“Itmighthave been a mad idea to collapse the muddle in the way I did, causing it to displace us such a distance.”
He glanced at her then, a tint of amusement in his eyes. “Are you tired of walking already?”
“No. But we’re without food and water, and goodness only knows what trouble Professor Jackson will be getting into back at the village.”
Gabriel did not reply as he rolled up his map, securing it with an elastic band. Elodie assumed he’d abandoned the conversation. But then he said, “To be fair, considering the intense energy output upon its dissolution, I suspectanyescape attempt would have met the same result.”
Elodie blinked, astonished. Then her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Stop being reasonable.”
He slipped the map back into its special long pocket inside his coat. “Stop criticizing yourself.”
“You said my actions were foolhardy and could have got us killed.”
“Well, upon reconsidering the evidence, and with a new set of calculations that suggested—”
“Get to the point, please.”
He frowned at her. “I was wrong.”
Elodie’s jaw dropped, which inspired Gabriel to frown even more severely. “Being wrong is necessary for me sometimes,” he said, “in order to illuminate my general record of being right.”
She closed her mouth with a clash of teeth and strode forth away from him, trying to ignore that he kept pace easily. But she managed only half a minute in angry silence before she burst out, “You are so—the most—cottage.”
Gabriel gave her a strange look. “I’m a cottage?”
“No, there!” She pointed to a small building visible among a small cluster of trees in the near distance. No light shone at its window nor smoke arose from its squat chimney, which quite frankly Elodie found encouraging, considering herearlier experience with locals. “Come on!” she said, and began to run.
ShefeltGabriel shake his head disapprovingly at her. But when she glanced back, she saw him following her, his pace calm and steady. He made a grim, brooding figure in the deepening shadows, like some manifestation of old Welsh myths, and Elodie’s imagination immediately transformed her into a springtime maiden, bedecked with wildflowers, stalked by the terrifying but darkly romantic winter king…
“Be careful,” Gabriel said blandly.
Be careful?That was the best he could do as a creature of haunted midnight? Elodie scoffed.
And ran straight into a bush.
—
For as longas she could remember, Elodie had been excessively fond of a cottage. Perhaps this was due to a childhood spent living in tents and caravans, or perhaps it was from too much time spent in those tents reading romances. She liked to daydream about finding Mr. Darcy not at his grand manor but in a cozy, single-bedroom house at which she was forced to seek shelter due to stormy weather. He would be stony and brooding, but she rather liked that, and she would be dignified, witty, calm like Elizabeth Bennet, instead of the Marianne Dashwood she knew herself truly to be.
Alas, if only she’d read Jane Austen’s works as scrupulously as she did maps, she’d have been forewarned about the dubious wisdom of loving a cottage.
The little house beside the trees was comfortable in the way a heap of used rags would be comfortable. That it proved unoccupied was no surprise, for the grime and the dank smellwould certainly have driven away any reasonable tenant. Enough daylight remained for Elodie and Gabriel to see very quickly that dust covered the few shabby pieces of furniture in its living room, old ashes filled the hearth, and an entire civilization of spiders had built cobweb empires at each ceiling corner. Elodie, chewing her lip, tried to summon some positive comment; Gabriel, however, did not spend even three seconds inside before making for the exit.
He was met there by a sudden torrential downpour. Consequently, there was only one thing to do: cheerfully make the best of it! (Elodie) / suffer (Gabriel).
Inspecting the house more thoroughly, they found some canned food in the kitchen, firewood stacked beside the hearth, and a bedroom containing only one bed.
Now this is more like it,Elodie thought. Granted, the notion of sleeping alongside Gabriel after an afternoon of kissing, embracing, and shoe-putting-on was a little nerve-racking, but she was prepared to be brave. The bed had an old iron frame, a blanket hopefully made from brown wool and not some other color that had become brown with grime, and just enough width for two occupants, provided they snuggle.
“You may take the bed,” Gabriel said. “I’ll sleep in the chair by the hearth.”
Elodie’s racked nerves twanged with irritation. “How gracious of you,” she said in a wry tone, for it was obvious he wasn’t being magnanimous but feared the state of the mattress.She, however, was not a pedant.Shedid not wobble at the mere sight of dust. “I’m looking forward to a comfortable sleep,” she remarked gaily.
“I suppose that’s the benefit of having an imagination,” Gabriel replied, albeit as if it was a bad thing.
They also found a few tallow candles, and Gabriel supplied matches from a pocket of his coat, thus providing them with light. Whether this was fortunate or not can be debated, for it allowed them to see more clearly what they were doing, but also to see more clearly the place they were doing it in. They got the fireplace cleaned out and lit—then very shortly thereafter discovered a possum had colonized the chimney. Only after dousing the flames and ensuring the possum was not going to come out to wreak revenge did they know peace.
By this point, Gabriel’s jaw was clenching so hard a dentist would have wept to see it. But Elodie kept her spirits up by dint of sheer obstinance. After all, she wouldn’t be Elodie Tarrant if she admitted how ghastly the situation was. The deeper Gabriel scowled, the brighter she smiled. The less he said, the more she filled his silence with cheerful observations that involved words like “quaint,” “pastoral,” and (when even her imagination began running out of positives) “quirky.” This resolution did waver slightly upon her visiting the outhouse, but a nearby tree served her needs just as well, and it wasrefreshingto get wet and cold in the rain.
