They looked back at Thistlemarsh from the lawn. For the first time, Mouse noted Mickelwaithe working in line with the fire brigade. His black coat was open, revealing a black undershirt and a thin swath of his bare chest.
“I wonder if he owns any clothes in another color,” Mouse said. When John did not quip back, she glanced at him. His gaze remained on the Faerie servant, particularly the gap in his coat. When John caught her looking, he coughed, his ears turning a bright shade of red.
“What?” he demanded.
“A pagan, Reverend Martin? What will the church say?”
“Oh, shut up,” he snapped around the beginning of a traitorous smile.
Mrs.Colt, the baker’s wife, arrived, pressing a muffin on Mouse with her eyes full of sorrow. John used the distraction to shuffle away toward the action and the Faerie servant.
“Everything gone in minutes, and after all your hard work this last month,” Mrs.Colt lamented. “I know you’ll stay with Reverend Martin, but should anything change, my door is always open.”
Mouse barely had time to thank her for the offer and the muffin before others came in from the innkeeper’s wife, the schoolmistress, and one of the farmers’ wives. She thanked them all, unsure of what to do with her hands. Eventually, John caught wind of her panic and ushered the women away to help the fire brigade.
“Sorry—I should have noticed earlier,” he said.
“They were very kind.”
“Kind, but overbearing? I think they are funneling all their guilt and curiosity into you.”
“Curiosity?” Mouse asked. “I thought you said the magic is mostly forgotten. Are they curious about the fire?”
John snorted.
“I’m afraid you will have to spell it out for me. I’m a bit exhausted, if you can believe it,” Mouse snapped.
Chastened, John nodded past Mouse’s shoulder. She turned to follow his gaze. Thornwood huddled on a bench far up the drive, separate from the villagers.
“Right,” Mouse said. “I better go and talk to him.”
“Not before you eat that damn muffin. Otherwise, all my power won’t keep the village women away from you.”
“As you command.” It was gone in three hasty bites. If asked later, Mouse would not recall if it was cranberry or poppy seed, only that itwas the best muffin she had ever had. Another cup of tea followed, supplied by a patient John.
“All I seem to do lately is ladle tea into your mouth.”
“It is your religious duty,” Mouse said primly.
He chuckled. “I’m glad you are back to your old self again. You had me worried last night. You are taking this extraordinarily well.”
“Never fear; not even Faerie magic can hold me back from teasing you,” Mouse said, finishing her cup.
“I would expect nothing less from one of your ilk,” he said. “Now, hurry up and talk to Thornwood before he starts growing moss.”
Thornwood had not moved at all. His mug shook in his hand. His eyes focused on the hills beyond Tithe. In the distance, a shadowy train cut through the landscape. A pillar of smoke billowed behind it, pale against the growing darkness. He winced when Mouse sat down beside him. Neither of them spoke until the train was long out of sight.
“I owe you an apology,” Thornwood said at last. “Although I know it does not mean much, considering my offenses.”
“I will hear it nonetheless,” Mouse said.
He nodded. “It was my intention upon first meeting you to trick you into giving me Thistlemarsh Hall.”
“To give to the Faerie King in exchange for your mother,” she interrupted. He nodded. “I see. Did you sabotage the renovations to force me into marriage?”
“No. At first, I thought I would be able to deal for it. Originally, I was going to make a deal with you for it in exchange for my help, but you were prepared by your book. Then, I thought the Faerie King would prefer a repaired house. It would put me in his good graces, and also endear me to you. Easier to make a deal when the person likes you. So I decided I would bargain for it once you owned Thistlemarsh properly. But the house started fighting back, and I was not sure what to do.”
“How were you going to convince me to give you Thistlemarsh, before you knew I’d lost?” Thornwood stared at the horizon. Mouse sighed. “Will your original plan disgust me?”