Remembered

by Caroline Hanson

  “I wasn’t aware I was to pass everything through you. But I feel as though you’re implying something. So what is it? But do remember that I have little patience for fools who think they’re better than they are. So eager to become a blood whore you’ll settle for anyone, is that it? You know Lord Marchant won’t look twice at you once you belong to Latimer.”

  This was so far from the reality of what had happened—and so offensive—I forgot all about the body and the inspector’s men, who were just outside. “I didn’t request this! I have no idea why he wants me. Lord Marchant is going to try to get him to take his request back,” I said, and instantly regretted mentioning him.

  “Oh he is, is he?” she said with a sneer.

  “Because someone is needed here! The only one who thinks he’s interested in me is you. I can’t think of anything worse than belonging to him! Trapped in that house with his sister, who’d kill me out of boredom or spite the first chance she got. I’m not—“

  The men came inside then, bringing the body into the infirmary, their heavy tread and the crinkling of the body bag putting an abrupt end to our argument. Hetty waved a finger at me, something I knew meant both ‘stay here’ and ‘we’re not done yet’ before she went to meet them.

  “I don’t want the body here. Take it to the pyre.”

  I called out to her from the back room. “We have to wait for the artist to make a sketch. Mr. Hammond is going to try to figure out who her family is.”

  The sound of her feet stomping towards me was the only response. “Whose idea was that?”

  “Not mine. But it’s standard practice, so I’m not sure why you’re so upset about it.”

  “Why I’m upset? Lady Cassandra comes in here claiming she’s poisoned, accusing me, and we both know who has the most to gain if she’s harmed now, don’t we? It isn’t me who bears her any ill will, but you!” she said, accusation and venom in every word.

  “What?” I took a step back, wanting to escape her accusations and anger.

  “If you think I’m going to take the blame for this, you are quite mistaken, my dear! Your obsession with Lord Marchant won’t kill me, too.” I heard a shuffle from outside. The bearers were still here and to talk about this in the open, to accuse me of poisoning an Infinite, was beyond reckless. The gossip would be everywhere by sundown.

  My mouth opened and closed. Should I defend myself from these bizarre accusations? Should I tell the men to leave? Hetty wasn’t done yet, though, her voice lowering with anger.

  “I know you well, girl. What goes on in your mind? Get rid of Lady Cassandra, and you think he’ll want you? Maybe even thank you? You think you can be his without risk of Lady Cassandra slaughtering you out of boredom. I won’t have that blowing my way! I want you out of here, do you understand me? Now that you’ve come up in the world, you don’t need to stay here with me. Get your things together and go stay with the other girls in the Cloisters. I’ve had enough of you.” And she turned her back on me, leaving me standing there confused, terrified, and unbearably hurt.

  Was she serious? I was to leave and go to the Cloisters with the other girls who might be chosen as Primes? And she thought I was trying to poison Lady Cassandra? Wait. Did that mean she actually was being poisoned? What could do that? I don’t know how long I stood there next to the door, but I jumped when I heard Mr. Hammond’s voice announcing the arrival of the artist.

  It jerked me into motion and I went to my room, leaving Hetty to sort out the mess with Inspector Hammond. But that anger barely sustained me as I started packing up a bag, filling it with my clothes and toiletries, my shoes…it wasn’t as though it took long to pack, since I only had variations of my work gowns.

  But before I left, I had one more thing to get. The box with the blade that I’d taken from Lord Marchant. What to do with it? Leave it? Take it? Hide it? Throw it off a cliff? I pulled it out of its hiding place and put it in my bag, deciding to take it with me for the moment, this strange nebulous fear rolling through me.

  Something was happening. I mean, it seems obvious in hindsight that something was going on, that a trap of some kind was closing in, but then, I wasn’t sure what it was. I couldn’t see it. And so I hesitated over that box, Hetty’s accusations in my mind. She thought I was doing this because I was infatuated with Lord Marchant. That I was poisoning his sister? If I left the box behind and she found it, wouldn’t she think it was proof?

