“I hope you do. And I’ll do my best.” She thought that was as good an answer as she was going to get, and so she went out the door, making sure to close it properly behind her. It wasn’t as if she could see through the curtains, but she looked back once, as she got to the alley to the street.
Chapter19
MARCH 22ND
Griffin heard the knock on the door from the sofa at about three in the afternoon. No position he’d tried was quite working, but he also didn’t want to move. The knock was almost certainly Charlus, unless someone had picked up his particular pattern. Griffin was glad he’d packed a pair of loose trousers. With that and smoking jacket and a collarless shirt, he was presentable enough if it wasn’t Charlus. “Come in.”
The door opened carefully, and then Charlus peered around the door before coming all the way in. “Sir.” He had a basket in his hand. “Need me to fetch anything right off?”
Griffin shook his head. “Not at the moment. Come in, put the kettle on, sit.” Charlus took the hint, and set the basket on the low table by the sofa. First he shrugged out of his coat and hung up his hat, then put the kettle on to boil. That was a particular need met, at least. Griffin had been wanting tea for an hour, and hadn’t quite managed to motivate himself to make it happen. And unlike his office or his own kitchen at home, the kettle wasn’t handy unless he was standing.
From there, Charlus came over and began unpacking the basket he’d brought. “Morning and evening papers. Your mail. Captain Orland insisted I bring these along to you with her compliments.” He set a small cardboard box down. “And a number of notes to discuss. There are also several meals from your housekeeper, from your kitchen.”
“Ah, bless.” That was a fairly comprehensive haul. “If you’d put the meals in the keep-cold box, please.” He hesitated, then added, trusting that it wouldn’t foul things, “And if you’d do me a favour and bring the potion case from my bedside table. The one that’s carved wood, long and narrow, has the paler wood inlay on it.”
Charlus raised an eyebrow at it. But he didn’t say anything until he’d done those things, going last into Griffin’s bedroom at the end of the hall and bringing it back, setting it where Griffin could reach it.
He ought to sit up properly, but having his legs up felt better, and changing anything seemed like a bad idea. Instead, he twisted - gently, he’d been reminded of what the alternative felt like that morning - and opened the case. It was also of Seth’s making, beautifully designed both to securely hold a selection of potion vials and have space for three pill cases.
There was one for morning, one for night, and the third for when he needed something specific. He considered, drawing out the next to last of the vials - the others were stoppered and empty - and then drained it quickly, before he took out two of the pills. “If you’d put it back, when you get a moment, please?” He slipped the empty stoppered vial into place and closed the lid.
Charlus still didn’t comment, but Griffin had been deliberately obvious about it, making a benefit out of the fact he couldn’t bring himself to move. Hopefully, the potion would ease a bit of the aching, and the pill would manage some of the tension of overwork that was running through his forearms still. The routine daily ones were to help keep some of the symptoms easier to manage, sorted out through some trial and error and now made up by his apothecary to be easiest to take and have handy wherever he was.
The kettle was making the little hopeful noise it made before it started singing properly. Charlus had heard it, too. He went to stand and wait there while it fully came to a boil, setting up the teapot and mugs on a tray. Griffin leaned over and pulled the box from Antimony over with one finger, then nudged it open. “Ah, bliss. You have to try these. They’re from one of my favourite bakeries, and Antimony knows it.”
“Sir?” Charlus paused for a moment, as the kettle sang properly, and he poured boiling water into the teapot, then brought the whole thing over.
“Welsh cakes. Not quite like Mum makes, but handier, and they do a range of flavours. Not at all traditional, but there’s a combination of spices and some orange peel.” He didn’t bother giving the Welsh, Charlus wouldn’t know it. “And oh, she put in a couple of currant, that’s the most traditional.” Then he looked up. “What brought that on, that she sent them along?”
Charlus snorted quietly, pulling up the other easy chair to the other side of the table. “I might have looked a trifle worried this morning. She caught me checking things in your office and told me to wait until she came back.” Then he cleared his throat. “I would like to calibrate my worry, please.”
“Did she ask you to let her know when you had more information, then?” Charlus flushed, and Griffin lifted his hand. “I’m not upset with you. Or her. Give me a minute, though. Well. A minute and a bit of cake.”
The cake was, actually, quite restorative, more than he’d expected. Something about the sweet and the tart and the spice hit exactly the right spot. He took his time eating it, licking the last of the caster sugar that had dusted it off his index finger. Charlus was eating his own, his eyes widening. “Told you,” Griffin said. “I’ll give you the address. It’s a bit out of my usual route.”
“Sir.” That was approving. “Glad to go fetch more for you, then, as relevant. And for me.”
Griffin chuckled. “Another proper convert. Antimony will be pleased.” He shifted a bit to adjust how he was leaning against the arm of the sofa. “To answer your worries, I’ll be back to normal in a day or maybe three. Not good for much - magically or otherwise - today, but people are always telling me I ought to take a day off, and I didn’t on Saturday or Sunday.”
Charlus looked unconvinced. And to be entirely fair, Griffin had sliced the truth on that set of comments a little fine for his own liking. He took a breath, then added. “Right now, a lot of me aches or is otherwise complaining, but it’s not a sign of new harm or anything. I overdid it yesterday. I should apparently not have trusted our landlady’s nephew to be reliable as a carter in both directions.”
“You were thinking of going up to the Abbey, sir.” Charlus blinked, his eyes widening. “What happened?”
“The man got me there quickly enough, but he didn’t come back. Eventually, when that was clear, I made my way down the steps. I was sitting on one of them, maybe a third of the way down, not quite half, when Annice came up in the other direction. She was going to leave flowers in the cemetery.”
Charlus considered that, falling silent for several minutes. “You didn’t write to me.”
“I didn’t. I thought about it while I was sitting there. But I knew you’d be busy, and so would the other people I might write. And I was working myself up to keep going. Annice talked with me a little and then walked down with me. And went out and got fish and chips. There’s a place she favours with good reason. Comparative to the cakes, here, in its own class.”
“Huh.” Charlus coughed. “You let her help, sir?”
Ah, that was the rub of it. He’d only recently told Charlus much of that, of course, and here he was, letting Annice help on a week’s acquaintanceship. Three conversations, and while three might be a number of power and magic, that was not many at all when it came to knowing someone. It ought to be seven, at least, really. More than that. Griffin was about to say something. Then he felt that fleeting tug of where the truth lay. “I don’t understand her, but I trust her. Odd, I know. I do also trust you, but you weren’t here. And you should have time with your family.”
And it was easier to trust Annice, in some ways. He didn’t have obligations to Annice, ongoing professional connections, beyond the project of the moment. It made it easier to be vulnerable than with Charlus, with all the ties of apprenticeship. And decades in the future of professional collaboration, too.
Charlus considered. “May I ask a personal question, please?”
There were a number that might come from this conversation. “Go ahead and ask. I might not answer, but you’ve earned a fair number of answers now.”
