Page 82 of Tears of Ink

I round on her and glare although it rolls off her like water off a well-oiled duck. “Not helping.”

“Well.” The wicked witch makes eye contact with me, her demeanour almost open. Clearly, I am no longer the worst thing under the roof at Bowsley. “This is ridiculous. I mean are we even safe in our beds?”

Lewis looks like he’s about to lob the teapot.

I walk towards Jennifer and Connie, who are both cowering and commenting from the safety of the other end of the ridiculously long dining room table. “Can you guys just try not to make a fuss?” I ask.

“Not make a fuss.” Jennifer fans herself. It’s probably the most ruffled I’ve seen her. Her normally serene face is showing cracks and lines I didn’t know existed. “That child is using the foulest language in my dining room.”

“Really, you’ve never heard foul language in the dining room before?”

I step closer ushering the women towards me. “Listen, Elijah wanted you to help this boy. It’s important to him, and he’s doing a good thing here.”

“Working for free?” Connie snaps.

For a moment I stare at her aghast. “You know what happened to Lewis’ mother? You know why he is so angry?”

Jennifer manages to look contrite. “Elijah really cares for this family?”

“Yes, because he’s a good man, and he wants to help people. Especially those who haven’t had the opportunity to be brought up somewhere like this.” I wave a hand at the expanse of excessive splendour which is the dining room alone.

“Can you calm him down? I really can’t have him shouting like that.”

“Who is going to hear? It’s just us here.”

“That’s not the point.”

Knowing I won’t win, I back away a little. “Do you want to see what we did yesterday? It’s going to look amazing.”

She dismisses me with a hand, her eyes still trained on Lewis. “Of course. I shall come along after Viviane and the Colonel have left after cribbage.”

I do believe I have just stepped back at least a hundred years in time. I shake my head, repressing the giggle bubbling up my throat, and turn for Lewis. “Shall we go and find a bacon sandwich?”

He looks like he wants to say no. He looks like he wants to fire every expletive under the sun towards me in an arsenal of hatred, but his stomach gurgles loudly and I grin. “Your stomach speaks for itself. Come on, let’s get out of here.” With a turn of my head, I motion to Tabitha. “Would you like a bacon sandwich, too?”

“I—I,” she stutters.

“That’s a yes. Come on, let’s go.”

I’m at the door when I hear Connie’s icy tone. “Tabitha, stay where you are. You will not get involved with this tiresome fuss making.”

My hand is on the door frame, but I turn to watch Tabitha. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and her body poised like she’s about to push her chair back. With Connie’s words her body sags and she slumps in her seat. My gaze flicks to Jennifer, but her eyes are dropped to the floor.

Instantly, I can see who runs this house, and it isn’t the baroness. I give Tabitha a small wave and point at the hallway for Lewis.

This house is unlike any place I’ve ever experienced, and this family is beyond fucked-up—and that’s coming from me, the woman with the most unconventional upbringing in existence. Lewis and I head for the kitchen, him silent, me thinking about Elijah—the man with the big heart and the prison of a family and home.

I want to set him free, but I don’t know how.

The kitchen is warm, cosy, and happy. Now I know why Elijah chose to drink in here alone. It’s an island of normality in a mansion of weirdness. Elaine the cook insists on cooking the bacon, even though I beg her to let me cook. So I set Lewis to buttering the bread which he is doing with so much gusto and pent-up anger, it’s slowly turning to small balls of dough and there might not be any left to put the bacon on.

I’m making tea and coffee for everyone. “You can come back here any time,” Elaine tells me as I hand her a mug of sweet tea. A proper mug mind you, not one of those poncy cup and saucer things they have going on in the dining room.

“I’m sure other people make you tea.” I smile and look around the kitchen. It’s just Elaine and Jennings here. There are cleaners and estate staff who come in as workers, but it’s only the two of them who live and breathe Bowsley Hall.

“Elijah does when he’s here.” Her gaze goes a little misty and she sighs.

“Elijah makes tea?” I try to imagine him bringing me a mug of tea while wearing one of his cut-to-perfection suits, but my mind can only paint me a picture of him standing in a suit handing over a cup of tea, next to a bed which I’m naked on… I’m losing the plot.