“Yes, although I have had mixed results venturing further into the house.”
“Then we need to find the next part of the spell and dismantle it as soon as possible.”
“That we do, but today you need rest.”
“You said yourself that we are running out of time!”
“I need to make up for time lost in this section of the house,” Thornwood said. “And you need to recover enough that one blast of magic won’t blow you over. That includes physical rest. When I spoke to Mr.Hobb yesterday, he agreed with me. A boy from the village is coming up the next few days to help him.”
“So, what do you suggest that I do? Embroider?” Mouse asked.
“No, you will visit your clergyman. He was here yesterday, causing a fuss. I’ve arranged for my driver to escort you there.”
“John visited yesterday?” Horror flooded over Mouse. John knew nothing of her Faerie bargain, and she had not even supplied him with Thornwood’s mortal cover story. Her cowardice had finally caught up to her.
“He did. I told him you were too ill to be seen, and he threatened to hit me with a broom handle if I laid a hand on you. It was allextremely dramatic. Thus, the best use of your time while you recover is to calm him down. If we want to get back on schedule, the last thing we need is an interruption from a mob of angry villagers.”
“You’re right. I’ve been terribly remiss in that corner. I should have at least told him something,” Mouse said. “I don’t want John to worry over me unnecessarily.”
“Considering how reckless you are, I think he worries just the right amount. However, I would prefer he had turned his ire on you, rather than me.”
“Very gallant of you.” She peeked out the clean windows, taking a moment to wonder if she’d ever seen them this clear of dirt.
“It looks like rain. My driver will meet you outside in five minutes,” Thornwood said. “And do take this animal with you—I can do more without it underfoot.”
“Want to go on a trip, Smudge?” Mouse asked. The dragon-dog bounced merrily, and they left Thornwood to his work.
Thornwood’s car rumbled in the drive, a sleek black line against nature. The driver was cloaked in shadows and did not move to open the door. Mouse did not mind, as she had opened many automobile doors by herself over the years, but it was off-putting when matched with the overly formal vehicle and uniform.
Mouse ducked inside with her coat pulled tight. Smudge slid in beside her, shaking out her fur as Mouse tugged the door closed. The interior was warm, and the air smelled of magic and cigarettes.
“Sorry if I kept you waiting,” Mouse said. The driver did not look at her, instead pulling out onto the drive. “John’s vicarage is just beyond the woods, but we’ll have to go through the village to get there. Funny how it’s sometimes more sensible to ride a bicycle or walk than to drive.”
He was silent, his gaze focused ahead. Smudge tilted her head,nose twitching. They rode through the village in silence. Mouse could see familiar faces as they passed the bakery, the school, and the town center. She wondered if parading her out in front of the villagers in his car was part of Thornwood’s attempt to strengthen their cover story. If so, he certainly chose the best time of day to send her.
Bells studded the bunting in the town square, silver glowing against the pink, yellow, and green triangles. She had forgotten the Spring Festival was near, coinciding perfectly with the deadline to finish work on Thistlemarsh. Everyone was at the market vying for the best deal before their neighbors snatched them up.
Mrs.Colt waved at her from her bread stand, her face broad and jolly. Mouse waved back, aware of how wan her smile must be in comparison.
She hadn’t practiced much lately, at least not with other people. She realized with a jolt that Thornwood and Mickelwaithe had seen her smile more than anyone else had in years, even John. She felt like a traitor as she tumbled out of the car and through John’s garden.
Smudge sat patiently at her feet as Mouse knocked, panting steady as a clock ticking. No one came to the door. Mouse felt foolish in her dress, with her hair done up and melting in the rain, like a little girl dressed in her mother’s clothes, unsuccessfully disguised as a lady. Determined, she knocked again.
There was no answer.
“Let’s go,” she whispered to Smudge. She turned up her coat collar, annoyed with herself for not remembering to take an umbrella on her way out.
“Mouse?” John emerged from the path through the woods. He held a sensible gray umbrella, and the sight made Mouse bark with laughter before hurtling toward him.
He met her halfway, holding the umbrella above them as she threw her arms around his shoulders.
“I just went to see you,” he said, an uneasy smile sliding into place.
“I was about to leave. But, luckily, here you are,” Mouse said, shivering.
John tensed. She turned to see what put him on edge. Thornwood’s car purred on the roadside. The chauffeur still stared forward at the wheel, unmoving.
“Lucky indeed,” John said. “You have been locked away in that house by that new friend of yours too long. The villagers have nothing else to talk about but the scandal.”