If Morning Never Comes - Episode Eight
In Which: Charles Gets In Over His Head
Welcome to “If Morning Never Comes,” a serial adventure from and proudly published by . If this is your first time, catch up before you begin this chapter:
Episode One | In Which: We Meet the Ashley Family
Episode Two | In Which: Charles Makes A Grisly Discovery
Episode Three | In Which: The Subject of Vampires is Introduced
Episode Four | In Which: Charles Encounters a Fight, a Girl, and an Invitation
Episode Five | In Which: We Arrive at a Mysterious Manor
Episode Six | In Which: Charles Encounters the Raines Family
Episode Seven | In Which: Charles Escapes Disaster
Please enjoy!
~ The Editor
By the time Charles jumped out of Herr Stryker’s carriage, Ashwood’s gravel drive had ankle-deep puddles that splashed upwards at the impact of driving drops. Charles stood in the rain and waved goodbye as the German drove away. Rivulets ran down his face, but Charles did not care.
His heart was still thrumming after his interview with Jenny Tarrant. Not only had she forgiven him, but she wanted to see him again. He would have another chance. He threw his battered hat in the air and whooped. He felt like he could fly. He laughed and ran around the great ash tree, getting soaked in the downpour. He jumped with both feet into a great puddle and then another and another.
Finally, Tom came out of the main door and stood under the entrance with an umbrella.
“Sir!” he called.
Charles trotted over, but did not come under the shelter.
“Sir, John believes it would be best if you came indoors.”
Charles laughed and picked up his hat. He put his arm around Tom and they walked to the door.
Tom shrugged his arm off, “Here, keep your deluge to yourself.”
Charles laughed and shook his soaked hat at the servant. Droplets splashed him in the face as he opened the door.
“Sod off, you!” Tom whispered, taking Charles’ hat and coat.
The inside of the house was cold after Charles’ frolic in the rain. One of the maids brought towels. He took one and dried his face as he walked in. His boots squeaked on the floor, and he heard the girl sigh as she saw his damp footprints. He began to ascend the stairs when he heard a deep voice.
“Sir? A moment?”
It was John, the head of household. He was a tall, rotund man with a perfectly bald head. Only a set of rather bushy eyebrows contrasted from the plain pink flesh of his face. He walked to the foot of the steps with the same disapproving look he had worn since Charles was a boy.
Charles turned and wiped the back of his neck with the towel. “Yes, John?”
John’s scowl was part of his character. He was undressed without it. “Sir, you are all wet.”
Charles laughed and wrung out the towel on the stairs. “Astute of you John. Very good.”
“Please don’t make extra work for the staff, Master Ashley. I’ve prepared a fire and a change of clothing for you in your room. You could undoubtedly use a bath as well.”
“A bath, John?” laughed Charles. “You believe the solution to being wet is more water? Perhaps we can skip a step and I’ll just stay like this. Would that be agreeable to you?” Charles started up the stairs again, hanging the towel on the banister.
“Your mother and sisters are entertaining, Master Ashley,” John called up the stairs. “You’d best look presentable.”
Charles did not answer. John cared too much about appearances. Charity’s silly little friends did not concern him. They had seen him disheveled before. Besides, company worked in his favor. His mother might relax her scolding if there were friends in the house. He would step in to let her know he was home. He could hear voices from the upstairs sitting room. He opened the door.
His mother was in her chair. Eleanor and Charity were seated on the sofa. And next to his mother sat Edgar Raines.
Charles froze, his hand on the knob of the open door. Every head turned towards him. He dripped onto the floor.
“Charles!” cried his mother, horrified. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re all wet!” observed Charity.
Charles stammered and tried to excuse himself, but then he noticed a mass of blond curls turning in her chair to face him in the doorway. There was Miss Raines, dressed in a dark purple dress that dipped down to expose her neck and shoulders. She smiled slowly and glanced at her brother.
“Charles, why are you wet? What have you been doing?” demanded his mother, skirts rustling as she crossed the room to feel his face. Charles held up a hand to block her, but she persisted. “You have caught your death, you stupid, stupid boy!”
