Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology #1) - Charlie N. Holmberg Page 0,34

“Yes, I think I know where they are—”

A knock sounded at the front door.

Setting down her chatelaine, Elsie hurried to the door and found herself face-to-face with the vicar.

“Mr. Harrison, how are you this morning?” Her pulse was beating too quickly for her short run.

The vicar removed his hat. “Quite well, quite well. Thank you. I’ve come to officially commission that tile work. Mr. Ogden and I discussed it some time ago—March, perhaps. For the church.”

He emphasized for the church as though doing so would earn him a discount.

He continued, “Is Mr. Ogden available?”

But Ogden had already vacated the area. Somewhere down the hall, something—many somethings from the sound of it—clattered to the floor. Elsie’s best guess was that Emmeline had knocked something over in the space beneath the stairs.

“He is, unfortunately, preoccupied.” Elsie smiled, falling into the persona of the helpful secretary. She retrieved a ledger from beneath the narrow counter separating herself from the vicar and opened it to the first blank page, glancing once at the clock. Mr. Kelsey would no doubt comment on her tardiness, but he couldn’t keep her under his thumb forever . . . Could he? “Why don’t you tell me about your request, and anything specific you discussed with Mr. Ogden?” She thought she recalled Ogden mentioning a mosaic of sorts for the chapel but didn’t remember any details.

The vicar fumbled through his pockets for a folded piece of paper, opened it, and handed it over. On it was a simple design sketched in pieces. Elsie could not really describe it other than to think it looked very “Ogden.” Dark tiles made a design against white ones, giving an illusion of two almost-circles, one inside the other. There was something familiar about it that she could not put her finger on. It made her fingers itch to touch it.

The vicar proceeded to ramble about his discussions with Ogden. Elsie’s pencil stayed poised to record the relevant information, and she scrawled down numbers in the far-right column, occasionally prying for more information.

“Blue and white,” she repeated.

“Peacock blue. A muted peacock blue, that is. I don’t wish to distract from worship.”

Elsie wrote muted and underlined it. “We’ll be in touch about the timing and cost.”

“We did discuss a budget,” the vicar continued.

“Mr. Ogden has an impeccable memory, I assure you.” The door opened again, and a flash of blond hair caught Elsie’s eye. She glanced up at Abel Nash, but he merely scoured the room once, offered a cheery nod, and departed again, ignoring the deliveries she’d prepared. That addle pate. Did he expect her to hand them to him?

Elsie sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison.”

The vicar left, and Elsie found both Emmeline and Ogden, the latter cursing up a storm, in the hallway, surrounded by an array of boxes and knickknacks pulled from the cupboard below the stairs.

“Are they not in the kitchen?” she asked, and was ignored. “The vicar came by about a mosaic at the chapel. And Nash was here.”

Ogden cursed again. “Is he waiting?”

“The vicar or Nash?”

“Nash, damn it.”

“Mr. Ogden.” Emmeline looked uncomfortable, though Elsie didn’t think it was due to the wording of his reprimand.

“No,” Elsie answered. “He left.”

“Of course he did.”

Elsie looked over the mess. “Might your granite tools be misplaced in the studio?”

Ogden paused in his rifling, shoulders drooping. “Do check, Elsie.”

She nodded and returned the way she had come, setting the ledger back on its shelf before rummaging for the tools. She’d searched three-quarters of the studio when Ogden shouted, “Eureka!” from the hallway. He stumbled into the studio a moment later, a heavy leather bag in hand. Elsie would bet a shilling the bag had been in the kitchen the whole time.

“I have details for those chapel tiles in the binder.” He wiped his forehead. “I need you to go to the quarryman and request the stone.”

Elsie swallowed but nodded. That would take her another two hours, most likely. Perhaps Mr. Kelsey wouldn’t detain her long, and she could do it on the way back? But she’d received no telegram regarding the duke’s invitation to dinner, which likely meant she was obligated to go. Maybe she could go to the quarryman’s home after hours and make her apologies.

“Of course,” she managed.

Ogden relaxed. “Thank you. I’ll be back.” He tromped through the studio and out the front door, leaving it ajar in his wake. Elsie shut it. She’d never make it to Kent in decent time. Would Mr. Kelsey hold it against her? But she’d told him