“Someone tried to kill you. Aren’t you frightened?”
“Yes, sir. I certainly am.” And that was no more or less than the truth. I was afraid of this other vampire, and I was afraid of Mr. Tregarrick being blamed for his crimes.
“I also wonder about your coming and going as usual after finding a man murdered next to the road. Though I know it was likely due, in part, to my faulty counsel, I won’t lie to you—I find it surprising.”
I sat a moment, considering my words. There were reasons that Icouldshare with the constable.
“Well, sir, I have a job, just as you do. Jack has been after me to give it up, but the cottage is lonely with my parents gone. And ever since the night I found Mr. Roscoe, unwelcome thoughts come into my head when I’m alone.”
Mr. Hilliard’s features softened, and he nodded. “All right, Miss Penrose. One last question and I’ll let you rest.”
He set down his pencil, reached into his waistcoat pocket, and drew out something that glittered in his fingers.Mum’s cross!
Placing it on the table, he said, “You were holding this when they found you. The surgeon had to pry it from your fingers. Do you know where it came from?”
“Aye, sir. It was my mother’s.”
“I see.” He looked disappointed, if not surprised, and it occurred to me he might have hoped it belonged to my attacker. “I didn’t notice you wearing it the last two times we spoke.”
My heart skipped. “I took to wearing it after ... after Mr. Roscoe.”
His brows knit. “For protection?”
I began to feel Mr. Hilliard was rather good at his job, saving his trickiest questions until he was about to take his leave.
“You’ll think me foolish.”
“I think no such thing, Miss Penrose. It seems that it worked. The clasp is broken, as if you yanked at the chain. Do you remember doing that?”
“I don’t, sir.”
I recalled how Mr. Tregarrick had suddenly let me go, bounding back, hand flying to his neck where the cross had touched him. Did it mean a vampire was a kind of demon?
Does a demon tell you his weakness and then thank you for using it?
Whatever else he was, I didn’t believe for a moment Mr. Tregarrick was evil.
Mr. Hilliard now closed his diary and slipped it back into his coat pocket. “I’ll leave you now. I thank you for your time.”
I walked him to the door, and as he was going, he said, “I can’t help feeling there are things you aren’t telling me, Miss Penrose. I know Jack can be hotheaded, and maybe that’s the reason for your reticence. But if you do think of anything that might help us catch this killer, for everyone’s sake, I hope you will send for me. Jack needn’t know.”
My hands were trembling, and I clasped them together. “I will, sir, thank you.”
He studied me a moment longer, maybe hoping I’d say more. Then he put on his hat and went out to his waiting horse and gig.
I closed the door and fell against it.
I am completely useless.I couldn’t help Mr. Tregarrick. I couldn’t help Mr. Hilliard. I couldn’t go to my job. All I could do was sit here and wait, hoping no one else would be attacked.
I might go mad.
Breathing a heavy sigh, I straightened, then noticed my basket resting beside the door—with the book inside! Mr. Tregarrick’s letter had so taken up my notice that I had completely forgotten about it.
In the Leaves: A Primer on Tasseography, by Jane Rochester.
I snatched up the book and went to the stove to put the kettle on again. Flipping through the pages while I waited for the boil, I saw the book had many sketches of sample readings.Dear Mr. Tregarrick!
I placed book, pot, and cup on a tray, carried them out back, and set them on the milking stool, shooing away the curious animals. After dragging over a rickety chair that Jack hadn’t gotten around to mending, I sat down in a sunny spot.
