Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
After an embarrassing hour of driving around the small village, we finally find the cottage. But that doesn’t include the time we spent at the local grocers’ and the telegram office, calling the others about our strenuous predicament and where we are hiding for now.
The cottage is certainly barebones, with its inadequacies in modern plumbing and electricity, but it will suffice for what we need.
“Welcome home,” Henry jokes, placing our luggage in the middle of the room that acts as both the kitchen and living space. He sneezes as he wipes away the cobwebs that cling to the corners of the walls and the wooden beams along the ceiling.
My eyes scan around the small cottage, noting how much time and nature have claimed it. “It will take us a while to tidy up before this place is habitable.”
“At least we will be busy enough to be away from the public eye,” Henry says with his hands on his hips, ready to get to work. “Are you hungry? I can make us sandwiches for lunch before we get started.”
I nod. We will need plenty of energy to get this job done. “I’ll wash the bedding so it can dry while we still have plenty of daylight.”
We spend at least two hours going around the place, dusting surfaces, sweeping the sandy floors, and removing cobwebs from hidden crevices. Then, after taking some torn-up pieces of cloth from the cabinetry, we clean the floors, tables, and kitchen surfaces with water, soap, and lemon juice.
Thankfully, the cottage has its own well not too far away, but unfortunately for Henry, he makes several trips to procure clean water and empty out the dirtied bucket.
After adjusting to the physical demands and chores of living in such a cottage, it's slowly starting to feel like the sanctuary it is.
Henry plops onto the rickety, rocking chair in the corner of the living space after he made his tenth trip to the well.
Making my way to him from the bedroom, I smirk, finding him sitting with his eyes closed, rocking lightly.
His chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath.
Sweat has already formed on his button-down shirt.
Unaware of my presence, I creep closer to him and then throw a clean piece of cloth at his chest. “Oh, are we done?”
Henry peeks one eye open, and a warm smile slips onto his lips. “We can pretend it is.”
I arch an eyebrow. “I don’t think I can ignore the remaining stains on the walls, or the lingering smell of mold.”
“That’s why we opened the windows,” he counters.
Knowing we are nearly done, I extend a hand, still smirking. “Come on, Mr. Ashford. We spent fourteen hours on our hands and knees digging and sifting in the Grecian dirt. I’d think working through simple women’s housework would be elementary.”
Henry chuckles softly, then takes my hand, standing. “Touché, Miss Fairfax.”
With a sheer turn of luck on our side, our stay at Ogmore manages to extend from one day to five with no signs of being discovered.
We know it’s only a matter of time until they do.
If Dr. Richmond has successfully convinced my father to help him in his quest, the number of resources at their disposal is staggering.
It’s an amount two civilians cannot compete with, no matter if one wields god-like powers.
Despite all the precautions I put in place, such as using the crown to conceal our whereabouts from the townspeople, I feel it in my bones that our hideaway will be uncovered.
It’s only a matter of when.
We wake on the morning of our fifth day to another beautiful sunny sky in seaside Wales. The sun is shining bright against the cloudless sky, the wind blows softly, and the tides rise and fall calmly against the shore.
I’m sitting in the kitchen by the fireplace, flipping through the pages of my journal with delusional hope that any of our theories are true. A tingling sensation forms along the back of my head, my gaze fixating on my drawings of the artifacts and Eudemon’s chest.
My finger traces over the penciled sketches as intuition tells me the chest is more crucial to solving our problem than we realize—a key piece in breaking my connection, but also in destroying the artifacts' powers.
A sigh escapes me as I clutch my forehead, realizing that if my gut feeling is correct, then we must wait for Grandad to come back with the chest.
My heart leaps in my chest as the front door suddenly swings open, sending in a gush of crisp sea air. Henry strolls in carrying a large brown bag of provisions and three small envelopes in his hand, returning from what looks to be a successful visit to town.
I rush to him upon seeing the telegrams. Not even bothering to ask politely to hand them over, I grab them from his hand and start reading the first one. Dr. Alarie’s progress in Athens is hitting a wall, but he’s delighted to hear of Dr. Baccar’s progress.
Wait a minute…
Has Amina uncovered something in Constantinople?
I feel my pulse quickening as I throw Dr. Alarie’s telegram onto the table and frantically open the one from Amina.
