Page 19 of Wolfhaven

“The duke gave it to me. We negotiated a different compensation arrangement. He will help us get through the winter and give me a stipend of two shillings a day, plus six percent of the sales on any items of value I personally find.” Which, now that Evaine thought about it, didn’t include the coffered ceiling or that enormous carved oak table. He had led her straight to them, knowing they were of some value. Her optimism about this endeavor dimmed. It seemed unlikely she would walk away with more than a few hundred pounds under this arrangement. Still a better situation than their current predicament, but not a life-changing amount of money that would allow her to return to school.

“That is very generous of him,” said Gran. “What is he like?”

“Exceedingly disagreeable company,” she said. “Now, what would you like to eat for lunch? Can you wait long enough to cook potatoes, or would you rather have cold ham and cheese?”

“Ham and cheese,” said Gran, tugging her woolen cardigan firmly around her frail body and shuffling to put things away in cupboards. “There’s even a pot of butter,” she exclaimed.

It was a good sign that she had an appetite.

A crack of thunder outside rattled the windowpanes. Lightning split the sky and turned the entire room a sickly shade of green. Rain fell hard on the roof. Evaine prodded the fire to life and added a log from the stack to the glowing coals.

Companionably they made their lunch and began peeling potatoes and chopping carrots, onions, and cabbage for their evening meal. Evaine made dough and set it near the warm stove to rise beneath a clean towel. The cottage filled with the smells of good food. Evaine’s mouth watered.

“Tell me more about the house,” said Gran.

“It’s quite beautiful inside. If you can look past all the dust and decay. It’s a melancholy place. Feels haunted.” A chill crept along her spine. “I had the distinct sense that there was a presence following us, yet every time I turned around, there was nothing there.”

“Are you certain you want to return to that house?” Gran asked.

“Where else am I going to find employment on the Yorkshire moors?”

“I shouldn’t have brought us here,” she said, punctuating her lament with a cough. “I thought the country air would help my lungs. I was dismissive of how isolated it is in Yorkshire.”

Evaine realized her grandmother was lonely. She had no one for company. Her physical frailty meant she couldn’t easily move around the cottage, much less seek out anyone else. In London she had been able to take the trolley to museums or join a friend for tea. Take walks in the nearby park even though it meant stopping at every bench to rest. Here, there was nothing but her own mind and an unfamiliar room with two beds and a small stove. Not even a cat for company.

They hadn’t escaped the same conundrum that had plagued them in London, after all. Evaine couldn’t stay here to keep her grandmother company all day, and still earn a living. Torn, she tried to think of a solution. Short of finding a way to double herself, she couldn’t.

“Perhaps you should come with me to the mansion tomorrow,” she said slowly, thinking it over. All the dust would be a problem. But if she could clear out a single room—set her grandmother up with a chair near the fire in the kitchen while they worked, perhaps—they could take meals with the duke and break up the monotony. Despite his gruff demeanor and fearsome appearance, Lord Lucan wasn’t altogether terrible company. He was intelligent with a biting dry wit. He would be a fine conversational foil for Hazel.

All they had out here was one another. They had to find a way to rely on each other to get through this ordeal.

A gust of wind brought a tree crashing down. Both women whirled.

Seconds later, a long stream of water pooled on the ceiling.

“Oh!” Gran exclaimed, knocking her chair back in her haste to get out of the way of the leak that came flooding in through the damaged roof. Evaine swore.

“Language,” Gran chided.

“Are you seriously concerned about that right now?” Exasperated, she pulled out the metal ash bucket from beside the stove. It was empty, thankfully, or that could have been an even bigger mess. Water streamed loudly into the pail. She cast about, searching for another vessel to replace it while she emptied the thing out into the yard. A glass bowl was all she could find.

For the next hour, she emptied the bucket, then the bowl, one after another, racing to the door to empty it before the filled again.

“I wish this damned storm would stop,” she muttered. This time, Gran didn’t rebuke her for her coarse language.

Evaine bailed water from their leaky cottage until her arms ached. The dark sky darkened further into evening. The fire inside their stove had long since gone out. She couldn’t pause long enough to prod the coals to life. Their dinner sat half cooked. Her stomach rumbled but she couldn’t stop or they would have nowhere to sleep.

At last, the rain dwindled into a soft patter.

“I have to go on the roof and try to plug the hole,” Evaine said tiredly.

“Don’t. It can wait until tomorrow. The roof will be slippery.”

“I’ll be careful. If we wait until morning, the entire cottage will be flooded, and then where will we go?” She changed out of her skirt and into an old pair of men’s trousers that she sometimes wore to chop wood.

Gran shrugged helplessly. “Coming here was a mistake.”

“We made the best decision we could at the time. Let’s not wallow in regret and recriminations now.”