Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

Miss Rutledge, I am needed downstairs.”
    “Will his lordship come to see me today?”
    “I shouldn’t think so. He is very busy. Now that the wedding has been delayed I’ve no doubt he will see to other business.”
    “I should hate to trouble him!” Evangeline stated, as the door closed in her face. “Thank you, God,” she whispered, “for making the vicar sick.”
    After ensuring yet again that her key was safe, Evangeline set about her breakfast with enthusiasm, keeping an eye on the weather which had brightened considerably since last night. It still looked very cold though and she remembered that she no longer had a coat, having left London the second time wearing nothing but a nightgown. She must be alert to the best possible time to escape and though she was loath to walk about the castle or moors at night, she saw no other choice but to go under cover of dark.
    But what was that about going to court? Had Raven drank the blood of someone who objected and been brought up on charges? She would not be at all surprised. She could not even begin to imagine all the possible future embarrassments of being married to a vampire.

    * * * *

    Raven felt decidedly cheered after a morning of frustration. While another couple of days must pass before he could marry Evangeline, tonight he would have the distraction and pleasure of the quarterly 126
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    gathering of the people. A severe winter storm had prevented the Winter Solstice Court gathering and they had postponed it until January.
    For four centuries Court had been held at Castle Haven. There was a time, long since past, when there was a monthly meeting, held every full moon. On top of that there were four gatherings a year for the major festivals. Now that there were fewer of their kind, and they lived at such distances from each other, they met only four times a year to hold C ourt and at the same time celebrate the festivals. Some came from as far away as France and Spain.
    The carriages began arriving as soon as the sun went down, filling the courtyard with gentle noise and activity. Straw had been put down on the cobbles to muffle the clattering of carriage wheels, a gesture heartily appreciated by those whose sense of hearing was more than ordinary. At both Court and the festivals wealth and class had no bearing. Those with wealth brought their poorer cousins with them in their carriages. They were equal among their own. Only age and knowledge held status at Court .
    The wide double doors were flung open to the chill night where Raven stood, dressed splendidly, to greet his fellows. Munk beside him looked unusually dressed up in a black silk gown with her hair less severely pulled back than for daily wear.
    Never a vain man, Raven liked to dress well when Court met or a festival was upon them and he had taken great pains to be attractive this night. Among his own kind he was considered to be quite handsome, but his sense of himself had taken a few hard knocks with the insults that girl had lavished upon him this last week and he felt very insecure about his appearance, though Evangeline had had very little to say after he had pleasured her. She had been too busy panting.
    When the first of his visitors were helped down from their carriages by the footmen, Raven turned to Munk like an insecure boy.
    “Do I look acceptable, Munk?”
    The woman, who had no motherly instincts under normal Sanguinarian 127
    circumstances, looked him up and down with a smile of intense pride.
    His hair, often a little wild, was brushed to a gleaming shine, falling down his back well past the shoulder blades. A snowy white shirt with a smart black stock could be seen beneath his black silk frock coat.
    The coat fitted his long, narrow body perfectly and was made just a bit fancy by the embossed design upon it. He had had the silk especially woven and when the candlelight caught it, the outlines of the ankhs could be seen patterned against the background. His trousers also fit snugly against his long legs. His black leather boots gleamed. A large solid silver ankh rested on a long chain against his chest.
    “Like your father before you, my lord, you are the handsomest of men,” Munk said, her deep affection for her master and mistress being the closest thing she ever felt to love. “And your dear sister is the most beautiful woman on earth.”
    Raven regarded her affectionately. “Ah, my dear Munk, what would we do without you? If only my bride found me more