  I left out the back, still in disbelief and fragile as a newborn chick.

  I continued down the hill towards the Cloisters, determined to make the best of it. Hetty had kicked me out. And why shouldn’t she, since I was no longer to be her apprentice? Girls who worked closely with the Infinite lived in the Cloisters until they came of age to move to the big houses. And now I would go there.

  At least for the moment. Surely Lord Marchant would get me out of this. The Cloisters are a large rectangular building in the center of town, with gardens out back lavished with both money and attention. Bronze statues of former Primes are in front, and fountains line the way. The intent of it all is to inspire awe and recognition that only the best become food for the Infinite.

  The sculptures made the women immortal. Or as close to immortality as we got. Everyone knew who Eleanor Delarue had been, or Helen Dearborn, because they had once been so beloved by their Infinites that when they died they wouldn’t be forgotten.

  I’d only ever been inside the Cloisters when one of the candidates was ill.

  Each candidate had her own room, and there were some common areas where the girls could talk and relax, as well as a large common dining area. I didn’t know this at the time, but now, with the experience I have, I can say it’s most similar to a dorm room like they have at universities. After I met with the headmistress and some forms were filled out, I was led through a courtyard bursting with gardenias and fragrant roses. The sun sparkled off the white stone.

  I was put in a room by myself, at the end of the hall, far away from the other girls, and I knew it was because they were afraid of me getting them sick since I worked with the ill and dying.

  My room was quite plain. There was a light blue rug on the floor and a narrow bed covered with a white quilt shot through with silver and gold thread. The furniture was white too, as if the main concern when decorating this room had been to convey a sense of calm and peace.

  Almost instantly came a knock on the door. It was a seamstress bearing a gown. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me, and I could tell she was already thinking of alterations she would need before the ball tomorrow. Undoubtedly the gown had been purchased for another girl, but was being shifted over to me so I would have something to wear despite the short notice.

  The dress was the color of leaves. Not leaves like we have in New York, but tropical leaves. Rich and potent, the color spilling out of them, so heavy and dark with life that leaves on the mainland seem to be a pale imitation. The fabric was soft and buttery to the touch. She made me stand very still while she placed the pins for alterations, and in the time it took her to get it sorted and the dress removed, I’d already had three girls knock on the door and peek in to see me. One wanted medicine to settle her stomach (nerves were getting the best of her), and another clearly just wanted to see me so she could gossip to the others. And the final girl was Jessica, a girl I knew fairly well because her mother had spent a lot of time at the infirmary over the years, and she’d come to visit her.

  Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy at the thought of wearing that dress to the ball. It was beautiful. Far too beautiful for a healer’s apprentice, but just right for an Infinite’s Prime.

  The excitement in the air was contagious, and the nerves of it, the joy and fear, mingled inside me to make me feel sick and jittery. I lay down on the bed, since there was nothing else to do, and I thought about Hetty. My home. My bed. Mr. Latimer. Was Lady Cassandra being poisoned? Would the inspector come knocking on my door at any moment demanding to know if I had p
oisoned an Infinite?

  They’d put me to death if they thought that. It was the last thing I thought before I somehow fell asleep.

  When I woke it was morning, and there was a tray outside my door. A bowl of fruit, a cup of cocoa, two hard-boiled eggs and a small loaf of sweet bread. I had to give it to the girls, they ate better than we did in the infirmary. I’d had oatmeal every day except holidays for as long as I could remember.

  After breakfast, I bathed. I had barely enough hot water, because all the girls were taking their time, wanting to be extra-clean, scraped and slathered before the ball.

  I was told to stay in my room while I waited for various people to come visit me, so the day passed slowly. There was someone to do my hair and my makeup, plus the final fitting of my gown. From the way people snapped at me and sighed, it seemed that the appearance of one additional girl had thrown the whole place into chaos. I wrote a note to Hetty, begging her to come see me so we could talk about what had happened the day before, but she didn’t come.

