Beauty and the Immortal: It started with a dig - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Locked Graveyard
By the morning, the pouring rain from the night had stopped in Reavermoure town. It had left the ground wet and puddles filled with water, where water splashed when the wheels of the carriages moved over it.

One such carriage had come to a halt before the Winchester’s manor. It was Mr. Nottingham who had come to visit Colette, who now sat in the drawing room under Lady Doris’ supervision.

Elsewhere in the manor, Mallory had decided to step out to visit her parents’ graves, as it had been a while since she had last paid a visit to them. She turned to look outside the window and murmured,

“The clouds have begun to gather again.”

“Seems so, milady. An early rainy season,” Hattie agreed, helping Mallory dress.

Mallory shifted her gaze from the gloomy sky to Hattie and asked, “How are things going downstairs?”

“Mr. Nottingham has extended an invitation to Lady Colette, suggesting a tour of his orchard,” Hattie relayed. They stepped outside the room, and the maid walked behind Mallory. She whispered, “If you ask me, the man seems like he is going to propose to her at any moment.”

Mallory offered a small smile and said, “Colette will be over the moon.”

If her cousin had her way, she would have debuted last season. But Uncle Wilfred believed it was too soon, as he felt her cousin was immature. Lady Doris didn’t share the same thought and believed that he was pushing their daughter’s debut to give Mallory time, which had created a rift.

“And what about your own suitors, milady? Should we wait a little longer in case they show up?” Hattie asked, tailing right behind her.

“If the suitors are truly interested, I don’t think they would mind waiting for me to return,” Mallory responded. She held her head high as she walked through the corridors, even though she felt her chest tighten. But the truth was that her maid was just too kind to think someone would appear at the door for her. If people had to come, they would have by now, she thought.

Hattie informed her, “I shall fetch the umbrellas, lest the sky decides to weep upon us,” and she left Mallory’s side.

As Mallory made her way towards the manor’s entrance, she walked past the drawing room. With the door open, it gave her a glimpse of Mr. Nottingham lounged at one end of the plush couch. And when their gazes locked, his demeanour shifted from relaxed to rigid. Subconsciously, his hand moved to his nose as if to hide it.

Mallory grimaced inwardly, bowing slightly to the man before she and Hattie departed in the carriage. She looked outside the carriage’s window, watching trees move past them, such that it painted a canvas of continuous green.

Arriving, Mallory climbed out of the carriage, Hattie at her side with umbrellas in hand. The church’s walls had faded from white to beige. The entrance doors were left wide open for visitors. It had several stained windows with beautiful paintings on them. She remembered how much she enjoyed it during the summer when she used to visit it with her parents.

The graveyard was located not too far behind the church.

“Lady Mallory. It has been a while since you last visited us,” a voice greeted from the altar. The priest was in his late-thirties with brown hair and glasses. He offered a welcoming smile. Mallory and Hattie bowed at him.

“Father Shane,” Mallory acknowledged, her voice soft. “I apologise for my absence. How have you been?”

“Just the same as when you last saw me. Except for some occasional backaches. I seem to be growing old sooner than I expected,” Father Shane jested. “Though I must confess to you that I didn’t expect to see you today out of all the days, I hear it’s the season’s time. Did something happen there…?” His voice trailed off because he had heard about her last season’s encounter.

“Something always happens,” Mallory said with a hint of bitterness. It was because, even though she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, she was silenced, with men like George Kingsley getting away with it. The fault was with the world they lived in, she thought to herself.

“Perhaps you would like to talk about it?” Father Shane turned his head in the direction of the confession box.

“There’s nothing much to confess. I opened the door on George Kingsley, hoping to break his nose.” Mallory sighed, her eyes moving to the candles that were now burning brightly.

Father Shane looked around quickly, noticing it was just them. Hearing her dejection, he asked, “Are you regretful of your action?”

Mallory’s gaze returned to the priest before she whispered, “Not in the slightest. I wish I had slammed the door harder.” Hattie coughed at her words, turning around to make sure no one was listening to her lady, because if word reached, it could cause her ladyship trouble.

“…” Father Shane was left speechless. Fixing his expression, he said, “Violence is not the way to deal with things. Especially when you are dealing with a person whose family is four ranks above yours. It could be damaging,” he reminded her at the end.

“I understand,” Mallory murmured, and the truth left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Father Shane had known Mallory since her childhood and the tragic fire. He remembered her parents to be well-regarded figures in Reavermoure, though he had never conversed with them. He suspected her rare visits to the church stemmed from the horrors of the night when she lost them.

Mallory inhaled deeply, “Next time, I’ll handle things differently.”

“I hope in managing the situation and not in the strength of turning Mr. Kingsley noseless,” Father Shane hoped. He then stated, “You have a good heart, Lady Mallory. Good things come to the ones who deserve and earn them.”

After Father Shane was called away, Mallory slipped out of the church, leaving her praying maid behind, and made her way to the graveyard. The vast, leafless graveyard of Reavermoure, filled with uneven gravestones, stretched out before her.

