Leather boots crunched the snow underfoot as they travelled through the dense forest, the owner to them observing the wildlife that had emerged after a long stretch of winter induced torment with an abundance of noise. Noise from the birds hopping from bare tree branch to the next, or rustling of leaves swaying against the nipping current of wind.
Spring was soon to step into the limelight, with her sweet call of life. Molly could not wait until this happened, she was so sick of the cold and its seize on her.
Lack of inspiration had dulled her mind, so she took to the Rose Point's forest that surrounded the estate. And much like the building itself, the forest was known to be confusing and inescapable if one delved too deeply.
Taking this into consideration, Molly had kept the building well in sight to mark her distance, and constantly checked the state of the sky over head. Despite the wind still being present, the sun was a permanent fixture that warmed Molly. Much like a child with a magnifying glass burning ants with sadistic glee; it was sad to say that Molly was the ant in this comparison.
The cruelty of it had Molly removing her coat, and draped it over her shoulders as she continued to wander the lands, journal and pencil in hand.
She was set in an undetermined path and appeared to be aimlessly wandering the snowy terrain when she spotted some flash of colour on the far side of a clearing, something that could have been easily overlooked without the assistance of a critical eye.
Molly hunched over to get a closer look as soon as she walked over to it, brow furrowed as she opened her journal to a new blank page with her pencil poised.
"Oryctolagus cuniculus...the European rabbit" mumbled Molly, eyes taking in everything to be offered.
The small creature had fallen prey to something that was larger and had sharper teeth, as was the way of the world. Though Molly sketched the complex structure of the animal's spilled innards and the natural mechanics of it, she couldn't help but feel sad.
It reminded her how life was too short and cruel, with the phantom noose that curled around her neck, pulling tighter and tighter with each passing day masquerading as something she wasn't. It was a dangerous game, one she hoped she wouldn't lose. Otherwise she was afraid she'd turn up like this rabbit, dead in some unknown field, rotting.
Her hand stilled from drawing a mangled set of lungs for a moment, releasing a melancholy sigh into the crisp air. Her stomach rumbled in response, hungry for the delicious fruit inside the manor.
Ignoring her cravings, Molly forced herself to finish her sketch before she started to make her way back.
Lifting her eyes to the sky as she walked, she studied the pale blue overhead with a soft smile. The clouds above were like sheets of fabric stitched together, something that would form the softest blanket ever known.
"What I'd give to slee-"
The words from Molly's mouth were interrupted by a startled yelp, the sound of the young pathologist tripping over something, and suddenly falling onto the snow covered ground.
"Shit" she wheezed, air knocked out of her chest from the impact. She calmed herself after a minute, trying to replace the stolen oxygen with deep steadying breaths.
Thankful that the snow cushioned her fall, she slowly lifted herself into a sitting position, glaring at the protruding object by her feet.
Lightly brushing snow from its surface had Molly's eyes widening, a lump forming in her throat at the sight of a small tombstone.
The words on the crumbling stone caused her to gasp as much as from the cold seeping into her wet clothing.
Here lies Lillian R., a child taken too soon
1803 -1810
Below the wording there was a small drawing of a single lily, made for the namesake of the child and her purity. Molly shakily climbed to her feet, taking a step towards her possessions lying on the ground, when a flash of pain in her left foot had her tumbling once again.
Kneeling over, Molly hissed through her clenched teeth at the lingering agony.
"Are you alright?"
Molly's head snapped up, expecting Mr. Lancret to be looming over her. But there was no sign of the elderly butler, only a woman that appeared a decade younger than herself.
Rather confused by her current circumstance, Molly quickly eyed the stranger. She was certainly handsome, with petite features that made her seem like those little fairies her grandmother would read to her about. Russet hair was held in braids thick like rope, which was pinned back for simplistic convenience.
Her modest dress was beautiful, grey with small yellow flowers, though nothing expensive. A thick wool shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, slipping down arms carrying a woven basket.
The clearing of the woman's throat brought Molly's attention to her eyes, steel blue that observed her expression with concern and barely hidden amusement.
Realizing that Mark hadn't answered her, Molly quickly made amends for that.
"I'm afraid not, I twisted my ankle. And it's too painful to walk on."
"Are you staying anywhere near?" The young woman made her way over to Mark's side, frowning as she hunched to peer at the foot Mark tried to place the least amount of weight on.
"The Rose Point Manor."
The nameless woman perked up, staring at Mark with a confused expression.
"Are you helping Mr. Lancret with the house?"
Mark shook his head, "I needed a quiet place to stay at for my work, now, do you mind helping me up? I'll need some assistance getting back."
"Not at all, Mr...?"
