Chapter 11
“Something,” Temperance said, from the doorway of the sitting room, “is wrong with Soot.”
Albina looked up from her book.
“Wrong how?”
“She’s been behaving strangely all morning and keeps disappearing.
” Temperance looked ahead with focused attention, “She was in the kitchen at breakfast, which is normal. Then she was in the upstairs hallway, which is normal. But then she simply vanished. I’ve checked every room on this floor and I can’t find her. Have you seen her?”
“Not since this morning.” Albina turned a page. “Have you checked the garden?”
“It’s raining.”
“She has gone out in worse.”
“She dislikes getting her feet wet.” Temperance leaned against the doorframe. “She’s somewhere in the house, I can just feel it.”
Albina looked at her over the top of her book. “Have you checked Harper’s office?”
Temperance paused. “He’s in his office.”
“Yes.”
“She wouldn’t….”
Albina raised her eyebrows and returned to her book.
Temperance stood in the doorway for another moment. Then she turned and went down the hallway.
The office was at the end of the east wing, which was, Temperance had learned, where Harper preferred to be when he was working. She had been in it twice, both times at his request, and both times had noted that it was extremely tidy.
She could hear, from halfway down the hallway, that he might be working or busy. But she knocked anyway.
“Come in.”
The first thing she saw was the paperwork, but that was not what made her jaw drop.
Soot was in his lap.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, feeling relieved and surprised at the same time. “There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Miss Hosmer,” Harper replied, looking as though he had been caught doing something he would rather not be seen doing. “Is there something you needed?” he said.
Temperance leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “I was looking for the cat,” she said.
“Yes, the cat. Well, she came in on her own,” Harper said, and then looked down at his lap. “She is very persistent.”
“She is,” Temperance agreed. “She chose you. That is actually quite something, she is not usually much friendly to new people.”
“You may take her,” Harper said. “It’s not as though I chose her.”
It was almost amusing how much he wanted to deny it. As if it was a terrible thing that a small animal chose to sit next to you.
“She doesn’t look like she wants to go.”
“I don’t care what she….” He stopped, and composed himself. “Miss Hosmer, was there something you needed, or did you come specifically to observe me?”
“I had a question, actually,” she said, “It is a slightly, well… it is an odd question.”
He looked at her without blinking.
“Ask it.”
“Has anything unusual happened to you today?”
Harper looked at her for a long moment. “Unusual?” he said.
“Strange, out of the ordinary.”
“Other than the cat?”
“Other than the cat, yes.”
He studied her with attention for a moment. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just, I was curious. Whether anything…” She glanced around the room. “This is going to sound very odd.”
“It already sounds very odd, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Yes. Well.” She straightened slightly. “I was wondering whether you had perhaps noticed anything, oh I don’t know, unusual about the house. Recently or in general.”
“You’re being rather strange,” he shot her a look. “Have you had a good night of sleep?”
“I’ve slept very well,” she said, offended slightly. “I’m just saying that I have been noticing strange things around the house.”
There was a brief pause, and then something seemed to click for Harper. An amused expression formed on his features.
“Are you asking me if the house is haunted, Miss Hosmer?”
“I’m not….not specifically….”
“Because if you are asking me if the house is haunted,” he said, calmly, “I would like you to know that I have reviewed the structural reports, the maintenance records, and the estate accounts going back fourteen years, and at no point has haunting been listed as a line item.”
“That is not the point,” She replied, “I was not asking about haunting specifically.”
“Then what were you asking about?”
He looked back at her, expectantly. Their gaze met for a brief moment, and she had to look away. Once again, it made her feel things that she had no business feeling and it was a disarming act.
“Nothing,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “It doesn’t matter. I was just, never mind.”
“You came to interrupt me in the middle of reviewing the quarterly accounts, and asked me if anything unusual had happened to me, and now you are telling me it doesn’t matter? I don’t think that’s the best use of my time, and you should at least make yourself clear.”
“It was a passing thought.”
Harper looked at her for a moment in the way he had when he was deciding whether to pursue something or let it go, and she could see the calculation happening behind his eyes.
He stood up, and gathered the cat against his chest as he rose, one hand supporting her. Then, he crossed from behind the desk toward the window.
“The east drainage,” he said. “The groundskeeper tells me the work will be done by Friday. I want to make sure the dogs are kept from that section of the garden until the ground settles.”
“I’ll tell them,” she said.
“Tell them specifically,” he said. “Your dog Biscuit in particular has a habit of going wherever he pleases regardless of whether or not he should be there.”
“Biscuit is a free spirit,” she said. “I try not to control him. It’s a useful thing to do, and I suggest you try it as well.”
