"Upon my words, Isabella! They mean nothing to me." he enclosed the distance between them by covering her in his arms. At her ear, his lips almost touched her skin, he whispered, "And now, Isabella, please tell me, who is your choice?"
***
Isabella...
The head of the Lockwood family (Earl Lockwood) was delayed by his court matter that his arrival was a day late. It didn't affect the delightful atmosphere, however, between Miss Marchwood and the rest of Lockwoods. They made a perfect party and Earl Horton seemed like an outsider.
Mr Anderson and Miss Margaret were too affectionate to Miss Isabella. With the presence of the cold icy Christopher, they almost worshipped her presence as their companion. They walked her to her bedroom. They convinced her to take a walk in the garden. They stood by her side (each one by each side) like two slices of bread, forming a shape as a piece of tall rectangular sandwich as they strolled along the fresh grasses. The wintry chill carried an extra strong sense of wild flowers, a last performance of their beautiful existence before they were buried by heavy snowing in the coming winter.
The most awkward moment of the day was the dinner serving. The dining hall was elongated with a vacuumed lack of sound. The occasional giggles from Miss Isabella was criticized by the gaze of Earl Horton and the accidental noise caused by Miss Margaret's silver spoon hit against her plate was judgmentally accused by his twitched lips and brows.
"I believe dining is a pleasure and should be a divine enjoyment. A bit of chatting and a bit of cheerful sounds may give more humane senses to such mundane activity. Don't you find it agreeable, Lord Horton?" Isabella couldn't hold the soundless pressure anymore and implicitly complained about the judgemental nature of his lordship.
Earl Horton was not in a hurry to answer Isabella but he took his time to savour the food in his mouth, slowly chewing and swallowing and he looked at her with his sharp blazed eyes which sent a chill to everyone at the tableside.
"Miss Marchwood, I would like to correct your idea on dining. I'm afraid you are mistaken. Dining is in fact not a mundane activity. Of course, for a lady as high born as you are, you can never imagine skipping one or two dinners because of poverty and not for physical beauty. However, as an annual volunteer who visits the back streets of London, I can assure you that dining is a fortune. Many strive for a piece of bread just to keep a moment of breath longer to survive. So, Miss Marchwood, with such a fortunate activity you find yourself so nobly engaged to, would you care to give it more respect and to pay your gratitude to something that is not a must for everyone to enjoy in this cold brutal world? If you don't mind, I'd like to continue with my meal peacefully, thank you."
Isabella was abhorred at what Earl Horton just said and felt she was personally attacked. At that heated moment, her consciousness was filled with various remindings from her mama but she had a terrible self-control.
"The world is cold and brutal and so are you." Her words slipped away from her lips as if they had a mind of their own, yet, she didn't regret pronouncing them because her mama was absent to witness her mischief.
Mr Anderson looked at Isabella and a smile was found on his face. Before Isabella could catch that, he hid his smile and looked at his plate of food.
Lord Horton didn't give any response facially nor verbally but he appeared to be extremely calm which somehow suggested that he didn't care about how she thought of him at all. And, it made Isabella even more angry. Her flushed blossom cheeks were vaguely becoming two rose buds and she wasn't aware that Miss Margaret was looking at her with a mesmerized gaze, almost like how little girls looked at their dolls when they were isolated from the complicated adult world.
"I believe Miss Isabella is one of the kindest and most heart-warming people I've ever met. Although I respect you as papa's finest student, to use her noble birth as an accusation may not seem to be entirely fair, Lord Horton." Mr Anderson expressed and did not forget to steal a glance at Isabella to see how he would be rewarded. Certainly, Isabella looked at him and gave him a thankful smile which became exceedingly romantic when it got transferred to Anderson's view.
The same as before, no facial or verbal reply was made by Lord Horton as if he chose to isolate himself from the rest of the party and be an island within the unmatched company. Cold, dull, pedantic, and arrogant, as how Isabella made her final verdict to the Dracula.
***
It was in the middle of the night when everyone in the castle was sleeping except for Miss Isabella and Miss Margaret. As how the promise was, a girl night was being secretly held. They first spent an hour in Margaret's bedroom to read The Myth of the Moonlight Castle, however, as the excitement was decreased by the certainty that everyone was sleeping and there was no risk for them to pass their bedtime, Miss Margaret designed a terrific idea that they had to explore the castle.
Of course, there would be no excitement in exploring the dining hall or the living room or the drawing room or other "common areas" and neither did they want to withstand the chilly weather to explore the garden. So, Miss Margaret had made her decision to explore the North Wing where Lord Horton's chamber was located and she accomplished a great deal in convincing Isabella to participate.
"Margaret, are you sure it's all right?" Isabella whispered behind Margaret when they almost reached the end of the West Wing hall - the bedroom for Lord Horton.
"Of course not, Isabella. But it's exactly the element of fun, isn't it?" Margaret held Isabella's hand and led her the way.
"Yes, I believe you are right, Margaret. Perhaps we can see a different kind of Lord Horton. Perhaps we can see his secret!"
"Perhaps we can see his secret as a vampire!" Margaret exclaimed agitatedly and covered her mouth when she realised how loud that utterance had just been.
"A real Dracula," echoed Isabella quietly.
"Like Sir Thomas from The Blood Moon Abbey!" both of the ladies exclaimed keenly (in an accidental simultaneity) with a careless high pitch squeal.
Isabella was brave enough to be the first one who opened the door. She peeked through the door gap and believed she saw Lord Horton's figure sleeping in his bed.
Margaret followed Isabella as she walked to his bedside. Yet, the countenance of Margaret was shifted with the pace of her adrenaline rush when she saw the silhouette of Lord Horton wavered before her eyes.
Isabella was walking closer to his bed to what she believed held a sleeping Dracula but she was startled by the sudden alarming squeeze of her hand from Margaret. She looked at Margaret's direction and discovered Lord Horton was actually still awake and he stood by the windows, looking at the far away moon with a face which seemed like memorizing the past.
The glass of the windows reflected their dim shadows and before the ladies could escape, Lord Horton turned and beheld them with his gaze. As dark as the room was,however, favoured by the soft fragile moon light at Isabella's angle, she could clearly see the shimmering gloss of the tears on his face, streamed melancholically from his eyes to his chin. At that moment when Isabella's appearance grew sympathetic, their sight connected. He knew she saw his weakness and she knew he was depressed.
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"Oh, Lord Horton, I'm -"
"OUT!" He violently cut off Isabella's sentence, shouted at the top of his lungs and howled like a wounded beast. As if the first animalistic roar was not enough, he gnashed the words between his teeth and uttered the second time, "FOOLISH! I SAID OUT! OUT!"
