“You collapsed on the road in front of The Magpie, dear,” replied Mrs. Moyle. I’d had wits enough to go toher, at least. Roche Rock was closer to town than it was to our cottage, and Jack would have been at the mine. “Father Kelly sent for Jack and the surgeon,” she continued, “and we brought you home. Because of the wound in your neck, Mr. Hilliard was sent for, too.”
“What did the surgeon say?” I asked, more worried for Mr. Tregarrick’s sake than my own. How he must be hating himself now. Yet if I had just left him alone like he wanted, none of this would have happened.
“Mr. Perry doesn’t quite know what to think, I’m afraid. Your wound, though in the same place, is very different from the solicitor’s. It’s neat and small. He doesn’t believe it was made by an animal. Though there was no blood on your skin or clothing, the surgeon does believe you suffered blood loss as Mr. Roscoe did. The constable thinks you managed somehow to escape your attacker, else ...”
“You’d be dead, too,” said Jack, because Mrs. Moyle didn’t seem up to it. “Probably he was just in less of a hurry this time.”
I looked to Mrs. Moyle, hoping for a different answer, but she said, “The constable does seem to have the idea now that a man—one who is not well in his mind—may be responsible for both attacks.”
I’d gone to Mr. Tregarrick to warn him about the gossip in the village, and instead of helping, I’d made things worse.
Grasping, I said, “Our mother used to talk about fairies on the heath, and she also used to say some fairies are vicious. I know we’re not meant to believe in them these days, but—”
“Fairies!” Jack let out a snort, though as children he and I had both believed Mum’s stories. If he’d been through what I had in the past week, he’d probably be less likely to scoff. “Might as well call it an actual wolf,” he said, “like some of the dullards at the tavern. It’s Tregarrick. Mark my words.”
“Butwhy, Jack? Why would he do such a thing?”
“You heard what Mrs. Moyle said. Because he’s not right in the head! Probably runs in his family, and it’s the reason for those old stories.”
The fact that Jack wasso closeto right didn’t keep me from wanting to have the last word about it. But before I could fire back, Mrs. Moyle, in a tone of motherly authority, said, “I don’t think this is good for Mina right now. It’s the Sabbath, Jack. Why don’t you take your day of rest, and let me take care of your sister. We can talk of all this later.”
He gave a dissatisfied grunt, but he went back around the screen without protest. I heard him clomping about for a minute or two, and then the front door opened and closed.
I sighed.
Mrs. Moyle gave me a smile tinged with worry, and then she excused herself to take the broth off the stove. I also heard her bolt the front door, a thing we rarely bothered to do.
Jack was going to be impossible now, and even kind Mrs. Moyle would forbid me from going to The Magpie until this mystery—though no mystery tome—was cleared up. I couldn’t blame her for that, but I didn’t know how I was going to just sit behind a bolted door while everyone was out trying to find someone to blame for the attacks. I was afraid of what would happen to Mr. Tregarrick.
Which meansI’mthe one who’s not right in the head.
I also feared the attack might have left him more dangerous. He hadn’t drunk blood in many years. Would his thirst be worse now? Or perhaps the blood might lessen his thirst; he’d made it clear his vital essence was a poor substitute.
Mrs. Moyle came back with a steaming cup, then set it on the bedside table before opening the window curtain partway to let in some daylight.
“I’m sorry about Jack,” I said. “He wasn’t always so ...”
“Angry?”
“Mmm.” My hand shook as I lifted the cup, but Mrs. Moyle had wisely filled it only halfway. The broth was salty and satisfying.
“I think people sometimes become angry when they feel powerless,” she said. “First the two of you lost your parents, and two days ago he almost lostyou. He has been worried sick about you, Mina.”
“I suppose finding someone to blame makes him feel better.” I couldn’t help sounding bitter.
My employer eyed me keenly. “You can tell me the truth, you know.”
Heart missing a beat, I met her gaze. She had been a trusted friend. In some ways, like a mother even. How I wished Icouldconfide in her! But I fearedthistruth would be too much for her.
“There is more I could say,” I replied carefully. “I’ve learned things in the past week that have shocked me, but they are very private and were shared only for my protection. One thing I’m sure of, though—Mr.Tregarrick isn’t going around attacking people on the heath any more than I am.”
I held my breath as she continued to study me, then let it out as she nodded. “I believe you,” she said. “But Mina, you almost died. And I can’t help wondering now about your fall on the heath last week—there are things aboutthatI know you’ve yet to tell me.”
“Yes,” I agreed, nodding sheepishly.
“Jack is right. This could happen to someone else.”
“I know, and I believe Mr. Tregarrick himself has the best chance of preventing it.”
