3: Dining with a Beast

"You look like a princess, dear," Fiona stepped back so that Beth had a better view of herself in the full length mirror.

Beth's heart skipped when she looked over her reflection, barely recognizing the young lady who stared back. The gown she wore, though not cut in the latest fashion, was a rich emerald green that complimented her fair skin and rich brown curls. The skirt was full, the silk flaring slightly at the hips and reaching to the floor where the hem was stitched in an ornate pattern of golden ivy. The stitching continued up the skirt to the bodice, wrapping around it in a way that complimented her narrow waist.

The bodice was cut lower than the style that Beth was used to and was trimmed in black lace, and Beth couldn't help but feel self conscious about the amount of cleavage that it revealed. Yet Fiona assured her that it was not at all inappropriate, that it barely revealed anything at all, which relieved Beth somewhat.

Fiona had also managed to style Beth's unruly tresses in a way that added to her elegant appearance. Beth's hair was pulled back from her face, her dense curls pinned in the back with small onyx tipped hairpins that glimmered when she moved.

Beth touched her hair lightly, and couldn't help but wonder what Mr. Thorne would think when he saw her transformation. She wondered if perhaps he would smile when he laid eyes on her. She hoped he would, certain that he would be even more handsome if he would only smile.

"Are you sure I look alright?" Beth asked, turning to face Fiona. "Do you think perhaps the hair pins are too much?"

Fiona chuckled, taking Beth's hand and patting it reassuringly. "You're a beauty, dear girl. Outside and in. You look stunning."

Beth blushed, laughing when Fiona fussed over a few strands of hair that had managed to come loose around Beth's face.

"Good heavens, how quickly time goes by!" Fiona cried.

Beth followed the woman's gaze to the small clock on the mantle, realizing that it was nearly a quarter 'til eight.

"Oh dear," Beth said, certain that Mr. Thorne was not a man one kept waiting.

"Don't worry," Fiona laughed, opening the door for Beth. "One look at you and he won't care what time it is. Or what day it is for that matter."

Beth's stomach filled with butterflies, wondering if he would truly find her as beautiful as Fiona did.

"Thank you, Fiona," she said, and with a deep breath to calm her nerves, Beth headed towards the stairs.

As soon as Beth turned the corner she saw Mr. Thorne, leaning on the banister and staring down at his pocket watch, his eyebrows drawn together.

Mr. Thorne must have caught sight of her from the corner of his eye, because his head jerked up and he stared openly at Beth as she came down the stairs, her fingers trailing lightly over the banister as she went. She felt extremely self conscious as he perused her from head to toe and back again, an unreadable scowl still on his face. Her cheeks grew heated under his gaze, his seeming appreciation for how she looked causing her heartbeat to quicken.

She noticed that Mr. Thorne had also dressed for dinner, and she found that like him, she couldn't keep from staring. He wore a dark blue double breasted coat with a light brown embroidered cravat, black trousers and black leather riding boots.

As Beth made her way down the last few steps, she turned over in her mind the best way to go about telling him how nice he looked, hoping that she would even be able to speak considering that her mouth had gone completely dry, she was so nervous.

When Beth finally stood before him, she all but held her breath as she anticipated what he might have to say about her transformation. The silence seemed to stretch on forever before Mr. Thorne finally spoke.

"You're late," he snapped, and with those two words Beth's heart sank.

"I-I�"" Beth stammered, not knowing what to say.

She had been so excited about the evening, feeling refreshed after her bath and her rest. The whole day she had planned on what she wanted to talk with him about, eager to discuss some of what she had read about science and medicine. She felt silly now for imagining that once Mr. Thorne saw that they shared some common interests he would speak to her more kindly, that he would extend to her a certain degree of civility. When she met his steady gaze she saw no kindness there, only a look of annoyance that seemed reserved especially for her.

"Never mind," Mr. Thorne muttered, offering her his arm.

