“My name is Mercy Starling. A woman named Janna—”
“Ah, you’re Janna’s friend who’s going to take her place. Excellent. Can you get yourself to Bestford? I’m coming up from Dover with a load of equipment, but I won’t be there until early evening.”
I figured there had to be a train going that way, or at least a bus. If nothing else, Janna said it was only a couple of miles away—dragging my bag wasn’t ideal, but given my present state of mind, it was better than staying here and fuming. “Sure. I’m at the town next to Bestford, so I should be able to make it there on my own.”
“Great. Just ask the locals how to get to Bestwood Hall. There’s a private road leading to the house itself, but if you have the bus drop you at the end of it, I’ll pick you up on my way in.”
“Sounds good. Um. I’m not super-clear on what the job is, other than kind of a general gofer situation. What exactly do you guys do? Janna didn’t tell me other than saying something about performance.”
Vandal’s voice cut out as he started to speak, but I could have sworn he said something about medieval knights before the connection went dead. I stared at the phone for a moment, then spun around and marched over to the shop window, which held a variety of posters and advertisements. Sure enough, located right in the middle of notices of parish meetings, pony club summer parties, and housecleaners looking for work was a colorful poster showing a man in full fourteenth-century plate armor, wielding a big-ass sword.
Join the Hard Day’s Knights,read the headline.Learn to fight the medieval way! Britain’s premieremedieval combat full-contact troupe comes to Cornwall for a summer session of swordplay, archery, and medieval combat. Join us at Bestwood Hall for the day, or a week! Classes run hourly and weekly, with personalized instruction available.
There was more, but I didn’t stop to read it. I simply thanked the shop lady, grabbed my duffel bag and slung it over my back, and headed out to find a bus that would take me to the summer job to end all summer jobs.
It wasn’t until about four that I finished navigating the convoluted network of buses that inexplicably took me to three different towns before dropping me off at my destination. I had a two-and-a-half-mile hike out to where Bestwood Hall was located, and by the time I turned off the paved road, and onto a graveled one bearing a sign that announced Bestwood Hall was a mere mile ahead, I was sweaty, my shoulder hurt where the duffel strap dug into it, and my legs felt like they were made of marshmallows.
“Screw it,” I said, dropping the bag and plopping myself down onto it in a graceless heap. I stared balefully at large black wrought iron gates, one of which hung askew, like a bird with a broken wing. “I’m taking a rest. Hopefully Vandal will find me before I have to drag myself another mile.”
Around me, sounds of wildlife could be heard; sitting quietly, I could hear at least ten different birdcalls and songs. A gentle lowing sound from the distance reminded me of the rurality of the area, and the fluffy little white blobs seen on a faraway hill bespoke the presence of more than just cows grazing the lush pastureland. Behind me, the grasses rustled mysteriously, and at one point, a sharp-eyed little brown face peered out at me.
“Ferret?” I asked the face. “Weasel? Stoat? I wish I knew the difference, but I haven’t taken the zoology courses that I wanted, so I’m afraid I don’t know what you are.”
A low rumbling sound grew louder as I spoke, a car appearing down the road. The face considered me for another few seconds; then with a twitch of his whiskers, he was gone. I shifted my attention from the tall tangled grasses to the car, wondering if it was Vandal. When the car slowed down at the dirt road, I got to my feet, relief swamping me. I grabbed my bag and stepped out into the road, smiling gratefully when the car pulled to a stop in front of me.
“You have the best timing ever,” I told him, crossing in front of the car to get to the passenger side, and shoving my bag into the backseat before taking my place. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to see you. I really wasnotlooking forward to that mile walk, and I was getting to the point where I was explaining to the weasel or stoat about the zoology classes.”
Vandal stared at me for a minute. “Er... you’re a zoologist?”
“No, but I’d like to be one.”
“Ah. A noble pursuit, I believe.”
“It’s interesting, that’s for sure. But like I said, you have excellent timing. My feet hurt bad enough without having to do another mile.”
“Another mile?”
I pointed to the sign. “It wouldn’t be bad, except my bag weighs a ton.”
He turned around in his seat to take a good look at my bag. “What’s in it?”
“Just my stuff.” I settled back in the seat with a sigh of comfort. “Things I need for the summer.”
His eyes narrowed at me, and I had to admit, I was probably more aware of him than an employee should be of her employer. He looked like he was in his early thirties, with a slight case of stubble that made my knees feel a bit wobbly, a square chin, and a couple of dents on his cheeks that warned he might be the possessor of dimples. I sincerely hoped not—I had low enough tolerance to men with square chins and manly stubble, but if Vandal threw in dimples on top of it, then I’d have a hell of time keeping my libido under control.
Especially since it had been two years since I’d had a boyfriend.
Twolongyears.
“Things you need for the summer?” Vandal looked confused as he repeated what I’d said, his face suddenly clearing as he nodded. “Ah. You’re here to... er...helpme, yes?”
“That’s right.” I slid him a curious glance when he put the car into gear and began to bump his way down the somewhat rutted dirt road. Had he forgotten our conversation already? “I hope you don’t mind about the substitution.”
“Eh?” He risked a glance at me for a few seconds, then returned his attention to the road.
“You know, Janna. Since she was supposed to be here, but I’m here to do the job, instead. I appreciate you letting me come in her place.”
“Ah. I didn’t realize there were two of you. She’s very resourceful.”
