The Moon's Curse

Chapter 2 - The Name of an Angel

SWINDON, MARCH 10th, 1872

Suddenly, he raises his hand politely, gifting me with a brief greeting. I return the gesture just a moment before he looks away, returning to his work like nothing just happened. I sit there on Phantom, confused and a little disappointed. Was I the only one that felt it? The only one that felt some sort of connection between us?

As I am riding back to the house, I can’t shake off my embarrassment. What was I thinking? This was an incredibly stupid and childish action. I should have listened to Mrs. Spinster, but no, I wouldn’t be named Sophie, if my day didn’t include some sort of rebellion, no matter how tiny it might be.

I sigh as I realize this is actually quite contradictory to the meaning of my name. I was supposed to be wise. That is why my parents called me Sophie. It is the meaning of my name in Greek language. My aunt loved to mention that whenever I did something foolish, just to spite her. And I have done that way more frequently than I care to admit.

Just as expected, Mrs. Spinster rushes to the stables just as I am taking the saddle off Phantom’s back. I then fiddle with the reins a little longer than I usually do, just to avoid looking at her furious face.

When I am eventually forced to meet her stern gaze, I quickly hang my head in shame. I listen to her lecturing while we walk to the house, then while she helps me change my clothes, she doesn’t even shut up as I am eating my lunch. By then, dark clouds are already covering my face. Even a dog likes to eat in peace!

I am saved by a firm knock on the front door. Mrs. Spinster finally stops talking, freezing as she realizes my sewing teacher is already here. She ushers me into the drawing room before I am able to finish my meal, while she heads towards the front door.

Knowing that it’s best if I don’t fight her, I silently obey her and find my place next to the piece of cotton that is already prepared for me on the table. Sighing, I take a seat and wait for Mrs. Brown to come in. As soon as I spot her dull skirt, I already know this is going to be a boring lesson.

A few hours later, as the sun is already setting, my sewing teacher finally leaves. I breathe out in relief, feeling the urge to throw the piece of fabric across the room. Well, I know one can’t just throw fabric like that, but it would be satisfying to try.

I get up as soon as I hear the front door closing, heading towards the kitchen to check if there are any bread rolls left. I am exhausted and famished and all I want to do is finally catch some air after spending the whole afternoon inside the house.

The maids are already preparing everything for dinner as I enter the kitchen. As one of them notices me, she quickly averts her gaze back to the pot, pretending as if she didn’t see me. I have some sort of an agreement with all of our maids. Whenever I am hungry, they let me go to the pantry and get something to eat, pretending that they didn’t see me. In exchange, I teach them how to read and write in their spare time.

As I enter the pantry, a familiar mixture of scents travels to my nose. Garlic, cheese, dried meat and even the ever-present smell of dried herbs. I breathe in deeply, my eyes glistening as I realize there is something else in the pantry as well. Bread.

I soon leave the pantry victoriously, with a bread roll in each of my hand. As I pass the seemingly oblivious maids, I can’t help but see one of them smiling to herself. I smile with my mouth closed, heading outside. I use the back door, carefully sneaking through the ante hall and past the flower room, hoping that Mrs. Spinster is nowhere in sight.

I suddenly hear her voice coming from the vestibule, freezing as I realize that she is talking to someone. Oh no, who could be visiting us at this hour? I quickly dart towards the nearest place I can find, which happens to be the drawing room.

Closing the door behind me, I lean my ear on it, while chewing as quickly as I can. Just in case the visitors might wish to see me. I almost laugh out loud at myself. Who could ever visit me? And without my aunt present? I don’t think anyone is that foolish. Not even Boring Barry or Judgmental John.

I just swallow the last piece of my bread roll when I hear a familiar voice. One that I remembered the moment I first heard it. I open the door and rush outside, fixing my skirts to appear as proper as a lady should. As I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I tuck the strands of my honey brown hair back where they are supposed to be, then rush to the vestibule.

My eyes first spot Mrs. Spinster, who is turned with her back towards me. As I manage to catch a glimpse of our visitor, I stop in my tracks. It’s the head of our field workers. And he’s not alone. Our new worker is with him.