Beth hesitated, and in response Mr. Thorne cast her a warning glare, which only fuelled her own frustration. She was certainly not going to spend the evening with someone who didn't want anything to do with her.

"Please forgive me, Mr. Thorne," Beth said as evenly as she could. "I seem to have lost my appetite, and I think it would be best if I retire for the evening."

She turned towards the stairs, not wanting him to see the hurt in her eyes. She no longer felt like an elegant lady, but rather a foolish girl who was playing dress up. All she wanted to do was get out of the ridiculous frock and curl up in front of the fireplace with one of her books. Perhaps Fiona would be kind enough to make her a small plate of food for later.

Before Beth's foot even landed on the first step, Mr. Thorne grabbed her elbow and pulled her along beside him towards a set of high double doors.

"Mr. Thorne!" Beth gasped, trying to pull her arm free. "Sir, this is most inappropriate. You will unhand me this instant!"

She gave her foot a little stomp for emphasis, and Mr. Thorne cast her an amused look, the closest thing to a smile she had seen on his face since she met him.

"As I understand it, Mrs. Gibbs has prepared quite a feast for us this evening," Mr. Thorne said, loosening his hold on her arm. "You wouldn't want to hurt her feelings by retiring without even having a taste, would you?"

Beth glared up at him, but he only smirked. Beth didn't like the way that he was trying to manipulate her, but she also knew that he was right. Fiona was a sweet woman who had no doubt gone to great lengths to create a perfect meal for them, and Beth certainly didn't want to insult the woman.

Mr. Thorne offered Beth his arm once more, and she reluctantly tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, allowing him to lead her the short distance to the double doors.

Beth gasped when they stepped through the doors and into the large dining hall. It was massive, a long room that stretched far in either direction. Down the center of the room was a large oak table, candlesticks evenly placed down its length.

Mr. Thorne led Beth towards the end of the table nearest the large fireplace, where two place settings had been laid out. He pulled the high backed chair out for her and she took her seat with a murmured thank you, too in awe of her surroundings to form words.
Mr. Thorne took his seat at the head of the table to her right, then reached for the wine bottle before them and filled her glass, after which he filled his.

Fiona burst through a door in the corner near the fireplace, a large soup tureen in her hands.

"Good evening, dears," she breathed, setting the tureen on the table with a little grunt.

"Mrs. Gibbs," Mr. Thorne said with a slight nod. "What have you fixed for us?"

"It smells wonderful," Beth said when Fiona lifted the lid and dipped her ladle into the steaming soup.

"It's a potato soup," Fiona said proudly, serving Beth a large portion. "My mother's recipe, as a matter of fact."

Fiona served Mr. Thorne, and then took a step back beaming as she watched the two of them. "What a handsome portrait the two of you make, so regal and elegant. If only I was skilled with a paintbrush! I would love to commit this image to canvas forever."

Mr. Thorne's lips thinned as he cast a sideways glance at Fiona, clearly embarrassed. Beth suppressed a giggle on the back of her hand, relieved that Fiona had managed to clear some of the tension in the air.  

"That will be all, thank you Mrs. Gibbs," Mr. Thorne muttered.

Fiona chuckled, giving Mr. Thorne a slight nod before lifting the tureen and ambling back through the door from which she came.

Mr. Thorne focused on his soup and so Beth did the same, wishing that Fiona would return so that there would at least be a chance of cheerful conversation.

Mr. Thorne cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, his brow drawn as though he was considering something.

"You look very nice," he mumbled, absently straightening the silverware on the table before him.

"Truly?" Beth murmured, startled by his unexpected compliment. She smiled shyly when his gaze flickered to hers. "Thank you, sir."

Beth toyed with the lace along her neckline absently, trying to decide what else she should say, heat rising in her cheeks when she realized that her action had drawn Mr. Thorne's attention to her bust line. Beth quickly placed her hands in her lap to keep herself from fidgeting, hoping that she hadn't made a fool of herself.

