Keeper of Enchanted Rooms

Chapter 9

October 29, 1833, Liverpool, England

Silas felt like he could finally breathe.

He’d left it all behind. The house, the staff, the city, the memories. The transition had been smooth, nearly without conflict. These walls held no portraits of lords past, nor of the lost. No painted eyes followed him, and the walls sang with magic that he would incorporate into himself. Yes, he’d left it all behind, except for the bodies. They were stowed away safely now, where no one would ever find them.

And that included the staff the London Institute for the Keeping of Enchanted Rooms had insisted on inflicting on him. He’d accepted the bare minimum of staff, for if he’d refused any help, it would be deemed peculiar. Gorse End was a notable estate registered with LIKER, so it would look well to play by their rules. For now.

He strode down a hall with east-facing windows, taking in the crisp autumn morning, the bright white of the sky. Hands clasped behind his back, he smiled, breathing in the cool air seeping through open panes.

He was at home here.

The sound of approaching footsteps gave him pause. Turning, he saw Stanley Lidgett, his steward, approaching. Lidgett was the only staff member he’d kept from Henspeak—he’d discharged the rest into the city. He wanted a skeleton staff here, only those whose presence was absolutely necessary. And Lidgett—he’d always trusted Lidgett. He understood more than others did.

When the steward reached him, he bowed. “Sorry to disturb you, but the housekeeper from Boston arrived early.”

“Oh?” Silas gestured with a hand, and the two men walked back the way Lidgett had come. He knew LIKER had a child company in the States—they must have been overburdened to bring in someone from Boston. Silas hid a smile—all the better for his purposes, to have a housekeeper who wasn’t local. He wasn’t entirely put off by the obligation; aspects of Gorse End were still unfamiliar to him. Once he fully understood the nature of the house’s magic and had resided there for the required length of time, as established per LIKER’s regulations, he would carefully dismiss their employee. He didn’t want any nosy would-be wizards detecting that the spells had suddenly vanished from the house and embedded themselves in Silas’s person.

They went down the stairs to the morning room. No footman waited to open the door, which made Silas smile inwardly. Stepping inside the white-and-green-furnished room, his eyes fell upon a young woman on the settee.

She immediately rose, but before Lidgett could make the introduction, Silas said, “You’re a little young for a housekeeper, are you not?” Early twenties, mid at most. Another blessing—she was inexperienced.

The woman gave him a patient smile. “I assure you I am well trained both in housekeeping duties and in enchantments, Lord Hogwood.”

Lidgett cleared his throat. “The housekeeper, Lord Hogwood. Mrs. Hulda Larkin.”

Silas nodded, inspecting the woman. She was a little on the tall side, with her hair pulled back into a severe knot. She had sharp eyes and a square jaw, with spectacles resting on a too-large nose.

Utterly average.

“I’m aware of the faux pas,” Silas added, “but given your employer, I presume you’ve magic of your own?”

A rosy glow took to her cheeks. She pushed her shoulders back. “As I will be working under you, Lord Hogwood, it is a fair question. I am an augurist.”

It took a great deal of effort to keep his face smooth. An augurist could prove tricky, unless she happened to have a simple spell of luck, like his own. “Intriguing! What is your specialty?”

The flush remained as she answered, “I do not wish to get your hopes up, my lord. My skills are weak at best, and I’ve only the ability of divination.”

He considered this a moment. Divination was tied to patterns—tea leaves, dice, even clipped nails. Weak though she may be, if this woman saw something of his and peeked into his future, it might ruin everything.

Turning her away would cast suspicion on him, however, and with the disappearance of both his mother and brother, he could not risk further suspicion.

Besides . . . keeping her around would do the opposite, wouldn’t it? Only a man innocent of wrongdoing would keep an augurist in the house. If he subtly circulated news of his new staff member, it would boost his reputation.

At least she wasn’t a psychometrist, or he might already be found out.

“Welcome aboard, Mrs. Larkin.” He smiled. “My steward will show you the house.” Turning about, he clasped a hand on Lidgett’s shoulder and leaned close to his ear. “Tell the maids I will speak with them in my study. As soon as possible.”

The steward nodded, and Silas left the room. Yes, the maids would be his protection. He would keep Gorse End immaculate, not a stray hair or stirring of dust to be seen. Nothing to give a floundering diviner any chance of spying into his future.

It belonged to no one but him.