Jill stopped outside a door and pressed her finger against a brass plate. There was a long pause, then the door swung open. The room inside was vast, easily large enough to hold two or three potions workrooms. A handful of tables were scattered around; a billiard table, a card table, a chessboard that had been cunningly worked into the wood ... I couldn’t believe my eyes. This - this - was how the aristocracy spent its time? I couldn’t imagine having so much free time. When I hadn’t been working, I’d been studying. I hadn’t had time to play games.
Two men were bent over the chessboard, their fingers hovering over the pieces as they moved them across the board. They didn’t look up, even though they had to know we were there. I watched, studying the two men. One of them looked oddly familiar, although I couldn’t place him. It took me longer than it should have done to realise that he had to be Reginald’s younger half-brother. His features were very much like Reginald’s, but softer. I wondered if that meant he was a better person. Somehow, I rather doubted it.
“I win,” the other man said. “Again.”
“Luck,” Simon Bolingbroke said.
“None of your cheek, young man.” There was a faint hint of a smile on the older man’s face. “You’re only thinking one or two moves ahead. You have to think at least ten moves ahead before you can be Patriarch.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Simon said.
He glanced up at us. We curtseyed, hurriedly.
“Put the trays on the table,” Simon ordered.
He didn’t say anything else. It took me a moment to realise that he wasn’t going to say anything else. I followed Jill as she put her tray on the table, then turned and followed her out of the room. I could feel their stares boring into my back as I closed the door behind me with a sigh of relief. Did they know I was a fake? Did they know I had bad intentions? Did they know me?
“That was Wesley Bolingbroke,” Jill said, very quietly. “Lord Anton’s brother.”
I nodded. “Why’s he here?”
“They all live here, when they don’t live in their own estates,” Jill said. “He’s here to see what he can get out of the family coffers. I ...”
She broke off as someone came around the corner and walked towards us. I felt my blood turn to ice as I looked up, then hastily lowered my eyes. Reginald had donned a wig that made him look a decade or two older, but it was him. I knew it was him! I cringed, expecting him to sound the alarm or hex me or simply curse me into the next world. He’d seen me enough times to know me. He had to recognise me. I was too close to him for comfort. There was no hope of escape ...
Jill curtseyed, then dropped to her knees. I followed, keeping my head bowed. Reginald might not see my eyes, if I kept them firmly pointed at the floor. He strode up to us and walked past, as if we weren’t there. I turned my head, just enough to see him walking down the corridor. He never looked back.
I sagged, sweat trickling down my back. He’d been right next to me and he hadn’t seen me. He hadn’t even looked at me. I wanted to giggle in naked relief. He'd tried to kill me - he had killed Master Travis - and yet he couldn’t be bothered to remember my face? But then, I was wearing a cap and a maid’s outfit. I was practically part of the furniture.
Jill tapped my arm. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I assured her. I stumbled to my feet. “You?”
“Yes,” Jill said. She sounded tense. It struck me that she would have spent the last six years at everyone’s mercy. I wondered, suddenly, just who was her guardian. Lucinda? Or Staunton? Or Her Ladyship? “I ...”
She broke off and led me back to the hidden stairwell. “That could have been a lot worse,” she said, as soon as we were inside. “Don’t let him catch you alone.”
“I won’t,” I promised. How many times had she issued the same warning? More times than I cared to count. “What ... what happens?”
“He’s got wandering hands,” Jill said, shortly. I heard the warning in her tone and didn’t press any further. “They all do, but he’s particularly bad.”
She said nothing as we walked down the stairs and back to the kitchen. A dark-skinned girl was standing by the door, listening sullenly as Cook berated her for being late, letting the rest of the staff down and a whole string of other offences that I had thought only theoretically possible. Poor Daisy really was getting it in the neck. I did my best to ignore the racket as Jill led me over to the servant’s table, where our lunch was waiting. Cook had whipped up scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. It was very basic - I could have done better, if she’d let me anywhere near her stove - but there was plenty of it. My stomach growled as I sat down. I just hoped we’d have enough time to eat before we had to go back to work.
Jill looked happier, now we were back below stairs. “Daisy will be spending years cleaning grease,” she said, wryly. “Just be glad you don’t work in the kitchens.”
“I am,” I said. “But wouldn’t a cook learn a trade?”
“Perhaps,” Jill said. “Lucinda is always bragging about how she worked her way up from scullery maid to housemistress, but you know what? I don’t believe her. And Stanton is minor family. I bet she’s minor family, too.”
