I envied him the certainty that hung in his voice. This man had once been a creation in my father’s laboratory, then a dog at Montgomery’s heels. Now he was so much more. A savior. A friend. I reached over and squeezed his hand. “You do belong with us.”
The wind must have carried the sound of our voices beyond the winter garden, because Edward turned in the chair and came over to us. There was a carefulness in the way he handled himself, one hand pressed against his chest, his movements guarded and slow. I jumped up to help him ease onto a low brick wall. Behind him, the stone statue of a fox watched, unscathed by the fire.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
He winced as he settled on the brick wall. Carefully, he pulled away his hand from his chest, where he’d been clutching a blood-soaked cloth packed with straw. “It doesn’t hurt. That’s something, at least.”
There was a strain to his voice; just because he had survived the metal rod didn’t meant it hadn’t damaged him. “We’ll get you to Quick and stitch you up there. There must be a carriage left that didn’t burn.” I glanced in the direction of the barn, but the space was empty now where Carlyle’s wagon usually resided.
“I can help with that, mistress, if you don’t mind.”
It was McKenna, making her way across the heather toward us. She wore her boots and a tartan cape and though her gray-streaked hair was a bit wild, it was clear she’d bathed and rested.
“McKenna! You came back.”
“Of course, little mouse. Even burned and gone, this is my home. Did you really think I could leave it for long?” She motioned behind her, to where Carlyle was hitching the mule and wagon, staring off at the ruins of his home. “We took the girls to Quick last night and settled them down. I reported the fire to the authorities—said it was caused by an errant spark in the fireplace.” Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted to the courtyard, where the bodies of the dead still lay, starting to bloat beneath the morning sunlight. “There’s much work to be done, eh?”
I’d never been so thankful for someone so practical. Her tired face with the laugh-line wrinkles and the shock of white hairs mixed in with the red. Such a quiet woman, but there was strength there. I couldn’t possibly manage this place without her, Elizabeth had said. Maybe, with McKenna’s help, I could be as good a mistress to Ballentyne as Elizabeth had been.
Carlyle came over, a deep frown on his face. He and I had never really gotten on, but he’d been there when I’d needed him, and for that I would be in his eternal debt.
“Came to see if there was anything worth salvaging,” Carlyle said, and then nudged Montgomery’s unconscious leg with the tip of his boot. “He’ll do, for a start.”
“Would you mind taking him back to Quick?” I asked. “We can stay at the inn for a few days until he and Edward are both recovered.”
“Aye,” he said, and signaled to Balthazar. “Help me load ’em up in the wagon, won’t you, big fellow?” The two of them placed Montgomery gently on the saddle blanket, and Carlyle took his seat at the front and picked up the reins.
I rested an arm over the wooden wagon bed, brushing Montgomery’s hair out of his eyes. “I’ll see you soon,” I whispered to him. “There are a few things I have to do first.”
I gave the signal to Carlyle, who clicked to the mule, and the wagon rolled off down the muddy road. Balthazar and I watched it go. With a deep sigh, Balthazar turned toward the courtyard.
“Lot of bodies, miss,” he grunted. “I’d best get started on the graves; the ground is frozen, so I’ll have to sink them in the bog.”
“I’ll help you.”
He shook his head. “You inhaled a lot of smoke, miss. You need rest as well. Edward can help; he’s strong, even now.” He lumbered off.
I faced Ballentyne, watching the smoke rise. The roof of the southern tower had caved in, but the stone bones still stood sentry over the moors. I thought of the winding steps that led to the secrets those rooms once held: Hensley’s room with the cages of rats, and above it, the laboratory. All of it now reduced to ashes.
Just like Lucy.