BRIDE OF THE BLOOD MOON

CHAPTER 5: The Distant Groom

Elaine woke on a gray, foggy morning. She shivered, tightening the cloak around her shoulders, and listened. The manor wasn’t silent. There were murmurs in the hallways: the soft scritch of feet on stone, the faraway rustle of movement behind doors, and somewhere a long way down beneath it all, a low, barely audible growl that made her teeth throb. She had not seen William since the morning’s meal.

A knock at the door startled her. She turned to find a servant standing there, face pale and nervous.

“Lady Ashford… Lord Wolvington requests your presence in the main hall,” the servant said quietly, avoiding her gaze.

“I shall go at once,” she said, rising to her feet. Her boots made a gentle clatter on the stone floor as she followed the servant.

The hallways were narrow and very long, and the faces in the portraits on the walls were observing her every step. The servant halted in front of a set of huge double doors. “Come on, Lady Ashford,” he murmured, glancing nervously out into the gloom beyond.

Elaine shoved open the doors. William, at the far end of the center hall. His gray eyes locked with hers, and a shiver ran down her spine. “Miss Ashford,” he stated, his voice low. “You are on time.”

“I didn’t mean to make you wait, my lord,” Elaine replied, her own head bowed slightly.

William nodded his head, expression neutral, unreadable. “Good.” The air between them was tense, thick with things unsaid.

Rowan retreated, observing with his arms crossed behind him. His gray eyes moved between Elaine and William, expressionless but searing.

“You will find,” William finally said, “there are rules to life at Wolvington Manor as well. I expect compliance, Miss Ashford. There is little room for uncertainty.”

Elaine’s stomach twisted. “Compliance?” she snarled, the word bitter on her tongue.

“Yes. And respect,” he went on. “The house, the household, and I, in that order.”

Her lips thinned. “And if one is unprepared?”

William’s gaze narrowed. “Then one learns quickly.” The control in his tone was firm, but the underlying threat sent a shiver running down her spine.

A low rumbling sound was coming from under the floor, subtle but undeniable. She stood still. William saw it and said nothing. Rowan’s face remained unreadable.

"The house is old," William finally spoke, breaking the silence. “It remembers everything. And it will prove things to those who enter. You will see that in time.”

Elaine nodded, though her chest hurt. “I understand.”

The servant who had appeared before returned. “Breakfast, Lady Ashford.”

Elaine spun, her mind racing. The manor, William, Rowan, every step, as though navigating a labyrinth of darkness, with each turn holding some hidden secret. She couldn’t help but question what tomorrow and the day after would hold.

Somewhere deep within the walls, a scratching sound began, rhythmic, measured, like nails against stone. Elaine was frozen, her eyes fixed on the shadows. William’s eyes were on hers, unwavering and tranquil, as though he had been waiting for this very moment. Her heart pounded. What had I agreed to? She wondered, gripping her skirt tightly. What have I set myself up for?

The breakfast room itself was long and narrow, with a single table laid for three. The portraits of the Wolvington ancestors lined the walls, standing mute, their eyes watching each move. Candles flickered in sconces, although morning sunlight tried to push its way through the tall, narrow windows and cast a pale light on the highly polished stone floor.

“Miss Ashford,” William finally said, his voice low, slow. “Rules exist in this manor, as I explained. You will live by them.”

Elaine tightened her grip on the knife she was using to eat as she responded. “Yes, my lord.”

Good, he replied, grasping his own cutlery. “The house operates by timetables. Fail on it, and there are consequences.”

She looked at him intently. “Consequences? Of what sort?”

William’s gray eyes battled hers, unforgiving and cold. "The manor educates itself. You will discover it quickly."

Another scratching sound, soft as a mouse, came from the corner of the room. Elaine winced, but neither William nor Rowan registered it. Servants hurried to tend the fireplace, but she felt a stiffness in their posture, as though they too feared the presence in the house.

“Rowan,” she whispered when the servants had gone, “what is this place?”

He did not answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, then he answered, low and soft, “A house of secrets. Some are harmless, some are not. You will navigate through them. With care.”

Elaine’s stomach churned. “With care?”

“Yes,” he said. “The manor is not tolerant of mistakes.”

Elaine’s throat closed. She was already entangled in the rhythms of Wolvington Manor, her steps deliberate and observed.

A shadow shifted in the corner. She was certain of it. A flick of movement, too swift for anyone else to notice, sent her heart pounding. For an instant, she was certain she saw a figure crouched low, watching her.

William’s calm voice interrupted her trance. “Elaine, concentrate. Do not let your mind drift into darkness that does not exist.”

The rest of breakfast was in silence, the soft scraping sound recurring from time to time, claws on stone. Elaine’s gaze stayed glued to her plate, her heart pounding. When finally, she stood, William remained in his chair, alert and unchanging. Rowan’s eyes were on her, piercing, the pressure of his watchfulness almost tangible.

Elaine lingered in the hall after breakfast, running her hand over the cool stone rail of the staircase.

“Elaine,” Rowan’s voice broke into the quiet. “Don’t go too far. At least not yet. The house has activities you aren’t ready to face alone.”

She glanced toward the big hall. William had sat there a moment ago, in silence. But now, he was gone. “Where has he?” she began, but Rowan’s firm look silenced her.

“Patience,” he told her. “He operates on his own schedule. You will see him when the time comes. For now. Observe, learn, survive.”

Elaine’s heart pounded. ‘Survive,’ the word echoed in the room like a drumbeat. She had penetrated Wolvington Manor completely now, but she realized she had no real perception of the dangers that awaited her - human and paranormal.

Rowan’s presence beside her was firm but immovable. “Do not be afraid of the house. Fear the unprepared mind, not the walls themselves.”

Elaine tried to ground herself. “It feels alive,” she gasped. “Like it’s watching.”

“It is,” Rowan said quietly. “And it remembers. Everything which comes through here leaves its mark.”

She turned around, scanning the area. Shadows in the corners contorted abnormally, and for a moment, she might have sworn she had glimpsed the outline of — a man? A beast? Of something passing between light and dark. Her heart raced. She did not know whether it existed or was her own imagination. The heavy doors creaked open silently. William stepped past, his eyes commanding and detached, as usual. Elaine’s legs grew weak under his gaze.

“Elaine,” he started, his voice controlled, silken. “You will find here that life is not simply observation. It is perseverance. And perseverance requires knowledge of the house, of its denizens, and of yourself.” He paused, his gray eyes drilling into hers. “Do not be misled by appearances. Wolvington Manor is patient, but not stupid.” He turned and departed from her before she could respond.

Elaine stood frozen. He had not left her, and yet he was gone. Rowan’s voice came from the side, low but insistent. “He watches even when he is absent. And he waits. Do not forget that, Miss Ashford.” And Rowan departed.

Elaine swallowed, her hands trembling. She perceived then that Wolvington Manor was more than a house; it was a living entity, and William, who is distant, cold, and enigmatic, was its focal point.

As she left the room, she listened for the faintest whisper of a howl from beyond the moors, barely audible above the wind. Her heart tightened. It was not only the manor and its inhabitants that she needed to fear. The wild outside Wolvington Manor seemed alive, aware, and waiting. Elaine noticed, a chill running down her spine, that she was in a world where every shadow, every sound, every silence meant something, and it was dangerous. She braced herself. The house was only beginning its tests.

And as the wind howled across the moors, breaking windows and tousling the fog outside, Elaine perceived with numb awareness: the tests in which she had been only vaguely cognizant were poised to engulf her.