The Librarian's Spell by Patricia Rice (reading eggs books TXT) 📕

trunks in the tower along with his son. She hadn’t told his mother that.

Did the lady know about Lydia’s inability to find books? That was definitely a black cloud.

Laddie threw their hat boxes and satchels into the back of the cart. Holding her new parasol, Lydia settled on the seat beside Lady Agnes and leaned over Laddie’s shoulder. “Do you know if Mr. Ives has returned yet?”

“There’s a new mare in the stable,” Laddie said. “Reckon someone rode it there.”

Lydia sat back in relief. She would have hated raising Lady Agnes’s hopes and dragging her up the mountain for nothing.

They arrived at the castle a little after noon. They’d seen no sign of Max fleeing down the narrow path, so surely he was still inside. Somewhere.

Once they arrived at the castle, Lady Agnes wanted to sit in the parlor until Max made an appearance. Lydia persuaded her to take tea in her room and rest a bit until he was located. She had Beryl lead their guest to one of the newly-cleaned chambers in the main block. She traipsed off to the tower’s downstairs guest room, the one she had chosen for hers while Max was in residence. Musical bedchambers did not bother her so much as wishing she knew she deserved these privileges.

She’d ordered some new day dresses, but they would have to be delivered later. For traveling, she’d worn her old black wool. Studying the aging mirror in her new room, she decided she didn’t look any different after this past week of turmoil. Her hair still escaped its pins. She brushed it down and pinned it again. To drape over her boring bodice, she’d bought a pretty gold scarf that looked well with her hair so she didn’t look quite so matronly. But there was little else she could do to improve her appearance.

And she shouldn’t be trying. The annoying man had made it quite clear that he didn’t appreciate her looking after him.

She took the stone stairs up to Mr. C’s chamber and rapped on the door. Lloyd answered it. She could read the expectant question on his dour features, but he’d never ask.

She hated lying, so she prevaricated, only slightly. “I am officially in charge, as Mr. C wished.”

Lloyd appeared to release a sigh of relief. Before he could say more, she asked, “Is Mr. Ives in? He has a visitor.”

Bakari waved cheerfully from the floor where he appeared to be working on a sketch of. . . the universe? “Hello, Miss Lydia. Papa says he’ll teach me to ride!”

“An excellent notion, I’m sure, sir.” Lydia waited for Lloyd to answer.

“He’s down in the dungeon,” Lloyd explained. “Said something about wells and plumbing, but I didn’t grasp it all.”

“I don’t suppose Zach would know how to find him?” Lydia tried to remember if the footman had ever stirred himself to so much as descend to the wine cellar.

“He’s got a voice and feet,” Lloyd said. “Tell him to employ them.”

Well, yes, that firmly put her in her place. If she must play the part of Malcolm Librarian, she must act as ruler of all she surveyed. Librarians ordered servants, not questioned them. Interesting lessons and challenges loomed.

Knowing Max was on the premises helped. He hadn’t completely run away. He’d just rejected her and a school full of giggling girls. She couldn’t blame him too much for that.

Downstairs in her study, she rang the bell for Mr. Folkston. A butler was supposed to command the household when there was no steward.

Mr. Folkston was a portly man in his fifties, not much taller than Lydia. His black suit and starched white shirt were impeccable but showing signs of wear. Recalling with satisfaction the legal documents Keya had sent around last night, Lydia felt the day improve incrementally. She had a bank letter and a larger allowance than before.

“If you would, send Zach into the tower cellar to fetch Mr. Ives. But before you do that, I’d like to assure you that I am now in control of the castle funds.” Lydia watched the butler relax ever so imperceptibly, although all he did was bend slightly in acknowledgment. “I will pay everyone on first of September as always. I shall give them a full quarterly wage and a little extra for their loyalty. I hope to raise that wage by ten percent, if you will explain that to them for me, please.”

She had told Keya that raising the household funds was absolutely necessary. At some point, she hoped to have some idea of the entirety of the trust, but knowing the castle’s allowance had been increased was enough for now.

Mr. Folkston broke his reserve sufficiently to exhibit a brief smile. “The staff will be more than pleased to hear that, miss, thank you.”

“They’ve earned every penny. Once I have a better understanding of our funds, I’ll attempt to set aside enough to cover any more emergencies so this doesn’t happen again. I still have a year’s worth of repairs and maintenance to catch up, but I’ve been given the wherewithal to buy new uniforms and shoes for all. If you’ll have Mrs. Folkston handle that, I’d appreciate it.”

The butler bowed again, this time looking grateful. “Do we use our local merchants?”

“I’d prefer that. If you think the fabric quality is inferior, you might suggest that we are able to pay a little more and ask them to order what they need from the city. I trust your judgment.” And she trusted the Calder merchants not to cheat their best customer.

After Folkston departed on his tasks, Lydia stared at the correspondence gathering on the desk—her desk now, not Mr. C’s. The weight of responsibility—and her fraud—weighed heavily on her shoulders.

It was a good thing she had wide shoulders.

Even wide shoulders couldn’t stop a tower from toppling—taking the library with it. She had to find a way to make Max stay.

Fifteen

Wiping sweat from his face with his filthy hands, Max traipsed from the depths of the tower cellar, following the shouts