Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology, #1)(65)
She glanced at Ogden, feeling a sudden stab of unease. What if she was wrong? What if it was more than she thought, and the would-be thief came back to finish what he’d started? The thought of losing Ogden was too much for Elsie. She would crumble to nothing were he ever taken from her. He was the closest thing to family she had.
Pulling away from the destructive thoughts, she added, “I’ll talk to the glazier and get the pane replaced as soon as possible. And the locks changed.”
“Thank you.” Ogden sipped a cup of tea. “I think that would be for the best.”
Elsie managed to be amiable for the duration of luncheon. In truth, Emmeline was hard to stay angry at—she was like the little sister Elsie never had. Or rather, the little sister Elsie could not quite remember. Her siblings were vague shadows on her memory; most of what she knew of them came from Agatha Hall, whose memory wasn’t terribly sharp, either. One would think a girl of six would remember her family and what they were called, but for some reason Elsie just . . . couldn’t. Something about that time, somewhere between waking up in the Halls’ home and sitting in a row of other children at the workhouse, was broken. Dark and dense and heavy in her mind. She did think she had a brother named John, or perhaps Jonathon. Of course, John Camden was such a common name she had never been able to find any leads. Sometimes Elsie wondered if her family was a fancy she’d invented out of loneliness and the Halls had merely played along until they tired of it.
Finished, Elsie helped Emmeline clear the table until a customer came. She spoke with him—yes, Ogden did do busts, and yes, he was the one from the paper—and organized a few things, placed Ogden’s work orders where he could see them, and set off for the glazier. It was a standard-sized pane the intruder had broken, so she didn’t need to deliver measurements. The glazier would come tomorrow morning to fix the window. And the blacksmith, who also knew locksmithing, would come by that evening to evaluate their security.
“Oh, Miss Camden!” crooned a canary-like voice as Elsie started back home. She knew the voice well; she’d eavesdropped on it many times when she didn’t have a novel reader to occupy her. Now, however, it made her cringe.
Alexandra Wright. And her sister, Rose, right behind her.
Elsie’s body tensed like her bones had turned to vises. She couldn’t recall a single time she’d heard either woman actually say her name, let alone speak to her. Elsie preferred to remain invisible, just as the Cowls did. And right now, she wished to be a cat that could turn tail and clamber up a drainpipe.
Unfortunately, magic did not work that way.
The sisters approached with suspiciously wide smiles and beady eyes. “We’re so dreadfully sorry for the break-in! How horrid! And so fortunate that no one was hurt.”
Elsie glanced down the road, toward the stonemasonry shop. “Not badly, at least,” she said.
“Emmeline was not specific at all, poor thing.” The two exchanged a look that was supposed to appear concerned, but their acting wasn’t up to snuff. “Surely the perpetrator didn’t go through your room as well? How frightening!”
Something hot boiled at the base of Elsie’s throat. “Yes, very. Too frightening to speak of. If you’ll excuse me.”
She pushed past the duo.
“Oh, but Miss Camden! We’re simply trying to console you as any loving neighbor should—”
Elsie kept walking, lengthening her strides until she practically ran. Perhaps it was rude, but she didn’t mind being rude to rude people. They’ll forget me and move on to someone else by next week.
She’d have to warn Emmeline to stay away from them.
Arriving home out of breath, Elsie barely had time to hang up her hat before Emmeline, sleeves rolled to her elbows, popped out of the kitchen and said, “Elsie, I’m to send you to the sitting room as soon as you’re home. We have a guest. He arrived not ten minutes ago!”
“Oh?” She touched the sides of her hair, smoothing down loose strands. “A customer?”
Emmeline shook her head, eyes wide. “He is quite the sight! Straight from the Americas, I’m sure!”
Elsie froze while her stomach slapped against the floor.
When she moved again, it was to bound up the stairs.
Her limbs buzzed with energy as she approached the door to the sitting room, which was slightly ajar. She quickly shook out her skirt and smoothed back her hair. The door hinges squeaked when she entered. Both men in the room looked over, though Bacchus had to turn around in his chair to do so.
A surge of excitement swept through her middle. Bacchus. Here. In her house. He looked so radically out of place Elsie wondered if she’d hit her head fleeing from the Wright sisters and this was the wishful creation of her unconscious mind. She was terrified and gleeful at the same time, similar to how she felt when reading the climax of a good book. Except this was much more visceral. This was real.
What are you doing here? she almost blurted, but the double time of her heartbeat created a blessed disconnect between her thoughts and her mouth.
“Elsie, your good friend Master Kelsey dropped by to see if we were all right,” Ogden explained. “That paper has certainly circulated the news quickly.”
Master. Had it happened already? Cold disappointment tempered the storm in her stomach. But—
He’d come to see if she was all right? Didn’t that mean he cared about her welfare? It wasn’t yet evening—how quickly had he ridden over after hearing the news?