“I suppose that’s not for us to know. It’s not your job to do God’s work for him, is it?” I replied slowly. We were both quiet for a moment, the wind picking up, making the grass of the fields shiver and sway, as if an immense hand had dragged fingers over a piece of green velvet. The sheep ambled closer, but they and their shepherd remained a long way off. Was it futile to wait for help?
“One of the girls at Pitney liked to steal my breakfast. She was older, bigger, had these giant teeth like a horse’s. When I told on her, she waited until nobody was looking and slammed my head into a desk. I plotted for months to get back at her, and then I managed to pour ink in her tea one morning. Catherine’s teeth were black for a fortnight.”
Chijioke laughed heartily, slamming his hand down on the fence. It wobbled, looking about ready to splinter. “You see? How can doing the right thing be evil?”
“There has to be a better way,” I replied. “I only put ink in her tea.”
“Aye, and she only stole your breakfast now and then.” He paused, taking the shovel handle and running his thumb thoughtfully along the grain. “You should stay. If only for a wee while, just to see if you don’t change your mind.”
I heard soft footsteps rushing across the grass and glanced over my shoulder, watching Mary scurry across the pitted lawn toward us. She dodged the holes with tiny, endearing hops and a flail of the arms.
How can they all seem so normal?
“What if you get things wrong?” I asked, making a note to come back here sometime and check again for the shepherd. In fact, my window faced this side of the fence. I might be able to dash out if I was ever idle on that side of the house.
“No, the master is never wrong,” Chijioke replied solemnly. “Never.”
I thought of Lee, of his hand grazing mine as he rescued my fallen spoon. “We shall see.”
Mary reached us in a swirl of clean skirts that smelled of fresh bread. Her hands and wrists were dusted with flour, a smudge of it on her nose and cheek, too. “There you are! Chi, shame on you for tarrying with her here. There’s but five of us to see to this great beast of a house!” She took a deep breath, leaning back and putting her hands on her waist. Chijioke slinked away, sheepish, giving me a helpless shrug and a grin as he went.
“Mrs. Haylam wants you in the library,” she said. “It needs dusting. I was going to do it but it’s one of the easier tasks, and I thought you mightn’t be ready for anything more daunting.”
She was having trouble meeting my eye, and it was no secret why.
“I don’t know if I want to dust the library,” I said. My fingers and head still crackled occasionally with the pain of having pushed beyond the borders of the property. “I’m really not keen to stay here.”
Mary nodded, wiping her floury hands on her apron. “Was fretting, worried you might say as much. Do as you will, then, Louisa. I’m just the messenger. But if you’re going to stay, you’ll have to work like the rest of us.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and hurried to add, “Not the . . . that kind of work, oh, bugger it!”
The curse sounded ridiculous coming from her. She seemed the type to blush after even thinking such a word. The wind changed directions, coming now from behind me, from where the sheep grazed out farther in the pasture. I smelled the sweet grass and the scent of bread from her aprons and drank deeply of the air. I knew now that the master was not lying. He or that infernal book did have some power over me.
I needed more time. And the library might have a few rare books. Books that would see me out of this place and on a boat to America.
“I’ll see to the library,” I said, holding back a sigh. “Lead on.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was less a library and more snowdrifts of books and dust heaped against sagging shelves, cramped and labyrinthine. I had to wonder at Lee’s inability to find anything worth reading when I had never in my life seen so many books piled in one place.
On a better day, the room might have enjoyed clean, pure sunlight through its third-floor windows, but a troubling layer of grime darkened the place.
I stood dumbfounded and overwhelmed in the doorway, while Mary fidgeted like a guilty thief behind me. I felt that if anyone should be twitching, it ought to be me.
“The easier task,” I murmured.
“I . . . may have forgotten the state of things in here,” she said. “I can stay to help if you like, but only until Mrs. Haylam needs me again.”
“No, that’s all right.” The time alone would be welcome. Crucial. There were no shadow creatures in here to notice whether anything went missing. “It’s straightforward enough, I think.”
“Don’t put yourself out tidying the books. Mr. Morningside just keeps chucking them in here despite Mrs. Haylam’s protests. Once, she sent a few of the dog-eared copies to a school for charity and Mr. Morningside was furious with her. He raised his voice. It was terrible stuff, just awful.”
“He raised his voice?” I said. She looked horrified all over again by the memory. “One shudders to imagine it.”
“But you must not judge him because of that. It really was not her place to dispose of his property that way.” Mary began wringing her hands, puffing out her cheeks as she surveyed the messy room ahead of me. “I can stay. . . .”
I ignored the offer. “Does Mr. Morningside often leave the cellar?”
Her eyes flamed wide. “Oh. Oh no, no, that’s very rare indeed. I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, in fact. He says the air up here bothers him. The pollen, or some such.”
“I see.” I didn’t, of course, but it was just another little puzzle piece to file away. I would need information and luck to get away from Coldthistle permanently. “Well, I had best get started. Idle hands, and all that.”
God, now I was quoting him. But Mary was soothed, and she averted her green eyes just for a second, then glanced at me again from under her lashes. “If you do fancy help, please come and fetch me. It . . . You must be in such a state! So confused, I mean. Only . . . don’t think too harshly on me, on us, before you know all, please.”
I looked away from her, feeling ill. The way she spoke, her mannerisms, it was exactly like my imaginary friend, and it was too affecting. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”
“You should stay,” Mary said quietly, backing away. “I want you to, but only if you want to. What I mean is, I’m hoping real hard that you stay.”