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Mr. Pynch leaned close and said, “Perfect.”
And then he kissed her.
MELISANDE PILED BLANKETS on the floor and watched her husband pace the room. He was agitated tonight, as if at any moment his control would break and he’d leave the room and run. Was that what Sir Alistair had been doing, riding so late and in the dark? Was he trying to outrun demons as well?
Yet Vale stayed, and she was grateful for that. He hadn’t answered her question about Spinner’s Falls yet. He drank from a glass of whiskey and paced the room, but he stayed with her. There had to be some comfort in that.
“It was after Quebec, you see,” he said suddenly. Facing the window, he might not have even been talking to her, save for the fact that she was the only other person in the room. “It was September, and we’d been ordered to Fort Edward to spend the winter. We’d already lost over one hundred men in the battle and left another three dozen behind because they were too wounded to march. We were decimated but thought the worst was over. We’d won the battle —Quebec had fallen to us—and it was only a matter of time before the French would be forced to surrender entirely and the war would be ours. The tide had turned.”
ande looked at him. “What—?”
“Shh.”
And then she heard. From deep inside the house there came a dull scraping, as if some subterranean creature had stirred.
Vale slammed his fist into the door, making Melisande start. “Oy! Come and let us in!”
A bolt shot back with a thump, and the door slowly creaked open. A short little man stood in the doorway. He was rather stout, and his graying ginger hair sprang out on either side of his head like the down on a dandelion. The top of his head was completely bald. He wore a long nightshirt and boots, and he scowled up at them.
“Wot?”
Vale smiled charmingly. “I am Viscount Vale, and this is my lady wife. We’ve come to stay with your master.”
“No, you ain’t,” the creature said, and began to swing shut the door.
Vale put out a hand and stopped the door. “Yes, we are.”
The little man strained against the door, trying to close it, but it wouldn’t budge. “No one’s tol’ me about no visitors. We ain’t got the rooms cleaned nor victuals stocked in. You’ll just have to go away again.”
By this time, Vale had lost his smile. “Let us in and we’ll settle the accommodations later.”
The little man opened his mouth, obviously quite prepared to do further battle, but at that moment, Mouse finally rejoined them. The terrier took one look a Sir Alistair’s servant and decided he was the enemy. He barked at the man so vigorously that all four legs bounced off the ground. The ginger-haired little man gave a high-pitched squeal and jumped back. That was all Vale needed. He slammed open the door and crowded in with Mr. Pynch by his side.
“Stay by the carriage until we’re ready,” Melisande instructed Suchlike, and then she entered the castle more sedately behind the men.
“You can’t! You can’t! You can’t!” the little man was shrieking.
“Where is Sir Alistair?” Vale demanded.
“Out! He’s gone out riding and might not be back for hours.”
“He rides in the dark?” Melisande asked, startled. The countryside they’d been driving through was rugged, rocky, and hilly. She wouldn’t have thought it safe to ride about alone and at night.
But the little man was scurrying ahead of them, down a wide hallway. They followed and stopped when he flung open a door. “You can wait in here, if you like. It makes no difference to me.”
He turned to leave, but Vale caught him by the collar. “Wait.” Vale looked at Melisande. “Can you stay here with Mouse while Pynch and I find bedrooms and some food?”
The room was dark and not at all welcoming, but Melisande lifted her chin. “Certainly.”
“Brave, my sweet wife.” Jasper brushed his lips across her cheek. “Pynch, light some candles for her ladyship, and then we’ll have this fine fellow give us a tour.”
“Yes, my lord.” Mr. Pynch lit four candles—all the room held—from his lantern and the men left.
Melisande listened to their retreating footsteps and then shivered and looked around her. She was in a kind of sitting room, but it wasn’t very pleasant. Here and there were groupings of chairs—very old and very ugly. The carved wood ceiling was terribly high, and the candlelight didn’t entirely pierce the dark overhead. Melisande thought she saw wisps of old spiderwebs hanging down. The walls were also of dark, carved wood and had been decorated by stuffed animal heads—several moth-eaten deer, a badger, and a fox. Their glass eyes were eerie in the gloom.
Shaking herself, she walked determinedly to the great gray stone fireplace at the room’s far end. It was obviously very old—probably older than all the carved wood paneling—and entirely black inside. She found a box by the side containing a few sticks and one log, which she carefully placed inside the fireplace, trying not to think of spiders. Mouse came over to see what she was about, but he soon wandered off again to investigate the shadows.
Melisande stood and brushed off her hands. She searched the mantelpiece and finally found a jar of dusty tapers. She lit one from a candle and held it to the sticks, but the sticks wouldn’t catch, and the taper soon burned down. Melisande reached for ƒde ofanother taper and was just about to light it when Mouse barked.
