Midnight Embrace (3 page)

Taking a deep breath, she prayed for courage as she turned back toward the door. It was an impressive entrance. The door was at least ten feet high. The head of a snarling wolf was carved into the heavy dark wood. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, and then knocked again. Was no one home? She shivered as the wind picked up, its icy fingers creeping up her legs.

A moment later, the massive front door swung open, revealing a tall, regal-looking woman clad in a severe high-necked black dress. Her hair, once brown but now mostly gray, was pulled into a loose chignon at her nape.

Raising her lamp higher, the woman regarded Analisa through narrowed gray eyes. "Miss Matthews?"

"Yes."

"Come in," the woman said. The keys at her waist made a tinkling sound as she took a step back to allow Analisa entrance to the house. "We have been expecting you."

Analisa followed the woman down a marble hallway into a large parlor.

The woman set her lamp on a polished hardwood table, gestured toward a curved sofa covered in rich dark green damask.

"Sit, please. Cook is preparing tea to warm you. Sally is preparing your room. I am the housekeeper, Mrs. Thornfield."

Analisa sat down, shivering in spite of the heat radiating from the fire that crackled in the large stone hearth. Preparing her room? How had the woman known she was coming when she hadn't known herself? Or that she would be arriving tonight, and at such a late hour?

"Would you care for something to eat?"

"Yes," Analisa said gratefully. "Thank you."

"Cook made a pot of lamb stew this evening, but if you would prefer something else, you need but ask."

"No, that will be fine, thank you."

"If you will excuse me, I will tell Cook you have arrived."

Analisa nodded, folding her hands to still their trembling as she gazed at her surroundings. The room was larger than the house she had once lived in. The furnishings were all dark wood and forest hues, somber yet elegant. A tapestry depicting a wolf chasing a stag through a field of black briars hung on one wall. A pair of overstuffed chairs covered in muted shades of brown and gold were arranged to one side of the fireplace, a heavy square table between them. Several large rugs were spread over the black and white marble floor. The mantel over the hearth was made of the same black and white marble. A single vase, looking very old and very fragile, sat empty on the mantel. Heavy green and gold velvet drapes covered the windows. A glass-fronted cabinet was against the wall across from the hearth.

Rising, she crossed the floor to look inside the cabinet. One shelf held a collection of animals carved from what she thought might be jade: a large dragon spewing fire, a bat with wings spread wide, a wolf with teeth bared, a mountain lion sleeping on a tree branch, a tiger hunched over a kill.

The second shelf held a series of small, thick books bound in rich dark brown leather.

The third shelf held an assortment of objects that might be collected by a child: a bird's nest, a sprig of what looked like dried heather, a white sea shell, a shiny black stone.

The sound of the housekeeper's keys warned of her approach. Analisa whirled around, feeling guilty without knowing why.

"I did not mean to startle you, Miss Matthews," the housekeeper said. "Would you prefer to eat in the dining room or in here, before the fire?"

"I'd like to eat in here, if it isn't too much trouble. And please, call me Analisa."

"You may do as you wish, Miss Analisa. The house is yours, and I, like the other servants, are yours to command."

Analisa blinked at the dour-faced housekeeper. Hers to command? She had never been in command of anything, or anyone, in her whole life. "How many servants are there?"

"Myself. Sally Kent, who is our housemaid. She will also be your personal maid, if she pleases you. Farleigh is coachman at Blackbriar. Dewhurst is the groom. Elton looks after the grounds. Annie Cullen is the scullery maid. And there's Cook, of course. Lord Avallone has not seen fit to replace Hal, who served as footman until a few months ago. We are a small household. We have no butler, so Sally and I fill in as needed." She gestured at the sofa. "Please, be seated, miss," the housekeeper said, and left the room.

Analisa sat down, thinking seven people hardly seemed sufficient
to
look after such a large estate.

