
t there really was nothing else she could do.

  “You have to do it,” she whispered.

  Dread made her feet heavy, but she began to walk down the tree-lined lane. She looked up at the canopy of trees that swung wildly in the wind and shuddered when an acute sense of loneliness swept through her. This was the worst place she could be. She needed to get out into the fields before any more of the branches came down and she was struck by one of them.

  Her curse was as uncharacteristic as it was bitter as she lifted her skirts and walked as fast as she could toward refuge. The stones and pebbles that littered the road bit painfully through the thin soles of her dancing slippers. She tried to avoid as many as possible but, by the time she reached the field, her feet were bruised and sore. Battered by the storm, Eloisa had little choice but to head toward the one place she would much prefer to forget: the castle. With any luck, nobody would be at home.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Simeon tucked his chin into the folds of his cloak and tugged his hat low in a futile attempt to block out the rain. As long as he didn’t move his head the rainwater wouldn’t go down the back of his neck and soak his shirt. Keeping his head still though was damned near impossible because his horse kept sliding in the muddy quagmire that used to be his field. As a result, he was cold, tired, thoroughly fed up, and annoyed he had to make this journey at all.

  “Damn it, Humphrey, slow down,” he cursed when the horse stumbled heavily over a deep rut. He could understand the beast’s eagerness to get out of the storm because he too would rather be anywhere else but here.

  The last thing he wanted to do was head back to Mitchelham Castle so soon after his last visit but, having received that mysterious letter, but he had no choice. When he had read the unsigned note, his first instincts had been to toss the wretched thing into the fire and ignore it. However, the warning it contained plagued him.

  The letter had come from someone in Mitchelham village who had witnessed unusual activity in the supposedly empty castle. They suspected someone was stealing from the place. Although no dates, times or culprits had been mentioned, Simeon had to find out for himself what was going on.

  After his last visit three weeks ago he had hoped he had seen the last of the place. Now though, Fate had drawn him back with determined fingers, and rendered his life miserable once more.

  “Thank you God,” he growled when a particularly loud rumble of thunder made his horse, Humphrey, increase his pace again.

  Simeon glared balefully at the flash of lightning that streaked across the sky. The roiling dark clouds matched his mood and seemed to befit the dark occasion. The only positive he could find in this situation was that he could now get several matters settled before, hopefully, he could leave and never come back.

  He wished now that he had taken the time to instruct an agent in London to put the awful castle up for sale. Why on earth anyone would wish to live in such a forbidding mausoleum was anyone’s guess. After the trouble it had brought him in the short space of time he had owned it, he couldn’t wait to get it off his hands so he could get on with his life. Since he had inherited it several weeks ago, it had rapidly become the bane of his life. As soon as the personal family papers had been collected, he could search the place thoroughly, as suggested in the note, and then make his way to his own estate in Cumbria.

  Given what had happened of late, he rather wished that he hadn’t left Cumbria at all now. He hated London in the season. It seemed to be full of giggling debutants and match-making mama’s who materialised in front of him every time he stepped out of his front door. He had so many women of all shapes and sizes paraded in front of him like mares at a horse market that he didn’t know whether to ask them to dance or place a bid.

  It would be humorous if it wasn’t so damned worrying. One wrong word; one wrong look, and he knew he would be forced to attend someone’s social engagement where women would be waiting in packs to stalk their prey. He had a new compassion for the deer on his estate during hunting season. He was damned sure that if he stood still in London for too long, he would be stalked, hunted down, rendered useless, and dragged home to stand vacantly before the hearth by the finest of matrimonial hunters.

  “Come on boy,” he muttered when his horse stumbled over the rough ground and nearly unseated him. “Not long now.”

  He eyed his horse’s drooping head and knew the animal was as miserable as he was. The familiar sight of Mitchelham on the horizon didn’t bring him any joy though, in spite of it being the only refuge from the inclement weather. He knew what awaited him in the cold stone walls would bring him more trouble than answers. All he could do was just pray that the next few days were going to work in his favour. If not, then his newly acquired inheritance could cost him significantly more than work – like his life.

