The White Estate

December had wrought a fierce winter upon the town. Victoria had lingered in the sitting room most of the day, watching the grey sky as it littered snowflakes across her lawn. She had neglected her duties, to her own shame, as she sank into a mood darker than the clouds above her, for today was a grave day; a reminder that she was still alone, unwed, and bitter. A disappointment not only to her parents, who desperately wished for her to embark upon the next stage of her life's journey, but also to herself. She wished to remove herself from this manor, whose walls reminded her of entrapment, whose fields swept long and unending, like the depression that had taken her in her younger years.

Today she would meet her cousins betrothed, and there was to be a celebration, though she felt no elation. She lay still, waiting for time to pass, until the sky settled into an illuminated vision of stars, and the full moon hung low, unobstructed by the dithering snow that drifted lazily from the clouds.

Her father beckoned her into the hallway as her Aunt Dorothy's carriage pulled in front of the manor doors. Victoria embraced her, for it had been far too long since their last meeting. Dorothy smelled strongly of the wind, yet her familiar lavender perfume seeped delicately through the fabric of her overcoat. ‘My dear,’ she all but whispered, ‘it has been too long.’

‘That it has, Aunty.’

Dorothy clasped Mr. Browning's hand in her own as one of the waiting ladies took her cloak ‘Bless you, dear brother.’

Her mother, Eleanor, pulled Dorothy to the side, and tentatively said, ‘I must ask, Dorothy. How are you keeping?’ It had been almost a year since Uncle James had died, and the grief had settled unkindly upon Dorothy’s once kind face.

‘It has been hard. Harder and harder with every passing day, but Agatha has kept the will of life within me. A wedding, oh, how a grand wedding has kept my mind busy. William is a marvelous young man, you must meet him at once!’ Her smile, though forced, elated Eleanor; tonight, was not a night for mourning, but one for celebration. 'He has brought a guest with him, as you know. A fine young man, I hope you'll agree.'

Her cousin, Agatha, burst into the room, a radiant woman in red. Her curls bounced as she greeted them, taking one of the men behind her by the arm. She thrust him before her, showing off her prize as though he were the finest gold. Her smile was infectious. ‘This is my betrothed,’ she sang, striking a glance at Victoria, who hid her fierce jealousy behind her courteous grin. ‘William, do introduce yourself!’

William stood before the family, a vision of confidence, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you all.’

Victoria found herself unable to concentrate, her response kept short as she glanced at the man who stood a pace behind their crowd. A dashing man strode into the hall. His dark hair lay windswept against his pale face, but his eyes, so beautifully blue, dazzled with confidence. He was enchanting up close, an air of mystery hanging from his handsome features. She had never met a man before who even in a room of strangers did not feel foreign. He held himself with pride, and though he had not yet introduced himself, Victoria wanted to know more. She wished she had made more of an effort. Why had no one mentioned his coming?

Mr. Browning had noticed him too, but unlike his daughter, did not dither under such a piercing gaze. ‘And you must be our esteemed seventh guest.’ He extended his hand. ‘Charles Browning.’

The man shook his hand. ‘Arthur White. I must thank you for your hospitality, it is an honour to meet with you all.’

‘Oh, we have so much more to tell you!’ Agatha swept the party from the entrance hall to the dining room, a more pleasant venue, Victoria thought. Her feet were beginning to ache.

She caught her mothers’ hand. 'Why did you not tell me we would be hosting a stranger?'

'Because you worry so under new company. Come now, love, and do welcome our guest warmly.'

'But who is he, mother? Why has been allowed at such a private affair?' Many times, her mother had thrown eligible bachelors at her, and many times it had ended in both failure, and more heartache than she was willing to admit. But to invite a stranger to their home was a step too far for Victoria’s liking.

'It was Dorothy's idea. Arthur is a friend of William, and he has just inherited the White estate after his uncle's tragic passing. She thought it would be good for him to meet us all.' She lay a hand on Victoria's shoulder. 'There is no need to fret, dear. Make his acquaintance. It must be so lonely for him to move here, with no one to rely on.’

She knew her mother's motives but also knew there was no point in arguing. He was already here, after all. Begrudgingly, Victoria dropped the conversation and joined the rest of their guests by the fire.