  The makeup artist painted me pink and black, making my cheeks and skin glow so that I looked like a totally different person. And then the hairdresser transformed my mousy brown bun to long, shining ringlets that sprang back into place if I pulled on them.

  When the dress was on me, and I was all cinched, gathered, pulled, and lifted into place, I barely recognized myself. The green was incredibly complimentary to my brown eyes and hair. I felt like I shone, as though just maybe I was beautiful enough to be someone’s Prime. Amidst all the drama, it was a moment I still think of fondly. Me, transformed.

  When the matron came and collected me, she gave a nod of approval and led me to a line of other beautiful girls, every single one of us adorned and dressed like a beautiful confection.

  I was recognized, and there was much whispering and murmuring about my change in status. It made my palms sweat and my stomach curdle. A few girls gave me a little wave hello and we each commented on how nice the other looked, but my nerves got the best of me and I found myself staring at the floor most of the time, just wanting to get the whole thing over with, while the other girls talked.

  “You’re so lucky,” Claudia said to her friend standing behind me.

  “I saw him this morning on his way to a council meeting,” Katrina responded. I wasn’t really listening, but of course my curiosity was piqued when I heard them mention Lord Marchant.

  “Was it romantic?” Claudia asked.

  “He did it properly. He went to my parents first and got their blessing. Mama said she’s going to redo the garden with some of the money he’ll give them. And then he came to me and he brought me flowers. And this necklace,” she said, and her friends made squealing sounds of envy.

  I couldn’t resist looking, and my heart sank at the sight of it. Diamonds surrounded a brilliant sapphire that matched her eyes perfectly. The pendant dangled just above her breasts, and would undoubtedly draw every eye, just as it was meant to do.

  Lord Marchant had chosen her. She would be his Prime. Be there to feed him if he were hungry. I had a vision of her in his bedroom, of her using a special blade to cut herself just for him. My heart felt like a weight had been thrown on it, and in the mirror I could literally see my shoulders slump in envy and grief. A toxic mixture if ever there was one. When had he asked her? Why hadn’t he told me?

  I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. That his attention wasn’t good for my longevity or for my heart. The best-case scenario of becoming a Prime wasn’t a family or children, but being a blood whore until I died. Why would I want that? I should pity her and be glad it wasn’t me, not be filled with jealous rage.

  All these thoughts whirled through me angrily. Tears pricked my eyes, and I confess that I hated myself in that moment. I hated him, I hated her, I hated the whole damned place. What was it like on the mainland? Elsewhere? Not that I would ever see it, but suddenly I would have given anything to not be me, a foolish girl obsessed with a monster. On the mainland, the Infinite were myth, he said. How could that be?

  Katrina had been chosen by Lord Marchant, and if she hadn’t been queen bee before, she certainly was now. Her two friends flanked her, hanging on her every word, and from the unnatural stillness of the other girls in line, it was clear that we were all listening avidly as she relayed her encounter with him. He was ever so tall, she said. His eyes were piercing. She lamented his short hair, wishing it were longer, and I wanted to throw up.

  I smoothed the sneer from my lip and stared studiously at the wall. “His poor sister seems to be having a difficult time of it lately,” Claudia murmured, and although her tone was pleasant, there was definitely a blade there.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Katrina asked, tone icy.

  “Nothing, I’m sure she doesn’t mean anything,” Patricia said, eyes wide as she watched her two friends. I looked at the clock; unfortunately, the headmistress wouldn’t come to get us for another few minutes.

  “It sounds like you’re implying she can’t control herself,” Katrina said. One could have heard a pin drop out of someone’s hair, we all went so quiet.

  Claudia laughed, touched Katrina on the arm, her smile false. “No, of course not! They have as close to perfect control as they can…although she did lose an awful lot of servants recently. Rebecca, you were there, weren’t you? How many bodies was it?” she asked, and every eye turned to me.

  “I’m not sure,” I lied, feeling a blush stain my cheeks.

  “But you were there, weren’t you? Rumor has it that you were thrown in the Marchant’s dungeon for a few days until Lord Dalmaine rescued you.”

