“It explains nothing,” Alden said, spurning the offer of cookies, and setting down his cup with enough firmness that it splashed tea onto the saucer. “It doesn’t explain why I arrived to take ownership of my house—a house that is supposed to be depleted of humans—and instead I find not only Lady Sybilla clearly still inresidence, but my back garden infested with medieval reenactors.”
“We’re not reenactors,” Fenice said quickly. “Not in the sense you mean. We are a combat troupe. We put on shows sometimes, yes, but we also compete in a sport that is very real.” She nodded toward her sling with her free hand. “And can be quite dangerous. I broke my collarbone two days ago at a training session with another group we help out from time to time. They had a bunch of stockbrokers from London learning how to use swords, and one of them didn’t listen to the instructions, and I ended up with a cracked bone. I haven’t told Patrick yet—he’ll have a fit when he finds out, since it will leave us without an archery instructor—but I assure you that we are not simply a group who dresses up and pretends we live in the past. As for us packing up the equipment, I think you misunderstand the situation. We paid to be here, and I don’t see that the sale of the house itself has anything to do with that agreement. Patrick has a contract with Lady Sybilla.”
“Ouch,” I said sympathetically. “You’re an archer? At one point in time, I thought about getting a degree in physical education—”
“I’m sorry,” Alden interrupted, putting a hand on my arm. “My apologies for cutting you off, Mercy, but am I to understand that you arerefusingto take your things and leave?” The last was directed at Fenice.
“That’s right.” Fenice tipped her chin up. “We have an agreement, signed by the owner of Bestwood, that says we have rented this area for three weeks to use for our combat training school.”
“Iam the owner of Bestwood,” Alden repeated, looking frustrated. His hair, full of dark chocolatebrown curls that were shot through with dark honey strands, looked like it was standing on end.
“Now you are, but you weren’t when we made the agreement.”
Alden took a deep breath, and turned to Lady Sybilla. “Do you have anything to say about the situation?”
The old lady looked him over like he was a bit of undercooked dinner being offered for her inspection. She gave the impression that she was using one of those quizzing glasses the Regency folk loved so much. “I remember you. You’re the lad who wants me to leave my family home.”
“It was your husband’s family home, not yours,” Alden pointed out. “And I—”
“You want me to leave my adopted family home.” Lady Sybilla gave another sniff. “You wish to throw me out onto the road where any vagabond could abuse me with his ruffian ways.”
“Wow,” I said, looking at Alden. “That’s harsh, dude.”
“Oh, for the love of... I don’t want to toss her out into the road!” Alden gestured past what I assumed was the old stable block. “She has a home! A very nice home. I should know, because I had to pay for the house to be updated with fresh paint, and a herd of cleaning ladies that were in there for three days straight, and, of course, furniture moving, not to mention having the roof repaired.”
“Oh.” I looked at the elderly woman. “That seems pretty nice of Alden. Hi, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Mercy.”
“Lady Sybilla Baskerville, youngest daughter of the Earl of Glamgoran, and relic of the late Sir James Baskerville of Bestwood Hall,” she replied in her stiff,very upper-crust voice. She offered me her fingers for a brief ladylike shake. “You have an air about you similar to that of my late sister Pamela.”
“I do? Uh...”
“I always found Pamela very comforting. You will tell your young man that I do not wish to leave the home that has been mine since I was a young gel of twenty.”
“Oh, he’s not mine. I just found him on the drive,” I said, correcting her.
“Lady Sybilla,” Alden said, spreading his hands in an attempt to reason with her. “You act like I’m a villain who wants to wash his hands of you, when the truth is far from that. You, yourself, set the terms of the sale. As it is, I am providing you with a home rent free for the rest of your life. All I ask is that you honor those terms, and move to the gatekeeper’s house so that I can renovate the empty house.”
“But it’s not empty,” Fenice said, leaning back in the chair and smiling at us.
It didn’t reach her eyes. I thought that was somehow significant.
Alden shot her an annoyed glance. “I know it’s not empty now, but once Lady Sybilla moves to the gatehouse—”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Fenice’s smile became distinctly more cat-who-ate-the-cream. “Lady Sybilla told us that Patrick and I could stay in the house. And now that Mercy is here, she’ll need a place to stay as well, so that makes three of us, although Patrick said something about dossing down in the barn to guard the equipment. Even so, that’s three of us, not counting Adams.”
“Who is Adams?” Alden asked, somewhat wildly, I thought. I eyed him, wondering if I should pat himsoothingly on the arm. He certainly did not seem to be taking well the news about Lady Sybilla’s refusal to vacate her old home.
“Adams is with me,” Lady Sybilla said in her rich voice. “She used to work for Lord Baskerville in an agricultural advisory position, but after his passing some twenty-two years ago, she has become my companion and maidservant. I do not intend to have her sent away from me, if that is what you plan to do, you beastly man.”
“I am not beastly,” Alden said, his voice rife with frustration. “I don’t wish to send anyone away—I simply want you to move into the gatekeeper’s lodge as you agreed to do. You can take your maid with you. Hell, for that matter, you can take everyone with you,” he said, jerking his head toward me. “The more the merrier and all that. But no one—I repeat,no one—is going to be staying in the house but me. I have a lot of renovation plans, and none of them can be achieved if people are getting underfoot.”
I had to admit, I had been in the process of feeling sympathy toward him. He seemed nice enough, having agreed to give the old lady a home when he probably could have insisted she clear out for good, and he even went to what had to be a substantial expense making sure her new digs were comfortable. But then he went and ruined that impression by more or less dumping me with the others into the lodge with poor Lady Sybilla.
I turned and squinted at the house. It didn’t look in its prime, but it also didn’t look like it was about to fall down about our ears. “You know,” I said amiably, “I bet Fenice and I could find two bedrooms in a house that size where we wouldn’t be underfoot. I mean, you can’t renovate the entire house at once, can you?”
“That’s not the point,” Alden said, running a hand through his hair. He looked at the end of his tether. “The house is supposed to be empty, and now I find that not only has Lady Sybilla let out the grounds without my permission, but now others have joined her in the house. My house. The one I’ve sunk every last pound into.”
“We aren’t any trouble,” Fenice said quickly. “Patrick and I spend most of our time out here getting the equipment ready, and of course, once the classes begin tomorrow, we’ll be outside for the entire day.”