"You look very nice as well, Mr. Thorne," Beth blurted before she could stop herself. He frowned at her, and she could only imagine what he was thinking after such an inadequate compliment. "What I mean to say, sir, is that you look very hands�"I mean your suit is quite…that is to say, I think�""

Beth pressed her lips together before she could make herself look any more ridiculous, her cheeks heating when she saw that Mr. Thorne was staring at her as though she was the strangest woman he had ever met.

"This soup is wonderful, isn't it?" Beth said anxiously, hoping to change the subject. She lifted her spoon to her lips, hoping that Mr. Thorne didn't notice how her fingers trembled. "I must be sure and ask Mrs. Gibbs for her recipe."

~~~

Garrett was in trouble, and he knew it.

Not only was Miss Townsend a beauty, but she also had a sweet charm about her that was so genuine, so pure, Garrett felt unworthy of her company. Her shy attempt at complimenting him had made his heart pound, and he couldn't deny that seeing how nervous he made her filled him with a raw desire unlike anything he had ever known.

"Mrs. Gibbs mentioned that you have a laboratory, Mr. Thorne," Miss Townsend said, bringing Garrett back to reality. "She says that you went to medical school and have a very keen understanding of the sciences."

Garrett suspicion rose as he watched Miss Townsend, certain of where the conversation would lead. "Mrs. Gibbs gives me far more credit than I deserve, I'm sure. I trust that she explained that you are not to stray to the west wing?"

Miss Townsend nodded. "Yes, sir, she made that point quite clear. Although�"" She nibbled her bottom lip, glancing down at her hands where they rested primly on the edge of the table. "I myself have a certain…curiosity about the sciences. And while I am sure my understanding of the subject pales in comparison to yours, I would certainly enjoy seeing a real, working laboratory. Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me a tour some time during my stay?"

Garrett frowned when he saw how hopeful she looked, how her eyes lit up as she anticipated his answer. He knew that she would make this request the moment she mentioned the laboratory, but he hadn't realized how difficult it would be to tell her no�"especially when she was looking at him like that.

"I assure you I won't touch anything," she added hopefully, her lovely brown eyes meeting his for the hundredth time that night.

Garrett tugged awkwardly at his cravat, looking anywhere but those eyes that always seemed to be on his face. Was the room suddenly warmer? His cheeks felt aflame at her constant attention, and he rubbed his damp palms on his trousers, not liking the affect that Miss Townsend had on his senses. If she continued to look so enticingly innocent, Garrett didn't know what he might do. Wasn't she aware of what she was doing to him, just by being her?

"I'm afraid it's out of the question," Garrett said finally, waving his hand.
The light faded from Miss Townsend's eyes and her shoulders slumped slightly, but Garrett knew it was for the best.

After all, how would he explain the large cell in the corner of his laboratory made entirely of silver, or the strange texts on werewolves and gypsy lore scattered along his table with his medical and science books?

"I see," Miss Townsend said slowly. "May I ask why?"

"You may go anywhere else that you wish, Miss Townsend," Garrett said, somewhat severely. He didn't like having to explain himself, especially when he was lying to the most sincere woman he had ever met. "I like my privacy, Miss Townsend, and I have grown accustomed to it over the years. It is as simple as that."

"Mrs. Gibbs or yourself could have simply said that," Miss Townsend said, quirking her eyebrow. "So I must ask, why did she say forbidden? It seems a strong word to use when someone merely wants to keep a guest from wandering into their private rooms. Is there something else about the west wing that made you forbid me to go there, Mr. Thorne?"

Clever girl, Garrett thought. Perhaps too clever for her own good.

He could feel the beast within him pushing forward as his frustration over Miss Townsend's valid questions grew. Garrett clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, trying to push back the evil within him before it could cause any harm�"before it broke free entirely.

In the early years after Garrett had been cursed, he only had to contend with the monster when the full moon rose. But as his anger over his situation grew, and the more he tried to fight what he was, the harder the beast would fight to break free. And Garrett was all too aware that the beast was winning.

"Are you alright, Mr. Thorne?" Miss Townsend asked, placing her hand on the table nearest him.

Garrett met her concerned gaze and scowled. "I'm quite well," He grated. "Though I grow weary of your questions."

Miss Townsend blushed, her small elegant hand resting on the table so close to him that he wanted to take it into his own, to kiss the soft skin and see her pretty eyes widen at his boldness.

"Of course," Miss Townsend said apologetically. "I didn't mean to intrude. I'm a curious person by nature, I suppose." Her smile widened. "It seems that I have read far too many gothic novels, Mr. Thorne. And the added effect of spending my first night in a castle has made my imagination run wild."

Garrett raised his eyebrows as he watched Miss Townsend, amazed not only by her lighthearted nature, but also by how honest she was. She barely knew him and yet she felt comfortable enough to share her feelings with him?  She trusted that he wouldn't judge her for having such naïve, girlish ideas?
It warmed him to the very depths of his soul to see her wide smile, and the way her eyes lit up when they met his�"even though he couldn't manage a smile in return.  Garrett couldn't allow himself to enjoy the pleasure that her company brought, hell, the pleasure that just being near her brought.

And why shouldn't I enjoy her company? Why shouldn't I strive to make her mine?

Garrett shook his head at the turn his thoughts had taken. He never should have agreed to have dinner with the young beauty, he should have locked himself in his laboratory and said to hell with what anyone else wanted. Miss Townsend was filling his head with foolish notions of what could be, and he was coming dangerously close to acting on those notions.  

