Her expression of surety faltered. Then darkened. Then became angry. Perhaps I had overestimated my cleverness and bravery.
I left the room, delivered the empty tray to the kitchen, and fled back to the library—through the passages, and back to Edward’s room.
I curled up next to his feverish form, and slept.
29
The Protecting
I awoke several hours later at the sound of pounding on Edward’s door.
“Ella? Edward?” Celia banged once more, jostling the handle. She pushed and the door gave an inch before sticking against the braced chair and toy boxes.
I flew from the bed and re-entered the passage, pulling the wardrobe shut behind me. I didn’t want her to discover me with Edward for the same reason a cat cleans its paws after a fall—I wanted to appear as though it was not as important to me as in truth, hopefully diverting attention from the very thing that was the most important of all.
I exited the walls through the library, grateful once again that I could traverse the passages alone and in silence, despite all else. I mounted the stairs with speed until I stood directly behind Celia—who continued to call into the room, turning the door handle again and again.
“You called?” I asked, clasping hands across the front of my dress.
Celia whirled around and stared. “Where have you been?”
Perhaps I hadn’t thought this one through. “I went to check on the horses,” I blurted, “and see to the garden.”
Celia’s eyebrows lifted as one. “Did you?”
My spirits sank. Had I fallen into a trap? “Yes, of course.”
She nodded once and touched a finger to her lips. “And you saw nothing? Noticed nothing?”
And that is why he that utters a lie is a fool. “I’m rather bleary-eyed this morning. I saw little and accomplished even less, thinking to return to the task after breaking my fast.”
“Oh no,” she said, drawing her fingers together. “That won’t be necessary. However, both of your sisters require assistance today.”
Not what I’d wanted to hear.
“Charlotte first, please. We’d like to dress early and arrive well before any others. More time with the Prince, you see.”
Why tell me this? “I’m sure that will be very beneficial for the impending proposal.”
Celia squinted at me. “I do hope you’re not mocking me, girl.”
I wouldn’t. Not now, anyway. “Of course not, but you did mention a wedding—”
“I did.” She dropped her arms to her sides and regarded me with an uncomfortable scrutiny. “You’re certain you won’t attend tonight, Ella?”
Her sudden use of my name last night I had ignored, as my exhaustion had obscured judgment. But now, it sounded foreign and unclean, coming from her lips.
“I’m certain,” I replied, pulling back to stand at the top of the steps, away from her reach.
“You’ll miss the chance to see this elegant, far-traveled princess everyone has been talking about. Surely my daughters have mentioned her.”
I ceased breathing. “Charlotte did mention someone yesterday.”
Celia stepped closer. “She has such lovely, sable hair. And pale, gleaming skin. Much like yours, under all that.” She waved a finger at my face and dress, and I forced myself to offer a pleasant smile in return.
“How lovely. Where is she from?”
Celia placed a hand on the railing next to mine, and it took every ounce of remaining strength not to pull away. I didn’t want to show the growing worm of doubt and suspicion that crawled about in my gut.
Did she know?
“We haven’t the faintest,” Celia said, waving her other hand in dismissal. “Won’t you come? You’ll miss the engagement otherwise.”
I shook my head and used the final line of defense left, though it drew attention to the very thing I’d been trying to avoid drawing attention to.
“Edward isn’t well, and I really must stay to care for him.” I took a deep, strong breath before continuing. “I might have asked Cook to care for him tonight, but I’m afraid she may have also succumbed. I haven’t seen her this morning.”
Celia regarded me with silent scrutiny, and I felt liken to wilt under the probing gaze. Finally, she spoke. “I imagine you haven’t. Go tend to one of your sisters. We’ll discuss your attendance later.”
I coughed in surprise. “But Edward?”
She snorted. “He won’t die to be without you for one evening, girl. Go.”
And with that, she folded her arms and backed against Edward’s door, as if to bar the entry to my own brother.
She hadn’t asked about the blocked door, either. Perhaps my efforts had bought some time after all.
Daylight has a peculiar manner of washing away memories and images from the darkness of night, and so it was that I entered Charlotte’s room with little trepidation and a bravery that surprised even myself.
I reasoned that, if Charlotte and Victoria had become something else … something other … had I not dealt with such things already and come away unscathed? Certainly, I thought, a conjuring of spirits under one’s control had to be different from those that existed in this present plane of their own accord, but spirits were spirits—if indeed they were spirits or spirit-possessed—and thus I didn’t approach them with blindness or total lack of expectation.
I could win this fight. For Gretel. For Mary. For Edward.
Still, to bolster my confidence that I might survive the day and see Edward safely away and well again, I pulled a piece of ribbon from one of my few remaining unsoiled garments and threaded the bone key onto it like a string. I placed this around my neck and secured it with knots, hiding the key itself under the collar of my clothing and out of sight. Although without power, as told to me by Curson, the feel of smooth bone against my skin brought forth a flood of memories of Father and his quiet confidence in all things.
