Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

dark wood.
    The great four-poster bed stood looking like a mausoleum with draperies of thick velvet in black and purple. “I feel as if I am at a 40
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    royal funeral.”
    “This is your chamber, Miss Rutledge.” Munk looked down at her. “I’ll send up the maids I have chosen to serve you.” She looked at Mrs. Brackett. “You follow me. I’ll take you to the servants’
    quarters.”
    “Now you look here!” Mrs. Brackett may have been several inches shorter than Munk, but she was wider by far and she’d take no nonsense from the likes of her. “I stay with Miss Evie, so you can give me the chamber next door and until it’s ready for me I’ll sleep here.” She stamped one foot hard on the freezing floor to punctuate her words. “When’s that monster going to marry the young lady?”
    Munk narrowed her dark eyes, staring hard at Mrs. Brackett. “Do not call Lord Ravenscroft a monster. He is nothing of the sort. The poor man has been grossly misjudged. He is your master now, and you will remain here only as long as he wishes.”
    Mrs. Brackett plumped her hands on her wide hips. “Poor man?
    He’s been stalking and terrorizing this young lady for the past two days. If we had our way we’d have stayed in London to start up a nice little boarding house for genteel ladies, not that you’d know anything about gentility.” She looked Munk up and down scathingly. “So don’t you go telling me about Lord Ravenscroft. He ought to be locked up.”
    Munk drew herself up taller still. Her bearing reminded Evangeline of Raven. Indeed there were strange similarities among all the staff, except Hodder, almost as if they were all distantly related.
    “Please remember that I run this castle. You are a servant, and if you stay here, then I will assign you your duties,” Munk said.
    “Get out, go on, clear off!” Mrs. Brackett raised a threatening arm and stepped forward. Munk took a step backward. Obviously disconcerted by the bombastic Londoner, she left the room. “I’m not scared of the likes of you!” Mrs. Brackett called after her.
    Candles had been lit about the chamber, yet they gave only scant light. If she were to live here, Evangeline thought, she would have to make some changes. A blaze in the hearth drew both women toward Sanguinarian 41
    it. They stood for several minutes in silence, their hands extended toward the warmth. The day had taken its toll on them both.
    At last Evangeline turned to look at her valise. She would have to decide on the most acceptable gown to wear to dinner. She had only two and neither was fashionable. In the end she settled on a long-sleeved plaid wool. While it was acceptable for walks to the library and the park and was in very good repair, thanks to Mrs. Brackett, it made her look far younger than she was.
    Having dismissed the maids who had come to dress her, she sat at the dressing table mirror allowing Mrs. Brackett to arrange her hair.
    The housekeeper had set the curling tongs to heat in the hearth to force Evangeline’s perfectly straight hair into ringlets to tie up behind her head with a matching plaid ribbon.
    “I’ll die, Mrs. Brackett, I will truly.” She looked at herself in the glass. “Even if that harrowing man never lays a hand on me I will die from living in this cold, depressing castle. There is no life here, the very air and stones are dead and empty. Do you feel it, the desolateness of it all?”
    “It smells funny, too, have you noticed, lamb?” Mrs. Brackett wrinkled her nose.
    “Yes, it smells like the earth,” Evangeline agreed. “The earth in winter. Do you think he plans to marry me tomorrow?”
    “I’ve been wondering about that and while it may not be tomorrow it will be very soon. Remember what your uncle said, pet, he needs to wed within the fortnight.”
    “Do you think there is still a chance we could escape?”
    Mrs. Brackett dragged over a heavy chair and sat down beside her young mistress. “What’s to be done? He’s on to us now.”
    “I could throw him off the scent,” Evangeline said. “Just to give us some breathing space.”
    “I see what you mean.” Mrs. Brackett nodded. “Act as if you’ve accepted the situation. Mind your manners, do as he tells you, and all the while you and I can be thinking of a plan of escape.”

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    “Yes!” Evangeline leaned forward, more animated than she had been all day. “If I can make him feel secure, he might leave the nuptials for