It had been a painless process. In fact, after witnessing the wonder of Mr. Norrell's basin, Mercy was somewhat disappointed at how mundane the magic was that Mr. Norrell performed on her. He stood before her, a book cracked open in one hand and the other waving in slow circles around her face while he murmured nonsensically. And then it was over, no sparks or dizzying colors flashing before her eyes. Afterwards, he had situated her at a desk in the back of the room where Childermass had been working the previous day. Childermass dropped a stack of books next to her with a pot of ink and a few pieces of scratch paper.

"If you truly wish to understand the magic your are under, you should begin with the foundations of the study," Norrell explained. "This particular book is a very informative piece of work, start with it."

Mercy winced as she read the title. It was a biographical work documenting the life of a lesser magician who was the brother of a greater one. She had been educated but never claimed to be a great pupil. In truth, Mercy was not fond of reading, not when there was a game of cards to be played or a walk to be taken but she didn't argue. This was her only chance to understand the surprising legacy her father had left her.

After a half an hour of slogging through the tedious work, Mercy leaned her cheek on the heel of her hand. With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair and let her eyes wander. The shelf next to her was filled with her father's books that needed to be rebound. A slim volume was propped up at the bottom, the cover a shade of rusty oxblood. Mercy arched a brow in interest. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure that the men were sufficiently distracted, she snatched the book from the shelf. It had a simple title, Summoning and Binding. She began to read.

It was about Faerie and the beings that inhabited those lands. The initial chapters were about human interactions with fairies, how magicians of the past had harnessed those creatures dwelling in the other world and used them for their own purposes. And yet, despite how fantastic it all seemed, there was always a price to dealing with a fairy and a heavy one. The final chapters were about the proper etiquette in dealing with the beings and how to cut deals that benefited the mortal.

"That is not the book you were given to read," a voice growled low behind her. Mercy whipped around to find Childermass standing over her with his typical glowering expression. He lowered his heavy brows as he studied the open book on her desk. "Is that one of your father's books? I do not recognize it."

"I believe so," Mercy replied in a whisper with a wary glance towards the hearth where Mr. Norrell sat immersed his work. "The other book was... dull."

Childermass's expression did not change as he stared down at her. With a sigh, he leaned over and gently took Summoning and Binding. He flipped through the pages and paused to read one, while Mercy fiddled with her fine pen. Childermass glanced up at her, his mouth twisting in thought and a strand of hair falling over his right eye.

"I believe it would be wise for you to continue in the work you were given," he said, pocketing the book.

Mercy sat up in her seat. "But what you said about fairy magic being the cause of my enchantment, might that book have something to do with it?"

"There are many books in this library about fairies, Miss Savage. But I promise, I shall delve deeper into this one. It sparks my interest as well." He patted the back of her chair, his leathery fingertips grazing the fine lace of her chemisette at her shoulder, before returning to Norrell.

Biting her lower lip, Mercy smirked as she glanced towards the shelf of books next to her once more. She grabbed another and read it in her lap. It proved to be much more interesting as well about the Raven King's secret written language that had never been deciphered in the moral realm.

Mr. Norrell had their midday meal brought to them in the library and insisted Mercy study while she ate.

"How are you enjoying Tott's works?" Norrell had asked, his eyes narrowing as he inspected her desk.

Mercy had been sketching a series of wolf figures along the edge of her paper. They chased ink blots and a crude figure of a deer around her sparse notes. She quickly hit it under the book. "Quite...diverting."

"Tott is not to be found diverting, Miss Savage."

"Oh no, that was the wrong choice of words," she apologized, wetting her lips. "I meant informative."

Norrell nodded vaguely, turning once more to the papers in his own hands. Mercy glanced behind him. Childermass was leaning against a large step ladder, engrossed in another book. He looked up from a page of Summoning and Binding and met her eyes. Mercy turned away from his dark, thoughtful gaze.

