Old Gods of Appalachia - Episode 106: The Bride

Episode Date: August 27, 2026

The rich man’s son brings his betrothed to Lonely Creek.CW: References to personal ads, mail-order brides, death of parents, cat sounds, rain and wind sounds, horse drawn carriage sounds.Written by Cam CollinsProduced and edited by Cam Collins and Steve ShellNarrated and performed by Steve ShellSound design by Steve ShellThe voice of Joseph Bland: Willie RepoleyThe voice of Lavinia Thrice Damned, Beast of Lonely Creek: Cam CollinsIntro music: “The Land Unknown (The Where the Light Don’t Reach Verses)” written and performed by Landon BloodOutro music: ”Wherever You Go” written and performed by Lunar Grove (download)Special equipment consideration provided by Lauten Audio.LEARN MORE ABOUT OLD GODS OF APPALACHIA: www.oldgodsofappalachia.comCOMPLETE YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA RITUAL: Facebook Instagram BlueskySUPPORT THE SHOW: Join us over at THE HOLLER to enjoy ad-free episodes, access exclusive storylines and more.Buy t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, and other Old Gods merch. CLASSIC MERCH: merch.oldgodsofappalachia.comTOUR MERCH & SPECIALTY ITEMS: oldgodsmerch.com.Transcripts available on our website at www.oldgodsofappalachia.com/episodes.© 2026 DeepNerd Media. All rights reserved. No part of this audio production or its written transcript may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems.Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/old-gods-of-appalachia. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Well, hey there, family, if you love Old Gods of Appalachia, I want to help us keep the home fires burning, but maybe aren't comfortable with the monthly commitment. Well, you can still support us via the ACAS supporter feature. No gift too large, no gift too small. Just click on the link in the show description, and you too can toss your tithe in the collection plate. Feel free to go ahead and do that.

Right about now. Old Gods of Appalachia is a lot of the same. a horror anthology podcast and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences. So listener discretion is advised. With the construction of his stately manner well underway and portions of the house reasonably habitable, Joseph Bland set about pursuing a bride. To this end, he placed advertisements with newspapers in Virginia Tennessee, North Carolina, and Maryland, appealing to the appropriate patriarchal figures looking

to offload young women of marriageable age. He had seen many such notices in various publications and had decided it was a sensible approach to the problem, particularly if one lacked the time and patience to attend the endless arrays of parties and balls that were the common vehicle through which the scions of families of means were matched with brides. Bachelor of Independent Means and Good Family, aged 30, seeks respectable young lady with whom to enter the bonds of holy matrimony, must be of impeccable virtue, agreeable disposition, and fair. Neither dowry nor other property required, temperament, and character are of chief concern. Fathers or guardians of suitable candidates may write to arrange an introduction. Mr. Joseph L. Bland, Lonely Creek, Kentucky.

He spent a good hour wrestling with the language of this posting. It should be succinct, given he was paying by the word, yet needed to make his requirements as clear as possible. And above all, it must convey respectability. No one who read his advertisement should think he was a swindler or a fortune hunter. Once he was satisfied with what he had written, he sent copies to the publications, chosen and awaited replies.

The results of his efforts on the whole were variable at best. Many of the letters described candidates who were so clearly unsuitable he couldn't imagine why his correspondence had invested the time to put pen to paper. Dear Mr. Bland, I read with some interest your advertisement in the Virginia Gazette and would be pleased to introduce you to my eldest daughter, Clemency. I'll not lie to you, sir, the child is no beauty, but she's a hard worker. and I promised my late wife I would not allow my two younger girls to marry until I see clemency properly situated. Her younger sisters have both received proposals and hound me night and day to give my consent.

I can see from your notice that you, sir, are the sort of man who will appreciate the presence of a good and sturdy helpmate at his side. We live across the street from the pastor, and he has promised that the pair of you can be married and on your way home as soon as introductions have been made. Could his correspondence not read? Joseph has stated quite plainly that the girls should be fair. He wondered if he should have made the point more forcefully with a word like lovely or beautiful, but he hadn't wanted to appear frivolous or hedonistic. Dear sir, I saw your notice in the Tipton post regarding your search for a wife. I write to you to offer up mine.