If ever I had need of his strength, it was now.
And so, with bone about my neck and calm in my heart, I entered Charlotte’s chamber to assist her preparations for the third ball.
I found both Charlotte and Victoria in the same room, laughing together over goblets of deep, red wine. Thick, too, for I watched a droplet slide like fresh custard along the side of the glass.
The scent of roast meat and the tang of metal filled the air, as both plucked morsels of some treat from a tray near the window. Wherever they’d obtained something to eat was beyond me, for without Gretel to assist in kitchen preparations, I would have figured them to starve before venturing into such a place on their own—let alone know how to use anything but a knife.
Thoughts like these made me shudder, for what they might be consuming was another thing entirely. My confidence faltered, and I shook it off. I couldn’t dwell on what I knew it might be, lest I flee from them both and leave the task incomplete, risking my chances at a private moment later on. There was a quiet safety in denial, however false. I’d tend to the needs of the day and bide my time until the moment the three left for the evening’s activities.
And then I would protect my family.
Victoria noticed me first, and beckoned with a bent finger. “Do come in, sister. Would you partake?”
She lifted the tray and extended it toward me. When I didn’t respond, she sighed as though exasperated by my presence and set the tray back down. “Very well. Do as you like. I have no need of you.”
That hadn’t been Celia’s instruction. “Your mother intends for me to help you both dress today.”
They looked upon me with something akin to disgust.
“You won’t touch me,” Victoria spat, “you’ll try to steal my things again.”
“She helped me just fine,” said Charlotte, sipping the wine. “You only have to tell her what to do.”
“And did you not collapse from your strings being too tight? No, she won’t touch mine.”
Did Victor
ia seriously imply that I’d tied Charlotte’s corset so tight that it had been the cause of her collapse? Or more likely, that had been Celia’s explanation.
“You fell in front of the Prince, too,” Charlotte said, bottom lip protruding. “It’s not as if he prefers bleeding orifices to seizures.” She slammed her wine glass down on the table, breaking the stem and sending the glass tumbling to the floor. It cracked but didn’t shatter, only spilling the contents upon the rug at their feet.
Charlotte giggled at the sight, while Victoria rolled her eyes.
“My exit, at least, looked all the more sympathetic. Yours simply appeared desperate. Mother will choose me, in the end.”
Charlotte’s bottom lip pouted even further as she folded both arms across her chest, the very picture of a child denied her own way.
“You don’t know that,” she hissed, slouching back in her seat.
“I do, and you’d do best to stop acting like an imbecile. I’m sure Mother has other plans for you.” She took a delicate sip, looked at me, and wiped the corner of her mouth with a bare finger before licking off the contents. “But you may have use of her pet for another day.”
“I hate you.” Charlotte stood, stomped a foot, and pointed at the door. “Get out, sister. I have to dress for my prince.”
Victoria rose with a sigh, placed the goblet on the table, and levelled her gaze at Charlotte and me in turn. “Have a lovely day, sisters. And if I see either of you near my room today, I won’t hesitate to—”
“Just go,” Charlotte urged.
Victoria left, nose high in the air, and stopped only once in the doorway to address me. “And how is the brat, girl? Long for this world?”
If I could have struck her down in that instant, believe me, I would have. Instead, I offered a polite curtsy and a reply of untruth. “Edward is a strong and hearty boy, dear sister. Most children are. I imagine he’ll be up and—”
Victoria waved her hand as she interrupted. “I can’t possibly be bothered to care. Good day.” She swept out of the doorway, but who remained was sorry comfort indeed.
With a screech, Charlotte grabbed the tray of unrecognizable meats and hurled it at the door. To my amazement, rather than landing in a heap only inches away from her attempted strongman efforts, the tray flew through the air and slammed against the doorframe with a crash. It fell to the floor, making an awful mess to join that already under her feet.
“Well,” she said, after the final morsel had fallen. “I don’t care what she says. I shan’t go back. I will have the Prince and the life I deserve.”
And I had not a clue. “Go back where? To the castle? School?”
She stared at me then, remembering she shared the room with another body. “And why Mother has bothered to keep you around, I haven’t the faintest. You’re quite hideous.”
Color rose to my cheeks, though I bade it not. “Shall I dress you, sister?” I had no need of her insults or conversation today. Not after what I’d seen last night. “The red, today?”
She ignored me and bent to pick the broken goblet off the floor.
“My, my,” she murmured, turning it to look upon all sides, “how careless of me.” Her gaze slid to meet mine. “It does seem that I am unaware of my own strength, at times. What a pity. A lovely goblet it was, too. Did you not think so?”
I replied that I did. What else could I say?