  Katrina gave me her full attention, and I did my best not to shrink away from her gaze. And I’d be damned if I told her Lord Dalmaine was the one who put me there, and that it was in fact Lord Marchant who rescued me. I didn’t care what she thought.

  “It’s Mr. Latimer for you, isn’t it? He doesn’t have a rank, is that right? He just manages the docks. So, I guess you’ll be moving to his house near the docks if you become his. Does it smell overly of fish there?” Katrina asked, her perfect nose sniffing in disapproval.

  Nothing came to me. No smart response or witty retort.

  The door opened, and we were ushered down the hallway to the gardens, where the party was set up. I could hear the music from a distance, swelling and growing sweeter as we get closer. The air was heavy with mist, and I wondered if we’d get rained out and have to move indoors. The torches and lanterns flickered steadily, illuminating our path. They wouldn’t go out even if the rain came, because Lord Marchant had something installed underground so that the fire didn’t go out once lit.

  It was like some sort of magic from the mainland. I imagined it being all lit up over there, with lanterns and torches on every corner and in all the rooms, streets lit up at night no matter how late it got. Was it so bright that it never got dark on the mainland?

  Yearning, harsh and violent, filled me. I wanted to know. I was desperate to know what it was like elsewhere. Where there were no Infinite and they were a myth, where diseases were cured.

  A buffet was set out, but I was too nervous to eat, so I took a glass of champagne, drinking the first of the five glasses that all of us candidates were required to drink. As the night went on and we’d had more and more alcohol, our blood became more alcoholic too, allowing the Infinite to feel the effects of the champagne as they drank from us. I quite liked champagne, although I suspected I’d like it even more if I didn’t have to drink quite so much of it.

  The ballroom was huge, the air filled with excited expectation as we awaited the Infinite’s arrival. We were encouraged to do all of our eating and drinking before they arrived, although the last two glasses could be spread out over the final two hours of the party.

  Our dance cards had room for five dances, and we all had short sleeves so that we had enough space on our arms for five cuts. Some of the girls would leave with five bandages on them, wearing their cuts like a badge of honor. It
wasn’t a guarantee that the girls here would become Primes, but it was pretty rare for a girl to not be selected after having been chosen, danced with, and tasted. That night was mostly a formality.

  And it wasn’t just one’s Infinite who could sample from us tonight. Any Lord or Lady could try us. That’s why we had the five dances and spots on our cards. Most of the girls would get sampled by at least a few of the Infinite. Except me.

  I presumed that Charles Latimer would want to taste my blood, but beyond that I couldn’t imagine any of the other Infinite would. And certainly not Lord Marchant.

  The girls’ excitement was contagious. Once selected, they would go to other balls over the years, be seen with their Lords and Ladies in town, serve them at exclusive parties, but that night was just possibility and the hope that life would be long and their Infinite kind.

  After two glasses of champagne I felt a bit light on my feet, so I wandered over to the food table, determined to eat something or else I might regret it the next day.

  “So who will become the healer’s apprentice now that you’re gone?” Jessica asked. She was a pretty girl I’d met several times over the years. Her family had a long tradition of daughters going to House Travail. Her parents had a lovely house overlooking the cliffs, and they were one of the first families to get regular deliveries of ice. Lord, the year we got ice was a big deal.

  There was some mahi-mahi that looked delicious, and chicken on skewers. But Jessica’s question made any hint of hunger vanish. I sighed and looked around for somewhere to set down my plate. “I don’t know. I know Hetty has a few girls from the Bottoms who’ve been coming to learn and tend the gardens for several years, but I’m not sure how much they know. I don’t know—” I swallowed, having a hard time finishing the sentence, “I don’t know who will replace me.” She gave me an understanding smile and even hugged me, which was so kind that it almost made it worse. Who would sleep in my bed, go and see my patients, do my chores? Who would wait in agony and excitement for the days when Lord Marchant would darken the doorway carrying supplies?