Fantasy From the Wood

[Debacle]

When girls were sent to stay with their grandmothers in the country, it could be for only one of two reasons: one; the girl had run through all the marriageable candidates in her own social circle and now needed to rely on the connections of her extended family to see her married, or two; she’d been involved in a scandal.

The morning was early, the grass still wet with cold dew, but as the carriage climbed the hill, the sun came into view above the skyline of oaks, revealing its full summer angry-god self. Olivia leaned out the window, forearms folded on the sill, and breathed in the crisp, green scent of her new surroundings. Everywhere, trees, and only a single thin road between her grandmother’s small manor and the rest of society.

Grandmother Maggie was a faint memory. She’d met her grandmother as a child, but could recall only a stern woman with blonde hair just beginning to gray, a velvety voice full of authority, and primrose perfume, powdery and sweet. Her grandmother had come for a single visit in all her life, but child-Olivia had set her grandmother apart from other women, placing her in a category all her own. While her mother liked to sit in the parlour and sew or read, during her visit, her grandmother had left the house early in the mornings and didn’t come back until tea. She had acquaintances in London whom she wanted to visit, she’d said, but Olivia had followed her once, staying far back so Maggie wouldn’t see. Her grandmother had walked through the park, even leaving the pebbled trails to wander through the trees, taking off her gloves to feel the moss growing on the trunks of the old sycamores. She’d spoken to no one at all, but when she returned that evening, her grandmother crisply answered everyone’s questions, saying the dressmaker in town took far too long and had wasted much of her time that day.

The manor came into view, an old house both bleak and lovely. The gray-stone manor seemed too immense for one old woman, with its tall, peaked roofs and many chimneys, the windows like enormous eyes topped by arched molding eyebrows. Compared to her family’s little townhouse in Bristol, the manor was enormous.

The carriage rolled to a stop on the circular driveway. “We’ve arrived, Miss Burrows,” announced the driver, as if she couldn’t see that for herself. Would her grandmother come out to greet her? Olivia felt out of place, and suddenly she didn’t want to leave the interior of the carriage. She didn’t know her grandmother. She didn’t know anyone here. And what if Grandmother Maggie found her odd?

Drawing in a breath, Olivia pressed her fingers just above her brows, savoring for a second the darkness. Then the door was opening and the driver was reaching out a hand to help her down, and her body began to move mechanically, completing each expected gesture. She reached for the bag sitting beside her, heavy with the books she’d packed, slid closer to the door, and put her hand in the driver’s, stepping out. “Thank you,” said a voice. It must have been her own, yet it sounded far away and far too soft.

Olivia wondered if her grandmother would find her acceptable. As a child, she’d received all the usual compliments and cheek-pinchings that came along with being a decently attractive child. Yet, as puberty hit and her features began to change, the compliments dwindled, then stopped altogether. Her younger sister, Eliza, was the pretty one, with pale gold hair and calm blue eyes, a quintessential English rose. Olivia was what people sometimes called ‘accomplished’ when seeking a flattering word to describe her, but really they just meant ‘well-read’. Hopefully Grandma Maggie wouldn’t be disappointed she wasn’t more interesting, and Olivia could just exchange one parlor for another as she spent the next few months safely entrenched behind her books.

She straightened her skirt and blouse, eyes seeking out her grandmother, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. Relief swept over her, which caused immediate embarrassment. This wasn’t a day for second-guessing or regret, it was a day for doing. This was an opportunity--a rare one, even. With Grandmother in her seventies, it might be the last chance to really get to know her. And the estate was beautiful, if terrifying. Lush, if more than a bit wild. The forest, all around, cocooning the house like the manor was just a smudge on the map of a great blue ocean, surrounded by trees and trees and trees. Dizzying and intoxicating, the stone house a marker in the middle of it all, the manicured yard almost silly beside so much unharnessed forest. But it was very English, also. They always did like to assert a bit of control, her people, didn’t they?

“You can do this, Olive,” she muttered to herself, the driver safely too far away to hear, unloading her suitcase from the back of the carriage. “She’s just an ordinary old woman. No reason at all to be frightened of her.”

 

[local cryptid]

If Jasper had been asked what he wanted to do when he grew up, the last thing that would have come to his mind would be a butler. Butlers had always seemed like miserable creatures to him, and he could not wrap his head around how someone could dedicate so much of their time to people who appreciated so little in life. Yet, as he grew older, he realized that working class families such as his own had few choices in life, and sometimes that meant throwing yourself at the mercy of the wolves... quite literally.

He glanced down at his pocket watch as he moved down the stairs and straight for the front doors, filling the once silent hall with hurried taps of his worn and abused dress shoes hitting the hard floors. He threw open the front doors just as the carriage doors opened. The fresh and damp air smoothed away some of the tension he had been holding in his neck and shoulders and he took a moment to fix the cuff on his sleeve. A light breeze tossed his short, ashy brown back and clear of his eyes.

He moved down the short set of steps and over to the two of them. He heard her speak, although he didn't care to correct her. Instead he swooped over to take her luggage from the driver so the poor man wouldn't risk throwing his back out. "Thank you Sir, I will take this," he said kindly to the other as he hoisted the bulky case up. He moved back in front of their latest guest with her suitcase tucked to one side of his.

"Good morning Miss Burrows," he greeted, "My name is Jasper, I oversee the estate for your grandmother." His greeting was not a especially warm one, but nor was it cold. He had never cared much for pretending. His job was to keep the estate orderly, and to assist in family matters. Despite catering to wolves, he did not feel as though his job was out of the ordinary. He kept their secrets, did much of their bookkeeping, and spent many hours of his day directing the usual domestic tasks that needed to be done.

He skipped over asking her how her journey went, and went straight to the point as to why he had interrupted his work to come and greet her to begin with. "If you will come with me I will show you to your room and give you a brief tour before lunch. Your grandmother will find us shortly."

