I watched the chicken meander down the street with a barely suppressed smile. “I think the squire needs to invest in a better fence if he wants to keep things out.”
Miss Cornelia seemed to shrink under my question. “I’m afraid my master is insistent that the owners of the animals mind them.”
The chicken joined its flock a few houses down, no doubt to tell them of the local grub to be found in the neighboring yard. “Oh.”
“Is the good squire married?” Cassian spoke up as we reached the gate.
Miss Cornelia opened the gate and held the barrier open for us. “No, sir. He asks a high price for a bride.”
“Cassian, if you would,” Cassian pleaded as we strolled through the gate. “And how old is the squire?”
“Forty, sir-” A look of gentle warning from Cassian’s bright eyes stopped her. “Forty, Cassian.” She squirmed and grasped the basket in her other hand. “If you would, Cassian, I must address you formally if you’re to stay here.”
Cassian studied the imposing manor with a smile. “That is perfectly understandable. I hope your master will allow us to stay.”
Miss Cornelia paused on the front step and half-turned to face us. There was a sparkle of hope in her eyes. “As do I, sir.”
Chapter 18
Miss Cornelia opened the door and allowed us first entrance. We found ourselves in a small foyer with maps of all kinds that hung from the sanded walls. I noticed something strange about the maps and stepped up to a half dozen of the charts.
I half-turned to Miss Cornelia as she set her basket down and took up Cassian’s coat. “Do these maps all show the same place?”
She draped his coat over her arm and hurried over to me. “Yes, Mrs. Holt. My master commissioned two dozen artists to draw his land holdings.”
“Nothing gives a man more pleasure than to see what he’s achieved.”
The sudden voice came from a doorway to our left, where a man of forty strolled through the arch. He was only a few inches taller than me, with a thick, handlebar black mustache. His thinning hair was slicked back, revealing a few patches that no amount of hair gel could hide. The squire wore a tweed-like outfit of some rough textile, and he marched across the bare boards in a pair of heavy black boots across the floor.
The squire stopped in front of our little troupe. Miss Cornelia curtsied to him and nodded at us. “These visitors were looking for a place to stay, Squire.”
The squire folded his arms over his chest and inspected us. “Were they? What trade are you in, sir?”
“I’m currently in the administrative part of the castle at the capital,” Cassian informed him as he held out his hand. “And you must be Squire Torquatus.”
Torquatus pried one of his arms loose and shook hands. “That must not pay very well, seeing as how there are quite a number of them in the castle, or so I’ve heard.”
“I get along,” Cassian assured him as he gestured to me. “May I introduce my lovely wife, Mrs. Holt.”
He bowed his head to me. “A pleasure, Mrs. Holt. Now then, Mr. Holt, I can show you the best room you ever slept in, but mind you, I expect a fair price from my guests.”
“Of course, Squire Torquatus,” Cassian answered as he patted his pocket where our meager coins chinked. “If you would show us the way through your vast home.”
Torquatus rubbed his hands together and bobbed his head. “Of course. It’s just this way.”
He led us up the elegant wooden staircase to the second floor. I couldn’t help but notice, however, that Miss Cornelia watched with bitten lips as we ascended the steps. Her eyes seemed to be pleading with us for something, but I couldn’t guess what.
A single hall ran the width of the house and separated the rear from the front. Our host led us leftward to the very last room on the rear-side of the house. He opened the door and swept his arm toward the entrance.
“Peruse the quarters to your liking.”
We stepped inside and found ourselves in a clean but small room. The space occupied was perhaps twelve feet square, and much of the room was filled with a huge bed. A small fireplace connected to one of the chimneys I had seen from outside, and a dresser of some age was huddled in a corner to our right. A single paneled window looked out on a small garden with a couple of sheds, and beyond that was the next street over. The sheds had seen better days, with their peeling paint and moss-covered roofs. One of them even leaned to one side.
Torquatus slithered in after us with a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat. “Well? What do you think? Quite a cozy little nest for you, isn’t it?”
Cassian brushed his hand over the soft quilt that covered the bed. “Quite cozy. How much do you charge per night?”
“My terms are a modest half a glin for the night, and food will be provided tonight and in the morning.”
