His coat steamed by the fireplace after being drenched in the rain all day but it warmed Mercy just the same. She tucked her chin under the frayed collar, the scent of pipe smoke lingering in the air. The clock on the mantle ticked off the hour. It was much too late for her to be in a man's room alone but she couldn't bring herself to leave. Terror filled her at the thought of what she'd find in her sitting room, whether she'd slip between the folds of the world into that strange, violent country and never return.

Whatever magic Norrell had performed on her not only helped her remember everything that had occurred but also unearthed every time in the past she had met with the oxblood prince. He had never mentioned his name, but spoke to her with such familiarity it made her cringe. It was as though he were a lifelong acquaintance of her father's who had watched her grow from a small child. She sunk deeper into the coat as she realized he'd done exactly that.

The door behind her creaked open and Mercy sat up. Childermass walked into the room carrying a small amber glass of Madeira. "Here, Miss Savage. Drink this."

Mercy obeyed. She did not even feign to sip it, she merely downed it in one gulp. "You prescribed something stronger than tea this time."

"It seemed appropriate considering the circumstances." The sleeves of the linen shirt under his waist coat were damp at the shoulders and neck.

"Did you only just return from York?"

He arched his eyebrows in surprise. "How did you know I was in York?"

"Mr. Norrell told me." Mercy looked down into her empty glass. "Perhaps you should have just brought the bottle with you."

Childermass cleared his throat. "That would not have looked well, serving you a whole bottle of Madeira in my quarters at this time of night."

Mercy surprised both of them with a genuine laugh. "No, I suppose not. Though Mr. Norrell knows of my whereabouts?"

"He knows you appeared in my room but not that you are still here."

Mercy recalled the look of horror on Norrell's face when he'd seen Sarah and Lucas together in his silver basin. She agreed silently that it was best her guardian did not know she remained there.

"Would you like me to escort you back-"

"No." Mercy shook her head emphatically. "No, thank you. Not yet."

Childermass said nothing but dragged the chair from the small writing desk beside where she sat. A small table stood between them, the deck of worn cards lying on it. Mercy set the empty glass down on the table and rubbed her hands together, her knee bouncing as she stared blankly into the fire.

"Mr. Norrell is in his study now, I told him what you said about the faerie kingdom and the prince's bargain with your father," Childermass said sitting down beside her. "Have you remembered anything else?"

"No, only what I told you. This is not the first time he and I have met, I'm sure of that now. Though I do not not know what calls him to my side in the first place."

"You do not call him. You cannot unless you knew the proper spells. He comes of his own accord."

"Why hasn't he taken me yet then? What's stopping him?"

Childermass ran his fingers of his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps the conditions of the bargain, something we do not know yet. But we know more now than we did yesterday."

Mercy peered across the room at the writing desk and saw another stack of books, larger than the one by his bed. "I have been curious, what is it you do exactly for Mr. Norrell?"

"This and that."

"Are you his pupil in magic as well as a servant?"

Childermass smirked. "No, but a magician like Mr. Norrell who does not like to leave the comfort of his library must have another means of operating his business in the wide world. I provide those means and he instructs me in a few spells to help me on my way."

"I conjecture you've picked up more than a few spells from the books in his library." Mercy shook her head. "I believe I would too and be able to help myself more if he would give me something other than Tott to read."

"We all must start somewhere, Miss Savage," Childermass replied meeting her eyes with a hint of a frown.

Mercy pursed her lips and looked away. "What are these you were playing with when I walked in? Do you like cards? I enjoy a game myself now and then."

Childermass reached out for the deck and shuffled them. "They are not like playing cards."

"What are they then?"

"Are you familiar with the cards of Marseilles?"

The Madeira now ran through her veins, muting the terror she had felt earlier. Mercy's knee stopped bouncing and she neatly folded her hands in her lap, shaking her head. "What are they for?"

He gave a secretive smirk and leaned forward towards the table. "For peering into the possible future."

Mercy shuddered. "Fortune telling? I'm not so certain I'd like to know my future."

"It may help, Miss Savage. Though I won't force you to it."

He tapped the edges of the cards on the table while she considered the offer. Something about his honesty made her trust him. Childermass was not the figure of dark intent as the oxblood prince had tried to convince her, he would not lead her awry. She nodded her acquiesce.

