Chapter 3
1613 Words
3
Allie didn’t need to ask any questions to know what had caused those marks. They were undoubtedly the work of an undead fiend.
Drifter’s smile wavered only slightly before he leaned over and draped one of her large strands of hair over the marks. “I see nothing to be concerned about, and might I add that you have very fine hair, Miss Camille.”
The young girl kept her face turned away as she blushed. “T-thank you.”
The lady’s sharp eyes studied Drifter. “Do those marks mean anything to you?”
“Merely a matter of hygiene,” he assured her as he drew the blanket back up to cover her neck. He took up her wrist and counted her pulse. “Has she seen any other doctor?”
Lady Douglas’ forlorn face looked down at the markings as she slightly shook her head. “Several, but they do not know what sort of animal or object might have made them.”
He gently laid the young girl’s hand back on the sheets and turned to Lady Douglas. “Have the doctors been left alone with her? Or have you any new servants working in your household?”
She shook her head. “I was always present when the doctors visited, and all of our servants have been with us for many years.”
“And there have been no strangers in the vicinity since the girl’s health started to fail?”
“None at all.”
“Have the woods been checked?”
Her eyebrows crashed down. “Really, sir, I wonder at what you are driving.”
His eyes flickered to the young woman before he nodded at the door. “Let us discuss this in more comfortable settings, and I and my companion would appreciate some food, if that isn’t too inconvenient.”
Lady Douglas stuck her nose up in the air in annoyance, but she set her hand atop that of Camille. “Rest now. I will return later to see how you are doing.” Camille managed a small smile and nodded.
Their hostess rose from her chair and led them through the door opened by the servant. Allie couldn’t help but look back over her shoulder as the door was closed behind them. The grim appearance on the nurse’s face hadn’t improved after Drifter’s inspection.
Lady Douglas guided the pair back to her study where she resumed her seat, as did they. “Now please tell me what is wrong with my ward.”
Drifter studied her for a long moment before he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Your charge is suffering from an acute bout of vampirism.”
Lady Douglas stared at him for a long moment before she rose to her feet. She strode over to a rope that hung near the mantel of the fire and grasped the thick cord in one hand before she turned to the pair. Her face was a picture of fury and disgust. “You may consider her illness a jest, sir, but I do not, and if you insist on using such crude humor then I will not hesitate to evict you without your box.”
Drifter shrugged. “This is no jest, Your Ladyship. I have seen a great deal on my travels, but there’s no mistaking the bite of a vampire.”
She gave him a long moment of contemplation before she dropped the cord. “Can you prove your theory?”
He pursed his lips. “Beyond the unmistakable bites? I believe I can, but it may cause your ward some discomfort.”
The lady stretched to her full height and clasped her hands in front of herself. “Then do so.”
Drifter stood, but Douglas’ eyes settled on Allie. “A moment. I must know why your companion stares at me so. She has taken quite an interest in the bottom hem of my dress.”
Allie blushed under the reveal of her curiosity, and she shook her head. “I-it’s nothing.”
“Nonsense,” the woman mused as she brushed a hand over her dress. “This dress is more than a mere nothing. It cost some five hundred pounds, and that was before the price of the delivery to such a remote place as this.”
Drifter arched an eyebrow. “You seem to despise your current location.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps I do, but my husband adores this manor and insists the mountain setting is good for my health. Still,” Her full attention returned to Allie, “you have yet to answer my question.”
Allie’s mind frantically tried to come up with a solution. “I-well, that is, I was just wondering if I could-um, have one like it?” She used a hand to gesture down at herself. “I’m not exactly dressed well.”
A few thoughts flickered through Lady Douglas’ eyes before she gave a curt nod. “You may have some old things I have lying around. If you will come with me.”
Allie jumped to her feet, eager to hide her tell-tale lie. Drifter, too, stood, and swept his eyes over the room. “I’d like to do some investigating while you two are busy-”
“Nonsense,” Douglas argued as her sharp eyes frowned at his own attire. “If you are to remain here, I expect you to dress decently.”
A bemused smile slipped onto Drifter’s lips. “I don’t wear anything but this, My Lady, but if you insist on keeping an eye on me, I’ll remain here.” He nodded at a bookcase filled with books. “I’ll entertain myself in some light reading.”
Douglas followed his gaze and scoffed. “You will not find that there, I assure you. My husband has a very… heavy taste for literature.”
“I’m sure I’ll get through the big words,” he assured her as he strode over to the shelves and took out a book.
Douglas returned her attention to Allie and gestured to the door. “If you’ll follow me.”
The pair swept out of the room and up the elegant staircase. Allie expected them to enter a handsome room furnished with nothing but the best rugs and tapestries. Instead, Lady Douglas led her to the end of the hall where they came to a narrow set of stairs.
Her guide grasped a candle from the nearest holder on the wall and led her up to an equally tight door. Lady Douglas opened the portal and a cold breeze wafted over them. Allie wrinkled her nose as the scent of neglect permeated her nostrils.
“You know, maybe I don’t need a dress, after all.”
“I insist,” Lady Douglas replied as, without looking back, she stepped through the door.
Allie had half a mind to go back down the stairs, but with Lady Douglas and the candle out of sight the flight was now half enveloped in darkness. One false step and Drifter would be picking out gravestones for her. She scurried after her guide and stumbled through the door to find herself in an attic.
The large, narrow room stretched from one end of the manor to the other. A single gabled peak hung above them, and its walls arched downward far enough that Allie couldn’t stand against either wall without stooping. That is, if she could find the walls because the whole place was filled with an assortment of out-of-fashion furniture and trunks. Chairs and tables were stacked together in one corner, and a few settees and a whole dining table filled another. Trunks of every size and shape jostled for room in the remaining space, and Allie even glimpsed a few portraits that peeked out from beneath heavy leather cloth covers.
Douglas grasped the front of her dress in one hand as she swept her eyes over the area. “Many have been the years since I was up here, but I am sure the-ah!”
Douglas hurried over to a rather large trunk situated about midway down the attic. A heavy lock hung from the front clasp, but she drew out a set of keys which she deftly sorted through before finding the right one. Allie joined her guide at the trunk as Douglas inserted the key and unfastened the lock.
“Hold this,” Douglas commanded her, and Allie had little choice as the lock and candle were shoved into her hands.
The lady opened the lid and revealed a thick stack of carefully folded dresses. Thick paper surrounded each dress, and the dusty paper crinkled as Douglas unfolded the top paper. An elegant white dress with a few shimmering black buttons shone brightly even in the dim light. Douglas slipped her arms under the top dress and cradled the item in both arms before she turned to Allie.
“I believe this will suit you.”
Allie scrambled to set down both lock and light, and in a moment, she held out her arms. Douglas slipped the precious item into her limbs, and Allie studied the intricate gold embroidery that glistened in the candlelight. The material was heavy and only slightly worn. The dress had long sleeves that ended in lacy cuffs. The waist was thin, and would accentuate her figure, if not cut off her breathing supply.
Allie had to fight off the urge to scratch her nose against the hordes of dust particles that surrounded her. “This is, um, very nice.”
“It belonged to Camille’s mother.”
- Writer
