Page 68 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)
Avery
Located in the southwestern corner of Chelsea, Varney House was a relic of the days the borough had been known as a “village of palaces.” Built in the late seventeenth century on eight acres of land said to be gifted by William II himself, it had remained in the Goff family, passing to the eldest child.
Over the years as titles lost meaning and pockets were emptied, acres were liquidated and sold until only the main house remained.
Though the entrance on King’s Road was still separated by a tall wooden gate and wall, the house was now comically nestled beside an antique store and across from the World’s End Public House.
To any unaware of its existence, it might have looked like a private park perhaps a bit overstuffed with old plane trees that reached over the aging pale brick wall.
For Avery, it was disorienting. She had not been a complete stranger to the area, but walking down King’s Road, watching everyday motor vehicles putter past was a constant reminder that things were no longer what they’d once been.
King’s Road was now just a name. You did not need special dispensation to traverse it—you did not need royal connections.
It was a road like any other with shops and pubs.
Public transport even had a designated bench nearly just outside the gate of the manor house—people from all walks of life clambered on and off two-story carriages.
Saga’s hand gently caught the crook of her elbow and pulled her out of the way of a man so preoccupied with his cell phone that he nearly barreled into Avery. “It must look a lot different since the last time you saw it.”
Avery’s eyes flicked to Saga, then back to their surroundings.
“This particular street was never familiar to me.” She thought better of her wording, not wishing to sound like she was dismissing her companion’s attempt for compassionate connection.
“But yes, it is very different.” She gestured to the main thoroughfare.
“Did you know this road was originally built specifically by Charles II as a private route to make it easier to travel from the palaces in Kew?”
“I did.”
Of course, she did—Saga was bright and knowledgeable, why shouldn’t she know the history? Yet, she couldn’t help but feel a slight sinking feeling in her chest.
Avery’s face must have betrayed her disappointment, because Saga quickly added, “But I’ve always wondered how they enforced it. Was it guarded or something?”
She needed no further encouragement. “While the crown was using it, I suspect there were guards present—or at least other nobles. It wouldn’t have been as easy to blend in back then—especially as it wasn’t so densely traversed.
You could perhaps fool someone that you were a foreign noble given special dispensation if you could dress the part, but as you might imagine, getting ahold of such garments…
” Avery trailed off as her eyes met Saga’s, and she smiled a little sheepishly. “You don’t want to hear this, do you?”
“No, I do!” Saga assured. “It’s like a walking history tour.”
“You’re humoring me.”
Saga took Avery’s hands and squeezed them reassuringly.
Touch came so easily to her. It was a casual gesture of connection—it wasn’t flippant or meaningless, merely without gravitas.
It simply was. “I promise you, I’m not. I really am enjoying hearing about this.
” She realized something, looked down at their hands and released Avery.
“Sorry, I know you aren’t the most touchy person. I’ll be better at remembering.”
“No, it’s…” Avery flexed her fingers at her sides, too aware of how different the air felt without Saga’s hand in her own. “I’m not offended.”
Saga chuffed an embarrassed sort of laugh and focused back on the previous conversation. “Let’s say you were caught on the King’s Road without special dispensation—what would happen?”
Avery began walking again, putting her hands in the pockets of her coat to grasp the lining and distract herself from Saga’s absence. “I suppose it depended on which monarch you offended. For a while they were rather liberal with the death penalty.”
“So basically we’d be walking on a death road.”
“In theory,” Avery admitted. “I don’t know of any who dared to commit the crime, truth be told.”
“It would be an incredibly stupid way to die,” Saga observed. She affected a different accent. “Did you hear about Marv? Murdered in the street last night he was. Oh, was he robbed? No, took a five-foot stroll down the King’s Road, guard took him out rather instantly.”
Avery laughed despite herself. “That’s good. Very accurate, I’m certain.”
“Be thankful for change then, I suppose.” Saga pointed to the address plaque secured to the large wooden gate as they reached a break in the old brick wall.
“This must be it.” She peeked around and saw a much smaller door inset to the left of the gate that had been retrofitted with a camera and intercom system.
Avery ran her tongue along her lower lip thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you know if the Chelsea Bun House is still in operation?”
