Chapter 26

March 10, 1847, London, England

Merritt laughed at the way Owein bounded through the slow-sprouting foliage the moment he laid eyes on Kegan and the gray hawk, tongue hanging out like it was a warm summer day. It did seem a bit warmer today, somewhere in the fifties, though perhaps their long walk out into the forest had helped. Owein had woken that day eager to go out to see the Druids, though they had no official appointment to do so. He’d had a dream that felt like progress, so he’d explained that morning, but for whatever reason, he felt the hawk and the boy would grasp the meaning better than Merritt did.

Merritt did understand, in his own way. He knew the bliss of relief, coming out of darkness.

He found Sean first, tanning the hide of a boar. Merritt wondered if the animal had been hunted in these woods, and if it would have broken the strict poaching laws England had. He assumed the Druids didn’t care either way. Sean nodded a greeting, as his hands were busy. “Good morning to you!”

“Morning,” Merritt offered. “Glad you haven’t moved too far.” It had taken him and Owein a little longer than usual to find them. “How much longer will you stay?”

Not long, sounded a voice notably feminine. Merritt turned to see a doe step out from amidst the trees, limber legs carefully picking their way over the uneven ground. I’m glad you came out to see us, Merritt. I’d thought to send Fallon to fetch you so we could speak.

It took Merritt a moment to recognize the animal. “Morning, Morgance.”

The deer seemed to smile.

“How is he faring?” Sean asked, looking the way the children had gone.

“Good. Better, certainly. We’ve another five days or so with the Leiningens.” Based off the original fortnight that had been proposed. Hulda might return sooner, if work demanded it. She was still a bit restless over that telegram from Myra, but she wanted to squeeze out as much augury workshopping as she could while she was here.

So soon. It was more a statement than a question.

Sean leaned over and rinsed off his hands in a bucket, then dried them on his slacks as he stood. “We’ve been chatting about that. Here.” He moved closer to Morgance, to a leather satchel propped up against a tree trunk. It was almost camouflaged there, something Merritt imagined was intentional. “We prefer pigeons,” he explained as he dug around in it, “but I imagine you don’t want to take care of a bird while you’re here.” He pulled out a stone and crossed to Merritt, handing it to him. It was long and cylindrical, selenite.

“A communion stone?” Merritt asked.

“I have a friend not far from here who can enchant them. If you cross the Atlantic, neither this nor a pigeon will be able to reach us here. But while you’re here, and if you do extend your stay, that will be able to reach us.”

“I don’t know how long we’d extend, if we could.” Merritt turned the selenite over in his hands. “These are expensive. Should I return it before we go?”

“Keep it.”

Is Owein not staying on?

Merritt was unsure how much Morgance knew. She’d said the royal family weren’t the only ones with eyes and ears. “No, he’ll be returning with me and Hulda. For now.”

“You don’t have to return.”

Merritt met the taller man’s eyes. “Pardon?”

Somewhere beyond a copse of trees, Owein barked and Kegan shrieked with delight.

“You’re welcome to come back to Ireland with us,” Sean continued. “You’ve Druidic skill; you’d be accepted among our folk. Owein as well.”

Merritt gaped for a moment. “I ...”

Let go of the material world, Merritt, Morgance said, coming closer. The British will always have their nobility, but our kind is dwindling. We don’t want to lose the ways of our ancestors. Soon enough, there will be none of us left.

“It’s a good life,” Sean offered. “Simple, and without some of the amenities you may be used to, but they’re good folk. We could teach you to hone your abilities better. And Owein. We’ve none with his spellwork, but he and the others already get on so well.”

“They do,” Merritt agreed, then cleared his throat from the effects of communion. “They get on splendidly.” Running a hand back through his hair, he sighed. “Honestly, if we’d met even a year ago, I think I would have said yes. The idea of leaving it all behind and starting fresh would have been appealing.” He dropped his hand, feeling ... not quite sad. Something like nostalgic. Wistful, perhaps. “I appreciate all you’ve done for the both of us, truly. But I’ve already started anew, in a way. I’ve a life and a family”—old and new—“back in the States. And Hulda.”

