“Thank you so much, miss. Though it seems that we will not be seeing too much of each other. Where is it that you live again? Some island?”
Aster shakes her head. “It’s hard to explain, darling. Just let her go.”
Marigold nods in understanding—of course, he does not know of Innisfree, nor does he know of her magic. She suspects that Mr. Woodrake would be kind and intrigued by it, but it is best to keep matters as this contained to those who have proven their trust. Who knows what would happen if Bardshire learned that the Claude girl was a witch? Luckily, she will never have to find out. She will return to Innisfree as soon as she can, ensuring that everyone who needs her help may have it.
She walks to August’s room and knocks on the door. He opens it enthusiastically, but his smile falls when he sees it is only Marigold.
She laughs. “Hoping for someone else? My brother, perhaps?”
“Maybe,” he mumbles.
She giggles and says, “Do you happen to know where Lottie is?”
“Come now, Mari. You know her well enough to guess.”
“I don’t think so,” she says, but August insists, leaning against the doorframe and looking up through his lashes.
“Lottie always struggles to sleep in a new bed. And what does Lottie do when she can’t sleep?”
She ponders before she says, “She draws.”
“And where does Lottie like to go while she draws?”
“Outside?”
“And who is her favorite artist who paints the gardens of his home, which happen to be the same gardens that are currently outside her bedroom window?”
“Of course,” she says, palming her forehead. “She’s in the gardens.”
“There you go,” August says.
Marigold runs down the stairs, through the door, and into the gardens, where she finds Lottie sitting against an apple tree sketching the world around her. To her surprise, beside Lottie is her father, peering over Lottie’s shoulder and attempting to draw in a sketchbook of his own.
“Good morning, you two,” she says.
“Hello, darling!” her father says. “I must say, Miss Burke here is an exceptional talent.”
Marigold tilts her head to the side as she stares at her with admiration. “She is, isn’t she?”
“Stop it,” Lottie says as she laughs softly and tucks a wild red lock behind her ear.
“We shall not! You have a gift that needs to be celebrated!” Lord Claude says.
Lottie smiles and looks up at him. “I cannot even begin to tell you what an honor it is to hear that from you. Thank you, truly.”
“The honor is mine,” he replies as he walks to his daughter’s side and gives her a hug. “I shall be in my study practicing some of the new techniques I’ve learned this morning if anyone should require my presence.” Once he walks up the stairs and into their home, Marigold turns to Lottie and says, “You must allow me to see your sketchbook now.”
“It’s not finished yet.”
“You said that last time!” Marigold takes the sketchbook out of Lottie’s hand. “I’m afraid I can wait no longer.”
Lottie is fast, but not fast enough. Marigold clutches the book to her chest and runs out of the garden with Lottie trailing behind.
“Give that back!”
Marigold narrowly escapes out the gardens and runs through the trees. “I will if you can catch me!”
Lottie hesitates, unaware of the new surroundings, but pushes forward. She is only a few steps behind Marigold, but she cannot seem to get a grip on her. When she gets the slightest grasp on her elbow, Marigold elegantly twists herself out of it and continues to run away. But Lottie doesn’t tire and Marigold must resort to other tactics of escape. She takes sharp turns until the two seem to be waltzing through the trees together. Even still, she slips through Lottie’s fingers like summer air, weaving between the tall trees before they taper into an open meadow.
