Page 75 of Bane Bloom

“Yes,” I agreed. “It frightened me the first time. But now I’m thinking perhaps the plants in this glasshouse produce their own small enchantments, not unlike the Elfbloom with its changing shape.”

His brows lifted. “And that doesn’t frighten you?”

I gave a slow shrug. “I guess not as much as the thought of losing myself to an affliction of the mind.” I looked at the cluster of Brugmansia flowers, jostling like silent wind chimes in the barest of breezes. “Maybe this will be difficult for you to understand, but I’m grateful for what I’ve experienced here. Even before I left London, my botanical illustrations contained fairies. But I can see now that they were missing something. Small insect-winged creatures with sweet faces. Seeing the real thing . . . it has changed everything.”

I glanced at him, surprised to find his expression one of gentle curiosity. My mind returned to the things he’d said about me being stuck, more child than woman in some ways. My time here was causing a shift. Toward something less safe, perhaps, but also far more interesting.

I smiled and said, “I’ve had the idea to make a series of books of them.”

“You should,” he said softly. But his expression shifted to a familiar one. Thomas the Guarded. “When you go back to London,” he appended. “You’re very good, Catherine. Maybe you can make your own way, without the apothecaries.”

While this friendly advice ran along the lines of my own recent thoughts on the matter, it felt rather like a door slamming shut—with my heart caught in it.

Neighborly

Upstairs, I washed my face, put on my dress, and stood in front of the glass to brush and pin up my hair, replacing the flower crown when I finished. I wrapped Prudence’s shawl loosely around my bare neck and shoulders. It was the most color I’d worn in more than two decades. I had to admit the effect was pretty, and flattering.

As I went down to meet Thomas, I tried to let go of my hurt over him mentioning my return to London. There was no reason for him to assume or suggest I’d do otherwise—whatever fanciful ideas might have occurred to his mother and me since my arrival.

We didn’t speak much at first, which left me nothing to do but watch the scenery. When we reached the bluebell glade, I glimpsed a blue shadow gliding behind a clump of saplings, or at least thought I did, and scooted minutely closer to Thomas.

“I’ll not let her harm you, lass,” he said.

Heart giving a labored thump, I replied, “You saw her, too.”

His gaze cut toward the birchwood. “Aye.”

“Do you think she wants to? Harm me, I mean.”

“I’ll not discount it.” Then his eyes fixed on me. “Remember what I told you about fairy mischief this time of year. Don’t leave the village tonight. Don’t even leave the inn. Not until Mr. Foss takes you home. Then go straight into the house, where my wards will give you some protection. It’s not just Nyv. Mr. Carroll may be restless tonight, too.”

“Goodness, Thomas,” I said, weak laughter in my voice, “you’re frightening me.”

His gaze shifted forward again. “I mean to.”

Studying his profile, I asked, “When must you leave?”

He clucked to Daisy, though her pace had remained steady. “Before sunset.”

With no real hope that he’d answer, I asked, “Why?”

“I have something I must do.”

“Is it the same something as the night of the full moon?” We’d never spoken again of his disappearance that night. I was watching him closely and saw him flinch.

“Aye.”

I spent the remainder of the drive trying to imagine what secret Thomas was still hiding. But short of following him, I had no real hope of discovering it.

Though sunset was several hours off, the day was gloomy, the candlelight in the windows of the inn inviting. I could see people moving about inside, and an old man and woman stood outside next to the door, holding long-stemmed pipes and blowing smoke.

On a flat section of ground near the stream, tree branches, broken-up crates, and wood in other forms had been piled for a bonfire.

Thomas pulled up to a water trough, stepped down from the cart, and went to settle Daisy, stroking her neck and loosely tying her up. I climbed down and went around to him.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

He frowned. “Should I be?”