Ravens Deep (one) (7 page)

             
The time passed quickly and I barely noticed the lengthening shadows as the sun slowly dipped behind the trees.  Lost in my own thoughts, I had a sudden sensation that I was not alone. I looked up in alarm. Standing a few feet away at the garden gate was a young man, I guessed him to be in his mid twenties.  Although his face was partially obscured by the shadows, I could see even at a distance that he had strikingly handsome features that were only faintly hidden by his long dark hair that fell across one eye.  Startled, I scrambled to my feet and tried to regain my composure.

             
“Hi, sorry I didn’t see you,” I said, wondering where on Earth he had come from, and just how long he had been standing there.

             
“Good evening, I apologize if I frightened you.” He spoke with a clear, articulated accent that told me he had a certain refinement and a good education.

             
“No, not at all,” I lied, as I nervously brushed my hands on my jeans. “I just did not expect to see anyone up here.  Do you live around here?”  As I took a couple of steps towards him, I saw at once that he had the most vivid green eyes, and I felt the heat of them over my skin.  I tried not to blush and briefly moved my own gaze over his face, noticing that the sharp definition of his cheekbones, in his almost classical face, which served only to make his cat like eyes more alluring.  I held my hand out and smiled.

 
              “My name’s Madeline.” He seemed momentarily taken aback, but maybe I imagined that.  He then looked down at my hand before touching it.

             
“I am Darius, and I do live here.”  He said gesturing back through the woods.

             
Our hands must have touched for the briefest of moments.  His skin was chilled, as if it had been recently plunged into cold water and I glanced down. His hands were slender and perfectly formed and his fingernails long and beautifully shaped, as if manicured.  Whether it was the coldness of his hands, the intensity of his eyes, or just his mere presence, I felt completely unnerved. unsure if I should be feeling frightened or thrilled.  A degree of caution seemed appropriate.

             
“I’m staying here with a friend,” I began. “I didn’t realize that anyone else lived around here.” I sounded flustered, but his sudden appearance had that instant effect on me, and I wasn’t about to let him think I was entirely alone.  A hint of amusement passed across his face. I felt certain he could sense my discomfort and deception, but he kept up the charade.

             
“How do you, and your
friend
, like the house?”  His eyes never left my own, and there was a definite emphasis on the word friend.  I knew then for certain that he had seen through my deception, but I pretended not to notice.

             
“I love it, it’s so beautiful and peaceful.” I replied with confidence. “How far from here do you live?” He paused before answering, it was as if every answer was a well-rehearsed response.

             
“My home is back through the woods, but I like to walk up here. You are right, the views from here are beautiful.”  He continued to speak as he turned towards the moors. “The sea is very calm tonight, and you can look across to the horizon.” I too looked into the distance, but in the rapidly fading light I could barely make out the dark void of sea that lay beyond the moors.

             
“You must have really good eyesight,” I said cordially, and Darius turned back to me, his face expressionless. 

             
“How long are you staying?” he asked in a way that seemed too nonchalant.

             
“I don’t know yet,” I said openly. Darius had undoubtedly disturbed me, and although I found him extremely attractive, I was well aware that I was alone and for all I knew he could be dangerous. I suppressed my conflicting feelings and hoped I sounded carefree.

             
“Does your family come up here?”  Again amusement flickered in his eyes, but he

just
as casually answered.

             
“I live alone,” he said, a little dismissively as his eyes moved up to the house.  “It is very dark out here now, and your friend must be wondering where you are.” He knew full well that there was no-one in the house, for now it was also in complete darkness. But I ignored his leading comment, and tried to be as polite as possible.

             
“Yes the light has almost gone, I should go indoors as I can barely see out here.”

             
“Goodnight Madeline,” Darius said as he turned from me.

             
“It was nice meeting you,” I replied, as he moved further away and the darkness of his clothes made him quickly disappear into the obscurity of the night. I walked inside, turned on the lights and closed the curtains. I was strangely aware of the fluttering sensation in my stomach, and that my heartbeat was faster than normal. I wondered again, just how long Darius had been watching me. And the fact that I did have a neighbour, but I was a little disturbed by that revelation.

             
Darius was definitely intriguing. He had been polite, courteous and non-threatening, so what was it that played on my mind?  I thought about the way he said my name and it made me shiver, but were those tremors of fear or anticipation? I couldn’t quite decide. 

             
I busied myself around the house for the evening, unable to get the earlier encounter out of my head, and it must have been around eleven o’clock, when I satisfied myself that all the windows and doors were closed or locked.  I climbed the stairs to go to bed, excited to be sleeping in the magnificent bedroom for the first time.

             
I sat down at the dressing table and began to brush my hair, and happened to glance up to the portrait of the girl in the white dress.  As I studied the painting, my eyes came back to my reflection in the mirror. Suddenly I realized the recognition -- she really looked a lot like me. Her hair, although arranged in an old fashioned pinned up style, was obviously long and blonde.  She had eyes shaped like my own.  I wondered whether she was some distant relation, maybe a great aunt or distant cousin. I sat bemused for a while, brushing my hair. 