With steady fingers he layered eight cards before them. Mercy waited for him to wave his hands and murmur incantations like Norrell had but he was silent. Gently, he flipped the first row. The illustrations were hand drawn on odd scraps of paper, tavern bills and backs of book pages, depicting strange images, messy French text labeled them on the edges. Mercy had a difficult time translating them though she spoke French fluently.

"Well?" Mercy prompted after a moment, feeling impatient to hear his diagnosis.

Childermass brushed the first cards. "These say you have come from grief to a solitary existence."

"The hermit?" Mercy said reading one of them.

"Yes. Or perhaps it could reference Norrell."

"Yes that would be a fair description..."

He gave her a wry grin as they leaned forward over the table together, their knees almost brushing. "These foretell of a trickster, a confidence man of sorts in your present."

"And the devil card?"

"Symbolizes his ill intent."

"The fairy..." she murmured, though the description sounded very similar to what the oxblood prince had said of Childermass as well.

He flipped the first card on the final row. Two people intertwined, lovers it seemed, with a pair of goblets hovering over them. He cocked his head to the side as he considered it. "This represents another person in your life with whom you have an affinity with... a friend. A dear one."

Mercy swallowed. "So I am met by a hermit, a trickster and a friend following grief."

Childermass flipped the next two cards. He jutted out his jaw and his dark eyes narrowed. "There is an impending journey and separation in your future. You will be alone, very alone."

Mercy shivered and pulled his coat tighter about her as though by doing so it would keep him by her side a little longer. "That does not sound pleasant."

He didn't smile at her attempt at humor but flipped the last card. They both blinked down at it.

"I thought that the point of something like this was not to have multiples of the same card..." Mercy said.

Childermass mussed up the order of the cards, bringing the second card with the two cups to the center of the table. There were two cards with the lovers, the description reading two of cups in french on the bottom.

"But that can't be, I made the pack myself, there is only one of each..."

Stupefied by the turn of events, he shuffled the deck again and laid each one out. At the end of it, they found that the duplicate two of cups card was missing. It had disappeared as quickly as it had slipped into her fortune.

"What could it mean?" Mercy asked quietly.

Childermass shook his head as he glared down at the table. "I cannot say."

The clock on the mantle chimed out midnight and Mercy jumped. However, there was no sudden appearance from faerie, no candles flaring or winter gusts from unknown drafts. Childermass tucked the cards into his waistcoat pocket and rose to his feet.

"It would be best if I showed you back to your rooms, Miss Savage."

Mercy followed him to the door. He was right of course. There was no way she could spend the whole night in his room. Nothing would be more scandalous even if it was to keep her from being stolen to Untold-Blessings. Mercy suppressed a grin at the thought of Norrell's horror should he ever find out how long she'd actually remained alone with Childermass. In complete view of his bed. Wearing only her nightgown and the man's coat. It was like something out of a novel about fallen women.

Without her asking, Childermass opened the door to the sitting room and peered around it. She waited a few steps away, tentative of what he would find. He sighed and shrugged towards her. "A very common sitting room. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Mercy tentatively stepped into the room. "Would you mind...the other chamber?"

Childermass gravely nodded and did as she asked, Mercy followed him into the dark. He walked over to the hearth and struck a fire that gave the room an eerie light. Standing at the foot of the bed, Mercy removed his coat from her shoulders and held it out to him.

"Thank you for you everything, Childermass." She held out her hand to him silently.

He hesitated before taking it. A piece of wood popped behind them in the fireplace. In the silence, he drank her in like a man under an enchantment, such a change from his usual glare that it almost frightened her with it's intensity. Mercy found once again she was reluctant to leave his side.

"If anything should occur again..." she murmured taking a step forward and leaving little space between them.

"You should come to me at once," he replied in his rasping, low voice.

She lifted her face and nearly brushed his nose with her forehead. He took a sharp intake of breath that ignited her nerves down to her fingertips. Her head spun with his closeness, his presence more intoxicating than a whole bottle of Madeira.

"I should say good night then," he whispered.

"Yes, I believe you should."

Without sparing another moment, he swept from the room. Mercy heard the door to the sitting room latch shut. Collapsing on the bed, she swore she heard the far off tolling of a bell tower before she fell into a deep sleep.