SHACKLES

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Aunt turned the sign upon the shop door, indicating our business was concluded for the day.

Without delay, she began gathering my belongings in great haste.

"Make ready," she said firmly. "You are to return to Berkshire this very day."

I stood still, quite perplexed. "Pray, I do not comprehend the nature of this sudden urgency. Might you compose yourself and offer some explanation? And moreover, you must write to Mr. Eric to inform him on my return."

Aunt shut the trunk with a loud bang and drew a long, wearied breath. "Forgive me—I didn't mean to alarm you. My outburst was uncalled for, but I was most unprepared to behold that man at my threshold—nay, within these very walls. I had long imagined him as no more than a figure from some old tale."

I handed her a cup of water, which she drank in full, not pausing for breath.

Out of sheer curiosity, I inquired, "Pray, Aunt, who is he?"

Her countenance grew grave. "He is no one of consequence, and certainly not someone you need to concern yourself with. You shall depart as soon as I have written to your Papa and received his reply."

With that, she turned her back to me and said curtly, "Fetch me the quill and paper."