Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she melted to her knees. She crumpled forward and laid on her front, sobbing desperately. It was not because she did not know where she was— in fact, her surroundings felt oddly familiar— nor was it because of the immense amount of fear that coursed through her veins. No. She could finally feel why she was choking on the salt of her tears: grief. It was an immense amount of grief that was shattering her very soul. She did not know why she was feeling that emotion in particular, but she knew now that grief was the cause of her sobs and shrieks.
She could feel the men crowding in back of her. She knew whom they were waiting for. She could feel him approaching. She always felt his approach. It came over her like a cold drizzle of water down her spine, the rivulet insidiously firing each nerve. Then he was there behind her.
"Camilla Allsbrook," he drawled in the strong accent of a Scotsman, punctuating the last syllable of her surname with a popping noise of the lips. She jerked her head to look at him. His gruesome appearance never surprised her. No, the horrifying blend of squid and man that made his face seem like it could have bled off the pages of a Grecian myth were not what elicited the gasp that parted her lips. What shook her was the intense hatred in his eyes when they locked with hers. She snapped her head back to the ground, her sobs coming in short gusts. Then the short gusts stopped all together, and despite all her effort, her torso would not go through the motions of breath. A sickening ache started to spread throughout her stomach, like smoke from a fire intruding one's nostrils, throat, and lungs. And then Lady Camilla Allsbrook shot up in bed, panting, covered in cold sweat.
Camilla pulled her fur blanket over her shoulders. This night the dream had evolved a step further. Never before had her dream-self's emotions been so poignant, and never before had her dream-self felt the emotion of grief. Camilla shivered, and pulled the fur blanket tighter to her skin. She reclined back onto her pillows, shifting her legs out from under their shroud of silk and eiderdown and into a bent position.
"So it didn't work even at the highest dose," Camilla whispered. She had taken the floral draught that her family's physician, Dr. Rossworth, had given her for sleep disturbances, promising it would stop her nightmares. She never had any trouble with sleep until spring of the previous year after she turned seventeen. That was when she had first had the dream. At first she thought it was just a simple nightmare, but as each night past from her seventeenth birthday, the dream lengthened and became more vivid to the point where she did not want to engage it any further. That is when she finally consulted Dr. Rossworth.
She wasn't even sure how her mind came up with the man in her dream. She had never heard of such a monstrous man in any tale she knew, nor did she want to hear a story of such an evil being. Camilla gently shook her head. I need to stop thinking about this. She looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was three o'clock, just as she had guessed. Her eyes shifted their gaze upwards and out the open doors of her balcony. Camilla was already beginning to be soothed by the glow of the early morning moon. Camilla rose from her bed, and drifted over to her balcony and opened the paneled glass doors. She inhaled deep slow breathes of the sea air that wafted from the bottom of the cliffs that her father's estate, Rockscliffe had been named for. A slight smile graced her lips as she watched the dark waves, strong and loud, that where only a quarter mile away from where she stood.
As far back as Camilla could remember, she had always been drawn to the sea. One of her favorite childhood memories was of when her father had shown her the hidden passage from the house that lead to a cave that opened to a small stretch of rocky beach. Her father allowed her to take off her shoes and stockings and wade in the incoming tide. Unlike her mother, she always felt safe when close to the water. The heady saline scent and the hypnotic sound of the waves made her feel like she transcended her body, Rockscliffe, and everyplace she had ever been.
Camilla's eyelids were starting to droop as she stood leaning on the railing of the balcony. Sleep was tugging at her like the breeze running through her thick cascades of curls. She took one last loving look at the sea before she turned around and went to her bed. As swiftly as a wave can wash a single shell away from sight Camilla was cast off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
"Now my darling, we will be having a very important guest visit us tomorrow," stated Emmett from across the breakfast table, folding a letter that he had finished reading.
Camilla blinked as she pulled her thoughts away from her nightmare. It had been the first thing on her mind since her maid had come in to rouse her. "And who might this guest be?" questioned Camilla, as she quickly added two lumps of sugar to her tea and a drop of milk, hoping her father hadn't noticed her slight stupor. She smiled at her father before taking a dainty sip.
Emmett waited for her to set down her tea before replying, "Your cousin Joshua Allsbrook. He is coming to stay here for a while and learn about the running of Rockscliffe. After all, he will inherit it, as well as my title."
Camilla rolled her eyes. "You mean the complete stranger that would have never ever thought himself an Earl if I was blessed with a brother?"
Emmett chuckled, " Come now, Camilla. I know you are quite tired, but please do not be bitter. He may be a stranger, but I'm sure after you have met him you will surely find him most agreeable. Your mother and I both think he is a fine man. He has been very anxious to meet you."
I'm sure he has, mused Camilla irritably as she took another sip of her tea. Ever since she came out many eligible noblemen had always desired to be acquainted with her. She suspected it was due to her sizable dowry, although most would say it was due to her breathtaking beauty. Despite this, none of her admirers had given her an offer of marriage, a very vexing notion to a young woman who had been told she would surely be snatched up after her presentation. Camilla scoffed, "Perhaps I will, but I doubt he is more fine than any other gentleman that I know of."
Emmett rose from his chair, and sighed, "Very well, my darling. Just please keep an open mind." He began to leave the breakfast room, but then turned to his daughter who now sat with her brow furrowed. "Oh, and I almost forgot. We have received quite a few letters from our friends in the Caribbean. They are in the study if you would like to read them."
"Now that I shall do immediately," replied Camilla as she stood from her chair. It had been quite sometime since she heard from her closest friend, Elizabeth. Camilla gave her father a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before heading to the study. Perhaps Elizabeth may know some tale of a man with a face of tentacles, thought Camilla with a grimace. Or how to ward off an unwanted suitor.