~~~

Beth couldn't tear her eyes away from Mr. Thorne. He was looking at her in the most peculiar way�"with a mixture of frustration, and to her surprise, longing. She pulled her hand slowly from where it rested on the table and placed it in her lap, clutching her hands together tightly to keep them from trembling.

Mr. Thorne was more than he seemed, of that she was certain. Beth also knew that there was something in the west wing that he didn't want her to see, for why else would he become so aggravated by her questions?

Beth had decided to let the subject drop, amazed that she had picked up on Mr. Thorne's moods so quickly. Although it hadn't been very difficult�"he seemed to go from irritated to angry and back again, clearly unaware that happiness would be a very nice holiday from his normal disposition.

I will make it my task to put a smile on that man's face at least once during my stay, Beth decided with a small smile, glancing at Mr. Thorne.

Her smile faded when she saw that he was still staring at her in the strangest manner, as though he was trying to decide something. His eyes were dark and menacing as they scanned her face and down her neck, making her cheeks heat when they settled on the low cut of her gown for a second too long before travelling to her face once more.

"I trust that you find your accommodations to your liking," Mr. Thorne said, his voice low.

"Very much so, Mr. Thorne." Beth swallowed, hoping that he didn't catch on to how flustered he was making her. "I can't thank you enough for your kindness."

Mr. Thorne tore his gaze from her and smirked, lifting his wineglass to his lips and emptying its contents, reaching for the wine bottle and filling his cup to the brim once more.

"It was no kindness on my part, Miss Townsend. If Mr. Gibbs hadn't shown up I most certainly would have left you out there to die. Isn't that right?"

Beth shook her head, guilt coiling in her belly. "I do apologize for what I said, Mr. Thorne. It was terrible of me to say such a thing. I just�""

"Saw my face and made the natural assumption that I would leave a helpless woman and an elderly man to die of exposure?" Mr. Thorne sneered, sitting up abruptly and slamming his glass down with a force that made Beth jump.

Mr. Thorne leaned one arm on the table, his hard gaze fixed on Beth. She leaned back in her chair, and for the first time since the carriage accident, she was frightened�"frightened of Mr. Thorne and his volatile temper which seemed to ebb and flow like the tide. One moment he seemed perfectly agreeable, making her feel as though he desired her�" and in an instant he would grow furious. And that fury, it seemed, was reserved especially for her.

