John went still. His face scrunched against the idea. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”
“What would you do if you met a Faerie today?”
“Ask it questions. Or, more likely, avoid it if I could. They are famous for their duplicity, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
John nodded once. “Then I would do my best to keep away. Besides, I doubt Faeries care for the church much. After all, aren’t we credited for driving them out of Britain?”
“I think that was the snakes.”
“And what about you? What would you do if you met one in the village today?”
“If I was wise, I would take your advice and turn the other way.”
“But you never take my advice,” John said with a grin.
“Try not to push yourself too hard today,” John said as Mouse mounted his bicycle. The familiar feeling of the handlebars under her palms calmed her, bringing her back to the happier days of her childhood. “You did travel halfway across the world this week. Remember, fainting from exhaustion will hinder your improvement plans.”
Mouse flicked at his arm. “I promise to take a nap midday. Happy?”
He nodded. “Do you have enough food? I can send the baker’s boy to the house with some bread and cheese around lunch.”
Mouse was about to refuse, then stopped. How much food was atThistlemarsh? The housekeeper had gone to stock up on supplies before she left, but Mouse was not sure what those supplies were. There could be an entire storeroom of prunes, for all she knew.
“That’s a good idea,” she said. “Thank you.”
John smiled. “Accepting help? You must be exhausted after all.”
“Charming,” Mouse said. She kicked the brake stand back.
“My offer still stands. I will be out during the day, but you are welcome to come to the cottage anytime. The key is still in the rosebushes under—”
“The freckled stone,” Mouse finished for him.
“Exactly,” he said. There was a notch between his eyebrows, framed by the worry in his eyes.
“Honestly, I’ll be fine,” Mouse insisted. “I’m more worried about you. Those widows and orphans can be vicious when left unattended.”
He laughed. “You would be surprised how true that is.”
Dawson was the last servant to leave Thistlemarsh besides Mr.Hobb. Mouse knew it was happening, but the sight of him leaving still shook her. She would be alone at Thistlemarsh for the first time in her life.
He made a show of stacking his bags at the front door rather than at the servant entrance. Mouse knew he would have found this kind of behavior unseemly any other time, but it was just her now, and Old Tom Moore had told him that it would cost more to drive around the back since the road was so unruly.
Mouse realized she had never seen Dawson without his uniform. A knot twisted in her stomach, and she could not tell if it was resentment or regret.
I would have loved you as much as I love Mr.Hobb, if you had let me.
“Thank you for allowing me to wait here,” he said to Mouse, his hands tucked behind his back. The cavernous hallway echoed with his words. Behind his head in the tapestry, a grinning embroidered Faerie whispered to its neighbor, eyes alight with malice.
“It’s no trouble,” Mouse said. Her fingers twitched to start work on the Hall, avoiding these last few minutes of awkwardness with the butler, but all the “good manners” drilled into her from her youth demanded she stay put. Still, the air that hung between them made her skin itch.
“I’ve been at Thistlemarsh Hall nearly all my life,” Dawson said suddenly. “I started as a kitchen boy. Can you believe that?”
Mouse nodded, although truthfully, she could not imagine Dawson as anything but the scowling old ghoul of her childhood. He was as much a part of Thistlemarsh as the carved front door or the stone towers, and just as unchanging.
“During my time, I have questioned decisions that Lord Dewhurst made, although I have understood them. Often, they were the correct choices for the sake of the title and the Hall, if not for the lord himself.”