Chapter 4 #2
“I’m sorry for running into you.” I glanced over my shoulder where Ms. Bates and Mrs. Bennet were both chattering with animated gestures. The two kept glancing at me through the glass. “I need to go, but are you both okay?”
“We’re fine.” Maris opened a bag and checked the contents. “And it looks like Lady Catherine’s ornaments are fine too.”
“Okay, good.” They were probably on their way to set up Lady Catherine’s stall for the ornament drive at the annual Christmas market.
She was a proud old fae and probably didn’t want to come into town yet since she knew word was spreading about her not being asked to participate in the ceremony. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too,” they said in unison before walking off.
I waved at them and hurried the opposite direction with one final glance back at the bakery.
After a moment, I pulled out my gingerbread cookies to eat, and they were gone before I’d even made it another block.
I passed Mansfield Book Haven, which had glowing runes etched into the corner of the glass to keep frost from covering the display windows.
“Charlotte!”
I turned at the familiar voice, then blinked in surprise.
“Firth?” He had a bit of scruff around his jaw from being out all night, hiding his face’s usual softness, but the oversized sweater and pants from last night were gone.
Instead, he wore a tailored wool coat, a cashmere turtleneck, and nice slacks.
Without his baggy clothes, he was surprisingly fit. “What happened to you?”
“I was with the police. Did you forget? Did something happen to your memory too?”
“No, I mean with all this.” I gestured to his outfit and his hair which sat in soft, tousled waves. “What happened to your clothes from yesterday?”
“Oh, that.” He glanced down at his outfit as if reassessing it, his fingers tapping a short pattern on his pants.
“An officer said none of my clothes fit correctly. I explained I prefer soft, worn fabrics because scratchy ones distract me. But he said you might like it better if I wore clothes that fit. So I went shopping this morning and picked up some new stuff. It’s just as soft as my old clothes, but I thought you might like them better.
” He joined me on the sidewalk. “Do you?”
They made him look a bit too much like Hugh, who had always dressed so well. But I couldn’t deny that he looked nice. “They look good on you.”
“Good.” He ran a hand down the front of his sweater and gave a single satisfied nod. “Also, you don’t need to call me Firth. You can call me William.”
“William?” I blinked and glanced at him. “But you told me to call you Firth before.”
“Firth is my middle name and it’s what I decided to go by when I became a pastor because Lady Catherine preferred it.
” He shifted his weight, then rubbed the side of his neck twice before clasping his hands tightly in front of him.
“But I’d love it if you called me William.
It feels more proper for a wife to call a husband by his first name. ”
I stared at the snow-covered sidewalk. Calling him by his first name wasn’t too much considering we were married, but it felt like something he was only saying because of his amnesia, especially since he’d never mentioned it before.
He might’ve forgotten that this was just a business arrangement, but he’d remember soon enough, and I didn’t want the lines to blur. “Where are you going?”
He adjusted his sweater twice before answering. “I was just making my way home when I spotted you.”
“Were you able to uncover any more information at the station?”
“I wasn’t very helpful since my memories of the last few months are still pretty blank.” He ran a finger along his cuff. “I’m sure they’ll come back soon, but until then, I’d prefer to stick with you. You make me feel better.”
I let the silence settle between us, not quite sure what he wanted me to say. “Here.” I thrust the bag with the peppermint bites at him. “You can have these.”
His eyebrows lifted, and he didn’t reach for the bag right away. “You’re giving that to me?”
“Yes, I am.”
He accepted it carefully, then glanced inside. “I’m pleased you knew these were my favorites.”
“They are?”
“Yes, thank you for buying them for me.”
Dang it. How had I known that? Had William’s likes and dislikes been sinking into me without me even realizing it? I shook my head and started walking again.
He smiled and took a bite, falling into step beside me. He was smiling far too much. He seemed less like the Mr. Collins I’d made the deal with and more like a complete stranger—one who reminded me a bit too much of my terrible ex.
For a few minutes, we walked in blessed silence while he ate.
“Where are you headed?” he asked after he finished.
“To the Museum of Regrets.” I folded my arms in front of my chest.
