Chapter 10
I stood outside, watching the Bennets’ home until night fell. And then, for once, probably because I was awaiting Darcy’s information and couldn’t move forward, my compulsion allowed me to go to my place and rest.
The next day, I stepped out of my townhome into the freezing air.
Another blanket of snow had fallen, bathing the world in a fresh, untouched layer of white.
After brushing off my Jeep, I got in, putting my key into the ignition.
It didn’t start. I frowned and tried again, but it didn’t even sputter.
In a way, I was relieved. I wasn’t eager for what I needed to do next but also couldn’t put it off any longer.
At least for the moment, my broken Jeep took my mind off things.
I went outside and raised the hood, peering down at all the parts of a vehicle that I was unfamiliar with. I did simple tasks, such as checking the fluids, but everything looked good.
The door to Mr. Rothschild’s home creaked open, and he stepped out fully bundled, walking right up to me. “Step aside, son, let me take a look."
He crowded into the space in front of the Jeep, and I edged back. “Do you know much about vehicles?”
“I should say so. Worked throughout college and a little after as a mechanic for a big car company. That is until I became too invested in a secret mechanic fight club.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “A… fight club? For mechanics?”
Mr. Rothschild pulled a flashlight out and leaned over the vehicle, even though it was daytime and the sun shone overhead. “Well, it started as a joke, you see. But then I almost lost a pinky in a wrench duel and realized it was time for a career change.”
If anyone else had told me that story, I might have laughed it off as something made up, but coming from Mr. Rothschild, that sounded about right.
“Where’s your little wife been?” he asked. “Thought I’d see her more often around here.”
“She’s been spending some time with her family,” I hedged, hoping not to get into it.
“Thought she’d want to spend more time with you, being newlyweds and all. When I first got married many years ago, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.” He glanced up and wriggled his thick grey eyebrows at me.
I rubbed my neck, unsure how to respond or how to picture a young and married Mr. Rothschild. “Oh, um, that’s good.”
“Hmm, seems like this is going to take some time. Let me get my tools. Oh, and here.” He tossed me the keys to his car. “Heaven knows I don’t need you standing here distracting me from work. Go get done whatever you were planning to do.”
I smiled. As quirky as my neighbor was, I wouldn’t want him any other way. “Thanks, Mr. Rothschild.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he headed off to retrieve his tools. “I enjoy being handy once in a while.”
I drove perhaps more slowly than necessary to the Bennets’ home in Mr. Rothschild’s 1992 dark-blue station wagon with the wood paneling on the side. The interior smelled of peppermint and a hint of cinnamon chewing gum.
Things would most likely go better if I knocked on their living space door around back and went in the proper way instead of bursting through Cupid’s Confections. I also wanted to avoid making a scene.
Kitty answered the door. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
“Hi, Kitty, I’m here to see Lydia. Is she around?” I inquired.
“Come in.” She stepped aside, and I entered the Bennets’ home.
“Where is everyone?”
“Mom and Mary are at church, and Jane and Lizzy are running the shop.”
The Bennets had added extra hours lately to their shop. I realized now it was an attempt to bring in more money due to trying to make ends meet.
“And Lydia?” I asked.
“She’s in the kitchen,” Kitty motioned toward the door on the far side of the room. “She’s stress baking.”
“Does she do that often?”
Kitty moved her head from side to side. “Only when someone she cares about has gotten to her.” She gave me a meaningful but not very welcoming glance.
My stomach twisted at her words. “I see.”
She opened the door and peered inside. Then she turned to face me. “The only way to speak with her is to go in and see what happens.”
I swallowed. Face my fate. That was what it felt like. As if I were facing my judge and executioner all at once.
I managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Kitty.”
I remained outside for a few more seconds, working up the courage to go in. Finally, I forced my shoulders to relax and pushed my way through the door.
Lydia was in the middle of the kitchen, hair up in a messy bun and flour covering her from head to toe.
Her movements were quick and jerky. She held a mixing bowl in her arms as she gazed too long at a recipe that—it was clear from the many bundt cakes sitting on the counters—she’d done over and over.
I took a step forward. “Lydia.”
She glanced up at me, something close to dread flickering in her gaze, but then turned away and shook her head. “I have to finish this order of bundt cakes for Ms. Bates. She kept talking about how she wanted to send one to Jane Fairfax.”
