'Three may keep a secret,
if two of them are dead.'

-Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard's Almanac

⚖︎⚖︎⚖︎

-Aunt Iris-

As soon as the young woman passed through the massive wooden gates she turned left and Byron followed her seeing that she was approaching a livery.

The sight of it relaxed him. It was the closest thing to home he had seen since leaving England. A young man met her at the side opening and she spoke to him briefly turning to point him out so Byron walked forward and the young man dipped his hat and took the reins of the mare.

"Reverend. Nice to have you."

"Thank you," Byron answered him, genuinely happy to see another face that could justify his inner turmoil.

Constance rested a hand on Byron's arm. "Well then Reverend shall we go? That is all Cyrus, please make sure the horse is watered well and given feed."

"I will Aunt Constance." He smiled.

Constance gave him a curt nod and immediately cast her eyes to the ground, turned and stode off back the way they had come. Byron trotted to catch up to her after thanking the young man himself and giving him a tuppence for his trouble.

He severely wanted to ask her what that odd exchange was about but decided better of it and followed her in silence as she clipped up the wide path that entered the settlement and made her way along the well worn main carriageway, dodging mud holes and standing puddles of water as she went.

Byron glanced at the homes they passed, most of which were made of stone and wood. Smoke rose from tall chimneys and some had shuttered windows but they were closed tightly without a drop of light to be seen through their cracks. The entire settlement seemed much too quiet for an establishment of this size and there was not a sign of life to be found beyond himself and the stoic Miss Pennybacker. Very strange in his opinion.

Up ahead, a gated picket fence came into view and she headed straight for it. Byron noted the craftsmanship of the fence and his eyes followed a tree lined, cobblestone lane that led to a palatial, two story stone manor house with a large rambling front porch.

Constance reached for the gate and in spite of his weariness Byron stepped forward and opened it for her. She stepped aside with a slightly surprised expression, but smiled warmly and accepted the gesture with grace.

The inside of the home was spacious and while the decor was simple it was elegant and warm. An extra wide fireplace adorned the center of the entry great room and there were sitting rooms to both the left and right of the great room.

Beyond the fireplace Constance led him into a kitchen area that rivaled that of any royal palace and Byron's eyes gave away his surprise which Constance was quick to notice.

"It was my Grandfather's gift to my Grandmother."

"Excuse me what?" Byron asked quizzically.

"The kitchen. My Grandfather built it especially for my Grandmother. We have a large family," she said quietly.

"Ahhh, I see," Byron nodded.

"Please sit," she indicated placing the loaves of bread on the table. She went to the side table against the back wall and took a tall metal stein, filled it with water from a pitcher on the table and placed it in front of him.

He immediately raised it to his lips, relishing the cool relief he felt instantly. Constance placed a clean kerchief beside him and he used it to wipe his forehead as Constance pulled a cutting board nearby and cut a big chunk of bread, spread it generously with butter from a crock after which, she cut from a large round block of cheese placing thick slices on a plate with the bread. Next she unhooked a long hamhock which hung from an overhead beam and proceeded to shave several long slices.

"I'm sorry it isn't more but --,"

He waved away her apology. "This is more than enough," he assured her. "Thank you Miss. Pennybacker."

She smiled at the formality. "You may call me Constance," she offered.

Byron bowed his head to give thanks in prayer for the meal, crossed himself and took a bite of cheese and it melted in his mouth.

He couldn't remember a time cheese tasted so good. "This cheese is delicious, Constance, do you make it yourself?"

"We do."

"I thought I heard talking down here."

Both Constance and Byron looked up.

Iris came and took a place at the table with them.

"Aunt Iris. This is Reverend Dunleavy."

Byron immediately stood up but Iris bade him not to. "That isn't necessary Reverend," she held out her hand and Byron took it in a warm clasp. "Iris Pennybacker."

"Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Pennybacker."

"Oh no it's Miss. I am not married, Reverend. It just wasn't something in my fate," Iris clarified. It was my Father who founded Pennybacker Settlement. I was their youngest daughter. So tell us how are you finding things here in the Americas?"

