Page 26 of Written in Red

“I suspect he will.” Smythe dipped his head.

The lady turned back to her husband. “We had best be on our way, dear.”

The gentleman opened the door. The sound of splattering rain grew instantly louder.

“Does the village have an inn, by chance?” the lady asked. “I don’t know that we’ll get very far in this weather at night.”

“The tavern offers rooms,” Smythe said. “And hot meals.”

“Wonderful.” The lady smiled at him before stepping past her husband.

The two of them and their ghost stepped out, and Smythe closed the door behind them.

“I hate that we have to turn them away in a downpour,” Mercury said. “I’ve not had to do that before.”

Tacey took his hand. “You aren’t being cruel; you’re being cautious.”

“I slept in the rain often while I was living on the streets of London. No one ever offered me shelter. I was tossed off stoops, splashed by passing carriages.” Mercury didn’t often let himself think about those miserable years.

“We couldn’t stop you from getting wet.” Baby Blue hovered nearby, watching Mercury with unmistakable guilt on his sweet face.

“And I couldn’t do anything to save all of you from having to live on the streets with me.”

“We were together,” Baby said with the tiniest little shrug of his translucent shoulders. “That was the most important thing.”

Mercury smiled at him. “It still is.”

Smythe floated up the stairs to them. “Mr. and Mrs. Brand’s carriage has become mired in the mud at the turn in the drive. They are trying valiantly, with Snaffle’s help, to free it, but Snaffle does not think it will be managed quickly. And he says the horses are suffering.”

The hesitancy in Mercury’s mind was echoed as tension in those around him. He could feel it and sense it. Yet, what could he do? There was a chance the Brands weren’t who they portrayed themselves to be. But if they were, it would be cruel to force them to traipse through mud and rain all the way to the village, assuming they could even find it in such awful weather. And resigning their horses to grow helplessly stuck in the mud as well was hardly justifiable.

“Does Snaffle think he can free the horses before they injure themselves?” Mercury asked.

Smythe dipped his head. “If he unhitches them from the mired carriage.”

“We can have a ghost keep an eye on the room we offer them,” Mercury said. “We’d have ample warning if they try sneaking around the house or causing any mischief.”

“The last person bent on ‘causing mischief,’” Smythe said, “arrived with a pistol.”

“I know there is danger in having them in the house, but we would know where they are, which helps lessen that risk.”

Mercury met Tacey’s eyes. She was the only one in the house other than him who could be hurt if this proved unwise.

“The Violet Giant didn’t recognize them,” she said, “and they had intended to leave. I think that increases the likelihood that they didn’t come here with malicious intent.”

To Smythe, Mercury said, “Tell the Brands they can stay tonight. Offer them the first bedchamber in the guest wing. And ask Snaffle, once the horses are seen to, to place himself at the top of the drive and warn anyone who attempts to visit that the drive is not passable.”

Smythe left to deliver the messages.

Mercury turned to the Violet Giant. “Will you ask Captain Capitate if he’ll keep an eye on our visitors?”

“Of course.”

“Do we have to keep an eye on them?” Baby Blue asked once the towering phantom had passed through the wall. “We don’t sit anymore. I want to sit.”

Though the little boy hadn’t phrased it eloquently, Mercury knew what he was asking. During quiet evenings when there were no clients at Aventine, Mercury would often retreat to his sitting room to read a book or a newspaper. Baby Blue almost always sat beside him. Sometimes they would talk. Sometimes Baby Blue would sleep.

They hadn’t done that in weeks.