Keeper of Enchanted Rooms(37)

“Why did you live with Mr. Portendorfer? Are you . . . estranged from your family?”

“Oh. Ha.” He returned the book, moving his gaze squarely to the shelf in front of him. “We are that, yes. Family politics, really. You know. General nonsense.” He shifted for the door. “Say, where is Miss Taylor? I wanted her opinion on something. Be right back to do”—he waved his hand broadly—“this.”

And with that, he slipped into the hallway, evading the conversation entirely.

Hulda wondered if it would have been better not to have asked.





Chapter 15


September 15, 1846, Blaugdone Island, Rhode Island

The following morning, Merritt and Hulda took the enchanted skiff across the Narragansett Bay at speed. Although cramped for two, it got them safely to shore. From there, they hopped an unenchanted coach, as most were, to Portsmouth, where they would look into the matter of the unwanted ghost. All in all, the trip took about an hour.

Merritt helped Hulda off the coach and guided her to the edge of the busy street. “Nearly forgot the rest of the world exists, being out on that island.” Hands in his trouser pockets, he took in the tall buildings and the numerous faces, the smell of horses and something sweet baking nearby, the sight of cobbled roads.

“And much more of it outside Portsmouth.” Hulda tugged on the hem of her gloves, securing them to her fingers, looking even more like a faux Englishwoman. “Best for you to start at the city building and then move on to the local library. I’ll accompany you to the first.”

Merritt frowned and moved in step with her. “You make it sound like you’re not attending.”

She peeked at him over her glasses. “I told you I was visiting BIKER today.”

“I thought that was after.”

Hulda clicked her tongue. “Two birds with one stone, Mr. Fernsby. I hardly think you need me holding your hand while you inquire about your property.”

Merritt grinned. “Mrs. Larkin, are you flirting with me?” The morbid shock that covered her face made him laugh out loud. “Offering to hold my hand in a public place—”

She whapped him with her umbrella, which had been hanging off her forearm. “Do be appropriate, Mr. Fernsby!” She blew out a puff of air. “I shall have to warn any future replacement that you have a tendency to go rogue.”

He tripped over his own feet. “Replacement? Already?”

They paused on a corner. A wagon passed by. “Of course, Mr. Fernsby. I’m not intended as a permanent employee. My specialties lie with identifying and taming an enchanted home’s magic and training staff to maintain it. Then I move on to the next project—wherever it is BIKER needs me. Besides, once this business with the wizard is complete, it will be up to you whether or not you want to continue on with a routine housekeeper, maid of all work, or not. BIKER won’t be involved once the enchantments are moot.” Her voice dipped with disappointment. “There are relevant résumés in the documents I gave you.” She rose one eyebrow before crossing the street.

Merritt hurried to keep up with her, his stomach sinking. “B-But I don’t want a new housekeeper or maid of whatever. I’ve just gotten used to you. You want me to do this horrid dance all over again?”

“I don’t recall dancing.” But her lip ticked up, which was always a good sign.

“Oh please, Mrs. Larkin.” They reached the next corner, and he grasped both her hands and dropped to his knees. Her eyes went wide as dollars. “Please stay!”

She jerked from his grip. “Mr. Fernsby! People are looking!”

The utter horror that painted her features had him popping up off the sidewalk immediately. “I suppose I can’t embarrass you into staying on longer?”

She gave him a stern look. “I beg you to keep your gregarious disposition to yourself.” Her mouth worked. “I suppose I could speak to BIKER about temporarily extending my stay.”

He grinned. “Then you didn’t request the nastiest and most expensive of your acquaintances to assail my house?”

Her mouth was hesitant to smile, but he got a decent arc out of it. “Obviously that was an exaggeration.”

She started walking, so he fell into step behind her. “Means we’re good friends, that,” he teased, trying to irk a smile from her. “I’m thinking, given your inevitable abandonment of—”

Hulda stopped midstride, causing Merritt to bump into her shoulder. He expected her to whirl around and scold him, but her eyes remained fixed on something across the street, in the direction of a clock shop. Her stance was stiff, her face pale, like she was going to be sick.

Merritt gingerly touched her arm. “Hulda?”

She stepped back, nearly colliding with him, into a narrow alley between buildings, never taking her eyes off . . .

Merritt couldn’t tell. He squinted, examining the shop, the people next to it, passing by—

Hulda let out a long breath.

“Are you all right?” he pressed.

She shook herself. Smoothed her skirt. “I . . . am perfectly fine, thank you.”

“What were you looking at?”

“It’s nothing, Mr. Fernsby.”

“It’s obviously something.” He stepped in front of her, blocking both her view and her way out. The muscles in his arms and chest twitched, like he was ready for a physical confrontation.