Though she is a bitter shrew, she is a decent mother and a fine cook. Now that our boys are grown, I can no longer abide her and wish to seek my fortune elsewhere. However, if you are in need of a woman to run your household and raise your children, she will serve you well. I'm happy to negotiate a very fair price for her, as the young lady I am currently betrothed to is eager to take up her place. Let alone the fact that he had no interest in pursuing another man's wife, Joseph had written quite plainly that he was searching for a younger woman who would be agreeable. He had sighed as he tossed the missive into the fireplace and turned to another letter, which turned out to be even less appropriate. It was from a prison warden all the way up north in Boston.

Joseph had no idea how the man had even come across his advertisement, seeking to reform incarcerated women by finding them either honest employment or husbands. But other letters were more promising, if not what he was looking for. Dear Mr. Bland, you must forgive my boldness, but I write to you not as a guardian. but upon my own behalf. I am a widow of seven and twenty years of age. My poor husband, who went down with his ship off the coast of North Carolina last year, left me a wealthy woman and well connected in society.

While I am well taken care of, I find myself both in need of a strong hand to assume the reins of his business and missing the tender companionship of the marital condition. Might we acquaint ourselves and see if matrimony would suit us both? Joseph might well have considered the widow, were it not clear from her letter that the woman expected her potential paramour to pack up stakes and come to her. While he did not require it, he was certainly not opposed to marrying a wealthy woman.

He had no interest in the shipping business, however, nor in throwing away all he had worked for here at Lonely Creek. In the end, there were only three that he felt showed real promise. The one in particular stood out amongst the rest. Dear sir, your notice in the Maryland Cryer was of great interest to me, as I find myself in possession of a young lady who suits your requirements. The young girl is my late brother's child, thrust upon my household by the cruel hand of fate. Her parents were set upon by robbers on their way home from the harbor,

their wagon loaded with the shipment of goods for my brother's shop. Fortunately, for the girl, she had been left at home to save room in the wagon. I'm afraid there'll be no dowries. All my brother's assets were seized to satisfy his obligations, though I understood from your post that one is not required. The girl's reputation is unblemished, her virtue unquestioned, and she is gently bred. She has a fine hand for needlework,

though I must confess she has no aptitude for music whatsoever. She cannot play a note on the piano forte, and while she does not shame us at church, I fear only the Lord could love her singing voice, and cannot recommend her for the entertaining of guests. These shortcomings aside, she is a comely lass, fair-haired and blue-eyed, and of a docile temperament that should not demand too firm a hand. I have enclosed a miniature that captures her likeness quite accurately.

My good wife and I would be pleased to make the introduction at your convenience. There were a handful of details in the missive that struck a chord with Joseph, though the tiny portrait tucked into the envelope certainly arrested his entrance. A young woman with delicate features gazed out for her. the scrap of canvas. Her eyes large and expressive, and rather more gray than blue, he thought, if the color of the paint could be relied upon. She did not smile, but her features appeared more marked by sadness than anything else, which was understandable given the circumstances. Her lack of family, for it seemed clear the uncle was eager to be rid of her, suited Joseph.

He had no interest in marrying a woman whose obligations would be divided. A proper wife should stand at his side and occupy herself with his needs and his household. With her lovely face and lack of ties to cling to, Joseph felt in his bones that he had found his future bride. He thought it best to hedge his bets, however, so he replied to all three correspondents who had piqued his interest to arrange meetings with each of the candidates. The young women were spread across Tennessee, Virginia, and Maryland, so he determined it made the most sense to make a tour of it, traveling from one night. to the next, he would visit the girl in Maryland last.

Because the route made the most sense logistically, and because if his intuition was correct, he could arrange things with her uncle in person at the end of the journey. When the fire dies down, in the woods go quiet, and you think you told every tale you know, In the old flame To reshape the darkness So you lock your eyes on the trembling glow The faces you find are so familiar They could almost speak

The stories fall where the light won't reach And you can feed the fire to curse the darkness When the voices call Long shadows And fall Joseph Bland arrived in Annapolis On the heels of an early spring snow

The weather had delayed his progress that morning And thus the hour was later than he'd hoped for When he knocked at the door of her uncle's house The sun had already set And he'd considered renting a room for the night At a local tavern But when he came to the house The windows glowed with candlelight