“Good afternoon, milady,” Mr. Walker, our head of field workers, says as he sees me behind our head maid. But he isn’t alone. The man beside him greets me as well, making my chest flutter as I hear his enticing voice. He repeats the greeting after his superior, both of them showing respect by bowing their heads.

Mrs. Spinster finally notices me, stepping to the side, so the gentlemen can see me slightly bow my head at them as well. I notice her nodding contentedly to herself, but after that, I don’t pay attention to her any longer.

“Good afternoon. What is the occasion of this visit?” I ask the newcomers, directing my gaze at Mr. Walker. I don’t dare to avert my gaze to the left, because I am still offended from the earlier meeting in the fields.

“I know your aunt is travelling, but I still stopped by to tell you we hired the new field worker …” he trails off as he notices the pointed look Mrs. Spinster is sending him. “Just as Lady Acker commanded,” he corrects himself, using more formal words to talk to me.

I suppress a smile. Then I suddenly realize this means I will have to look at the new worker anytime soon now, if I don’t mean to come off as rude. And that is the last thing I want him to think of. I take a deep breath, directing my gaze at him. “Is this him?” I ask just before our eyes meet.

No. When you meet someone’s eyes, it is quite an ordinary feeling. It is a way of simply acknowledging their presence in a polite manner. What his dark brooding eyes do to me is something I have never felt before.

I know I am repeating myself, but I have never seen eyes so dark in my entire life. They are so dark, that they almost seem black. As they stare at me, it feels like they are slowly but persistently removing every layer of my soul, one by one. This time there is no denying it. There is an odd connection between us, one that I can’t explain to myself.

“Yes, milady. This is Mr. Azrael Davenport, who prefers to go by Ezra,” I hear the voice of Mr. Walker travelling to my ears. I force myself to tear my gaze away from Ezra, no matter how hard it is, just to give Mr. Walker a polite nod.

“How do you do, Mr. Davenport,” I hear myself say, offering the man my gloved hand. He takes it gently, as if he is afraid that he might break it in his grasp.

“How do you do, my lady,” he responds with words that make me realise this man isn’t of low birth. But I don’t dare to ask him about his family. Or why he is working in the fields. Our eyes are once again chained into the game we aren’t supposed to play, and I find myself releasing his hand with a heavy heart. I turn towards Mr. Walker before doing anything stupid.

“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” I ask him, remembering to behave as a proper hostess, just as it is expected of me. The man’s moustache dances around as he shakes his head, smiling.

“Thank you for your hospitality, milady, but I am afraid it is a tad too late for that,” he turns me down, making my excitement vanish. I was hoping he would accept my invitation, so I could get to know Ezra better. God gracious, I need to stop referring to him by his name inside my mind, I am supposed to call him Mr. Davenport!

“Are you sure? My aunt would want me to give Ez… I mean our new … I mean Mr. Davenport a proper welcome,” I try again, stuttering a little with his name. I glance at Ezra shortly, hoping that he can’t tell how utterly embarrassed I am. Mr. Walker seems to be amused by my struggles, but he still turns me down.

“None can do, milady. Perhaps some other time,” he says, making me give in and nod in defeat. I shake Mr. Walker’s hand, then Ezra’s, I mean Mr. Davenport’s, then watch as they leave the house, closing the door behind them.

Mrs. Spinster compliments my hospitality, not mentioning my little faux pas with our new worker’s name. Under usual circumstances, I would be thrilled to hear that I have finally done something properly. But now? I couldn’t care less about my exquisite manners.

That evening, I am lying in bed, staring into the darkness. I used to be afraid of it as a child, but not anymore. Ever since my first season in London, I have been thinking about darkness as my friend. It was my escape from the daily pressure of having everyone’s eyes on me. There is no place for errors in London and I am truly glad I won’t have to go there this year.

I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to fall asleep. The sun had set hours ago, when Mr. Walker was leaving with Ezra. No, Mr. Davenport! Oh, who am I trying to blind? Judging by the way he looks, he can’t be more than a couple of years older than I am. I can’t see myself calling him by his last name. And that is all this is.

But the longer I am awake, the more I find myself thinking about him. How can someone leave such a lasting impression on you the first time you see them or speak to them? It is absurd and it is something that I truly don’t want to mess with my head! I have lived my entire life without ever thinking of a boy this way. So why shouldn’t I continue as if nothing happened?

