14 December
Evie's tale, before I forget too much more of what she said:
"How amusing, that I should have once more left to enlist the help of a man! Hopefully, this one doesn't take it upon himself to marry you, yes? Don't look so terrified; this one doesn't possess nearly an ounce of the horror my beloved does. How I loathe him (we were at this point, I shall immediately interrupt my retelling, hiding in the tea room where she, Atticus, and I had previously hidden to speak. It wouldn't do to always hide in my room when we had important matters to discuss, and so Evie was able to speak a little more freely where we were less likely to be observed. It may or may not be important, but I felt the need to share it. Never mind me)! I tell you, Winn, if you really did have to marry the Lord, then you should be most grateful for it.
"At any rate, I doubt he seeks anyone's hand in matrimony. He's much too old to be concerned with such things. He told me he was only the third of five boys, and so, marriage wouldn't do with him. A blessing, he called it, to not have to worry about the estate or inheritance or family affairs much. His brothers left him alone to his fancies - horses and fencing, if you can believe that last one - as long as they could control the flow of money in and out of the house.
"I digress! It's really not an interesting story, Winn - I travelled in the worst snow I've ever had the misfortune of stepping in, was welcomed onto the property, and we chatted privately for a day. Yes, I was wondering the same thing. Why on Earth would someone who possessed so much land of his own bother coming down this street and peering in at the house indeed! I did ask him, if you'll be keen on listening (I interrupt myself once more to explain that I asked Evie about a thousand questions, so my retelling is only slightly jarring). Now, you've a disability of your own. How do you feel, being restricted to one sort of activity because of it? Rather miserable, yes? Imagine that pain, but once you'd tasted the freedom of your own life ahead of you, your own hobbies and passions. This is the Lord's struggle - so, while he may no longer be capable of riding as he once was, he still enjoys a walk, which he demonstrated - much to my pleasure and annoyance! - after I arrived. The grounds really are lovely, but don't let me become distracted. Only know that you would marry that man in an instant if you saw the gardens. To answer the question as to why he was wandering along our ill-fated street, he was looking for somewhere new and easy to walk. You saw how long it took us to drive down to his home. I can't imagine where he started his walk, as he didn't say, but he wasn't used to the houses along this way, and was quite pleased with what he saw.
"How fortunate for him, that you answered the door! Well, our little Atticus did, but you showed him around, and if we're to believe him, which I think we ought, if we want any of his help, not one other house was available or cared to let him in. And to see him in a cane! Consideration seems an easy thing to come by, but never let yourself scoff at it! Look where your friendliness has gotten us.
"After Lord DeCourt guided us back inside, he left me to myself for a little while in his study, something he claimed he hardly used unless he had to. I think he went off to find something warm to drink and clothes that weren't covered in snow, and I took the oppourtunity to see what selection he had at his disposal, thinking if we had to stay in this horrid town forever, you might be persuaded to visit for the library one day. What a magnificent collection! He had books from hundreds of years prior, all neatly lined up against the walls. Nothing you'd be terribly fond of, outside of their mere presence. Quite a number of books about horses and horse care and horse racing and on and on. There was a wall devoted to tracing the family history, which I am not ashamed to admit I combed through. Our new friend is related to the Queen! There are quite a bit of leaps and bounds between the two, so he's by no means royalty, but how fascinating!
"Perhaps the most interesting thing in the whole room was the letter box. I really don't know what else to call it, as it wasn't like a post box at all, nor was it some general container for the careless discarding of items, but it was a rather handsomely carved shape that possessed a fine pen, envelopes as well-pressed as you like, and fresh paper. I will confess to knowing nothing about how paper is made, but this smelled good. It smelled warm, if that makes the slightest bit of sense. Some of the pages had been pre-addressed, a few I noticed to a sister. The Lord had not mentioned a sister when speaking of his immediate family, and so when he returned with a blanket for myself and an awkward armful of trays and steaming cups, I pressed him on the matter. I don't know if he was annoyed or amused by my snooping, but I suppose he realised it was rather foolish to leave a stranger alone in a room with sensitive information and not expect them to go peering into whatever they could. I'm sure you know me well enough that you could vouch for my good intentions, or rather, a lack of bad ones, but the matter remains the same: I asked, and he answered. I shall do a poor job of remembering what he said exactly, as I haven't the sharpness your mind possesses for such details, but here we are nevertheless.
"'My sister,' he began in a slow and sad way, setting the cups down and revealing he had made warmed cocoa, 'was a terribly ill little thing. She was the youngest, the last my parents ever had, and simply the smallest thing you'd ever seen. I often marvelled that she'd made it past birth. She lived like a barnacle on my mother's side for fourteen years, didn't leave until my mother finally made her way to heaven. Or hell! She would have made a fine addition either way.'