"You may be excused for the day, Miss Savage," Mr. Norrell said reaching out for the dull biography. She flushed as he noted how little progress she had made in it. "I expect more dedication from you come tomorrow. I cannot stress to you the seriousness of your condition."

"Thank you, Mr. Norrell. I promise to apply myself better tomorrow," she replied as she stood, her legs stiff from sitting for so long.

When she returned to her room, Sarah was cheerfully laying out a nice tea for her with scones and lemon cake. Mercy stifled a grin as she sat down by the fire. "Thank you, Sarah. Tell me, how are you adjusting to the abbey?"

"Very well, Miss. Though it is a haunting old place," Sarah answered as she built up the fire.

Mercy poured herself a cup of tea. "And the other servants... have they been welcoming?"

Sarah paused but did not turn around. "They are country people to be sure but very kind."

"The young footman Lucas is a nice young man," Mercy added subtly.

Standing, Sarah wrung her hands in front of her, her mouth twisting between delight and concern. "What have you... I mean, has anyone-"

"The news about your liaison with him came to me quite by accident, but it would be in your best interest to keep your trysts secret as possible in the future," Mercy said before sipping her tea. "I do not mind, of course, but my guardian may take offense."

"Yes, Miss." Sarah bobbed a curtsy. "I am sorry if I embarrassed you. My mother always said I was born with too much of the devil in me. But Lucas with that Yorkshire accent, like out of a novel by Mrs. Radcliffe, and his wild, dark eyes, it was almost too much-"

"Yes, of course." Mercy cut her off with a nervous laugh. "Yes, you don't need to explain, Sarah. I understand you."

Perhaps she understood her maid's weakness a little too well. She recalled the feel of Childermass's hands as they wrapped around hers and held the cup of tea to her mouth, how one moment he could have all his attention on her then the next act as though she wasn't in the room at all. Mercy fought the impulse to slap her own cheek to bring herself back to her senses. He was a servant, rough and well below her station. And someone she had only just met. Why did she feel so drawn to John Childermass?

"Miss?"

Mercy blinked up at Sarah. "I'm sorry, you may go, Sarah. Thank you."

Norrell shook his head as he scanned Miss Savage's messy notes. He scattered them on the table before the hearth. Childermass was leaning against the mantle, staring into the flames. The wind whipped through the trees, the ancient oaks groaning as they swayed in the blustery night.

"She is as quixotic as her mother," Norrell sank into one of the chairs. "Mary never could sit for long at her studies. I had hoped the young lady would have inherited something from Edward, but perhaps feminine weakness is to blame. A shame that she had not been a boy, I should have liked to take a son of Edward for a pupil. Help bring him to better things than his father."

Childermass wandered over to the table and ran his fingers over her papers, his touch pausing at the drawing of the hunting wolves and wounded stag. The book in his pocket felt heavier. He retrieved it and flipped through the pages. Something fell out of the back and whispered to the floor.

"What do you have there?" Norrell leaned over and picked the small oval slip from the threadbare rug. He jaw slackened as he studied it.

"What is it?"

Norrell shook his head and tried to tuck it into his pocket but Childermass moved to the arm of his chair. It was a miniature painting of a beautiful girl with light brown curls and gray eyes.

"Who-"

Norrell cleared his throat. "It is Mercy's mother. This was my own, Mary had one done for me before I left for school. I sent it back to her and Edward when they announced their plans."

"To be married?"

"Of course to be married," Norrell snapped.

"She was very beautiful."

"Miss Savage takes after her a little but she has her father's fox-like countenance, those greenish eyes and smirking mouth. She's quite a vexing girl is Miss Savage." Norrell groused miserably. "Where did this come from?"

Childermass revealed Summoning and Binding. "It was among the collection from Edward Savage's library."

"But it is not Edward's book. It was the one and only book I imparted to him but he never returned it." Norrell's voice became very small. Childermass held it out to Norrell but the man only frowned into the fire. "It was nothing of consequence. Just return it to the shelf where you found it. I wish for a pot of chocolate, I feel a chill coming on."