"Hooper." Mark grunted, surprised by the other's strength as she helped him climb to his feet, and bared a great deal of his weight. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, offering a tip lipped smile, "But feel free to call me Mark."
"Mark it is. My name is Charlotte, but Lollie will do just as well."
With Lollie's help, Mark managed a few steps before he twisted to look back.
"I'll need someone to grab those for me."
Lollie hummed her understanding, shuffling her basket in her other arm as she steadied her companion with a hand to his waist. "I'll let Mr. Lancret know as soon as we get you home" she spared one last glance to the jacket, journal, and pencil laying in the snow. The journal had opened up to the page of the rabbit drawing, already it was starting to become wet.
"Dear Lord" came Mr. Lancret's response to Mark limping through the manor's entrance.
Startled just as much as the obvious injury to the man enlisted into his care, Mr. Lancret was thoroughly surprised to see a familiar woman assisting him.
"Dr. Hooper and Ms. Charlotte, what on God's green earth has happened?"
Sighing as she shifted Mark's weight onto her shoulders, Lollie rolled her eyes, "What does it look like, Mr. Lancret? Mark has hurt himself. Now, I'd be grateful if you helped me take him to his room."
Mr. Lancret opened his mouth to readily comment on the intimate use of Mark's name, when the realization that perhaps once, aiding his guest was more important. He shut his mouth, and gave a collected and curt nod.
"We'll need to head upstairs" he grumbled, taking his place on the other side of Mark's body. The journey up to their destination was a long and tiresome one, there is only so far one can hop without taking a break. Those moments were brief, with just enough time to allow Mark to catch his breath before they continued on.
While it was a rather silent affair, Lollie praised the manor every chance she got, which was a lot. Everything from the paintings on the walls to the plushness of the cushions resting on the sofas, nothing was left unnoticed. And yet despite the constant chattering, the house seemed unnervingly quiet. Any sound briefly echoed before it was swallowed by the massive building.
Everyone was thankful when they reached the bedroom, with Mark releasing a particular loud sigh of relief as he finally sat on his bed.
Humming under her breath, Lollie fluffed the pillows around Mark before she faced the awkwardly standing butler.
"I'll keep him company while you go get help.
"Are you sure that's wi-"
"There's no time for your dawdling, Mr. Lancret." Lollie loudly interrupted, crossing the room with a frown, "This man needs a doctor! And you best be on your way."
Any attempts at protesting were ignored as Lollie ushered the elderly man out of the room, whispering something until he resigned to his fate and went back into the nearest town, Bromwich.
Mark was unnaturally quiet during the exchange, not even making suggestions on how to tend to his foot, as being a doctor himself gave him plenty knowledge on the task. He was left rather dazed with an overpowering sense of fear, and was thankful that the two seemed unaware of his lopsided hair and moustache. Coyly he adjusted the articles, hoping no one would notice, specifically that the snow had made his shirt transparent in some patches.
He prayed that his bindings hadn't been shown, and had taken one of the many blankets on his bed, and covered his chest with it. If anyone asked about it, he resolved to say he was feeling chilled from the incident outside.
Closing the door, Lollie spun around to face Mark with a grin.
"Finally we're all alone."
Mark cleared his throat, trying to sit up straighter as he addressed the young woman, "Thank you, Lollie. Do you mind if I ask a question?"
"Oh, not at all" she responded, plopping down on the edge of the bed.
"What were you doing in those woods?"
"Ah, is that all? Nothing to do with my deepest darkest secrets? Well you see, I was on my way to this manor when I came across you."
"The manor?"
"Yes, to visit Mr. Lancret. I have a gift for him." She placed the basket she still carried onto the bed, relaxing enough to let her shawl slip off as she pulled the small cloth covering the contents.
Mark leaned forward, "Jam?"
With a proud gleam in her eye, Lollie removed a jar from the basket, showing it to Mark.
"Not just any simple jam, it's made from rose hip."
"Is that common around here?"
Lollie nodded, taking in the bedroom as she said, "It's where the manor gets its name, the grounds are absolutely covered in roses. Since my father is the local doctor, Mr. Lancret allows us to collect the fruit when it ripens in autumn. Since we generally preserve it as jam, we often give Mr. Lancret a couple of jars to help with his joints." Lollie turned back to him, finally done with taking the room in.
"Now enough about me, do you mind if I ask questions about you?"
"Not at all, it's only right."
Glad to hear Mark's response, Lollie climbed to her feet and crossed the room to the dresser which was stacked high with books.
"I didn't take you for a romantic, Dr. Hooper" Lollie giggled, removing one of the novels. It was the one Molly read about true love a couple of nights ago.
