No sun showed in the stretching grey of the sky. No color anywhere. This place was horrid, and she wanted to be away from here, but she needed to find Oliver. It was important. Fear dripped off her, but she had to hold it together. Oliver needed her. When she found him, they could escape.
The mist shifted like veils, but over to her left, it parted a bit, and hope surged that she could see where she needed to go. A man stood with a spear and an undulating cape. A roman. The look in his eyes was hostile and Clemmie knew he would hurt her.
Working her legs, she tried desperately to move away, but the mud slowed her down. She wasn’t getting anywhere and that man would reach her at any moment.
Looking back again, she saw that he hadn’t moved. Strong body and mean face, a creature of war.
“You don’t belong here!” he called. It sounded like a battle cry and an accusation. She knew she didn’t belong there, she just needed to find Oliver.
Waking with a start, Clemmie could hardly catch her breath. Sweat soaked her clammy nightgown and she felt cold. Cool air was stealing her heat as she’d abruptly sat up. Her eyes searched for a threat in the room, but she saw nothing but dark calmness.
The fire was in embers, casting the palest of light across the room. But her heart still beat sharply, urging her to run.
Stroking her hand over her face, she tried to calm herself. She was cold and pulling the blankets back over her wet nightdress. It wouldn’t do, because she would slumber in discomfort all night. With a tug on the string holding the neckline together, she shimmied it up her body and off, leaving her naked. The sheets were still uncomfortable and she knew she needed to shift to the cold side of the bed.
Instead of shifting, she lifted the blankets off her and tiptoed to the fire where she added some fresh coal. The cool air was seeping more warmth from her and she searched for her dressing gown to then return to sit by the fire, where a small space of warmth and light soothed her. It felt more welcoming than the cool bed.
Her dreams were starting to betray her, terrifying her every night. And they were getting worse. In the dream, as well as in her heart, she felt there was still hope. Oliver could be found. Somehow. Her mind told her that she was being unrealistically hopeful at this point, and she even prayed that the answer turned out that cruelty and callousness were behind all this. That would mean he was alive and well, somewhere. Maybe she would rather live with anger and disappointment, than the grief of losing him. She wasn’t sure she could cope with him being disappeared, never knowing what had happened to him.
Many would wonder if she’d been deserted. She could see the question in their eyes: what was so wrong with her that her groom would run away without a word?
With her head resting on her knee, her eyes closed. She was still so tired, but she feared more horrible dreams. Why couldn’t she have happy dreams when she needed them the most?
No, she had to head back to bed, or she would be exhausted the entire day, which would probably make it much harder to deal with all the things happening. Grudgingly, she went back to bed and shivered under the cold blankets, rubbing her feet together in attempts to generate some heat. Before long, sleep claimed her again.
*
Light spilled into the room when she woke again. It had been more dreams of being lost. Not terrifying this time, just endless searching. The fire had died and the room was cold, which was unusual, until she remembered that she’d placed her key so the room couldn’t be entered. The maid had been locked out, and now she was uncomfortable for it.
Dashing out of bed, she retrieved her cold dressing gown and then poured some coal on the fire and lit it with some kindling. At least she knew how to light a fire.
These last few days, it had occurred to her how little she knew about getting things done. A mere few days back, she’d been nervous walking down to the village on her own to buy a book. Incidentally, a book she hadn’t cracked open since. It sat on the dressing table where she’d left it as soon as she’d returned. Might never need it now.
For a moment, she felt her spirits flag, felt the enormity of what was happening press down on her. Oliver was missing, and she was running out of options for finding him. Mr. Carter seemed to be the only one interested in continuing the search. Well, Mr. Schonberg had promised to look for him during his walks. Now she felt ungenerous for being so annoyed at Mr. Carter for his interest, when she should be thanking him.
This all gave her an urge to talk to him about what they could do, what his suspicions were. He clearly had some, and he didn’t think it was ghosts. Although remembering that soldier from her dream, she didn’t feel as confident. She’d seen him so clearly. Brown hair and a rugged face with a scar. The cold, piercing eyes. There was no human caring in those eyes. A creature of war. That certainly wasn’t a man she wanted to run into in a dark alley, or on a misty mountain.
Calling the maid, she waited until the girl came to help her dress. As she waited, she thought of Mr. Carter’s accusations. Someone was doing this, using this legend to terrify. It seemed inconceivable that someone would do such a thing. Clemmie couldn’t account for such behavior. It was just… evil. It was the only word that fit. Snubbing someone was callous. Laughing at someone’s misfortune was cruel, and she had certainly