"There's no point denying the disgust you feel towards me, Miss Townsend," Mr. Thorne said angrily, and for the briefest of moments Beth saw a hurt in his eyes that tugged at her heart. "I assure you I am quite used to it."

Beth frowned, placing her hands in her lap. "You don't disgust me," Beth murmured, unable to keep her gaze from drifting to the scar on his cheek.

Mr. Thorne glared at her, but his features softened when his eyes met hers, and Beth hoped that he could see that she was telling the truth. If she was bolder, Beth would have told him that her feelings towards him were unlike any she had felt before. It was an attraction unlike anything she had ever known, and it made no sense to her since she had just met him that morning. Yet she knew he didn't feel the same draw towards her, certainly not with the way he kept snapping at her.

Mr. Thorne ran his fingers over the scar on his cheek absently, his brows drawn together. She wanted to lean across the table and place her hand over the blemish, if only to use it as an excuse to be closer to Mr. Thorne.

What has come over me? Beth thought. I don't even know him!

"How did it happen?" Beth murmured, nibbling her bottom lip.  

Mr. Thorne didn't answer, only continued to trace the scar with his finger, following it along down his cheek and across his lips, his eyes haunted as he recalled some distant memory. His hand dropped to the table with a thud which rattled the silverware and china.

Beth placed her hand on the table near his, shaking her head remorsefully for drudging up what was clearly a painful memory for Mr. Thorne. "I'm sorry, Mr. Thorne. It really isn't any of my business. I only wanted to�""

"No, it isn't any of your business, is it?" Mr. Thorne snapped. "You're a guest, Miss Townsend. Though unwelcome and unwanted, you are here to stay. You will have shelter and food, and in return you will remember that you are in my home, and you will speak to me as such. You will keep your opinions to yourself, and you will not bore me with your questions. Is that clear?"

Beth could only stare as Mr. Thorne let out a shaky breath, and she could see that he was barely keeping his anger at bay. How could her simple question induce such fury within him? She had thought it an important question to ask, especially since Mr. Thorne had such a stigma about his scar. Yet her innocent question, asked out of genuine concern and interest, had revealed just how Mr. Thorne felt about her. He thought she was nothing, that she wasn't anyone worth getting to know or even conversing with, if only to pass the time.

Beth sighed, blinking back the tears burning behind her lids. No one had ever spoken to her the way that Mr. Thorne had, and no one had ever confused her as much as he did either. One moment he was eyeing her as though he found her beautiful, as though he found her appealing�"and the next he was behaving as though she wasn't fit to be in the same room with him.

Now that Mr. Thorne had made his true feelings clear, Beth saw no point in continuing on with any degree of civility. After all, since he already thought so little of her, it seemed unlikely that anything she might say or do could make his opinion of her any less.

"You have made yourself perfectly clear, sir, I assure you. But I must confess that I find it odd that you presume that you disgust me," Beth said, unable to mask the hurt in her voice."When clearly it is I who disgust you. You feel that I have upset your life greatly, isn't that so? My very presence seems to incite a feral rage within you. Why, I'm amazed that you are even allowing me to stay in your home, nuisance that I am. Surely there are servant's quarters that would be more suitable, then you wouldn't have to fear seeing me at all. Or perhaps you should have told Mr. Gibbs to situate me in the barn. I'm sure the hay loft would do quite nicely for someone as troublesome as I."

Mr. Thorne's lips parted, and the shocked look on his face made Beth feel somewhat better. She was also pleased to see something on his face besides that scowl he wore so well.

"Miss Townsend, you will remember�""

"Remember what, Mr. Thorne?" Beth said, her heart pounding. "Remember who I am speaking to? Remember my place? I see no point in being civilized with you when you find it perfectly acceptable to speak to me like some savage beast."

