HANNAH. Formally for-coffee-and-contemplation. Thirty-three. Virgo. INFP. Writer. Old Haunts Author. Presently my heart belongs to Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham. Ao3: a_strange_inkling
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Edward stood solemnly in the corridor of Norwood House, staring at the towering oak doors of the library before him, mapping the twists and turns of the intricate carvings as he took a long moment to collect himself.
The house was so quiet, there was only the pounding in his ears, the unevenness of his breathing.
On the other side of these grand doors, Edward’s future bride laid in wait to receive him.
For the first time.
Christina Elizabeth Conyngham
The fallen girl of Hawksworth.
Once the most accomplished and coveted debutante in London; renowned for her beauty and grace, even in the halls of the royal household, engaged to the sole heir of one of the wealthiest families in the county; Edward would not have been permitted to stand within six feet of the lovely Miss Conyngham not more than two years ago.
Now he was here to wed her that very afternoon and bring her home to the crumbling ruin of his estate back in Durham tomorrow morn.
For a great and mysterious misfortune had befallen the Conynghams’ only daughter a little over a year prior, rendering the celebrated young lady to nothing but a reclusive ghost to the rest of the nobility. Her family had quickly spirited her away to their ancestral country home, keeping her well hidden from all her former friends and suitors.
It wasn’t long after her departure from London that her auspicious engagement to Lord Jacob Carnegie, the Fourth Earl of Farhaven, came to an abrupt end, severing the last of her and her family’s ties to polite society.
The rumors, of course, were elaborate, if not sensational. Some people even believed the girl had actually been murdered, attacked by thieves and left for dead on the side of the road. Most guessed she had run off with a lowly foot soldier, forsaking her virtue in a torrid affair and had fallen pregnant.
It wasn’t until Edward’s uncle had written Lord Conyngham with his preposition that a brief explanation was given for the girl’s disappearance and fall from grace.
It was divulged with the request of the utmost discretion that Christina and her lady’s maid had both been abducted on a return journey to London from visiting the Calvert family.
A notorious fugitive known as Creel had attacked and killed their driver and footman, taking the young women and keeping them captive for nearly eight months in his family’s abandoned manor house before they were finally found and liberated by the Sheriff’s men.
Creel’s trial was ongoing, but there was no doubt he would hang before the first frost of winter.
Lord Conyngham did not know what tortures befell his daughter aside from what little her lady’s maid shared with him, for Christina had not uttered a single word since her deliverance and return.
Her parents had called upon the finest doctors in London and Derbyshire, but not one could find a reason for the girl’s sudden silence. There were no signs of harm done to her throat or tongue, nor any damage to her head.
She could still communicate perfectly fine through her writing and drawings. Her father brought in books to instruct her and the servants how to sign with her fingers through gestures and expressions which she picked up quickly.
Unfortunately, her silence was not the only thing she suffered from. Since her return she suffered from fevers and fainting spells, sleep walking and having a handful of hysteric episodes from experiencing relentless night terrors.
Her father warned them before their arrival that she was no longer the same beautiful and witty young lady who had once charmed all the young knaves in the countryside… She had become a frail shell of herself, reserved and meloncholly… some might even say mad.
But that was no matter to Edward’s uncle. There was nothing wrong with the girl’s title or dowry, and that was what was needed for the survival of Blackthorn Hall and all the tenant farms who toiled their land.
His uncle had managed best he could after Edward’s father had squandered both their inheritance and brought endless scandal to the family name, but the money was now all but gone and there was nothing left for them to do but align themselves with a prosperous noble family.
Edward had to marry and produce an heir or all would be lost.
As wicked as it was to say, the Congyhams’ demise would be their salvation.
“We’ve trapped this poor girl,” Edward had whispered on the carriage ride over.
“Well, her father assured me that she agreed to this,” his uncle had told him as he stuffed his pipe. “Despite her mother’s disapproval to the match.”
Still, she had little choice in the matter. She and Edward were doomed to be locked in the same cage together it seemed.
How disappointing he would be to someone who once held the world in her hand.
At his short nod of approval, the footman opened the doors of the library for him, announcing his presence to the young lady who was already standing, perusing the shelves.
Lady Christina jumped a little at his entrance, despite having been waiting for him. Perhaps he had stalled at the threshold longer than he thought he had.
She glanced up from her books and Edward went still, taken aback by her beauty, her otherworldliness.
They both just stood there, staring in silence for so long, Christina’s lady’s maid cleared her throat, waking them from whatever spell that had been cast over them.
Edward remembered himself just as Christina curtsied low and demure.
“Forgive me,” he said softly. “I did not mean to startle you.”
