Page 81 of The Virtuoso
Val closed his eyes—wouldnothinggorightthisday? “We will pull crews from the house to work on the barn.”
“Makes sense. You’ve got an entire wing under roof now here, and the other wing isn’t in immediate danger of disintegration.”
“Tomorrow I’ll look over the hay barn with you first thing, and we can make a more detailed plan. For now, I want to get Ellen off her feet, dunk my stinking carcass in the pond, then find some sleep.”
“Long day,” Darius said. “Maybe there will be some good news from yourinvestigator.”
“Fuck you, Lindsey,” Val replied with a weary smile.
“So many wish they could.” Darius swished his hips a little as he strode off, and Val felt a smile tugging at his mouth. He set the envelope on his cot in the carriage house and returned to the springhouse just as the boys were clearing the table.
“You.” Val put a hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “Remain seated. Your day has been busy enough. How is your room?”
“Lovely. It’s as big as my entire cottage, though.”
“So enjoy it. Have you wash water there?”
“Phillip and Dayton made sure I have every possible comfort.” She gave him a semblance of a smile, but her eyes were tired, and Val found it just wasn’t in him to force small talk on her.
“Come.” Val took her by the hand and laced his fingers with hers, not caring who saw, what they thought of it, or what ribbing they might try to give him later. When he and Ellen left the springhouse, he put an arm around her waist and tucked her close to his body. That she went willingly, despite all the eyes on them, alarmed Val more than her fatigue or her quiet.
He dropped his arm to usher her into the house. “What’s really wrong?”
She paused, and if he hadn’t been watching her with close concern, he might have missed the effort she made to compose her features.
“My cottage was all I had. It was my home, my refuge, where I grieved, and where I healed. It has been violated.”
He regarded her in silence then led her up the stairs to her bedroom. In a single day, it had gone from being an empty chamber to a cozy, inviting nest. Embroidered pillows from the cottage told Val whose nest it was, and the fluffy bed tempted him beyond endurance. He led her out to the balcony, which sported two wooden rockers padded with embroidered cushions.
“We need to talk,” Val said, settling her in one rocker. It took all his willpower not to scoop her into his lap and just hold her, but that wouldn’t solve anything, except maybe the vague, relentless anxiety he’d been feeling since Axel had pulled him into the library a couple nights ago.
“I am really quite tired,” Ellen replied, but Val saw more than fatigue in her eyes.
“You are really quite sad,” he countered, “and upset. We’re going to repair your cottage in no time, and it will be better than new. What is the real problem, Ellen?”
He wanted her to tell him and before he opened that packet from Hazlit, or received any others.
She just shook her head.
“You pitched the pennyroyal out the window. You would never harm something growing, much less growing and tender.”
“God.” She clutched her arms around her middle but shook her head again.
“Ellen…” Val’s voice was low, pleading. “I stink like a drover two hundred miles from home, or I’d come hold you, but you have to tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t.” She still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“You won’t,” Val countered tiredly. “I did not want to tell you this, but if you look closely at the tree that fell on your cottage, you’ll see it toppled partway but then was cut at the base—in essence, it was pushed onto your roof. Maybe whoever did it knew you were from home, maybe not. Somebody, it appears, has succeeded in scaring the hell out of you, Ellen, and that scares the hell out of me.”
He could not stand one more moment of her silence, so he stood and passed a gentle hand over the back of her head. “The house is entirely secured on the first floor. I’ll come check on you later.”
She clutched his hand and tucked her forehead against his thigh but said nothing, leaving Val to stroke his hand over her hair once again then depart in silence. He made his way through the darkened house, careful to lock the front door behind him, and then found himself on the path toward the pond. He changed his mind, doubled back, and retrieved Hazlit’s packet, taking it to the sleeping porch on the second floor of the carriage house to read by lantern light.
When Nick and Darius returned from their swim, Val was still sitting in the shadows, Hazlit’s missive open on his lap.
“Bad news?” Nick asked, sinking down to rest his back against the porch railing.
“Here.” Darius waved a bottle before Val’s eyes. “This is bad news too, but not until tomorrow morning, and only if Nick and I let you get drunk.”
