I again studied the large and towering trees, many still standing despite years of colonists clearing them for lumber and farmland. This close, I could see some of the city’s buildings now. I couldn’t help but feel fascinated, despite my desire to remain indifferent. There was an entirely other feel, compared to Osfro. There, in Osfrid’s capital city, everything was old. Stone castles and churches that had been around for centuries marked the skyline, surrounded by well-established wooden houses and shops that were sometimes fortified with stone or brick. Of course new construction and renovation took place all the time, but Osfro’s overall feel was one of solidity and prestigious antiquity.
Cape Triumph was . . . new. Hardly any buildings had that venerable feel. Most were made of wood, with the planks’ light color showing their young age. Much was still under construction as Cape Triumph grew in size and importance. None of the buildings, even some of the older ones, were very tall. There were no castles here as a memory of ages past. The largest structure I could see was a fort far off on a hill, and it too was mostly made of fresh timbers. That lack of stone, that lack of wear . . . it made everything feel so young. With such newness and instability, it seemed as though this town was fighting fiercely for its survival.
A crowd had gathered at the wharves, by far and away made up of men. These docks too had that same young feel, though some aspects were the same as in Osfrid’s ports. Water lapped against the wooden posts, darkened by the gray sky overhead. The smell of fish and refuse washing up to shore filled the air.
The sailors tied up our ship, and much went into securing it before we were allowed to disembark. By then, the crowd had further increased. I could see men dressed in finery, who might very well be legitimate suitors, lined up with those in common clothes who’d simply come to see the show. All wore heavy cloaks and coats against the weather, and I regarded them with envy as a bitter wind cut through me.
A group of burly men with guns strode up to the dock, and Jasper walked down to meet them. I gathered by what little of the conversation I could hear that these were men hired by Jasper to see us around safely. While I was used to being escorted in Osfro, seeing that squad of rough-and-tumble men drove home what a different world we were in. I’d dreamed of the excitement and adventure of Adoria, but this was still a dangerous and untamed place.
When we were given permission to leave, Miss Bradley lined us up and put me at the head of the line. “You’re the diamond,” she explained. “You must be the lead.”
I stared, speechless. I didn’t fear the attention, exactly, but after everything I’d been through, this seemed like too much. Before I could protest, Mira asked, “Why are you putting me third?”
Miss Bradley fixed her with a look both hard and sad. “Because you are third now. Everyone else above you was on the Gray Gull.”
The world swayed around me, as thoughts of Tamsin and that ship bobbing like a toy filled my mind.
“Adelaide,” said Miss Bradley. “You need to go. Now.”
I shook my head, rooted to the spot, and then I felt Cedric’s steady presence beside me. “Follow me,” he said. “We’re just going straight to my father, that’s all. Keep your eyes ahead.”
He walked down the dock, and after a few deep breaths, I worked up the resolve to follow. My legs felt unsteady at first, accustomed to weeks in a rocking ship. Solid ground had become a foreign thing. I kept my eyes focused on Cedric’s back as I put one foot in front of the other and tried to block out the gawkers around me. Even though I knew there was a whole line of other girls following me, I felt alone and vulnerable. Jasper, on the far side of the crowd, might as well have been miles away. His men had cleared a space where the dock ended, glaring threateningly at anyone who dared take a step closer.
But that didn’t stop the whistles or catcalls. “Hey, girlie, hike up that skirt, and show us what a real jewel looks like!” and “Did they bring that Sirminican for the rest of us? When do I get my turn?” were only a few of the taunts. An angry flush swept over me, offering a small warmth against the cold. My rage was directed not just at the uncouth men but also at Jasper. Surely there were better ways of acquiring husbands for us than parading us around like the livestock Mira had remarked upon. All that training and culture, the alleged improvement of our minds, meant nothing when we were put on display in this wild land and judged by our looks alone.
And yet, was it any different than when I’d been shown off in the grand ballrooms of Osfro? Would this always be a woman’s lot?
I had half an urge to tear the expensive clothing and dishevel the carefully styled hair. Instead, I held my head high and followed the scarlet of Cedric’s coat. I wished I hadn’t packed his dagger away in my trunk—not because I intended to use it, but simply because feeling the cold blade against my skin seemed comforting. I’m better than these people, I told myself. Not because of my bloodline—but because of my character.
At last, after what probably only lasted a few minutes, I made it to Jasper. He stood with more of his men and some carriages, which were thankfully enclosed. Jasper nodded in approval. “Excellent, excellent,” he said, beckoning us to the coaches. “I can already see the potential buyers. I suppose having half the set might drive up the prices.”
I came to a halt, my jaw dropping. Mira pushed me on, into the coach. “How can you ignore that?” I exclaimed to her as we took our seats. Surely even her tight control had its limits.
“I’m not ignoring it,” she said, rubbing her ankle. Fury simmered in her eyes. “But I pick my battles. Nothing can change what happened. Nothing’s going to change his nature. But we can control our futures—that’s what we must focus on.”
