Keeper of Enchanted Rooms (Whimbrel House, #1)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

In his office, Mr. Fernsby had multiple pens and pencils strewn about, as though every time he set one writing implement down, he retrieved another instead of picking up the first. The floor was littered with half-filled papers, some crumpled, some flat, others in between. Worse, his dinner plate was sitting next to the notebooks, and there was still food on it. Frowning, Hulda picked up the plate and carried it downstairs. Where she found his breakfast dishes had not quite made it to the sink, his fork was on the floor, and the eggs were not put away. And the most atrocious of them all, she later discovered, was that Mr. Fernsby did not make his bed. She stared at the disheveled monstrosity in his room, blankets askew, pillows flat, one forgotten on the floor. For goodness’s sake, she understood the library being a mess, the house was what the house was. But this was ghastly. Expected from aristocracy, yes, but this was the United States, and Mr. Fernsby was not accustomed to staff. He had no excuses. She blanched. What if he doesn’t wash his sheets?