Her tone shifted again, from mouse-like to a harsher, deeper version of Charlotte. My heart nearly stopped as she stared at me, inching herself closer with each word. “And if I should so happen to learn that someone has breathed a word of my private conversation with my sister to our mother, I will reward that someone with this—”
She took one step closer, palm wrapped around the goblet’s bowl.
“—same—”
Another step, and her grip tightened.
“—caress.”
The goblet’s bowl shattered in her hand, and she dropped the pieces without her gaze ever leaving my own. Several shards of glass stuck deep into her palm, blood oozing through the places where they pierced. Her eyes grew black as night, while a grin swept across her face.
For once, I found my senses and moved to leave with a cry in my throat, but Celia stepped into the room and blocked my retreat.
It would be the one and only time I would ever feel relief at her presence.
“Charlotte.”
The white of Charlotte’s eyes returned in an instant.
I didn’t dream it. I swear this. Truly, it happened.
Charlotte pulled both hands behind her back, as though intending to hide her bloodied hand from her mother. Celia raised one eyebrow, looked from her daughter to me and back again. “Stop being a wastrel and get dressed. We have work to do.”
“But—” Charlotte’s squeaking whine returned.
“You would have me choose another?” If words were knives, we both would have been slain on the spot. Charlotte remained silent. Celia turned on her heel and left, leaving her daughter shaking with fury. Charlotte ran forward and slammed the door closed, cutting off my plan of escape. I didn’t want to be in the room with this angry … being.
Choose another, Celia had said. Another what? Another whom?
And besides, how could she? Edward and I were all that remained. And yet, a nagging in my skull whispered other words I denied hearing for the longest time. Perhaps she meant another daughter—another creature, or monster, like them? Were there others we had yet to learn of? Or worse still, were these girls not her daughters at all?
I suspected I was being played for a fool. Whoever the others were, I would doubtless learn soon enough—and if not, I’d still have Charlotte. Ah, the joys I lived for.
“Shall we?” Charlotte growled, yanking a bulky, bead-laden, red velvet monstrosity from her wardrobe.
I saw no other option.
30
The Stand
I could not shake the image of Gretel’s hand, boiling on the stove, as I readied Charlotte yet again. I remained silent and carried out her requests, for with every demand came a reminder of her hand, pierced and bloodied and as it had appeared, free of pain. She had not hesitated to risk her own injury to prove a point.
Such a thing was not human.
My mouth grew dry as I worked, the scene playing over and over in my head, constricting my breath though I wore no corset.
Might I secret Edward away somehow?
Out of the house, or away from town. Perhaps we could find work on a ship or with traveling merchants. It would only be a matter of time before these three struck again, of this I felt sure. And how long would Celia’s patience for me hold?
I needed to get Edward away from her, now.
And Father.
Oh, Father. What if he returned to find our absence? What if we left, only to leave him to face the full brunt of Celia’s wrath? Despite Gretel’s suggestion that he knew some of the power I had found, I could not leave him to meet her alone.
And what if he lived but remained under her spell, too far gone to remember his own kin? I could not allow that. That is not a life, for a life under duress is no life at all.
Or what if he never returned?
What if Celia had already killed him?
Oh, Blessed Lord, save us. I repeated this prayer, over and over, blinking away the tears of memory and swallowing the hot, bitter taste of fear.
For my father’s sake, I had to do something. And for Edward’s, for after tonight, if Celia had her way, she would no longer have need of us to continue her ruse. With access to the King through the Prince, and thus to the throne, by God …
And … why?
Even as Charlotte admired herself in the mirror, turning this way and that, I no longer saw a young woman with whom I shared my home.
No, I saw Gretel’s murderer. One of them, a beast capable of carrying out every threat and more.
I glanced to the newly formed sca
bs on her hand, where the glass had cut and she had bled.
She’d bled.
Did that mean that she, too, could be killed?
The thought drew forth a whispered memory—words read from the Scriptures by my mother time and time again. They came to mind so clearly, I swear it was as if she stood there with me, speaking words of comfort: To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born … and a time to die.
Everything.
These remembered words and the strength of memory fuelled my resolve. I would not run, not yet. Tonight, I would attend the evening’s ball, but this time—this time—I wouldn’t ask the spirit child to hold back.
My family’s protection remained in my hands alone.
But William, he wouldn’t see the darkness coming—Celia would have her way in the blink of an eye, and no one else knew of it but me. Treasonous, her plans, but what did that matter? Lives were at stake, and I was the only person who knew.
I drew a shuddering breath as Charlotte pulled on her lace gloves and blew a crude kiss in my direction.
It smelled of putrid flesh.
I would likely die, this night. But if I did? I would do it defending the lives of the ones I loved, and avenging the lives of those I’d lost.
I couldn’t simply arrive at the ball and expect events to unfold as before. No, with this greater knowing, I needed to prepare, to be ready for Celia’s schemes—and to find a way to protect those who needed protecting at the same time.
But of course, such a thing is easily said—more difficult to carry through.
First, a weapon.
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