“Poor Mr. Roscoe,” he agreed, glancing down. He fiddled with his empty cup. “You’re nearly alone now yourself, since your parents died, are you not?”
I stared, wondering how he knew. I supposed he would have information from his “agent” when he wanted it, though I couldn’t imagine why he would interest himself inme. I recalled what Mrs. Moyle had said.Did it occur to you that he might have been curious about you?
“That’s right,” I replied. “It’s just Jack and me.”
“That must have made your life much harder.”
“In some ways. But we were nearly grown when they died. Mostly I just miss them.” Feeling a familiar ache in my throat, I drained the last of my tea.
“You have no other family in Roche?”
I shook my head. “My mother’s family are all in Ireland. Her parents lived here since before I was born, but they’re both gone now. Da’s parents and two brothers went up north to the cotton mills. They wanted us to go, too, and they quarreled with Da over it. We haven’t heard from them in years.”
I noticed his features had softened as he said, “But you and Jack manage on your own well enough?”
This wasn’t an easy question to answer, and I somehow got the sense he knew that. “I’m grateful for Jack,” I said. “We’re twins, and we’ve always been close. But both of us have changed since our parents died. We don’t always agree about things.”
“I don’t imagine he would like you beinghere.”
I laughed wearily. “He doesn’t really like me being anywhere except home.” Although this was true, I had a feeling that Jack would, in fact, go up in flames of rage if he knew where I was.
“Perhaps Jack’s afraid of losing you, too.”
I met my host’s gaze, still focused softly on my face, and felt a stab of guilt. It was possible I’d been somewhat blinded by my anger and hurt feelings.
“You could be right,” I said. “The world feels somehow bigger since I started working at The Magpie. All Jack has is what he’s always had—the mine.”And the bottle.“I’ve assumed he holds that against me. Maybe it’s not as simple as that.”
“I think things rarely are.”
Offering a careful smile, I said, “I suppose being a hundred years old has made you wise.”
I only meant to tease him, but his gaze dropped, and though my head still hurt and I shrank from the idea of going out in the rain, I felt like I was wearing my welcome thin.
“I thank you for the tea, Mr. Tregarrick,” I said, stirring in my chair. “I’m feeling much better, and I should probably get home.”
Now his gaze lifted, seeming to pin me in place as a rumble of thunder charged the air. “Forgive me if I seem cold or inhospitable, Miss Penrose. I fear I’ve lived alone so long my manners have suffered.”
Some of my worry seeped away as I laughed. “I deal with ‘ill-mannered’ enough to know it when I see it. You have some of the finest manners I’ve ever seen.”
His smile was doubtful.
“You seem to know all about me, Mr. Tregarrick,” I ventured, “and I confess I’ve always been curious aboutyou.”
The doubtful smile lingered. “Indeed?”
“Well, our cottage is on the edge of your estate. Jack once told me an old sorcerer lived up here.”
My host’s smile broadened. “Perhaps he’s right.”
“Well, supposing he is, what does an old sorcererdoup here all alone, day in and day out?”
“The truth is that ‘old sorcerer’ is not far off. I’m an alchemist.”
I frowned, not recognizing the word. “What does an alchemist do, then?”
“The aim of alchemy is transmutation. Performing a series of actions on a substance with the hope of changing it into a different substance.”
“I don’t think I follow,” I said meekly, ashamed of my ignorance.