As she fussed over him, Charles saw Mr. Raines lean over to his sister Eleanor and whisper something. Eleanor put her fingers to her lips and smiled. It must have been a real cracker of a joke to evoke that much of a reaction from her.
Mr. Raines then stood and walked over. He was a full head taller than Charles.
“Now, Mrs. Ashley, I’m sure your son is quite alright.” He took her arm and steered her back to her chair, where she collapsed with a blowing sound. “What’s a little more rain at a gathering such as this?”
Eleanor hummed amusedly, “Puns, Mr. Raines? Really.”
Edgar remained standing and laughed, “Miss Ashley, my sister and I are not accustomed to restraining ourselves from any amusement that catches our fancy.”
Charles thought his joke was stupid.
Edgar walked back to Charles and extended his hand.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, sir. Edgar Raines.”
Charles shook his hand. The man was ice cold, and his grip was inflexible, like iron.
“Charles Ashley.”
The two men locked eyes for a moment. Charles stared into the immense black depths that seemed to hide some inner madness. The man’s face had not a blemish, and his teeth were as perfect up close as they had seemed in the dim light of the party the night before.
Charles continued, “And I really must beg your indulgence, Mr. Raines. I was not quite myself last night.”
Edgar Raines laughed loudly and slapped Charles on the shoulder. “Well, Mr. Ashley, you were rather a sight to see. But one gentleman doesn’t hold such vices against another. You may, however, want to say a word to my sister.”
He indicated the gorgeous woman seated in Charles’ usual place. Amelia looked Charles in the eyes, steady and without embarrassment. He suddenly felt very cold in his wet clothes.
He walked to her and took her hand in his. He kissed it. “Miss Raines. I have no words. Please forgive my beastly behavior.”
She lightly pressed his hand, not allowing him to let hers go. She laughed through her nose and smiled, her teeth gleaming. “That’s quite alright, Charles. There’s no need to apologize for being beastly.”
Charles pulled away, his heart pounding. He took a chair and did his best to remain unnoticed. Mr. Raines soon took command of the conversation again, and Charles was left to himself. All the time, he felt the presence of the luminous woman. He wanted to look back and stare, but every time he stole a glance, it seemed she was ready to meet his eyes with her knowing, gently pursed lips.
Mr. Raines was regaling his mother and sisters with tales of adventure. Apparently, he had been some kind of sailor in the royal navy, where he had won his fortune. Charity sat openmouthed, hearing him describe a perilous dash around Cape Horn, where the rigging had frozen and half a dozen men had been lost overboard.
“How did you survive?” asked Charity, overcome by the tragic tale.
“By the favor of the gods, Miss Ashley. That combined with natural cunning and fortitude has proven me to be invincible.”
The women laughed, even Eleanor. Edgar wasn’t exactly boasting, there was enough sarcasm in his voice to deflect any suspicion. But Charles got the sense that his exaggerations were not far from the truth in his own mind.
“In fact, there was a fellow on board that ship who would have been lost to the depths if it had not been for my quick thinking.” He took a swig of his drink and continued. “He lost his footing on the icy deck right as the bark pitched in the swells. He slid for the edge, and as he did, his lifeline came loose.”
Mrs. Ashley and Charity gasped at this. Edgar placed a hand on his heart and raised the other, saying, “As I stand before you! Well, I grabbed the man’s rope in my hands and braced myself against the rails. He dangled just above the churning sea while I pulled him, hand over hand, back into the boat.”
Charity squeaked with delight, and Mrs. Ashley even gave him a small round of applause. Charles heard Miss Raines chuckle to herself and he turned to look. She was waiting for him and winked. He hurriedly turned back. He tried to paw his hair down into place, but it had dried and was not to be tamed.
“It was a close thing,” continued Mr. Raines, “but the man survived and lived through the night.”
“How exciting, Mr. Raines,” said Mrs. Ashley. “You’re a hero! That man owes you his very life.”
“Well he did,” said the man, casually. “Much good that it did him. He died of snakebite in the jungle not a month later.”