Childermass nodded and left his side. However, he tucked the book into his pocket where the sheet with Mercy's drawing was hidden as well.

The next afternoon was drearier than the last with a persistent rain pelting the library windows. Thankfully, though a hermit set in his solitary ways among his books, Mr. Norrell was not above taking pleasure in small ways. After fighting to stay awake through her studies on the most uneventful existence of Horace Tott, a magician who led a long life never achieving what he set out to do, Mr. Norrell had called on Lucas for a frothing pot of chocolate and a plate of iced rout cakes. This revived her somewhat but did not completely take away the painful trudge of Tott's sad little life.

Childermass was absent. She had fought the impulse to ask after him, distracted as she was from her tedious reading. Finally, after an hour of silence, Norrell mentioned in passing that Childermass would be back later that evening. He had set him out on a errand to York to retrieve a few more books that he had heard tell of that might help them decipher the mystery surrounding Mercy.

"He rode through this weather?" Mercy sipped her cup of chocolate, batting her eyes innocently towards the fire and attempting to keep her tone detached.

"Childermass is quite capable of performing his duties under any circumstance."

"Will he not catch cold?"

Norrell smirked down at his book. "I should think not. I do not know much of my servant's previous life but I can guarantee he has survived much harsher elements than a little English rain."

Mercy pressed her lips together to keep from asking more questions. She feared Norrell would grow suspicious of her interest and inquire of it. She didn't quite understand her interest in the man, only that the library seemed even more dismal without him in it.

To her chagrin, Mr. Norrell insisted that she take the book to her rooms to study later that evening. She tried to decline, saying that she didn't dare risk the text outside the library where anything could happen to it. Mr. Norrell had hesitated and for a moment she though she was relieved of the obligation but he quickly said he trusted her as long as it didn't leave the abbey.

Mercy tapped her fingers on the cover while Sarah brushed out and braided her curls before bed. Her bedchamber was lit by a single candle and the popping hearth, shadows trembling off the four poster bed and thick, night blue curtains around it.

"Is it really that dull? I shouldn't think a book of magic would be as horrid as you describe," Sarah said as she tied off Mercy's braid with a blood red, satin ribbon.

Mercy rose from the vanity chair, holding the book at her hip. "It is possibly the worst thing I have ever read."

Sarah scoffed as she helped remove Mercy's dressing gown, the folds of her nightgown bunched up around her knees as she got under the covers. Sarah slipped a pan filled with warm coals under the pallet to ward off the damp chill of the rainy night.

"I should like to read one of them for myself someday. I enjoy a good novel." Sarah sighed as she smoothed out the blankets.

"Then you would not enjoy this." Mercy flipped it open to the page marker. "Though not all of the books in the library are so dull. I believe Mr. Norrell hoards the ones with anything of interest for himself."

"I don't doubt it. The man appears to me both a hermit and a miser." Sarah laughed but pressed her lips together. "I apologize, that was too bold of me."

Mercy arched her eyebrows in amusement. "Perhaps but no less true."

Sarah left her mistress to her studies. Mercy mused quietly that the girl was probably off to meet Lucas in one of the back hallways for a midnight tryst. She sunk deep into her pillows and tried not to feel envious. She laughed silently at herself and set the book aside, her eyelids drooping. Closing the bed curtains, she slipped into a feather light sleep.

A deep tolling reverberated through the house, like that of a giant, ancient bell tower. It roused Mercy to consciousness. She pulled back the bed curtain, unsure if it had only been a dream. The fire had burned down to a cushion of embers. The door between her bedchamber and the sitting room was cracked open and an unearthly, silver glow emanated from behind it. Without reaching for a dressing coat, Mercy pulled her slippers onto her feet. The floorboards were like ice as she inched towards the door and opened it.