“I didn’t imagine that you did.” She left the door propped open and crossed to take the book. “I noticed that you carry your own small journal. I saw you writing in it several times today.”
“Oh, yes. Every once in a while, I hear of a ritual I am interested in. If I cannot explore it right away, I make a note of it, in case I find myself back in the area.”
“A ritual?” Her face cleared. “Oh, yes. Traditions. Like the one we spoke of once, the tossing of the bread and cheese at the church in St. Briavel.”
He nodded. “Yes. I made a note of that one, although I haven’t had the chance to go and investigate, yet. Such things are more common than you think—and often strange and almost always interesting. For example—there’s a little village right here in Gloucestershire, where they have a ceremonial cheese rolling every Whit Monday. They haul a large, round cheese to the top of a steep hill, roll it down and chase after it. They’ve been doing it for countless years.”
“Why?”
“There are differing explanations. Some say it is an old requirement for maintaining grazing rights on the village common.”
“Who would require such a thing?”
“Exactly. Other theories involve ancient, pagan fertility rites. Either way, it’s become part of the common experience for the locals. A way for them to celebrate and express their sense of community.”
“You are right. It is interesting. Thank you for indulging my curiosity.” With a nod of thanks, she turned away.
“Wait.”
She paused but didn’t turn back.
“I owe you an apology.”
That brought her around, with a look of surprise on her face.
“You were right. I was not thinking like a scientist earlier, or like any man of reason. I’m not sure why I felt such a visceral rejection of your inclusion of Lady Tresham as a suspect.” He shrugged. “Something inside of me just does not wish to think so badly of the lady—or of any lady, I suppose.”
Her expression softened and he felt the relief of it in his bones.
“Everyone has something that makes them uncomfortable.” She shivered. “I’ll share one of mine with you—if you’ll close that window.”
He turned and lowered the sash at once. “You are frightened of storms?”
“Not frightened, exactly.” She came to stand next to him and set the book upright on the widow sill. “My family traveled to the Americas, you see, while I was young. Mother wanted to collect specimens for her greenhouses and my father was willing to indulge her, and he also wished to investigate some different fertilization and farming practices.”
“What an adventure it must have been.”
“It was. I loved it. That is when I began to be truly interested in the natural world and the study of it. Everything, all of the flora and fauna, was so different there. I was fascinated.” She raised a brow at him. “I saw a skunk.”
“Did you?” He was interested. “Did you smell it, too?”
“Yes.” She gave a shiver. “Fortunately, it didn’t spray me. But I felt sorry indeed for the poor fellow who got caught in it.”
“It was as bad as they say?”
“Oh, yes. But it was also an oddly appealing little thing. And the bear we saw smelled nearly as bad, truthfully.”
Now he had a thousand questions he could ask her, but he didn’t wish to stray from the most important one. “And did you get caught in a storm over there?”
“On the crossing over.” She stared out at the flickering lightning for a long moment. “It was terrible. The lightning felt like it was striking next to us, and the wind roared like a beast. The waves . . . we were tossed about, up one mountain of water, then a long, sickening slide down until we hit another. Seawater was everywhere.” She sighed. “The worst part was the feeling of utter helplessness. There was no action we could take, save to hang on and pray we made it through. I hated that feeling. Sometimes, a large storm will bring back the echo of it.” She swallowed.
The first rush of rain spattered against the window just then and she jumped. “See,” she said, laughing a little. “I feel foolish.”
“Don’t.” He cleared his throat. “I fear we are out of balance. I shared a trifling reaction and you a deep-rooted experience.”
She tilted her head up at him. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“Honestly, it doesn’t.”
