"Are you alright, Miss Elain?" asked Mrs. Cobb moments after the carriage passed the Blythmors' house. She noticed Elain had turned pale.
Elain returned to her senses and assured the housekeeper she was fine. They started walking south, heading towards Mrs. Cobb's cottage.
Did she see it wrong?
But the image of it… the thick red liquid splattered against the clear glass window, while the inside of the carriage lay in shadow, she could not keep it out of her mind.
If it was indeed blood, perhaps someone had injured themselves accidentally?
She sighed, her hand clutching the handle of her trunk tightly. She must be overthinking things again and assuming the worst, when in reality she had not seen much.
Soon, they arrived at Mrs. Cobb's cottage, where the old woman lived with her husband, Mr. Cobb. The two worked for the Blythmors, but today Mr. Cobb had gone to visit their son who resided in the nearby village with his family.
As Elain helped the older woman gather the dried fruits laid out in the yard, she tucked away the memory of the strange carriage and engaged in light conversation with Mrs. Cobb.
They were in the middle of having a cup of tea when someone shouted from the fence.
"Mrs. Cobb! Josef has gotten himself into trouble! Mr. Cobb asked me to fetch you!"
Mrs. Cobb paled at the mention of her son's name. Elain did not hesitate to urge the housekeeper to go to him. She told her she didn't mind being alone and not to worry, as her carriage would arrive soon.
Mrs. Cobb looked torn, as she did not wish to leave the young lady alone, but in the end, Elain convinced her to go.
Elain remained in the cottage as hours passed. She looked at the clock and frowned when she saw that it was half past six.
She flinched when the sky rumbled. It had been rumbling for the past thirty minutes, the sky was about to bless the lands a good amount of rain.
"Why is Vector not here yet?" she muttered the coachman's name, growing frustrated.
Was it so difficult to have a carriage fixed?
Night had set in, and she lit more candles, as she disliked the feeling of being in the dark. Although she was a grown woman who should not fear darkness, with supernatural beings roaming freely upon the surface of the earth, humans like her knew better than to leave their backs unwatched.
Elain stepped into the foyer, watching for her carriage, which had yet to appear. She frowned when the drizzle turned into a downpour.
Standing there, she found the night air and rain too chilly, so she decided to return inside and watch through the window instead.
She was by the doorway, ready to open it, when she caught a flash of darkness in the corner of her eye.
And to her surprise, a man was suddenly standing beside her.
Her eyes widened.
Where did he come from?
The man wore a long black coat over equally dark clothes. He was not dripping, but it was clear his garments were damp, as was his short dark hair. Elain could not make out much of his features in the misty surroundings and the feeble light from the single lantern outside the cottage.
But what she could almost clearly see were his grey eyes, which seemed to hold a strange luminescence even in the dark.
"Can I be of any help, sir?" she asked gently, though she was nervous. She had not even seen where the man came from, and she was alone, with the nearest village three miles away.
One look was enough for Elain to tell that the stranger was not from the village. He was dressed well. Too well, even.
"If you would allow me to take shelter in your cottage while I wait for the rain to pass, I would be most grateful," he said, his voice smooth, carrying a gentleness that one might easily mistake for kindness and warmth.
But the way his eyes watched her made her uneasy. Those pair of silver orbs looked colder than winter.
"If you are afraid that I am a criminal with ill intentions, do not fret. I don't have such intentions," he assured, and then his lips curled. "Though, I can't be certain I can be spared from being called a criminal."
Elain was torn between going inside and locking the door, or offering the man a chair in the foyer instead of letting him in. He dressed like a man of the gentry, but being born an aristocrat did not automatically mean being a decent person.
And his kind of humour was not helping her think he was harmless.
"Are you staying here alone?" he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"N-no, I had company earlier. I'm leaving soon… once my coach arrives," she tried to keep her voice calm, but her heart was beating too loudly. There was just something about the man's stare that made her uncomfortable.
Instead of inviting him in, she had decided to tell him she could bring a chair in the foyer and perhaps some tea, using propriety as an excuse. After all, it was not appropriate for an unmarried lady to be alone in a secluded place with a man.
But before she could open her mouth, she noticed something.
Her eyes widened, more flustered now. "Are you wounded?"
Elain had not realised it earlier due to the strong scent of rain and soil, but when the air shifted from his direction towards her, the familiar rusty scent of blood did not escape her notice.
"How did you know?" the stranger asked calmly, perhaps even amused that she was able to tell.
Instead of answering, Elain opened the cottage door and stepped inside, holding it open for him. "You may come in."
It would be foolish to let a suspicious stranger into a house where she was alone, but if he was wounded and needed urgent care, it felt wrong not to help. What if he bled to death because she refused him?
Elain stepped backwards towards the inner part of the cottage as the man entered.
With the few candles lit, she could see his face more clearly, and as she studied him, she realised how handsome the stranger was.
He was tall, and though fully clothed, she could tell from his broad shoulders that he was well-built.
"Please," she gestured for him to sit on one of the chairs. "Where are you wounded?"
He did not respond. Instead, he removed his coat and draped it over the backrest of the chair, revealing a black shirt and vest. The long sleeves of his shirt met a pair of black leather gloves.
It did not take Elain more than a moment to find the wound. There was a tear in the left shoulder of his shirt, and though the colour of blood was not visible against the dark fabric, the dampness around the tear was enough for her to tell.
"I will get some water to clean it… and medicine as well," she said, a little panicked, before hurrying to the lavatory.
When she returned, the man was seated. She carried a small basin filled with clean water and a cloth. His eyes immediately found her again.
She set the basin on the table beside them.
"Do you know medicine?" he asked.
She could not tell whether his tone was wary or mocking. Perhaps she did not look like someone capable of tending to wounds.
"I am not a physician, but I do know how to clean a wound and dress it to prevent infection," she replied.
She avoided his gaze, but she had the unsettling feeling that his lips had curved into a smile. She dipped the clean cloth into the water.
"It is good to know I am in good hands, then."
This time, she lifted her gaze to his face.
He was still staring at her with those deep, intense grey eyes that made something in her stomach twist.
"Do you wish me to undress myself, or will you do it?"