Her Knight at the Museum

Chapter Twenty-One

Twenty-One

On Tuesday morning, Emily left Café Libre, the place Laurie had recommended, with a to-go tray in her hand. She wanted to get on Laurie’s and Terrence’s good side—or at least, Laurie’s less bad side—even if it meant going out of her way to a hipster coffeehouse.

As she walked to the museum, she took a sip of her own dark roast. Hmm. It really was less bitter…and to her annoyance and amusement, she did like it better. Maybe because she was no longer bitter herself.

She set it back in the tray, fished her phone out of her bag, and called Griffin.

“Good morning, my lady,” he answered immediately. “I am in the Uber.”

She smiled to herself. That was exactly what she’d wanted to know. “Great.”

Earlier that morning, it had taken her over an hour to get the ride hailing app set up on his phone with his name and her credit card. She’d spent even longer teaching him how to use it.

“I have my card, too,” he added, meaning his driver’s license.

“Then you’re all set! Do you feel ready?” The faint strains of a blues song mingled with the morning traffic, and she pressed the phone harder to her ear.

“Aye, my lady. I am eager to join Medieval Legends.”

“You’re their dream knight!” she gushed. The smells of freshly baked bread and buttercream hit her as she passed the bakery, quickly followed by a blast of diesel exhaust from the bus pulling away from the curb. “You already know how to ride a horse and handle a sword and do everything . Plus, you’re so handsome, and they’ll like the long hair.” She turned onto Michigan Avenue and approached the musicians who often performed on that corner: a Black guy playing the keyboard and a foot-operated drum kit while singing, and a white guy playing electric guitar.

“Just be sure to be nice to everyone,” she added to Griffin.

“I am always nice, unless anyone offers insult.”

“Right. I’m just saying…if it seems like someone’s offering insult, they might not be.” She stepped around a middle-aged man with a backpack who had stopped on the sidewalk to dance, not surprisingly—those guys were good. As always, they displayed a corrugated cardboard sign with their Venmo account; she made a mental note to send them something, which she’d done once before. She told Griffin, “And just do what you’re told. I mean exactly .”

“I fought a war, my dove. I know there are times when one must follow orders.”

“Of course. They’re going to love you.”

In the office, Terrence was especially appreciative of the coffee. He’d worked very late the night before finishing the Bruges window. Emily and Laurie both went to his worktable to admire the completed piece. In a scene of brilliant colors—ruby, cobalt, aquamarine, and violet—Sir Morien of the Round Table, recognizable for his ebony complexion and armor, was being knighted by King Arthur.

Emily went to her scheduled meeting with Jason in his office. Although she had fleeting thoughts of being fired on the spot, or perhaps even being turned over to the feds, her nerves settled as they had a perfectly normal discussion about her symposium presentation, Dating Medieval Sculpture .

Then Jason said, “You’ve probably been wondering about whether this contract will lead to full-time work.”

Emily managed a smile. “It would be a dream come true to continue. But I know the circumstances have made it weird.” She hadn’t even gotten to prove herself, since her main project had gallivanted out the door.

Jason nodded. “I’ve made the case for another head count, but two people on the board are against it, for obvious reasons. It’s on the agenda for tomorrow.”

She suddenly felt shaky. “Is there anything I can do?”

He shook his head. “Everyone knows that nothing showed up on the security camera footage, and it’s pretty clear the FBI couldn’t find any incriminating evidence in the labs. I’ve been making the case all along that the employees are the victims here.”

That was good of him, but still, her spirits fell to the floor. “Do all of them think I’m an art thief?” she asked, because she really had nothing else to lose.

“None of them are convinced of it. For one thing, the press hasn’t been able to find any ties between you and organized crime.” It was the first she’d heard of anyone pointing out reasons she might be innocent, and it made her feel a tiny bit better. “A few of the board members like the Russian theory, actually.”

“I haven’t heard about that one.” She dared to ask, “What theory do you like?”

He paused and glanced up at the door. It was closed, though glass windows made his office visible to the rest of the office.

“I’m usually a fan of Occam’s razor,” he said. “You know what that is, right?”

“Of course. The simplest explanation is most often correct.”

The hairs rose on the back of her neck. Did he know? Were they going to talk about this?

He said, “I want to ask you about something, and I promise I’ll keep it completely confidential.”

“Sure,” she said quickly. It would be such a relief to talk to him about it.

“Was there anything strange about that sculpture?”

She’d been hoping for a more specific question, along the lines of, Did that sculpture happen to come to life?

What would he do if she told him this? He might think she was out of her mind. She couldn’t have that. At the very least, she wanted to use him for a reference.

“It wasn’t a normal sculpture,” she said. “I mean, it had this energy…” She felt like she was betraying Griffin, calling him an it . “He felt like a real person, trapped in stone.”

Jason nodded slowly. “And what theory do you like about it disappearing?”

In a light tone, as if it were a joke, she answered, “Oh, I think it just walked away.”

Laurie appeared at the glass window and gave a wave. They’d run overtime and her regular one-on-one with Jason was next. Emily stood up, Jason told her to be fifteen minutes early for the symposium talk for a sound check, and then she went back to her desk.