Byron laughed. "Much better now that I have made it here. Your trusty guide Segenah brought me, but only as far as the bridge. Tell me, is that his usual tactic," he asked her casually.

"Oh my word!" Iris exclaimed. "I am so sorry. I'm surprised Bishop Swinburne didn't inform you of Segenah's peculiarities."

"Yes, myself." Byron agreed with surprise. "So it is common for him?"

"Unfortunately yes," she admonished. "Did he-- keep you company well?"

"Ah, no not particularly, but it's fine. At least now it is. Constance here has made up for all the difficulties with a wonderful meal," he said giving her a complimentary look.

Iris seemed to take his answer with varying forms of relief, but looked at Constance with a raised brow. "Yes, well I see," Iris said keeping her surprised glance on her niece.

"Yes, I was just saying the cheese is exquisite but tell me, this Segenah, has he always avoided completing his transports in this manner?"

Iris pursed her lips waving the inquiry of the Reverend to the side. "Oh it's just in his nature," Iris cajoled. "Tell me how is Bishop Swinburne faring these days."

"He seems well I would venture to say, yes. He was very generous in providing me with furnishings and a horse but unfortunately I had to leave all my belongings at the bridge and I do hope someone here can assist me in bringing them tomorrow."

"Oh dear me," Iris examined. "Of course there is! We have a family of men and boys who will be more than happy to. I am so sorry! No wonder you were so curious, that is just awful. But don't worry about a thing we will direct the men to retrieve them for you immediately in the morning. We won't need to bother you with it at all." Iris assured him.

"That will be fine. Well the hour is growing late and if its all the same I would like to find my residence and retire for the evening. This meal has been most wonderful but I declare the heat here is very tiring," Byron announced and stood up.

Both Constance and Iris stood also and Iris took his arm and led him to the door.

On the porch she told him how happy they were to have him and asked Constance if she would mind showing him to his home. Then she bade him goodnight and went inside.

"Well your Aunt is a colorful woman," Byron told her amicably. "Why is it she never married?"

"Honestly, I don't really know Reverend. Maybe she just never found anyone quite like my Grandfather. It was very hard on her when he passed away."

"I can certainly understand that. Was it sudden?"

Constance placed a hand on her chest. "Yes," she faultered. "I suppose it was unexpected," she said enigmatically glancing everywhere but to him.

Byron decided not to press the inquiry as it seemed it was a subject Miss. Constance Pennybacker was uncomfortable with. He made a mental note to look into all these strange anomalies.

About ten minutes up the main road Constance directed him to a drive that ran up a slight hill and there sitting against the black forest was a modest two story stone house much like all the others built here. Except for its seclusion and size, it was an exact replica of the larger house where Constance and Iris lived minus the porch.

He turned and surveyed the area with an uneasy sensitivity to the surroundings. It was unlike him to feel so vulnerable but the distinct intuition that he was being watched tore at his innards like a knife.

Constance, in her own quiet perception of his angst guided him towards the front door. "Come Revered let's get you settled in. Would you like me to make a fire for you?"

"No, Ma'am, that wouldn't be necessary. I am able to do that," he said with a sigh.

Perhaps he was just over tired and highly stressed from his travels and his mind was overwrought. Surely he was seeing things that just weren't there he chided himself as Constance opened the door and let him in.

When he stepped in through the threshold an icy blast of air hit his face and whooshed past him and an uncontrollable shiver took hold in his bones. He held his breath and went in to find a candle.

Constance went straight to the fireplace and taking a matchstick scratched it along the brick and it flared to life. She lit a candle on the mantle and turned to find a lantern she had placed there earlier in the day.

Byron looked about the room and despite his unusual misgivings found the interior very cozy. A bit of relief washed over him and he thanked Constance who was already at the door.

"Of course Reverend Dunleavy. Please make yourself at home. I hope you will be comfortable here. Goodnight." She took her leave closing the door behind her and Byron was left to ponder all the very, abnormal occurrences he had witnessed.