“How she cried and cried when she thought you had died in that dreadful place.” Jessica clapped her hands and laughed with exaggerated gaiety. “And now you’re back, and all will be well again. Mr Cole has returned. Hurrah!”
“Have you eaten?” he said, pulling out the chair next to him.
“No, sir.”
“Then won’t you join us?”
Jessica glanced at Sophia. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“I would like you to sit with us,” Sophia replied.
Jessica beamed at Finlay Cole until her gaze shot to the incantation bowl. Excitement vanished, replaced by a look of terror. “What devilry is this?”
“I took the bowl from the ottoman to show Mr Cole.” Sophia braced herself. Finlay was about to discover why Jessica valued the odd vessel. “I explained it keeps the witches at bay.”
“Quick. We must put it back. Hurry!”
Jessica didn’t wait for a response. She snatched the bowl from the table and darted to the window. Finlay followed her, whispering reassuring words as he helped her nestle the bowl on the blanket and close the ottoman lid. He dealt with Jessica’s ramblings with patience and compassion. Love for him burst to life in Sophia’s chest—a love so beautiful, so painful, so raw.
“Is there a reason you keep the bowl in here?” he asked.
Jessica stared out of the window. “The angel in the woods said it would ward off evil spells. That I must place it near a window to deter wicked spirits.”
Unperturbed by the strange conversation, he said, “I thought a man gave you the bowl, not an angel.”
“Yes, but he came to do the Lord’s work.”
“And yet you don’t know this man? You cannot identify him?”
Jessica shook her head and continued to stare out towards the woods. “It was too dark. But he foresaw your visit, sir. He said a familiar form would bring salvation.”
“When was this?” he asked.
“I don’t remember. A few weeks ago, perhaps.”
Finlay did not dispute the claim, despite knowing no one could have predicted he would come to Blackborne. “Angels have a power we cannot comprehend. You’re blessed to own such a treasure. Blessed to have someone eager to offer their protection.”
Jessica suddenly turned to him and smiled. “I have missed you, Mr Cole. I always wanted you for my older brother. When you marry Sophia, I shall be free to marry, too. Then we will all be happy again.”
“Yes,” Finlay said, though his lips thinned and his Adam’s apple bobbed above his black cravat.
“Does Father know you’re here?” Excitement danced in Jessica’s eyes again. “Can I be the one to tell him? He is so very fond of you, sir.”
Finlay’s handsome features twisted into a grimace, but only for a second. He placed a comforting hand on Jessica’s arm. “Your father died some time ago,” he said softly. “Do you remember? Perhaps he is the angel in the woods.”
Jessica appeared perplexed, but then recognition dawned. “Yes, I remember, sir.”
It was always the way. Beneath a haze of confusion, her memory was intact.
“We agreed you would call me Finlay.”
A childlike giggle escaped Jessica’s lips. “Sophia will be cross if I utter your given name. She wants you all to herself and hardly keeps it a secret. Sometimes, she looks at you like you’re a slab of walnut cake she cannot wait to devour.”
The tightness around Finlay’s eyes said he found the intimate conversation distressing. It was often difficult to follow Jessica’s train of thought. The irony was that her words carried a stark truth, a truth delivered so swiftly one could mount no defence.
“Come, Jessica, let Mr Cole finish his breakfast. Take the seat next to him if you wish to eat, too.” Sophia moved to the sideboard and prepared a plate of food for her sister. When she turned, Jessica was sitting next to Finlay, staring at him with curious eyes. “There should be plenty of toast, but I can have Cook make more.”
Jessica said nothing when Sophia placed the plate on the table. She seemed fascinated with Finlay’s beard and the way his black hair curled at the nape.