The only challenge here was that he would have to hold family secrets from Olivia. It would ultimately be futile, he realized, but he was obligated to try. His sharp hazel eyes examined her for only a moment. She certainly would be trouble, he determined. She looked smart, which meant that she would be inclined to challenge rules that were nonsensical to her. Unfortunately, there would have to be a few of those in place for her. He could only hope to make them minimally appealing to break.

He gestured for her to follow him into the house. He was itching to check his watch, despite having glanced at it less than a minute ago. He still had preparations to do before lunch, but now he was bogged down with Olivia and various formalities for the next several minutes.

 

[Debacle]

Her suitcase was handed off from the driver, a man she was unfamiliar with, to the butler--another man she was unfamiliar with. And now she was about to spend Lord only knew how long with her grandmother, whom she hadn’t seen in sixteen years. If she’d had memories of Margaret Ainsley being a kind old woman--the sort she often witnessed in other families, overseeing the children or good-naturedly heckling store clerks--she might not have been so nervous. But her memory of Grandmother Maggie, faint though it was, left her quaking in her boots.

“Oh, yes, yes, good morning,” she murmured, distracted. Olivia turned her eyes away from the manor to look up at the butler. ‘Butler’ was new to her. She didn’t know anyone who had a butler, at least not personally. She’d been to enough parties and dances to be somewhat familiar with the sharply dressed men who stood rod-straight in richer households, but that was the extent of it. Her own family had a cook, of course, but Galinda was more family than hired-help. They even shared blood, by some remote connection.

The man before her offered to show her in, and Olivia nodded. “Please and thank you.”

He looked at her. It was only for a second, just a passing of the eyes over her, but Olivia couldn’t help but feel she’d been judged by his hazel gaze. Her brow arched, then she forced it back down. No, she was imagining the unfriendly chill in the air, surely.

But her gut didn’t feel right. Something inside her was saying that Jasper wanted nothing more than to shove her back into her carriage and bar the door. Olivia forced a smile, though it wavered on her lips.

“Mister, er, Jasper--” she cleared her throat, trailing behind him into the house, her fingers twined over her stomach. “How long have you been employed by my grandmother?” It was a useless question to ask, and dull at that, but the silence felt taut as a clothes wire in the crisp morning air.

 

[local cryptid]

Jasper paid no mind to her apprehension. It was an appropriate reaction, after all. He would have only been irritated should she have come waltzing in acting entitled or overly confident. Anyone who was more or less from the human would should be nervous, even if they did not quite understand why it was they should be.

He was still human, but somehow he did not see himself as part of his own kind's world. He had mostly been rejected by them up until recently, but he still did not quite fit in. He was too aware of how physically human he was, and this made him fundementally different from the others.

He headed up the stairs, and did not look over his shoulder as she tried to fill the silence between them. "Almost a decade now," he answered. Perhaps he would indulge her. He turned down a hall and headed towards the first small pocket of private rooms.

"At first she took pity on me as a poor boy, but then when she realized that I could be useful to her she wouldn't let me leave." he said this as though it was an amusing set of circumstances since it hade happened so long ago. When he wanted to leave all of those years ago after discovering her most critical secret, he had come to the conclusion that he didn't have much of a choice but to stay. Later on he realized that no harm would have likely come to him, so as long as he didn't speak of what he had discovered.

He opened a door for her and set her bag down just on the inside. "This will be your room," he said, "It can get quite warm in the afternoons, so make sure to draw the blinds before the sun is high in the sky."

 

[Debacle]

Passing into the manor felt like drawing a dark veil over her eyes. The shadows of the doorway sucked her in, cool, a draft emanating from within. Past the foyer, windows allowed in natural light, but it still took a moment for Olive’s eyes to adjust. She let her toes guide the way, each step skimming the scratched hardwood.

The air smelled like fresh linens and biscuits, but it also smelled old. She could smell the age of the wood panels on the walls, painted and repainted over the years. And she could smell dust, hiding away in high-up places and in dark corners. It was a comforting smell; the flat in Bristol was new in comparison, and lacked the feeling of permanence.

Olivia trailed behind Jasper up the stairs, her fingers brushing the lace curtains over the round window on the landing halfway up. In the upstairs corridor, little rosettes decorated the wallpaper. There were lanterns on the wall, but they weren’t lit yet. Only the window at the end of the hall let in light, but it was enough to see the mahogany doors and their carved frames, the persian runner underfoot, and the little painting on the wall of a couple rowing on a still lake, the woman leaning over to scoop up a water lily. It was signed by someone she’d never heard of. Wealth. Her grandmother had wealth. Maybe not an immense fortune, but everything in her home was placed just-so, created with care and attention to detail. Olivia felt like an intruder.

She’d have loved this place as a child, she thought, as they passed a narrow table adorned with knick-knacks and photos. She’d have felt like a princess in a castle. And perhaps her grandmother would have indulged her, letting her dress up in finery and masquerade about the house, or make tents from the bed linens, or eat sweets for breakfast and hot cocoa with every meal. But that wouldn’t be happening now.

A few paces in front of her, Jasper paused at one of the doors and opened it, setting her suitcase inside. She stood in the doorway, unsure if she should go in or wait for him to exit first.

“I see you’ve arrived.”

The voice made her jump. Olivia spun on her heel, her hand racing to her breast. Grandmother Maggie had appeared silently and stood behind her now.

“Y-yes. Hello. I mean, thank you for having me, Grandmother.”

Her grandmother had scarcely changed in the last sixteen years. Her hair was still more blonde than gray, though there was more silver in it now. Few creases marked her face, which had a surprising amount of color to it. But Maggie was walking with a cane, which she leaned on heavily, and she looked tired.

“You may call me Mrs. Ainsley.”

