The Librarian's Spell by Patricia Rice (ebook offline reader TXT) 📗

roof covered both towers, then this suite could very well reflect what was under its floors.

He threw open the next door— a small valet’s chamber. He crossed the closet of a room, took the steps, and opened the next door— a bath similar to the one downstairs. “Is there a cistern on the roof?”

She looked more comfortable with this topic. “There is, and a well in the cellar on the castle side, near the kitchen. I believe there is also a cistern on the roof of the main block, but it’s a warren of closed-off rooms.”

He glanced up. The timbered ceiling continued through here, but it wasn’t as high as in the parlor. He knocked on the windowless inner wall. It sounded solid, but then, there was probably five feet of stone behind there. “This has to be an Ives castle. I don’t understand how it became a Malcolm library.”

“The families intermarried way back when,” Lydia reminded him. “And there’s no reason someone couldn’t have simply hired an Ives to make improvements.”

“I know the history. I live it. Malcolms married Ives for their fortunes and titles. I’m reasonably certain that’s why my mother married my father. They were in no way alike, but her father was a bankrupt earl, so she brought connections.” Stepping up to the next door and glancing in, Max blocked the entrance to the librarian’s private chamber.

“Your maternal grandfather owned property that he rented out,” she argued. “The earl wasn’t bankrupt. I saw the journals. He left Lady Phoebe’s mother an entire tenement when he died. His brother inherited a considerable rural estate.”

“And my mother and her sister inherited those crumbling medieval townhouses, I know. The old earl never improved what he owned or invested in anything new. My maternal uncle, the current earl, doesn’t either. That’s why my mother married an Ives, a progressive who understood that time marches on.”

“Are his brother and your cousin like your father?”

“Uncle David is only my father’s stepbrother and not an Ives, but as far as I’m aware, he and my cousin George were on their way to owning half Edinburgh when I left. So, yes, I’d say peas in a pod.”

Max finally stood aside so she could see inside the librarian’s bedchamber. “Apparently the elves have not only carried off Mr. Cadwallader, but magicked his chamber, Miss Librarian.”

Inside this final room, gold and blue hangings adorned the enormous tester bed. Lavender scented the air, as if Lydia had been living here all along. A delicate blue and gold teapot, still steaming, waited with a set of cups on a tea table before a grate already set for burning.

Slippers and a robe waited on the bed, along with a lacy frilly nightgown that gave Max way more ideas than he needed.

Eight

At sight of the chamber made up for her, Lydia covered her mouth to prevent a cry. Shoving past Max, she ran back through the suite to Mr. C’s room. His journal was gone. She hadn’t moved it.

They’d erased all signs of Mr. C. Fighting tears, she tried to compose herself while waiting for Max to follow. He did so slowly, studying the tower’s architecture.

Should she show him the library? Mr. C had never told her that the inner tower was a secret. There just hadn’t been any reason to tell anyone else about it. And well. . . concealed doors seemed secretive to her.

Lloyd knew the inner stairs were there. That’s how he and Marta had performed miracles without anyone noticing. They’d moved her into Mr. C’s room—as if they expected her to be the new librarian!

For any hope of that, she needed Max to stay and verify the tower wouldn’t tumble. Or prevent it from tumbling. That was imperative, far more imperative than the servants she’d promised to hire back. She should have been more conscious of his fear of his weird gift or magnetism and not invited them to return yet. But they were so happy. . .

The deed was done. It was apparently now up to her to make all the decisions, even if they were wrong. She took a deep breath—and felt Max’s gaze on her.

Lydia swung around and saw his frankly admiring look. She wanted to smack him for making her self-conscious when she needed to think clearly.

“The suite should suit you and Bakari while you stay here. There is a lock on this door.” She could almost hear Max’s question, so she forestalled it. She didn’t know how to lie properly, so she had to tell him about the library, somehow. “Marta and Lloyd, however, have keys.”

“And they turn invisible and climb the stairs right past us to set up teapots and fires?” he asked with humor, nailing her problem at once.

“You’re a guest,” she muttered. “You’re threatening to leave tomorrow. I’m still learning what the librarian must do, and I’m following Mr. C’s example as best as I can. I don’t know how much leeway I have until I find an instruction book or something useful. I don’t know how much to tell you.”

“This should be your suite,” he said emphatically. “You do not have to tell me anything. Maybe there’s a door on one of the corridors in the main block I can lock. I’d explore, but you said I need to stay with the boy until he wakes. If I stay, I’ll need to hire a manservant to look after him while I work—I could hire Lloyd!”

She looked at him with suspicion. “Lloyd as a nursemaid?”

He shrugged and studied the tapestry concealing the library door. “He’ll be wanting a position. Would he make a suitable tutor?”

“You’re staying?” she asked, still not quite trusting him.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted. “But it seems my responsibilities are growing greater than my itchy feet can carry. Bakari isn’t ready for school,” he admitted with a sigh. “I was twice his size at that age and could defend myself. And I had my Ives cousins to step up when the taunting became unmerciful. I have no