1837
Jenna Foster was the daughter of a powerful and respected politician, and my, oh my, was Jenna’s father rich! Her mother had been a maid, so the marriage had been shunned by all in Parliament and, very soon, friends and family turned against the young couple who were unmistakably expecting a child.
Their home in Kent was of the utmost importance to the family’s lives. Jenna had been born there and the mansion was surrounded by a dark, deathly forest. Myths and legends told of a river of blood that flowed through the trees. A family, the Downstons, had been cursed by a witch to die, after stealing meat and food from her kitchens. Soon after, they were found dead in the river; their blood pouring out, creating a sheet of crimson that was unfurling across the water. Ever since, it has been said that the blood poisoned the river and all that enter the banks of it shall suffer the same fate as the Downstons. Jenna was intrigued by this and often hunted the waters with her sisters, Jemima and Dorothy.
The mansion itself was old and cracked; two great pillars stood either side of the door, holding a large, rounded balcony which linked into the sisters’ shared room. The main hall was a huge ballroom which had doors around its perimeter that took you into many other rooms. This made it the heart of the house, as the inhabitants often crossed paths here.
The grand staircase was usually a rush of servants and at the parting of the stairs hung a mirror. Heavy gold encompassed the glass itself and Jenna often used it to make last minute adjustments to her outfits. Crimson drapes hung in folds from the ceiling, with gold tapes confining them to the walls of the room. Red and white tiles crossed the floor in stepping stone formations and a balcony forming a border round the floor and ceiling, suits of armour stood either side of doorways and several huge chandeliers hung from the roof.
The gardener, Macaulay, had a small stone cottage in the heart of the woods; his family had lived there for generations. He knew his way around the woods like the back of his hand. Macaulay had a reputation for women – he was young, handsome, popular, and confident. Any girl would be delighted to be escorted by him. Except Jenna. It was well known in the villages surrounding Jenna’s home, that Macaulay was sweet on her and planned on marrying her. She was of eighteen years of age, soft dark curls fell to her waist and her green eyes sparkled like emeralds against her pale complexion. Her cheeks were tainted rose, always, and her lips were full and pink. The perfect bride. When she was found with child Macaulay was framed and blamed and dismissed immediately. The family must know, for sure, that it was not him! He never even got an apology from Jenna for her behaviour – letting him take the blame with no grounds to stand on! This only added to his fury that she was bearing a child… Especially that it was not his. To take out his anger, he would often cut wood and burn it, hence the name, ‘Ashburner’s Woods’.
Jenna was killed in these woods. Where her father had been purposefully injured there only hours before... by the same crazed murderer…
‘Father, please! My Angel must see the woods! Oh father – she must! She must!’ she’d begged. If only she hadn’t.