He ignored her comment and carried on, “Biscuit is a hazard.”
“In your opinion only,” she laughed. “And you should know by now, that as far as I am concerned, your opinion is not fact.”
She paused, and saw that he was still holding Soot. The cat had settled against his chest with her chin on his shoulder and her eyes fully closed, the picture of contentment. Harper was looking out the window still.
Temperance watched this for a moment, and it filled her chest with an odd sense of peace.
Almost as though two contrasting worlds had collided, but somehow had also fit together well.
“You’re petting her again,” she said. “I am beginning to suspect that you might like that.”
Harper looked at her. She looked back at him, and she was doing her absolute best to keep her expression neutral, but she was aware that it was not entirely succeeding. From the look on his face, he was aware of the same thing.
“The animals,” he said, clearing his throat and retracting his hand, “are supposed to be in the stables. I made that rule for specific and practical reasons.”
“Was it really quite practical if you find yourself drawn to Soot like this?” Temperance questioned, lightly. “I know you are a man of logic, and evidence. And so far, I think that evidence points us to the fact that perhaps the rule about the stables might be up for consideration.”
Harper said nothing.
“You contradict yourself, do you see?” she said calmly, “You make rules about the animals and then you hold the cat. You are not what you think you are.”
“Enlighten me, please,” he said sarcastically, “What do you think I am?”
“I think you are a man who has very clear ideas about how things should be done,” she said, “and very genuine feelings about how you actually want them to be. And I think those two things are not always the same. And I think that is….”
“What?” he said, and his voice had changed too, slightly. The sarcasm seemed to have drained out of it.
“I think it is more interesting than the rules,” she said.
The room was very quiet.
Harper was looking at her now without the usual controlled distance but there was a strange sort of intensity in his gaze.
As though he had a great Big question, and he was trying to find the answer to it.
She was close to the desk. She had moved slightly without meaning to and suddenly, the distance between them was less than it had been when she came in.
His eyes were very dark blue.
Like the ocean, or something profound.
Huh.
She had known this, of course. It was hard not to notice them, but now she could see them up close. It made her stomach flutter slightly, and she had to tear her gaze away.
“Keep the cat,” Harper said, abruptly.
She blinked, taken off guard. “What?”
Somehow, she had forgotten all about Soot.
“Keep her in the house.” He looked down at the cat, “She sufficiently well-behaved to my liking, so I will allow it.”
“But you told me that is not up for negotiation.”
“I am revising the position.”
“You are… my word, Harper Crauford is revising a position,” Temperance perked up immediately. “My word. Does that mean that you are more logical than I expected you to be, or perhaps, you have a heart underneath all of it?”
“I would urge you not to get used to it,” he brushed her off.
“But now that you have made me an allowance,” she grinned, “it is sort of difficult not to get used to it.”
She got some satisfaction watching his eyes widen, but then she laughed loudly.
It came out before she could do anything about it and she saw something move in his face when he heard it. It was there and gone before she could identify it but that made the room feel, for a moment, very small and very warm.
“Thank you,” she said, when she had recovered herself. “The dogs will be very pleased.”
“The dogs,” he said, “are incapable of gratitude and you know it.”
His eyes moved over her face for a moment in the way they did when he was looking at her and had not yet decided whether he was going to say what he was thinking.
“Take the cat,” he said.
“She doesn’t want to go. I believe she genuinely might like you.”
“Miss Hosmer,” Harper warned, at the edge of his patience.
“She genuinely doesn’t,” Temperance continued. “Look at her.”
He looked at Soot, who was now apparently asleep. “I don’t want to argue about this.”
Temperance took Soot from his arms. Their hands were briefly very close in the exchange, and brushed against each other for the briefest moment.
It caused her heartbeat to race.
“She’s annoyed,” Temperance said, covering up her reaction, “And surely, she has strong feelings about where she wants to be. You know, cats can be very particular about this sort of thing.”
“So do I,” he said, turning back to his desk swiftly. “The accounts, I need to finish the quarterly review.”
“Of course,” she said.
She turned toward the door. She had her hand on the frame when he said, without looking up from the papers he had already opened,
“Miss Hosmer.”
She turned.
“The question,” he said. “About unusual occurrences. Were you going to ask me something specific?”
She looked at him for a moment. His attention was on the papers, or appeared to be. As there was a quality of stillness about him that suggested he was listening considerably more carefully than the posture implied.
“It was nothing,” she said.
He looked up then and the dark blue eyes met hers across the room.
“All right,” he said, and looked back at his papers.
She closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment with Soot in her arms.
She was someone who had survived twenty-two years of difficult circumstances and was not going to be undone by a pair of dark blue eyes.