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Ashford, the victim’s uncle, owns it, and he might know what she was doing at your house last night.”
William’s hand returned to his cuff. The familiar motion was reassuring, showing that not all of him had disappeared. “You mean our house.”
“Um, sure.”
“So you’re investigating for me?” He smiled. “You are quite brave.”
“I’m not brave. I just don’t like leaving things unsettled, and not knowing what happened last night is going to drive me nuts.”
“Still, I appreciate you trying to do something for me.” His fingers hovered for a moment as if drumming the air, then he tentatively brushed the back of my hand.
Nope. I wouldn’t let a few soft words and a wardrobe upgrade sway me. No butterflies. No romance. That was the deal we made, and I didn’t need him changing the rules on me now.
I pulled my hand away.
He blinked, a hint of confusion passing over his face before he nodded. He stopped outside Mansfield Book Haven. “Would you mind waiting a minute?”
“Okay, sure.”
He walked into the store, but was back barely a minute later, a book tucked under his arm.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
He cocked his head to the side. “It’s for the victim’s uncle. I’m not supposed to visit a grieving person without bringing a gift of some kind.”
“According to who?”
“The rules I created for myself when I became pastor,” he said. “I don’t always know how to help when people are grieving, but I find that if I can show my concern in a concrete way it expresses my feelings better than words usually do.”
That was surprisingly sweet.
He traced his cuff with his free hand, and my gaze caught on the black mark on his palm, which looked like some sort of sigil. “Did you figure out what that was?” I asked.
“Yeah, I guess it’s part of a protection spell.
” His half-smile dimmed, sadness glinting in his hazel eyes.
“That poor woman. I feel terrible for what happened to her last night. I’m not sure how I could have hurt her since protection spells don’t usually hurt people, but if I did, then I don’t know how I’ll be able to continue calling myself a pastor. ”
The necklace at my throat warmed again, conveying his worry in more than just words.
After the next turn, the museum loomed over us, snow gathering on its eaves, steep roof, and window ledges like icing on gingerbread.
Flickering candles floated behind a few panes, and ivy crept along the old stone walls, enchanted to twinkle with frosted red berries and glowing winter blossoms that bloomed only in winter.
A crooked iron gate held a wooden plaque with hand-lettered curving script: Museum of Regrets.
It opened with a melancholy moan. A small notice board stood guard by the front door with a paper tacked on that said, 12 Regrets of Christmas—coming soon.
“We need to find the owner,” I said as I pushed open the door and slipped inside.
The scent of pine resin, old books, and sugared plums hung in the air, blending with the faint chime of music boxes that played ghostly carols.
Floating lanterns cast soft halos over the velvet-lined displays along the walls.
“I’ll go this way”—I pointed to the hall with a broken mirror and a plaque underneath covered with text that read If only—“and you go that way.” I gestured to the farther path where the first regret was a clock whose second hand kept ticking onto the same moment.
“Splitting up increases risk and reduces efficiency. It makes more sense to stay together.” William took a step closer, and I backed up.
William was nothing like the man I’d married, and I wasn’t sure how smart it was to spend too much time with him. This new side of him was harder to ignore.
“I think it’s better if we separate. We’ll cover more ground that way.”
“We’re spending the first day of married life on a murder case.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “The least I can do is stay with you.”
I sighed and took off down the hall. “All right.” I’d just need to keep reminding myself that even if he’d changed his clothes, he was nothing like Hugh.
A lantern flared to life as we passed, the words, I regret her finding out the truth glowing on the plaque underneath.
Nearby, a star pulsed weakly, snuggled softly in its velvet display case, although its light barely flickered.
In the next display, a letter sat beneath a quill that scribbled, return to sender across the envelope in an endless loop.
“This museum is fascinating.” William paused to study the enchanted quill like it might reveal something. “I’d love to study how the magic works here.”
“Haven’t you ever gone on one of the tours?” I asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, the official story is that when Mr. Ashford’s grandfather and his wife were married, a powerful high-born fae cast a spell on the house that they would be able to live a life of no regrets.”
“Like a fairy godmother,” he murmured.