“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.