Annulet (Keepers Book 2)

Chapter 5 - In Which Questions Are Defined

Tracey followed Mr. Nidaye's directions, turning right and walking down the hall. She frowned as she approached the hall's end, however.

"Is there not supposed to be a garden here?" she said, staring at the ajar set of doors.

Although the room cast bright light into the dark hallway, Tracey could see that it did not lead to the outdoors. Rather, she glimpsed shelves upon shelves of books. That looks like a library! she thought. Tracey glanced about. I wonder if anyone would mind if I take a look...

"I may find someone inside to ask for directions, after all..." she finally said, venturing forward and pushing the doors open.

Any doubts about the space being a library were soon quelled. As Tracey wandered through the entrance, her eyes found nothing but lofty shelves of books. Daylight streamed into the room from towering windows and an opulent skylight far above. The library boasted a second level, also filled to the brim with books. She stared at the elaborate flooring, gold-encrusted columns, and lavish lighting. The grandeur of the library alone rivaled the opulence of the rest of the manor.

"Oh my..." Tracey gasped. "I've never seen so many books in my life."

She hesitated.

"I suppose a quick glance at some titles wouldn't hurt," she whispered.

Tracey picked an aisle at random, glancing at the titles on the shelves.

The Art of Steam Carving

Harnessing the Power of Steam

The New Age of Steam — A Revolution at Hand

Steam Recipes: 50 Delectable Dishes Certain to Impress Even the Pickiest of Eaters

"Oh," Tracey sniffed, hurrying from the aisle. "Of course, it'd all be steam related."

The end of the aisle proved to be more palatable to Tracey's interests. A long table flanked the end of the rows of shelves. Several chairs furnished it and large, open books sat proudly on display. She peered at each book, scanning its contents.

Several were in foreign languages. How many languages do they speak in this house? she thought.

"Here's a book I can understand," she said, leaning closer. "And a dictionary, at that!"

She scanned the entries. "Molasses...molding....mole...molten..." she read.

So many definitions... Tracey frowned. I wonder...

Tracey flipped the book to its front, scanning through the "A" entries. She traced her finger along the words. "Annexation...announce...annoy...annual...annuity... Aha!" she said. "Annulet! Let's see what this is."

Annulet (noun)

1. Architecture: A band on a column

2. Heraldry: A small ring used in a charge

"The first definition is easy enough," she muttered. "But what is a charge?"

She flipped the pages.

"Of course, 'charge' would have thirty definitions," she sighed. "I can at least narrow it down to being a noun and not a verb." Tracey frowned as she carefully read the noun entries. "Aha!" she triumphantly said as her eyes flitted to a matching definition.

Charge (noun)

7. Heraldry: An element often placed on a shield or crest.

"Ah, so an annulet can also be the circles on a coat of arms..."

Tracey paused. Protect the annulet... Did the note mean I need to protect a family that has an annulet on their coat of arms? Or maybe I need to protect a literal coat of arms? But where would you find one? Are they carvings, or perhaps a shield of some sort? Or maybe they meant to protect the column? "But that doesn't make sense," she sighed.

"Ahem," an alarmingly close voice coughed from behind Tracey.

Tracey gasped and spun around, coming nose-to-nose with an imposing woman.

The woman's tightly coiled hair was brushed into a fashionable bun, small ringlets of curls framing her face. She wore a simple yet elegant ensemble, not unlike Mr. Nidaye's ornate attire, dyed a hue of violet that complemented her chestnut complexion.

"What are you doing in my home?" the woman snapped.

"I-I'm terribly sorry, madame!" Tracey stammered, dropping into a curtsy. "I was trying to follow directions to the garden and had gotten lost."

"You don't seem lost to me," she sniffed. "Were you not just reading one of my books?"

"I apologize," Tracey said with a nervous glance. "I became sidetracked."

"What business do you have here?"

"I was invited here by Mr. Nidaye—"

"Ha! As if I'd believe that. I personally arranged the guest list for today's events. You were not on it."

"But I was—"

"Name?"

"Tracey Higgenbottom."

The woman raised an eyebrow and her eyes narrowed. "I don't recognize it," she said.

"It was a last-minute invitation. You see, I've only just come to Strattengear this afternoon, and Mr. Nidaye intercepted my carriage to invite me here."

"And you expect me to believe this foolish story?"

"I understand it may sound strange," Tracey insisted, "but that is simply what happened!"

The woman scrutinized Tracey, her eyes flitting over Tracey's worn travel garment. "Hm," she sniffed. "My husband would never do anything of the sort."

Tracey frowned. So this must be Mrs. Nidaye, she thought. "Madame, please," Tracey started again. "Mr. Nidaye should still be in his study. Perhaps we can talk with him and sort—"

"I don't want to hear your 'solutions'," she said, raising her hand. "These events are far too important for someone to just happen to arrive unannounced. We will call the constables and straighten this out when they arrive."

"Do you mean to arrest me?" Tracey gasped.

"I mean to remove an intruder from my home!"

"But I told you, I am not intruding!" Tracey said. "Please, I would simply like to find the garden and rejoin the tour."

"And why would I ever allow that?" she scoffed. "Out of the question. Not until we—"

"Mother?" A voice said from behind Tracey. "What is the matter? What is all of this noise?"

Mrs. Nidaye paused. "Mitilde, dear," she said. "Please go upstairs and call the town constable."

"Why? Who is this?"

"Someone who doesn't belong in here. Now please, Mitilde, go and call the constable."

"I'm not a trespasser!" Tracey protested.

"Wait a minute, Mother," the voice said. "...I believe I know who this is."

And how could she possibly know me? Tracey thought in exasperation, turning around to face the speaker. How are there so many people who know me that I don't know?

"Trace?" the woman said.

Tracey blinked.

The woman's brown, tightly coiled hair was styled into a bun similar to Mrs. Nidaye's. Her day dress was a deep violet, bringing out the dark hues of her skin. What stood out to Tracey was the woman's bright, friendly, and familiar eyes.

Standing in front of her was none other than Mittie.