  Once again, the circumstances of his late Uncle George’s demise rose to the forefront of his mind. It still remained a mystery whether George had accidentally ingested the poison that had killed him via a drink, or a meal. Whichever way, nothing had been found to indicate that George had taken his own life. Unfortunately, that led Simeon to suspect that his late uncle had been murdered by person, or persons, unknown. Looking at the castle now, it was easy to believe that it was the place where a murder had been carried out. Especially after what had happened to him the last time he had chosen to stay overnight.

  “What the hell?” he muttered.

  He pulled Humphrey to a halt and stared at the haunting sight just a few feet ahead of him. Was his imagination playing tricks? If it wasn’t for the rainwater trickling down the side of his face, he would have thought it was some incredible dream. Had he conjured her up out of boredom from the endless riding? Or had the continual deluge of water softened his brain and turned it to mush?

  Unless he had gone decidedly loopy, there was a woman, all alone, walking toward Mitchelham. Not only that, but the woman wore what appeared to be a ball gown. It wasn’t just any old ball gown though. Her ball gown would have been fashionable about twenty years ago.

  Who was she? Where could she have come from? She looked like one of his ancestors from a bygone age whose portrait hung in the entrance hall at home.

  He turned in the saddle and glanced around them but couldn’t see anyone else. There was no broken down carriage on the road, and nobody else for miles around. Why she was walking toward Mitchelham as slowly as if she was out for an afternoon stroll? Was she not aware of the weather?

  “Whoever she is, she has no business being near that damned place,” he groused and threw a glare at Mitchelham.

  Indeed, he knew she would be considerably better off if she turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Even being out in the thunder storm was better than spending a night in the dark and dangerous confines of Mitchelham. He was the unfortunate owner of the place, yet even he would be lucky to be alive come morning. If Uncle George had been poisoned, there was no way of knowing where the poison was stored, in which container, and on what surface. The thought of allowing anyone else inside those stone walls to risk their lives left him with a deep sense of foreboding that made him want to usher her away from the danger.

  “Heaven save me from troublesome females,” he mumbled.

  He eased his hold on the reins and didn’t need to nudge Humphrey before the horse began to plod toward Mitchelham, and Simeon’s unfortunate guest.

  Eloisa winced when she stepped on another pebble. Now that she came to think about it more carefully, maybe walking across the field hadn’t been such a good idea after all. She was soaked, frozen to her bones, and absolutely exhausted. Not only that but she was miserably disappointed that she had been denied the chance to attend the ball.

  She felt the sharp sting of tears when she looked at her ruined gown. Unfortunately that was the least of her troubles right now. A deep sense of foreboding had settled over her as soon as she had entered the field. It had continued to grow the closer she got to the rather dubious sanctuary that awaited her. Her
worry had now become so bad that she seriously considered taking her chances in the storm and walking straight past the horrible looking building.

  The sudden jangle of what sounded like a harness snapped her out of her melancholy musings. She frowned at the ground beneath her feet and looked at the field ahead of her. The landscape was as empty as it had been when she had first stepped into a field. Although she tried to hear something – anything - the wind snatched all other sound. It made her feel more isolated than ever.

  “You do know that you are trespassing on private property?” Simeon drawled as he reined his horse into a slow walk beside the beautiful stranger.

  Eloisa whirled around and stared up at him in shock. Her squeal was swallowed by the wind but it didn’t erase the horror that swept through her as she studied the huge black beast of a horse. His soulless brown eyes glared at her through the darkness, but that was nothing compared to the sinister sight of his master. Her gaze travelled along the horse’s long mane and came to rest upon the man who rode the animal.

  She immediately took a step back.

  Good Lord, he is huge, she gulped. Who was he? Where had he come from? How long had he been behind her?

  “I said, you are on private property,” he repeated when she didn’t appear to have heard him. Given how strong the winds were he shouldn’t really be surprised.

  Eloisa jerked when she realised he was waiting for her to answer him. She glanced around blankly before she remembered her mission. Her hand trembled when she lifted a finger to point at the castle.

  “I am on my way there,” she replied shakily.

  She didn’t want to look at him again, but was compelled to anyway. Was he real? She was sure that highwaymen had stopped operating in this county many years ago. However, from his appearance, she wasn’t sure whether to put her hands up, or hand him her jewellery. He was huge and, dressed entirely in black as he was, incredibly sinister.