Amabelle

Chapter Three

“I could ask the same of you.” She replied flatly. His eyes had lit up upon seeing her.

“My mind was so restless, that I came out here to refresh myself.” He stated, smiling at her. “What brings you out into the night?” She searched for an excuse.

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” She bayed, drawing closer. “Earlier today, I had not in fact been riding; I had been out in the woods. Mother came in search of me, and then thought that I ought to be cleared up before anyone saw me in that state. She had come upon me so suddenly that I had dropped my sketch book, and was not been given a chance to get it back. Mother has forbade me from going back to the woods while we have guests, so my only choice is to get it now, before it rains and spoils my drawings.” She finished, pleased that she had not had to lie too much.

“Then I must come with you! The forest at night is no place for a lady!” He pointed out.

“You are forgetting one thing – I am not a lady, I am still a girl. If you want to help me, it would be far more helpful for you to make sure my mother has no suspicion that I am in the woods. Otherwise, you may as well go back to bed. I have spent my whole childhood in those woods, and know it better than any other being.” With that she ran off into the trees and out of sight. He stood there a while, considering what to do. He would follow her, but he knew she didn’t want him to. He thought it better to stand watch for her, as she had suggested.

She hoped he had returned to his bedchambers, as she wasn’t planning on coming back any time soon. She had in fact left her sketchbook here, but stored away in a safe place. Her mother did not approve of her artwork. She believed that only beautiful things should be drawn. Amabelle always drew hideous creatures, or desolate forest scenes – not particularly fine or beautiful for a cultured lady to be creating. Amabelle disagreed; she felt art should convey emotion. She did not see the point in drawing vases or table cloths, as how can an inert object possibly convey emotion? She lay down in a clearing, and she could feel the soft, cold moonlight on her face, her hands, her neck, her arms, her legs... Then she remembered Master Digby. He would most definitely be awaiting her return. She sighed. Perhaps she could escape again later, once he’d gone. Snatching her sketchbook, keeping her story’s credibility, she swiftly made for the path and then the house. She was right. He was standing there, obviously concerned over something.

“Ah! You’re back, and I see you have retrieved your sketchbook successfully. That’s good.” He smiled again the same hopelessly useless smile. Smiles would not sway her feelings.

“Yes, and thank you for waiting, it took me a bit longer than I had thought to find it. Well, good night Master Digby!” She departed up the vines and onto her balcony, closing the doors behind her. He almost followed her, but that would have been indecent. That didn’t change the fact that it tempted him.

In her room she went over her day’s sketches. The most recent was that of the demon she had been speaking to. He was an interesting fellow. He’d been exiled from hell because he was selling pails of water to quench the fire. If he hadn’t been a demon, she would have said he’d been quite charming. She felt so annoyingly bored, so she simply uttered a spell, and made herself unconscious. It wasn’t an incantation meant to remedy insomnia, it was primarily for knocking out enemies, but it did the trick anyway.

She regained consciousness by morning. The day was a bore, lots of socialising with husbands and gentleman friends, barely seeing her sisters. At least she hadn’t seen Master Digby. She was leaving the room, when her mother cornered her.

AN

Hellooo! 20 reads? Merci beaucoup! :)

Dedicated to @evermore_360 because they said they liked it! :D

- Mirabel