I doubted it - I’d met enough people like Lucinda to know she’d never shut up about her connections, if she had any - but I kept that thought to myself. I was too busy thinking about Reginald. He hadn’t recognised me. He really hadn’t recognised me. My fingers strayed to the necklace, wondering if Master Travis had protected me again; I wanted to believe it, even though I had my doubts. The necklace hadn’t kept Reginald from seeing me when he’d entered the shop that final time.
But he would have expected to see me in the shop , I reminded myself. He’d always seen me behind the counter. He wouldn’t have expected to see me here .
I tossed the thought over and over in my mind as I finished my lunch. Reginald knew I was alive ... didn’t he? He must have noticed I’d escaped his spell. The City Guard had been looking for me. They knew I was alive too. But they had witnesses who’d seen me flee the shop. Reginald might have thought I’d fled into the shop and died in the explosion ... I shook my head. Only a complete idiot would stay in a burning building, particularly if she knew that her master was already dead. I had to assume the worst. Reginald knew I was alive.
And he missed me, right in front of his eyes , I thought. It was hard to believe, and part of me still found it hard to believe, but it was true. I can make him pay .
I wondered, coldly, if I could get close enough to stab him, just once. A dab of poison on the right blade and he’d be dead in seconds, before the healers could save him. I knew how to brew a couple of poisons ... come to think of it, if I mixed two of my vials together, I’d have a pretty good makeshift poison. It would be hard for the healers to counter if they didn’t know what I’d done. But I wanted - I needed - that notebook. If I could figure out what Reginald was trying to do - what he’d asked Master Travis to brew for him - I might be able to find a way to avenge his death.
“Time to go back to work,” Jill said, standing. She picked up her plate and put it in the sink, ignoring the nasty look Daisy sent her. “We don’t want to stay here too long.”
I nodded. “No,” I agreed, as I forced myself to stand. Five days of backbreaking labour had left aches and pains throughout my body. I remembered the chess players, casually playing as if they had nothing else to do, and felt a stab of bitterness. “People might think we’re aristocrats.”
Jill laughed. “They might,” she said. “They might indeed.”
Chapter Seventeen
“You appear to have done decent work,” Lucinda said, her tone suggesting that she was almost disappointed not to have an excuse to tell me off. “I must say that you have lived up to the Hiring Hall’s standards. It comes as quite a surprise.”
“Yes, Miss Lucinda,” I said, standing ramrod straight in front of her desk. It sounded as though I was in trouble, even though I had done nothing over the last seven days to deserve to be in tr
ouble. Unless, of course, one counted forging paperwork and entering the hall under false pretences. “I am pleased to hear that you are satisfied.”
“I am not satisfied with your general conduct,” Lucinda said with a sniff, “but I suppose one must not expect miracles from a girl who worked in Lady Younghusband’s household. I imagine you spent most of your time with your skirt raised and your ...”
“ Miss ,” I protested. I didn’t have to pretend to be shocked. Apparently, there was a good reason why Lady Younghusband had had to leave Shallot in a hurry. I’d heard more rumours about her in the last week than I’d heard in my entire life. “I am no slattern!”
“How strange, coming from that household,” Lucinda said. She gave me a nasty look, daring me to challenge her again. “And you are so ... exotic .”
I bit my lip to keep from saying something that would probably earn me a slap, if it didn’t get me kicked out of the hall. Lucinda watched me for a long moment, then shrugged and turned her attention back to her paperwork. I waited, suspecting it was another power game. I couldn’t leave until I was dismissed. I kept my eyes on the desk, reading the paper upside down. Lucinda was writing yet another letter to one of her contacts, begging for staff. I rather doubted she’d be able to hire more servants in a hurry. Bolingbroke Hall really didn’t have a good reputation.
She’s part of it , I thought. I’d heard of crueller masters and mistresses, but Lucinda was a servant too. How many really experienced servants, the ones who can command fifty silvers a month, want to come and work for her ?
Lucinda looked up, her lips thinning as she realised I hadn’t tried to leave. “You’re to report to Grand Dame Stephanie this afternoon,” she said, tartly. “You’ll find her rooms in the blue corridor. And you’re to remain with her until relieved.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said. “When am I meant to report to her?”
“Now,” Lucinda said. She gave me a cruel smile. “I suggest you hurry.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said, resisting the urge to say something terrible. She might just have landed me in real trouble. “May I seek your pardon and be dismissed?”
“You may,” Lucinda said. “Have fun.”
I curtseyed and hurried out of the room, brushing down my dress. I’d been dusting earlier and I could feel the dust on my clothes, but there was no time to wash and change. I cursed Lucinda under my breath as I entered the hidden stairwell and muttered a pair of cleaning charms. Thankfully, whoever had designed the dress had made it very resistant to magic. I’d known dresses that had fallen apart when an unwary wearer had tried to use magic to clean them. Master Travis had joked that there were some outfits in his wardrobe that were held together by dust. I was tempted to believe him.
