Chapter Two

As they left London behind and journeyed further into the countryside the weather significantly improved. The clouds gradually changed from heavy purple in colour through to pale grey until finally the sunshine broke through and with it a clear blue sky. The wind however, remained strong. Catherine was so overcome with joy at the sight of green fields that she leant out the window of the coach and inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with clear air, delighted to not be able to smell the smog and soot which polluted the London air. Wildflowers lined the roads in bright fireworks of colour: pinks and purples, yellows, reds and whites. The carriage came to a stretch of road lined by huge oak trees growing on either side, their branches so long that they met each other in the middle of the road in a canopy which glowed green as the sunlight shone through the leaves, creating a mosaic of light and shadow upon the road. The road twisted and began to progress downhill towards the village of Silverydew.

"We shall stop at Silverydew for a while so you may rest before you continue on to Moonacre." Hadaway said.

"Alone?"

"I'm afraid so, my lady. I am expected back at my offices."

"So you have to travel all the way back to London?"

"Oh no, I split my time between my firm in London and my offices in Silverydew."

The coach pulled to a stop outside Mr. Hadaway's offices and the solicitor hopped from the coach, offering a hand to Catherine to help her down. "Hadaway & Son Solicitors" the sign above the door proudly proclaimed.

"Your son followed you into the family business?"

"Ah…no, actually, I never married. I inherited the business from my father." Hadaway said, reddening behind the ears a little as he opened the door for her and ushered her inside.

Catherine found herself in a dismal little room which seemingly served as a waiting room for Hadaway's clients; three of the walls were lined with bookcases which overflowed with all manner of books, files, scrolls, manuscripts and ledgers; the fourth wall held a row of rickety wooden chairs for clients to sit upon while they waited; a maze of tables and filing cabinets twisted throughout the room, all as cluttered as the bookcases.

"It seems you could do with someone to arrange some sort of filing system for you, Mister Hadaway." Catherine observed wryly. The sudden screech of a chair being pushed backwards brought Catherine's attention to the clerk she had failed to notice before, sitting hunched in the corner of the room with his back to a window, scratching away with a quill and parchment.

"I does me best 'ere, mum. Honest I does!" the clerk squawked, a note of injure in his voice. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five with a long, homely face and wide blue eyes. He picked his way quickly through the network of tables and filing and cabinets and was standing before Catherine in no time - clearly he was well practiced at having to negotiate his way around the disorderly room - scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes.

"This is my clerk, Josiah Flitch." Hadaway said, sounding a little exasperated.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, mum." said Flitch brightly, offering a hand, the fingers stained with black ink, to shake Catherine's.

Hadaway was horrified, "This is Lady Catherine Merryweather, you fool!" he exclaimed, swatting Flitch's scruffy hand away, "Bow!"

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, mum." Flitch repeated, his bow was more of a spasm at the waist in Catherine's direction.

"My lady." Hadaway hissed.

"M'lady." Flitch intoned.

"If you'd like to come through to my office, my lady?" Mr. Hadaway said, steering her towards a door in the bare wall of chairs which Josiah Flitch dashed ahead to open for them. The solicitor escorted her into his office - which turned out to be just as cluttered as his waiting room - then, realising that Flitch had trailed in after them, dismissed the clerk with a wave of the hand. Flitch looked petulant for a moment then left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Do sit down, do sit down." Hadaway said, scooping a pile of envelopes off a spare chair and depositing them with his hat upon the piles of papers on his desk. Catherine settled herself in the chair while the old man did likewise in his own on the other side of the desk.

"Please excuse Josiah, what he lacks in manners he makes up for in…" the solicitor trailed off, looking puzzled, as though he had just realised that Josiah Flitch had no redeeming qualities whatsoever and was wondering why on Earth he had hired him.

"I do hope I didn't offend him when I remarked upon the state of your offices, I realise it really wasn't my place to say such a thing." Catherine said carefully.

"Eh?" Hadaway said, roused from his contemplation, "Oh not at all, my lady, not at all! Though you are very right, I really should get someone in to deal with the files."

