You can read the story so far from the beginning here

“I gathered these for you, Mistress Hilary,” Samgan said as he stepped into the warm kitchen. “If it was a different season, perhaps it would be greater, but I hope that you can accept my poor offering.” He held out a small bunch of wild flowers tied with twine.

Hilary felt a lump in her throat. “Thank you so much,” she said. She rushed over to a cupboard to get a vase. “Take a seat. Dinner will be on the table soon. We’re just waiting for Lord Peregrine.”

“Thank you for including me,” Samgan said. He looked nervously at the long table, set with six places. “Is there any particular seat allocated?”

Paul sat at the furthest point from the head of the table and on the side nearest the door. “Sit opposite me,” he said. “That is, if you like?”

“Thank you,” Samgan murmured.

Hilary frowned as she watched him slip into his chair. The extra small jeans that she had found in a charity shop were held up by string around his thin waist, and the flannel shirt that was barely big enough for the frame of his wide shoulders and deep chest still hung cruelly loose over his frame. “The flowers are perfect for the table,” she said. “It’s just a plain meal, and you can eat as much or as little as you like.”

Tom strode into the kitchen and sat next to Paul. “What’s for dinner tonight?” he asked.

“It’s just shepherd’s pie,” Hilary said. “But it should warm you up.”

“It’s never ‘just’ anything,” Tom said, turning to Bracken. “What did you make?”

“The mistress made it all tonight,” Bracken said. “I was cleaning, remember, at the stores.”

“Of course,” Tom said.

“I made a big dish of shepherd’s pie,” Hilary said. “What we don’t eat can get put away to be reheated later, perhaps for lunch tomorrow, if there’s any left. And I did extra gravy, broccoli, and roast carrots and parsnips on the side.” She glanced at Samgan. “It’s plain stuff, but it will keep us going.”

“Did you do dessert?” Tom asked.

“She did and I did not see her make it,” Bracken grumbled as she put the large teapot, milk jug and sugar bowl on the table. “It is a large steamed pudding, with apple.” She looked thoughtful. “I can make the custard.”

“There’s no need,” Hilary said. “I don’t mind making it, but you can if you like.” She placed the vase of wild flowers on the table at the end.

“I changed situation to learn cooking,” Bracken said quietly to Samgan as she sat next to him and opposite Tom. “I had been in place with Lord Peregrine, but it didn’t suit me.”

“I think you found a good situation,” Samgan said. He looked slowly around the room. “There is much kindness here.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Hilary said. “But we do our best.” She frowned. “I won’t have kind words for Lord Peregrine if he doesn’t get here soon.”

Tom looked up, his eyes bright. “I can hear him.”

It was a few moments before Lord Peregrine strolled in through the door with a blast of icy air, and already the plates were on the table, a cup of Earl Grey was placed at Lord Peregrine’s place and dishes of vegetables were already on the table. “This looks splendid!” Lord Peregrine said. “I’ll hang up my coat, wash my hands, and be straight back.”

Paul chuckled. “It sounds like you had to negotiate that,” he said.

“This is my place, not his,” Hilary said firmly. She pulled a huge dish from the oven. “Samgan, take as much as you need, but in small mouthfuls. And there is plenty of food in the cupboards for later, if you need it.”

“There is,” Tom said. “Hilary believes in keeping her cupboards stocked.”

“Well you remember how it was when the embankment collapsed and we couldn’t get to the shops the usual way,” Hilary said, carefully placing the shepherd’s pie on a mat on the table and placing a serving spoon next to it. “I was glad of my full cupboards then.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Samgan said. “I was in a time of madness.”

Lord Peregrine bustled in and sat down. “We understand.” He frowned. “But don’t do something like that again. No-one got hurt by your actions, but it was close, and it caused some trouble.”

“I acted in accordance with my nature,” Samgan said, his voice even and his eyes sad. “I had been trapped for many years, and only freed when some sort of magical battle caused the hill with my cell to collapse.”

Tom looked up suddenly. “You mean the landslide after my father and uncle fought? You’d been kept in the hill?”

Samgan nodded. “In a tight space, where I did not hunger or thirst but where I struggled to move and the darkness closed endlessly onto me.” He shivered and dropped his eyes to his plate. “I was relieved to leave it.”

Lord Peregrine helped himself to a large portion of shepherd’s pie and passed the dish over to Hilary who had sat next to Bracken. “I hope that you won’t be trapped like that again. You can tell me more about it after dinner.”

“It would be a sad thing to mar the cheer of the dinner table with dark tales,” Samgan said.

