In the moments that I did manage to push all of this from my mind, I went back to wondering what Jack was up to. Sundays he usually drank at home and slept. Sometimes he would take care of things around the cottage that I couldn’t do for myself. I kept imagining him appearing at the chapel door to confront Mr. Tregarrick, and my stomach tied itself in knots. How would the master of Roche Rock respond to such a meeting? Again I worried that drinking my blood might have worsened the vampire’s cravings.
At last, I got up and dressed. I was in no fit state to go searching for my twin, but I could at least have a look around outside before the light was gone. Sometimes he stood between our cottage and the Budges’ place smoking a pipe and jawing with Billy. Or he might be working on something in the shed out back.
As I started for the door, someone knocked on it, and my heart skipped.
I laid a hand against the wood and bent close. “Who’s there?”
“Roger Carew, miss. Agent for Mr. Tregarrick. I have a letter for you.”
Now my heart leaped into my throat. I drew back the bolt and opened the door.
A smartly dressed gentleman stood outside, holding the reins of a sleek chestnut horse. His other hand gripped the basket I’d carried to Roche Rock. He held it out to me, and inside I saw a folded paperresting atop a book. The letter had flowing handwriting on the outside. Though I hadn’t read a great deal of handwriting, Mrs. Moyle sometimes wrote out lists and instructions, and I was able to make out my name—Miss Mina Penrose.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, taking the basket.
“I’m to read it to you, if it’s needed,” said Mr. Carew. I studied him, but his face wore no expression.
Lifting my chin slightly, I replied, “That won’t be necessary.”
He touched his hat brim and got on his horse.
“Mr. Carew,” I called, and he looked down.
“You’ll let him know I’m all right?”
The agent touched his hat again and then clucked to his horse.
Gripping the basket handle, palms damp and shaking, I stepped out the front door. It was all I could do not to take up the letter at once, but I looked up and down the road as I’d intended, if for no other reason than it wouldn’t do for Jack to catch me reading it.
A cart full of carrots and swedes rattled by, a boy in the back lifting a hand to wave as it passed. Other than that, the road was as deserted as I might expect on Sunday evening just after dinnertime.
I wondered whether the whole village had heard about what happened to me. Mr. Hilliard had shown he wasn’t one to spread tales, but Mrs. Moyle said I’d been found in front of the tearoom.
Most likely everyone knows.Afraid I might meet a neighbor, I quickly ducked back inside.
I set the basket next to the door, slipped the letter into my pocket, and went to boil water for tea. A cool head would serve me best.
Once I’d dosed a steaming cup with plenty of milk and sugar for courage, I stepped out the back door and called for Jack, in case he might be in the shed. No reply came, and I sat down on the old milking stool under the apple tree. The sun had set, but the sky behind Roche Rock was the color of a pearl. I had a little time yet.
I drank my tea and watched a hare cross the downs with its long, rolling lope. I chatted absently at Jenny and the hens while the fresh air soothed my nerves.
Finally, I took the letter from my pocket.
Miss Penrose,
Mr. Carew has been watching your cottage for a time when your brother and employer might both be away. He has assured me that you live, and that good Mrs. Moyle appears to be staying with you. I hope you will forgive me this trespass. I know you cannot forgive me for the other, nor would I wish you to. I will never forgivemyself.
I’ve instructed Mr. Carew to deliver this letter into your hands only, so if you are reading it, you are well enough to answer the door, and I thank heaven for it. Nay, I thankyoufor it. For granting my wish that you wear the cross, as well as for finding the strength to wield it against me. I ask that you grant me one last favor, though I have no right to. Please keep to your cottage, unless in the company of others, until I am able to secure the village of Roche against the present threat.
Finally, though you don’t need my permission, I will give it: You are free to share what you now know—about myself and about the other—with anyone you see fit, if indeed you have not done so already.
When the present threat has been removed, if I am still master of Roche Rock, and you feel secure enough to walk again on the heath, know that I will sense your passing and will be remembering what timewe were given to become acquainted. Friends are a luxury my affliction has denied me.
I wish you good health and a long life with all my heart.
Sincerely,
HT