Olivia’s brows shot up in surprise, but she forced them back down quickly. “Oh. Ah, yes ma’am, of course.”

Not Grandmother? Olivia inched backward toward her room, needing a moment to collect herself. Mrs. Ainsley lowered her chin fractionally, her green eyes taking measure of Olivia. Olivia did her best not to fidget.

“Most of this house is not fit for visitors,” Mrs. Ainsley informed her. “I shut off most of the rooms and don’t go in them. There’s no use maintaining them. I suggest that if you feel like having a look around, you stick to your own room or downstairs. But stay out of Jasper’s way, and the cook’s as well.”

Mrs. Ainsley was looking at her expectantly, so Olivia bobbed her chin. “Yes ma’am.”

Mrs. Ainsley nodded. “Good.” A pause, as her eyes travelled from Olivia’s face to her feet and back again. “It’s good to see you again.” Her focus shifted to Jasper. “When you’re done here, bring a pot of tea to the study.”

Olivia held her breath as Mrs. Ainsley walked away. She was silent, her cane not even clicking on the wood when she reached the stairs, but she limped heavily on her right side. When she was out of sight, Olivia let out her breath in a whoosh.

She looked at Jasper helplessly, her smile lost, wishing he was someone she could confide some of her terror in. But, of course, he wasn’t. So she pulled herself together, stepped out of the doorway and into the room, and nodded her head in thanks. “As instructed, I won’t get in your way.”

There was just the barest hint of exasperation in her tone.

 

[local cryptid]

Jasper turned towards Mrs. Ainsley without much reaction at all. He didn't even bother to greet her, she was already going about her business with Olivia. His lips twitched, hinting a frown as she corrected Olivia. Even he thought that was rather icy of her, and he knew her better than anyone. Maybe it was because Olivia didn't feel like kin to her, having been away for so long. Not only that, but perhaps distance would be easier so she could keep her safe.

He simply nodded once at her instruction, and folded his hands in front of him. He waited for her to leave as well, before he looked over at Olivia, still displeased with the situation. "That is good to hear, but you can come to me should you need anything. I am not agitated by helping others," he said, in both defense of himself and Olivia. Perhaps the old woman would overhear him and he would get a slap on the wrist later, but he never liked it when people tried to speak for him.

He gestured for her to follow him down the hall again so he could show her around the rest of the manor. "The cook, her name is Jane. She is a good person. Should you have any preferences or requests, she will usually accommodate," he explained as he walked down the hall to show her some more rooms that were open for use. He could not say much more about Jane, given that their interactions were pretty minimal. Even during the days he accompanied her into town, she usually had very little to say about herself. He suspected it was because of her aversion to men, so he never cared to press her, and become one of the men she feared. Besides, it meant that he not have to offer much information about himself in return. Their odd friendship was ultimately mutually beneficial.

He pointed out his office, which was where he usually was if he was not running errands or taking care of various tasks, and then took her downstairs to show her the main rooms. He would be sure to see to it that the rooms she should not explore were at least marked in some way, if not locked. "Mrs. Ainsley is rather territorial, so I would advise you respect her requests about the rooms. Aside from that, the only other rule for you I would say is to stay within the manor at night. It is truly not safe to take any nightly strolls with how deep in the forest we are." He turned and looked back at her, "Do you have any questions for me?"

 

[Debacle]

"That is good to hear, but you can come to me should you need anything. I am not agitated by helping others.”

It wasn’t precisely sympathy she felt from Jasper, which was perhaps a good thing, but there was a note of... what was it? Explanation? He’d corrected her grandmother’s insinuation that she’d be in his way. It felt like an offer of, if not friendship, at least something a hair above Mrs. Ainsley’s chilly civility. Olivia smiled in thanks and followed him out of the room, vowing to poke through every last drawer later (when the door was firmly shut behind her) just to spite her grandmother. Nosying about would make her feel marginally better. Being contrary usually did, much to her family's displeasure. Part of the reason I'm in this mess, she thought, tapping a finger over her lips.

Jasper’s stride was long, she noted, and precise. Her eyes dropped to his shoes. They were neatly kept, but surprisingly shabby. He’d obviously been wearing the same pair for a number of years. Walking behind him, Olivia mimicked his posture, folding her hands in front of her, and tried to take equally long strides two steps behind him.

So, the cook was named Jane. Another woman in the house was good. Was she young--a potential friend? Or older--someone who might report any ill behavior back to Mrs. Ainsley? She’d have to find Jane later and see just what sort of woman she was.

"Aside from that, the only other rule for you I would say is to stay within the manor at night. It is truly not safe to take any nightly strolls with how deep in the forest we are."

Jasper drew her out of her reverie. She nodded. Yes, the forests around the manor certainly seemed like an awful place for a twilight stroll. She’d no doubt get lost in the dark, or turn an ankle, or run into a snake on the path.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

“Yes, actually.” Olive crossed her arms over her stomach, leaning her weight back on her heels. She looked around her at the manor--largely off limits, and then out the windows to the woods--dark and off-limits in their own way. “What does one do out here? What do you do?”

 

[local cryptid]

Jasper followed her eyes out the largest set of windows, out beyond the garden to the treeline that started only a few steps from where the furthest flowerbed stopped. "Ah..." he idly touched his jaw with a couple of fingers as he thought about it. How could he explain it, really?

"I purely take care of domestic matters for Mrs. Ainsley. I am quite a bore," he almost sighed. He had a brother who could not be associate with him often, and he had no friends or suitors. Most people would be lonely or discouraged in his situation... but somehow he did not mind. Some days he wished he had more, but most of the time he was at peace.

"Others, well, they enjoy the wilderness, ride horses, hunt, knit... read, perhaps, " Unless they were herders or farmers, no traditionally working person would live this far away from civilization.

