Arrival., Open

[James Carlyle]

The fine gravel skipped from the rubber tires as the tan Ford Model A lurched down the rural road, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. Dark clouds rolled ominously over the countryside, threatening one of the first of the heavy fall rains. The wind was beginning to kick up, blowing leaves from the trees, and shaking the canvas on the raised cover of the automobile violently. James gritted his teeth and grinned as he rounded a corner, pressing the pedal deeper into the foot well, sending the black needle jerking up to fifty kilometers per hour. He was surprised how much faster fifty kilometers felt without the jerking upset of a horse’s gate. The speed of an automobile was a focused modern speed, streamlined and powerful, dangerous. The engine coughed, lurching James forward in his seat, and knocking the breath from his lungs. He laughed and grimaced, pulling himself forward in his seat. In a few minutes he rounded the final bend, clearing the trees and heading straight for the Manor. He felt his heart rise into his throat, thoughts and memories of Ella, his dear Jane, and _____. He was looking forward to settling down and reading, getting to finally have a hand in raising his two beautiful children. He wondered if they were expecting him. He had telegrammed in advance a day before from London, but they probably expected that he was coming by carriage, and none of them knew of the automobile that he had just purchased. He wondered what Ella was going to think of it, he did hope she wouldn’t disapprove of his latest toy. His beautiful Ella would hopefully be somewhere in the house, he did hope she hadn’t gone out riding, especially not with the weather picking up the way that it was.

James pulled up into the cul-de-sac in front of the Manor, and slipped his hat onto his head before exiting the vehicle. As he opened the door, a sharp crack of thunder broke the clouds, beginning a subtle rain that fell lightly onto James’ shoulders. “Typical…” James mumbled as he began a casual jog towards the house.

[Eleanor Carlyle (Sara)]

(Bah, sorry this took me so long! <3 Feel free to join in, Jane?)

Eleanor had gone out riding and pressed her horse as fast as possible back to the stables. Two or three thick rain drops splattered impatiently on the bridge of her nose. Though the curtain of rain in the distance hadn't quite come yet, it was descending upon the manor like an unwelcome guest.

But she relished this kind of weather. Loved the wind streaming past her ears, in her lungs, making her feel alive and reckless. This would possibly be the last time she would have a chance to run free, too. The telegram had arrived yesterday from James and one half of her thrilled to get word from him; the other half immediately tensed with the knowing that there would be more awkward moments as they tried to repair their relationship with the children about.

But she couldn't help start wondering -- dreaming even? -- what he had been doing in London, if he looked any different, what he would be wearing. If he would smile when he saw Jane, her brother, and herself.

At last -- the stable popped into view over the hill that July, her horse, had been climbing. The air was thick with rain, and with a sharp crack of thunder that spurred July on even faster, they made it to safety in the stables as a thin veil of rain fell from the sky.

Eleanor unpinned her hat and strode quickly to the house. She was still in her riding habit and would need her lady's maid to help her change immediately. Loose strands of hair sprung around her face in what she was sure was a horrible mess. Needless to say, no way to present herself as the lady of the house. The rain wasn't helping much, although it felt cool against her hot face.

But she would not even get the chance to change. As she came upon the entrance of the house she found parked there an unfamiliar automobile; new, it looked, but who--? And a not so unfamiliar figure jogging towards the entrance.

"James?" she managed, quickening her pace along with her heartbeat. He was home.

[James Carlyle]

James' jog inward was interrupted by a sweet silver voice floating across the remainder of the distance. He looked up to see his wife in full riding attire, sweat glistening on her shining face, and spots of rain strewn across her shirt. Her hair was falling apart, strands falling across her face which was flushed red in her obvious hurry to return to the manor before his imminent arrival.

James slowed his pace to a walk, as his hand absentmindedly flew to his cravat, he didn't know what kind of an effect the ride in the car had on his appearance. His chance to straighten up in the entryway was lost now, but from the looks of his spouse, they would both need a little freshening up as soon as they got in. "Ella," he said, just loud enough for her to hear him over the light patter of the drizzle. He strode up to her, and took her in his arms, burying himself in her neck, breathing in the smell of her sweat and the equine smell of their horses which had not yet left her clothes.

"How are the children?" He pulled back, and looked at her, "you could use a bath, you're gleaming! I'm going to be a bit of an egotist and assume this sweat is for me?" He smiled in his subtle way, mirth tugging upwards at the edge of his lips. His wife's timing had been fantastic, he was truly hoping he would not have to return to an empty mansion, he knew how somber such a place was when no one was there. When James' parents had departed from the manor, leaving him alone with the servants, James always felt that he was an intruder on an ancient's tomb, the silence and loneliness of the perfectly crafted hallways and plethora of rooms had occasionally driven him to try to acquaint himself with the servants, but the class barrier had been too strong, and he never got much of anywhere with the stoic men of the basement, and got even less ground with the indefatigable women of the upstairs.

"Come along," he said, "let's go get cleaned up," tugging his wife in the direction of the entrance.