Everquiet

Scene Eight: House Rules

Dinner passed pleasantly enough.

The conversation never ventured beyond safe subjects—mostly about me. Every time I tried to turn the questions back on Sebastian, his answers remained polite but frustratingly vague. I couldn't fault him for it. I wasn't exactly an open book either. How do you trust someone with pieces of yourself when you're still trying to figure out who they truly are?

The servants quietly cleared away the last of the dishes before Sebastian rose from his chair. He walked around the table and offered me the crook of his arm.

I accepted it with a small smile.

"Thank you for joining me this evening," he said as we made our way through the quiet corridors. "I truly enjoyed your company."

Warmth crept into my cheeks.

"Thank you for having me," I replied softly. "I enjoyed it as well."

He glanced down at me, the corners of his mouth lifting into a gentle smile.

When we reached my room, he opened the door for me.

"I hope you sleep well, Miss Hawthorne."

Before I could answer, he lifted my hand and brushed a soft kiss across my knuckles.

Then he was gone.

I stepped inside to find Margaret waiting patiently.

"Did you have a pleasant evening, Miss Hawthorne?" she asked as she approached.

"I did," I admitted with a smile. "It actually went much better than I expected."

"I'm delighted to hear that, dear."

She guided me through another set of doors connected to my bedchamber.

My breath caught.

A large claw-foot bathtub sat before a roaring fireplace, filled with steaming water scattered with delicate rose petals. The room glowed with warm amber light, while the soothing scent of lavender drifted through the air.

"I thought a hot bath might be welcome after such a long journey," Margaret said.

"It looks wonderful."

She settled me onto a nearby chair before carefully removing the pins from my hair. Long strands tumbled over my shoulders as she brushed them with slow, practiced strokes before weaving them into a loose braid.

"There we are."

She helped me to my feet and gently loosened my gown.

I couldn't help crossing my arms over my chest once the dress slipped away. Having someone tend to me like this still felt strange.

Yet...

There was something comforting about it.

Margaret folded the gown neatly over her arm.

"Take your time and enjoy yourself," she said kindly. "When you're ready to get out, simply ring the bell."

She closed the doors quietly behind her.

The moment I lowered myself into the bath, a contented sigh escaped my lips.

The heat seeped into every aching muscle, melting away the exhaustion of the day's travel.

Margaret had been absolutely right.

I leaned back against the smooth porcelain, letting the warmth surround me.

My thoughts wandered.

To Sebastian.

To Ravenscroft Manor.

To the strange customs and quiet mysteries that seemed woven into every stone of this place.

Without realizing it, I became lost in my own mind.

"You're going to turn into a raisin."

I startled so violently that water splashed over the edge of the tub.

Margaret stood nearby, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," she said with an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

She reached for a thick robe waiting nearby.

"You've been in here quite some time. I was beginning to worry you had fallen asleep."

A nervous laugh escaped me.

"I'm sorry. I tend to disappear into my thoughts."

"So I've noticed," she replied warmly. "Forgive an old woman's worries. My motherly instincts have a habit of imagining the worst."

Something in her gentle voice tugged at my heart.

My parents had died when I was young.

I could barely remember my mother's face anymore, but Margaret's kindness awakened a feeling I hadn't realized I'd missed.

"Come now," she said softly. "Let's get you ready for bed."

I stepped from the bath while she wrapped the robe around my shoulders.

Soon she helped me into a long ivory silk nightgown that pooled gracefully around my feet. Once I was dressed, she added another log to the fireplace until the flames crackled brightly, filling the room with comforting warmth.

She pulled back the covers, and I climbed into the large bed.

After making certain I was comfortable, Margaret folded her hands neatly before her.

"Now, Miss Hawthorne, there are a few rules of the manor you should know."

I looked up attentively.

"Never leave your room after sunset. If you need anything during the night, ring the bell, and someone will come."

I nodded.

"The East Wing is also strictly off-limits. It belongs to the master of the house, and he values his privacy."

A small crease formed between my brows.

"But... we're to be married," I said. "Won't I eventually be living with him?"

Margaret smiled gently.

"In time, dear. But until then, you must respect his wishes."

"I understand."

"There is one last thing."

Her expression grew oddly serious.

"If you happen to hear strange noises during the night..." She paused. "Ignore them."

I blinked.

"Strange noises?"

"The manor is very old," she answered smoothly. "Old timbers settle and groan, the wind finds its way through every crack, and these ancient halls have a way of carrying sounds where they shouldn't."

Her explanation sounded perfectly reasonable.

Yet something in her eyes made me wonder if that wasn't the whole truth.

After wishing each other goodnight, Margaret quietly extinguished several lamps before slipping from the room, leaving only the firelight dancing across the walls.

Alone beneath the heavy velvet canopy, I listened to the distant crackle of the flames.

Outside, the wind howled softly against the ancient manor.

For the first time since arriving...

Ravenscroft Manor truly felt alive.