“Indeed, and I have better things to talk about,” Lord Peregrine said. “I want you to work for Hilary.”

“What?” Hilary stared at Lord Peregrine. “No!”

“I should very much like to serve you, mistress,” Samgan said quietly. “I am so deeply indebted to you.”

“I can’t afford to pay you!” Hilary said. “I’m not making that much money, and I’m not likely to get short term guests until summer.”

“What do you pay Bracken?” Samgan asked.

“I has big wages,” Bracken said, her eyes wide. “And I work hard to earn them. I have a place to sleep, which is a room all to myself; food to eat, which is in the kitchen with everyone; a glass of milk, which I get every morning; clothes for my back,” Bracken took a deep breath. “And I have a coin at Christmas.”

“And I insist that you take time off,” Hilary said. “And you work too hard as it is.”

“Hilary worries about mortal laws,” Lord Peregrine said. “And I think that those are fair terms. Bracken is expected to work around an hour every day, and she gets paid separately for any work that she does at the Village Stores.”

“Those seem fair terms, Mistress Hilary,” Samgan said. “And even generous. I wouldn’t work in the house.” A faint smile passed across his face. “I couldn’t reach Bracken’s expertise. But your garden needs some work, and I would find it congenial employment.”

“Mistress Hilary has already given clothes for you and food,” Bracken said. She put a tentative hand on Samgan’s arm. “It is not hard work, and there is not much shouting.”

“It’s not exactly safe, either,” Hilary said. “Don’t forget, we have a problem in the cellar.”

“I have no answer to the witch’s snares,” Samgan said. “But I would be very happy to work for you, on the same terms as Bracken enjoys.”

Hilary added some carrots to her plate. “I need to ask. What happens if I can’t get milk? If there’s a shortage and I can’t get to the shops and there’s none in the farm? Or I can’t find good clothes for you? Or I’m just not able to meet your terms.”

“If it is not of malice, I will merely leave,” Samgan said. “You are wise to ask. If you try and deceive me, I will take action.” He paused as Paul set the dish of shepherd’s pie in front of him and took a deep breath. “But if you should speak with me, and explain, and perhaps offer other compensation.” His hands were trembling as he took a small portion and put it carefully on the plate in front of him. “Then I would be agreeable to revisit our arrangement.”

Some of the tension in Hilary’s shoulders eased. “Thank you,” she said.

Samgan found himself relaxing gently as the meal went on. The food was good, warming him in more ways than basic nutrition. Again and again he went back for a small spoonful of the shepherd’s pie, a fragment of broccoli and the smallest chunk of carrot or parsnip, taking care with his system as it recovered. At the same time he watched as Tom ate enough for three of him, and Paul, and even Bracken, ate heartily. There was a peace in the kitchen that hadn’t been there any time in his memory, and he was basking in it. As the conversation turned to the opening of the Village Store, Sam let his mind wander to the garden. There were many rare herbs in the garden, some of them tricky to grow and it would need careful coaxing to bring it back to its former state. He could hardly wait to get started. He glanced at the vase with his thin bouquet sat proudly on the table. He had to repay Hilary’s kindness.

“This dinner is excellent,” Lord Peregrine said.

“We has already made individual shepherd’s pies for the Village Store,” Bracken said. “They will sell well.”

“And you have steamed apple pudding with custard for dessert?” Lord Peregrine looked over at the stove.

“That’s right,” Hilary said.

“We shall have my court’s Winter Solstice celebration here,” Lord Peregrine said.

“What?” Hilary said.

“Obviously I’ll make sure that you have supplies, and I’ll pay generously,” Lord Peregrine said. “And I’ll provide all the drink.”

“What?” Hilary shook her head. “No.”

“It will be splendid,” Lord Peregrine said.

“No!” Hilary said. “I can’t host a big function like that. I’m just a plain cook.”

“This was a feast,” Lord Peregrine said. “I can’t wait to see what you do with all the fine foods for Yule.”

“No!” Hilary snapped. “Besides, the solstice is only a couple of weeks away and it takes time to prepare for that sort of meal.”

“Of course you’ll manage,” Lord Peregrine said. “Most of my court is here anyway.”

“That is true,” Tom said thoughtfully. He grimaced. “Lord Peregrine’s court is small and perhaps doesn’t have so many creature comforts. And, apart from us, there is Cabus, who won’t eat much, Magnus and his family who will eat like wolves, and the Lesken sisters.”

“Auntie Olive and Auntie Ivy will be happy to help prepare,” Bracken added quickly. “Though perhaps they shouldn’t be allowed near the food. They can wash up.”