"That's quite enough, Miss Townsend," Mr. Thorne muttered, gritting his teeth.
Beth let out a frustrated sigh then glanced at Mr. Thorne. "I don't know why you find it necessary to speak so cruelly to me. I can't understand why you would even subject yourself to my company voluntarily when it is clear that my very presence irritates you. I must ask, why is it that you invited me to join you for dinner? Were you eager for an opportunity to insult me before the day was out? Do you take pleasure in hurting me?"

Beth's heart pounded in her ears, and she could scarcely believe the way she was speaking to Mr. Thorne. She had behaved like the nuisance that Mr. Thorne imagined her to be, and the disappointment that realization brought, stung.

"This was a mistake," Beth said, shaking her head. Her hands were trembling as she pushed away from the table and stood, the sudden movement causing a lock of hair to come free of its pins, the brunette waves framing her face. "I think it would be best if I took my meals elsewhere, Mr. Thorne. I would like to thank you again for your hospitality, but it seems I bring out the worst in you. I would prefer to keep my distance from you during the remainder of my unwelcome and unwanted stay, as you so eloquently put it."

Beth turned to flee before she said something else that made her look even more childish, hoping that she could escape with at least a small piece of her dignity intact.

But that didn't seem likely when she felt Mr. Thorne's warm hand wrap around her wrist, and she couldn't suppress a shiver when she turned and met his icy gaze. It seemed that Mr. Thorne wasn't going to let her get away so easily.

~~~

Garrett was consumed by a rising panic when he realized how terribly he had managed to damage Miss Townsend's opinion of him. Not only had he insulted the young lady, but he had managed to frighten her, and make her feel as though she was nothing. Any chance he might have had with her was ruined, and that unwelcome realization felt like a knife being twisted in Garrett's chest.

This is what I wanted isn't it? Garrett asked himself. I wanted to push her away and now I have…but I never wanted to hurt her, d****t!

"Remove your hand please, Mr. Thorne," Miss Townsend said, her voice firm.

Though she was trying to be brave, Garrett could smell her rising fear, and he hated that he was the cause of it. He could see it in her eyes that he had hurt her, and he could feel her arm trembling where he held her. Garrett could even feel her heartbeat quicken beneath her skin where his thumb pressed against her wrist, and he hoped that it was because of his nearness to her, and not because she was afraid.

"Sit down, Miss Townsend," Garrett said.

Miss Townsend let out a shaky breath and tried to pull her arm free, but he refused to let her go.

"I said sit down," Garrett said. He tried to gentle his tone, but to his own ears his voice sounded gravelly. "Do not make me ask again, Miss Townsend."

She hesitated only a moment longer, then sat down slowly in her chair, unwilling to look at him. A thick brown curl brushed her cheek, and Garrett wanted desperately to lean across the table and tuck the loose curl behind her ear.

"Listen to me, Miss Townsend," Garrett said, not sure where to begin. "I know that�""

"I must apologize for what I said," Beth interrupted, her tone sincere. "I should never have spoken to you that way. It was very inappropriate and extremely rude."

Garrett's eyes narrowed. She was apologizing to him? He had behaved far worse than Miss Townsend ever could, yet she was apologizing for merely speaking the truth? He didn't understand it, but he found his heart softening for Miss Townsend even more.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Miss Townsend." Garrett ran his thumb along the inside of her wrist, pleased when he felt her heartbeat quicken and saw how her cheeks took on a lovely shade of pink.

What am I doing?   Garrett scolded. She hates and fears me, just like I wanted. So why am I trying to find ways to get close to her?

Garrett released his hold on her, his hand and heart feeling cold after losing the contact with her soft skin.

"My father would be so disappointed if he knew I had spoken to a gentleman in such a manner," Miss Townsend said sadly, tucking the lock of hair Garrett desperately wanted to touch behind her ear.

"I haven't behaved like much of a gentleman," Garrett muttered. "Which is why I must apologize for my brash words, they were cruel and uncalled for and…untrue."

"Thank you, Mr. Thorne," Miss Townsend said, but Garrett could see from the way that she watched him that she didn't trust his words, looking as though she were bracing herself for some cruel last remark.

It seems the damage has already been done, Garrett thought. Isn't that what I wanted?

"I must agree that this was a mistake, Miss Townsend," Garrett said, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. "I am not a pleasant host and have far too much on my mind to contend with idle dinner chatter."

"I see," Miss Townsend murmured, tilting her head up to look at him, the firelight glowing on the smooth planes of her face and neck.

"I've managed to insult you again, haven't I?" Garrett muttered, scrubbing his hand down his face. "What I meant was that I have several formulas I am working on that demand all of my attention. So the reason I am such unpleasant company is because my thoughts are elsewhere."

He hated lying to her, but he certainly couldn't tell her the truth.

"It's no excuse for my behavior," Garrett sighed. "But there you have it. I assure you that you will not be subjected to another dinner such as this, Miss Townsend. You may dine elsewhere in the future."

Garrett bowed slightly and turned to leave, then hesitated. There was something he wanted to do, something he had to do, before he broke off whatever he had wanted to form with Miss Townsend.

I may never have this chance again.

Garrett turned towards Miss Townsend and lifted her hand gently to his lips. Her eyes widened as they met his, and he grazed his lips lightly over her knuckles, running his thumb softly over her fingers.

"I bid you good evening, Miss Townsend," Garrett murmured, his lips just inches from her hand.

"Good evening, Mr. Thorne," Miss Townsend breathed.

Garrett released her hand before he did something foolish, like lift Miss Townsend from her seat and into his arms, putting that kiss where he really wanted to.

Mrs. Gibbs came through the side door with a tray of steaming food, and when she spotted Garrett leaving she cast him a disapproving frown.

"Where on earth is he going?" Garrett heard Mrs. Gibbs cry.

"I don't know," Miss Townsend murmured. "But I have never met a more confounding man."