There were other museums in Chicago, she reminded herself. This could just be a temporary setback. She’d worked at Bath and Body Works before, so she could do something like that again in the meantime. Or with her chemistry degree, she might be able to get a lab assistant job, as her father had suggested. Medieval Legends was almost certainly going to hire Griffin. Between the two of them, they’d get by.

Unless she went to jail, of course.

There’s no evidence , she reminded herself for the thousandth time. None whatsoever. Yes, she looked suspicious, having worked on the sculpture and having kissed a knight in shining armor in the gallery…but the lawyer had said that his audition was a slightly plausible explanation for his wearing armor.

She really hoped the audition went well. Medieval Legends was the only job she could think of that wouldn’t require him to mask his old-world speech and courtly manners. If he worked there, so many things would make more sense.

···

Deep in the suburbs, Griffin got out of the Uber and, before he forgot, fiddled with the buttons to pay the driver the extra money he was owed. He looked up at the large castle of pale, smooth stone. Across the front, large letters spelled out MEDIEVAL LEGENDS . A shiver went through his nerves.

Yes, he knew how to ride and how to fight, but that had been centuries ago. They probably did everything differently here. Do exactly what you’re told , Emily had said…but did she even realize how much he still struggled with their modern English? How he sometimes nodded and smiled while having no idea what he’d been told?

His heart kicked into a gallop, enraging him. He’d fought in deadly battles, and now he feared this? He had been the lord of a manor—his father’s property, by law, but his in practice—and the honored heir at the earl’s even grander hall, a castle in all but name. He had once dined at the king’s table! He wouldn’t allow himself to be cowed.

He considered calling his new friend, Aaron, who would surely bolster his confidence. Griffin hadn’t found the chance to tell Emily yet that he’d confided in Aaron about the truth of his existence; how he’d been cursed and turned into stone, and how he’d come to life again. Aaron had been so amiable and so interested in the statue, and as he seemed to be a worthy gentleman, Griffin had wanted him to know about Rose’s part in this miracle.

Aaron had expressed no doubt in his story whatsoever. Once Emily learned this, she wouldn’t mind that Griffin had talked about it. Aaron had put his name and number in Griffin’s phone, and had put Griffin’s in his own, saying they must talk more soon.

Car doors slammed behind Griffin and he turned. Two men, one wiry with long black hair, and one shorter and stouter, with light brown hair and the beginnings of a beard, approached, walking toward the front door.

“I gotta say, this is pretty cringe,” the shorter one was saying.

“All actors have embarrassing early gigs,” his companion said.

What were actors doing here? Maybe this establishment also employed them as jesters. Griffin pretended to stare at his phone so he could keep listening.

The shorter one went on to say, “There’s paying your dues, and then there’s pretending to sword fight for a bunch of kids.”

“It’s not going to be all kids.”

Emily hadn’t told him that the knights of Medieval Legends were actors , and she hadn’t said it was for an audience of children. Why hadn’t she?

Because if he’d known, he would’ve refused.

“If I get in, I’m not telling my dad,” the shorter one said as they walked past Griffin. “He’d be humiliated.”

The image of his own father’s face, with an all-too-familiar expression of disapproval, came into Griffin’s mind. Heat rose on the back of his neck. This was not a respectable exhibition of sparring, but some kind of foolish play. He followed the two men to keep listening.

“Yeah, for actors, this is kind of the lowest of the low,” the taller fellow agreed. “Unless you get to play the king or queen.”

The ragged traveling troupes of actors in his time had loved playing kings and queens, too, in order to mock them, even though they were sometimes arrested for it. As part of the performance, they’d pretend to piss or shit, let out very real farts, or pantomime swiving the servants or donkeys, inspiring vulgar cries and hoots of laughter from the commoners who gathered.

These were the roles the men aspired to?

The first man snorted. “I hear you have to be a squire for two years before you can even be a knight.”

Thunderstruck, Griffin stopped short and stared after them.

Was it possible that he, at thirty years old, would be asked to be a squire ? No, not even that, though he had not been one since he was seventeen, but to play one as a degenerate actor?

What could’ve been more humiliating? Mucking out stalls? No, that would’ve been dignified by comparison. Catching rats? How could she have put him up to this?

The insult coursed through his veins as he took out his phone again and called for another driver. Another man walked past him, giving him a nod of greeting. There for the trials, too, Griffin supposed. What had the world come to, that men would compete for the chance to be an actor?

He stood in the middle of the parking lot waiting, feeling forsaken, his heart broken. Did she think so little of him that she thought this was the best he could do?

···

When Emily let herself into the apartment that evening, Andy bounded over to her as always, but Griffin sat on the sofa and looked up to her, unsmiling. Her heart sank.

All day, she’d been imagining him doing well at the auditions. When she’d called him in the middle of the afternoon, he hadn’t picked up. She’d told herself that was a good sign—he hadn’t been sent home after a first cut or something like that—and had ignored the apprehension coiling in her gut.