The housekeeper reappeared a short time later and placed a pewter tray on the table beside the sofa. The savory aroma emanating from the soup tureen caused Analisa's stomach to growl loudly. She felt a flush heat her cheeks at the housekeeper's knowing glance, but the woman said nothing except that she would return later to collect the dishes.

Analisa stared at the bounty laid out on the tray. The fine china tureen held enough stew to feed a family for a week. There was a loaf of brown bread still warm from the oven, a pot of tea, as well as a small pitcher of milk, a dainty sugar bowl, a pat of butter, a pot of honey.

She spread the white linen napkin on her lap, filled a soup bowl with savory stew, poured tea into a pretty flowered china cup, added milk and sugar, spread a thick layer of butter and honey on the bread. The stew was delicious; the bread tasted warm and yeasty; the tea chased the last of the chill from her bones. It was, she thought, the best meal she had ever eaten.

She had no sooner finished the last bite than the housekeeper reappeared, followed by a slender young woman wearing a long gray dress and a blindingly white apron. Her curly brown hair was bundled beneath a frilly white lace cap, her brown eyes wide and friendly.

"I have taken the liberty of drawing you a hot bath," Mrs. Thornfield said, taking up the tray. "Sally will show you to your room. Will you be wanting to see the rest of the house after you bathe, or would you prefer to wait until the morrow?"

"Tomorrow, I think." Analisa smothered a yawn behind her hand. "I find I'm rather tired."

"As you wish. I shall bid you good night, then," the housekeeper said, and left the room.

"This way, miss," Sally said, and led the way down a short hall and up a winding staircase that led to a long corridor.

Analisa followed Sally, passing room after room until they came to a carved mahogany door at the end of the hall. Sally opened the door and Analisa followed her inside, her breath catching in her throat as she took in her surroundings.

It was a large square room. A cheery fire blazed in a white marble fireplace. Thick carpets covered the hardwood floor. There was a large wardrobe made of cherrywood, the double doors carved with flowering vines, a matching vanity, and a dainty stool covered in burgundy velvet. Drapes of the same rich color were drawn back from the tall leaded windows, giving her a view of the storm.

A canopied bed was situated across from the hearth; there were dainty cherrywood tables on either side.

"Oh, my," Analisa breathed. "It's lovely. And so… so big."

"The bathtub is in there," Sally said, pointing to a door in the corner. "I've laid out clean towels, and a robe and gown. And slippers."

"Thank you."

"The privy is the last door down the hall to your left," Sally said. "If you don't want to go that far, there's a chamber pot under the bed."

Analisa nodded.

Bobbing a curtsey, Sally left the room.

Later, after a long soak in deliciously warm scented water, Analisa sat in a chair in front of the window. Wrapped in a long blue velvet robe, she stared out at the storm. The rain fell steadily, punctuated by bright flashes of lightning and long drumrolls of thunder. She wondered, fleetingly, who had picked out her night rail and slippers and how they had known her size, or that her favorite color was blue.

Mrs. Thornfield had come in a few minutes earlier, asking if there was anything she required before the staff retired for the night. Somewhat shyly, Analisa had asked for a cup of hot cocoa.

She sipped it now, unable to believe she was here, warm and safe. She had lingered in the tub until the water grew old. Clean hot water, scented soap, toweling that was soft against her skin. Never in all her life had she known such luxury, such comfort. A cheery fire burned in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the high ceiling and the pale blue walls.

Why had Lord Avallone invited her to stay here? She did not even know the man; certainly he did not know her, yet he had opened his home to her. Why?

Blackbriar Hall. It was a house shrouded in mystery and legend. Though some claimed it was haunted, Analisa had never been one to believe in ghosts or goblins. Her fears had been of hunger and disease, but here, in this place, it was easy to imagine the spirits of the dead walking the long, dark corridors. There were numerous alcoves and shadowed corners where any number of otherworldly creatures could hide.

She drank the last of her cocoa and set the cup on the floor.

Feeling warm and sleepy, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes. The storm had calmed and she drifted to sleep, serenaded by the music of the rain.