"'What did your sister do after that?' I asked, cautious not to sound too eagre, since it was obvious he cared for her dearly. He winced and sipped at his cocoa. He'd finally sat himself down, but not before pulling the letter box close to him and fondling a few of the letters.
"'Oh, she haunted mother's room for a year or so. Caught something in the damp and it killed her within a few months. Rather quick, but nonetheless painful.' He swallowed and rubbed at his eyes. I felt immediately awful for asking, but I did see an in, if you will, a reason for his caring for our cause - you! Indeed, are you not the young woman of sickened fancy, a surrogate for his sister? Perhaps that was why he was so taken with this house and with inviting us to his, to honour the spirit of his sister by caring for another girl?"
(Here, I pause to fume somewhat. While I am incapable of running about like other youths or entertaining athletic fancies, I am certainly not a barnicle, nor have I ever been! To presume a similarity beyond minor health complications at best is rather miffing. I will avoid writing in Evie's response to my fuming, as she merely laughed at me and ruffled my hair).
"Accept the comparison, you flea. Now, it is a good thing I compare you to her, and the Lord seems to think so, too! If he sees his beloved sister in you, is he not more likely to assist you in escaping a prison? In seeing the world as his sister ought to have?"
(I asked what this dead sister's name was and was told Danibelle. A curious one, but she sounded like a curious person. Evie was none too pleased to hear me grumble airless threats about being called Dani).
"Don't be an ingrate! We need all the help we can get, and if that means being called after a ghost, then you damn well better accept it! Now. I explained your plot to escape and collect information, and Lord DeCourt was perfectly willing to accommodate you. There, I bet you feel rather rude for grumbling. He's pledged himself to us, to you, if only for his sister. We ought to expect another invitation in a week or so, maybe two - there's a frightfully long storm coming and it'll be a good enough excuse to hide us all away for some time, even if it's only a few days. A few days ought to get you on your way, no?" Evie finished her story here, which she apologised for, as it was rather wandering and filled with uninteresting details. "Well, what do you expect of me," she'd said with a shrug. "It was a social visit, and I couldn't very well jump right into the heart of the matter, now could I?"
"How on Earth are we supposed to make our escape in the thick of a winter storm?" I moaned, having set down my pen (I take rather messy notes when she returns from trips - how many more shall I have to annotate, now?) to crack my knuckles. This crack received a stern look from Evie.
"Another social visit, under the guise of an ill-timed storm. How else?"
Shaking my head and feeling prickles across my skin from the cold that was just inside the house, I retorted. "How am I supposed to travel, Evie? I would die in an instant if left to the weather, forget a storm!"
"You worry too much, my friend." Winking, she stood up and opened the door, checking the hallway before beckoning me to follow her. Padding along and holding the journal close, I followed her to a closet in a hallway I had previously only been in to run from a spider. I had not taken the time to investigate my surroundings and found myself on edge looking at the dirty wallpaper and the curling carpets. It was a very neglected hallway. "Come along, nothing will bite you here."
Stepping quickly on something with more legs than I cared to count, I grumbled under my breath at her, walking into an opened doorway and immediately sneezing. Dust everywhere! Picking up my book to hit Evie across the head for daring to expose me to such a hostile environment, I was pushed back by the weight of a coat, filled with fur. Popping her head over the coat, she smiled the widest I'd seen her since we were forced to move to this dusty, spidery house. "A coat!"
"I can - ack!- see."
"Was that..?"
"I'm allergic to dust, Evie."
I was nudged out of the room at once but not without a chestful of heavy overcoats.
"It remains unclear who these belonged to," Evie said, still looking pleased with herself," but the door was nearly locked shut by age when I found it! Nobody has worn them in quite a while, I'll presume, so nobody will mind if you borrow a few when you leave." There was a distinct gap between our enthusiasm for the scenario, but I was at least glad to see something that would shield me from the cold. If only it didn't kill me with sneezing, first!
Once we had gone over our plans tenfold and stored the warmer clothes in my room, we made for the fireplace again, where we stared longingly into the bare depths. Not even the tea Atticus brought us (so many cups today!) could cure the cold that settled into our bones. I felt painfully for his feet. Though he'd claimed the doctor had replaced his shoes upon the strange favour he'd asked of him, Atticus neglected to say how long ago this replacement had taken place. No doubt, well before I had relocated to England. How cold those feet must be! I covered one with a blanket when he approached for tea, a gesture that brought an unusually genuine smile out on his face and in turn, one on Evie's. Perhaps she was oblivious to the reason he smiled, but the mere presence of happiness in the cook's son was enough to please her. I felt a pang of sadness at their shared peace. I could not say why that was, or where the sadness even came from, but perhaps it was the knowledge that their love for one another could never progress beyond furtive touches or notes. They would never be allowed to enjoy one another's company, not even with the doctor gone. They were doomed.
With as much sorrow as I can hold,
Winn