Childermass 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 with heavy magic as though he'd drank too much ale.
"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. Lucas had been eating his midday meal at the long table in front of the fire. With one look from from Childermass, the young footman grabbed what remained of his meat pie and silently exited from the room. Childermass sat her in a chair by the fire and stoked the flames. Water was in the kettle so 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?"
Childermass did not reply but wrapped her frigid hands around the cup. He 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 hazel 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. Childermass loosed her, letting a hand rest briefly on her shoulder if only to reassure himself that she was well. He sank into the chair next to her, relieved to find his dizziness was fading.
"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?" Childermass 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 slender 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. I was rarely allowed in though I never had much interest in his work. Whatever work it was that he did. Mr. Norrell was the first to tell me today that his many books were on English magic." She shook her head sadly and stared down into the cup. "Such a pointless pursuit."
Childermass 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 Norrell. You seem..."
"To originate from a base upbringing?" He smirked, expecting her to have the same thoughts as the rest of her class about his rough appearance.
She shook her head. "No, too well grounded. Capable. Not like Norrell or my father for that matter. You're the kind of man with a mind of his own and the will to execute it. You wouldn't be caught up in the childish fairy tales of the dark ages. Or are you?"
Childermass lifted his eyebrows in mild surprise and took her in with new eyes. She was more perceptive than she had let on. Perhaps she wasn't the primping, empty headed heiress 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, Childermass. It is a comfort to have someone to talk to here. May I ask, might we shake hands in friendship?"
Her request caught him off guard. A unmarried, young woman of the upper class asking for friendship from someone of his station, it wasn't heard of. 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.
Childermass cleared his throat and retreated a step. "You should return to your room to rest before supper. I'll see that Mr. Norrell joins you this evening for dinner. He owes you that much at least."
After leaving Miss Savage in her sitting room, Childermass returned to the library. Norrell was bent over one of his newly acquired books, his lips moving silently as he read. Childermass came to stand in front of him where he sat in his chair.
"Where were you? That took a little overlong." Norrell spoke without tearing his eyes from the page.
"What do you know of Mr. Edward Savage's dealings with faerie?"
Norrell peered up at him and took the spectacles from his beady eyes. "What do you know?"