Her brow furrowed. “Why would that be?”
What could I answer without exposing him, or terrifyingher? I settled for, “He understands the creature that’s doing it.”
Eyes going wide, she said, “Why not tell the constable, then? Wouldn’t it be better if they worked together?”
I sipped my broth and thought about that. “It likely would be, except I don’t think Mr. Hilliard—or anyone else—would believe Mr. Tregarrick’s story. And since they’re already looking for a man who’s not right in his mind, telling the constable would probably make matters worse. They might arrest him, and I don’t know if they can find or stop the killer without him.”
Mrs. Moyle rubbed her lips together, thinking. “I don’t like the idea of them fixing on an innocent man, especially with the rumors already swirling about him.” She looked at me. “You’re sure of his story?”
“If he was the killer, I would be dead.”
I thought about the ways he had convinced me of what he was. I hated to imagine what would happen to him if people in the village knew. I recalled the angry mob from my dream.
Mrs. Moyle shivered. “All right. I don’t like this, but I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. It sounds as if Mr. Tregarrick has taken you into his confidence, and I don’t believe confidences should be betrayed without very good reason. More than that, however—from the things youhavetold me, I’ve begun to suspect that he has been actingto protect you in recent days.” She fixed her eyes on me. “But hear me, Mina.Youare not the one to help him stop this killer.”
“No,” I agreed, because she was more right than she knew.
I slumped against the pillow, feeling warm and sleepy after the broth.
Mrs. Moyle came and took my cup. “Try to rest now, dear. There’ll be a joint of beef for dinner to strengthen your blood.”
When next I woke, it was to the aroma of fresh bread and boiled beef. Feeling lonely and confined, I made my way to sitting up and then swung my legs down. My heart labored after only this small movement.
When I stood, everything hurt, like I’d been walking for days without a rest. Flashes of memory came to me then—of a slow and creeping journey between the chapel and The Magpie. I could feel the bruises on my knees from the times I’d stumbled and fallen. For stretches of it, I had crawled. The short walk had takenages. I remembered how I’d fixed on the idea of reaching The Magpie.Only a little farther now. Soon you can sleep.Driven by fear of the monsters of Roche Rock.
With a shaky breath, I smoothed my shift and wrapped up in my shawl before making my way slowly out to the kitchen.
Mrs. Moyle fussed to see me out of bed, and when I refused to go back, she made me sit down at the table and drink a small glass of brandy, which she’d brought from home—also “to strengthen my blood.” I recalled brandy was somehow involved in Mr. Tregarrick’s vital essence, so perhaps there was something to it. It did warm me.
When dinner was ready, the two of us ate without Jack. I tried to imagine where he’d gone. The Wolf’s Head was closed on the Sabbath. The sun would set in an hour or so, and I worried about him walking home after dark. I worried that his suspicions about Mr. Tregarrick might have taken him onto the estate.
Though I felt stronger and steadier after the meal, Mrs. Moyle wouldn’t let me help her clear up. After she’d finished, I tried to send her home.
“I can’t leave you here alone, Mina,” she protested.
“I’m much better,” I told her, determined, “and you have a business to see to.” I’d learned over dinner that she’d been taking care of me so Jack wouldn’t have to miss work (that was her stated reason, though more likely she’d been unsure whether he was up to it). “Jack will be home soon, and his dinner’s made, thanks to you. I promise I’ll go back to bed.”
She eyed me, unsure. “You must also promise you won’t try to come to The Magpie tomorrow.”
I agreed. Even if I felt up to it, I knew better than to test Jack’s patience right now. If he could only look past his own stubbornness and pride, he’d see The Magpie was probably a safer place for me than anywhere else. Our cottage was right on the edge of the heath.
“All right,” she said with a sigh. “But I’ll come back in the morning before opening, just to make sure all is well.”
“You haven’t walked here alone, have you?”
She smiled. “Ghost escorted me.”
Mrs. Moyle had a cart she used when she couldn’t get purchases delivered. It was pulled by a dapple-gray gelding—a kind old gentleman called Ghost—that her husband had kept for her at the livery. She loved him like a pet, and he was still boarded there by the new owner.
“Well, gonow, then,” I said. “Before the sun sets. And ask the stable boy to see you home.”
Reluctantly she went, and though I didn’t usually like being alone in the cottage, this evening it was a relief to have time to think over everything without having to answer more questions.Or tell more lies.
The master of Roche Rock had not been out of my thoughts for a single moment since I’d woken. The attack should have made me afraid of him in a way his words had failed to, but instead, I continued to worry about him. Besides hating himself, he might be wonderingwhether I was alive or dead. And he might be wondering how long it would be before the lawmen came for him.
When I finally went back to bed as I’d promised, my busy mind wouldn’t let me sleep. I kept remembering the attack, and what stayed with me was not a nightmare of blood and pain—there hadbeenno pain beyond the second it took for his teeth to pierce my skin. What my mind chose to dwell on instead was his arms crushing me against him. His hand cradling the back of my head. His hair tickling my throat and, most of all, his lips against me. I had never felt so alive as when I was dying in his arms.
God help me.
