A wave of confusion—and a dull, sickening throb on the side of my head—brought me fully awake.
Peeking out from the blanket, I discovered the light was all wrong. Across the room I saw an unfamiliar window, its casement partly open and a candle burning on the sill. A wine-colored velvet curtain hung heavily to one side, tied back with a gold cord. Rain fell against the window’s outer sill (the reason for the dripping sound) as thunder rumbled over the downs. The smell of the place, too, was strange—spirits, herbs, and something that reminded me of church.Cold stone and incense.
Where am I?!
I sat up quickly, and the room spun. My head throbbed again, and I groaned.
Footsteps sounded on a creaking floor above me.
“Hello?” I called out hoarsely.
At one end of the room was a stone stairway that curved to an upper floor. A man was coming down, and my heart nearly jumped out of my throat.
“All is well, Miss Penrose.”
Mr. Tregarrick!It came to me suddenly that I was inside the old chapel.Inside Roche Rock.The walls of this smallish, square room were mostly covered with paintings and tapestries, but I could see the black stone between them. How could this be?
Reaching to touch my left temple, I found a lump. The skin was sticky, and when I looked at my fingers, I saw a smear of blood.
My gaze darted back to Mr. Tregarrick, who was watching me closely from the foot of the stairs, where he’d stopped. He stood very still, as if afraid of frightening me away.Like a fox watches a rabbit.
“What—what has happened, sir?” I asked in a quavering voice.
His lips curved down. “I was hoping you could tellme.”
I pushed back against the fear coiling around my brain, making it hard to think.The pool. The slab. The startled magpie.“I fell,” I choked out. “I ... No. Something knocked me down.”
“And did you see it?”
I shook my head, causing another wave of dizziness.
In a voice low and calm, Mr. Tregarrick said, “I will tell you what I can, Miss Penrose. But first, there is water on the table for cleaning your wound. I’ve added quintessence of usnea—of old man’s beard—to prevent putrefaction.”
Following his gesture, I saw a washbasin and cloth on a tea table beside me. Though I was still bewildered, my heart slowed as I began to accept that there was no present danger.
The chair I rested in had a long seat, very much like one in the tearoom that Mrs. Moyle called a reading chair. The room around me was richly furnished, with white taper candles burning in each window and on every surface. A fire blazed away in the hearth, near my chair, and under the casement that I’d noticed on first waking was a small dining table. Two regular armchairs also rested near the hearth, covered in the same dark-red fabric as most of the room’s other furnishings. I guessed that the chapel’s upper floor, with its stained glass window facing east, must have served as the bedchamber.
My eyes moved again to Mr. Tregarrick, who still had not shifted an inch.
“How have I come to be here, sir?”
He let out a quiet sigh and seemed to steady himself before taking two steps toward me—and suddenly stopping. I noticed his dress was very different from the first time I’d seen him. This clothing, though just as neat and clean, seemed dated to my eye—fawn breeches, black boots, and a billowy white shirt with ruffles at the neck, like a character in one of Miss Austen’s books might have worn. He wore no waistcoat or cravat, but the lawn of his shirt was soft looking and very fine. His wavy hair was gathered and bound, as before. The smoky spectacles were missing, and he looked younger without them.
Had I seen him passing in the village, my eyes would have followed.
Yet his gaze—gleaming and keenly focused on me—caused me to tremble.
“I found you unconscious by the pool and brought you home. You haven’t been here long. Perhaps half an hour.”
“Broughtme?” Did that mean what I thought it did?
A few ticks of silence passed before he said, “Carried you. I thought it best.”
My breath stopped, my brows knit, and my jaw fell half open.He picked me up. Carried me across the heath in his arms.
It wasa lotto take in, and I sat quietly, trying. If something like that happened to a person, would they not feel it in some way afterward, even if they hadn’t been awake? My eyes moved over his arms and chest, trying to imagine my body pressed against them. A fluttering heat filled my belly.
Swallowing thickly, I managed, “Did you see any ... anycreaturenearby?”