“They can help decorate,” Lord Peregrine said. “And I will, of course, provide greenery for wreaths and swags.”

“I don’t have time for wreaths and swags!” Hilary said. “I can’t possibly do this.”

“I’ll come up tomorrow to sort out the details,” Lord Peregrine said. “Now, what about that steamed apple pudding?”

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

Hilary looked up wearily as Paul slipped into the library. “How’s Samgan?”

“Still fragile,” Paul said. He sank into the chair across the library table from her and slid a stack of notebooks to one side. “But Bracken hustled him into the kitchen, wrapped him in blankets and she’s coaxing soup into him.” He smiled. “She’s being an excellent big sister, even if they haven’t met before now.”

“And he’s showing no signs of wanting to turn all the milk in the house sour?” Hilary asked.

Paul shook his head. “He says that he owes us a debt,” he said. “You took on most of the nursing when he was really bad, so he feels that he owes you most of all, but he’s grateful to all of us.” He fought back a grin. “Lord Peregrine thinks that you have a new lodger.”

Hilary groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “But he’s a pooka!”

Paul shrugged. “I know that he won’t be able to pay rent…”

Hilary interrupted him. “That’s not the thing,” she said. “I’m not going to be a millionaire, but I can cover the bills. I’ve got online work, cooking for Lord Peregrine, and perhaps some paying guests in the summer.” She straightened up a little. “And I’m going to be reducing your rent. You’re helping out so much that it feels wrong to take money from you.”

Paul chuckled. “You have no idea,” he said. “The rates for these rooms are ludicrously low. Did you check any of the local listings? Rooms around here are expensive because people come to the Dales to hike and see the sights. I’m already getting an insane deal. Let me and Tom help you out.” He angled the bright reading lamp a little closer to where they were sitting. “We’re willing and able.”

“Lord Peregrine was negotiating the rates,” Hilary said. “I wasn’t planning on taking any lodgers at all. The Committee wanted someone to investigate the magical flows around here and I have a knack for that sort of stuff. I wanted to spend time on that.” She smiled. “Then Bracken turned up, followed by Lord Peregrine who wanted to complain, followed by Tom, which was a shock as I was worried about sharing with a werewolf, and now you’re here and I’m damned grateful.”

“Thanks,” Paul said. He looked around the library and then back to Hilary. “I’m glad I’m here too.” He tapped the nearest stack of books. “I get to play with all these. There’s bound to be some good stuff in here.”

“I don’t know,” Hilary said. “I’ve been skimming through them as I looked for dates, and there’s a lot of trivial stuff.” She grimaced. “Perhaps not trivial, and it may mean more when we go through them properly, but some of them are grimly repetitive.” She sighed. “Mind you, I don’t think that my notebooks are much better.”

“We can try scanning them,” Paul said. “I’ve got a halfway decent scanner upstairs. Then I can write an algorithm to track down some key phrases.”

Hilary leaned back in her chair. “It’s tempting, but I don’t know if that’s the answer,” she said. “You know that when it comes to magic, things are never entirely straightforward.” She thought for a moment. “When we’ve had at least one run through, I think that we should scan them, if only to send a copy to the Committee. You know how keen they are on collecting old notes.”

“It may take some time,” Paul said, looking at the heaps of books.

“It will be worth it, especially if we can enlarge it on a screen once it’s scanned,” Hilary said. “Some of this writing is tiny.” She sighed. “And some of it isn’t more than a series of loops.”

“How far have you got?” Paul asked.

“I’m starting with getting the stuff into date order,” Hilary said. She pushed over a pad of sticky notes. “It’s probably against everything a proper researcher would do, but I’ve been labelling each notebook with the dates that I can find and putting them in order.”

“That’s not a bad system,” Paul said. “Have you found any of Annie’s notebooks?”

Hilary shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “But I’ll be putting those separately to look at first. She should at least have an idea about what happened to Samgan.”

“I’m not exactly sure about that,” Paul said. “Samgan has been missing a long time, and he only turned up at the end of August or beginning of September. Annie died in March.”

“That’s right,” Hilary said. “It took the Committee a while to find a buyer for the cottage, and I couldn’t move straight in as there was a lot that needed doing.” She smiled faintly. “I swear I spent half the time sleeping in my car. All the chimneys were blocked, Annie’s wards were degrading and unstable and everything needed decorating.” She reached for the next notebook. “Let’s be honest, I haven’t really finished. I don’t want to redo the library. That room is perfect as it is, and so is the kitchen.”

“Isn’t there anything that you would change about the kitchen?” Paul asked.