"I'd be happy to do it myself, even."

The old man looked appalled at the mere idea of it, "Oh, Heavens no, my lady! I could never ask you to do such a thing!"

"Why ever not? I'm not in school any longer and I don't expect I shall be doing anything with my days from now on - I'll be positively bored to death!"

Hadaway merely made a sound of noncommittal and changed the subject, "Oh! You simply must forgive me! I've been terribly rude and haven't even offered you any refreshment after such a long and uncomfortable journey! What will you have?"

"Just water please."

"Flitch!" Hadaway bellowed, making Catherine jump. For a moment they heard the sound of shuffling about in the other room - Catherine could easily picture the skinny clerk scuttling amongst the warrens of tables like a weasel as he made his way across the room to answer his employer's call - a moment later the door swung open slightly and Flitch's pale face appeared through the gap.

"What?" he said insolently, then, seemingly remembering himself, amended this to, "Yes, Mister 'adaway?"

"Fetch some water for Lady Merryweather."

The clerk blinked for a moment, "To drink?" he asked blankly.

Hadaway was speechless and Catherine was sure he would lose his temper with the clerk just as soon as he found his voice, "Yes, thank you Josiah. That'll do nicely." she said quickly. Flitch shrugged and sloped away in search of water, closing the door behind him.

"To drink? To drink? Well, what else does one do with water, I ask you?" Hadaway blurted, staring in bafflement at the door after Josiah.

Catherine could scarcely contain her laughter at the pair, so instead she said, "Tell me, sir, how is it that you came to employ Josiah?"

"He used to do the occasional piece of copy work for the London firm. When my previous clerk, a man by the name of Lilywhite, emigrated to America with his family, I suggested that Flitch take his place."

"How long has he worked for you?"

"Two years this August." There was a sudden loud crash from the room next door and the sound of a muffled curse.

Hadaway winced, "He isn't very bright." he added quietly in a conspiratorial voice, as if she hadn't noticed.

At that moment the door opened and Flitch returned, plonking a glass and a pitcher of water on the desk. Hadaway gave him a meaningful look and, surprisingly, Flitch got the message for he picked up the pitcher and slopped some water into the glass which he handed to Catherine with a grin.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, Lady Catherine? Some fresh fruit perhaps?" Hadaway asked. Out the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Josiah stiffen slightly and furrow his brow; she understood immediately that despite the fact Mr. Hadaway had asked if there was anything else he could get for her, the task would undoubtedly fall to the lowly clerk of seeking out fresh fruit should her whim demand some - something which Josiah understandably felt none too happy about.

"No, thank you, sir. I expect I shall eat when I arrive at Moonacre." she said, taking a sip of water, "Is it a very far journey to the Manor?"

"Nah, it ain't." Josiah butted in, "'bout an 'alf hour walk if you walk quick."

Mr. Hadaway shot his clerk a dark look, "Josiah, hadn't you better be getting on with copying up Mr. McGregor's will?" he said, his voice menacingly calm. The clerk glowered unashamedly at his employer then trudged from the room, once again slamming the door impressively behind him.

Catherine cleared her throat to fill the awkward silence, "How has my brother taken my mother's death?" she asked.

"Ah. In truth, Lady Catherine, Sir Benjamin has not been himself since…" Hadaway stopped mid-sentence, an expression of alarm passed fleetingly over his face then his features relaxed themselves into something of a forced nonchalance, "Your brother is expecting your arrival any moment now, we'd best not keep him waiting." he said hurriedly, rising from his chair and crossing the room to open the door for her. Catherine was confused, normally the solicitor was the very definition of good manners but now he seemed determined to hurry her out the room, for fear of saying something he shouldn't.

Catherine followed Mr. Hadaway from the office and outside. As she passed through the waiting room she noticed that Flitch had returned to his hunched position over his work so she called to him, "Goodbye, Josiah." to which he grunted, "A pleasure, mum." without so much as raising his head.

Outside, the coach driver was leaning against the carriage, awaiting her return. Catherine stopped in her tracks and stared up at him in surprise.

