The Count of Caudebec

I.

November 13th, 1891

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First, there had been rain.

A deep, cleansing downpour that made the roads nearly impossible to travel. She noted the muddy water gathering along the edges of the wheels, praying they would make it in time.

The stark contrast between the cliffs and sea was unsettling. From the coach window she could observe the sharp drop off a little too close for her comfort. Staring over the rocky depths did nothing to calm her nerves, which had been impossible to quash ever since she received the letter accepting her application for the post.

She needed change.

All her life she had spent under the thumb of her uncle, who had planned out her entire life in an effort to regain his once vast fortune. She did not wish to be caged, just as much as her soul yearned to be free from her uncle's greed induced machinations. This position was her ticket out of a lifetime spent in a loveless marriage to the next rich bachelor her uncle sell her off to. She watched as the carriage slowly made its journey to Caudebec-en-caux, her thoughts drifting to her mysterious employer.

The Count of Caudebec was a well known nobleman of high esteem. Though not many knew him, many knew of him. The count himself, did not make many appearances in high society, although there was much speculation that it had everything to do with the falling out with his fiance, three years ago.

A beautiful lady and daughter of an earl, she was said to have been head over heels for the count. The count, as many would agree, was tragically handsome. Tragic, in that he didn't seem to use his natural charm to keep his fiance, and instead chose to disappear from the world altogether.

It didn't make sense.

Two attractive, young, wealthy people set to marry in only three months – separated for three years, their engagement postponed indefinitely...

What happened to the count? 

All was a mystery as the carriage jolted and came to a halt.

"What's going on," she asked, peeking outside at the driver.

"The horse's been spooked, ma'am," the driver replied, getting down from his seat and attempting to calm the poor beasts.

The sun had just set over the horizon when she noticed it. A dark shape standing in the middle of the road, only a few meters away.

"Driver? Do you see that – thing – there on the road?"

She could scarcely breathe as the thing began to move.

"Where, ma'am? How can you see anything in this blasted fog?"

Fog? What fog? She thought.

"There is no fog," her voice wavered.

"What? Can't you see-"

He screamed.

She bolted out of the carriage as she saw the driver disappear into the forest.

"What on earth?"

The shadow in the road was gone.

Had it all been her imagination?

Another scream confirmed it.

She ran towards it, heart pumping as she maneuvered through the thick brush and undergrowth. Branches and vines scratched her but she didn't notice, adrenaline rushing through her veins, driving her through the tangled green. Up ahead, splatters of blood caught her eye, leading deeper into the forest. She couldn't stop now, she might be able to save him. Even though she was terrified, an inner calm radiated through her, urging her to find the man and that thing she was now sure had taken him.

Dashing through the trees, she followed the trail of blood, her ears pricked in case the poor man called out again. At last she came to a dirt path leading down to a clearing. In the distance, she could smell smoke – a surefire sign of humanity – and she hurried on. Then she heard it. Something that sounded like the tearing of flesh, severing it from bone. She heard what could only be the gurgling of a man drowning in his own blood; a death cry.

Then silence.

A few feet away, she could hear it – eating the driver.

Oh, it is too horrible!

Bile rose up into her mouth but she fought it down. She couldn't risk attracting the creature's attention. Covering her mouth so as not to make a sound, she stood as still as possible behind a tree. She prayed to God and Mary and every angel and saint she could remember that the beast would not come after her. It seemed like a small eternity when at last the horrible sounds stopped, and she could hear it ambling away from her, most likely having eaten its fill.

Able to breathe at last, she waited for an opening before she headed back to the road, wanting to at least get her bag and see if she could find her way to the estate. When she finally got back to the carriage, she noticed frightfully large claw marks scraped along the side of the driver's seat. Blood everywhere, she forced herself to look away, unable to stomach any more of the gory sight. Finding her bag, she followed the road, hopefully in the right direction. Her feet aching, body heavy and tired, she at last saw the gates of her new home.

A sigh of relief escaped her; she was safe. Reaching the front door, she lifted the heavy iron ring and knocked.

No one answered.

Strange.

Knocking once more, a little more forceful this time. When no one answered, she sat on the steps, not caring whether she dirtied her skirts. They were muddied and torn from her foray in the woods. Exhaustion eventually took over, her limbs heavy as she sagged against the cold stone. Eyes closing on their own, the adrenaline from her earlier fright ebbing away, her mind quieted as time dragged mercilessly on.

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It was nearly sunrise when she heard the door open.

"What in seven hells?!"

She gasped, turning around to see the count himself – or at least what she thought him to look like – standing in the shadow of the doorway. Towering above her, she gathered he was at least six feet, his shoulders nearly as broad as the door.

Tragically handsome, indeed...

"Oh! Pardon me, milord."

Scrutinizing her with a wary eye, she felt as if he were about to shut the door again.

She was glad when he didn't.

"I'm the new governess, Miss Dante."

The words rushed out of her mouth in an effort to keep him from slamming the door in her face.

"Yes," he said, distracted, "of course. The new governess."

Waving her inside, a sense of foreboding dampened her awe of the magnificent foyer. It's arched ceilings stretched upwards to colossal heights. Much like a medieval fortress, the inside of the count's abode was impressive. She hurried after him, no time to marvel at the richly ornate furnishings and priceless art. Weaving through a maze of corridors, each new twist and turn as daunting as the next, they entered what she guessed was a parlor.

A blazing hearth drew her in, relishing the warmth seeping into her cold, aching bones. It was a miracle she had gotten a wink of sleep under such dire circumstances, but she did not wish to think on that now. A little ways from where she stood by the fire, the count watched her. She could feel his hard gaze assessing every inch of her. Was he trying to find a weakness? Some fault that would allow him to go back on their contract? The silence between them was oppressive.

The count spoke.

"What happened to your coach?"

His voice was a deep, rich baritone that oozed masculinity, sending a shiver through her body that had nothing to do with the cold. Snapped out of her daze, she did her best to keep herself composed. She must make the best impression. Everything depended on it. Meeting his gaze with confidence, she answered.

"Attacked. The driver was...killed...by some wild animal."

"Animal?"

There was a note of disbelief in his tone, but she kept her nerve.

"Yes. At least that is what I believe it was," she added," I couldn't see... It was too dark."

He visibly relaxed as his glittering, gray eyes left hers. Crossing the room, his gaze riveted to the flames, he leaned against the mantle. A shuddering sigh left his cupid-bow lips as he glanced at her. She made an effort not to look away.

"At least you are unharmed." He seemed to say to himself more than to her and she could not help but wonder if there was a deeper meaning to it.

"Come, I will show you to your chamber," he said, heading back out into the hall one long stride after another, "you must be rested for your new pupil."

"Yes, milord," she replied, following him as quickly as she could.

He stopped outside a room in the east wing. Procuring a long skeleton key from a chain on his waistcoat, he unlocked the door. It occurred to her then that she had not seen a single servant since she first stepped foot inside this place.

It must still be too early...

She hoped when she awoke that all would be right again.

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