The Savage Inheritance

A Handshake

Enoch Ramsey guided her by the elbow as gently as possible, but his heart raced as he led them down towards the kitchens. Mercy Savage did not resist. He glanced over his shoulder and found her expression not of alarm, but like that of a sleep walker. His head swirled as though he'd drank too much ale. The air was heady with the supernatural.

"Miss Savage!" he said sharply.

She rubbed the heel of her hand into one of her eyes. "Where are you taking me?"

They entered the kitchens. Eli had been eating his midday meal at the long table in front of the fire. With one look from from Ramsey, the young footman grabbed what remained of his food and silently exited from the room. Ramsey sat her in a chair by the fire and stoked the flames. Water was in the kettle. Hastily, he brewed her a cup of tea.

She stared numbly into the sandstone hearth. "Why are we here? I thought you'd brought me back to my rooms?"

He wrapped her frigid hands around the cup then held his hands over hers a moment longer than necessary. The physical touch brought her back to her senses and her eyes cleared. She peered up at him, her lips parting in confusion.

"What are we doing here? How did we get here?" she breathed. Her eyes widened in horror. "Am I going mad?"

"Drink," he coaxed, helping her lift the cup.

After taking a drink, she inhaled the aromatic steam and relaxed. Ramsey loosed her, resting a hand rest on her shoulder if only to reassure himself that they were both well. He sank into the chair next to her, relieved to find his dizziness was fading. He had not experienced such a thing since his childhood.

"I am sorry, I do not know what came over me," she murmured. Her brow creased. "Did I already say that?"

"Pray, Miss Savage, may I ask you a couple questions?" Ramsey leaned forward and perched his arms on his thighs. "What can you tell me about your father? Particularly his death?"

She set down the cup, her hand trembling. "It was an accident. The inquest found it so."

"What did you tell them about it? Do you remember anything... strange?"

Her eyes lit with recollection. "Odd that you ask that. Something did happen that I didn't remember until much later. I regretted not telling the authorities."

"Did you see something?"

"No, I heard something." She pulled her maroon shawl over her shoulders. "I was passing my father's library and something strange happened. My candle almost blew out, but there was no breeze, it was just... the darkness. It closed in so tight I thought it would snuff the light completely. The house moaned the way it did when the storms came off the sea in the autumn. Then there were voices coming from the library. It was my father-"

"And who else?"

Mercy squinted as she struggled to remember. "No... no, that cannot be. He was alone, he was always alone when he was in his study. He did business in the front room. His library was for his studies. I was rarely allowed in though I never had much interest in his learning. Mister Bawden was the first to tell me today that his many books were on those silly matters, curses and ghosts and such." She shook her head sadly and stared down into the cup. "Such a pointless pursuit."

Ramsey sat up and rested an arm on the table. "Perhaps not entirely pointless, Miss Savage."

She looked up at him. "Surely you are not of that same mind as Bawden. You seem..."

"To originate from a base upbringing?" He smirked sharply, expecting her to have the same prejudices the rest of her class and race about his appearance.

She shook her head. "Well grounded. Not like Bawden or my father for that matter. You are a man with a mind of his own and the will to execute it. You wouldn't be caught up in the childish fairy tales... Or are you?"

Ramsey lifted his eyebrows in mild surprise. Perhaps she wasn't the primping, empty headed heiress that she appeared to be. 

"I will show you back to your rooms now. You had little fainting spell, but it has passed."

She rose to her feet and he followed suit. "Thank you for your concern, Mister Ramsey. It is a comfort to have someone to talk to in this odd house. May I ask... might I shake your hand in friendship?"

Her request caught him off guard. A unmarried, young woman of the upper class asking for friendship from someone of his skin color and station wasn't a commonality. He gave an uncomfortable grimace of a smile before taking her hand in his own. Neither of them looked each other in the eye, but stared at their joined hands. Oddly, he found himself reluctant to let go and she made no move on her part.

Ramsey cleared his throat and retreated a step. "You should return to your room to rest before supper. I'll see that Mister Bawden joins you this evening for dinner. He owes you that much at least."

After leaving Miss Savage in her sitting room, Ramsey returned to the library. Bawden was bent over one of his newly acquired books, his lips moving silently as he read. Ramsey came to stand in front of him where he sat in his chair.

"Where were you? That took a little overlong," Bawden spoke without tearing his eyes from the page.

"What do you know of Mister Edward Savage's death?"

Bawden peered up at him and took the spectacles from his bulbous eyes. "What do you know?"