"Digweed? Is it really you?" she gasped.

"That it is, my lady, that it is!" the man smiled. Digweed had worked for her family for as long as she could remember as a mixture of a coach driver, butler and an odd-job man; the last time she had seen him, she had been eight years old and he had drove her and her nursemaid to London when Catherine's mother had sent her to boarding school. He hadn't changed in the slightest in the ten years she had been away.

"I can't believe it! I didn't recognise you in London because the wind blew my hair in my face. It's so wonderful to see you!" Catherine cried, throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. Digweed laughed a little nervously at being hugged in such a way by the lady of the house but couldn't hide his ecstatic grin - he was pleased to see her too.

"Thank you for escorting me home, sir." Catherine said, turning to Phillip Hadaway and shaking his hand.

"The pleasure was entirely mine, my lady." Hadaway said, keeping hold of her hand so as to help her up into the carriage. Hadaway closed the carriage door behind her and knocked on it twice in a friendly farewell. Digweed took his place once again up in the driver's seat and spurred the horses onwards. And so Catherine continued her journey to Moonacre alone.

Catherine resumed her position leaning out the open window for the rest of the journey, filling her lungs with the clean country air and admiring the fine scenery. They were about halfway to the Manor when they passed a group of people standing at the roadside. There was three of them, all dressed in black and lurking half-hidden amongst the trees at the edge of the vast forest which began alongside the road to the Manor. At the exact moment they passed them, a strong gust of wind barrelled past the carriage, caught the scarf in Catherine's hair and wrenched it away, causing her black curls to come spilling out into the breeze. Catherine watched as the crimson material rode the wind back in the opposite direction, flapping like some bright exotic bird until one of the people by the roadside shot their hand up and caught it in midair. The only look Catherine got of the person before the carriage thundered past was a glimpse of dark eyes and brown curls.

"Who are those people standing by the roadside?" Catherine called up to Digweed, "One of them has my scarf." Digweed didn't answer, merely continued to sing tunelessly to himself as he had all the way back from London. Catherine ducked back inside the coach and continued the rest of the journey with her hair once again flapping in her face.

The sight of the Manor crept up on her so suddenly that it took Catherine a split second to realise what she was looking at; one moment she had been staring out the window at the innumerable trees which passed the carriage window when, abruptly, they had stopped and she found herself staring up a grassy slope which gradually formed into a hill upon which Moonacre Manor sat. Her home.

The carriage stopped at a gatehouse and Digweed jumped down and walked to the gate, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket as he went. Once the gate was raised, he climbed back onto the carriage and ordered the horses to walk on, reaching up to pull a chain which closed the gate as soon as the carriage was on the other side.

Tall, black poplar trees lined either side of the gravel drive, blocking almost all light until, quite suddenly, the line of trees stopped, allowing Catherine a clear view of the park. Catherine admired the vast sprawl of grass with its occasional group of trees scattered here and there, in the distance she spotted a herd of deer grazing peacefully and she could even see where the vast stone wall which bordered the estate stopped and started up again, leaving a sizeable gap which allowed access to the forest growing wild and untameable beyond. Catherine now turned her attention to the house, she was seeing it afresh for, in her many years away from home, she had forgotten what the Manor looked like. She was not disappointed, the Manor was so beautiful that Catherine took a moment to thank God that she should be blessed to live in such a place.

The Manor itself was Westerly facing and made of pale grey stone, with two towers and its numerous spires, a blue slate tiled roof and many large windows - some of which were stained glass - it looked like something out of one of the fairy tale books which Catherine loved so much as a little girl. However, as the carriage pulled to a stop outside the house, Catherine noticed the blemishes upon the house's exterior where its upkeep had clearly been disregarded for some time: weeds and plants grew in cracks between the stone, tiles were missing here and there from the roof, the windows were covered in dust and grime and some panes of glass were cracked.

Digweed opened the carriage door and helped her down with an encouraging smile and Catherine took a moment to straighten her appearance and glance about at her surroundings.

