Twisted Cinders Ch. 04

When she came round, she was shivering on the cold slate flagstones, naked, the fire a clag of dying ashes.

Elise stumbled to the doorway in the dark, and fumbling with the latch, fell out into the stone kitchen yard. The dawn was trying to creep up the field's edge on the horizon; but a heavy, leaden weight of cloud and water blanketed the sky and muted the thin light.

She knelt on the cobbles and let the heavy drops of rain wash her upturned face and shivering form clean. She did not cry, she allowed the numbness to soak her mind along with the downpour.

When she could move, Elise clawed handfuls of lavender and rosemary from the raised beds and returned to the kitchen. With fistfuls of herbs and lukewarm water she began to scrub every inch of her body, until the smell of him was out of her nostrils, and her skin was chaffed clean. She coaxed the fire to life and sat before its encouraged flames to dry.

As the heat thawed her limbs, her mind began to work.

Worse than the lingering smell, her bruised scalp or bleeding knees, was the guilt.

The gut wrenching, bile raising sensation that she had somehow asked for this...that they had seen into her dreams, watched the impure thoughts and desires that bubbled under her surface...

She had to get out, before she was lost beyond all salvation.

Determination and desperation suddenly possessing her, Elise stumbled to her feet, and reached for her dress. Her hand froze when it met not the usual frayed linen, but soft velvet.

Apparently, Sir Grey had listened to Lucan's advice after all.

She held the new dress aloft and suppressed the sudden hysterical urge to laugh.

The last time she had set eyes on the claret garment, with its red and gold braid, it was gracing the elegant form of her mother. Of course, the irony was not accidental. Sir Grey was many things, but stupid was not one of them. Elise had no other clothes, and he had taken the linen. She began to pull on the velvet gown.

She felt as though she were dressing for her own execution, dressing up to become a ghost... Were these conflicting emotions an echo of those that her mother had once felt? What separated them at all now... was she simply a continuation of the same doomed story?

She shook her head. If she kept thinking like this, she would go mad, and may as well give up now...

She was a slightly different shape to her mother, after all. Josephine had been French, petite, slim. Elise had never met her father, but he had been an Englishman, and the result was the addition of traditional English curves to Elise's delicate French features. Though she fit the dress better than her old one, the bust was still tight, and the neckline lower. She wondered whether that had been considered in the choice of dress.

For a moment, she contemplated whether Sir Grey had actually meant to touch her at all the previous night. Whether he had ever intended to open the curtain, and if he had not simply planned to replace the dress and leave. Whether the drink only spurred the outcome...

These thoughts only compounded her unease. Because then, maybe, if not for the dream...

She shook her head again. What he had done could not be undone. He had shown what he was capable of. Had he ever shown charity to her mother?

Better to assume the worst was still to come, and leave.

***

Elise prepared breakfast meticulously and delivered it to the dining room, unseen, as usual. Had anyone been around to see her laying out platters and striding down the halls, no one could have guessed that today would be any different from every other.

She knew that if she left before breakfast, they would know she was missing within the hour. Now, she had a few hours to go unnoticed....Elise also knew that the best time to leave would be after dinner, when she had the whole night to go unmissed, and the cover of darkness...but to face another dinner with Sir Grey was more than she could bear.

In the kitchen, she reached under her mattress and extracted her mother's miniature, and a small purse containing a few gold coins. Little, but enough to be of use should she become desperate.

She wrapped up a loaf of bread and some cheese, and made her way to the stables.

The sun had risen and lit up the yard, bathing her in warmth. She slipped quietly into the stable building, pausing a moment to savour the sweet dusty smell of hay and of horses.

There had once been six of them, back in her childhood when Sir Grey and her mother would ride out in the carriage, and Jem was still there. She had learnt to ride on a pony, Sal. Now, Elise ran her eye over the row of empty stalls, and thanked God she had at least learnt to ride in her youth. It had been a while, but she trusted that she had not forgotten.

Two horses remained; both pure bred, haughty stallions. Sir Grey's being the largest of the two, Elise picked the lesser of two evils, Lucan's horse.

"I hope you are not too loyal to your dear master," Elise muttered as she saddled the restless animal up, "Now live up to your name, Lucifer, and run like hell."

***

Elise had not felt free or at ease for years, but as she cantered down the lanes, wind whipping her hair in her face and the sun warming her back, she laughed aloud like a child.

When had she forgotten the world was so beautiful? When had she stopped noticing the jewel-like crocuses thrown about the verges, or the birdsong?

Perhaps, she mused, when you have been in one place for so long, you stop seeing anything. Or perhaps her surroundings at the house had become so tainted with the stains of years that they were no longer beautiful at all. She could not remember the last time she had heard birds in the orchard.