“It will horrify Bracken, but I’d love an electric cooker,” Hilary said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that woodburning stove, but I don’t fancy using it when it gets hot in summer.”

Paul thought for a moment. “That makes sense,” he said.

“And Annie had all the plumbing redone,” Hilary said. “Probably when she added the bathroom to the cellar. I don’t need to do much more than update stuff like towels and mats.”

“But there’s still a lot more?” Paul prompted.

“Have you seen the state of the garden?” Hilary asked. “It’s an overgrown mess. I’m not an expert, but I know that some of the herbs we saw drying in the store room downstairs can’t be easily bought. The garden’s probably full of rare and magical herbs and I’m going to have to dig for them under the nettles and brambles.”

“Ouch!” Paul said. He instinctively glanced over at the window, but it was dark out. He could still easily visualise the wreck of the garden.

“There’s a parlour we don’t use and a sewing room!” Hilary said. “I don’t sew. I’ve never sewn. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“It might make a better work room than the cellar,” Paul said. “Or if you get enough lodgers over the summer, people who aren’t aware of what we do, then perhaps it can be a separate lounge for them.”

“It will still need decorating,” Hilary said. “Lord Peregrine wants me to ask Tom to do things, but Tom’s got enough to do with the new stores.”

“The Village Stores,” Paul corrected. “And that should quieten down a little over Christmas.”

“It’s still a lot to ask from a paying guest,” Hilary said. She managed a wan smile and gestured to Paul. “Like it’s a lot to ask you to rescue me from malignant cellars and help me with impossible research projects.”

Paul shook his head. “I can’t wait to get stuck into these notebooks,” he said. “And I’m hoping that you’ll let me scan them so that I can have my own copy of what’s here.” He waved his hand over the pile. “There’s all sorts of wisdom in here. Who knows what we’ll learn.”

“There was a great recipe for hand cream in one of the older notebooks,” Hilary said. “I found it when I was trying to find the dates. It’s basically goose fat and rose water.”

“It’s probably on some influencer’s blog as we speak,” Paul said. “And it’s being marketed as the latest miracle product.”

Hilary chuckled. “You’re almost certainly right,” she said. She worked her neck. “I’m not sure that this is a perfect system, but it’s what I’ve come up with so far.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind if you come up with a better way of doing things, but this is what I’m going with. Each notebook has a sticky note, which is held on with an elastic band as well as any sticky stuff. We all know that notes can get shaken loose.”

“Or lost,” Paul said. “When we, or you, or whoever, gets this properly catalogued and sets up the full system, we can put something more permanent on them.”

Hilary nodded. “That makes sense. I didn’t want to write anything on them, just in case.” She pulled over a large, new notebook with an ornate silver moon inlaid on the black cover. “It was a Christmas gift,” she said, looking a little uncomfortable. “I thought that I may as well get some use out of it.” She opened the notebook. “I’ve saved the first few pages in case we need to do stuff like index it, though I’ve no idea how we’d start.” She turned over a few pages. “This is where the records start. I put a number on the sticky note, together with the date. I put that number in here with the date and a note of anything I’ve picked up as I’ve flicked through and the name of the witch, if I can find it.”

“Are any of them called a Book of Shadows?” Paul asked.

“I wish,” Hilary sighed. “I’ve had them called diaries, journals, recipe books and even a pattern book. Not all of them have names and some of them are hit and miss with dates.”

“They aren’t dated?” Paul asked.

“If I find one more entry marked up as something like the Friday after the brown cow had its calf, I think I’ll lose what’s left of my mind,” Hilary grumbled. “I’ve also been taking notes on this loose leaf pad as well.” She pushed the pad over to Paul. “It makes less sense than the notebooks, but I’m trying to make sense of any patterns that I spot.”

“Do you have anything so far?” Paul asked.

Hilary grimaced. “I haven’t seen anyone complaining about the magical flow in the older notebooks,” she said. “But I haven’t been looking that hard. I’m just looking to put them in some sort of date order right now. But once we start getting nearer our time, there are quite a few issues. I haven’t followed them up, but I’ve highlighted the note when I’ve found a reference.” She tapped the moon notebook.

Paul looked thoughtfully at the notebook in his hand. “I’ll keep an eye out when I’m skimming through,” he said. “If I’m going to build an algorithm, I need to know what it’s looking for and I’m willing to bet real money that they don’t all use the same words for the problem with the magical flow.”

“You’d win your bet,” Hilary said. She took the next book from the stack in front of her. “We have half an hour before Lord Peregrine promised he would be here for dinner. Let’s see how much we can get done.”