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Raven’s Deep

by

Jane Jordan

 

Synopsis

Ravens Deep, an ancient house with a mysterious and tragic past, is the setting for this dark romantic English novel. Situated on the dramatic wooded coast of Exmoor, overlooking the Bristol Channel, Ravens Deep is also the ancestral home of the Chamberlayne family, and has remained remote and concealed from the outside world for decades.

Although charming and beautiful the house carries with it a terrible legacy that brings together the remaining descendants of the Chamberlaynes, adding a new chapter to their already tormented family history.

Madeline Shaw is drawn into the life of one very distant ancestor and driven to unlock the secrets that have been concealed for centuries. Inexplicably she finds herself pulled into a love that transcends the boundaries of time. A legacy of blood and desire draws her further to an ultimate decision and in her quest for never-ending love, Madeline incites a deadly and dangerous invitation.

From the bright and modern surroundings of London today, to the remote and mysterious beauty of Exmoor in south west     England, Madeline is pulled by the unrelenting charms of an immortal and finds herself in a life, few could imagine to be real and none allowed to survive.

The hauntingly beautiful moors set the scene for this dramatic tale and once Madeline arrives on Exmoor, distant ancestral     connections and a remarkable family resemblance are the only reasons her life is spared. Subsequently that results in a romantic story that stretches the bounds of reality, yet intriguing enough to excite the reader with the tense environment created when mortals are caught up in the unnatural world of immortals.

With an insight into the history of the opium trade combined with the darker side of city life, Madeline discovers hidden          underground passages and a London she could never have found alone. She is physically and emotionally pushed to extremes, until she  realises that she must decide which life to ultimately choose.

 

Chapter One - The Invitation

Time had simply vanished, for it was almost midnight when I looked up at the clock and realized that the constant drone of city life had long since diminished. Now, only an occasional car stereo or siren in the distance disturbed this warm summer’s night.

I rose from the table and moved across the room. Leaning heavily against the window frame I stared unblinking out into the darkness; it was as though there was an inexplicable need to commit to memory as much detail as possible. The customary sight of the undulating rooftops and historic buildings seemed to convey a sense of reassurance, and that perceived encouragement reminded me that I really did belong to this place.

London was a beautiful city with its hundreds of lights glistening in the darkness, and it was almost hard to believe that in only a few hours from now, this darkened multitude of shapes and infrequent figures would again become a seething mass of people rushing through their daily routines of business and pleasure. This vast capital was an urban playground where the attractions were many, from the lure of the West End high-life to the charming, traditional markets and culture of the East End and I could easily summarize that this city had something to entice everyone.

At its very core there is a persistent part of London, whether it is the fundamental structure or the Londoners themselves, which attaches itself and after a while that unfathomable something refuses to relinquish its hold; it becomes a permanent imprint on the hearts of those that it has reached out to. I was one such person and perhaps that was why I was now experiencing a sudden             reluctance to leave, to just turn my back and walk away for an unknown period of time.

I was caught up in the nostalgia of the moment and closed my eyes, but that did not ease my feelings of uncertainty. Instead I    believed that I could almost feel the pulsating beat in the many exotic night clubs and fashionable bars, or imagine someone playing a piano in a traditional East End pub. This culture was like no other; but more importantly, it was my life.

Tomorrow would come and I would leave this city, with all its noise and commotion, far behind and reluctantly I allowed the memories of earlier to fill my head, which in turn begged the question of why I still felt so unprepared. I remembered the empty    suitcase and clothes strewn around the bedroom and I forced myself to glance back to the table and to my research notes spread out in a chaotic mess, but deep down I knew that it was more than the packing and the clutter that continued to trouble me; I still had to resolve the persistent emotional conflict inside.

All evening I had tried to forget my earlier conversation with Charlie, but now alone in the semi darkness and stillness of the night I was again confronted with it. I thought back to the few simple words that he had spoken; words that had disturbed my insular world.

This afternoon had begun like any other when Charlie had arranged to meet me after work and we had gone out to an early     dinner. We had chatted casually about the events of our respective days, but as the evening approached his conversation took on a more serious nature.

In hindsight, I should have known what he had been leading up to, but caught up in my own thoughts I had missed the obvious signs, enabling him to take me completely by surprise when he had shocked me with his question.

“Will you marry me?” he had asked.

I had paused at first and then that hesitation had developed into an awkward silence. I knew that Charlie expected a favourable response, but I had only been able to sit motionless, caught up in the astonishment and the accompanying panic I had felt. When I   finally did respond, it was a hasty dismissive reply that told him I wasn’t ready and then I had side-tracked and fought to find a better excuse. I told him that it was too soon in our relationship to think about marriage, but we both knew that this explanation was weak and not believable.

However, it was when I witnessed the obvious disappointment and hurt that he could not mask I had realized that I meant more to him than I had ever imagined.

With that knowledge, I found myself abruptly shaken from the comfort level which I had grown accustomed to in our relationship, for I had never assumed he would ask me that question and if the truth be told, the subject had not even crossed my mind. I had thought, like me, he was happy the way things were, after all we had what I would describe as a casual relationship. It had lasted nearly two years, but there was nothing abnormal about that and I was too independent to be tied down. I did not want to commit to a serious involvement because I liked living alone, but more importantly I needed the freedom that came with that solitude.

During the previous two years I had been careful not to let our relationship develop into more than I was ready for and I had carefully constructed my own safety zone, not allowing anyone to get too close, but now it seemed as though Charlie was trying to break down my unseen barrier and I was struggling with the concept of that.

Why did he have to say anything? Today of all days.

It was not as if I was having second thoughts, but if I was honest with myself, I did feel guilty at the way I had reacted; he hadn’t deserved my bluntness and lack of sensitivity to his proposal. Charlie was after all a nice person; he was reliable and sincere with a secure future in store. He had worked in his father’s publishing company since leaving school and there was no doubt that he would take over the business completely in a few years from now.

However, for me, life with Charlie would be too reliable, too predictable. There was no fire in him, no intensity. Surely you needed passion, either about something or someone, to make you feel alive and I didn’t feel passion when I thought of Charlie.  When I was with him I felt safe and I was looking for more than safe. In his world, by his side I would forever be a bystander,      suffocating and screaming in silence; my own identity lost in a life that wasn’t my own. But despite my innermost feelings I was now being forced to face the question that demanded an answer.

Was it really Charlie that I was reluctant to leave?

Yesterday I had been so certain of my direction….