Bolingbroke Hall was a maze, but I was starting to understand how it went together. The lower levels consisted of servant quarters and workrooms, including at least one potions workroom; the middle levels were designed for entertainment and family business; the upper levels housed the family itself, from the Patriarch and his immediate kin to a small army of moochers, lechers and other parasites who could claim a link to the main bloodline. The blue corridor was reserved for the Patriarch’s immediate family, including Grand Dame Stephanie Bolingbroke. I felt cold as I reached the top of the stairs. Grand Dame Stephanie was Lord Anton’s mother. If I slipped up in front of her ...
I forced myself to walk down the corridor and tap on the door. There was a long pause, then the door swung open. A strong smell - flowers and perfume - greeted me as I entered, glancing around with interest. The room was huge, easily large enough to hold a dozen people without complaint. One wall was entirely covered in flowers, as if someone had imported a flower bed into the house. An elderly woman lay in an immense bed, her sharp eyes looking back at me. I saw her nose - so much like Reginald’s - and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was his grandmother. Her hair was white, but otherwise she seemed surprisingly healthy. I’d known of younger women who’d been left to die in the streets.
“My Lady,” I said, dropping a curtsey. “You summoned me?”
“You’re late,” the old woman said. Her voice was firm. This was not a person who was used to being disobeyed. “I expected you earlier.”
“I’m sorry, My Lady,” I said. There was no point in trying to pin the blame on Lucinda. I doubted there was any point in plotting revenge, either. “I was unavoidably delayed.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” Grand Dame Stephanie said, stiffly. “Come closer, my dear. Let me have a look at you.”
She studied me with a cold intensity that left me feeling unsure of myself. I looked back at her, trying to keep my disgust off my face. Grand Dame Stephanie wasn’t that old and she certainly didn’t look as if she should be bedridden. A few weeks in bed would probably have ruined her muscles, I thought, but ... why had she gone to her bed in the first place? I had to fight to keep my expression under control. I knew exactly what would happen to anyone in Water Shallot who went to bed and refused to get up. They’d be lucky if they were only kicked out of the house.
“Your father was Hangchowese, I see,” Grand Dame Stephanie said, finally. “Your mother?”
“A mystery,” I lied. She was quite right, although it was no great deduction. Lady Griffin was the only Hangchowese woman to visit Shallot, let alone remain in the city. Half-caste I might be, but I was definitely not related to Lady Griffin. “I was given to an orphanage after I was born.”
“A great shame,” Grand Dame Stephanie said. “I was one of the people who encouraged trade and investment in Hangchow. I always believed it would bring us wealth.”
“Yes, My Lady,” I said. It had made some people wealthy. It had also made a great many children like me. “But I wish I knew who my father was.”
Grand Dame Stephanie smiled, wanly. “There was a woman who paid a thousand golds to track down her family tree,” she said. “And then she had to pay another thousand just to cover it up afterwards.”
It took me a moment to realise it was meant to be a weak joke. “Yes, My Lady.”
“The family didn’t put enough money into the shipping trade after Richard died,” Grand Dame Stephanie added. Her tone was wistful. It struck me, suddenly, that she wanted someone to talk to. Even a servant would do. “And Anton never had the nerve to do what had to be done. There must have been something in the water, back when he was born. He never had the strength of character he should have inherited. His father was a strong man.”
“Yes, My Lady,” I said, wondering if I should be listening. Or if I was going to get in trouble for listening. “I’m sure he was.”
“Oh, one likes a strong man,” Grand Dame Stephanie said. She winked at me. “Richard never let me or Anton or any of the kids get away with anything. But Anton really doesn’t take after his father. He should have sent that brat out of the house as soon as he was born. Pay the mother, give the kid someone’s name ... he’ll have a good life. But instead Anton keeps the little bastard around.”
Reginald , I thought. What happened ?
“I should have warned him to be careful,” Grand Dame Stephanie added, sternly. “But he would never listen to me. Or Antonia. His father listened to me, at least.”
“Yes, My Lady,” I said.
“And then he has the child out of wedlock,” Grand Dame Stephanie said. “At least he didn’t have that brat first or we’d have no end of problems. Henri came first and thank the ancients for that ! But now Henri is dead and ...”
She shook her head. “He should never have raised the brat’s hopes, never have even hinted at his true bloodline. But the mother ... may the ancients reject her ... never took the hint and left. I should have kicked her out ... I would have done, if Richard was alive. That’s what I did to his lovers ...”
The Alchemist's Apprentice Page 17