Page 96 of Bane Bloom

“I’m sure that he could.”

He glanced around the edges of the pool. “Has this plant no label?”

“It appears to be the only one in the garden without one.”

“Does Thomas have an explanation for that?”

I took a deep breath and replied carefully, “I believe the plant was as much of a mystery to them as it is to us, sir.”

“Fascinating.” He shook his head. “How very unfortunate poor Arthur became so addled as to destroy all his writings.”

I raised my brows slightly. This had probably been the explanation Prudence had given. “Indeed, sir.”

He pocketed his magnifying glass and slowly stood up. “Lovely as this specimen is, there was one detail in particular that was responsible for bringing me here in such haste. I found your assertion that sometimes this flower appears to be a common water lily rather astonishing, and hoped to witness it for myself while the plant is still in bloom. There has been speculation that some plants may blend in with their surroundings in order to confuse animals that might consume them, but this is something altogether un—”

The outer door to the glasshouse suddenly flew open, and I glanced up, expecting to find Thomas—though it was a very un-Thomas-like entry. It wasn’t Thomas, but a smaller figure, moving very quickly.

Carroll!

The woodwose had burst through the outer door and was thumping down the cobbled walk toward us.

“Miss Gray!” cried Harding, eyes wide as saucers.

I took hold of his arm to pull him back toward the house, but we had no hope of getting there in time. Even if we did, there was no bolt on the inner glasshouse door.

I shouted for Thomas at the top of my voice.

Carroll plowed right into us as we were fleeing, knocking me to the ground but catching hold of Harding and wrapping both woody, knotty hands around his neck.

Harding sank to his knees, eyes still wide with terror as he stared into the bark-covered face of his attacker. The curator’s pale, slender fingers pried at the ones gripping his throat.

“Mr. Carroll!” I snapped with all the authority I could muster. “Let him go this instant!”

I darted a glance at the door he’d come through—still no Thomas. Could Carroll have hurt Thomas? What on earth had gotten into him? Thomas had said Carroll had become a kind of guardian of Pine Cottage. Had he viewed Harding as a threat?

Harding is a threat. He’d come to see the Elfbloom, but he’d also talked of the impending sale, and the possible destruction of the garden. Carroll might have heard, if he’d been close enough to a window. Or maybe it was more something he’d sensed.

Regardless, Harding was thrashing now, trying desperately to free himself, and his face had gone purple.

I jumped up and grabbed Carroll’s arm—shivering at the feel of the strange, furry fibers under my hands—and tried breaking his hold. He was far too strong.

“Mr. Carroll!” I repeated. “Look at me. This gentleman doesn’t understand, but I will try to help him to. Do you hear me? You must let him go or things will be worse!”

Finally his eyes came to my face. They were dark, round, and wild, and through his parted lips I saw jagged, uneven teeth like broken bits of wood.

Harding fell back onto the cobbles, gasping and coughing—Carroll had suddenly released him.

The door from the sitting room banged open, and Thomas shouted angrily, “You get away from them, now!”

Carroll’s eyes rolled in terror, and he let out the throaty cry I’d heard before. He turned and bounded back toward the outer door. Thomas started after him, and I called, “Leave him! Help me with Mr. Harding!”

Thomas continued until he reached the outer door, then closed and bolted it before returning.

“Are you all right, sir?” I said, kneeling beside Harding.

“I don’t believe I am, young woman,” he said hoarsely.

“Let us get him inside,” said Thomas, and we each took one of his arms.