Part III: Miss Marlowe's New Beau

Miss Marlowe had become Haddock’s living shadow for the past month, popping up wherever he happened to be and remarking each time with the same feigned surprise, “Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Haddock!”  He was growing tired and rattled with having to evade the wily woman.  It was even more vexing that his mother had hired her as a companion while he had been abroad.  Mrs. Haddock had flat out refused to send the young woman away when Haddock told her that he was under the impression that Miss Marlowe had discovered the truth about his condition.
   “How could she possibly know?” was Mrs. Haddock’s unconvinced reply. “Our “Condition,” as you like it call it, is the best kept secret in all of Broadburn!”  She had promptly sent Haddock out of her boudoir so that she could crochet in peace while awaiting Miss Marlowe’s company.
   Miss Marlowe wasn’t the only person troubling him though.  Sir Bertrand Drexel had reared his scarred face in Broadburn yet again, despite their vicious altercation two years ago.  Sir Drexel was exactly the type who labelled Haddock and those likewise afflicted as bloodthirsty, soulless monsters.  He had terrorized the outlying residents of Broadburn every full moon, leaving mangled corpses in his wake until Haddock had worked up the nerve to finally do something about the carnage.  Several days before the next full moon, he had privately approached Sir Drexel and given him a fair warning to cease with his rampage or face the consequences.
   “Try to stop me, whelp,” had been Sir Drexel’s response.  When the orb moon stood prominent in the sky a few nights later, Haddock followed Sir Drexel to his usual territory to confront him again, this time with the strength of the wolf on his side.  That fight had been more effective than any exchange of words, sending Sir Drexel packing as soon as he regained human form again.  His house had been boarded up and left for nature to take over.
   Haddock had known something was awry when hired hands descended upon the house to beat back the ivy invasion and trim the wild lawn to a civilized length.  This was followed by a fresh coat of paint and a seemingly endless parade of carts bearing all of Sir Drexel’s worldly possessions stopping in front of the house weekly to deposit their burdens.
   Sir Drexel had then announced the return of his personage by throwing a lively ball.  He had even had the audacity to invite the Haddocks; he hadn’t been cocky enough to invite them in person, however.  Haddock frostily refused for both him and his mother—who was conveniently left out of the loop of female gossip due to her paralysis—and prepared for a night of holing himself up in the manor’s library to read while Miss Marlowe and Mrs. Haddock kept each other company.  His plans unraveled themselves when Miss Marlowe decided to go to the ball herself.  Haddock was annoyed, but it was to be expected of a young lady used to the high life of Bath to want to attend any and every social event possible in such a small town as Broadburn.  He read Mrs. Haddock’s favorite bits of poetry to her that night until she grew too sleepy and retired for the evening.  Haddock had returned to the library to read for himself, but found that he was distracted.  He instead spent several hours pacing in front of the window, awaiting word of Miss Marlowe’s safe return to her home.
   Although Sir Drexel’s unknown reputation in wolf form had become something of a local legend, the man’s reputation as a notorious womanizer had more solid evidence.  The mothers of Broadburn warned their daughters to stay away from Sir Drexel unless they wanted to be tainted by his wickedness.  Some heeded their maternal warnings, while others were drawn to the mystery of the man, spurred on by gossip and romantic fantasies garnered from novels.
   Haddock thought that Miss Marlowe was better than the latter set.  She had showed intelligence and discernment when he overheard her talking with his mother in the halls and grounds of the estate, enough to convince him that she wouldn’t be taken in by Sir Drexel’s silver tongue and enigmatic aura…which was why it came as such a shock to his system to see Miss Marlowe walking arm in arm with Sir Drexel in the town square.  He was sure that he had stopped and gawked long enough so that onlookers had noticed.  Miss Marlowe had certainly taken note.  She saw his expression and flashed him a mocking smile while Sir Drexel leered in his direction in a gloating manner.  Haddock realized that Miss Marlowe was using Sir Drexel to make him jealous.  What she didn’t realize was that most of Sir Drexel’s victims had been the young women he had seduced into his clutches.

————-

Isolde and Haddock’s story called for some conflict, which is how Sir Betrand Drexel was spawned.  He’s working in between them on two fronts: 1), as a rival for Haddock, and 2), as a threat to Isolde.  Isolde can’t immediately sniff out a werewolf by instinct–it’ll be explained how she figured out Haddock’s lyncanthropism later on–which is why she innocently decides to flirt with Sir Drexel, thinking it’s the best way to get Haddock to finally do something and court her.  Haddock is just going, “Woman, RUN FOR YER LIFE.”