His knock was answered by an elegantly dressed matron Who ushered him into a formal sitting room where a fire burned cheerily in the hearth, though it appeared to be unoccupied. She took his coat and offered him a seat near the fire, and hustled off to fetch her husband. The man who had written to Joseph was a comfortably plump, nervous little man, with a balding pate and watery brown eyes that squinted from behind a pair of spectacles. He shook Joseph's hand and then settled into the chair across from him. A moment later, his wife, Bland noted had to be a good three inches taller,

returned with a pot of tea, a plate of warm bread, and some butter. She served the pair of them and then withdrew from the room. The two men exchanged a few brief pleasantries, but the conversation quickly turned to the reason for his visit, his orphaned niece. Though his letters had given the impression that the man was eager to wash his hands of the girl, he appeared to take his duty as the young woman's guardian seriously. By the end of the interview, Joseph felt as though he had been positively interrogated. He felt somewhat offended by the probing nature of the question,

though he supposed he could not fault the man for seeking to learn all he could about the man who had come seeking his ward's hand. In the end, he seemed satisfied and summoned his niece into the room. Joseph braced himself for disappointment. The flattery of portrait artists, usually paid by either their subjects themselves or by their loved ones, was well known, and thus it was understood one must take such likenesses with a grain of salt. In this case, however, it would seem the painter's skill had not been up to the task.

If anything, the miniature her uncle had sent failed to do her justice. The young woman who entered the room was radiant, in spite of the black dress she still wore, signifying the period of mourning for her family. Her hair was a pale silvery shade of blonde, almost white, and her luminous eyes were in fact not blue but gray, a shifting shade that reminded him of clouds. Her skin was pale, but not in the sallow manner suggestive of illness. It was smooth and unlined.

Her mouth and cheeks flushed with the fatality of youth. For a moment, Blan found himself dumbstruck. Their gaze is locked, and the girl's eyes dropped Shiley to the floor. This is my niece, Lavinia. Lavinia, this is the gentleman we discussed, Mr. Joseph Blan. Good evening, Mr. Plant. The young woman's eyes flickered briefly to his, then dropped to her toes again, but she held out her hand politely. Joseph captured it in both of his.

It was soft, if exceptionally cold. The fingers slender and delicate. He bent over it in a courtly gesture, his lips brushing the air just above it, not quite touching her pale flesh. Miss Lavinia, it is a pleasure to meet you at Lovina. Last, Lavinia's uncle rose from his seat and ushered the girl into it. Once she was settled, he backed hastily toward the sitting-room door. I'll leave you two to get acquainted. I'll be right outside if you need anything.

Silence descended over the room. Lavinia sat with her hands folded demurely in her lap, her eyes downcast. It was obvious the girl was painfully shy, which Joseph supposed might explain why she was yet unmarried. He reached for the teapot and motioned toward the third. as yet unused cup. Would you like some tea? Oh, yes, thank you. That's so kind.

Lavinia's hands trembled slightly as she accepted the proffered beverage, and she steadied them by wrapping her fingers around the cup, warming them. There was a brief awkward silence, and Joseph hastened to fill it. I understand you lost your parents last year. Your uncle said their wagon was attacked?

Yes. My father ran a small mercant. and my mother took in dressmaking in the back. They had gone to pick up a shipment of goods from the harbor, and their wagon was set upon a few miles north of Fell's Point. They were both found shot in the empty wagon. That must have been horrible for you. You have my condolences. Yes, it has been a challenging year. Thank you for your kind word, sir. My mother and father have both passed on as well. It's been some time, but I miss my mother greatly. The love of one's mother is irreplaceable.

That's true, sir. I miss them both so very much. My aunt and uncle have been very kind, though. I truly don't know what I would have done without them. Yes, very good of them to take you in. I trust your mother would have schooled you well in the domestic arts as a dressmaker. Yes, sir. Ours was a small household, just the three of us, since my gram passed a few winters ago.

Until she died, she cooked all our meals, and I learned to cook from her. Mother taught me to sew, and though I lack her skill with designing garments, I enjoy needlework. My gram taught me to tend the garden as well. I've been helping my aunt since I arrived here, and she's shown me a bit about managing a larger home. With servants, I mean. I like to keep busy. Excellent. Idle hands are the devil's instruments, after all. I'm building a house in Kentucky. It's rougher territory, you understand, so my staff is small. As lovely as your hands are,

I'm pleased to hear they can be counted on if there's work to be done. Lavinia's cheeks flushed, and she looked back down at her hands, though her mouth curved into a soft smile. It was a chaste expression that was nonetheless so radiant that for a moment Joseph couldn't quite catch his breath. He could only stare at her. Are you all right, Mr. Blant? I'm sorry. I was just admiring your hair. It's quite lovely. Do you tend it yourself or did your aunt's maid do it for you? Lavinia smiled again, her hand twitching nervously to the silvery locks. braided up around her head.