“Hey,” she said weakly. “How’s it going?”

He just stared at her. What in the world? Frustration mingled with her disappointment. She came over to the sofa.

“How were the tryouts?” She didn’t want to assume the worst.

“I did not go.”

“What?”

She hadn’t meant to, but she’d raised her voice in shock. Forcing herself to speak more normally, she said, “Did the driver not come? You were supposed to call me…Oh no, did your phone run out of minutes?”

“The driver came, and I rode to the castle.” His gaze on her was flat. “I did not go in.”

Ugh! There went their whole story of why he’d been cavorting in the museum in his armor on the day of the supposed theft. It still would’ve been a huge coincidence, but it was at least an explanation . One that she’d already given to the lawyer. Basically, she was going to look like a liar.

Emily wrapped her arms tightly around her midsection, as if it could pull in her frustration and bewilderment. “Why didn’t you do it? You got nervous?”

“No!” The anger in his tone made her jump. “You think I would be fearful of that?”

How dare he yell at her? If anyone should be mad, it should be her. He was the one who was supposed to go and get a job.

“So you took a car all the way out there and then just…took a car home again?”

His jaw was locked. “Yes.”

“Griffin, that cost more than a hundred dollars!” All this expense, and he wasn’t even apologizing to her about it. Not to mention she’d spent a lot of time teaching him how to use the app. “Why didn’t you audition? We talked about this a bunch of times!”

“It is beneath me.”

Emily’s blood heated. “Oh, I’ve heard that one before,” she muttered.

Griffin got to his feet. “Do you compare me to that of a former husband of yours?”

There was a desperate sheen in his eyes, warning her that this could get out of hand, but she didn’t know how to lower the tension. “No! I’m just saying that job is literally perfect for you!”

His face flushed with anger. “Think you so? Then you see me the lowest of the low. And what is worse, you did not even tell me! I have trusted you with all my heart, to my folly.”

Whatever he was talking about, it was a mean thing to say. From the time he’d visited her in his dream, she’d done everything she could to help him.

He went on to proclaim, “Yet you urged me on my way to this false castle without once saying that they were actors .”

“They’re not actors!” She threw her hands up in the air. “They’re jousters and riders…I mean, yeah, I guess they’re actors, but they’re doing all the things you’re good at!”

His jaw was set in a rigid way she’d never seen before. “Two men there said it was the lowest rung of acting.”

“Oh my God,” she said helplessly. “It’s not Hollywood, but it looked like a fun job. And you said before that you would do any labor.”

“I did not say any .”

It was true. He’d said something about his dignity. But could he stop thinking about his precious dignity for a moment and think about her?

She locked her hands and put them on top of her head. “In your time, did you have the expression beggars can’t be choosers ?”

“You admit that you see me as a beggar.” His voice had dropped lower. “I am a learned man, and the son of an earl besides.”

“Which means nothing now.”

He flinched. Good. Because it was true. She was worried about losing her job, worried that he’d made a liar of her to a lawyer, and okay, she hadn’t exactly talked to him about these things, but that was because she hadn’t wanted to worry him, and was it too much to ask for him to try to get a job he was actually very qualified for?

He stood up and walked to the window, as if he couldn’t stand to be closer to her.

“You are sorely provoking me,” he said.

She stared at his back disbelievingly. “How are you angry with me ? After all I’ve done for you?”

A horrible dread rolled over her. She’d sacrificed everything for Tom, and it hadn’t meant anything to him.

“Ugh,” she muttered. “I am so done with this.” She hadn’t been put on this earth to support men who didn’t even appreciate it.

After Tom, all she’d wanted was a stable, sensible man. One who kept his commitments. Griffin was the exact opposite of stable and sensible. And she still hadn’t minded, as long as he said pretty words to her and swept her off her feet. Right now, he wasn’t doing that, either. He’d let her down, and he was being a jerk about it.

She’d suspected all along that his infatuation with her would wear off. It had always been too good to be true. Had suspected, in fact, that it wasn’t real in the first place, but just a by-product, first of desperation, and then of the general excitement over being alive again. Maybe now the bloom was off the rose.

Griffin still stared out the window. “You do not respect me,” he said in a cold voice that stung her to the core. She’d never thought he would talk to her like that.

Her emotions had gotten out of control, and his, too. She’d been in enough fights with Tom to know that there was no point continuing when they were both so upset. It broke her heart that she was fighting like this with Griffin, too.

“We need to take a break,” she said sadly. “I’m going out.” She could get some fresh air, have a little cry, and cool down. Maybe she’d go to the café a few blocks away and read over her presentation. The symposium was tomorrow, and although she had a finished draft, at least, she hadn’t even edited it. The work would clear her head.

“Very well,” he said, his voice rough.

This was so unlike him. Or was it? She hadn’t known him long, after all. She grabbed her purse and coat, then paused by the door, hoping he’d meet her gaze, hoping he’d say something that would make her think they weren’t in for a long round of fighting. If they could avoid that, she’d rather stay.

Nothing. He wouldn’t even look at her.

She walked out the door.