“My dear Arthur,” he addressed the middle-aged man sitting in the armchair opposite. “This is the genius behind the book.”
Arthur had an open copy of the book in his lap. He turned to the front cover, and his eyes flicked from the title page to her. “You are Pierre-Marie Ashley?”
“She is,” Lord M agreed cheerfully. “Now transformed into a Selkie, a blue sea-spirit.”
He seemed permanently cheerful now. This couldn’t be the same man who had terrorised the household for years. Could the transformation really be the result of the wedding?
“Young lady” —The man extended his hand to shake hers— “Delighted to meet you. Arthur Mogridge.”
Wow.She caught her breath.TheArthur Mogridge? He was a big name in publishing. “You’re the editor ofBritish History Magazine, aren’t you?”
“Was.” He inclined his head. “Now I merely sit on their advisory board. Also, onThe Edinburgh Review.”
In her mind, she was crouched low on the grass by the river that sunny spring morning, watching a kingfisher swoop down and catch a fish. Could she become the kind of person who pounced on opportunities?
“I was thinking of writing this.” — She pointed at the book — “as an academic article. In fact, it’s mostly written, I just need to give it a final polish.”
He nodded. A man in his position must get schmoozed by hopeful writers all the time. “I have no say in editorial content of either publication, but I would be happy to read it.”
“My dear Arthur,” Lord M interjected. “Don’t be fooled by the colourful hair and ethnic skirts. This young woman has a sharp mind and if you don’t want her work, then I will be recommending her to BBC History.”
Arthur Mogridge raised his eyebrow. “You would go to our rivals?”
“I would.” Despite the smile, there was no mistaking the quiet challenge in Lord M’s friendly words.
Pierre could almost see the silent duel between the two powerful old men. She decided to add her ammunition. “I am planning a series of academic articles on the traditions of La Canette.”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lord M’s lips twitch, the way he did when he was trying not to smile.
“What’s your next topic?” he asked, encouraging her.
“Brewing and the earth festivals.”
Arthur Mogridge’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Tell me more.”
“There were these ancient festivals like the Plough—”
Lord M reached for her hand and squeezed, signalling she should stop. “Now, now, Arthur. If you want to know more, you’ll have to read her article. Or perhaps commission her to write it for your rag.”
“I might if I had a better idea,” he answered before turning back to her. “What else do you plan?”
“No.” Lord M didn’t let her answer. “Don’t pick her brains so you can send one of your hacks. This is still my island.”
Arthur held his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right.” He laughed. “Young lady, you have a champion here.” He indicated Lord M. “Send me your first article when it’s ready and I’ll recommend it to our editorial team. If they like it, we can talk about the series.”
Her hand was still in Lord M’s; his grip on her softened and warmed as he gave her a final nudge. “You came in to see me about something?” he asked.
Sometimes, his fast thinking left her reeling. “Yes, I wanted to ask if it’s okay to leave you for a few days until I finish the article. I need to be somewhere quiet, and I thought perhaps the library…”
“Go. Go. I don’t need you.” He gave her a dazzling smile and waved her away.
______
She forced herself to work, to go into the library in the village and convert the wedding book into a plain, dry academic article with no pictures. When that was finished, she researched the brewing traditions on La Canette. Cider from the apples. Ale flavoured with nettle or honey. Four days stretched into four weeks.
Cook made her packed breakfasts and lunches which she ate on her own in the village and didn’t go home until she was tired. So tired that when she climbed the stairs to her room each night, she was too tired to look for Gabriel. So tired that she slept as soon as her head hit the pillow and didn’t listen to the silence on the other side of the wall.
Lord M helped, acting as an informal sounding board, and giving her a nudge in the right direction when she needed it.
