Turned 2: The Bramblewood Werebear

Chapter 5: Unexpected visit

Jennie's sleep was full of restless dreams. She had closed her sitting room door to hide the bear painting, but it lingered in her mind. Beastly figures stalked her dreams, crouched in the shadows. Often she relieved the werewolf's attack, only to see it rear up on two legs, a towering bear with savage claws and teeth.
She slept late the next morning. By the time she arose and dressed, Oliver had gone to town on business.
"But he left this for you, ma'am," said Harriet the maid, presenting a letter on a silver tray.
Jennie took breakfast in her sitting room, near her open window, with her back to the painting. The letter waited beside her plate, ominous. What might he have said? What other terrifying secrets might he have in store?
Perhaps she should end the engagement. Jennie gazed out the window at the grounds. It all could be hers--yet at what cost? Marry a monster and damn her own soul? When children arrived, what if the beast sought to devour them? There was no atrocity her fevered imagination could not conjure.
More than half convinced that breaking the engagement was good and right, she opened Oliver's letter.

Jennie,

I am meeting with my solicitor today to discuss taxes and possible extortion. Yet you weigh heavily on my heart. The three wolf men who are threatening me prowled all about Bramblewood last night. I fear the worst.

You mentioned in one of your letters that you are adept with a light fowling-piece. If you desire to walk abroad, ask the butler to give you mine. If a strange animal approaches you, shoot it. That goes double for strange men.

My love, many hard things lie between us. Please do not let my little problem ruin this love we have built together.