As I said, sir, there were no servants in my father's house. My mother taught me to tend it myself. It's no great chore. Joseph's mind turned again to his brother, to the woman he had married, and the entourage of ladies' maids it seemed to require to prepare his sister-in-law simply to go to the market in town. And he thought to himself, Not one to put on airs, is she?

simply a natural beauty, William will eat his heart out. But to Lavinia, Joseph said, Did your parents do much entertaining? A bit, sir. As I said my father ran a small shop. We host its salesman passing through with wares for the store from time to time, and my aunt and uncle visited occasionally. That's good to hear.

When my house is finished, I too expect to entertain business associates and members of my family, I will require a kind and gracious hostess at my side, someone who will make the right sort of impression. Of course you will, sir. It is a wife's duty to make her husband's home a place of comfort and respite, to make his guests feel welcome. The restrained yet glorious smile lit her face again, and Joseph Bland was sold. This was the one. He could feel it in his bones. This was the girl who was destined to be his bride, who would stand at his side and prove his success, his superiority to his brother and the whole damn world.

Deep within his gut he felt a sharp, strange pull toward the young woman, a hunger unlike anything he'd ever felt before. She would be his. She mutt. A soft tap came at the door, and Lavinia's uncle opened it and peered inside. Joseph turned to him. with a smile. Perfect timing, sir. Might I have a word? The man nodded and stepped inside. He turned to

Levinia and held the door open for her. If it'll excuse us, girl, we have business to discuss. The young woman vanished up the stairs and Joseph's eyes followed her until she was out of side. Neither of the men spoke until the sound of a door closing came to them from upstairs and the girl's uncle turned to him with a shrewd look. Well now, what did you think of her? She seems to possess all the qualities I'm looking for. I'll take her. Excellent, excellent. Come, we'll discuss the details in my study. It was the work of less than an hour for the two men to hash out the matter over a celebratory mug of ale. In exchange for Lavinia's hand, a reasonable sum would be transferred from Joseph's accounts to her uncles. A portion of this would cover her bridal trousseau, continued room and board

while it was assembled, and the cost of hiring someone to escort her safely to his home in Kentucky. The remainder served to express Joseph's gratitude for their kindness in taking the orphan girl in and in the course of time, conveying her to her future husband. Before Joseph departed, Lavinia was summoned back downstairs so the newly minted couple could say their goodbye. Lavinia, this gentleman has asked for your hand and I've accepted his proposal. Congratulations, my dear, you're going to be married. Levinia's eyes widened with surprise as Mr. Blan clasped her hand. hand and pressed something into her palm. When she glanced down at the small object, she saw it was a simple band of gold, a betrothal ring,

which in time would become her wedding band. You'll need to take it to a jeweler to have it sized to your hand, of course. For a long moment, Lavinia simply stared at the ring wordlessly. Have you nothing to say to your bridegroom? Oh, yes. Thank you, Mr. Bland. It's beautiful. Laminia's uncle explained to her that while Blan would be returning to his home in Kentucky on the morrow,

she would remain in Maryland for a while. They would purchase a new hope chest for her to replace the one that had been taken, along with most of her things, to satisfy her father's debts. Her aunt would assist her in gathering the necessary items to fill it, garments suitable for the wife of a man of Blan's stature, fine linens, a set of china, and other items she would need for her new household. Once these tasks were completed, she would join him at Lonely Creek. At her uncle's urging, Levinia saw the stranger to the door, and he clasped her hand again,

and this time he did press a kiss to it. His lips were cool and... Good night, Miss Levenia. I look forward to seeing you soon. The bride arrived at Lonely Creek on a damp and chilly afternoon some six weeks later. Lavinia had abandoned her morning entire in favor of the elegant garments her aunt's dressmaker had sown for her and wore a woolen cloak dye to the deep red cranberries that she herself had embroidered with white roses about the collar. Her pale blonde waves were pinned up under a practical gray bonnet in deference to the rain. Her gray eyes took on the hue of the thunder clouds under the weeping skies

