Page 32 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

“Merritt,” she murmured, ensuring no one was close enough to her to overhear. “Merritt, I’d like to talk to you. Let me know when you’ve returned. Please.”

She walked and waited. Didn’t expect an answer, and yet when none came, disappointment flooded her chest.

Sighing, she slipped the stone back into her bag. Turned at the next intersection. Could she find refuge at Whimbrel House while Merritt was away? Perhaps she could set up at Myra’s house and search for more clues, though she knew in her heart that was a lost cause. Besides, it might not reflect well on her, should anyone from LIKER find out.

Go home. Take a break.

Home.

Shecouldvisit family. Her sister wasn’t far, just over in Cambridge. Hulda didn’t like showing up without proper invitation, but Danielle never seemed to mind.

So for the second time in three weeks, Hulda departed for her sister’s.

This was it. This was where Merritt would turn to get to his parents’ house. There would be an old yellow barn at the end of the road, and Annie Bells would have her little shelf of tarts outside her door with a bucket to deposit coins if you wanted to have one. He wouldn’t get that far, though. His was the fourth house from the end of the lane. Hip-high fences made from twisted tree branches encircling it, and a plum tree stood in the front yard.

This was where Merritt would turn. And yet, he couldn’t move his feet. He couldn’t even stand in the intersection and glance down that way, because what if someone saw him? Recognized him? Said something to ...

He rubbed his eyes. The chill had seeped into his bones. His heart was beating too fast. His palms were sweaty, itchy. His clothes were too loose and too tight, and his stomach was inside out, and the trees weressshhhingin his head—

A hand clapped his shoulder, making him jump. Turning, he felt an uncoiling of relief when he saw Fletcher’s familiar face.

“How long have you been standing here?” his friend asked, soft and low.

Merritt paused. Checked his pocket watch. But he hadn’t checked it when he got here, so he still didn’t know. A while. The sun was setting. The sky was orange. He was cold.

Fletcher said, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No.” It was more a breath than an answer.

This was where Merritt would turn, to go home.

But he couldn’t.

Chapter 8

November 7, 1846, Cambridge, Massachusetts

Danielle was indeed surprised to see Hulda again, and so soon, as Hulda had stayed with her briefly just over two weeks prior, only to leave as abruptly as she had arrived. Normally, Hulda would be embarrassed by such inappropriate behavior, especially as a guest in another’s home, but when it came to family, propriety suspended itself, and any potential slights were usually forgiven by the following morning, if they had caused any offense in the first place.

Danielle had a small staff, thanks to her husband’s success as a lawyer, and her cook had prepared a most excellent dinner of quail and pudding. Not wanting to postpone the meal or put out the Tanner family with her problems, Hulda kept her concerns to herself and dined. Stuffed and tired from travel, she determined to wait until morning to burden her sister with her grievances, but Danielle was not known for patience, and thus her sister summoned her to the parlor the moment the children were put to bed.

The parlor was small yet quaint, well furnished and more intimate than cozy, lit with nearly two dozen candles for their sudden tête-à-tête. A marble-topped table sat in its center with two green-upholstered chairs with cabriole legs on either side of it, and two more on either side of the window, whose heavy maroon drapes were pulled aside to reveallace curtains underneath. The walls were papered with a clean design of tiny navy flowers in parallel rows, and the carpet gave the illusion of individual forest-green tiles. The fire in the small fireplace was lit and cracking, and when Hulda arrived, tea was set out on the table, Danielle stirring her cup with a small silver spoon.

Danielle did not care for tea, so Hulda knew immediately the setup was intended for her.

“I hope you’re ready to let out your secrets,” Danielle said as soon as Hulda sat down. She wore a dress with a pleated bodice and flower-shaped collar, possibly of her own design, that was such a vivid pink it seemed to clash with the room.

Hulda sighed, then stalled with one, two, then three sips of tea. “I suppose there’s no way around it.”

“None at all.” Danielle raised an expectant eyebrow.

Hulda stared at her cup. “In truth, I came here to do that very thing, though it seemed an easier exercise than I’m finding it.” She chewed on her lip. Glanced at the door, but it was secure, and Hulda did not think her nephews would dare sneak about. “That is, there’s a man—”

“Aman?” Danielle leaned forward with a grin. “You haven’t brought up amanin some time! Who is he?”

Hulda turned her cup on her saucer. “His name is Merritt Fernsby, and he’s an author who lives in the Narragansett Bay.”

Danielle sat up straighter. “Does this have anything to do with your very sudden departure two Sundays past?”

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