Page 22 of Hunt the Dusk
She crossed to the exit. “When you’re done, blow out the candles, and I’ll return to escort you back to your room.” She slipped away, leaving me with a trove of memories belonging to the man Ezekiel had once been.
Now where should I start? I claimed the seat at the desk laden with piles of books. Volumes of poetry and classicalliterature penned in Latin, philosophy, and oooh, what was this? A sketch book?
I flipped it open to find pencil sketches of landscapes, then a rabbit, a fox, a field of cattle, and a sparrow. All beautifully rendered. I flipped the pages and stopped on the profile of a woman. Her face was hidden by the shadow of her bonnet, but there was a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. There followed another sketch of a woman on her knees by a flowerbed, her body turned away from the observer so that her face wasn’t fully visible. Several more drawings followed of what I assumed was the same woman.
Was this Ezekiel’s wife? Had he drawn these? They were simple ink sketches, and yet there was a fluidity about them that made them feel almost alive, as if the woman on her knees by the flowerbed was a fraction of a second away from turning her head to look at me.
If Ezekiel had drawn these, then he was very talented.
I set the book down and pulled open a drawer, empty except for a small ring box and another sketch. I pulled out the box first. There was a silver band inside, thick enough to carry an engraved message. I had to carry it to the candlelight to read it.In aeternum.For eternity. Whose ring was this? It was small, so not Ezekiel’s. His wife’s maybe?
The sketch, an almost photographic style, was done in various shades of ink, and I was certain it was by a different artist to the one who’d owned the sketchbook. It was a portrait of a man and woman. I recognized Ezekiel straight away. The artist had captured his arrogantly handsome features perfectly. He was dressed in clothes from another era: hose and a shirt beneath a doublet. The woman wore a pretty headdress and a flowing white gown. It was difficult to tell the color of her hair from the inked portrait, but it wasn’t dark, and her face was slim and almost stern, her mouth unsmiling just as Ezekiel’s was.
Thiswas his wife? It had to be. This was a wedding picture; that much was obvious. I flipped it over to find the date and beneath itMe and Mary on our wedding day.
Mary…Mary Tepes. Okay…
She didn’t look too happy to be married to him. But what did I know about the style of portraits in that time—almost, what…eight hundred years ago?
I tucked it back into the drawer. So far, all I’d learned about Ezekiel was that he was moody in his wedding portrait and liked to draw…wait…the woman in the sketches…
I pulled out the drawings again and flipped to the first drawing of the woman in the bonnet. Her hair was dark, and the curve of her cheek was a sweeping oval, nothing like the angular lines of his wife’s face.
This was a different woman.
He’d been drawing her…a lot.
But who was she? A lover? An obsession from before he married Mary? Hemlock had said that Ezekiel’s wife died in childbirth, so maybe he fell for someone else after that?
I sat back and surveyed the room. There had to be more clues in here somewhere, but I was tired. The snooping would have to wait for another day.
I blew out the candles and headed for the exit to wait for Ingrid to take me back to my room.
I had the weekend off, and now I knew where I’d be spending my day.
By the time I was done, Ezekiel wouldn’t be such a mystery to me any longer, and hopefully I’d be able to summon the desire to save him.
I’d just finished gettingready for bed when there was a knock on my door. Ordell stood outside clutching a plate with a huge slice of chocolate cake on it. He was dressed in the gray joggers and cream tee that I’d come to recognize as his loungewear which meant he was ready to turn in too. Would he strip it all off and sleep in the nude? Nope. Not going there. But I bet he did. And what was with the cake? A snack before?—
“For you.” He held out the plate.
I stared at it. “Um…why?”
“You didn’t have dessert. I checked with Ingrid.”
“O-kay.” I looked from the cake up to him. “And that bothers you…why?”
He rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment, his gaze not meeting mine. “Do you want it or not?” There was a slight growl underlying his tone that sent a strange prickling up my spine.
“I mean, I’ve already brushed my teeth.”
“You can brush them again later.”
Good point. “It’s a huge piece. I won’t be able to finish it…”
He exhaled. “I’ll help you.”
“You want to share a slice of cake with me?”