as she stepped from the carriage with a large wicker basket over one arm and surveyed her new surroundings. A partially constructed yet already sprawling house made of red brick stood on the hilltop. A handful of workers bustling around the unfinished wing in spite of the weather. At the opposite side of the house stood a tower with a deep conical roof already completed. Its round windows streaked with rain. An arch entryway led up to a covered porch, the front door just distinguishable among the shadows within. A covered balcony that mirrored this feature with an arch of its own,

was under construction on the third floor. There was a stable set apart from the house into its rear. Its doors stood open, and Lavinia could see a pair of horses nibbling oats within their stalls. There was more construction underway behind the house, some spindly structure whose purpose she couldn't yet decipher. There was something about the place that didn't quite feel right. Shadows seemed to cling to the edges of its structures at odd angles outside, the path of the sun's clouded light.

The air tasted wild in some way. Farrow. Like the edge of some vast wasteland. In spite of the clear stream running through the lush trees and in spite of the workman's attempts to taint it. She had the sense that at any moment the house might sprout legs and lope down the mountain like some great beast.

She couldn't quite put her finger on what inspired this fanciful notion. It was to all appearance as a well-built house constructed of sturdy brick atop a foundation of solid stone. Perhaps, she thought, it was merely that the house was unfinished that left her with this unsettled feeling. Her thoughts were interrupted when the front door opened and Joseph Bland emerged,

trailed by a pair of sturdy-looking men. The two men hastened to the carriage and began to unload Lavinia's trunks. The hope chest she and her aunt had painstakingly filled with items, she and her future husband would use to build their household, and the simpler, smaller trunk that contained all her remaining worldly goods. Blan's eyes roved over the woman who would soon be his wife, noting with approval the way the red cloak flattered her rosy cheeks, and the gray of the hat brought out her eyes.

The cut of her garment spoke to the quality of their craftsmanship, and her boots were of fine leather. He was pleasantly surprised that her aunt and uncle hadn't slided her in order to increase their share of the money that he had transferred them to prepare her for their life together. He felt again that deep internal towards the girl, combined with the feeling of deep satisfaction that she was finally here in his place,

where all his things were now. Lavinia, like the house he was building here, was now. Welcome to Lonely Creek, Miss Lavinia. I trust your journey wasn't too trying. Thank you, Mr. Blant. It was fine. We've had nice weather. Until today.

A loud, anxious mewing began to issue from the basket, Lavinia carried, and Joseph glanced down at the contraption and surprise. What in the hell is that? My cat, sir. His proper name is Asmodius, though I call him Azzie. Lavinia held the lid open a crack at a pair of green eyes, out at Joseph from the darkness within. He scowled an irritation at this unexpected development. No one had mentioned the girl kept any pets. Seeing his displeasure, Lavinia clutched the basket

to her chest protectively. Cats are very useful, sir. They keep a home free of vermin. My father's house never had a problem with mice, as he knows how to earn his keep. Joseph had the basket warily. He recalled that his mother had often complained of the rats that plagued the larders of his father's estate in Charlottesville. He supposed that if the creature could solve that problem, it would be cheaper than hiring a rat catcher. And if it further served to keep the young woman occupied, the burden of entertaining her would fall less on his own shoulders. Fine. I suppose he can stay, just so long as I don't find the beast defecating on my carpets. To his surprise, Levinia took no offense at the slot upon the honor of her furry companion. Instead, she laughed.

Of course not, sir. Don't be silly. A well-mannered cat does his business outside. Or in a box of sand if he shut in. Did your family never have a cat? Not that I'm aware. Perhaps the servants kept one. As you said, to control the rodent population, but we had no pets. My father wouldn't allow it. He had hunting dogs, of course, but he kept them outside. He didn't believe animals belonged indoors. A shadow crossed Levinia's face, and if he hadn't known better, Joseph would have said the expression in her gray eyes was one of pity. But that couldn't be. Why should she pity him?

And over a cat, of all things, the idea was ridiculous. That's a shame. I've always felt children should have a pet to keep them company. It teaches them responsibility, too, and kindness. How do you figure that? They learn to care for someone other than themselves. sir, to feed and clean up after them, of course, but also to care for their happiness. Joseph Bland regarded the woman he had brought to Lonely Creek to become his wife for a long moment.

