Page 16 of The Dreaming Beauty
“It seems you want me to keep a great deal of secrets, Miss White.”
Their eyes met, the blue of her muslin dress making her eyes darker. “Yes, it does seem that way.”
When they reached the cottage door, Tansy let them inside. He followed her past a row of hooks on the wall, half-filled with cloaks and aprons. He added his hat to a free hook, and she added her apron. A few steps later to the left was a comfortable but small sitting room. There was a sofa and exactly one chair by the empty fire. It was a warm day, but he hoped the family had wood chopped and ready for the night as the temperatures dropped. He had yet to discover how many servants they had. He hoped they employed at least a few. The cottage was too large for the women to tend to themselves.
“Please take a seat, and I will see if my aunt has some tea ready.” Tansy promptly left him alone.
Marcus went to the chair by the fire and was nearly seated when Mrs. Palmer stormed into the room, carrying a garden rake, set low like a spear, her eyes as wild as her wiry black hair.
He leaped from his seat and jumped behind it, ready to use it as a shield. Luckily for him, Mrs. Palmer lowered the rake.
“Oh, it’s you. I heard a man’s voice and thought—” She broke off suddenly, her discomfort mirroring his own. “You don’t need to tell the others about this. I was just being careful, what with our man of work in town.”
Marcus slipped around the chair and sank back into it, his heart still racing. “I won’t breathe a word.” How was he agreeing to keep yet another secret? Surely the women were skittish after all the rumors about this place, but how could he do anything else?
“You’re a true gentleman, Mr. Taylor. And those are rare these days.” Mrs. Palmer gave him an appreciative smile and turned, nearly colliding with Mrs. Wood, Tansy just on her heels.
Mrs. Wood glanced to the rake, her eyes wide and round like the tea saucers in her hands. “Iris! Why is there a rake inside the cottage?”
Mrs. Palmer scrunched her face and raised a sheepish arm. “I brought it in to show Mr. Taylor.”
“What in heaven’s name?” Mrs. Wood handed the tea set to Tansy, then took the rake from Iris’s hands. “Mr. Taylor has no need to see our rake.”
“Actually”—Marcus lifted his hand—“I am of an opinion that it’s a very good rake.”
The aunts stared at him, as did Tansy, with wide eyes and open mouths.
“There,” Mrs. Palmer said, her mouth finally flapping shut. “Mr. Taylor appreciates my rake.”
Mrs. Wood pressed the rake back into Mrs. Palmer’s hand. “I think he’s finished admiring it now, so please see that it is returned out of doors and stays there.”
Mrs. Palmer nodded and hurried from the room, stopping at the corner long enough to wink at him.
He squirmed in his seat. It was time to change the subject. “Miss Tansy, I trust you are in better health?”
“You already discussed my health, and I am still much improved.” She poured him some tea. “Sugar or milk?”
Right. He was an idiot. “Neither, thank you.”
She handed him his cup and saucer, which he accepted, and poured a cup for her aunt and herself. While Marcus waited for them to situate themselves on the sofa, he glanced about the room. His eyes darted up the mantel, stopping on a stunning likeness of Rose Cottage. The colors were bright and attractive, reminding him of the vitality he had always imagined the cottage to have.
Pulling his gaze away, he shifted his attention to Tansy. “I’ve prepared a few questions, but if any of them make you at all uncomfortable, you are not obligated to answer.”
Mrs. Wood patted Tansy’s clasped hands before turning to him. “I must admit I am surprised a steward would also be a professor.”
Mr. Taylor nodded. “I have stepped away from my time at Oxford to complete some research. My position as a steward allows for a more flexible schedule.”
“I see. Will Tansy be used in some sort of experiment?” Mrs. Wood frowned. “I will not condone anything of that sort.”
“Not at all. It’s more a curiosity of mine. I like to study unusual things and try to make sense of them.”
Mrs. Wood gave a slow nod. “That is a relief, although a mite strange, I daresay. But, by all means, go ahead.”
With a relatively safe topic and his objective known, there was no reason to craftily wheedle or coax information today. A straightforward approach seemed the best route. Marcus pulled out a pencil and a small book from inside his jacket, flipping the book open to the next blank page. “Miss White, how often do you sleepwalk?”
“I couldn’t say.” Tansy appealed to her aunt for help. “I am asleep, so it is impossible for me to answer.”
The question seemed to distress her, and Marcus had hardly begun. “Do you ever wake up anxious or exhausted from a dream you’ve had?”
