Harp's Manor

INSTALLMENT XIV

June 9, 1928

Mr. Leigh has finally returned from his journey with the Doppelgangers. We greeted him heartily upon his arrival, his addition to the company much welcome. He misses the musical group already, I can sense it. I miss them too, though I was never particularly well acquainted with them.

Mr. Marsh, however, remains missing. What a pity! If only he had been there to save me from that walk on Friday with Mr. Weaver. I knew I regretted going the moment we set out.

"Ah! There you are, Miss Thornton. You're a little later than I expected. It made me worry you may not come at all!" Mr. Weaver said as I approached him. He was waiting in the parlor, the area I seemed to run into him the most. Already he was on his feet, and appeared to have been in such a position for some time, anxiously leaning his weight from one leg to the other.

I smiled weakly, already wishing that I had been less unchecked in my manner after apprehending Mrs. Maxwell. I have nothing against Mr. Weaver, except that he can be rather insensitive, and was oddly rude to me on that one occasion. "You expect so little from me, Mr. Weaver," I replied. "Don't fret; I manage to keep my appointments, generally."

"Shall we walk, then?"

I followed him out. I was expecting him to turn right and exit through the east doors, but he surprised me by turning left, passing through the foyer, and turning right. We were now approaching the library. "Where are you taking me, Mr. Weaver?" I asked with great interest.

"It's a little surprise," he replied.

We passed the library and exited through the east doors. "I've been all over the grounds," I told him. "I don't mean to disappoint you, but I doubt what you are about to show me can possibly come as a surprise to myself."

"I bet you are wrong," he challenged. "In the meantime, let us talk about ourselves a little. What have you occupied your time with during your stay here?"

"Well, I suppose I've been writing, mostly," I said.

"That's fascinating. I suppose I should've guessed as much, seeing as you are a writer and all. Ha! It must be very boring, being cooped up in that room of yours?"

"Not particularly. I find enjoyment in what I do."

"Of course, of course. Otherwise, you wouldn't do it, I bet. Anything other than that?"

"I mean, I've worked with Miss Pearce on a papier-mâché glove-box, if that's what you mean. Writing is, unfortunately enough, quite time consuming, you'll find."

"Ah! Miss Pearce. Yes, I worked with her on making a textile to wrap around a statue or something. I don't really remember what it was for all that well, just that I was surprised she knew how to make fabric. I thought she was a sculptor, you know."

"She is," I said. "I just suppose she has many other talents besides. So, Mr. Weaver, what have you been up to?"

"An incredible amount," he said. "You already know about the pier- Gordon's Pier, soon to be Weaver's Pier, with luck. My luck seems to have run dry at the moment, though, so who knows if it will actually happen. That blasted mule is purposely slow on his responses, I'm telling you. If it were anyone else, that pier would be in my hands already. As it is, we're still waiting on hearing his verdict about the necessary safety precautions that must be installed by the purchasers. Knowing that bastard, he'll make it upwards a million dollars."

"A million dollars!"

"Yes; it's not really all that much, in the grand scheme of things, but it is rather inconvenient."