~~~

Beth stared down at the book spread open in her lap, reading over the same sentence for at least the tenth time that night. She snapped the book closed and placed it on the table beside her, pulling the blanket tightly around her shoulders.

She hadn't been able to concentrate on anything since her rather eventful dinner with Mr. Thorne. Yet it wasn't their conversation that kept running through Beth's mind, it was the feel of Mr. Thorne's soft lips pressed against the sensitive skin of her hand, and the look in his eyes when they locked with hers.

Just thinking about it made Beth shiver, and she ran her fingers lightly over her knuckles where Mr. Thorne's lips had been.

Don't be daft, She scolded. It was a simple gesture that meant nothing!

So then why had he looked at her as though the act had been far more…intimate?

I must have imagined it, that's the only explanation that makes sense.

A feral roar echoed through the night, making Beth jump up from her chair.

Beth inched towards her bedroom door, clutching her blanket around her shoulders as her fingers wrapped around the door handle.

She pulled the door open carefully, peering out into the dark hallway. The strange roar cut through the silence once more, and Beth had the childish urge to run to her bed and pull the sheets up under her chin, just as she had done as a child after a particularly bad dream. Instead, she took a deep breath and stepped into the hall, the floor cold beneath her bare feet.

Beth glanced to the left and right but could see nothing in the inky blackness, just as the fierce roar sounded down the hall at her left.

The west wing.

Beth's heart pounded and she licked her lips, knowing that she would be in a great deal of trouble if she were caught. She walked cautiously down the hall, resting her hand on the wall to keep herself steady in the darkness, wishing that she had grabbed the candle by her bed before deciding to go any further.

She heard a sound behind her, and turned back towards the direction from which she had come, but was greeted by only darkness.

"Hello?" Beth whispered. "Is someone there? Mrs. Gibbs? Mr. Thorne?"