I leaned back against the seat, wrapping my arms around myself. Now that the tension of that terrible procession was gone, the cold was hitting me again. I strived to be as calm as Mira, but it was hard. I wanted to go back outside and scream at Jasper, letting out all the tumultuous emotions trapped within me.
But it wouldn’t bring back Tamsin or the Gray Gull.
So I sat in seeming complacency, letting my feelings boil within me. Two other girls joined us, and the carriage started off. I’d noted the lack of cobblestone streets here, even in a busy part of the city. The storm we’d faced had brought rain here, and I could feel the carriage struggle through the irregular, muddy roads. Once, our driver had to stop and get one of our escorts to help release a stuck wheel.
By the time we reached our lodging, it was late afternoon. Our temporary home in Adoria was a house called Wisteria Hollow. It seemed small and plain after the venerable Blue Spring, but I was told that by Adorian standards, it was a grand residence. It boasted a rare three floors and had real glass windows, which were also uncommon in Adoria. The land had mostly been cleared around it, but a few apple trees grew prettily near the front door, as well as the wisteria that gave the place its name. The wisteria vines were brown, and the buds on the apple trees were barely discernible, unlike the fuller ones back in Osfrid. Adoria’s more severe climate brought a slightly later spring.
Warmth hit us inside the house, and we were finally offered blankets and cloaks to shake off the cold. A middle-aged woman with tightly bound dark hair and a pointed chin waited in the foyer, along with a well-dressed older man in spectacles. He embraced Jasper and Cedric, and I realized this must be Charles Thorn. He beamed at all of us until Jasper murmured something in his ear. Charles paled, and I realized he was learning about the Gray Gull.
“This is a tragedy beyond words,” he said.
Jasper nodded but then shared his earlier revelation. “Indeed. It will increase the demand for this group.”
Cedric shot his father a withering look and then turned to Charles. “Uncle, we told the girls they could have some time before beginning their social season.”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” said Charles, nodding his head. “My poor jewels—of course you must recover. But
then you will have such fun once the season begins! Your promenade was only a taste of the delights to come.”
Mira and I exchanged glances at that. Charles had seemed totally sincere. He might be more kindhearted than his brother, but he was also obviously more naïve about the glamorous lives we lived. I could understand why Jasper was the dominant force in this business.
“This is Mistress Culpepper,” said Miss Bradley, nodding to the woman with the pointed chin. This felt vaguely like my arrival at Blue Spring.
Mistress Culpepper looked us over with a critical eye. “No doubt many of you think the New World is a looser place, where you will be allowed to run wild. But not while I am in charge of this house. You will follow all rules I set and adhere to their every detail. There will be no inappropriate or uncouth behavior under my roof.”
I stared. Had she never seen the procession by the docks? Did she really think we were the ones who might be uncouth?
The Thorns and a few of the hired men had lodging in a downstairs wing. Our rooms were on the upper floors. We would’ve normally been placed three or four to a room, but with our numbers reduced, we were being roomed in twos. I was grateful I’d have privacy with Mira, but it only served as another slap in the face about Tamsin’s fate.
“Change and rest,” Charles told us cheerily. “We’ll have supper soon and then help you prepare for the social season to come. Then, my jewels, the real fun will begin.”
Chapter 13
I don’t know if it was Jasper’s intent or not, but our mourning period ended up being a good business move.
Our disappearance after that initial procession drove our prospective suitors into a frenzy. They’d seen us once and wanted to see more. Jasper, realizing the advantage this presented, became enigmatic about when our ball season would begin. Our mystique increased, and messengers constantly came on behalf of their masters, looking for more information. And soon, the masters themselves began to arrive.
I was one of the most despondent over the Gray Gull’s loss, but even I couldn’t keep my curiosity at bay. The Thorns had a private office downstairs but would meet prospective clients in a luxury sitting room with a high ceiling that was open on one side to a walkway above. Here, we could crouch in the shadows behind a slatted railing and covertly observe the goings-on below. With no other contact with the outside world, aside from outlandish stories about pirates and Icori that our guards carried to us, this became grand entertainment for us. I welcomed the distractions, though they could never keep Tamsin far from my thoughts.
Some of the suitors came with general inquiries, and the Thorns slipped into their best sales modes to suggest possible matches to these suitors. Cedric was excellent at this, and not even Jasper could fault him. I was reminded of the Cedric from our first meeting, rather than the troubled religious dissident I’d come to know.
“Well, Mister Collins, a magistrate like you needs to be especially mindful of the kind of wife he chooses,” Cedric said to an inquiring gentleman one day. Several of us were crowded above, trying to get a good view. A magistrate was of particular interest to us.
“I’ve put it off,” the man admitted. He seemed to be older than us, mid-thirties if I had to guess. Cedric was handling the meeting alone, as was common. “I had been in talks with Harold Stone about his daughter, but then you arrived.”
“I know of Mister Stone,” Cedric said. “Good man, from what I hear. Successful farm, right? And I’m guessing his daughter is a pleasant, respectable girl, raised and educated at home with good values.”
“Yes . . .” Mister Collins spoke warily, uncertain of where Cedric was leading.