She woke abruptly, overcome by a feeling of being smothered, of being trapped in darkness, unable to breathe. The high-pitched wail of a wolf sent a shiver down her spine.

Bolting upright, the covers clutched to her chest, she glanced around the room, her heart pounding wildly.

She didn't know what she expected to find lurking in the dim light of the dying fire, but there was nothing visible. She had never been afraid of the dark, but now she lit the lamp beside the bed, peering into the corners, flouncing down on her stomach to look under the bed.

It was a long time before sleep came again.

In the morning, with sunlight streaming through the windows, her fears of the night past seemed foolish. Sally came in to light the fire, and then, while Analisa snuggled under the covers waiting for the heat of the fire to chase away the chill of the night, Sally brought her a cup of hot cocoa and a sweet roll still warm from the oven.

Analisa thanked the girl. Except for the weeks she had spent in the hospital, no one had ever waited on her, nor had she ever stayed abed so late. At home, she had risen at dawn to milk their old black and white cow and fight the chickens for their eggs.

"Now," Sally said, going to the wardrobe, "what shall you wear today?"

Analisa was about to say she had nothing but the much-mended dress she had worn the day before when Sally opened the wardrobe doors, revealing at least two dozen gowns in a variety of colors. Velvets and satins, silk and challis, gabardine and serge, cotton and muslin and dimity.

"Oh, my," Analisa murmured. She had never seen so many gowns in one place, at one time, never owned more than two dresses in her whole life.

Sally glanced over her shoulder. "So, miss, which shall it be?" She pulled out a soft gray dress of finespun wool, and a rich gold and brown striped taffeta with a high collar, both of which looked far too fine for the likes of her. "Or perhaps something more cheery," Sally suggested, and pulled out a flowered muslin with short puffy sleeves and a froth of delicate lace at the throat.

Analisa shook her head in wonder. At home, she'd had two choices: black or gray. "Whose gowns are these?"

"Why, yours of course." Head cocked to one side, Sally regarded her a moment. "This one, I think, miss," she decided, laying the gold and brown taffeta on the foot of the bed.

An hour later, clad in the striped taffeta, her feet encased in soft black kid boots, her hair coiled in a loose knot at her nape, Analisa went downstairs to breakfast.

The dining room was large, as were all the rooms she had seen thus far. An elegant mahogany table surrounded by a dozen high-backed chairs stood in the center of the room. A matching sideboard took up most of one wall. The carpet, drapes, and chair upholstery were all done in shades of forest green and burgundy. There was a large painting of a ship sailing turbulent waters on one wall; a chandelier, as delicate as a spider's web, hung from the ceiling on a thick silver chain.

Sally bade Analisa to sit down, then hurried into the kitchen.

Mrs. Thornfield appeared to wish her good morning and asked if she had slept well. The housekeeper wore black again, relieved this morning by a crisp white apron. A large ring of keys hung from her belt. A white cap covered her hair.

A moment later, Sally returned bearing a covered tray, which she placed on the table in front of Analisa. The maid lifted the lid, revealing two thick slices of ham, three slices of bacon, fried tomatoes, toast, scrambled eggs, potatoes, kippers, and a pot of tea. There was also a bowl of jelly and two pats of butter.

Analisa looked up at Mrs. Thornfield. Was she expected to eat all this? At home, breakfast had been little more than a slice of brown bread and a cup of weak tea. Dinner and supper were bread, potatoes and pork or mutton. If meat was scarce, Analisa and her mother went without, leaving it for her father and brothers, who had to work the fields.

Mrs. Thornfield shrugged. "Cook wasn't sure what you liked. Perhaps later today you can write a list of your likes and dislikes, and any particular favorites."

Analisa bit down on her lower lip. "I… I… that is, I…"

Mrs. Thornfield regarded her a moment, and then nodded. "You can tell me," she said, "and I will relay your wishes to Cook."