Yes. That is precisely what I am going to do. I am going to pretend that I have never gotten this strange feeling around Ezra, and it will all be just fine. I simply need to stay away from him. Isn’t that so?

An ear-piercing howl cuts through my ears, making me flinch. I get up from bed, walking to the window and pulling the curtains open. The faint moonlight is barely throwing any light upon the land, but my eyes are slowly getting adjusted to the dark.

Soon enough, I spot someone moving towards the woods. I squint my eyes, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t make out who it is. They are too far away. Who they are is not important right now, what am I thinking? I need to go out and stop them from going into the woods, it could be dangerous! God knows what sort of beasts are lurking there during the night.

Before I know it, I am already rushing through the front door, my bare feet moving rapidly across the ground. I only have one goal in my mind, and I can soon see it in front of me. The first line of trees is moving closer and closer, already making me feel relieved. I can make it. I know I can.

However, the moment I get to the edge of the forest, I realize something is amiss. The figure that I saw is nowhere around me. I freeze in panic. Oh, no. They have gone into the woods already!

I dart forward without thinking of my own safety. I know I will never be able to live with myself if I go back to the house now and the person that is in here is found dead the next day. I can’t let anything happen to them now that I am here.

I try to make out something, but it is too dark in here. All I see are endless outlines of tree trunks. And I am too tired to distinguish the trees from something else. Something that could be far more dangerous.

Fear is starting to creep itself up my legs, but I keep stumbling forward, trying to find the person that I saw from my window. Suddenly, another loud howl pierces through my ears. But this time it doesn’t sound as far away as it did from the safety of my room. No. It is close. Too close for my liking.

I look around, soon making out an odd shape in the distance. The beast is moving towards me, its ears pointed upwards and its broad shoulders advancing on me rapidly. Enough dillydallying, I need to run!

I turn around and sprint as fast as my feet can carry me, but the more I push forward, the more it seems like I am slowing down. The house is getting closer, but not as quickly as I’d like it to.

At one moment, I make the fatal mistake of looking over my shoulder and meeting the deadly gaze of the beast that is chasing after me. It is a wolf. But it is bigger than it should be. Wolfs are supposed to be the size of dogs, not bears!

Its dark eyes are watching me back in a wild way, but I don’t give it enough time to figure out what it wants to do with me. I run even faster, finally reaching the front door.

I fly through it, slamming it shut behind me, locking it and even putting the gigantic latch across it. I rush back to my room, afraid to look back. I even lock the door of my room behind me, because I am scared that the wolf might reach me here.

I then carefully peek out of the window, realizing that I haven’t closed the shutters. Too scared to try and do it now, I take a few steps backwards. But then, a gigantic head suddenly appears in front of the glass, making me close my mouth to suffocate a scream. The wolf looks straight into my eyes before baring its teeth with a loud growl.

In the next moment, a loud thud scares me, making me sit up in bed. It takes me a moment to realize that I have never left my room. The wolf was just a part of my nightmare. I breathe out in relief, before suddenly tensing again. If it was all just a dream … A very vivid dream might I add … What was that loud thud?

Suddenly, it happens again, making me flinch in fear and turn into the direction of the sound. I am already up on my feet, dragging the covers with me as I try to calm myself down. Be reasonable Sophie, it was only a dream. Now, what could be making that sound?

My eyes are still directed at the source of the thud. My curtains are pulled together, so I can’t see what is happening outside. The sound came from the window, but the vision of the wolf is still very alive in my mind. I can’t bring myself to get to it.

I don’t know how long I am standing there, but at the third thud, I have enough of my cowardice. I stumble towards the window, clutching my covers as if they could protect me from danger. As I pull the curtains apart in one quick movement, I almost laugh at myself. It was the shutters. I forgot to latch them together last night.

Breathing out in relief, I open the window, quickly taking care of the problem, then close it as rapidly as I can. The thuds might have had a reasonable explanation, but I do not wish to stick around to see whether a wolf appears in front of my room or not.

I close the curtains again, heading back to bed and wrapping myself tightly in my covers. This dream … No, I am not going to think about it anymore. It is only going to mess with my mind. But no matter how badly I want to forget it, the wolf’s dark eyes are still vivid inside my mind. It takes me a long time before I finally drift off again.