The evening passed with polite conversation, merry drink, and dazzling food. Arthur delighted with tales of his travels, whilst Agatha spoke of nothing more than her approaching wedding. Victoria kept herself quiet, yet observant, as she sipped at her wine. She could not grasp a clear picture of Arthur. She learned that he and William were in the business of exotic wares, and that they both often travelled together to find and import stock. That must have been what swayed Agatha – the promise of fine silks and jewels had drawn her in like the magpie she was.

‘I’m having a gathering at my estate this weekend and would be humbled for you all to attend,’ Arthur addressed the table, though his eyes lay upon Victoria. She noticed his teeth, far sharper, far whiter, than any man she’d met before.

‘Yes, it would be lovely to see inside the manor,’ she found herself saying, though she was unsure whether she was completely in control; her mouth moved without permission, and her speech was most out of character. ‘An elusive landmark. Your uncle did not care for many guests.’

‘Victoria!’ her mother chastised, 'I do apologise, such a great loss you have suffered.’

Arthur laughed, ‘It is quite alright, young Victoria is correct. My uncle was most unsocial. My inheritance was the first I’d seen of his home myself. Why, I only found myself with it because he remained childless. He was not a family man.’

‘And yourself, Mr White?’ Victoria asked, ‘would you consider yourself a family man?’

‘Victoria!’ Mrs Browning repeated, but Victoria did not listen.

‘To have a woman as beautiful as you,’ he grinned, ‘is my only wish.’

Victoria said nothing. She could not find the words. Such brash flirtation was something she was unused to. She agreed with her mother, perhaps she should keep her mouth closed.

The night soon led to farewells and promises of frequent returns. Victoria found herself alone in the drawing room, her face buried beneath a book, though her eyes did not follow the words. Arthur had fallen into her thoughts, and though she begged herself not to, her daydreams betrayed how she felt. She could not keep him off of her mind. She awaited their next meeting impatiently.

---

She did not have to wait for long; Arthur seemed to appear wherever she went. Book shops, grocery stalls, even quaint walks through the park, he acted as her shadow, and yet it took until their fourth meeting for him to approach her directly.

'We seem to have the fortune of frequenting the same places, Miss Browning.'

'Please, call me Victoria.' She watched as the snow tickled the tips of his hair, still radiant even when the wind tousled it so. 'I was worried you did not wish to speak with me.'

'Quite the opposite. I did not know if you wished me to. You seemed uninterested after speaking to me at your home; I didn't want to bother you.' He smiled at her embarrassment, yet she wore it with no shame.

She didn't want to give him the wrong idea. Perhaps it was finally her time to find romance? 'Please, Arthur. Bother away.'

'Shall we?' He held out his arm, which she clutched onto, and they walked together. He kept their course beneath the shadows of the overhanging trees, private and faraway from the crowds. She could feel the chill of his skin beneath his overcoat, and worried that she was keeping him from warmth, but he seemed unbothered, or perhaps he hadn't noticed. She too ignored the chill that bit at her nose, and focused instead on appearing interesting, just as her mother had taught.

Amidst the exchanged Arthur took charge and changed the pace of the conversation entirely, asking out of the blue, 'Victoria, how grand would it be to live forever?’

The question caught her off guard, and so she answered honestly, 'In a life so dismal? I could not bear it.’

'I think it would be interesting, watching life evolve, seeing the world for all it's worth. Is that not appealing to you?'

'If that life were spent as I spend it now, I fear it would be far too lonely.' She wished she weren't so honest, but the words spilled before she had time to think. She hadn't realised how desperately she had wanted to speak of her problems.

'And what if you were to spend eternity with someone else?' he asked, 'what if your eternity was spent with both love and riches?'

'Then I suppose eternity would be easy to conquer.' She was unsure of what he was trying to find out, his hypotheticals too impossible to fathom by someone who merely longed to move away from her parents.

They parted reluctantly as the late afternoon began to darken. Arthur escorted her back to her carriage, and with a swift kiss to her hand, bid her farewell, with a promise that they would meet each other soon.

---

The White Estate was more lavish than Victoria could have ever dreamed. The small gathering Arthur had described had turned into a town-wide ball, as couples swept the dance floor to the tune of graceful music. Victoria found herself alone again, sipping her wine with more vigour than usual. She had not yet had the chance to speak with Arthur, though she watched him longingly as he swept across the floor with a number of his guests. He caught her eye on more than one occasion, flashing his winning smile, and she swooned. She hoped he would march over to her, take her hand and her escort her to the ballroom floor, where all could gaze upon them as they danced.

