Depravity (A Beastly Tale Book 1)(18)

Bryn didn't look too pleased when I presented her with a dozen fillets.

"I hope I marry soon," she muttered. "I won't tolerate another three weeks of fish."

Realization about what had actually happened to my old fishing pole hit  me, and I took care to hide the current pole well before returning to  clean up the fish remains. It was smelly business, but the garden did  well when I buried the remains.

Washing up outside with a harsh lye soap to rid myself of the smell, I  wasn't surprised to hear the flap of wings and a caw nearby. The crow  sat perched on the shed roof.

"Sorry," I said, watching the creature while I dried my hands. "I buried the remains of the others in the garden."

"I need you to buy some flour," Bryn called from inside.

I made a face. I had avoided the baker since he'd stopped by to speak with Father. Why would I march right into his store?

"Please ask Blye."

"I can't go!" Blye cried from the open window of our bedroom. "I'm  working on the dress to show the seamstress in the Water, and Father's  asked me to take in a shirt he somehow acquired."

It pleased me to know he didn't tell Blye the shirt came from me or,  rather, the estate through me. She would insist I go back and try to  procure more clothes. But I didn't like that she refused to fetch the  flour.

"Bryn, can't you go?"

"I'd rather not face..."

I sighed. Her need to avoid Tennen was due to wounded pride over her own  stupidity. My reason to avoid the baker was self-preservation. Still, I  knew I'd go.

"Fine. I'll need to change." I wouldn't walk into the village wearing a  threadbare shirt that easily displayed the outline of my bindings.

"Just hurry," Bryn said impatiently. Holding in the urge to make a face  at her, I marched to our room, where Blye sat on the bed concentrating  on her stitching, and quickly changed into the dress.

When I went to the kitchen to ask Bryn for the coin I needed for the  flour, she handed me peas. I wanted to scream. Instead, I stomped my way  into the village, marched through the front door of the bakery and  asked to speak with Mrs. Medunge. Of course, the baker's sister went to  fetch him instead.

"Benella," he said when he walked through the door from the back. "So lovely today. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to trade these peas for flour," I spoke woodenly, setting the  cloth wrapped bundle on the counter. It was the same cloth they'd loaned  for the flour the first time.

"I'm sorry, my dear-"

I would never be his dear.

"-but I can't trade. It's coin only. If others heard I accepted produce  for flour, no one would want to pay me coin again, and I'd be overrun  with produce."

"I understand." I scooped up the peas with two hands and left the cloth  on the counter. "The cloth is yours. Good day." I turned to leave.

"Wait. I hate seeing you leave upset. Come in back, and we'll talk."

I kept walking, and he called after me again. Next, I went to the  butcher and asked if he would trade a copper for the peas. He apologized  and explained that he'd taken trade in payment for the last several  days and had no coin, affirmation that the baker's assessment of trade  had a grain of truth. When I stepped out, the baker stood in the door  and silently waved me back across the street; but I had another option  left to me. Cutting diagonally across the road, I used the toe of my  boot to knock at the candle maker's door.                       
       
           



       

The candle maker opened the door for me after several long minutes, during which I endured the baker's constant stare.

"Benella, come in," he said with a small smile. "What do you have there?"

"Peapods. Would you be willing to trade? I need a copper to buy flour."

"Ah." He nodded in understanding, holding out his hands. My shoulders sagged in relief.

"What happened to the blunt silver?"

Groaning before I stopped myself, I admitted, "I gave it to someone who needed it more."

"Interesting that Mrs. Coalre came in just yesterday to buy a candle. I thought they were out of coin, too."

I remained quiet and watched him set the peas on his table so he could shuffle over to a shelf.

"I'm not one for peas, but you allowed me to hold the flowers without  asking for payment, so I can hardly deny you such a small request." He  plucked a coin from a very tiny pile and brought it to me.

"Thank you," I whispered, grateful for his kindness.

"Go buy your flour, dear," he said with a small wave as he settled back at his chair.

I promised myself that I would venture to the estate soon and circle it  as many times as needed until it surrendered some more of those rare  blooms.

The baker brightened when he saw me step from the candle maker's but  frowned at my empty hands. I marched up to him, pulled a cloth from my  bag-one of Father's old neckcloths-and handed him the coin without  trying to step inside.

"However much flour that will buy me, please," I spoke softly, trying to keep the anger from my tone.

He turned and handed both to his sister.

"A handful, no more," he cautioned her before turning back to me with a slight scowl.

We stood several feet apart, but I felt like I faced him toe to toe. I  kept my face impassive until he heaved a sigh and let his eyes drift to  my chest. Thankfully, his sister didn't leave him much time to stare.

Accepting the bag, I quickly retreated, meeting up with Father as he left the school.

"What have you been up to?" he asked, eyeing the street behind me.

"Bryn sent me for flour." I'd kept my tone pleasant, but he paused to study me.

"Very unkind," he said before walking again.

"It wasn't intentionally so," I said, defending her. "She's upset that  Tennen hasn't tried to offer for her even though she knows you wouldn't  agree to the match. She thought he had affection for her and isn't  seeing anything beyond her wounded pride."

He said nothing. When we arrived home, I handed the flour to a mildly  surprised Bryn and went to change back into my trousers. To occupy  myself, I weeded the small garden while dinner cooked. In the quiet, I  remembered the crow and looked to the roof of the shed.

The crow was gone.

* * * *

I believed the breaded fish tasted delightful but kept that thought to  myself, fearing for my new pole. Everyone ate in silence, and I wondered  why. They didn't leave me wondering long.

"Do you think we'll hear anything tonight?" Blye asked.

Father set his fork aside and steepled his fingers. "I wouldn't presume  to guess. The note was notoriously brief, and we have no idea if the man  in question lingered in the area. Travel may have been the reason for  his request to take you with him last night. We can only wait and see."

She went back to eating in silence, but the conversation had me  straining to hear outside the cottage. Would we walk out in the morning  to find another note on the door?

* * * *

The next morning, nothing waited outside. Bryn started packing in  earnest while Blye went back to her quiet sewing. Father, having no  students to teach that day, insisted on walking with me as I foraged.  Typically on the days he didn't need to teach, he used the time in his  study to research. Having moved many of his books already, no doubt his  reduced selection had something to do with his wish to accompany me.

The sun shone brightly as we walked toward the estate.

"Nothing from the mysterious suitor last night?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"To your sisters' disappointment, no." He kept pace with me, watching  the trees around us. Soon we came to the part where the mist crept along  the bases of the trees.

"Peculiar," he said, looking up.

"What is?" I looked up but only saw the same wild, tangled vegetation I always did.

"The vines in the trees appear to be moving," he murmured, tilting his  head to watch. "I heard the ones near the wall move as if alive, but  this far from it? I wonder..."

I knew they moved, but said nothing, not wanting to explain how I knew.  The night that Tennen had almost caught me still filled my dreams with  running through the darkness.                       
       
           



       

"The place I usually visit is just ahead. The last time it offered  peapods in such abundance I almost cried for not having my bag with me."

"Odd of you to leave without it," he said, focusing on me again.

Inwardly cursing my slip, I smiled sheepishly and shrugged. The mists  thickened the further we went toward the estate until we only saw the  immediate area around us. I wondered at the unusually menacing feel of  it.

"Perhaps we should head back," I whispered, stopping abruptly to study the mist around us.