             
Then all at once I had the strangest feeling that I was not alone. The tiny hairs on

the
back of my neck stood on end, and goose bumps rose over my flesh.  I shivered, and quickly glanced over my shoulder.  But the room was empty. I tried to shake the feeling from me as I undressed, the uneasiness didn’t leave me, but I knew there was no logical reason for these feelings and I climbed into the magnificent bed. But that sensation of not being alone stayed with me and I debated whether or not I should sleep with the light on. I lay for a few moments listening for any unusual noises, but all was quiet and reassured myself that it was normal to feel a bit anxious in such unfamiliar surroundings.  I turned the light out, and the sensation disappeared along with my apprehension. The doors were locked, the curtains closed, no-one could possibly be watching me.

Chapter Five - Hallowed Ground

              Strangely enough, I slept well. The noise of the mousetraps springing invaded my

dreams
, but it had not disturbed my sleep. I allowed myself to luxuriate in bed for several minutes, then reluctantly I got up and threw open the curtains, and sunlight flooded the room. It was already warming up, but the thick stone walls of the house kept the interior comfortable and cool.  I went downstairs to the kitchen and discovered that two mouse traps contained bodies. 

             
The pantry door stood wide open, and I shivered despite the warm air. In my mind I knew there was the possibility of an immaterial presence in this house, although that notion did not worry me unnecessarily, it was hard to feel disturbed while standing in a warm sunlit room, and I was not about to be intimidated by that thought.

             
So what if the pantry door opens by itself?

             
In reality that wasn’t a menacing force, and there was probably a perfectly good reason.

             
“Maybe the hinges need tightening or the wood is warped,” I said, more or less convinced of that sensible explanation. In a house this old, was it not usual to have sensations, hear noises and the doors to open of their own accord, as age takes its toll on even the simplest mechanisms. But it made me think about the history of Ravens Deep and who had lived here in the past. If I ever saw Darius again, I made up my mind that I would ask him. Locals always knew the history of old houses and the stories of the people that had once inhabited them.

             
After breakfast, I sat down in the library and looked at my papers on the desk.  Through my research I had traced my ancestry back to my great grandfather three times removed.  With the help of Mr. Chamber’s letters, I had discovered that he was John Shaw, born in 1838. He had married a girl named Maria. Mr. Chambers had not known her surname and I had been unable to discover that information myself.

             
At Ravens Deep there was no phone line, no internet connection.  I had to rely on the research that I had previously completed in London. There I had been able to access old census records, but they were so incomplete and I had come to several dead ends.  I wondered if I could get back any further into the history of my family and then again, did it really matter.  My curiosity for personal history had been satisfied as Mr. Chambers had already given me the relevant information. 

             
I sat thinking, although I had based my story on some of my own ancestry, the main character in my book was fictional, so now I had to construct the details differently.  The girl I would write about was not me. I rose from the desk and surveyed the vast array of books on the book shelves.  I read the various titles, but it was one with no title which caught my attention. It was a very old leather bound volume, ripped and frayed as though well read over the years. The inside cover was missing, but it seemed to contain local history. I found Beaconmayes easily and it was interesting to see pictures of the village, at a time when it had been little more than a few old cottages.

             
I sat down at the desk and carefully turned over each page, as not to cause any more damage. As I reached the middle of the book I found a diagram of a map showing the surrounding lands. A church was marked and I figured its location was in the middle of nearby woods.  I calculated that it wouldn’t’t be too far from here and assumed it could be reached by car nowadays. I meticulously looked through the entire book, but could find no mention of Ravens Deep or Ravens Farm and this struck me as odd. Why would a local book be comprehensive in listing all the old and historical properties in the area of that time, but leave these particular ones out?  Especially when this house had obviously been here a lot longer than some other properties mentioned.

             
At the end of the book, several pages were missing from the spine, it was likely they contained the information I was looking for and the ongoing thought process posed a curious question.

             
“Why would someone in the past have not wanted any record of this house to exist?”  My voice interrupted the peaceful ambiance of the room and my thoughts turned back to the conversation I had with Samuel Dunklin yesterday, and the fact that he had never heard of Ravens Deep.

             
I spent all morning searching through the library for any evidence that Ravens Deep or the farm existed on paper, searching old and newer maps, but there was no indication of even a building let alone an address.  It made me wonder if these properties had ever been recorded.  I was perplexed at the mystery, but no closer to solving it, so I focused my attention back to my research notes and began to write the first chapter for my book. The next couple of hours passed quickly. I was happily absorbed with my thoughts and ideas and even happier with the progress I had made. But I did not want to spend the whole day indoors, so eventually I laid my writing to one side, lured somewhat by the warm afternoon sunshine and decided to explore my new surroundings.

              I walked along the path that led between the hedgerows.  It continued, not across the fields and moors as I had imagined, but into the trees.  It looked like a well-trodden deer path. The elevation changed as at first the path led upwards, and then further on, a steeper incline downwards, all the while keeping in line with the distant fields on the right that were dotted with sheep. Perhaps they belonged to Ravens Farm. The woods were cool and peaceful. An occasional warm breeze drifted lazily through the hanging woodlands, and emerald moss grew in wonderful abstract clumps on the boulders and trees that lined the path. I spotted a wild orchid amongst the decaying leaf mould and I left the path to take a closer look.

After making my way cautiously downwards, I suddenly found myself standing on the edge of a deep chasm. I peered over the edge and found myself looking down upon the body of a dead sheep. I felt upset at the grim discovery. But it had probably strayed from the field, lost its footing up here on the steep slope and fallen into the depths below. I could see how easily it could happen and was mindful that it could be just as treacherous for me and unwise to try to negotiate the terrain any further. I quickly
returned to the path. As I continued walking, my thoughts came back to Darius.