Many thoughts,
Your Oliver

Tears filled her eyes. She set the letter aside and wept a little for the tenderness of his heart. Bear or not, he was her dear friend. She had wronged him with her fearful thoughts--while he had been working constantly to protect her. "You are a foolish, silly woman," he told herself. "You do not understand a thing about him or his power, yet you are driving yourself mad with fear."
The fear persisted, but she had a handle on it, now. She went to the washroom and bathed her face in cold water. It calmed her and cooled the redness from her eyelids.
She pinned her hair back, and began planning a paper on beast-men. Study of the natural sciences had long been her passion. But the habits of birds and woodland creatures paled in comparison to a beast that had once been human. Understanding was the best way to banish fear--therefore, how did a man become such a creature? What caused one man to become a bear, while another became a wolf? Did the rational man vanish beneath bestial instinct? What effect did it have upon his immortal soul?
A knock rang upon her bedroom door, interrupting her thoughts. Harriet's voice said, "Miss Jennie?"
"Yes?" Jennie stepped into her room, fumbling with a comb.
Harriet entered, flushed and excited. "If you please, miss, there's a grand lady to see you. Mrs. Charlotte Preston, of Halfmoon Manor."
Jennie's mouth fell open in a most un-ladylike fashion. Naturalist musings gave way to social terror. "But I'm not dressed for company!"
Harriet bustled to her wardrobe. "I can help you dress, ma'am. But hurry! She's very grand, is Lady Charlotte."
Jennie took that to mean that this Charlotte was too haughty to be kept waiting long. Her insides tried to curl up beneath her ribs. As Harriet unbuttoned her day dress, Jennie fumbled with her shoe laces. "What does she want?"
"She simply wished to speak to you. Arrived in a coach and four, she did!"
Between them, they buttoned Jennie into a handsome mauve velvet gown that she had never seen, but had appeared in her wardrobe. Several other new gowns awaited her, as well, but she lacked time to examine them. More goodwill from Oliver. If only he was here! He would know how to handle their caller. Jennie's upbringing had been on a quiet country manor with plenty of study time, but less opportunity for social graces. Still, she had been schooled by her governess, and numerous lessons had taught her how to walk, speak, and move about while hosting another.
At last, with a beating heart, she descended the stairs and entered the parlor.
Lady Charlotte Preston was a tall woman, made still taller by the mound of golden curls on her head. Her dress was green with gold silk trimming, but instead of a tightly-gathered waist, her dress flowed down her body and spread around her feet. For a second it seemed indecent. Then Jennie desperately wanted a dress like it.
Lady Charlotte had been gazing out the window, but turned as Jennie entered. Her face was young and beautiful, but her eyes held measured wariness.
Introductions were made. The women took seats near the window, where a cool breeze drifted in from the grounds. Jennie folded her hands in her lap and faced her visitor. "I'm honored at your visit, Lady Preston. I am but newly engaged to Mr. Gunnersen, and I'm not yet lady of Bramblewood."
"I see." Lady Preston nodded gravely. "I have been paying visits to the nobility in the area recently. My home is within Grayton, and it is lovely to travel abroad again."
Jennie's hands clenched until the knuckles showed white. Keeping her voice even, she said, "Grayton? Is it true that all living there bear the curse?"
Lady Charlotte sat very still. "It's true."
Jennie was sitting in Oliver's house, exchanging pleasantries with a wolf-woman. Should she run away? Call for the servants to bring her a gun? Both actions seemed hideously rude.
"Before you become too frightened," Lady Charlotte continued, "let me explain. Before the outbreak, my husband invented an elixir that modifies the curse. All who drink it retain their human minds after they have transformed."
There was a short silence as Jennie considered this. Her alarm abated somewhat, and she forced a smile. "So you haven't come to kill me."
"Heavens, no!" Lady Charlotte's eyes widened in shock. "Whatever gave you that impression?"
Jennie explained about the marauding wolves, and their attempts to extort Oliver.  Lady Charlotte listened with a bowed head, and her lips compressed into a thin line. When Jennie finished, Charlotte said, "That's why I'm here. We opened our gates because our nation faced starvation and economic collapse. During the early months of the curse, the mindless wolves slaughtered the majority of the livestock. The magical pushback against them resulted in ruined farmland and millions of gold worth of damaged property. So our leaders opened our gates. We are rebuilding our land, but much of our riches have flowed out of Grayton, into places like Woodsdale. Others grow rich as we wax poor. There is much thankfulness, but also some who resent it."
Jennie shook her head in sorrow. "I'm sorry. I had no idea the situation there was so bad."
Lady Charlotte smiled--a real smile. It showed the charming woman behind the social facade. "It is improving, and people have shown us much kindness, despite their fear. But there is a growing number of restless Graytons who have watched the wealth of their families drain away. They wish to restore it in any way possible. Some of these, I fear, are now threatening Mr. Gunnersen."
Again Jennie saw the wolf spring out of the undergrowth, white teeth flashing as it struggled with Oliver and bit his arm. "What must we do?"
Charlotte tilted her head in a slight shrug. "If they behave like marauding beasts, our king has ordered that they be treated as such. I am alerting the countryside that this is so."
"Thank you." Jennie didn't quite know how to follow that. Her apprehension was giving way to burning curiosity, but would it be unseemly to question her visitor?
Charlotte smiled. "Ask whatever you wish. I fear no questions."
"Well--" Jennie hesitated, then plunged in. "I am studying the natural sciences, and I have many questions about the wolves."
"Really now." Charlotte made herself more comfortable on the divan, amusement conjuring a dimple in one cheek. "I will answer to the best of my ability."
"How does the transformation work? Does your body actually change its structure?"
"Yes. It is unpleasant to watch and very painful. Over time, it becomes less so, but those who shift often, we are learning, develop skeletal deformities. One shape becomes like the other."
What of Oliver? Jennie wondered. Did his bear form harm his human body? But she could not ask Charlotte that. Intuition told her that Oliver wished his bear be kept secret.
"When you transform, do you know who you are?"
"Yes, for that is the grace given by the potion. A sane mind allows for speech, too, although the wolf throat and mouth are not properly shaped for it. Still, one can make herself understood if she must."
"Where did the curse come from?"
Charlotte's face clouded. "Many years ago, during the goblin invasion, our mages struggled to find any new magical weapon that would give us an edge. One excessively foolish man made a deal with a demon, who was happy to curse him with the wolf transformation. That is why we become wolf-like monsters--the demon could not grant a true shapeshift. Only a descent. His staff--" Charlotte broke off.
Jennie straightened. "Whose staff?"
Charlotte smoothed her dress. "Nothing. I misspoke." But a little pink rose in her cheeks, and Jennie wondered fervently what she had held back.
Shortly after that, Charlotte excused herself and departed. Jennie dashed to her rooms, procured a pen and her nature notebook, and began to write everything down.
She had only half finished when there came a thunder of footsteps on the stair, and a heavy knock on the door. Jennie rose and opened it.
Oliver stood there, panting, his shirt untucked and hair in disarray. "The house reeks of wolf. Are you unharmed?"
"Yes, yes! Come in."
He stepped into her room cautiously, as if treading upon holy ground, despite having must have been there quite often when preparing her quarters. "Jennie, you know better than to let one of those monsters in the house."
"Her name was Lady Charlotte of Halfmoon Manor," Jennie replied. "She is warning everyone of the dangerous wolves." She explained everything Charlotte had said. Oliver sank into a chair and slowly relaxed, head tilted back.
When she finished, Oliver sighed and closed his eyes. "I am glad to know that some of them retain their civility. Yet the three bullies returned to my office today."
"Oh no! What happened?"
"My solicitor was consulting with me at the time. My taxes have increased, but the cash twenty percent is false, as I believed it to be. The wolves became ... quite unpleasant."
Jennie gazed at her notebook. "Little wonder you panicked upon arriving home."
"I was concerned, yes," Oliver admitted. "I expect them to attempt their revenge tonight, therefore I must patrol the grounds." He gazed at her, and his eyes were fiercely blue. "No one will harm you, love."
She sat in a chair near him. "What if I was bitten? There is a potion that would let me retain my mind. I could run about the countryside with you."
"No!" He slammed both hands on the arms of the chair.
Jennie flinched.
Oliver lowered his voice. "My apologies. But you must not fall under the curse! The nature of the bear does not allow for other shifters in its territory. When I am transformed, any half-human beast is vermin, to be dispatched as quickly as possible. If you joined them--" He broke off and stared at the floor, anguish apparent in the stoop of his shoulders and the jut of his jaw.
Jennie laid a hand on his arm, carefully, hoping he would not explode. "Then you would have to drive me away."
"Yes." He laid one of his heavy hands over hers. "I value you too highly for that. Your friendship. Your love." His blue eyes softened. "Promise me you will not seek them out."
"I promise," she murmured. "But what if I am attacked and bitten?"
He sighed heavily. "The same result, I suppose. I cannot have another shifter in my household."
"What if I became a bear?"
He shook his head. "The bear is a family trait, passed by blood from father to son. I cannot turn you."
More information for her notebook. "If you encountered me while transformed, would you attack me?"
"Of course not, love." He smiled. "I know your scent, your face. Even in the midst of a rampage, I would not harm you." He sobered, slapped a hand on his knee and stood. "Now. Let's outfit you with a light firearm and give you some practice."