Feeling like my eyes are deceiving me, I read the words several times, hoping what I’m seeing is correct.
I screech with joy as I glance at Henry, his cheeks still red from the wind, and hand the telegram over to him.
“She found it, Henry,” I say breathlessly, my eyes bulging in shock. “Dr. Baccar found an ancient text with insights about the Eudaemon artifacts.”
I watch as he reads the telegram.
“She’s already on her way to Ogmore with the scroll and informed Lord Claremont and Dr. Alarie to meet us here. The telegram came in yesterday, which means they will be here in a few days.” He looks at me with a wide grin on his face. “We’re finally going to get you free from them.”
And hopefully a way to destroy their powers as well. But that is a worry to nag on tomorrow. For today, this celebratory news will be the only thing to think about.
Before I register what I’m doing, my excitement takes hold of my body, and I wrap my arms around Henry’s neck in an embrace, squealing with glee by his ear. Thankfully, he is as jubilant as I am.
He wraps his arms around me, swaying me with elation as he cheers along with me. We remain like this for a few minutes, letting the feelings of relief and hope overtake us. Finally, we allow ourselves to believe this wasn’t a futile mission, and it’ll all be behind us very soon.
As the exhilaration wanes, I become aware of everything, particularly how close we are and how tightly I’m holding onto him.
My heart, betraying me, beats erratically in my chest at our closeness.
Ever since I understood my true feelings for him, it’s like my body has decided to betray me at every opportunity.
Every time he looks at me, I fear my cheeks will turn deep red, or my palms will drip in sweat from his touch.
My body reacts the way the girls from etiquette school did with the boys they were enamored with.
For me, this isn’t some foolish crush.
This is love.
A love that makes you feel, “I would do anything for this person.”
I see and understand Henry for who he is, flaws and all, and unconditionally love him. But the terrifying question of whether his feelings are mutual haunts my dreams every night, which at least helps to keep away the horrifying nightmares.
Slowly, I step away from him, anxious sweat creeping in as the embarrassment from my impropriety rises.
I sheepishly glance at him and see he feels as uncomfortable as I am from our intimate embrace.
My cheeks suddenly feel hot, knowing they are burning in a deep shade of red.
I know I must apologize for crossing the line.
“I’m—”
“We should celebrate,” Henry interjects cheerily, brushing aside the discomforting aftermath of our embrace.
I freeze as he walks over to the brown bag of provisions and takes out a bottle of red wine.
A mischievous smile slowly rises on his lips.
“I think it’s time we let ourselves enjoy Ogmore and take advantage of our proximity to the ocean.” He gestures to the door. “Come on. Let’s go for a stroll along the shore.”
For nearly two weeks, all we’ve done is run and hide away from those searching for the artifacts. For a while, I want to pretend that all my worries don’t exist, and my future is bright.
Deep down, I know we should remain inside the cottage and keep our outside presence minimal. But a bigger part of me wants to rebel and do what I please for once.
Eventually, I listen to my wayward mind and smirk. “There’s no need to convince me. I’m in.”
Grabbing a cardigan and a spare pillowcase, I bundle up and place the artifacts inside the sack. Despite our moment of slight recklessness, I still want to be responsible by having the artifacts on hand. Leaving them in the cottage would be extremely foolish on our part.
Henry, waiting for me by the open front door, doesn’t look surprised that I’m bringing a sweater and the artifacts in hand. He closes—and locks—the door behind me, and we head toward the shore.
The warm sun hits my face as the seagulls soar above, and the smell of the sea stings the inside of my nose. We trudge through a path in the high grass that leads to the open pebbly shore. The beach is tiny, spanning only a hundred feet long, and nestles between high, white stone cliffs.
It reminds me of the cliffs in Scotland, but thankfully, these are not as steep. The only known path to this beach is the trail to the cottage, which secludes this area for us. The chances of someone finding us would be slim, given that no one in town is aware of the cottage’s existence.
We take our shoes off as we walk through the wet, hardened beach floor, wanting to feel the tiny rocks of cold sand in between our toes.
Henry and I pass the bottle of wine as we walk along the shore, each taking long gulps.
My ankles are submerged by the freezing waves of the Bristol Channel, soaking an inch or two of the hems of my trousers, but I don’t mind it.