Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

witnesses.”
    By the time he walked back in the door trailing Rory Dancer, Ethella, and Mrs. Brackett, Evangeline appeared composed. The vicar had made her a strong cup of tea which she was just finishing and she 264
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    looked quite revived. Mrs. Brackett threw herself at her young mistress, embracing her tightly. “What’s been going on?” she demanded as if she were waking from a dream. “I just found myself over at their house, Miss Evie.” She gestured at the Dancers. “No idea how I got there. Where have you been, pet?”
    “I’ll tell you later, Mrs. Brackett,” Evangeline said. “Everything is sorted out. I’m going to marry Lord Ravenscroft.”
    “He must have had his birthday by now. He’ll not want you. It’s too late. Did he compromise you again, my lamb?”
    “No, no, Mrs. Brackett. It’s all settled. Let’s go into the church.”
    She smiled at Raven and his heart warmed. “I want to get married as quickly as possible. Who knows what might happen next.”

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Chapter Twenty-One
    The sun shone warmly through the partially open shutters, and the snow was already beginning to melt outside as Evangeline and Mrs.
    Brackett sat beside the blazing hearth in the Great Hall, consuming a large late breakfast. Raven sat as far from the fire as he could get, but Evangeline had insisted he not stray beyond arm’s length from her.
    They all looked up when Munk approached, her heavy boots making remarkably little noise on the stone floor. “My lord, my lady, the solicitor is here from London.”
    When Mr. Tate, of Tate and Crosswell Solicitors, crossed the Great Hall moments later, he offered a small bow to Raven. “My lord.” Then to Evangeline. “Lady Ravenscroft?” He was obviously surprised by her appearance.
    “I am indeed, and this is my companion, Mrs. Brackett.” She smiled. At once Evangeline saw the unmistakable characteristics of the vampire. Good God, these people were legion. Munk provided a chair and Mr. Tate sat down, accepting a glass of red wine.
    “Awfully bright in here, my lord.” He indicated the open shutters, though they were fifty feet away across the room. He looked at the blazing hearth and removed his coat.
    “I am a married man, Tate. I must make concessions,” Raven said from behind his blue lenses.” He drank some wine. “I know what you have come to tell me. My lady wed me only two days ago, a full three days after my birthday. My inheritance goes to Julien Ravenscroft, my married cousin in France. I do get to keep the castle though, don’t I? Castle Haven continues in my line, though only the Gods know how I will support it now.”

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    “You get to keep it all, my lord.” Tate pulled some documents from his brief case and spread them out on the table.
    “What do you mean?” Raven sat up in his chair and Evangeline reached out to take his hand.
    Mr. Tate shaded his eyes with one hand while he read. “It says right here, my lord, ‘Should bad weather prevent the heir from fulfilling his obligation in the time allotted, an extension of one sennight will be added to his thirty years. ’” He smiled. “Everyone here and in the village will attest to the snowstorm which prevented you marrying her ladyship. Should Monsieur Julien contest the will, I myself can attest to the storm. I have been trying to get here since the day before your birthday.” He smiled. “Your ancestors lived on these moors for centuries and had the foresight to add such a clause, knowing the unpredictability of the Yorkshire winter.”
    “Oh, Raven,” Evangeline burst out happily. “Now you can repair the castle and hire gardeners and take care of everyone.”
    Tate looked at Evangeline with a half-smile, then at Raven. “I hope you’ll both be very happy, my lord.”
    “We shall be, Tate, I can assure you of that.” Raven smiled.

    * * * *

    By the middle of the afternoon much of the snow was gone, and though it was still cold Evangeline wrapped up warmly to walk with Raven through the gardens, planning all she would do to bring them to life again. He wore a long coat, just a light one, made from black silk, with his hat pulled low and his glasses on. At the first opportunity he drew her under a bower out of the direct sunlight.
    “Evangeline, my love,” he whispered, fumbling with her skirts, pulling them up.
    Her back against the cold, brick wall, she said, “My lord, what are you doing?”
    “We did not consummate