The Unchaste

Sliverdale

Delilah travelled north two mornings after the night at Marley's Hall, to everyone's great resentment. The discrepancy came from all quarters. Charlotte and Christopher snarled at her decision. Steven and George were none too pleased. And even the officer, Alexis Graham expressed his doubts about her traversing such extensive concourse alone.

Notwithstanding any, She took the train to Yorkshire from London Bridge_ the morning coach, travelling without companion. Or caution.

Caution, afterall, entailed concealment. It implied intentions.

Delilah did not desire that. Even if they were watching her, which she was rather sure of; Delilah wanted to seem coward to them. And meek and subservient, running for shelter because London wasn't harmless enough. To give them impression that one figure on the rival front had been downed by the mere battle cry.

The fact that she was a woman_ compliant, as they regarded women, fact taken for granted_ must help her to get out of their microscope like focus. And it did, infact, considering she wasn't taken down in her coach wagon or down the way to Windsor from the platform.

Her arrival, back and so soon, was a surprise at Windsor. Mrs. Eves, who hadn't shed a tear when she had departed, wept when Delilah was home again. Andrew, when he returned home that evening, stood at the parlor door for long minutes, simply staring and listening to her voice inside.

He came in nervous, only to be delightfully shocked.

The breezy, swampy, homely air launched on her by Windsor salved her anxiety like palliative and she almost didn't desire to leave. But the wish to see him overwhelmed all other yearnings, made her wonder why, was she already not there.

But she held her breath.

For eight days, she remained in Yorkshire_ restlessly ambling the moors. She never turned toward Stormcastle, and never went to village. Church was the only other place where Delilah registered her attendance.

On the ninth day, her brother in law sincerely sent her a faux invitation, under the pretense of an acquaintance in Edinburgh.

Andrew did not doubt, nor Mrs. Eves. But when Delilah was readying herself for the journey, Andrew reluctantly asked if he could accompany her.

"I do not feel at ease, Lilah." He confessed. "The North is harsh, despite its being summer and the roads run the risk of skating. You do know how it rains there. Besides, there is always the threat of highwaymen_"

Delilah laughed off his concern, though not quite daring to look into his eyes.

North could be only as harsh as Yorkshire and she had read the weather prophecies, it was bright and vivid. One of the fine seasons Scotland yielded.

"And above all, Lady Sherborn isn't expecting you, Andrew." It was a rude thing to say, but Delilah had to divest Andrew from the reason to come with her. "She is not my acquaintance even. Charlotte's. And she is sending a coach afterall, you needn't fret."

Scarcely convinced, yet much embarrassed, Andrew gave up.

The tenth day, Delilah set off for North, only to abandon the sent coach in village and rent a sturdy, black stallion instead. The coachman would accompany her all the way to the border, on his own steed, but thereafter_ Delilah must ride alone.

***

The dense dissonance of the gloom-ridden forest that rose and swallowed Delilah also brought it to her attention that even mid-July, Sliverdale was cold. And massive. Deep-green and covered in moss.

Like a titanic dragon with icy belly, breathing haze and mist of winter mid-summer, instead of smoke and fire. Asleep now, to wake up later and walk to the sea and drink the ocean.