"Jane frequently goes into town for stock. She usually appreciates company, so perhaps if you ask her kindly she will allow you to go along," he added. He paused, hearing Jane bang some pots around in the kitchen not far off.

"I should tend to Mrs. Ainsley. Lunch will be ready in about an hour now." Usually dinner was wherever Mrs. Ainsley so desired it, but given they had a guest he intended to use the dining room table, even if it did end up just being Olivia seated there.

 

[Debacle]

As he listed off what people did in such remote locations, Olive trailed to the window, looking out at the garden and the trees beyond. Perhaps she would enjoy the wilderness, she told herself, trying to be positive. She felt heavy with the weight of her own thoughts and worries, and strangely distanced from the entire situation, as if she was outside her body looking in. It's the shock. That's all. This is just an extended holiday away from Bristol. Away from--

She interrupted her own thoughts. No, she wouldn't think about them. She especially wouldn't think about him.

"I should tend to Mrs. Ainsley. Lunch will be ready in about an hour now."

Olivia nodded, turning to look back at Jasper for a moment. He was kind, she decided. Perhaps not friendly or outgoing, but he was kind. And her grandmother was probably kind too, just unused to her. "Thank you. I'll be in my room, then. Unpacking."

She bowed her head before leaving, letting her fingers trace the banister as she crept up the stairs. The wooden panels creaked underfoot, making her wonder how her grandmother, an old woman with a cane, managed to get around the place so quietly. Olivia shrugged to herself, letting the thought drift away.

Once in her room, she shut the door behind her, leaning against the wood. The room smelled of fresh plaster and paint. Had Mrs. Ainsley recently renovated the room? A four-post bed occupied one wall, the linens crisp and pillows arranged just so. At the foot of the bed, a knitted blanket in a shade of soft rose. Olivia let her hands touch the intricate knots, wondering if her grandmother had made it. She thought of the woman, rigid and still beautiful, and shook her head. No, probably not.

The room had a decent sized window, the ledge low and deep enough to sit on, but not for extended periods. The view was a bit of a let down, as it just overlooked the circular driveway and the road back to civilization. On another wall stood a tall dresser, topped by a round mirror. The walls were bare, but the floor had a lovely ornamental rug laid out under the bed. Olivia bent down and unlaced her boots, setting them beside the door, and let her socked feet sink into the carpet. She sighed, stretching her toes. She'd have to dig through her luggage and uncover the pair of house slippers before lunch. The thought of putting her feet back into her boots made her grimace.

As she'd vowed, Olivia opened each of the drawers in the dresser, but found herself disappointed. All had been cleared and wiped clean. She'd wanted some piece of her grandmother, something personal, to hold and ponder. I won't be finding it in here. The room was perfectly comfortable, but between the lack of decoration and the fresh white plaster, the space felt spartan and impersonal.

With a sigh, she turned to her bag first, unpacking the books. She placed them in a row on top of the dresser, not caring that it obscured the mirror. Then, dreading the chore, she began on her suitcase.

 

[local cryptid]

Jasper slipped into the kitchen, and stopped short of Jane who was crossing his path with a tray of uncooked cookies. She gasped and shook her head, evidently startled by his sudden appearance.

"Sorry, Jane," he greeted, and moved around her to start the kettle.

"S'all 'right," Jane sighed, setting the oven mitts on the counter by the stove. She brushed off some crumbs and turned around to look at him. She was a little older than him, perhaps thirty or so, with wiry brown hair that had been chopped very short, and stuck out in odd directions. Her naturally tanned skin seemed to lack a healthy flush, and her thin frame was mostly hidden under a dress that was a little too large for her. Her sleeves were fastened up at the elbows, and her white apron was stained.

Her dark eyes watched Jasper's every move from her place on the other side of the kitchen. He sifted through the tea drawer before picking one out, and setting up the tray. "How is she?" she asked after several moments of silence between them.

"It is too early to tell," Jasper stated. He turned and leaned back against the opposite counter, waiting for the water to heat up, "She is bright. I am pretty sure half of her luggage was books."

"Oh," Jane looked down, nodding, "That's good."

"Mm." It was, but it could be trouble. He pulled away from the counter after a few moments more to pour the water, "Would you like help with lunch?" he asked, picking up the tray.

"'M alright, thank you. Pretty much done."

Jasper nodded and headed upstairs to drop the tray off. He knocked once on Mrs. Ainsley's door, entered, and set the tray down as he usually did. Afterwards, he went off to make a basket with soaps, clean towels, and other necessities for Olivia that he set in the bathroom. He went back downstairs, properly set the table, even setting out a new centerpiece of flowers, and then went upstairs to fetch Olivia. He was early, but not by much.

He lightly knocked on her door with the back of his fist. "Lunch is ready, Ms. Burrows."

 

[Debacle]

She’d looked under the bed. She’d opened the closet and run her hand over the shelf above bar. In this room there was absolutely nothing personal. I suppose that’s expected, when you live in a manor, she thought. There must be at least six bedrooms here. She can’t live in all of them.

Outside, the sun had disappeared behind dark clouds, and more were sweeping in. The sky hung low, heavy and gray, as moody as she felt. Olivia put her fingers against the cool glass, letting them slide down till they reached the leaded pane. A shiver rolled through her, making the tiny hairs on her arms stand up. This place felt so strange. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once, and outside the woods went on and on and--

A knock.

Startled, Olivia turned. “Yes, please come in,” she called, trying to compose herself. She caught her reflection in the mirror, white-skinned and saucer-eyed.

"Lunch is ready, Ms. Burrows."

Olivia nodded her head. “I see. Thank you. Please, lead the way. I may well get lost if you don’t.”