Saga shook her head. “I’ve never heard of it, but if you’re looking for what I think you are, a lot of bakeries make them. Pretty standard pastry in London. We have them at Hudson’s most days.”
“Merciful fates,” sighed Avery. She could feel her mouth watering.
“Don’t drool in front of the murder suspects, dear,” Saga joked.
Avery playfully cut her eyes at Saga and cleared her throat with an authoritative cough. She pressed the intercom buzzer.
It took a few moments. Long enough that both women started to wonder if they should press again.
Then, at last, the intercom crackled with a very cross, “What is it?”
“Carys Varney?” Avery asked.
“Yes,” the voice fizzled back. “What is it? What do you want? I’m not buying anything.”
Avery and Saga exchanged a look before she continued. “My name is Detective Inspector Avery Hemlock, I’m here on behalf of an ongoing investigation. This is my associate Saga Trygg, would you mind if we asked you a few questions?”
The door gave a mechanical whine, unlocking electronically to allow them entrance. “Come in. Quickly, before the neighbors see you or hear something.”
Avery pushed the door in and allowed Saga to pass in front of her.
The younger woman tripped immediately over an overgrown bush that stretched its thorns over the pathway. She caught herself before Avery could reach for her, pausing to regain her balance before straightening up again. “Didn’t think we’d have to deal with booby traps.”
Avery struggled to suppress a laugh. “Are you hurt?”
Saga checked her boots. The laces were riddled with thorns, but otherwise, she was uninjured. “I’m not bleeding.”
“At least you have found your silver lining,” mused Avery, closing the door behind her before carefully stepping around the bush herself.
“It’s like the Secret Garden in here,” said Saga.
Avery didn’t need to know the reference to comprehend the meaning.
The grounds, while vastly diminished from the grand acreage of its birth, had been left to decay.
Anything that grew seemed to sprout from spite and natural tenacity rather than any conscious act of cultivation.
The stone path that had once trailed pleasantly from the wall to the main house was broken from age and neglect, leaving it malformed with stones damaged, overturned, and missing. “Probably safer to walk off the path.”
Saga picked a few of the thorns from her shoelaces before giving up. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I do not imagine she’ll be the most forthcoming—do you think you can slip away to look around?”
“Sure,” shrugged Saga. “I’m a seasoned ‘I was just looking for the bathroom’ kind of snoop.”
Avery blinked at her.
“I got this,” she reassured.
Varney House was somehow worse for wear than the grounds that surrounded it.
Where plants were able to grow and thrive, the manor itself did not have the good fortune of being able to care for itself.
It appeared as if perhaps a decade or so prior someone had attempted to restore the brickwork, but stopped in the middle of the process, leaving half of it a deeper shade of red, and the other crumbling and pale.
Three stories tall and sprawling, it might have housed as many as eight or nine bedrooms, though nearly all of the curtains were drawn over the abundant windows.
“Then again, if we split up, I may get murdered,” said Saga.
The front door, white paint cracked and peeling, opened, and Carys Varney darkened the entryway. “Did anyone see you?” she hissed quietly as they approached. “Hear you?”
“Yep, definitely gonna get murdered,” Saga muttered under her breath.
“No,” Avery called to Carys.
“Good,” Carys visibly relaxed. “Gossip grows in this neighborhood faster than weeds.”
Avery wondered who exactly Carys thought would be listening.
True, there were many people on the King’s Road now, but they were all so bustling and busy with their own activities that Avery was certain a myriad of things would have gone unnoticed.
She also had taken note that the surrounding residences were all newer and more metropolitan.
While it was likely Carys’s many neighbors had their own theories about the strange dilapidated mansion beyond the wall, she doubted they were anything like the sort of society gossips the woman was so afraid of.
Carys frowned upon seeing Saga, and Avery wondered if the camera stationed outside was functioning—or perhaps even fake. “I thought you were a doctor.” It sounded like an accusation.
“I’m consulting on this case per Inspector Hemlock’s request,” Saga answered, surprisingly stoic.
“What case?”
“Do you really want to talk about this out here?” asked Avery, taking advantage of the woman’s clear paranoia.
Carys peered around the yard as if she suspected society-page reporters might be hiding behind tree trunks before gesturing for them to enter.