He began to help Mrs. Hennings to her feet, a process that went fairly well until she put her weight on her left leg. She cried out then, not loudly, and grabbed involuntarily at Stephen’s arm as her knee buckled.
“A week off,” he said, bracing her calmly. More memories came back to him: the aftermath of fire and flood, battle and plague. “At least. And we’ll have a doctor in as soon as you’re settled.”
“Why don’t you go and send for one?” Miss Seymour stepped forward. “I’ll help Mrs. Hennings get comfortable. Unless—is there anyone else in the house?”
“Not yet,” said Stephen. Even Baldwin and his wife had left: Baldwin had mentioned taking in a show. Neither of them had been to London before, and they were evidently determined to enjoy it.
Stephen met Miss Seymour’s gaze again—You can disgrace me and the professor both, he heard her say in his memory—and then bowed to the inevitable.
A short walk later, he returned to find Miss Seymour sitting at the kitchen table, her hands folded in her lap. The broken teapot was gone; the tea and the blood had both been mopped up. Everything about the scene was calm. Outwardly, at least.
Miss Seymour looked up at the sound of footsteps, eyes narrowed and body tense. When she saw Stephen, she relaxed, but only a little.
“I’ve sent an errand boy for Doctor Gregory,” said Stephen. “He’ll be here shortly, I’d imagine. How is Mrs. Hennings?”
“Lying down,” said Miss Seymour. “One of your maids is with her. Jenny. She got here a bit after you left.”
“And what does she know of the incident?”
“Only that Mrs. Hennings had a nasty fall. No need to mention burglars. Mrs. Hennings thinks it’d only scare the girls.” Miss Seymour looked up at him and lifted an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t want that.”
“I certainly would not.” Stephen pulled out the chair opposite Miss Seymour and sat down. “I try not to frighten women and children, as a rule. Particularly when they work for me.”
The look on Miss Seymour’s face was, for a moment, one of undisguised skepticism. She opened her mouth, seemed to think better of whatever she’d been going to say, and turned it into a sigh.
Stephen sighed too. Eight in the evening, and already the night felt very long.
“My lord,” said Miss Seymour, and the title felt wrong coming from her. Stephen wasn’t sure why. “I’d guess there’s a reason you’ve kept me here, and I’d also guess it’s not for my company. And you’d have called the police by now if you were going to. Unless you sent for them when you were out just now,” she added, and her mouth went thin. “In which case, I’ll point out to them that there’s nothing illegal about having a cup of tea with your cook, and I only went farther into the house because I was running away from those things. Whatwerethose things?”
“Manes,” said Stephen. “The Romans thought they were the spirits of the restless dead. I’m…less certain of that.”
“They don’t act like anything that was ever a person. Or look it,” said Miss Seymour. She wrapped her arms around her chest, defensive. “Either way, you’re talking about ghosts, or—or devils, or something like.”
“I am.”
“Why did they come here? Why’d they go after Mrs. Hennings and me? And what are you?” Miss Seymour fired the questions across the table, stopped, and reloaded for a final shot. “And what’ve you got to do with Professor Carter, anyhow?”
“That last question brought you here, I take it?”
“Yes.”
Stephen rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Have you had supper?”
Miss Seymour blinked. “What? No.”
“Then,” Stephen said, getting to his feet, “we’re going to eat. Even if it’s only cold meat and bread. I’m not fond of making either explanations or plans on an empty stomach.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a bit of a meal,” Miss Seymour admitted, “but—plans? What sort of plans?”
Stephen, who’d been on his way to the pantry, turned to look back at her. “You’ve seen a great deal tonight,” he said, “and at a very dangerous time. We cannot pretend otherwise, I think, even if you were the sort of girl for that, which you are not.”
“No,” she said, sounding both pleased and annoyed at the same time.
“So—” Stephen spread his hands. “Here we are, you and I. What do we do now?”
Four
The pantry turned out to hold bread and cold chicken, as well as butter and plum preserves, though the previous difficulties with shadowy invaders meant that there was no more tea.
