The Widow of Larkspur Inn by Lawana Blackwell Page B

silence descended, aided by the flickering of the tallow candle and the somber expressions of both Worthy sisters. Julia thought of the old knife sharpener, spewing curses with his dying breath, and a little shudder snaked down her back. This is all coincidence, she thought, then reminded herself, You don’t believe in ghosts .
    “I see,” she said finally. “Well, thank you for the warning.” Julia’s appreciation was sincere, for she could tell that the sisters’ motives were nothing less than honorable … even if their judgment was somewhat lacking. “I wish I could visit longer, but the children will need to go to bed.”
    Jewel’s eyelids fluttered. “Ye aren’t going to stay there now , are ye?”
    “I’m afraid we must. But I’ll bear all of this in mind, I assure you.”
    She got to her feet then, thanking the two for the chocolate and promising to have them over to tea as soon as the family had settled in.
    Iris replied, “Tea would be lovely, dear, but as early in the afternoon as possible, please.”
    “We don’t fancy the idea of having evening creep up on us in that house,” Jewel added with a decided frown.
    Julia opened her mouth, then realizing she had no ready reply, she closed it again and took her leave. The night sky was overcast, with few stars piercing the fog. As she crossed the lane, the Larkspur loomed ahead of her, vine-covered and mossy. She could understand how the Worthy sisters’ imaginations could run amuck at seeing such a sight from their windows night after night. When it’s cleaned up and the garden is replanted, they’ll forget about this ghost nonsense .

     
    The house seemed almost too quiet as Julia walked down the corridor to the family quarters. Ever since the day in the nursery when she’d broken the news about having to leave London, she had been tucking in the children herself. Frances had balked, of course, but Julia had insisted. She couldn’t believe how unthinkingly she’d allowed a nanny to perform that important ritual. Having been raised the same way, it was simply something she had taken for granted. How tragic that it had taken her husband’s death to show her where she had neglected her duties as a mother.
    I don’t care if the Larkspur becomes the most successful lodging house in England, she thought. Never again will I hire someone else to rear my children . The girls’ room was the first to her left. Though light still edged from underneath the door, she was not reassured, for no sounds came from the other side. Had they fallen asleep with the lamp on? Why didn’t I come home sooner?
    She breathed a little sigh of relief upon opening the door to find two faces looking at her from the pillows in the bed they shared. “I was afraid you’d be asleep by the time I got back.”
    “It’s going to be hours before I can sleep,” Aleda intoned a martyred voice. “I wish I were back in my own bed.”
    “Then I’m going to say an extra prayer that you sleep soundly tonight,” Julia said, sitting down on the side of the bed. “When we have lodgers, this house will seem much more like a home. In fact, I believe we’ll all enjoy having lots of people about.”
    For the first time it struck Julia why the idea of operating a lodging house now seemed so attractive to her. My children will have something resembling a large family. With only one parent and no grandparents, that was important. She read from Grace’s Wonderful Stories for Children by Hans Christian Anderson, listened to their prayers, kissed both foreheads, and walked down the corridor past her bedroom to the last door. I’ll only allow lodgers who don’t mind having children about the place , she decided as she gave the door a soft rap.
    Philip was sitting up on his pillows, staring down intently at an open book in his lap. He’d arranged the treasure he had brought, a marble chessboard and set of ivory carved men, on top of a writing desk in the corner.
    “I came to see if