“But is a pleasant farmer’s daughter really going to help get you where you need to go?”
“What . . . what do you mean?” asked Mister Collins.
Cedric gestured grandly. “Look at you. You’re a man in your prime, your career still rising. Is magistrate the most you want to achieve? There are almost certainly higher posts in the government that you’d be in the running for—in Denham and in some of the other fledgling colonies where they need capable men the most. A man hoping to rise needs to stand out. He needs every advantage he can get—including his choice of wife.”
Mister Collins fell silent for several moments. “And you have someone in mind who would be suitable for this?”
Cedric’s back was to me, but I could picture his winning smile. “I have several.” He picked up a stack of papers and rifled through them. “Why, there’s Sylvia, a petite brunette who charms everyone she knows. Received very high marks in social planning—exactly who you’d want to arrange dinners and parties to impress your friends. And then we’ve got Rosamunde. Golden blonde hair. Excellent knowledge of history and political affairs. She can hold her own in any conversation with the elite classes—in a genteel, ladylike way, of course.”
Sylvia and Rosamunde, sitting near me, leaned forward eagerly.
“I do like blondes,” said Mister Collins grudgingly. “Is she pretty?”
“Mister Collins, I assure you, they’re all pretty. Beautiful. Stunning. Men are still reeling from the day they arrived in Cape Triumph.”
“I wasn’t there . . . but I’ve heard the stories.” Mister Collins took a deep breath. “How much would someone like this Rosamunde cost?”
“Well,” said Cedric, again going through the papers. I knew it was for show. He had all of our dossiers memorized and tended to make recommendations based on which girls simply hadn’t been pitched to prospective clients, in an effort to give us all exposure. I had yet to be suggested. “Her starting price would be two hundred gold dollars.”
“Two hundred!” exclaimed Mister Collins. “She’d cost two hundred gold?”
“Her starting price would, due to her rank. That number can easily go up if enough gentlemen bid and want to catch her attention. Between you and me . . .” Cedric leaned toward the other man conspiratorially. “Well, there’s been a lot of interest this week. Like you, many gentleman are partial to blondes.”
I’d only heard Cedric pitch Rosamunde as one of many other choices, but the idea that she was in demand was alluring to Mister Collins.
“That’s a lot of money,” he said uncertainly.
“That’s an investment,” corrected Cedric. I couldn’t help but smile. He was so charming, so self-assured. He probably could have sold Mister Collins on buying ten wives. “Tell me, when the governor hosts a formal dinner and has a new position to fill, what will his wife—a baron’s daughter, I hear—report back after conversing with Mister Stone’s daughter? And should one of His Majesty’s royal ambassadors visit, scrutinizing how well the New World is keeping pace with the old one, what will he say when he meets a farmer’s daughter? Will she be able to discuss arts and music? Be well informed on the intricacies of Denham politics? You yourself are of middle-class upbringing, I understand. You’ve certainly surpassed that, but I imagine a young woman skilled in aristocratic ways could be very useful to you as you navigate political waters.”
Cedric’s body language reminded me of some predatory animal, braced and ready for his prey to show a sign of weakness so that he could move in for the attack. Mister Collins fell silent once more. At last, he said, “May I see her?”
“Of course—at our opening ball, with everyone else. I’ll make sure you’re on our invitation list when we announce it.”
And that was how he left most of the men hanging, tantalizing them with the idea of a girl who was perfect for them but in demand by so many others. These gentlemen left consumed by the idea, soon imagining far more about us than Cedric could ever describe.
We’d been there about a week and a half when Cedric finally found a chance to pull me aside for a private conversation. “The painting and supplies are in the large cellar. Do you think you can find a chance to sneak in and finish?” The painting had been nearly complete when the storm hit, nee
ding only a few last touches.
“If I can escape Mistress Culpepper. She watches everything we do—much more than Mistress Masterson ever did.”
He nodded. “I’ll find a way to get her out one afternoon. Tell her we need some emergency cloth or supplies for some girl or another. It’s not entirely hard to believe—the opening ball is at the end of this week.”
“Is it?” I asked. I’d known this lull couldn’t last forever but was still startled.
“The announcement’s being made tomorrow. This place’ll be chaos as Mistress Culpepper gets you all ready. It should be easy enough for you to slip away. There’ll be last-minute wardrobe problems and more men coming by to make another attempt at a private meeting before everyone gets a shot at you all.”
I gave him a sidelong look. “Why don’t you ever pitch me?”
“What?”
“I’ve watched most of your meetings. You rotate through all the girls, making sure each one gets highlighted to some suitor or another. But never me.”
“I’m sure I have,” he said lightly. “You probably just missed those particular meetings.”
I found that unlikely. I’d watched almost all, and when I didn’t, there was always some girl more than willing to rehash every single detail of the conversation. Before I could protest, Mistress Culpepper came hurrying into the dining room.
“Mister Thorn, there’s a gentleman here to speak with you.” It was the first time I’d seen her look unsettled.
Cedric raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think we had any appointments this afternoon.”
The Glittering Court Page 17