He had avoided discussing children at their previous meeting, as the subject which obviously brought to mind the related topic of what one does to create them, could quickly become embarrassing. But as he mulled over her words, he thought that in spite of her youth, the girl was possessed of more wisdom than he would have credited. Perhaps that was a quality inherent to women, a gift of their motherly instincts. But nevertheless, that certainty had felt back in Maryland returned to him. This was the one.

Joseph patted Lavinia's arm and smiled at her fondly. When we have children, they will of course be your purview. So if you say they must have pets, then pets they will have. Lavinia's cheeks reddened at his comment, and Joseph felt himself blushing too. Damn it, that was exactly why he hadn't brought up children before. Her voice had lost that easy laughing quality when she replied. As you say, sir. Joseph cleared his throat uncomfortably and changed the topic,

steering her towards the house and the door he had left standing open. Come, allow me to show you your new home. Joseph opened the door with a little flourish and led Lavinia into the foyer. He was pleased to see her eyes widen as she gazed around the space. The house was already in. impressive. The room was immense. Its dimensions those of a good-sized ballroom and featured a pair of graceful curving staircases that lit up to either side of a gallery located on the second floor. The boards beneath their feet were built of hickory that had been polished until it glowed.

A fire blazed in the cavernous hearth and a set of antlers, the ones harvested from the first buck he had brought home to his father hung above the mantle. The space would need more furnishings, but choosing rugs and chairs and the like was a chore he planned to entrust to its bride. A tall woman with iron-gray hair stood waiting for them. She wore an apron starched within an inch of its life over a dress of the same dark gray as the hair she had pulled into a tight bun. This is my housekeeper, Mrs. Newcomb. Newcomb, this is Miss Lavinia, who will soon become my wife.

It's a pleasure to meet you, Newcomb. The dower-faced woman nodded stiffly. Joseph helped Lavinia out of her cloak and handed it to the housekeeper who accepted it without comment. Newcomb has been indispensable in getting the house up and running. I don't know how I would have got on without her. I'm sure the two of you will get along famously. In the yawning gloom of the cavernous foyer and under Newcomb's silently steely gaze, Levinia thought that she was sure of no such thing.

The uneasy, unsettled feelings she had experienced that she stepped onto the grounds was, if anything, even stronger inside the house. But she smiled demurely and nodded. Then Bland began leading her towards a door at one end of the foyer, and the housekeeper withdrew. Let me show you to your room. The door, as it turned out, led into the tower she had noticed from outside. A spiral staircase led up the structure to their left,

while the doorway ahead of them opened onto a round room with three wide windows placed at regular intervals. To his relief, this was a bright airy room, which had been furnished with a small riding desk and a comfortable-looking sofa set before a fireplace constructed of the same red brick as the house. Blan led her past this room, up the spiral staircase to a door on the second floor.

He turned the knob and thrust the door open, ushering her inside. Levinia's hope chest had been placed at the foot of a double bed laid with a blue coverlet. A quilt had been folded across its footboard. A round mirror with a pewter frame hung above a sturdy chest of drawers across from them, and a blue ceramic vase at one corner held a handful of daffodils. There was a tall wardrobe against the wall to the right of the bed, and her other trunk had been placed next to it.

Here we are. This will be your room, at least until we're married. I slept here myself last winter, and I can assure you, it's quite cozy. I asked Newcomb to tidy it up for you. You give it a bit of a woman's touch. But of course you're welcome to decorate it. you see fit. Levinia let out a breath, and a tightness in her chest she hadn't quite noticed eased somewhat. She shouldn't have been concerned, she thought. Mr. Bland had come to her uncle and asked for her hand, all very proper and above board. And he had never behaved as less than a gentleman.

He hadn't given her any reason to suspect he intended anything untoward, but it was unusual he hadn't simply married her before he left Maryland. She bitter lip, her anxiety returning, as She set the basket holding her cat down on top of the hope chest and gazed around the room. Finally, she turned back to him. I feel I must ask, sir, when are we to be married? She expected the man to bluster, to take offense that she had dared question him, but Joseph Blan seemed oddly pleased. He smiled. I understand your concern, Miss Lavinia, and I assure you I have no interest in besmirching your reputation.