I looked at the stack of bundt cakes on the counter. “How big is the order?”
“She wants five, but those don’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because I put salt in for sugar and sugar in for salt. So now I have to start over.” She wiped flour-covered hands on her flour-covered apron.
I stepped up to the counter. “Mind if I help?”
“I don’t know. I can’t afford any more mess-ups.”
Did she think I was included in her mess-ups? Probably. Carefully, I eased the bowl from her grasp and moved next to her and began whisking the ingredients. “I’m a skilled baker. I did win the Annual Autumn Bake-Off, remember?”
“That’s right, you did. I’d forgotten.” She watched as I grabbed a second bowl and put in the softened butter and sugar, then grabbed the beater sitting out on the counter and mixed it on low.
“How did you get so good at this?” she asked when I set the beater aside after getting it the proper texture.
We were alone. I couldn’t hear or smell anyone else nearby, so I chose to be open with her. She deserved that much, and more. “Those of my kind meet together weekly and bake human food. As a way of ensuring we fit in and all that.”
“The Midnight Kitchen Society?” she said, as if it was just dawning on her.
“That’s us.”
She reached toward the battered bundt cake. “Here, I need to—”
“How about you get your guitar and play while I finish up here? I got this.” I winked. Hopefully playing would distract her from her stress. Music always did that for me. “Of course, if you’d rather stand here and supervise, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Okay, yeah. I’ll go grab my guitar.” She disappeared from the room. While she was gone, I finished mixing in the rest of the ingredients and poured the mixture into the bundt pan. A few minutes later she returned with the guitar in her hands, the apron removed and most of the flour washed away.
She climbed up onto the counter and picked her way through her warm-up chords.
“What song were we working on?” I asked.
The fact that we hadn’t jumped directly to the inevitable seemed to calm her. “Midnight Kisses and Wool Mittens.”
“That’s right.” A cute, simple tune since Lydia had just started playing.
She played the melody. The tune twisted my heart. A part of me wished we could return to those days when I was nothing but a flirt and Lydia was that girl—someone to have fun with but not get serious about. Now things were far too serious.
The song ended. “I know why you’re here, Wickham.”
I slid the bundt cake into the oven and shut it, turning to face her. “Do you?”
“Yes, and I’ve been thinking.” She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “I think we’d be great together, but if you don’t want to be married, then I’ll agree to the annulment if you let me help find the killer.”
I gave her a bit of an exasperated glance. “Why are you so adamant about this?”
“Because I care about you. I’m worried about you. Annulment or no annulment, that isn’t going to change.”
The pain in my chest twisted harder. This woman was going to make it very hard to follow through.
After losing Georgiana and Darcy, basically my closest friends and family, things had felt quite lonely.
I had the band and that helped, but it wasn’t the same.
Lydia felt like family. She felt like home.
“I’ll share what I’ve discovered,” I said, “and if you can come up with a way to assist that is safe, then yes, your assistance is welcome. But afterward, we go straight to the courthouse and get an annulment.”
“Deal.”
Lydia set the guitar aside and leapt off of the counter. She walked over to where I was working and planted her elbows in the flour and gazed at me with eager eyes. “Okay, tell me everything.”
A small smile curled my lips at her determination. I told her about the trip to my sire and my visit to the kitchen group, and my last step of going to my old girlfriend. Last, I mentioned her suggestion that the culprit may not even be a vampire.
“If you aren’t sure what species the killer is, I might be able to help there.” She grinned excitedly. “I know of a spell that can reveal the species of someone if you’ve had recent interaction with them.”
“And if I haven’t?”
She shrugged. “Then it won’t work.” She straightened. “Come with me.”
I hesitated. “But the bundt cake?”
Lydia opened the kitchen door and stuck her head into the sitting room. “Kiiitty!” she shouted. “Can you come finish the bundt cakes for Ms. Bates’s order?”
Kitty’s voice came through into the kitchen. “Can I wear the charcoal sweater on my date with Riley tonight?”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “If you promise to do your hair stylishly and not put on that silly headband you always wear.”
“Sure.”
Lydia glanced back and motioned to me. “Come down to the basement and we’ll start brewing.”