Sean nodded. “I had a feeling that would be your answer, but we thought we’d offer—”

As he spoke, Morgance’s form warped, sandy fur turning to pale skin, ears growing long and shifting into hair. Within two breaths, she was a human woman again, a very naked human woman, and she draped her arms around Merritt’s neck before he could fully process what had happened. “Please, Merritt, surely you must reconsider.”

Merritt’s arms immediately swung out like he was surrendering to watchmen so as not to touch her. His body flashed cold and hot at once. He tried to step back, but Morgance rooted them both.

And suddenly he knew exactly what Hulda had seen last Friday.

“Uh. Um.” Merritt shifted his eyes skyward. “This isn’t really—”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said softly, “taking you as a mate.”

Merritt shut his eyes entirely and tried to think of anything else. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I do think clothing would be a good idea.”

“Mor,” Sean warned, but didn’t try to pry her off. Apparently this was not unusual behavior for her.

“If you would please unhand me,” Merritt pleaded.

“You needn’t be so bashful,” she said, but did loosen her grip. “There’s no shame in it.”

Merritt stepped back, keeping his eyes averted. “I know a woman in London who would disagree with you.”

A few heartbeats passed. “Take the night to think on it.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary.” He made himself incredibly interested in a small patch of clover on the forest floor. “I do appreciate the, um, offer. I do. But I have every intention of returning to Rhode Island and marrying my housekeeper.”

He heard a rustle of cloth and dared to look back; Sean had settled a cloak over Morgance’s shoulders, covering most of her. He murmured something into her ear. Morgance frowned. “Very well,” she said. “But our arches will always bloom for you. If you ever change your mind, come to the Lagan Valley. It wouldn’t take us long to find you.”

Merritt nodded, turned the selenite stone over in his hands, then left to find Owein.

Hulda sat at the wooden table across from Professor Griffiths, her hands flat, palms down, on the surface. The professor had a silver spring-driven clock in front of him, ticking away the time with brass hands, sounding like a metronome in the otherwise silent room.

As she studied the pattern of the movement, Hulda’s vision changed. She saw Professor Griffiths, wearing a different suit than what he wore now, collecting his things into a briefcase. He tossed a coat over his arm, adjusted his glasses, and stepped out the door.

The vision ended. Professor Griffiths reached forward and paused the cradle. “What did you see?”

Pulling back from the table, Hulda rubbed her eyes, the first prick of a concentration headache starting. She’d had quite a few of those since beginning these lessons. “I saw you, actually. Nothing important, merely you collecting yourself at the end of a day’s work and departing.”

“Were you focused on me?” The corners of his lips ticked upward.

She warmed. “You are situated behind the spring-driven clock.”

He nodded. “But of course.” He set the cradle aside, behind a stack of ledgers. “In truth, Miss Larkin, you’ve been an exemplary student. I don’t have a lot more I can teach you, but I’m more than happy to help you through exercises as you see fit. They are often better carried out with assistance.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I appreciate your time. I do feel like I have a little more of a handle on it. Best not to tell anyone, lest I get more requests for fortune-telling.”

He chuckled. “Of course, such is the bane of any augurist.”

She reached for her bag.

“The exercises?”

Pulling the bag onto her lap, Hulda collected her things. “Of course I would appreciate the practice, but I intend to return to Boston next week.” She gave him a grateful, earnest smile. “I am truly appreciative. Are you sure I can’t compensate you?”

He waved a hand, dismissing the notion. “No.” A beat. “That is, not with money.”

She snapped her bag shut. “Pardon?”

“I have no desire for monetary compensation for our time,” he clarified, knitting his fingers together and setting his hands atop the table. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. You’ve a keen mind, Hulda. It’s hard to find that in a woman, at least in my circles. I’d like to get to know it better.”

Her stomach tightened. “I apologize; I don’t understand.”

“Give me a chance to change your mind.” His resolute expression seemed set in marble, and his eyes never left hers. “Allow me to take you to dinner tonight.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks, but Hulda was too startled to care that she had reddened. “P-Professor Griffiths, are you ... are you insinuating an intention to court me?” She felt foolish even asking! She was not a desiderative woman, one an esteemed educator would desire—

“Yes, I am.”