She followed him, pinching her cheeks to revive her color. What in heavens is wrong with me today? In the dining room, the table was set for one. Her eyes darted to the chair across from her, where her grandmother might have sat. Her father rarely spoke of his mother. When she’d ask him what her grandmother was like, he’d cocked his head to one side and twisted the corner of his mustache.

“Like?” he’d repeated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She’d chuckled at him. “What is she like? Does she take long walks? Does she drink too much? Does she like a bit of gossip, or does she disapprove? I want to know everything.”

Her father had considered, he truly had, but his answer hadn't been very enlightening. “She was like all mothers. She raised us, and she instructed the staff. From time to time, she had friends over.”

Taking her place, Olive looked down at her food. She took a few bites of chicken, finished the peas, and then pushed around the beats on her plate unenthusiastically. The room darkened as the clouds became heavier outside. The wind began to howl, buffeting the windows. And finally the first drops of rain fell.

Flowers were on the table, which were lovely, but they didn’t offer any light. Olivia glanced about, her eyes landing on the sideboard on one wall, a heavy wooden piece topped by a linen runner. Perhaps there were matches in one of the drawers. She could light the candles herself, rather than call for Jasper. Mrs. Ainsley's insinuation that she was bothersome still prickled.

Olivia crossed the room and slid open a drawer. Nothing but spare tablecloths and dinner napkins. In the next she found a box of candlesticks, what looked like a candle-holder wrapped in paper, and beside it, a box of matches. Olivia drew one out and began to turn, then stopped.

There was no one in the dining room except for her. The urge to learn about Mrs. Ainsley rekindled. She slid her fingers into the cold iron pull of the next drawer and eased it open. There was a bible, which didn’t strike her as particularly odd. But beside it was a book with no title marked on the cover. There was only a large pentagram, gleaming in gold filigree on the aged black leather. Olive tilted her head, brows rising as she reached to pull the book out.

“What in the world kind of book is this...?”

 

[local cryptid]

After Olivia was fully served, Jasper slipped down a nearby hall to make sure that the rest of the windows were closed. The rain was comforting, and if he had the time he would like to sit out in the sunroom and watch the storm roll by, but he knew he had to draw a bath for Olivia tonight, make sure all of the lanterns had oil and ensure that the horse was taken care of. Not only that, but he had to see Mrs. Ainsely out tonight.

He came back to the dinning room just in time to see Olivia helping herself to a drawer. "Do you need somethiing, Ms. Burrows?" There shouldn't be anything too odd laying about from what he could remember, but it was possible that something was missed.

It had gotten pretty dark now that the storm was rolling in. He didn't mind, and neither did anyone else really so he did not think to begin lighting candles just yet. He liked it when the sun wasn't out anyways, it kept the house cool, and should he get a headache it did not hurt his eyes as much.

He moved closer, not in an accusatory way, but more of a curious one. Even if she did happen upon something she shouldn't have, he doubted it would be so severe. Rather than marching up to her, he stopped at the table to collect some of the dishes, and stacked them neatly so they could be carried easily later. Still, he looked at her expectantly.

 

[Debacle]

Behind her, Jasper entered the room. Olivia only half-turned, her eyes flicking over her shoulder to see him, but they darted right back to the book in her hands. The tome felt ancient, the pages so thumbed through that the edges felt velvety. She traced the pentagram on the cover, feeling the grooves in the leather where the book-maker had embossed the design.

“Mister Jasper, come look at this,” she murmured, opening the cover. “I’ve never--have you ever seen such a book?”

The table of contents was colorfully illustrated, each chapter title surrounded by flowering vines.

Chapter One
An introduction to magic, both dark and light

Chapter Two
Spells of the Heart
-Incantation for Friendships
-Charm for Courtship
-Spell to Release Negative Attachments
-Ritual Bath for Increasing Attraction
-Spare Key Spell for Spiritual Connection

Chapter Three
Wealth and Prosperity Spells
-Spell for a Healthy Garden
-Moonlight Prosperity Spell
-Pyrite Charm for Inviting Opportunity

Chapter Four
Health and Well-Being Spells
-Speedy Recovery Healing Bath
-Yellow Infusion “Pick Me Up” Spell
-With Bottle for Protecting the Home
-Spell to Bind a Troublemaker
-Red Jasper for Energy and Endurance

Chapter Five
Assorted Spells and Strategies
-Balancing Talisman
-Cleansing Rain Walk
-Magic Oils
-Full Moon Crystal Quartz Energy Revival
-Four Directions Blessing Spell for New Year
-New Moon Intention Setting

Conclusion​

“I wonder why she has this,” Olivia breathed. Then a thought occurred to her, and her head tilted to one side, lips pursing. “Perhaps... No, I think I know why.”

 

[local cryptid]

Jasper moved around the table, ignoring how odd it was to hear himself be called mister. and stepped up behind her to look over her shoulder. He kept a bit of distance between them, just out of habit. He was surprised he and Mrs. Ainsley had missed something so obvious. What sort of excuse did he have for something like this?

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Ainsley does like her oddities. I would not think too much of it," he said, albeit a little more tense than he had intended. He could easily see this being found as being his fault. For reasons that were quite complicated, he felt as though he was stuck at this place, and making Mrs. Ainsley angry was not something he wanted to do again. It is not as though he could just get up and find another job.

He held his hand out, waiting for her to hand it over to him so he could put it safely away.

 

[Debacle]

Brown eyes fell to Jasper's outstretched hand, then darted back up to his face. He wanted the book. Olivia hesitated, pulling the book loosely to her chest, where she cradled it against her body.

"I think my grandmother may be more interesting than I've given her credit for," Olivia admitted, surreptitiously taking a half step backward. With her hip, she nudged the drawer to the table shut. She still had a match in one hand, but had yet to light a candle. Outside, the storm raged on, rain pelting the leaded windows. The darkness cast black shadows on Jasper's face, deepening the hollows under his cheeks, darkening his eyes. He looked like a ghoul, all black and white, like the character in a ghost story she'd heard as a girl. The butler, returned from the dead to haunt his master and mistress, visible only in mirrors on stormy nights.

