In The Night

CHAPTER THIRTEEN {Done}

~XIII~

The morning was grim. Hidden behind the clouds, the usual blinding light of the sun was absent and as a result the atmosphere that gripped the vast woodlands was one of gloom.

Once everyone had finished their morning meal, Charlotte had explained that Hale and Allister had much to discuss, leaving Charlotte and Ainslie to each other's company. The more that Allister's affliction became prominent, the more her friend succeeded in avoiding her company. Samual and Dante were once again occupied outside of the house - though Ainslie was left unaware as to what their tasks were within the forest.

While Charlotte had to prepare supper much like every day beforehand, with Ainslie's little attempts at help, the two women spent most of the daylight hours within the homes small sitting room where Charlotte attempted to patch up old, worn out clothes.

"Ouch," Charlotte hissed, her fingertip shooting towards her mouth as her facial features scrunched. From her position beside her, Ainslie peered at Charlotte with a frown, worried for her friend. This had been the fifth injury in the last ten minutes and yet Charlotte continued with the activity despite her pain. "I'm not very good at sewing," the older women confessed with a strained chuckle, her eyes remaining on the fabric. "But those boys are forever destroying their shirts and trousers and I can't be letting them wander around with holes in every single thing."

"Would you like my help?" Ainslie meekly offered, meeting Charlotte's wide eyed expression with a small smile.

"You know how to sew?"

Ainslie shrugged her slender shoulders, wringing her hands in her lap as she turned her gaze away from the curious women.

"It's one of the few things I was permitted to do as a child," she uttered quietly. "I was informed it was a valuable skill to have once I became a wife." Her outstretched hands grasped at the thick, ashen coloured fabric as Charlotte handed the pile over, also carefully passing both the needle and thread. Ainslie quickly got to work, her attention very much focussed on the task at hand, and not on the inquisitive mother-to-be whose gaze remained upon her.

"Marriage was important to your family then?"

"It is with most girls in my village," Ainslie commented absentmindedly, her words a soft mumbled. "A girl gets to a certain age where she becomes a burden to her father and his estate. Without a husband to support her, the family will suffer and," Ainslie sighed. "She will become a social outcast. So a women has no choice but to marry."

Charlotte's silence troubled Ainslie and when she finally looked up from her task the women's usual content nature was missing and in its place stood concern. Ainslie's smile wavered. She hated to think of Darneil but as the days passed it was becoming increasingly difficult to prevent her mind from wandering back to Bolham - her village and the people it contained.

How would her father be reacting to her disappearance? Would he have even noticed, even cared? And Darneil, was his thirst for the Clayworth fortune enough to goad the man into seeking her out. Ainslie knew that someone in the village was aware of her capture, the distinctly masculine voice which had called out to her on that first dark, terrifying night had identified her by name. This meant that at least one man of the village knew she had been stolen, at least one man had to have heard her horror, vocalised in the form of a piercing scream.

These thoughts would not escape Ainslie's mind for the remaining hours of the day. And, as she was curled tightly within her bed sheets, her eyes clenched shut in a desperate attempt to succumb to sleep and escape such fears of her upbringing, Ainslie came to the realisation that she would not fall asleep, not with her mind rife with questions she desperately wished to ask Allister.

Though incredibly weary, Ainslie escaped the comfort of her bed for the second night in a row and carefully slipped down the hall to where she hoped Allister's room still remained.

The door opened slowly with only a slight creak to highlight the motion. Inside the small room it was dark, and the only light was that of the stars and moon entering through the slightly parted, thin curtains covering the small window. From the doorway, Ainslie could make out Allister's large frame huddled beneath the large bed sheets. He was muttering in his sleep though she could not make out the words.

She hovered there in the darkness, neither entering fully or returning to her room as she gazed upon his sleeping figure, wishing desperately to step closer but simultaneously fearing to do so; until eventually all confidence abandoned her and Ainslie was urged back to her room by the queer feeling deep within her gut.

Ainslie barely gained an ounce of sleep on that night and she would not sleep in the following nights to come.

This is only a short chapter, it's a short buildup for the chapters to come.

Next update: Friday 16th September