Page 50 of The Last Heir to Blackwood Library

When Ivy didn’t respond, Susan gave a resigned sigh and took a long sip of tea.

With nothing left to say on the matter, the rest of the meal was finished in silence. Soon, Susan would leave and Arthur would come to return Ivy to her room. How long was he planning on keeping her hostage? And what was he doing with the manuscript? What sort of horrors might be released at any moment? She wasn’t certain what was going to happen, but she knew she had to buy herself time, as much time as she could.

“Would you like to see the library before you leave?” she asked Susan as they stood.

“If it means I can spend a little more time with you, then yes, by all means.”

Ivy rang the bell, and Mercer materialized from the doorway. He was a stocky man with little in the way of a neck, and a nose that looked as if it had taken some punches in its day. “Please tell Sir Arthur that I would like to show Susan the library before she leaves.”

They waited in awkward silence until Arthur appeared. He cast a wary glance between the two women as he came in.

“Hello, darling,” Ivy made herself say with a smile. “We had a lovely tea, and now Susan would like to see the library before she leaves.”

“I’m not certain that’s a good idea. Some of my father’s friends are in there, and I don’t think they would appreciate the interruption.”

Out of the corner of her eye Ivy could see Susan opening her mouth to argue so she swooped in. “Please? This may be the last time I see Susan before the wedding.”This may be the last time I see her at all,Ivy thought. But if she could just get Susan into the library, she might be able to slip her a message in a book. Might be able to dosomethingto alert her friend that all was not well without raising Arthur’s suspicions any further.

“I’ll escort you both,” Arthur said finally. “But you mustn’t disrupt my father or anyone in there.”

“It’s her house, isn’t it?” Susan said, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke in his direction.

Arthur’s coiled posture said that he was only barely tolerating Susan. But he gave her a tight smile. “Of course, and that’s why I am more than happy to escort you.”

They made a wordless procession across the house, Ivy forcing her sluggish mind to come up with some sort of plan. She would have written a note before she’d come downstairs, tucked it into a book, but Arthur had taken away all her paper and correspondence in her room. Her only option was to slip Susan a book, let the book speak for itself. She would have to pick something that would let Susan know that there was something amiss. But what? The wrong book could unleash more harm than good.

Now that she knew the dark nature of the library, Ivy felt as if she were seeing it for the first time. Had the air always been so heavy, the windows so sinister and watchful? Sir Mabry and some of the men from the other night were gathered round a table, backs to her. No black robes, no incantations or burning incense. They simply looked like a group of scholars engaged in intense study. They looked up sharply at the sound of the door opening.

“What is she doing in here?” Lord Mabry demanded.

“Father,” Arthur said with cool politeness, “this is Ivy’s good friend from London. She has come to visit and wanted to see the library before she goes back.”

A long look passed between father and son, but finally Sir Mabry gave a tight nod before returning to his work.

Ivy made a show of parading Susan around the library, pointing out coats of arms and architectural features. Arthur trailed them like a shadow, never more than a few feet away. But the other men had gone back to working with hushed whispers, paying no attention to Ivy and Susan. Behind their bowed backs lay the manuscript, she was sure of it. What did they see in it? What secrets might they be prying out at that very moment? Since the house had shaken, there had been little evidence of anything amiss.

Ivy led Susan to the back of the library near the great window. The cushions lining the low casements were warm and inviting, but there was no time to rest. Arthur had just turned his back for a moment to inspect a book that had caught his eye, and if she was going to slip something to Susan, it had to be now. Her movements made clumsy from the sedative, she grabbed at a book, only to have it slide through her fingers and land with a softthudon the floor.

Arthur spun around, his gaze narrowing in on her.

Susan quickly bent down and picked it up, sliding it back onto the shelf. “My fault,” she said brightly. “I’m all thumbs.”

“These are old books, Miss...”

“Loveday,” Susan supplied.

“These are old books, and very valuable, Miss Loveday,” Arthur continued. “Please do be careful.”

“Arthur!” Lord Mabry’s voice rang out from the other end of the library. “Come here a moment.”

With a lingering look of misgiving, Arthur made his way to his father, leaving the two women alone.

There wasn’t a moment to lose. Ivy opened her mouth, but her words got stuck, the entire ridiculous situation too fantastic to explain. Susan was her dearest friend, but even her capacity for understanding had limits. It had to be a book so that Susan could see the strange power for herself, and it had to be now. Ivy’s hands shook, clammy with perspiration, as she grasped at a random shelf.

Arthur turned back just as she slid the book into her cardigan pocket. “It’s getting late. Ivy, you need your rest. Perhaps it’s time to say goodbye to your friend.”

In the hall, Ivy embraced Susan, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder as she slipped the book into her purse. She committed to memory the lemony scent of Susan’s pomade and her rosewater perfume, the silky texture of her blouse under her fingertips.

“Call me, darling. Or write,” Susan said. “And you know that you’re always welcome to stay with me as long as you like. I’m staying at the King’s Head just outside the village—you can come there and stay with me, no questions asked.” She shot a glance at Arthur who was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, endeavoring to look casual while they said their goodbyes.

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