Page 57 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
I arrived home as the sky began to cloud up again, rising above the tall brick town houses from the latter part of the last century that flanked the narrow cobblestone street. Mr. Owen’s residence took up the better part of the block, with a high iron fence blocking it from the street. I’d never in my life been happier to return here. Not since I first stood in this very spot on the sidewalk answering a newspaper advertisement. House for let, it said. Oh, I’d listened to the obsequious man who arrived before me, as he lectured Mr. Owen on how badly he’d kept up the old place. How the whole thing should bedemolished and built again. It was obscene the things he’d said to Mr. Owen.
I tucked a sleeping Fiachna back into the luncheon basket and lifted it out of the car before walking up the granite steps. A large bronze knocker in the shape of the Green Man sat in the center of the black enameled door. I’d scarcely gotten my key in the lock when it flew open.
Mr. Owen stood there in his dressing gown, barefooted and looking as if he’d not slept in days. “I read all about it in the papers, my girl.” His weathered old hand moved up to cup my cheek. His eyes were glassy as if he’d been weeping. “My poor lamb. What have they done to you?” In an uncharacteristic show of affection, he wrapped his arms around me, squeezing the breath right out of my lungs. In the last three years I’d shared his home, he’d never given me more than a tap on the shoulder or chuck on the chin as a reflection of his sentiment.
He held me there for several seconds, smelling of pipe smoke and old leather, before stepping back and shaking his head, but I couldn’t mistake the wetness he wiped from his eyes. “I shall have a word with Mr. Kivell about this.”
“It’s thanks to him I’m not any worse.”
“Oh, lass…” His voice cracked as he held my face in both his hands.
I shifted my basket-of-cat, eager to rid myself of my uninvited traveling companion. “Do you mind if I come in? We’re making a scene here.” It was then that he noticed the curious gaze of Mrs. Grimshaw, the greatest gossip in all of Exeter, craning her neck from across the street to watch our little tableau.
He grumbled beneath his breath about nosy bits of baggage and opened the door wider, ushering me in.
“You said something about the papers…?” I’d not seen a newspaperman, only heard of one being in town. But I hadbeen rather preoccupied in my short stay in Lothlel Green between the murder and my brush with death.
“Have you not heard? It’s all over the country about the Pellar and the Heiress.”
A ball of bile rose in my throat. I’d spent over a decade of my life blissfully out of the headlines only to be suddenly thrown back in the fray, and for reasons not of my own doing. “What are they saying?”
Mr. Owen took me by the arm, leading me down the hall. “The usual. Mostly it’s Kivell they’re interested in—poor lad—but it has the press in an uproar. You know how it is. Ever since the war ended, the occult has been all the rage. I’d be shocked if the lad won’t be fighting off the charlatans before long.”
“By the way, I am very cross with you on that score, you could have at least warned me what I was headed into.”
The old man had the temerity to look offended. “Me? You know good and well if I’d told you about Ruan you’d have never set foot into Lothlel Green. Besides, Ididsay he was a folk healer.”
He had me there. I wasn’t about to tell him about the strange connection between Ruan and me; he’d get ideas. And it was never a good thing when Mr. Owen hadideas.
“I do regret it, though. I had no idea I was sending you into danger. Had I known, I’d never have let you go. I’ve lost too many children to risk you as well.”
“I’m not your child.”
He didn’t respond, only tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and continued down the black-and-white-marble-tiled foyer hall. A fine sheen of dust had taken up residence in my absence. Mr. Owen must not have procured a replacement for our housekeeper yet. I rested my head on his shoulder as we followed the faint glow of light to his study, feeling wearier by the instant.
“What are your thoughts on what happened to Sir Edward?”
He nodded grimly as he settled himself into his chair and picked up his pipe, taking a puff from it. “Terrible business, curses.”
“It’s a disaster. What are they saying about him? I haven’t the energy to read.”
“Then sleep, lass. There’s nothing in the papers that won’t keep till morning.” He waved a hand dismissively. “All they’re saying is that it’s stumped the local constabulary. ‘Man or Mythical Beast’ I believe is how they’ve been referring to it when they aren’t commenting on the war-hero-turned-warlock.” Smoke curled languidly up from his pipe. My eyes drifted upward with it to the dark wood-paneled ceiling, not so different from those at Penryth, and yet the two buildings were worlds apart. The townhome was comfortable, a grand lady in dishabille after a night of debauchery. Whereas Penryth was an older relation swathed in mourning crepe and drowning in her own grief.
“I don’t believe a word of it. What really happened out there, Ruby? Tell me.”
I shook my head. Unable to speak of it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’d tell him everything. I curled up in a large leather chair in front of the fireplace and rested my head on the high back. “Have you had any luck replacing Mrs. Adams?”
“As if you don’t have more important things to concern yourself with.”
“I concern myself with your comfort. And my own prospects for a proper breakfast. I have grown very spoiled by Tamsyn’s housekeeper. I should have nicked some ginger biscuits before I left.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Not as of yet, girl. Not as of yet. I’m glad you’re home again. I don’t care for the idea of you all alone out there with murderers afoot.”
I yawned sleepily, pulling a soft knit blanket over my lap. “I’m not alone. I have Ruan. Besides, you’ll have to get used to it as I’m back to Lothlel Green in the morning. I’m only here for the night. Is Dr. Heinrich in town? I’ve come to beg a favor of him.”
“Are you feeling poorly? I would have thought Ruan would have mended you if something was amiss.”
“No, no. We want him to look at Sir Edward’s body. Get his opinion on things.”