As Mallory walked, a crow suddenly crossed her path, making her abruptly pause her footsteps and gasp softly. She saw the bird fly to one of the nearby trees before perching on it and looking at her.

Ignoring the bird, she headed in the direction of her parents’ graves. Upon reaching them, she noticed her parents’ graves were wet and clean because of the previous night’s rain. Memories of her last moments with them surfaced, and she clenched her fists as her breath shuddered.

“Forgive me for not visiting you both sooner…” Mallory’s voice broke the silence. “I have missed you both dearly.”

She didn’t know if her parents could hear her. In the days following their departure, her grandmother had become her solace, gently guiding her through the maze of loss.

Her grandmother would encourage her with a knowing smile. ‘You should talk to them, Mal. Even if they don’t reply, it’s important they don’t feel lonely.’

‘Are they really listening?’ Little Mallory asked while holding her grandmother’s hand.

‘Oh, yes. I’m certain they’re eager to hear all about your adventures,’ her grandmother reassured her with a smile. ‘You want them to know, don’t you?’

A smile flickered across Mallory’s face at the memory. Back then, her grandmother’s fanciful tales were a balm to her aching heart, offering brief comfort. As she finished talking to her parents’ graves, Hattie approached, stopping at a respectful distance away to wait.

“More than often, I find myself wishing that the past was nothing more than a prolonged dream from which I’ve yet to awaken,” Mallory said, who had heard Hattie’s footsteps on the wet ground. “And upon waking… they would be right there with me.”

Hattie could feel the sorrow in her lady’s voice. She attempted to comfort her, “Perhaps, in another realm beyond our reach, they continue to exist, milady. My mother used to say that those who depart from us become stars or the very air we breathe.”

“Something to look at… knowing they won’t be taken away from us,” Mallory mused with a tender smile on her lips. She took a deep breath, before letting it out. “Once I cried… too hard, wanting to see my parents, even though I knew I would never. My grandmother, bless her soul, suggested a whimsical search for their spirits here among these graves.”

“Lady Selia must have been an interesting person to be around,” Hattie stated, watching Mallory’s smile grow.

Mallory turned to meet Hattie’s eyes and remarked, “She was. She helped me stay intact, preventing me from losing myself. She was like a blanket. A warm person.” She had hoped for her grandmother to stay around forever, but time wasn’t anyone’s friend. Her grandmother had passed away when she was twelve years old.

Just as they were about to head back towards the church’s entrance, where their carriage awaited, Hattie sent a curious look towards the wide, rusted gates.

“It’s always under lock, isn’t it, milady? I can’t recall ever seeing it open,” she remarked softly, a hint of wonder in her voice.

“Indeed. That one is the older graveyard,” Mallory acknowledged, the crow’s caw echoing once more in the background. She then shared in a hushed tone,

“My grandmother used to tell me that in older times, treasures were hidden in these very graves, not just those of the royal blood. According to her, which is supposed to be a secret of the royals, within that very graveyard lies a square headstone, beneath which lies a weapon. It has a stone, which she described as blue as the night itself, which holds unfathomable power but is a curse at the same time.”

“Really??” Hattie gasped at the thought of a curse.

“Grandmother’s tales were vivid, perhaps too much so,” Mallory said. Her grandmother had such wild stories that sometimes it made her wonder if it was one of the reasons why Aunt Doris wasn’t too keen on inviting her to the manor.

At the same thought, she hadn’t forgotten last night, where the pendant had stopped glowing after a minute. It made her wonder if she was imagining things.

Hattie shook her head and looked in the opposite direction of the inner graveyard. She proposed, “Perhaps it’s time we headed back, milady.”

Mallory quietly laughed, knowing Hattie was scared at the mention of possible curses and ghosts. Despite the four-year gap between them, Mallory found great solace in Hattie’s company.

When they arrived back at the manor, Mallory found another carriage waiting not far from the entrance. It seemed like Colette was going to be busy today with the suitors vying for her attention.

Hattie excused herself from Mallory’s side, while the latter made her way through the corridor.

“Mallory!” Uncle Wilfred called out. “Where have you been?”

“At the church,” she answered, a crease forming between her brows. “Is everything alright?”

“Far better than alright. Do you recall our conversation from yesterday?” Uncle Wilfred asked, and just then, a series of footsteps echoed from the drawing room.

The person to whom the footsteps belonged finally stepped out of the room. It was a tall man with sandy blond hair and grey eyes. He wore a brown coat over his pristine white shirt.

“Baron Kaiser…” Mallory breathed out, her voice laced with surprise.

“Good afternoon, Lady Mallory,” the baron greeted, his voice smooth as he inclined in a respectful bow, a warm smile gracing his lips.

“Good afternoon,” she managed to respond, still taken aback.

Following closely behind the baron were Lady Doris and Colette. Her aunt revealed, “The Baron has come specifically to meet you, Mallory.”