"Catherine." a voice said suddenly, causing her to turn her head quickly to look at the grand front doors of the Manor. Standing in the doorway, half masked in shadow, was her brother Benjamin. He stepped out of the shadows and Catherine took a step forward to meet him. For a moment, they merely stood still, each studying how the other had changed over the past ten years. Catherine was shaken by how much Benjamin looked like their father; while she herself was tall for a girl of her time, Benjamin stood at a height well past six feet; his shoulders and chest were broad and his arms strong; his hair was the same wavy ink black and his eyes the same deep, impenetrable brown. His face looked as though it were carved entirely out of white marble; pale and utterly smooth, he was extraordinarily handsome with his strong, square jaw and long straight nose; his lips were sharp and set into a stern line.

"Hello Catherine." he said, his face expressionless.

"Hello Benjamin." she replied shyly. Cautiously, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, struggling to hold in the sob which was building in her throat. She got the impression that he was quite taken aback by her action, for he cleared his throat uncomfortably and patted her briefly on the back. When the pair stepped apart he cleared his throat again before speaking.

"Come, I shall show you to your room." he said, turning and leading the way inside the Manor.

The walls of the Entrance Hall were a fading powder blue and were painted with yellow flowers and vines, marble pillars lined the room and an exquisite fireplace, carved with the figures of mermaids, stood to one side. In front of the fireplace, upon the white and blue tile diamonds of the floor, basking in the warmth and the glow of the flames crackling in the grate, lay a large black dog.

Upon seeing her, the dog stretched extravagantly then got up, prowled over towards Catherine to give her a sniff and, upon seemingly deciding that she posed no threat, pressed its head into her palm, demanding some attention. Catherine stared down in a mixture of terror and wonderment at the huge beast which was neither dog nor wolf. The creature stared back with doleful brown eyes.

"My God! What is it?" she exclaimed.

"His name is Wrolf. He appeared out of the forest one Christmas Eve and hasn't left since." Benjamin explained absentmindedly as he started up the stairs which ran alongside the front door before turning sharply to the right above the door and up to the second floor. "He shan't harm you. He knows you're of Merryweather blood."

"Do you, now? Good boy." Catherine said quietly to the dog, stroking the satin-like fur upon his head. Wrolf looked up at her lovingly with his large drooping eyes and, for a fleeting second, she was sure that they flashed red. Catherine started but dismissed it as her imagination then turned quickly and ran up the stairs after her brother. He was waiting for her on the second floor landing.

"This way." he said, leading her along the corridor and through a pair of doors to the East Wing of the house. They stopped before a door with the sprawling image of a cherry blossom branch carved into the wood, Catherine was amazed at how much craftsmanship had gone into creating the intricacy of each tiny flower and even the patterns of the bark upon the branch.

"This is your room. I don't know how well you will remember it." Benjamin said, opening the door before turning and walking back down the corridor the way they came, without another word.

The room was light and airy and facing Eastward so as to catch the dawn sunlight. The ceiling was high and carved with plaster ivy tendrils which gathered to form the base of the crystal chandelier with its delicate tear shaped droplets. These hanging droplets caught the sunlight and scattered little rainbows about the room. The white walls were painted with fading flowers; pink roses, lavender, poppies and forget-me-nots climbed the walls from the honey coloured Oak floor. Into one wall was set a fireplace, a beautiful white marble affair with two carved unicorns flanking it, and in front of this was an armchair of a dusky golden material with a matching footstool. A small Oak end table was placed beside the armchair, on top of this was a golden oil lamp, its glass shade painted with pink roses. Both the table and the lamp were carved with ivy: the leaves trailed up the table legs and around the stand of the lamp. Standing either side of the fireplace was a wardrobe and a roll-top desk, they were both made of the same honey coloured Oak wood which seemed to be a theme running throughout the room just as the dusky gold material was. To the right of the door, standing on a raised section of the floor was a four-poster bed with gold silk sheets and white chiffon hangings embroidered with little golden flowers. Directly opposite the door were some French Doors leading out to the balcony, they shared the same sheer hangings as the bed and the balmy sunlight shone through them, illuminating the whole room. To the right of the bed stood an Oak dressing table and mirror. Finally, to the left of the bed was a window set into an alcove, the window seat below it was cushioned in the same gold material as the armchair and the covers on the bed; shell-pink cherry blossom was painted onto the wall, framing the alcove. Either side of the alcove stood two Oak bookcases, empty apart from a small cluster of books of Fairy Tales left over from her childhood.