As soon as I can manage it, I promise you, will be wed. It all depends on the house. The house? Yes, I want us to be married here on the estate I'm building. I intended to be the grandest wedding anyone has ever seen, so the house has to be finished, perfect, before the ceremony can take place. You and I will set the bar for every wedding this state has seen or ever we'll see. To Lavinia, that sounded like an awful burden to place on one home and one event, but seeing the way Blan's eyes lit up when he spoke of it, she couldn't help but smile and return. His excitement seemed so sincere, and it was hard not to feel it Kendall in her own breast

in answer. A simple ceremony at the local church would satisfy me, but if it will make you happy, then I will do my best to make you proud, sir. To her surprise, he clasped her hands and pulled her close to him. Let's dispense with the formalities, Levinia, dear, we are to be married after all. right then. All you need to do is meet me at the altar. You will make the most beautiful bride anyone has ever seen. I'm sure of it. Levinia could feel her cheeks heating up and she laughed nervously, her eyes dropping to their joined hands. If you say so, Joseph. Joseph smiled again at the use of his given name, gratified at this small gesture of acquiescence. Levinia, was a virtuous and demure young lady, and she would make a good and obedient wife.

He felt that pull towards her, a possessive sort of hunger. And impulsively, he leaned down to kiss the flush on one of her soft cheeks, then in deference to the modesty she had so quaintly expressed. He took a quick step back to restore a socially appropriate distance. This room and the sitting room below are yours to do with as you should. choose, speak to Newcomb if there's anything you need to make yourself more comfortable. She'll see to it. The room above this one is my personal study. I'll leave you to get settled and you can find me there when you're ready to tour the rest of the house. Joseph withdrew from the room

closing the door behind him and Lavinia settled down on the bed with a sigh, sensing that there were no more strangers in the room as he pushed his head against the lid of the wicker basket and poked his head out, his green eyes scanning the room before he hopped out onto the hope chest. He was a good-sized cat. Around 13 pounds the last time Lavinia had weighed him on the scale in her father's shop, with long black fur and a noble, handsome face. He placed his paws on the bed, digging his claws into the quilt for a big stretch before jumping up onto it and making his way to her.

The black cat crawled onto the pillow behind his mistress's head and began to purr. Lavinia closed her eyes wearily. She hadn't wanted the first words she spoke to her betrothed upon arrival to be ones of complaint, but the journey of Kentucky had been far more taxing than she led on, combined with her uneasiness and the understandable awkwardness between her and this stranger to whom she had been betrothed, she was grateful to have a few moments alone. Before she knew it, she had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep.

As he licked a stray lock of her blonde hair back into place, and snuggled close to her. His green eyes on the door. Well, hey there, family. We're venturing deeper into the darkness of Lonely Creek, and I'm glad y'all are coming with us. What horrors lie and wait for that sweet young thing in the cranberry-colored cloak?

What could have turned her into the green-eyed monster who's ravaged our Appalachia for the past several seasons? Well, I guess y'all just have to come back and find out, now won't you? I bet you will. Now some of y'all may remember that Miss Levinia appeared in the second story we ever told in the place we now call the holler. Our paid subscription service with that lovely lady, first step from the shadows of the two-part slasher classic, The Door Under the Floor.

That tale and so many others are available for your listening enjoyment for a reasonable monthly or annual sum, whether it's the saga of the family bogs recounted and build mama coughed and blackmouthed dog or the haunted lives of the boys out on Jemson Creek Road and unhallowed grounds. These haunts and many more are waiting to join you in The Holler. Just head on over to Old Gods of Appalachia.com slash The Holler to move in today. If you prefer to show your allegiance to a certain dark thing or green bloodline by wearing it proudly on your chest, you can head on over to our merch store where T-shirts, tanks, shorts, and other various and sundry home goods bearing the marks of your favorite denizens of Old Gods of Appalachia

are waiting for you to take them home. Just go browse. I bet you find yourself something nice over at merch. Dot Old Gods of Appalachia.com. And family, this is your what's it going to take to turn those gray eyes green reminder that Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of Deep Nerd Media

and is distributed by Rusty Quill. Today's story was written by Cam Collins. Our intro music is by Brother Landon Blood and our outro music is by our new family in Lunar Grove. Go check the show notes for a link to download this beautiful new track wherever you go. The voice of Miss Levinia was Cam Collins. And the voice of Joseph Bland was Willie Repelie.

Talk to you soon, family. Talk to you real soon.