Without a word, Algernon dashed into his and locked himself inside. Parry turned toward the other. “I apologize inadvance for all the magazine pictures of Prince Albert Victor on the walls,” he said. “My daughter is a romantic.” And with that portentous word, he opened the door.
It was worse than Elodie had feared. She managed perhaps four steps into the room before every muscle in her body seized with anxiety. Beside her, Gabriel also stopped, his breath catching. Together, they stared at the bed set against one wall. It seemed to stare back at them coyly, all frilly pillowcases and pink embroidered roses. It did not even appear to be only one bed but a mere three-quarters of a bed, alarmingly narrow beneath a lavish heap of counterpanes that made Elodie feel overheated just looking at it. Light so pale as to be practically bridal white slanted through a window to illuminate the bed within the room’s warm duskiness; and indeed, if other furniture existed therein, Elodie was blinded to it by the gleaming, enticing, quite terrifyingthingthat was rapidly transforming from a bed to a torture device in her mind.
She began to regret not developing calm sobriety as a character trait. Her pulse had begun acting out an Italian opera while her imagination was already cozy in that bed with Gabriel and really, really not helping matters by sending her various animated images. Beside her, the real Gabriel seemed petrified—i.e., turned to stone.
Parry, oblivious to their taut silence, bustled about, tidying things away. “I’ll bring you up some fresh linen (five shillings). And if you come to the taproom, I’ll let you sample Dôlylleuad’s finest plum brandy (fivepence per glass), or you might prefer a nice cup of tea to warm you up (threepence, milk and sugar extra, plus a teaspoon hire fee). It’s not a large bed, I’m afraid, but I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
In fact, it was so opposite of large, it might have served asan official antonym for the word. Elodie guessed it would prove barely adequate for one person, let alone both her and her estranged husband-cum-nemesis…
Andthatwas a very unhelpful thought to have under the circumstances.
“All right, then?” Parry asked.
“Mm,” Elodie said.
“Hm,” Gabriel said.
They set their ER kits down with a simultaneousthump.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. And if you want—oh, bother. I didn’t realize that had been left here.” He dragged a rolled-up mattress from beside the dressing table. “I’ll just take it away to give you more—”
“No!” Elodie and Gabriel both shouted.
“That’s fine, don’t trouble yourself,” Elodie said with an urgent smile.
“It’s no trouble,” Parry assured her, hauling the mattress toward the door.
“Really, please, you’ll hurt your back,” Elodie insisted.
“I can manage, I can,” Parry insisted right back.
Abruptly, Gabriel stepped into his path and grabbed hold of the mattress. Laughing awkwardly, the innkeeper clung on. Gabriel tugged; Parry tugged; both of them frowned. Finally, Gabriel gave a decided yank, and Parry stumbled backward, relinquishing his hold. Gabriel clutched the mattress as if the very fate of the world depended upon it.
“Thank you so much for everything,” Elodie said at once, rushing to shake Parry’s hand. “We’re truly grateful,” she added as she guided the man toward the door. “You’ve been marvelous. Thanks again.”
And she shut him out of the room.
Turning back to Gabriel, she attempted a smile, but he had set the mattress aside and retreated to the edge of the room, where he bent over his ER kit, assiduously avoiding eye contact.Good,Elodie thought.I don’t want to look at you either. She crossed to the window on the other side of the room. They were now as far from each other and the bed as possible, an interesting case of geographic triangulation Elodie did not wish to explore. She peered out through the window’s mullioned panes, checking the atmosphere.
Thankfully the villagers had gone indoors, for the sky over the village writhed with a dark morass of storm that shed bright splinters of magic along with the rain. Trouble was not just afoot but organizing a parade.
“With this weather, we probably have four more hours of light at most,” she told Gabriel.
“Three and a half,” he said, checking his wristwatch, and Elodie rolled her eyes. “I’m going to inspect the immediate area for hazards.”
“I’ll survey the locals,” Elodie answered. Taking a beige linen skirt from her kit, she donned it hastily. It was only mid-calf length—a risqué style that was permitted in a disaster zone, since although Britain’s population liked their women in long dresses, they liked even better being protected from river tsunamis and exploding wildflowers. “Shall we meet for dinner to compare notes?”
“Agreed,” Gabriel said. He put on a long black coat, and while Elodie buttoned her skirt, he took a notebook and pencil from one pocket, his spectacles from another, and settled in with a contented frown to check items off a list. Then she noticed him glance in her direction, and the frown deepened.He added something to the list before promptly ticking it, hispencil moving with a stoicism that made Elodie suspect the completed item wasmake polite conversation with wife.
Although upon second thought, no, that couldn’t possibly be it,since he’d not done so the entire day.
She ought to have been annoyed. Instead, mischief bubbled up within her like a witch’s brew. Dignity tried to repress it—but given that an extensive education, the opinion of society, and several warning letters from her head of department had always failed to do so, her rather scrawny allotment of dignity had no hope. She smiled at Gabriel.
“And how are you?” she asked in a pleasant voice.
He looked up at her blankly over the fine silver rim of his spectacles. “What?”
“Well, I hope? Enjoying your days?”