She waited for several moments and listened, certain that if anyone had answered her quiet call she wouldn't have heard it over the pounding of her heart.

She turned back towards the west wing and nearly screamed when she came face to face with Mr. Thorne, candlestick in hand. His face was a mask of fury as he gazed down at her, but she also noticed how exhausted he looked, his face drawn and his eyes bloodshot. His skin was beaded with sweat, his hair a tangle which hung loosely around his face. Beth frowned when she noticed that Mr. Thorne's chin and cheekbones seemed more pronounced, but she decided that it had to be an effect created by the dim candlelight.

"Where do you think you're going, Miss Townsend?" Mr. Thorne demanded.

"I-I�"I heard a noise," Beth said softly. "Some sort of howling�"screaming."

"Probably an animal outside," Mr. Thorne said, his tone indicating that there was no room for argument.

"Perhaps," Beth said, knowing that she shouldn't question him, but unable to keep herself from doing so. "But I am certain that it came from inside the house. It sounded almost…human."

Mr. Thorne glared at her and took a step forward. "You are mistaken, Miss Townsend."

Beth gasped when she looked into his eyes and saw that they were silver. "Your eyes," she breathed.

He glanced away quickly and took a step back, keeping his eyes averted from hers.

"A trick of the light, I'm sure." He said grimly. "You should get back to your room, Miss Townsend."

"But the noises I heard�"" she argued, but was cut short when Fiona came up behind her.

"Sound tends to carry out here, dear," Fiona said kindly, patting Beth's arm lightly. "You get used to it over time."

"I was just coming to get you, Mrs. Gibbs," Mr. Thorne said, gritting his teeth.

Beth could see that he was in pain, and she stepped towards him to see if he was alright, if there was anything she could do to help him.

"Good evening, Miss Townsend," Mr. Thorne growled, stepping away from her.

Beth dropped her hand and looked questioningly to Fiona who gave a gentle nod.

"Off to bed with you, dear," She said turning Beth and walking her a short way down the hall.

"Is he alright?" Beth whispered, looking over her shoulder to see Mr. Thorne staring at her.

"Of course dear," Fiona said. "He's just been a bit ill these past few days is all. He should be right as rain in no time."

"Is there anything I can do?" Beth asked. She was not unfamiliar with sickness. She had, in fact, seen a dear friend of hers through a terrible fever not two years before.

"Don't you worry about a thing, dear," Fiona said kindly. "Mr. Thorne is in good hands."

"Alright," Beth said as she watched the old woman hurry down the hall and take Mr. Thorne by the arm, leading him down the hall before they were swallowed up by darkness.

Beth walked slowly to her bedroom door, dozens of questions running through her mind�"such as why Mr. Thorne had lied to her about the noises. She knew she had heard them coming from the west wing moments before he appeared, so why was he denying it?

Perhaps it was him screaming like that.

Beth pushed the thought aside, certain that what she had heard couldn't possibly have been Mr. Thorne. The sound had been far more animal than human, she was sure of it.

Beth also wondered why Fiona had suddenly appeared, as though she too had been seeking out the source of the sound. So then why did she insist that the sounds had come from outside? And why didn't she seem surprised to find Mr. Thorne in such a state? Beth had a feeling that the answers to her questions lay hidden behind one of the doors in the west wing.

Beth closed her bedroom door softly behind her and climbed into bed, doubting that she would be able to sleep after the strange events of the evening. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Mr. Thorne's silver eyes boring into hers, his sharp features elongating before her eyes. Beth turned onto her side, trying to push the strange image out of her mind, telling herself that the color of his eyes and the changes in his face had only been a trick of the light, just as Mr. Thorne had said.

But when sleep finally overcame her, she wasn't so sure.

That night, Beth dreamt of wolves.

Author's Note

Please let me know of any grammar or spelling mistakes, and thank you for reading!