Page 10 of Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse
“I wouldn’t like your chances against my aunt,” Gryff laughed. “She’s one for the old ways, as are many people on this swath of the coast. In any case, I will be looking for a quarry manager, if you know of someone you’d like to recommend?” Gryffasked.
“Not my line, I’m afraid, but I wish you luck.” Hunt offeredhishand.
Gryff shook it and took possession of his papers. “I’ve seen the number of guests you have on hand,” he said to Drake. “I’d just as soon avoid the delay of social introductions. If you don’t mind, I’ll go out at the back and exit out the terracedoors.”
“Are you sure?” Drake asked. “There are some lovelyladies—”
“I’m sure.” Gryff clapped the steward on the back. “But I appreciate yourinterest.”
“Well then, have a drink with the pair of us before youstartback.”
Gryff tried to demure, but Drake insisted, and in the end he had to admit that the earl kept a fine brandy. He would make his escape in a moment. He’d been through the house with his father and the old earl a number of times. He knew how to slink out withoutbeingseen.
“Here’s to family traditions.” Hunt raised hisglass.
“And lovely ladies,” Drakeadded.
Gryff laughed anddrank.
* * *
She’d tried.Truly, she had. She’d tried to heed young Paul—taking advice from a spirit!—and be open and accepting to . . . whatever this thing was that was happeningtoher.
She’d worried at breakfast when her father assured her that he was adjusting well to the burden of his new duties, even though he’d conjured an image of himself swimming against a raging rivercurrent.
“At least you are holding steady,” she’d ventured. “I’m sure you’ll be makingheadwaysoon.”
He’d brightened. “Yes. Thank you,Tamsyn.”
He’d gone off with a smile, so she’d ventured to hope that Paul had been right and all wouldbewell.
She’d flinched a little when first the butler and later a footman spoke to her, pleasantly enough, but projecting images of the things they’d rather be doing—fishing and frolicking in the servant’s hall,respectively.
And she smiled now, meeting Lord Ashbrooke before dinner in her mother’s newly appropriated parlor. He said everything pleasing, and paid her sisters some very pretty compliments, but clearly his mind was only on Lady Claire Deering. The girl was here attending the reading of the will with her father, but it looked like, if Lord Ashbrooke had his way, she’d also soon be thoroughly kissed in thegarden.
The crowd in the room grew, and Tamsyn started to be a little overwhelmed with the discord between what was being said and what was being shown to her. She retreated to the back of the room, turned her back on the guests and concentrated on the artwork on thewalls.
Not such a hardship, as it were, for there were some beautiful pieces, in different mediums. Some looked incredibly old and she suspected were valuableindeed.
“Morris?” She beckoned the butler as he finished speaking into her mother’s ear. “Will you tell me aboutthese?”
“Ah, yes.” The butler approached and puffed up, clearly proud. “The previous earl’s father was a collector of art—and he especially loved art that featured the local area. This is a collection of some of hisfavoritework.”
“This looks quite ancient.” Tamsyn gestured toward a carved ivorypiece.
“It is reputed to be from the time of the Domesday Book, my lady. Ancient and veryrare,too.”
“What is the subject?” It was a stylized relief, curved and weathered. It appeared to represent a priest, presenting a token to ayoungboy.
“It is a depiction of a local legend, LadyTamsyn.”
No stray images had formed over Morris’s head while he spoke, so she ventured to ask, “Will you tell meofit?”
“I may not be as familiar with the tale as others, but I understand it concerns a child named Grindan. He was a miner boy who was thought lost in a collapse. But for three days birds gathered at the mouth of the mine, birds of every sort, just hovering and waiting and making a racket and refusing to leave. Someone took it as a sign that the boy might yet be alive and a party was sent down to search for him—and he was found. The local priest said it was God’s work and presented him with a brooch, as isshownhere.”
The brooch was gorgeously rendered in the carving, a round piece, intricate with Celtic designs and with a raised hawk’s head in themiddle.
“Is it known what happened totheboy?”