Instead, she was confronted with Agatha, who wore a look that Victoria had grown to hate.

‘You cannot let Arthur court you. I won’t allow it.’

Victoria did not have the patience. For the first time in a while, she felt happy. She looked forward to waking in the morning, her heart felt content in ways she had never felt before. Carelessly, with her pride wounded, she retorted, ‘I did not realise you were my father. All these years I’ve called you Agatha, should I have addressed you differently?’

Agatha crossed her arms. ‘I cannot bring myself to trust him. I keep my worries to myself for William’s sake, but something about Mr. White unnerves me.’

‘What unnerves you is the thought of attention on someone other than yourself,’ Victoria snapped, her tongue loosened by the wine that had stained it. ‘I beg you, do not worry for me, but rather for yourself, when you grow bored of William and are stuck with a husband whose riches no longer excite you!’

Agatha tore away, stomping back to her betrothed who fussed over her with practised ease. Victoria took to more wine to calm herself, and as her head began to swim, Arthur finally appeared in front of her.

‘May I have this dance, my lady?’ he held out a porcelain hand, and Victoria took it, making sure that Agatha noticed as Arthur pulled her towards the crowd.

They danced for what felt like hours, and it was bliss. Victoria ignored the nausea in her stomach for as long as she could but soon had to put an end to their revelry as the sickness crept up her throat. Arthur escorted her away to one of the many guest bedrooms that the manor held.

Arthur hovered in the doorway, a respectable distance from the lady sprawled across the bed. ‘Lay here for as long as you need. I’ll let your father know of your illness.’

‘Wait!’ Victoria beckoned, ‘please, keep me company. I do not wish to be alone.’ She tried to stand, but the dizzying room stopped her. Arthur rushed over, a steadying hand against her soft neck. He looked longingly towards it.

‘My dear, you do not know the danger you keep yourself in. I must call for your escort immediately!’

‘No!’ Panicked, with morals inebriated, Victoria grabbed Arthur with both hands and pulled him into an improper kiss. The force clashed a sharp tooth against her lip, and blood thinned by liquor began to spill.

With a flash of red, Victoria was quickly taken off guard as Arthur grasped her, holding her arms with a ferocious strength. His tight grip gave her little warning as he plunged for her neck, and with a cry she felt a sharp pain pierce her skin. The world around her began to fade, the edges of her vision blurred with darkness. She heard a faint screech, and though vague and faraway, she knew it to be Agatha. She soon felt herself whisked away from the room, and all turned dark.

---

Her father had not been kind. Victoria was chastised for her behaviour ruthlessly, but it had been short-lived. She could not stand for long, and the lingering sickness refused to lessen.

One late eve, as she felt her strength waning, a shadow appeared before her. Her window had blown open, and the curtains fluttered against the approaching silhouette.

'Sweet Victoria, I am sorry this has happened to you.'

She felt him grab her hand, his palm cold, but she was too weak to pull away.

'Your body is too frail, and I was not fast enough, not nearly enough.'

'Arthur?' she murmured, barely a whisper. The wind whistled, like a woman's dying call, as he knelt beside her. 'I'm dreaming?'

He placed a hand against the mark on her neck. A grotesque bruise had turned her skin a deep purple. She burned with a fever, her breath heavy and laboured.

'Do not talk, sweet girl. Let me end the suffering I've caused. Let me drink from you, so you may live on in me.'

'I don't understand - ' but she was cut short, as once again his towering strength held her down.

He kissed her lips, and then her cheek, and then her wound. 'You would have been most amicable company. Forgive me.' His eyes burned the same red they had on that tragic night, and his jaw widened to show his fangs in all his true glory. He plunged deeply into her neck and drank from her wound.

She gasped but could not scream. So quickly she became limp, so little blood she had left. It ran from his lips, dripping from his chin to her nightgown, and he did not relent.

She grew weaker, her vision growing fuzzy in the already obstructing darkness. She sensed his arm in front of her mouth.

'Drink from me,' he commanded. Weakly, she latched onto his wrist and began to gnaw. 'Bite down! Bite down, my love, for your life depends on it!'

And so she did, and blood began to pour. The metallic taste turned her stomach, but she drank with vigour, suckling at his flesh until he was forced to rip his arm away.

'Sleep now, and all will be well when you wake,' he spoke softly, and for the first time in a week, she closed her eyes and began to dream peacefully, her body lifted into his arms as he jumped from her window, and ran into the night.

---

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