The Binding. Bridget Collins

then shrugged. He took a step towards me, the way he’d done before, with an absentminded determination that meant I had to move out of his way. Ferguson followed him, and I was alone with Seredith.

      ‘I’m sorry. I was worried.’

      She didn’t seem to hear me. She had her eyes closed, and the broken veins in her cheeks stood out like red ink. But she knew I was there, because after a minute she flapped at me, dismissing me without a word.

      I went out into the passage. The lamplight spilt up the stairs and through the banisters, edging everything in faint gold. I could hear them talking in the hall. I walked to the top of the stairs and paused, listening. Their voices were very distinct.

      ‘… stubborn old woman,’ de Havilland said. ‘Really, I apologise. From what the postman said, I was under the impression that she had asked—’

      ‘Not at all, not at all. In any case, I think I saw enough. She’s frail, of course, but not in any real danger unless her condition gets worse suddenly.’ He crossed the hall and I guessed that he was picking up his hat. ‘Have you decided what you’ll do?’

      ‘I shall stay here and keep an eye on her. Until she gets better, or—’

      ‘A pity she’s all the way out here. Otherwise I would be very happy to attend her.’

      ‘Indeed,’ de Havilland said, and snorted. ‘She’s a living anachronism. One would think we were in the Dark Ages. If she must carry on with binding, she could perfectly well work from my own bindery, in comfort. The number of times I’ve tried to persuade her … But she insists on staying here. And now she’s taken on that damned apprentice …’

      ‘She does seem somewhat … obstinate.’

      ‘She’s infuriating.’ He hissed a sigh through his teeth. ‘Well, I suppose I must endure this for a while and try to make her see sense.’

      ‘Good luck. Oh—’ There was the sound of a clasp being undone, and a clink. ‘If she’s in pain, or sleepless, a few drops of this should help. Not more.’

      ‘Ah. Yes. Good night, then.’ The door opened and shut, and outside there was the creak and rumble of the trap drawing away. At the same time there were footsteps as de Havilland climbed the stairs. When he saw me he raised the lamp and peered at me. ‘Eavesdropping, were you?’ But he didn’t give me time to answer. He brushed past me and added, over his shoulder, ‘Bring me some clean bedding.’

      I followed him. He opened the door of my bedroom and paused, quirking his head at me. ‘Yes?’

      I said, ‘That’s my room – where’m I supposed to—’

      ‘I have no idea.’ Then he shut the door in my face and left me in darkness.