Catherine walked out onto the balcony; it overlooked the gardens and below was a trellis laden with pink climbing roses. She leant against the balcony rail and gazed at the countryside around the manor. The gardens sprawled out below the balcony, albeit overgrown they had a kind of wild charm about them. They were surrounded by a high crumbling stone wall which separated them from the forest which loomed up so close to the wall that some long branches overhung into the garden. Catherine stared at the forest: it exuded some sort of magnetism which attracted her towards it like a moth to a flame, from the outside it looked so wild and foreboding but inside she was sure it was alive with beauty.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and Catherine went back inside to find Digweed had arrived, puffing and panting, with her luggage.

"Oh let me help you!" she said, rushing to take a coupe of suitcases from him before he keeled over.

"Sir Benjamin requests that you join him in the parlour as soon as you have finished unpacking your things." Digweed said between gasps for air.

"Thank you Digweed." He nodded then hobbled from the room, straightening his back with some difficulty.

Catherine spent about half an hour unpacking her trunks; she hung her many dresses and clothes in the large wardrobe which stood on one side of the fireplace and was pleased to find that they all fit inside with plenty room to spare; she lined up the books she had brought with her on the bookcases and placed the Japanese Geisha ornament and the glass prism upon her mantelpiece; finally she placed her childhood teddy-bear and the family photograph on the bedside cabinet. Before she left the room, Catherine stopped to study the jewellery box, carved entirely out of a solid piece of Rose Quartz, which was set upon her dressing table, almost as if it had been waiting patiently the ten years of her absence for her return. She opened it but found it to be empty, all except the theme from 'Swan Lake' which it played in sweet tinkling notes like fairy bells.

Benjamin was sitting in an armchair beside the fire in the Entrance Hall with Wrolf lying at his feet.

"I trust you are happy with your room?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of brandy from a cut crystal decanter. The rich amber liquid sloshed into the glass in a spiral.

"Yes, thank you." Catherine said, tracing the spiralling vines and flowers carved upon one of the pillars with her finger.

Benjamin raised the glass to his lips, "You may wish to look in the old nursery, I believe Mother had some of your belongings packed into boxes and stored in there after you left," he paused for a moment, savouring the taste of the drink, "After the funeral we will go to Mister Hadaway's office for the reading of her will. Before she died, she had most of her belongings bequeathed to you."

Catherine was surprised that this woman, who had had almost nothing to do with her in the last ten years, and almost as little in the years before she attended school, would do such a thing. She felt a rush of tenderness for the mother she barely knew.

"When will the funeral be?" she asked quietly.

Benjamin took another mouthful of brandy before answering, "I have arranged to have it take place three days from today."

"Where…where is she?"

"The Doctor's surgery in Silverydew."

"May I go see her tomorrow?"

"As you wish." Benjamin shrugged.

"Have you written to George?" Catherine asked tentatively, knowing the dislike which flowed between her two brothers.

"Yes."

"Will he be attending the funeral?"

"I have not yet received a reply."

"Oh. Well…I'm going to take a turn around the garden - with your permission, of course?"

"As you wish." Benjamin repeated with another shrug, "Only, stay away from the forest."

"Why?"

"It isn't safe."

"Why?"

"You always did ask too many questions. Even as a little girl you were forever asking questions." A flicker of a shadow of a smile might have crossed Benjamin's face, "Take Wrolf with you."

"Come on Wrolf." Catherine said and the huge dog immediately got to his feet and followed her.

It was only when she was outside that it occurred to her that Benjamin had not told her why the forest was so dangerous.