"Mister Jasper, just between you and me..." Olivia started, gnawing at her lip. "Why don't I hold onto this book, just for a little bit? Mrs. Ainsley surely won't notice it missing. I'll bet she doesn't even remember she put it in here. It looks fascinating, and everything I brought I've read already. Twice, at least." She flipped the book open, letting her finger skim down the glossary. "'Pyrite charm for inviting opportunity'. Now, I know it's all nonsense, but that sounds like exactly what I need right now. I want to give it a try, just for laughs. Then you can laugh at me when absolutely no opportunities come knocking all season long. Eh? What so you say?"

She offered a bright, conspiratorial smile up at the man she scarcely knew.

 

[local cryptid]

Jasper looked at her, and then then the book. He was in a difficult position, wasn't he? Taking it away would imply that it was important that she did not get her hands on it. And even if she did think it was silly--which somehow he suspected that she knew it was of some signifigence-- letting her take it could be dangerous. She did not come from a normal lineage after all. It would be awfully difficult to do is job if any latent magical abilities surfaced, even if he did believe that such books were mostly empty.

He lowered his hand to the table top. Despite constantly working with his hands and many times doing hard labor, they were surprisingly clean and unmarked. Even when he was doing tasks that involved no one but himself, he was remarkably careful.

"It is not my place to lend out her personal belongings," he replied, unmoved by her smile. His response was still cold and calculated, smoothed over with his polite composure, "However, I will look the other way for tonight. Place it back in the drawer tomorrow, please."

 

[Debacle]

She sensed his hesitance. For a moment her emotions warred between empathy--she knew he was in a position where he couldn't really tell her no, even if it made things difficult for him--and selfishness; the book was something she felt oddly drawn to, and she wanted to spend days poring over the tome, discovering it at length.

Jasper compromised: she could keep the book, but only for a day. Olivia didn't hide how she felt. Her lips pulled back and down, then pinched to the side, her eyes slightly narrowed. It felt like she was being ordered about by the butler. Olivia blamed herself for ever asking him to turn a blind eye. 'Better to ask forgiveness than beg permission', her mother had always said. But she gave a curt nod. "Very well."

Turning on her heel, Olivia left the dim dining room, her original intention of lighting a candle forgotten. She had the book in hand and an her time with it was short. Dashing to her room, Olive set to work.

Much of the book made little sense to her, and reading it felt downright sacrilegious, but also thrilling. She said a quick prayer of apology, then focused herself on the energy the book continually spoke of. For the opportunity charm she wished to make, it recommended focusing her energy on a piece of pyrite that felt significant to her for a week at least, and preferably a month. Since she only had one night, Olive knew she was already off to a poor start. She also didn't have a piece of pyrite, and she didn't think Jasper or her grandmother were likely to help her acquire one. What she did have was the tinder box perched above the fireplace, and within it a firesteel, which she presumed at least contained pyrite. Taking the firesteel, Olivia went to sit on the floor with her book once more with the other objects she had collected.

On the floor before her laid the firesteel, a flickering candle, a handkerchief, a blue ribbon, and a blank piece of paper torn from her diary along with her pen. She took a deep breath, then picked up the pen.

I'm tired of my boring life. Bring me an adventure.
​

Writing it out, she felt a bit silly, but she pushed the thought aside. She folded the note into a tiny square. Next, she took the firesteel and ran it through the flickering flame, back and forth. "Fire ignite, opportunity right. Fire ignite, opportunity right. Fire ignite, opportunity right." She really felt like a sham now. Olivia glanced over her shoulder, afraid someone might come in and discover her foolishness. Hurrying through the rest of it, Olivia bundled the firesteel and the note on her handkerchief, then used the ribbon to tie it into a bundle. Holding it in her hand, Olive considered the lumpy charm. It didn't feel magical. It didn't even feel mystical. And far from feeling like opportunity was upon her, she felt embarrassed. Striding to the closet where she'd hung up her coat, she stuffed the whole thing in her pocket. There. Better with it out of sight.

"What in Heaven am I doing?" she muttered to herself, closing the door. She leaned against it and shook her head. The book sat on the floor, still lovely, but somehow less alluring than before. Reading the spells was one thing. Actually trying them was another.

 

[local cryptid]

Once Olivia left, he helped Jane clean up after dinner, and he left to prepare a little bit for the morning. He made his rounds inside first. He checked to make sure the right doors and windows were locked, and that Mrs. Ainsley needed nothing else for the night. No unattended lanterns were left lit, and no curtains were left open either. He then stepped outside and made sure there was no one lurking, or no unexpected lights out in the hills. It seemed like a routine night.

The air was cool and growing damp, and he was in the company of no one but a fox and a shy family of raccoons. He did not carry any lantern with him, even as he circled around the outer most perimeter of the estate.

He stopped at the foot of the hill, overlooking the moors before the forest. A soft breeze tossed his hair and he took his large circular glasses out of the small pocket in the front and looked out, down the road that disappeared into the hills. If he was not so tired, he could sit out here all night.

He would have turned back to go inside had he not happened to catch sight of a shadowy mass struggling up the bottom of the hill, and collapsing in spot. It was nearly the size of a bear, but Jasper knew better than to assume such a thing.

Jasper hurried down the slope and over to the figure, already fastening his sleeves up. He crouched down before the massive, black and brown furred wolf. His pelt was littered with scars, and somewhat overgrown. He was large, and had a powerful form, even for a werewolf. He didn't recognize him, but he was too weak to pose an immediate threat. Someone, another werewolf presumably, had taken a bite out of his nape.

