Page 6 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
I checked my pin watch and snapped it shut. A habit that irritated Tamsyn when we were younger. She was always convinced I’d break the thing if I wasn’t careful. I was late for supper already, but there was nothing for it. Just as I resolved to leave, and set the car into gear, something meowed. Yes. It was definitely a meow. I looked around, glancing over at the basket in the seat beside me just as it shifted and I heard the sound again.
Cautiously, I lifted the lid and out popped Fiachna, stretching as he extricated himself from his makeshift bed, one paw at a time. Crumbs from bits of my lunch stuck to his crooked whiskers as he rubbed against me. There was no end of surprises for me today. I scratched his ears. Well, I certainly hoped Tamsyn’s housekeeper was fond of errant felines.
SOME TWENTY MINUTESlater, I stood on the great stone portico of Penryth Hall. The wind howled across the hills, catching the still-damp hem of my skirt and plastering it to my legs. A deep fog gathered, rising up from the fields below, casting the world behind me in muted shades. Just as I lifted my hand to the great bronze knocker, the door opened, revealing an elderly woman some forty years my senior with silvery hair bound up into a tight bun at the back of her head. She wore a drawn expression, her weary eyes tracing over me top tobottom, before settling upon the mewling basket in my arms. She looked vaguely familiar, though she ought to, as I’d been here three years before. But my memories of the wedding were murky at best.
“You’re late, maid.” The woman frowned.
Other women of my station would have likely taken umbrage at her familiarity, but she was most certainly correct. Tardiness was one habit I couldn’t shake. “I was…” I racked my brain, struggling for an excuse other than the truth. “Detained.”
“The master hates tardiness,” she muttered beneath her breath. Something flashed across her face, a half thought that disappeared into the gathering mist. “But he’ll have to wait. You can’t very well show up for supper dressed as you are. I’ll show you to your room to freshen up. They’ve waited half an hour, I daresay they can wait another.”
I followed the anxious housekeeper through the halls of Penryth, cavernous and dark. She muttered to herself the names of the ordinary rooms as we passed, almost a litany rather than a tour. Library. Morning room. Dining hall. The dark umber curtains were pulled tight against the outside world, shutting out any prayer of light. We passed each door at a brisk clip, going up the stairs to the farthest corner of the third floor. Out of sight, out of mind.
“You’ll be comfortable enough in here, my lover.” She smiled at me faintly. A memory tugged at me. One I couldn’t quite place.
“You don’t remember, do you?” she asked, brushing my hair back from my brow. The sensation altogether too familiar. I’d been here before. In this room. With this woman. I knew her voice. “Probably for the best. Some memories are best forgotten.” She cleared her throat and straightened, snipping the tie to the past and knotting the thread tight. “The mistressoften uses this room. She prefers the view of the orchard to her own. It’s her favorite place on the estate.” The old housekeeper’s voice softened at mention of Tamsyn. At least Tamsyn had one ally in this great monstrosity of a house. The housekeeper crossed the room, her dark-gray skirts rustling as she pulled the curtains wide, filling the room with golden evening light.
It was a grim yet serviceable space. Everything in this godforsaken place was grim. I’d forgotten quite how dreadful it was. With dark wood paneling and a bed that looked large enough for Henry VIII and at least three of his wives to occupy concurrently. I set my small valise down in the corner, along with Fiachna’s basket. Faint snoring emanated from inside. Dreadful little stowaway.
“Do you need anything?” she asked with a pause, her hand on the doorframe, lines etched deep in her face.
I smiled halfheartedly and shook my head. There was nothing at all she could give me now.
“AH,MISSVAUGHN, you’ve arrived at long last. We feared you’d changed your mind about joining us.” Sir Edward didn’t bother standing to acknowledge my presence, as any proper gentleman would do when a member of the opposite sex entered. Instead he gestured to a seat on the far side of the table without ever meeting my gaze.
“Sir Edward.” His name dripped like acid from my tongue. “It’s lovely to see you too.” I crossed the room to take the proffered chair.
“I was just observing how Americans seem to lack the ability to tell time. Wasn’t I, my love?” His gaze went from me to Tamsyn, who sat across from him pale and shrunken. Her once vibrant green eyes now fixed on the plate before her. She didn’t respond.
He stabbed at a lone parsnip with a silver-tined fork. The bone handle clenched in his tanned fingers. “So what have you been about in all these years? I seem to recall last time you were at Penryth you caused quite the stir. I hope we aren’t to expect a repeat performance?” he asked, biting into it with an audible snap.
His words struck a guilty chord, just as he’d intended. I didn’t recall what had happened here, but between his barb and the housekeeper’s concern it must have been quite the scene indeed.
On the whole, I supposed Sir Edward Chenowyth wasn’t an unattractive man. Unappealing, yes, but even considering the fact he was a good twenty years our senior, he kept in good form and had his hair and all his own teeth as far as I could tell. An active, vigorous fellow that one might even like if he had anything resembling a tolerable personality. For it was his temperament that made him insufferable. That inborn belief that he was superior to all around him by the sheer happenstance of blood.
“Well?” His word was clipped.
“I’m renting a house in Exeter now, working at a bookstore.”
“A bookstore? How terribly common. Then again, wasn’t your father in trade?” He knew good and well it was Tamsyn’s father who made his fortune in commerce. I didn’t dare look to see how she fared, for fear I’d lose my temper, which was already on an increasingly taut tether.
“Nothing so industrious as all that. I’m afraid he made his fortune in speculation.”
Sir Edward grimaced and shook his head before turning back to his plate with another irritated stab at his food. Excellent.
“A gambler, I’m afraid. Surely you know the sort.”
He made an almost choking sound but swallowed it down, his face pinker than it had been a few moments before. A thinsheen of sweat appeared at his brow. Good. The bastard deserved a bit of what he doled out.
I chanced a glance at Tamsyn. A mistake. Sitting there at the table with her hands folded meekly in her lap, she was nothing more than the delicate shell of the girl I’d known so well. And in all my life, all my journeys, and all the people I’d encountered, I’d never wanted to kill a man more. To drive the meat fork sitting in the roast joint straight into his skull for what he’d done to her. Tamsyn had never been outspoken, instead allowing others to lead, but she’d always had a vivacity that I’d admired. No. That I’d loved. And he’d all but snuffed it out like a candle at the end of a too-late dinner party. With only a wisp of smoke as evidence it’d ever burned at all.
Edward made a rather unpleasant sound. That slight beading of sweat had now turned to full perspiration. He dabbed at his brow with a crisp white handkerchief and cleared his throat. Clumsily he slid his chair back from the table. Banging into it, making the crystal clatter. “I think I shall take some air before retiring for the evening. I’m not feeling quite well.”
Good riddance.
Tamsyn murmured something to him that might have passed for concern. He pressed a kiss to her brow and departed. As the door snicked shut, she quickly straightened and reached out for the roast joint, slicing off a chunk and setting it onto an empty plate. I eyed it, rather thinking twice of eating.
“Parsnips?”