Charity oooh-ed and begged to be told this new adventure.
Mr. Raines only laughed and said, “Miss Ashley, if I tell you all my stories now, your mother may never have me to tea again.”
“Oh, you are always welcome in our house, Mr. Raines!” interjected Mrs. Ashley.
He thanked her with a toothsome grin. “Now then,” he said, raising his brandy, “a toast.” The ladies lifted their glasses as well. “To our new friends, the good people of Ashwood. And to a splendid dance, which brought us all together.” Here he looked at Eleanor. They stared at each other as they drank.
Charles distrusted the man’s comfort with eye contact. He thought it distasteful, almost aggressive. But Eleanor seemed to find it stimulating. Her eyes had not left Mr. Raines since Charles had first distracted her with his rumpled appearance. Her normal reserve was broken. She looked as though she was about to faint. Charles shivered loudly.
That shiver drew the attention of the rest of the company. His mother’s adoring smile faded away as she turned on him.
“Yes, well I suppose last night was good for something after all. Charles, aren’t you ashamed at how you acted?”
Charles felt everyone watching him. Edgar Raines still stood across the room. The fire popped.
“I am, mother. And I have apologized.”
“Apologized indeed. Will you never learn?”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on him, Mrs. Ashley. Some boys need to learn the great virtues by experience, no other master will do,” said Mr. Raines.
At the phrase “some boys,” Charles felt his hackles rise. Who was this Don Juan sweeping into his house that felt he could insult him to his face?
“Of course, Charles might fail even that class,” put in Charity.
Mr. Raines laughed again. Eleanor chided her sister quietly. She looked up at Charles, and he saw loathing in her eyes. She hated him for coming in and ruining her afternoon with Mr. Raines. But Charles distrusted this man. He wanted to say something terrible that would keep him out of the house and away from his family forever. But Amelia Raines sat there, watching him. He could not shame himself in front of her beauty again.
So Charles stood and excused himself. He took a last look at Amelia as he nodded and said, “Miss Raines.” He exited the room.
He stomped down the hall, hating the squeak of his wet boots against the wooden floors. He walked across to the other side of the house where his room was and shut the door behind him.
He threw off his boots and peeled off his stockings. He dropped his coat until he was in his trousers, now mostly dry, and his soaking wet dress shirt. He didn’t bother taking it off. He fell back onto the bed and threw an arm over his eyes.
Was it impossible for him to have one day without some sort of public blunder? The joy of making up with Jenny was gone now that he was back in his own home and made to look like a fool once again. And in front of the most strikingly beautiful woman he had ever seen, no less.
Amelia Raines. He thought of holding her on the dance floor, close enough to smell her hair. But that memory was nothing but disgrace, thanks to his own intemperance. And now her brother was in his house. Her arrogant Atilla of a brother, there to pillage his sister. And there was nothing he could do about it. He hated Edgar Raines. And he hated himself. He wanted to talk to Herr Stryker again. At least with him he could speak honestly.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Charles sat up. He huffed and went to the entrance, frustrated with John and his prying interruptions. He pulled the door open. Amelia Raines was standing there, still as a statue and white as a ghost.
Charles made a sound that might have been the beginnings of a word, but he was not able to finish it. She smiled at him.
“I thought you’d never leave.”
Charles took a breath but had nothing to say. He took another. “I beg your pardon?”
She lifted her head and laughed a high, echoing giggle. She smiled, her lips painted a darker shade of red than last night, to match the dress.
“Come, Charles, you didn’t think I wanted to stay with my horrid brother forever, did you?”
Charles’ mouth hung open for a moment, then he laughed incredulously, “No, I suppose not.”
“We never finished our dance last night.”
“I know,” he began, “I was rather...”
“I know,” she said simply. She held his gaze. “I came to see you. You’re not going to cheat me out of your company that easily.”
Charles laughed again, eyes checking the hallway for scandalized servants, “But this is rather...irregular, Miss Raines.”
“You must call me, Amelia,” she said. Then, coy, she added, “If it pleases you.”
