Page 39 of Once Bitten, Twice Mine

“How will we help all of our other patients? We can’t send them all to Brighton.”

Dr. Murnau sighed, and she was struck with the fact that he both looked so young and so old. Chronologically, he was young, but this was a man who had seen more than his fair share of destruction.

“First, we must find the vampir.”

CHAPTER 11

Caroline returned home determined to search the library for any hint of mythology about vampires but, Mrs. Thomas intercepted her at the door.

“Miss Evans called for you today. I told her you were volunteering at the hospital and she left a note for you,” the housekeeper said as she held out a small cream envelope.

She missed her best friend. It had been more than a week since they last saw each other, which was the longest they had gone without seeing each other in years. Typically, they sent letters daily and would get together for tea and gossip a few times a week, but Caroline was so busy she fell behind on their correspondence and hadn’t answered Diya in a few days. Frankly, it was surprising it took this long for Diya to show up.

“Thank you,” she said, shoving the card in her pocket so she could worry about it later. “You didn’t tell her she could wait for me, did you?”

“No, I told her you would call for her when ready. I let her know you have been quite busy and are under much stress.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning to walk to the staircase.

Caroline had been ignoring Diya because she didn’t know what to tell her about what was going on. Especially not when the vampire behind it all may be sleeping in one of her guestrooms. So no, it was not the time to have anyone over. Even if she left before sunset, she wasn’t going to risk her best friend.

“Mr. Hall, the bricklayer, is in the kitchen.”

Caroline stopped and closed her eyes just before she reached the staircase. Her investigation would have to wait after all. Turning back to her housekeeper, it took all her strength to keep a neutral expression on her face.

“And what does he say? Is he able to fix the kitchen hearth?”

Bricks had periodically fallen down the chimney, but the last chimney sweep reported several holes after his last cleaning, so the problem could no longer be ignored.

“No, he wants to speak with you.”

“Are you sure? Cook would be the best to answer any questions. Or even you. I don’t know anything about chimneys or brickwork.”

“He asked for the man of the house, and that’s you.”

For the second time that day she wished she hadn’t sent her father away. Or that Edgar was there. He really should be the one handling this, as it was his money that would fix it. With the lack of men in her home, she trudged to the kitchen, sending up a small prayer that it wouldn’t take long at the very least.

Walking into the kitchen, she saw Cook standing at the wooden table in the middle of the room, chopping vegetables and shooting occasional dirty looks to where a man leaned against the brick hearth. He looked to be a handful of years older than her with light brown hair peaking out beneath a dark wool flat cap. His clothes were covered in a light dusting of ash, but that wasn’t a surprise if he had been crawling in the hearth.

“Hello,” she said, mustering up all the authority she could. “I presume you are Mr. Hall. My housekeeper said you wished to speak with me.”

“Aye, I got a look at your chimney, and it’s not in the best shape. Lots of missing bricks and whoever built it in the first place took some shortcuts, so the foundation needs work as well.”

All of which sounded so wildly expensive she wanted to cry, but there wasn’t any other choice. They needed the hearth, not just for cooking meals for the household, but that was where the bread was baked for their tenants, and it heated most of the house since she had been rationing their wood so very few rooms had a fire going.

“Go ahead and complete any necessary repairs. Cook will be able to work around you, and once you’re finished, draw up the bill, and I’ll approve whatever payment.”

“See, that’s why I wanted to speak with the man of the house.”

“I assure you, I’m the one you need to speak with.”

A fire lit within her at the implication that he shouldn’t be speaking with her because she was a woman. For all intents and purposes, she was the man of the house. She ran the estate and the leases, kept track of all the household finances, balanced the books, and had even chosen the newest vicar. This was her estate.

“See,” Mr. Hall said, pushing himself from the wall, “I might have never been to Blythe Manor, but I’ve heard of your family up here, and I know you can’t afford these repairs.”

Her breath caught and her face was so hot it felt as if she was on fire from within. She had been handling her family’s money problems for years, but she hadn’t realized it had become gossip. She tried so hard to keep their troubles private, and to know she had failed was a punch to the gut.

“I assure you we have never had an issue paying any craftsmen. You will get every penny you’re owed.”