The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Romance by Alyne de Winter Page A
Authors: Alyne de Winter
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By the time she reached the roof of the tower, twilight was gathering in, holding the trees and flowers in a deep blue light. A live nightingale sang among the white stems of the birches. What a mysterious place Belden House was! Strange and beautiful and somehow unreal, as if it could vanish on contact with the ground over which it seemed, sometimes, to hover like a mirage. Veronica tuned her ear for the high eerie voices of childre n singing, or the bell ringing, but heard only the trill of the nightingale. Far below, things were quiet, the soft air scented with leaves and grass and fading flowers. The moon wasn’t up yet. When it did rise, it would be empty of nearly half its light.
She gave herself up to the beauty of the evening. Frogs began to sing, night gathered in the hollow of the woods, the moon rose into the lower branches of the trees.
There was that tap on her shoulder again, a sense of being watched. Turning slowly round she saw, standing in the darkness at the top of the stairs, the tall, shadowy figure of a man. He was so still, so silent and focused upon her that her first instinct was to run. But she couldn’t run. Rather, as he came toward her out of the shadows with long, loping strides, she froze. Raw, unthinking fear possessed her. She shrank as if to hide in the shadow of the battlements, was pressed hard against the stones when he walked into the moonlight.
It was Rafe.
His low voice caressed the darkness.
“Did I startle you, Miss Everly?”
Turning away and gripping the stones of the battlements, she breathed out, "No."
His presence was like fire at her back.
"I must apologize," he said. "I wasn't sure who you were."
As if to prevent her jumping off the roof, Rafe grabbed her arm, and tugged her around to face him. Dazed by his touch, Veronica mumbled, “I don’t know what came over me, sir. For a moment I thought…. For a moment I didn’t recognize you either.”
“I’m not used to seeing anyone up here in the evenings,” he said. "I should have announced myself sooner."
Averting her eyes, Veronica nodded. Her brain felt full of cotton wool. She surrendered to Rafe's pull, and moved closer to him. Her face came to the height of his loose, open cravat revealing smooth skin and soft, black chest hairs. Veronica breathed him in. Then, surprised at her reaction, she blinked.
Rafe leaned back against the battlements beside her. Encased in tall, leather boots, his legs were long and well shaped, his coat falling open to reveal a lean, supple torso under his white lawn shirt.
“Are you all right? You look faint, as if you’d seen a ghost or something,” he said.
Veronica waved him away. “It is I who should apologize, sir. I’ve taken the liberty to come up here without asking permission. And then I behave like a child whose been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin.”
He was staring at her. She wondered if she were blushing again.
“Its... its just so wonderful up here," she said. "The view, I mean.”
“Yes, it is. I love to stand up here and watch the stars come out, one by one." He turned and raised an elegant hand to the stars. "To see Orion rise aloft. Followed by his dog.”
“Does Orion have a dog?” she asked.
Rafe pulled the long, slim telescope out from the deep, inside pocket of his coat and trained it on the sky.
“Of course. All hunters have dogs. This one is called canis major .”
Veronica smiled. “ Canis major belongs to Orion? I had no idea.”
“It's his wolf.”
“His wolf?”
“Yes. The ancestor of all dogs. Even your garden-variety pug or Pekingese, even your silly French poodle, began as a wolf. Want to see?”
Rafe held the telescope in the air with one hand, and with the other, guided Veronica to the exact position where her eye met the lens. He gave it to her and stepped away. Faint at first, but brightening in the deepening twilight, was the three-stared belt of Orion.
“He has a great club, hasn’t
By the time she reached the roof of the tower, twilight was gathering in, holding the trees and flowers in a deep blue light. A live nightingale sang among the white stems of the birches. What a mysterious place Belden House was! Strange and beautiful and somehow unreal, as if it could vanish on contact with the ground over which it seemed, sometimes, to hover like a mirage. Veronica tuned her ear for the high eerie voices of childre n singing, or the bell ringing, but heard only the trill of the nightingale. Far below, things were quiet, the soft air scented with leaves and grass and fading flowers. The moon wasn’t up yet. When it did rise, it would be empty of nearly half its light.
She gave herself up to the beauty of the evening. Frogs began to sing, night gathered in the hollow of the woods, the moon rose into the lower branches of the trees.
There was that tap on her shoulder again, a sense of being watched. Turning slowly round she saw, standing in the darkness at the top of the stairs, the tall, shadowy figure of a man. He was so still, so silent and focused upon her that her first instinct was to run. But she couldn’t run. Rather, as he came toward her out of the shadows with long, loping strides, she froze. Raw, unthinking fear possessed her. She shrank as if to hide in the shadow of the battlements, was pressed hard against the stones when he walked into the moonlight.
It was Rafe.
His low voice caressed the darkness.
“Did I startle you, Miss Everly?”
Turning away and gripping the stones of the battlements, she breathed out, "No."
His presence was like fire at her back.
"I must apologize," he said. "I wasn't sure who you were."
As if to prevent her jumping off the roof, Rafe grabbed her arm, and tugged her around to face him. Dazed by his touch, Veronica mumbled, “I don’t know what came over me, sir. For a moment I thought…. For a moment I didn’t recognize you either.”
“I’m not used to seeing anyone up here in the evenings,” he said. "I should have announced myself sooner."
Averting her eyes, Veronica nodded. Her brain felt full of cotton wool. She surrendered to Rafe's pull, and moved closer to him. Her face came to the height of his loose, open cravat revealing smooth skin and soft, black chest hairs. Veronica breathed him in. Then, surprised at her reaction, she blinked.
Rafe leaned back against the battlements beside her. Encased in tall, leather boots, his legs were long and well shaped, his coat falling open to reveal a lean, supple torso under his white lawn shirt.
“Are you all right? You look faint, as if you’d seen a ghost or something,” he said.
Veronica waved him away. “It is I who should apologize, sir. I’ve taken the liberty to come up here without asking permission. And then I behave like a child whose been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin.”
He was staring at her. She wondered if she were blushing again.
“Its... its just so wonderful up here," she said. "The view, I mean.”
“Yes, it is. I love to stand up here and watch the stars come out, one by one." He turned and raised an elegant hand to the stars. "To see Orion rise aloft. Followed by his dog.”
“Does Orion have a dog?” she asked.
Rafe pulled the long, slim telescope out from the deep, inside pocket of his coat and trained it on the sky.
“Of course. All hunters have dogs. This one is called canis major .”
Veronica smiled. “ Canis major belongs to Orion? I had no idea.”
“It's his wolf.”
“His wolf?”
“Yes. The ancestor of all dogs. Even your garden-variety pug or Pekingese, even your silly French poodle, began as a wolf. Want to see?”
Rafe held the telescope in the air with one hand, and with the other, guided Veronica to the exact position where her eye met the lens. He gave it to her and stepped away. Faint at first, but brightening in the deepening twilight, was the three-stared belt of Orion.
“He has a great club, hasn’t
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