Her jaw dropped. Her brain emptied. She gaped like a freshly caught fish with a hook still in its mouth.

“As I said,” he continued, “give me a chance to change your mind. Mr. Fernsby is an amicable fellow, I’ll give him that. But you’ve no legal promise to him. I merely wish you to consider—”

“No.”

She hardly registered the word leaving her mouth; it was the abrupt ending of Professor Griffiths’s plea that brought her thoughts back together. She swallowed, spine straightening out of habit. She clutched her bag—not tightly or with any dramaturgy, but because it was there. “That is,” she amended, “I am incredibly flattered. Truly. And I would certainly have considered it in another time and place. You are an ... admirable suitor.” Was she, Hulda Larkin , really having this conversation? Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined having to reject such a man!

She forced her posture to relax a fraction. “But whatever you may think of him, I am deeply in love with Merritt Fernsby, and nothing will sway my decision to marry him.”

Professor Griffiths smiled. It was a small smile, a sad one, but he was polite and nodded. “But of course” was all he said, nothing more. Not wishing to make the situation graceless, Hulda wished him well and rose from her seat, taking even, measured footsteps to the door and down the stairs. Her heart beat ... not quickly, but firmly, as though her body were still digesting the furor of the offer.

She and Professor Griffiths did have several similarities. Once upon a time, she would have been utterly rapturous at his interest. But she realized as she opened the door to the cool afternoon, Hulda had no desire to court herself. She didn’t want to be immutable, never changing or growing. She wanted to spend her life with a man who would challenge her, forcing her to stretch and evolve. Someone who made her think differently, who argued the other side, who made her laugh.

Her strides paused on the street, forcing a chimney sweep to step around her. That was it, wasn’t it? That was what she wanted . And she had it in Merritt. And Merritt wanted her for the same reasons. He relished her independence. They’d been to prison together, but he would never imprison her . Being a married woman didn’t have to change who she was.

She searched for those anxieties, the bouquet of worries she’d been keeping close to her chest these past months, and couldn’t find them. Instead, she found resolve. She would marry Merritt Fernsby. She trusted Merritt Fernsby, with all that she had. There was not a better person in all the world she could give her heart to.

Grinning like a little girl, Hulda quickened her step, eager to return to Cyprus Hall, to him , and to their future together.

She found him in the guest drawing room, a picked-at tray of meat and cheese near him, his feet propped by the fire. He must have been out this morning. He leaned against the armrest of his chair, a book in one hand, the other casually knotted up in his hair. He looked up as she approached, and grinned.

“Well, your premonition came true.”

Hulda froze a few paces from him. Her mind whirled ... Which premonition? Cora? Or ...

Merritt snapped the book closed and sat upright, setting it beside the tray, uncaring that he hadn’t marked his place. “Did you know that when a Druid changes into an animal, she doesn’t take her clothes with her?”

Hulda sank into the chair across from him as he recounted his outing with the Druids and their offer to accept him into their clan, and Morgance’s very direct method of trying to persuade him. He didn’t attempt to palliate the story at all, including all the details of the incident, which matched up perfectly with what Hulda had augured.

“And then we left.” He laughed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have the stone still. Don’t think I’ll use it. Might be a bit awkward. Honestly, I might have been more of a mess if you hadn’t warned me. How was your morning?”

Hulda blinked. Then laughed. Harder than she needed to, but she couldn’t help it. Old stress bubbled up and escaped her on the wings of mirth, and she laughed until her ribs ached. To think, while she was being propositioned by the professor, Merritt was being seduced by a Druid!

“Is the thought of me being so fetching to the Irish funny?” He grinned.

Hulda put a hand on her breast and forced deep breaths to calm down. “It’s all lunacy, isn’t it? These situations we find ourselves in.”

He shrugged. “Keeps life interesting.”

She met his eyes. “I love you, Merritt Fernsby.”

He crooked an eyebrow at that. He knew as much, but Hulda didn’t say it as often as she should. She was still overcoming her allergy to expressing herself.

“I love you, too,” he said.

And without bothering to check that the door to the room was shut, Hulda crossed to him, dug her hands into his unkempt hair, and kissed him.

April 12 couldn’t come too soon.

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