Page 46 of The Last Heir to Blackwood Library

All she wanted to do was to lie down, but the bedspread was still damp from where Ralph had doused her with water. Had that really only been a few hours ago? She was locked in a room. Ralph was incapacitated, maybe even dead. Wherever Mr. and Mrs. Hewitt were, they hadn’t been able to secure the manuscript. Ivy had to assume that Arthur and the Sphinxes had found them and likewise injured them. The library was...alive? She wasn’t certain she understood everything Mrs. Hewitt had said, but it didn’t matter if it was true or not. What was important was that Arthur clearly believed it was true, and he was willing to lie and even kill to get what he wanted.

As if summoned by her thoughts, there was the scrape of a key in the lock, and then the door swung open, revealing her fiancé.

Arthur’s eyes darted about the room before landing on Ivy, something like relief passing over his face. There was a sheen of perspiration on his temples, and his shirt was crumpled, his Rudolph Valentino hair mussed. “Darling,” he said in a rush of breath. “Thank God you’re safe.”

Her body was tired, her mind aching for something familiar. Relief spread through her, and her whole body sagged in on itself. He had come to save her. Everything had been lies, or at the very least a terrible misunderstanding. He would explain it all, and someday they would look back at this night and shake their heads in wonder.

“Arthur.” Ivy closed the distance between them, collapsing into his arms. “I thought... I thought that...” Emotion choked in her throat, robbing her of words.

But her relief was short-lived. Arthur didn’t say anything, and when he drew back, there was a hard set to his face, and he wouldn’t meet her eye.

“Youhavecome to get me out of here, haven’t you?” she managed to ask.

Raking a hand through his already disheveled hair, he shook his head. “Ivy, I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. It was never my intention to have you witness anything unpleasant.”

Ivy took a jerky step back and bumped into the side of the bed. “No,” she whispered.

Arthur lowered himself into the chair in the corner and lit a cigarette. When he caught her glancing at the closed door, he gave her a sad smile. “It’s locked, with a man on the other side guarding it,” he told her. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the moment.”

“Arthur,” she said slowly, “I need you to tell me everything.”

He yanked at his tie, loosening the elaborate knot. “God, Ivy, I don’t want to be the one to explain this messy business to you. You’re a clever girl, aren’t you? Certainly you’ve put the pieces together by now.”

She forced her words out from between gritted teeth. “You’re the one who drugged me and is holding me hostage, so the very least you could do is explain why I’m here and what’s happening.”

He gave a deep sigh. “Very well. What do you want to know?”

There were a thousand more important questions, but the only one she could bring herself to ask was, “Why did you ask me to marry you? Was it for me, or for the library?”

Elbows on knees, Arthur leaned over and scrubbed at his bloodshot eyes. “You, of course. Always you, darling.”

“I don’t believe you. Mrs. Hewitt told me everything. That the library contains a manuscript that has all sorts of knowledge in it. The secret to eternal life, things that men would kill for. You and your family want it, and used me to get it.”

“The old hag told you that, did she?” Arthur sat back deeper into the chair, tenting his fingers in thought, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Well, she’s not wrong I suppose. This would be best done with a drink,” he said, looking about as if he expected one to materialize in his hand. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that Blackwood was special. During the Dissolution, a genius monk lived here. He could turn metal into gold, cure all sorts of diseases and ailments. He traveled to the mountains of Italy where he learned the secrets of the friars and ancient orders of monks.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the story,” she said.

He looked surprised. “And you remembered it? Well, then I’m not sure what you want me to tell you.”

“Mrs. Hewitt said that the library drains memories and somehow adds them into its collection. All the Lords Hayworth died young. Is that what you want? To die for this...this thing?”

“That’s why I have you, darling.” Arthur took a long pull from the cigarette, an elegant finger tapping the ash into a bowl. “You’re a Hayworth, however thin the connection. The library will feed on you before ever turning on me, and by that time, I’ll have employed another librarian. It has a taste for you, I think. You’ve spent so much time there already, are so weakened.”

“But it will kill me!”

“Death comes for us all eventually. Every soldier knows that. Just think of the glory, the nobility in it. You’re contributing to something bigger than yourself, bigger than all of us. Think of it as a war against ignorance, and you are on the front line, a soldier fighting for progress.”

“And after me? Who do you think the library will take next?”

“We’ll find someone, don’t worry yourself over that. There will always be those who are eager to enlist for a worthy cause.”

Standing, Arthur stubbed out his cigarette and clapped his hands together. “Well, as much as I have enjoyed chatting, I had best be going. I just wanted to make certain that you were unharmed. There are preparations to be made and research to be done.”

“Arthur.” Forcing aside her revulsion, Ivy went to him, placing a hand against his chest. It was warm and hard and had once felt like a refuge. “Let me help. I can make the wedding plans, help with the library and make sure everything goes smoothly.”

He looked down at her, pity in his eyes. But it quickly passed. “You’re a gem for offering, but I think it best you stay here until the wedding.”

She dropped her hand. “You can’t keep me prisoner!”

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