Page 14 of The Secret of Drulea Cottage
The other men at the table, who hadn’t even realized Briony was there, suddenly jerked back.
“Briony Fairborn! Angus, did you let that witch into my house?” Mr. Levins asked.
Adaira put her hands on her hips and glared at the old man. “She’s no witch, Mr. Levins. She’s my friend, and she needs yer help.”
“We’re quite busy, much too busy to help her. Besides, she might put a curse on us!”
“Aye, yer na welcome here!” shouted Steven McLaren, raising his fist.
Mr. Levins turned to his friend. “Yer na the owner o’ this house, Steven! Don’ speak like you are!”
“Yer only mad because yer losing, Steven!” added Mr. McGuff.
“I ain’t losing, McGuff!”
At that point, the conversation devolved into senseless arguing. Briony sighed in annoyance, already regretting her decision to come here.
Adaira marched up to the footlocker and slammed her hand down on it. “Anyone who can tell us what we need to know gets free dinners fer a fortnight.”
Everyone stopped speaking so quickly it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The men glanced at each other and then at Briony.
“What sort o’ information do you need?” Mr. McGuff asked.
“I need to know more about my background. Especially about where my family comes from, or if my mother ever lived somewhere besides Everton.”
“Curious about yer family? Many people have been mighty curious about yer family ever since yer great-grandmother Edith came to Everton. Just a bunch o’ good-fer-nothing strumpets, if you ask me!” Mr. Levins said.
Briony drew in a sharp breath and stomped toward the group.
Adaira clasped her friend’s shoulder to calm her down. “Besidesthat, what can you tell us?”
“Edith was always quiet, kept to herself. My parents never liked her much,” chipped in Mr. McGuff. “They suspected she was a runaway.”
“And then when people knew she was with child, nobody wanted to talk to her. I was only a boy at the time, but I remember all the adults warning their bairns to stay away from her. Especially the girls,” added Mr. Dunnet.
“Did anyone ever speak o’ where she came from?” Adaira asked.
“Aye, some people thought she came from France because o’ her complexion. Others said Italy or Spain,” replied Mr. Levins.
“And o’ course, there were the rumors,” mentioned Mr. Dunnet.
“Rumors?” Briony asked. Adaira gave her a hard look, no doubt trying to remind Briony of her promise to let Adaira do the talking.
“Surely you must know what they used to say. Yer mother must have told you,” Mr. McGuff said.
Briony shook her head.
Mr. McLaren, the only one who hadn’t spoken since Adaira made her offer, grunted in clear disbelief. He crossed his arms over his chest and muttered something about “filthy liars,” but no one in the room paid him any mind.
“People used to say they saw her out on the beach late at night, singing to the ocean. She had the most beautiful voice. Like an angel,” Mr. McGuff explained.
“Or a fairy,” remarked Mr. Levins. “A few people thought she was one o’ the Fair Folk and that was why she sang.”
“Freaky odd, she was,” grumbled Mr. McLaren.
Briony frowned as she took in their words. “What about my mother? Was she always here in Everton? Did she ever move somewhere else?”
“Na that I remember,” said Mr. Levins. “Any o’ the rest o’ you remember a time when Bethany Fairborn left Everton?”