He wrapped his arms the wolf from behind, cringing at the hot blood that leaked through his clothes and to his own skin. He was playing with fire, but he had very little to loose anyways. He hauled the wolf backwards, all the way into the manor, ignoring his occasional growl of protests.

He struggled to get the door open, but once he did, he fell back and into the hall, with most of the wolf's upper body falling onto him. He groaned, exhausted, and shakily got back up to his feet. He shoved the door away and roughly pulled the wolf all the way inside.

He grabbed his cloak off the coat rack by the door and dropped it over the creature. Jane appeared at the top of the stairs in her night gown and with a shawl draped around her shoulders. When she saw what was happening at the door she hurried downstairs to help him, cursing softly under her breath.

"I found him at the foot of the hill," Jasper explained quietly.

"Jesus, is he dead?" Jane breathed, helping Jasper start to carry him down the nearest hall to drop him into a room where he could take care of him.

"No, no, he'll be alright," Jasper groaned, "--you're strong."

"Thanks. The missus is gonna have a fit--"

"Shh, Jane," Jasper scolded softly, "Second door on the left."

 

[Debacle]

The afternoon wore slowly into evening. The rain lessened, then stopped, but the sky stayed dark. Fat droplets of water fell from the roof to her window, where cold radiated inward, despite the morning's warmth.

Night approached, turning the forest into a living thing. Olivia opened her window, listening to the owls come alive. She'd been cooped up in her grandmother's guest room for hours and was going mad with boredom. Her grandmother--Olivia still couldn't believe that her own relative was insisting she be referred to as 'Mrs. Ainsley'--had stopped by her room briefly. A polite but distant conversation had transpired between them. Mrs. Ainsley had told her it was nice to see her again. Olivia had replied likewise. Then they'd discussed the rain and her mother and father's health, and Mrs. Ainsley had departed.

She needed a walk. It was dark outside, but technically it wasn't night--it just looked that way. Olivia laced up her boots and pulled on a cloak to keep her dry, and gathered her hair up under her hat. Then, as quietly as she could, she crept down the stairs and toward the front door. Her grandmother was nowhere to be seen, and she passed Jasper without his seeing her. His back was turned as he checked windows, doing a round of the estate's interior. Quiet as a church mouse, Olivia made her way outside.

The night was lush with darkness, the air heavy and wet. She breathed in the scent of the forest, so unlike the air around her family's home.

Several yards away, the front door opened. Olivia sucked in a breath, taking a step backward into the shadows of a tall spire bush set in an urn. It was Jasper, no light in hand. Had he seen her go outside and followed? But no, he didn't glance about like he was looking for anything in particular. He just started walking, going toward the side of the building. Curious, Olive followed. The wind blew at his hair, ruffling it from its perfectly combed state. He stopped, taking something from his pocket. She was too far away to see what in the darkness. And then he stood there, breathing in the night just as she had been.

Olive couldn't see what set him off, but his relaxed stance changed in an instant and he was hurrying down the hill. She didn't dare leave the shadows from the estate, worried he'd discover her if she followed. It wasn't long before he returned, dragging something as big as he was. Olive pressed her hand to her mouth, brows pinching together. The thing in his arms growled.

Her stomach dropped. He was bringing it into the manor. He was wrestling it through the door, into the entry. Her limbs froze, refusing to move. Had that been a dog or a wolf? Surely no dog could be so large, and that snarl--it sounded like no dog she'd ever heard. But the other explanation didn't make sense. Why would he drag a wild animal into her grandmother's home?

After several long moments in the darkness, she crept closer to the door, which still stood slightly ajar. She heard voices--Jasper and a female. The cook?

"Jesus, is he dead?" asked the female.

"No, no, he'll be alright." That was Jasper, she was certain. A pause. "You're strong."

"Thanks. The missus is gonna have a fit--"

"Shh, Jane. Second door on the left."

The voices were getting fainter. Olivia approached the door and peered in; the entry was empty. She could see them dragging whatever he'd brought from down the hill further down the dark hallway. Blood was smeared on the floorboards, and in the blood were pieces of hair the animal had shed. She crouched, touching the blood, her mind racing. What in God's name was going on here?

 

[local cryptid]

Jasper paused to unlock the door into a dusty and cold room that was mostly empty, aside from some shackles on the walls, blankets and pillows in the corner, and a window with heavy blinds over it. According to the faint, dusty shadow imprinted on the old wood, a bed, and some other furniture once sat in the room. The two hauled the wolf inside, and set him down on the floor. "I'll get the usual," Jane said, wiping her hands off on her dress. It had been ruined already anyways.

Jasper knelt down and nodded up at her, watching as she stepped around the creature to leave. He rolled the wolf onto his side and began to inspect the damage done. While feeling around in his fur, he found a chain around his neck, a thin, but strong one, with a locket at the end of it. He opened it up and held it up in the faint moonlight, his expression falling a little bit as he recognized the picture inside.

Meanwhile, Jane went over the checklist in her head of what she needed--some water, towels, the first aid kit, maybe some restraints. She folded her arms over her chest, chilled and feeling somewhat exposed walking around the house like this in such a hurry. She stopped and gasped as she saw an unfamiliar figure in the shadows, and she put a hand over her mouth, freezing up in her spot.

 

[Debacle]

Blood was on her fingertips and smeared on the floor in the foyer. Olivia's lips parted, her breath shallow.

A wolf. Was that a wolf? Why did he bring that animal inside? Isn't that very dangerous? No, of course it is. But why would he...

Movement on the staircase drew her attention. Olivia's eyes snapped up to where her grandmother stood on the stairs, cane in hand, her eyes on Olivia and the blood-smeared floor.

"Grandmother," Olivia croaked. "Jasper, he--he brought a wolf into the house! It's--they took it just down the hall." She raised a shaking finger to point toward the corridor, and her eyes locked on the shadowy figure of the cook, who stood there frozen on the spot.