Cursing himself for leaving the book out in the open, Mark heavily blushed as Lollie laughed at his expression, saying "Don't be embarrassed, I find it sweet. Not many men would admit to tender emotions, your wife must be very happy."
Looking away from the other's gaze, Mark mumbled out, "I'm not married."
"You aren't? But surely there's someone a man like you is courting?"
Ignoring the thought of Sherlock flashing wantingly, Mark forced himself to say, "No. My heart belongs to no one."
"Surely, you're jesting! You're a fine catch, anyone would be-" Lollie paused in her rummaging of the books, coming across a stack of old letters hidden in the middle of a journal.
She picked one up, something Molly had read to herself this very same morning. After gently unfolding it she read a few lines before she turned around, "What is this?"
Mark was slow to explain the origins of the bits of paper, "I found the letters in the manor, and I've been trying to piece together who they belonged to."
Lollie's eyes flickered towards the letter in her hand before she quickly strolled to Mark's side, offering it to him, "Well go on, read it."
Despite the dread burrowing itself into his stomach, Mark accepted the letter with a perplexed expression. "I'm sorry?"
Smiling in a way she hoped was comforting, Lollie reclaimed her seat on the edge of the bed, gesturing for Mark to read.
It took a few seconds, but Mark eventually did that, husky voice shaking as he spoke a loud.
May 11th
My dear beautiful Viola,
I met a strange man two days ago, something I had completely forgotten until now. I was strolling through the gardens we spent many a nights in, when I came across a man smelling some peonies.
I was content to walk around him when Eloise thought to introduce us, which at the time I was rather ill at ease, but now I am glad she persuaded me.
He had something of a toad appearance, but his clothing were tailored and of a rich quality. The name I came to know him by was, Mr. Allardice. I later felt ashamed of my initial unsavoury view towards him, as it became apparent he was a kind man.
And to make things even better, Mr. Allardice is a publisher that always thirsts for a new story. Eloise mentioned that I had one stuffed away in my library, and Mr. Allardice said he would be content to read it, even more so if I wished to have it in print.
I am overcome with joy, Viola. That night Eloise and I dined enough to satisfy all of London. I cannot help but think your prayers helped me, my own angel.
Yours always,
H.G.
"Do you think they lived in this house?"
Mark placed the letter to the side of the bed, "I know for a fact that Viola did. Though I'm not sure why both sets of the letters would be here, much less hidden away."
"Maybe it wasn't so much their communication that was secretive, as their relationship?"
Mark opened his mouth to comment on the idea, when the bedroom door swung open. A tall man stood in the door frame, with the same shade of red hair as Lollie, though the difference being grey peppered the sides of his. He carried a leather black bag in his hand, which immediately had Mark noticing the white medical symbol upon it.
"Father" Lollie said, immediately on her feet.
"Mark Hooper, my name is Dr. Welter. I hope my daughter wasn't pestering you." Dr. Welter said as he made his way to Mark's side, easy smile upon his lips.
"Not at all, she made sure that I never suffered a dull moment."
"She tends to do that. Now, I hear it's your foot that has been hurt?"
Mark nodded, "Yes, I believe I injured it on my way down. It's the left one."
Humming, Dr. Welter removed Mark's shoe and sock, and began to softly prob the skin. Taking note of the low whistle of misery that came from Mark as he did so, though this didn't stop him from slowly moving it around and asking of the threshold of pain. After a few moments he placed the foot back down on the bed, but not before taking a nearby pillow and putting it underneath.
"There's no cause for alarm, it's merely being twisted. It should be sore for a day or two, so I'd recommend staying off of it." He offered a small smile before he gathered his things and left, calling "Lollie" over his shoulder as he did so.
Quickly Lollie grasped Mark's hand and squeezed it, saying, "I hope we meet again under better circumstances." Her eyes lingered on his for a moment before she too collected her things and left the pathologist to rest.
And soon as the door softly clicked shut, Molly frowned. She was uncertain how to process the events that had just transpired. To calm herself, she leaned towards the small table by the bed, picking up the letter Meena had sent her.
The familiar script and scent of lemons and cinnamon that wafted off of the papers was comforting, and eagerly Molly read the letter before she drifted to sleep.
My beloved friend,
While you packed for your trip I wrote this letter, hoping to somehow instill the bravery I know you have. I'm a selfish woman, as already I wish you weren't going, but I know how much this means to you. So I want you to know, that despite the distance between us, I will always be your most loving friend.
Do not worry about him, as we both know how he hates change. He will not hear one word about your location from me, nor anyone if I have a say in it.
Please use this time to enjoy yourself, and delve deeply to find whom actually you are. As I know the question is a heavy burden for you.
I count the days until you return to me.
Yours,
Meena.