Blood- David Holman-Hill Waters short story

 September 1890, Whitby, Yorkshire.

Dear reader my name is Elizabeth Clayborne, although everyone calls me Lizzy. I was born in Whitby, Yorkshire and had just turned fifteen in the year of our Lord 1890 when the events I am about to relate unfold.

I first saw the gentleman in question, when he arrived at Mrs Veazey’s, 6 Royal Crescent in Whitby in late July 1890. I never knew his name, and only saw him in very dim light. I was given to understand he was well to do, but had spent several years abroad. He’d arrived mysteriously in Whitby aboard a ship, The Demeter, following a terrible storm. No one else aboard had survived. Rumours circulated the ship was cursed, its  name being that of the Greek Goddess who had power over Life and Death.

At this time I was sweet on a lad, George. I’d known George for about a year and he wanted to marry me. George got me work at the lodgings house down by the harbour where he worked, run by a widow woman, Mrs Oldroyd, and for whom, I then cleaned and ran errands.

I was besotted with George, he could be very passionate, and I loved him kissing my neck and caressing me.

The following morning Mrs Oldroyd told me a gentleman had arrived late the previous night, and that I was to go to his room and ask if he required breakfast.

In the room, the shutters were still closed, only candlelight illuminating it. For the first time, properly, I saw his face. It was strange, he wasn’t young but neither was he old or even middle aged; nor could one say he was handsome, yet he had a presence, an aura about him; his eyes bored into your very soul.

“Didn’t I see you at Mrs Veasey’s?” He asked. I replied that he had. “Your neck child,” he continued “have you hurt yourself? It appears bruised.”

“No Sir.” I replied, lying to hide the mark, it’s nothing.”

“What’s your name child?”

“Elizabeth Sir, but everyone calls me Lizzy.”

“Well Lizzy,” he smiled “my guess is you have a suitor, and a very enthusiastic one. It’s alright Lizzy, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Yes Sir.”

“I have a feeling Lizzy you and I are going to become very good friends. First though I would ask you to run an errand for me. Go down to The Demeter, it’s quite safe, you’ll come to no harm, there you will find a giant of a man with many facial scars, give him this Guinea and tell him to find four men to bring my big trunk and the rest of my belongings here. The men will be paid when they deliver the trunk. Here is a Florin for your trouble. Go now, I need these things by nightfall.”

“Yes Sir. Sir, what name shall I give?”

The gentleman looked at me disconcertingly, smiling it seemed, quietly to himself.

“Draculathwaite,” he said eventually “Count Josiah Draculathwaite.”