Charles swallowed, “It does.” He felt foolish, but in the moment it sounded right. Now he did not know what to do. There was a lovely woman at his bedroom door and he wasn’t wearing a jacket or shoes.
“Erm,” he began, looking down at himself, “Could you wait here for just one moment?”
“Whatever for?” she had a mischievous look on her face.
“Well, I...I’m not really dressed to–“
Amelia giggled again and grabbed him by the hand. She pulled him to the stairs and held a finger to her lips. They listened, and he could hear her brother telling another loud story in the sitting room. Then she beckoned and they tiptoed down the stairs together. Her footfalls made no sound.
At the bottom, they snuck to a side door. Charles asked where they were going, but she only looked into his eyes and put a finger across his lips.
“Shhhh...” she said. Charles complied.
She opened the door. The rain was still falling, the clouds thick and heavy. Thunder rolled over the moor. Amelia looked outside, still holding Charles’ hand. She interlaced their fingers, then turned around and spoke quietly.
“Shall we run away together?”
“What?” said Charles.
Amelia smiled at him. She backed towards the door, her arm extending as she slowly let go of Charles’ hand. Then she was standing in the frame.
Charles laughed, “Miss Raines, come inside, they’ll see.”
“So what?” asked Amelia, taking another step backwards.
Charles turned over his shoulder. He wanted to go with her, but he was terrified at the thought of John coming around the corner. What would his mother say? Would her brother be angry? As much as he wanted him to be unhappy, Charles wasn’t sure he was ready to face the wrath of Edgar Raines. The house was quiet. He turned back around.
Amelia was backing out into the rain, her hair beginning to get wet. Her curls would be ruined. Charles held out a hand.
“Come on then, don’t spoil your dress.”
Amelia hitched up her skirts, exposing long, tall boots with buttons running from her ankles up to her calves. Charles fought the urge to look away and make sure no one was coming. He couldn’t believe what was happening.
“If you’re so concerned about my dress, Charles, you’ll have to come and get it,” she said, backing away.
Charles thought of a thousand reasons why that was a terrible idea. But then, with a leap and a laugh, he skipped outside. Amelia ran through the rain, not very fast in her boots and dress. Charles gave chase. She tried to make a quick turn, but he caught her round the waist. She giggled and twisted round in his arms. Her hair was beginning to soak, hanging down in front of her bare shoulders. Her collar bones stood out as did her long neck.
She pressed in close to him, her hands tracing a pattern on his chest. She looked up. Her face, for the first time, was not teasing. She was as serious as the grave. They were close. Close enough to kiss. Charles could not move. His head was swimming. The rain fell down and drenched them both.
“Charles,” she whispered. She dropped her eyes. She became unsteady in his arms.
“What?” laughed Charles, not sure if this was part of the game.
She gave no answer. Charles asked again. She allowed him to lift her chin with his finger. Her eyes met his. For a moment, she seemed to have lost her unshakeable confidence. Her eyes were reluctant, sad, full of regret.
“Is everything alright, Miss Raines?”
The rain came down in steady sheets, echoing around the courtyard.
“Have you ever wanted to run away Charles?” she asked.
Charles grew sober. He knew the answer to that question.
“Yes.”
She leaned in closer.
“Have you ever made a decision that you were so sure would set you free only to find yourself bound by it?” She took a shuddering breath, her mouth slightly open. “Enslaved by it?”
Charles stammered, “I don’t know that I have, Miss Raines.”
The rain dripped down her face, inches from his own.
“Amelia,” she breathed.
A rush of excitement and fear surged through his chest.
Charles echoed in a whisper, “Amelia.”
Amelia Raines gave him the slightest of kisses, barely brushing his lips. Charles felt a shock run from his mouth down to his bare feet. She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. Charles saw that they were the same as her brother’s: deep, black and unfathomable like a forgotten well.
Then she tossed her head back and laughed that high, ringing laugh. The tension was broken. Charles laughed as well, but he was not sure why. She held his hands in hers. She was as tall as he was in her boots.
“I’ll make a man out of you yet, Charles Ashley.”
