Page 3 of A Governess' Forbidden Flame
The horses, noble creatures adorned in fine leather harnesses, were a study in contrasts. Their sleek coats, once gleaming in the daylight, now bore the mud-spattered evidence of their struggle. Powerful muscles rippled beneath the surface as they strained against the muck, their breath visible in the cool evening air.
Amelia could sense the frustration in the coachman’s every movement, the strain etched on his face as he spoke soothing words to the horses. The animals, with eyes wide and nostrils flaring, mirrored his determination. Their hooves sank into the mud, creating a symphony of squelching sounds that underscored the predicament.
The descending darkness enveloped the scene, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering light of the carriage lanterns. The once-vibrant hues of the countryside now muted into a tapestry of grays and blacks, and the ominous stillness of the evening heightened the sense of isolation.
Amelia, sensing the coachman’s mounting frustration, took a deep breath, steadied herself, and decided to alight from the carriage. The worn door creaked open, and a cool breeze greeted her as she stepped out onto the muddy ground. The ominous darkness now enveloped her, and the only sources of light were the lanterns affixed to the sides of the carriage. Somehow, he didn’t seem surprised to see her come out.
“It won’t budge,” he sighed heavily, as his shoulders slumped and the air of determination that had surrounded him moments ago seemed to dissipate into the night air.
Amelia nodded, stealing a glance around the dimly lit surroundings. The night had almost fully descended, but amidst the shadows and the struggling trees, she could see the distant silhouette of a grand manor house against the night sky. All of a sudden, some previously lost hope flared up inside of her. Not all was lost yet, it seemed.
“Is that Ravenscroft Manor?” she asked, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as they made sense of the hazy shapes in the distance.
The coachman didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he glanced in the same direction, as if he himself wasn’t certain. The undeniable grandeur of the manor, its spires reaching upward like sentinels in the night, seemed to beckon to her. The dim glow of distant lights hinted at the mystery of life within those ancient walls, which had numerous stories to tell all those willing to listen. Despite the challenges at hand, a spark of anticipation flickered within Amelia’s heart. The manor, once an indistinct feature on the horizon, now felt close enough to touch.
He didn’t need to respond for her to know it. It was as if she had seen it before, perhaps in a dream. A part of her recognized the place immediately. A part of her knew that it was the place she had been searching for. Perhaps this was a sign that she was where she was supposed to be.
She could not be completely certain of any of that, as night had a way of playing tricks on the mind of a weary traveler, but she decided to believe her initial thought. After all, she had nothing else to hold onto.
“It seems like a manageable walk,” she said, both to herself and to the man standing next to her.
“Walk?” the man gasped in disbelief.
Amelia had no idea when was the last time she heard such a big, strong-looking man gasp like a small child. His weatheredface betrayed a mixture of incredulity and a certain wariness. He hesitated to continue, as if carefully choosing his words before cautioning her.
“Miss,” he began, his voice measured and grave, almost fatherly, “it is not wise to traverse these grounds after nightfall.” It was both a threat and a warning.
“Why not?” she asked, although she was aware of what some claimed regarding the manor. She wanted to hear it from him.
Word of Ravenscroft Manor had reached even her own city. She had always considered herself a reasonable person who did not choose to listen to old wives’ tales, but rather chose to rely on common sense and logic.
Common sense taught her that people in the countryside were prone to believing in all sorts of supernatural things when it came to deaths that might seem even slightly suspicious. It was simply their manner of explaining life when it failed to fit a certain mold.
“Folks around these parts speak of eerie happenings and shadowy apparitions,” he explained in a way she had expected him to, although it was still strange to have such a burly man tell tales like an old woman. “Everyone says that family is cursed, people keep dying in unexplained ways, and anyone who treads too close to them might have the misfortune of having the same fate.”
His words hung in the air, carrying a weight that made Amelia pause. She glanced toward Ravenscroft Manor, its imposing silhouette now appearing more foreboding under the veil of night. The glow of distant lights seemed to take on an otherworldly quality, and the rustling leaves whispered cautionary tales in the cool night breeze. However, even with all this presented to her, she did not even consider changing her mind and going back. There was nowhere to go back to. She had to create her own future, and this was the only way to do so, by becoming victorious over fear.
She knew that some members of the Ravenscroft family had died young. That in itself was enough for people to weave cautionary tales. That, along with the fact that they liked to keep to themselves, away from prying eyes, only made them appear even more mysterious and their home even more ominous. It was only natural that all sorts of tales would be weaved around them, deeming them cursed and plagued.
She could explain all of this in very simple, logical terms. But this man would not hear reason. She could tell that much immediately.
“I would strongly advise you against walking, miss,” the coachman continued, bringing her back to the present moment. “It is not a risk one should take lightly.”
“I am not afraid of the dark,” she smiled at the man, hoping to reassure him. It was a smile that was supposed to embolden her as well.
He shook his head. “It is not the dark you should fear.”
“What is it then?” she wondered, although again, she could venture a pretty good guess.
“Whatever is hiding in the dark,” he replied, and despite all conscious effort, she felt a rush of goosebumps lift all the little hairs on her back. It was one thing to hear about these curses in the comfort of her drawing room in the hustle and bustle of the big city, and something completely different hearing about it while stuck in the middle of the dark woods at nightfall.
“I would walk with you, but I cannot leave my carriage and horses here, for fear of something happening to them,” the man explained, sounding apprehensive himself. She wondered if he would walk there with her even if the circumstances were different. She could not claim with certainty that he would. The fear in his eyes was palpable.
Undeterred by the coachman’s cautionary words, she mustered all of her determination and eyed him with a resolved gaze. “I truly understand that, and I do appreciate your concern, good sir, but I am determined to reach Ravenscroft Manor as soon as possible. However, if you would be so kind as to provide mewith a lantern, the light will be my guide through the woods. Darkness itself shall not harm me.”
The man eyed her as a father would eye a daughter he was fearful for. Her heart clenched at this look. She wondered if the man had a daughter of his own to whom he was rushing back on this dark evening. Hope filled her heart that one day, she would have someone of her own to run home to. But not today.
“Is there no way I can persuade you to wait here, with me, until I get the carriage out of the mud?” he asked again. “It might not take that long at all.”