It was approaching noon, and her stomach began to rumble. Elise jumped off the horse, and led him behind a high hedgerow into an empty field. Tethering him to a tree, she lay on the grass nearby and idly bit into an apple, staring at the sky.

***

She awoke to water dripping on her face with a start. Dazed, she jumped up, looking around her in panic.

She was still in the field, the horse still tethered beneath the tree, but the sky had turned a threatening shade of lead, and as she stood the drops of rain began to patter with increased urgency around her.

Elise cursed herself. Why had she let herself fall asleep? How could she have been so careless?

She had no concept of how long she had slept, the light was low, but it was impossible to tell the hour by the sun through the heavy cover of cloud. Desperately, she clambered upon the horse and kicked him into a canter.

She had to get away from the house. She should never have stopped. They could be looking for her.

She choked back a panicked sob and urged Lucifer on.

***

Edwin Ramage banged his tankard down on the table with the confidence of one bolstered by plenty of ale.

" 'tsa damned crime...." He slurred, focusing somewhere above the heads of his drinking partners, " 'tswhat it is. Should be 'anged up by dere fat, rich necks....Keep askin' for more they do, everymonth, an' the wife....an' the kiddies....DEPENDS on me...."

A tear pooled at the corner of his eye. The man sitting next to him clapped him on the back.

"Yeah s'alright Ed, we know. We all have to pay the bloody rent too, ya know. Ain't like we don't all 'ave the same problem – the bastards on our backs, the woman gettin' all het up 'bout it...."

There were dejected shrugs of agreement from the burly bunch sitting round the table, tankards in hand.

"Still...were not all drinkin' away our rent in quite the fashion you are, Ed..." the man continued, grinning. There were chuckles from around the table. The Greys might have been depleting the contents of their pockets, but they weren't yet eroding the town morale.

Edwin glared half-heartedly in the general direction of his companions. He felt wretched, and completely pissed. Somewhere through the fog of self-pity, he was aware that his wife was going to have his head on a block when he got home.

He let out an exaggerated sigh.

" I gots to go...," he declared dejectedly. Then, in one last theatrical stand, he waved his arm in the air in the manner of one rallying a revolution.

"..but one day, Sir Grey and his bast'd, swindlin' son will pay!"

A few more chuckles, and a couple of slightly concerned hushes came in response.

" 'sright Ed," replied his companion as Edwin was gently manhandled out of the tavern door, "One day they might 'n all... 'Til then though, we'll keep payin' em, and they'll keep uppin' the rent, an' then one day we'll be payin' 'em to sleep on a bit of dirt road they own...."

The heavy tavern door slammed shut behind him, muting the chorus of voices from within, and Edwin staggered out in the rain in a not altogether straight line, humming forlornly to himself.

Squinting into the rain ahead, he watched slightly baffled as the most attractive woman he thought he had ever seen emerged. She was clutching the bridle of a lame horse, and she was soaked though, long dark hair hanging in a wavy sheet over her shoulders and heavy, mud spattered dress.

He wondered for a moment if the ale had brewed quite right, and if she was not just a figurement of his intoxicated imagination, but what was left of his rational mind decided the lame horse was just a little too inventive.

" Ere," He called to her, involuntarily reaching a hand out in her general direction and managing to brush her midriff, " Whereya goin' all on yours own pretty lady?"

The woman flinched away from him, drawing closer to the horse, and Edwin stumbled back slightly.

" Meant no 'arm like..." He mumbled.

"Please," The girl asked, her face desperate and running with rain, "I just need to get to the church..."

Edwin nodded and pointed unsteadily towards a spire, just visible against the dark sky.

" 'sover there..." he motioned.

"Thank you." The girl spoke, almost in a whisper, as she moved on and vanished back into the rain.

The next day, head sore from the ale and a constant barrage of abuse from his long-suffering wife, Edwin would wonder if he dreamt the whole thing.

***

The Reverend Thomas Brook was snuffing out the last of the vestry candles when the knock on the great church doors echoed around the aisles. He calmly picked up the single candlestick still alight, and his set of keys, and went to investigate.

Elise stood, white as a sheet, shivering on the stone steps, clinging to Lucian's bridle still.

The Reverend stood and took them in for a second, before speaking.

'Child, I am locking the church for the night.." he said, before blowing out the candle and setting it down. He stepped out and locked the door behind him, and when he faced Elise once more he was taken aback by the look of broken defeat on her face.

He laid a hand gently on her arm and smiled at her kindly.

"Let me finish... So, if it is shelter you seek, you must come back with me to the vicarage, where it is warm."

Elise nodded dumbly, before glancing uncertainly at the horse. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Reverend spoke first.

" I shall see to it that your horse is stabled, his leg can wait. You, however, cannot, or you shall get quite ill."

He took the bridle from her, and supporting her by the arm, set off down the road towards the welcoming light of the vicarage windows.

***