The Wolves Belong Underground

Chapter 6

Maria sat at the dining room table, her hands red and sore from the silverware polish. A clean, sparkling set of silverware laid in its cushiony silk box sat on her right, on her left was the rest that needed to be finished. She looked over at the end of the table where Zorath sits for all his meals. Her curiosity was proven right, it was very lonely sitting at such a grand, empty table. It didn't seem to bother him though. He had no friends or family over for dinner, not even a mistress to keep him company on cold nights. She wondered if he purposely chose this life. She paused for a moment, her spoon polishing coming to a halt. She thought about him a lot, she realized. She shook her head, setting the spoon down. She needed to focus on other things, not about a lonely man. Perhaps she felt bad, but she didn't think he was worth her pity, let alone would he want it.

Mr. Clarke stepped into the dining room, breaking her from her thoughts. "Ah, there you are." He greeted "Lord Wolfsbane requests your presence."

"He does?" She inquired, looking out the window to see how far down the sun was. The sky was full of grey fluffy clouds, the wind making the bare trees. There's no other reason she would be needed until it was time to tutor him again.

"Yes, do hurry. He seems to be a bit anxious."

Maria set down the silver and rose from her seat. She gave him a nod of thank you as she left the room for his office. She knocked on the door and stepped in. "You wanted to see me?" she announced her presence. He was standing by the fireplace, a cigarette tucked between his fingers.

"Get your coat." He ordered, taking a drag. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"Whatever for?"

"The seamstress I usually have can't make it over before the party. We're going out to get one, I need you to come with me to take in your measurements."

"Oh," she was rather surprised by this. This was the first time since she arrived he was leaving the manor.

"Get your coat, I'll meet you outside." He nodded towards the door. She nodded and hurried down to her room, grabbing her worn-out brown jacket. She threw it on and headed to the front door. When she stepped out, she was met with the cold, autumn English air. She held her coat closer to her person, Zorath resting his weight against his walking cane by the carriage that sat in front of the manor. He was dressed sharply in a coal black peacoat, just a shade darker than his hair, and a silky black top hat sat on top of his head. The carriage was black as well, carved with beautiful details of brocade, with silver trimming around it. Lanterns hung on each side of the doors, burning light amber colors. Small sculptures of ravens sat on each corner of the carriage; their wings spread wide like they were about to take flight. She didn't recall ever seeing such an extravagant carriage before.

"Are you ready?" He asked her. She nodded and stepped forward. The rider opened the carriage door, Zorath offered her a leather gloved hand to help her in. She sat down on what she had to say was the softest carriage seat she ever sat on; the plush, deep blue velvet was so warm. She couldn't help but sit on her hands for them to warm up as Zorath climbed into the seat across from her. Once settled in, Zorath tapped his cane three time on the roof of the carriage, and the rider took off.

The ride was silent for a while, the two awkwardly avoiding eye contact as they looked out the windows.

"Where are we going?" Maria finally broke the silence.

"London." He answered, "There are a few shops closer by, but they're all shit."

"London?" She repeated. He finally looked over at her, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes?"

"My sister lives there, we're not too far from a seamstress shop. If it's the same one, may I stop and say hello?" She asked, a gimp of hope in her eyes. She had never been away from Charlotte this long since the day she was born. She missed her every day, even though she wrote to her as often as she could. Zorath stared at her for a moment, before turning his attention back to the passing trees.