"Wolf?" her grandmother repeated incredulously. "Of course Jasper didn't bring in a wolf. Don't be absurd."

Her grandmother's words felt like a blow. Olivia felt small before the woman on the stairs who glowered down at her imperiously. "It--That is, I know it sounds preposterous, but I really did see it. Please, if you just ask him, he can't deny it, Grandmoth--"

"Mrs. Ainsley."

Olivia flinched.

"It's not a wolf," Mrs. Ainsley informed her, eyes flicking away. She pursed her lips. "It's a neighbor's dog. It disappeared weeks ago and must have been injured. Jasper knows the creature. He brought it in until I can send word to my neighbor in the morning that his dog has been found."

Olivia frowned. "How do you know that?"

Mrs. Ainsley's eyes flicked back to her. Frustration flitted over her features, but she smoothed it quickly and descended the stairs. "I put two and two together. I know the dog has been missing, and now Jasper has brought in a wounded dog. What other animal would it be?"

"It wasn't a dog!"

"Lower. Your. Voice," hissed her grandmother. "You sound mad. Fine. Let's settle this." She reached the first floor and walked over to the corridor. Her gaze fell on the cook. "Go and fetch Jasper. He can explain to my granddaughter that he brought in a dog. And then she can realize her imagination is overblown and apologize to him for her accusations."

 

[local cryptid]

Jane stared on, like a deer caught in headlights. Mrs. Ainsley was certainly something to behold, and like Jasper, she was caught off guard by the chilling correction. She felt bad for the girl, her eyes were not betraying her, but her loyalty lied with the madam. She tightened her arms over her chest and felt her shoulders jump again when she was addressed.

She swayed in her spot for a moment, unable to convince herself to move right away. When she finally broke out of her frozen state, she turned and hurried down the hall.

Jasper, hearing the slight commotion, and Jane coming back for him, already stood to meet Jane at the threshold. "Oliva?" he guessed.

She nodded quickly. "She saw everything, Mrs. Ainsely told her it's the neighbor's dog but she ain't convinced so she called for you--"

"I will take care of it, no worries," Jasper said, putting his hands on her shoulders as he moved by her, "Watch him, just in case. I will get everything."

Jane stiffened again and wobbled in the direction that he moved her. She stared down at the unconcious wolf on the floor, unsure what to do next.

He moved down the hall, and tucked his hands behind his back to try and better hide the blood on his sleeves. His glasses were still on, and his hair was a bit tossed about from the wind. "Mrs. Ainsley," he greeted, calm but apologetic, "Olivia, I am so sorry to have frightened you. I will have this mess cleaned up shortly."

 

[Debacle]

From the dim corridor, she saw a door open. Jasper stepped outside, silhouetted in the darkness, his face impossible to read. As he moved closer, Olivia tried to calm the erratic beating of her heart. Something felt so utterly wrong here. Jasper could set it right, and yet she knew he wouldn't. He would continue her grandmother's lie.

"Tell her," she pleaded, wanting to be wrong. "Please, tell her that it was a wolf you brought in, not a dog. I--I don't know why you'd do it, but you must have your reasons. Please, just tell her that it wasn't the neighbor's dog."

The house creaked, wind from outside buffeting the windows, but otherwise everything seemed eerily quiet. She couldn't hear the animal Jasper had locked in a room down the hall. Her grandmother said nothing, but just stood there like a statue with her hands perched lightly on her cane. Olivia felt trapped in a conspiracy. They all knew the truth, but no one would admit it.

 

[local cryptid]

Jasper's expression turned sympathetic. She would never know, and her paranoia would likely stick with her for some time. "I can see how you may... have seen such a thing, for it it's true that it's no standard dog. It's a wolfhound, bred for hunting wolves, but it is no wolf," he explained. He slipped his glasses off and tucked them back into his pocket.

"You perhaps can see in the morning, if it survives. That being said, you will have to excuse me," he moved to slip by the two of them, ignoring any protests for the moment. While he did think the wolf would survive the night, he wanted to minimize his recovery time tonight, and wanted him conscious enough to speak in the morning. Mrs. Ainsley would appreciate that as well, he was sure.

He grabbed a basket and filled it with a few towels, grabbed a pale of water, and tossed a blanket over his shoulders. He took this all from the staff corridors by the kitchen, and hurried back to the room after just a few minutes. Jane left nearly immediately upon his arrival, more than happy to be out of the room of the stirring beast. It looked like it would now be her job to take care of all of the blood in the halls, as nauseous as it made her.

"Oh lord," she breathed, putting the back of her hand to her forehead as she started to light the lanterns down the hall to see what she had to clean up. She felt nauseous nearly, but it had to be done. She wasn't going to have poor Jasper do even more work than what he already did. "Oh lord," she said again to herself, her lips twisted in a sharp frown when she saw a small chunk of fur congealed in some blood along the wall, likely staining the wallpaper for good. "Oh fuck."

 

[Debacle]

She felt betrayed. Perhaps she shouldn't have; after all, she didn't know this man. But he was lying to her face, keeping up this charade her grandmother had started. None of it made sense. Olivia's head spun.

"You see?" said Mrs. Ainsley. "It's just as I've said. You mustn't let your imagination run wild just because you're out in the country."

Olivia said nothing, unable to stop herself from scowling. Feeling that she might say something that would forever drive a wedge between her and this relative, she fled, running up the stairs and down the hall to her room. She shut the door behind her and collapsed against it, dropping down to the wooden floor, where she buried her head against her knees. She'd never felt so alone in all her life. And that was saying something, because there had been some truly lonely moments as of late.

"I know I'm not crazy," she whispered to herself. "I know what I saw."

Arguing with her grandmother was pointless, but Jasper... she would find him. And she would confront him. And one way or another, she would get to the bottom of this.