Christina shook her head gracefully, the gold ringlets of her hair bouncing about her as if to say Not at all.
Edward opened his mouth to speak, to tell her of all the things that had been on his mind during his journey, at the door just now, for he knew the lady could not say anything in greeting.
His Uncle Warren could attest that he was never one for lack of something to say, but for the life of him, he could not even form a single syllable for both their sakes.
God above, she was so lovely, despite her obvious fragility, like something out of one of his novels.
Some tortured heroine, Ophelia or Guenivere come to life. Her wispy hair was spun of fire and gold, her thin figure poised and sinewy; her face pale, but so, so queenly and delicate. He could imagine it would feel as soft of dove feathers to caress her.
But it was her eyes that held him captive, for they were the very hour of midnight, dark and haunting, filled with ghosts.
Christina’s pouting lips parted, exchanging a glance with the ruby-haired maid who stood a few paces to the left of her.
The maid only shrugged her shoulders, looking as if she had already decided that Edward was a fool.
Then the lady began to move her fingers. The motions were so artful that Edward found himself bewitched by their dance. It was like she was sewing a gown or painting a picture, crafting words into thin air.
The maid nodded to her mistress before lancing her sharp, icy gaze back to Edward. “She says she hopes you’ve not had a difficult journey, sir.”
He glanced between the two women and valiantly tried to wedge his heart out of his throat to answer. “Y-yes! No! I uh mean, it was, it was a rather uneventful trip, if not a little grey and a few thunderstorms in our path…”
He chuckled awkwardly. What in God’s name was wrong with him? Had he never spoken to a woman before? He had, of course, but never one that could not answer him back, and certainly never one that was going to be his wife.
He bowed his head toward her reverently. “But very much worth it…if I may.”
Their eyes met once more and he felt his heart settle back in his chest, amazed and a little delirious that such a beautiful and enchanting creature was real, that she was to be his.
Christina gave him an amiable little smile, her face blooming becomingly with a bit of color.
He had the inane urge to embrace her, to pick her up and spin her around the room. But then he would surely frighten her, and that was the last thing he wanted.
“I was wondering,” he began, taking a careful step forward, reaching out a hand to her. “If we could have a moment alone together.”
Christina’s maid did not take to that idea at all. Seizing up as if ready to challenge Edward to a brawl, she drew close to her mistress, taking her arm rather intimately into hers as if she were a bosom companion rather than a servant.
Edward was certain that this was the maid who had been held captive alongside Christina. Her wintery eyes held the same horrors and were bruised by the same sleepless nights.
Regardless, there was a ferocity in the girl that burned protectively for her mistress. “Lady Norwood would not approve, sir.”
Edward had only been acquainted with Lady Norwood for about an hour, but even he could attest that she was a cruel and rotten creature. He found he had very little care about her approval.
“In view of the circumstances,” Edward replied cordially. “I don’t think a moment alone before our wedding will cause any harm, miss.”
Absolutely no rush, but are there any updates/snippets from The Vanishing of Chrissy Cunningham or Vecna's Bride that you can provide?
a little snippet of vecna’s bride 🕷️
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When Chrissy awoke a second time in the strange house, she wasn’t alone.
Henry had stayed beside her through the night, holding her to his chest; still dressed, lightly tousled. Propping her chin, her eyes traveled over him in quiet wonder as he slept, a foreign warmth and fondness overwhelming her. He didn’t look so frightening now in the morning light; he looked like a sleeping angel.
Serene and innocent.
A nightmare turned back into a dream.
Unable to help herself, she cautiously, curiously reached up and touched a coil of his golden hair, soft as a feather, gently pushing it from his face.
He slept so deeply, unmoving, that she gave into her darker temptations and boldly ran a hand through the length of it. Then again. And again. Brushing through his hair that glimmered in the light spilling from the window.
She wondered for a moment what would happen if she were to kiss him, to love him.
To stay.
He was so achingly beautiful.
And he loved her.
What was there for her to even return to? It had only ever been the two of them, safe in this house.
“It will just be the two of us… you and I together, as it should be.”
“You wake up so early, my love,” he murmured, eyes still closed, his fingers crawling up her spine, his nails tracing her skin in a secret language.
She startled, but his hold fastened, making her gasp.
3. What was the last thing you looked up for a fic?
*shuffles feet* famous houses in england (for the regency/arranged marriage au i should not be writing right now, but already have a first chapter almost finished 🫣)
22. What is one of your favorite tropes to write?
if it’s not too obvious, hurt/comfort is my absolute favorite. i also love to write myth/fairy tale retelling, gothic horror, arranged marriage, role reversal, forced proximity (and they were roommates!), and domestic/curtain (for certain ships).
