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Just trees. Lots and lots of trees.
Not that I could imagine escape at this point. Even if I could get out from under Derrick’s watchful eye, I had no access to magic. What little self-defense I knew came from movies and television, which was to say I had nothing beyond a basic concept of how to throw a punch.
No, I was well and truly trapped.
Father would be so proud.
Nana Bess and Uncle Martin were going to give me grief.
Paved road turned to gravel and an enormous house rose into view. It was nothing short of a manor, spread fifty yards across on both sides and constructed of slate grey stone that rose four stories high. Many chimneys steepled high overhead, several of which bled smoke into the dimming twilit sky, and while most windows were dark, there were still quite a few glowing with light from inside.
Vines and shrubbery clung to the base of the walls, adding a sense of permanence to the structure, and I was at once both impressed and terrified. Somehow, I’d managed to forget where I was being abducted to, and for whom, but with the prominence of the Leslie family on blatant display before me, my reality became all too apparent. These were not people I could walk away from, no matter how dearly I wanted to.
The car was barely in park when Mark flung the door open, ejecting from his seat in one bound. The hum of not-too-distant conversation filtered out through an open window and there was the light ping of crystal goblets touching. Henry stepped out of the passenger door and the car was filled with golden light. Derrick’s expression was grim, his mouth flattening in the heartbeat before he turned toward his door. He looked like he was steeling himself for what was to come, which made every little hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I began gathering my wits, but his hand on my wrist made me pause. I looked up, startled both by the contact and the intensity of his gaze. There was a clear warning in his eyes, but whatever he meant to say was lost in the next moment. Mark’s voice came unhindered through the car door, cheerful and far too proud as he greeted someone outside.
“We haven’t missed all the fun then?”
A woman’s voice answered, dulcet and chilling all at once, “You’re more than an hour early, you haven’t even missed dinner.”
Derrick exhaled through his teeth, then turned and stepped out of the car. His hand was out, reaching to help me down before I managed to scoot across the seat, and I took it with a murmur of thanks. Cool mountain air was a welcome change from the stuffy insides of the car, and I breathed in a confusing mix of cooked onions and honeysuckle. My legs were stiff as I stepped down, and my ankle threatened to roll on the pleasantly white gravel drive, but Derrick’s steady arm kept me upright.
There was a great deal of movement around us; people rushing to gather luggage, toting suitcases off as quickly as they were unloaded from the car. They were a well-oiled machine, hardly uttering a word to one another. None looked at the group of us by the stairs, and within moments they were gone, leaving for some side entrance with our things and I was overcome with a desire to follow them.
But Derrick’s hand was at the small of my back, holding me in place.
Casting a sidelong look at the constable, I was struck with the stillness of his features. Everything about him had gone placid. His mouth was flat, neither smiling, nor unsmiling, and his jaw was set. He reminded me of Uncle Martin’s customers, the ones who were all too aware of the financial burden pawning their valuables would mean. They knew there were no guarantees life would go according to their plan and they would get their items back, and for a shivering moment I stared at him. He had that same grim set to his features, the one that said the need outweighed the risks.
Derrick’s fingers tightened on my elbow as he steered us forward. Stone steps led to ornate double doors at the front of the manor. One door was open, allowing light to spill onto the front step and illuminate the woman standing regal at the entrance. She wore an evening gown so deep a blue it could almost have been black, with a large pearl and diamond adornment nestled at the crux of her décolletage. In one hand she cradled a crystal flute filled with bubbling, amber liquid while the other held a small, folded fan that she was tapping lightly against the side of her leg. She smiled as we approached, though her eyes never strayed my direction; all her focus was on Derrick.
“What splendid timing,” she said. “I’ll have them arrange places for you at the table.”
“That’s not necessary, Ms. Maureen,” Derrick said.
She clucked her tongue and shook her head, making blonde curls quiver in their glistening barrettes. A delicate floral scent drifted from her, and I was reminded of deep woods in summer, but then she reached and touched Derrick’s cheek in an affectionate manner, and I lost track of my thoughts. She had long fingers, slender like the rest of her, and an alarming gleam in her eyes.
“Do not be silly, Derrick, dear,” Maureen said. “Whatever would Delilah think if I let you skip dinner? I will hold the party for thirty minutes while you all freshen up.”
Without a single glance in my direction, Ms. Maureen’s hand dropped from Derrick’s face, and she turned to glide through the open doorway. The pit of my stomach clenched tight and when Derrick went to follow, I tugged his arm until he stopped to look at me. His eyebrow quirked in question and concern, and he glanced back at where Mark and the others were flanking us. There was a low growl, likely Mark trying to get us to move, but Derrick’s scowl silenced it.
“Nora?” Derrick asked.
“I don’t have the right kind of gown for this.”
It sounded silly out loud, but Derrick’s expression relaxed. There was a snort of humor behind me, which I ignored. Whoever thought my social discomfort was amusing could take a flying leap into Hades for all I cared, I was not going to sit at dinner in my painfully plain pants and mismatched blouse.
Derrick’s hand covered mine where I gripped his elbow, and he lowered his voice; “It’s taken care of.”
“What do you mean it’s taken care of?” I asked, but before I could get an answer another figure appeared in the door.
She was tall, buxom, and bobbed a curtsy when Derrick addressed her. I was able to peg her as a maid by the ivory apron and classic black skirts, which only served to feed my distress because some of my skirts back home were almost identical. I opened my mouth to protest again but Derrick led me a step closer to the woman, whose shrewd brown gaze surveyed me at once.
“This is Meredith,” Derrick said with a nod to the maid. “She’ll see you properly managed.”
Mark scoffed behind me, moving in close as he made his way toward the door. “Oh, yes, manage her please, Merry. She’s a headache on legs.”
I refrained from comment, choosing instead to glare after the wolf as he disappeared inside. Henry sent me a hapless shrug before ambling after his friend, which was more interaction than I’d previously had with the man. I could not decide if he was agreeing with Mark or apologizing for his manners, neither of which I was terribly inclined to accept.
