“Katrina,” Lord Marchant said. Just the one word, said stiffly. She dropped into another curtsy and I did, too, although it seemed a bit late for formality now.
“Come here, my dear.” It was a command, his voice soft, inviting, but with that edge of compulsion. She glided forward instantly, hips swaying, cheeks flushed, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The perfect juxtaposition of desire and fear. Was she taught that?
She stopped barely three feet away from him and dropped into another curtsy, sinking down slowly and with perfect grace. How gauche I must look in comparison to that.
“Look at me.”
And of course, she did.
“Forget that you came here. Forget what you saw. Now go back to your room and take a nap.” I saw her nod, almost felt his commands rewriting something in her brain, establishing another chain of connection, replacing reality. She turned on her heel and left, appearing almost in a trance as she obeyed. It’s so easy for them to manipulate us.
“Do not tell Katrina anything,” he said to me when she was gone. “Compulsion is not perfect. She might come back here, hunting for information, drawn by her subconscious.”
“I didn’t know that happened.” It seemed a statement I was making often.
“If one’s will is very strong, or if they have a lot of emotion attached to the compulsion, then it’s worse. She’s infatuated with me at the moment, jealous even. She may very well come back, her mind wanting to recover the parts of her mind that have gone dark.”
“Gone dark? Is that what you call it?” My heart was beating oddly. All these secrets he was telling me, all these little things. Others didn’t know this. It wasn’t talked about. They were superior to us, we were alive to serve them, they didn’t pull back the curtain and show us how the magic happened or talk about the tricks failing. Why? Why me? Desire is a curious thing.
He hesitated. “They don’t call it that here, but it’s the most apt term for it, I believe. I should be on my way…and I will send over a guard or two for your safety. They’ll be from the Council, rather than House Marchant. It’s not safe for me to show favor to you.”
I blushed and had nothing to say to that. “Thank you,” I managed, because that’s always safe. And I automatically dipped into a curtsy, which made him smile.
“Now you decide to bend a leg for me. It’s much too late to start doing the expected, Miss Finner.” He inclined his head towards the door. “Hetty is coming up the hill. I’m going to leave. When you catalogue what is missing, come find me. In the brown wrapper is a cloak from House Marchant. Wear it, and everyone will assume you’re Katrina. No more runners or sending for me. Some distance between us would be a very good idea.”
“Would it be better if I used the phone to contact you?” I really don’t want to go to his home if I don’t have to.
He winced. “I don’t often have it with me, I’m afraid. If it’s not urgent, then by all means, use the phone, but if it’s important, then you’d best come directly. The Council is against technology, and the fear is that it that it might be lost. If a telephone disappeared and were found by the locals…the things they might say to the outside world.”
Of course, the danger of it hadn’t occurred to me.
Hetty came in and gave me a glower. Her eyes widened when she saw Lord Marchant. She bobbed her head at him in greeting. “Why is the flag up?”
“The storeroom has been broken into,” I said.
“Clean it up, then,” she said, and she disappeared to her room.
And so I started cleaning, compiling a list as I go. The list of what was broken was quite long, the list of what was missing far shorter. It was hard to determine what wasn’t there off the top of my head, as there were so many different types of herbs and medicines. If the bottle wasn’t smashed on the ground, how could I remember what it was?
When the room was clean, I took down the flag, and it wasn’t even an hour later before a pageboy came and requested my presence at the Cloisters for Miss Katrina. That’s how I’d have to address her from tomorrow on. Once the ceremony was over tonight and she was Lord Marchant’s, her rank would change. She’d be Miss to everyone who met her. The title a reflection of her rise in the world.
I packed up my kit, and set off to the Cloisters to find Katrina. It was a madhouse of servants, perfume, and colorful gowns. The girls were in a state of near-panic as they got ready for the confirmation ball. But Katrina’s door was closed, and when I knocked and went in, I found her in bed. I suppose it made sense, since Lord Marchant had commanded her to take a nap. “Katrina,” I whispered.
She was huddled motionless under a blanket. Her teeth chattered audibly. “Oh, Rebecca. Thank you for coming. Did they tell you I don’t feel well? I wanted to come see you or have you come here but the day…” She licked her lips, which looked dry and cracked. “The day kind of got away from me, I guess. Oh, I feel terrible!”
“Can you sit up?” I asked, and put down my things on the floor near her. Even now, sick as a dog, she was more beautiful that any of the other girls, her blond hair piled on her head, ringlets artfully framing her face. And her gown made it clear that Lord Marchant would spare no expense for the girl who was to be his primary.
“You’re cold.”
“I need something to make it through the ceremony.” Her knees were pulled in tight to her stomach.
“Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere. I thought it was just from drinking too much but this…oh, I think I’m going to be sick!” she gasped. I grabbed the trash container from under her desk and shoved it under her nose.
“Let’s go to the toilet at least.”
“No! I don’t want the other girls to see me. They’ll just gloat.”
“They’re your friends. They want what’s best for you.”
“No, they don’t. They want me dead. They’re all against me,” she said, sounding paranoid. And I had the uncharitable thought that she’d fit right in with Lady Cassandra.
Maybe if the storeroom hadn’t been broken into, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to ask her, but now it seemed like something worth investigating. “Tell me, Katrina, did you eat anything recently that was out of the ordinary? Or anything that tasted odd? Bitter, maybe?”
She was dry-heaving for a long moment. “I think it was the chocolates. I felt fine until then. But that wouldn’t make any sense,” she said, tears filling her eyes. I opened up my medical kit, taking out a purgative. If she were poisoned, I had to get it out of her as soon as I could.
“What chocolates?”
“They were a present from Lord Marchant. I ate a few yesterday and some more today, just like he asked. They were gross, but I thought it was a test or something.” Her eyes were screwed shut, and when she opened them again, there was a pink film in her eyes. “Like eating a flower. He wanted to taste them through my blood.”
I mixed the purgative with water, and gave it to her to drink. She drank it all and I sat beside her, stroking her slim shoulders as we waited.
“When will it—” and then she threw up, thick dark brown and dark red liquid filling the wastebasket. Fear ran through me at the sight of so much blood. She turned towards me, her eyes red, the tears sliding down her face tinged pink. I went to the door, stopping a servant who was rushing by with a shift in her hands. “Get a cart. She needs to go to the infirmary immediately!”
The maid looked at the shift and then at me, clearly conflicted on whether or not she should obey me or her mistress. “Now!” I shouted, and she fled down the corridor.
Katrina’s voice came weakly from the bed. “I’m not going to the infirmary. And don’t you dare tell Lord Marchant. I’ll be fine. I feel better already.”
“He has to know that you’re ill,” I said, not even trying to hide my shock at her desire to keep it a secret.
She shoved herself to her feet, swaying. “No, he doesn’t. I feel better. I’m not going to let a little illness keep me from the biggest night of my
entire life.”
“Katrina, you’re ill,” I said, repeating the obvious. “That’s blood you’re vomiting. You have to get help.”
“But Lord Marchant…”
“He can’t drink from you tonight. Not like this.”
Tears streamed down her face, so I got her a tissue and sat her back down. I continued to sit with her while we waited for transportation.
When the cart driver showed up, I was relieved to see it was Fred driving, a man I’d known for years and who was willing to follow my lead even though Katrina wouldn’t stop complaining about being sent to the infirmary. The people have a healthy respect for Hetty and me. If we say someone is sick and needs to be quarantined, they listen. We all knew firsthand the consequences of plagues.
“Come with me, Miss,” he said and picked her up in his arms, carrying her from the room as she could no longer stand on her own. The ride to the infirmary was bumpy, Katrina’s eyes screwed shut tight, her lips pinched in pain. She was carried into the infirmary, and I got an IV drip set up for her, took her temperature, and started a chart. Hetty came in a few moments later and dismissed me, determined to take over Katrina’s care without me. Which was fine, because I had somewhere to go, anyway.
But first, I’d need that cloak.
14
I went to the Marchant estate and couldn’t help but think of the other times I’d been here. Had there ever been a time when I’d been there and fear hadn’t been my foremost emotion? Don’t think so. Guards were posted out front, gardeners were working in the yard, and I figured all this routine activity had to be a good sign. All must be calm with Lady Cassandra if so many of her servants were working instead of hiding.
And yet, the shiver of fear that went through me as I hesitated on the doorstep was real.
The butler opened the door and showed me in, bidding me wait in the entryway. I made sure to keep my head down, barely able to peer out of the dark, heavy fabric, afraid someone would see me. My eyes instantly went to the spot where Lady Cassandra’s human lover had been found murdered. The marble was clean. One would never know someone had died there. How many of these rooms had held dead bodies over the decades? The house was over two hundred years old. How many stories of death and mutilation had simply been forgotten over the passing years?
Coy feminine laughter drifted towards me from somewhere down the hall. Every muscle in me locked, my breath caught, and I instantly broke into a cold sweat. The same reaction a small rabbit might have to a wolf crossing before them.
“Well, look at this,” Lady Cassandra said. “My brother is so eager for his little morsel he won’t even wait until the ceremony? How very unlike him!” I kept my head down, concealing my face. The scent of her perfume swirled about me. Then the blue skirt of her dress came into view as she closed the distance between us.
“Hmmm,” she said, the sound almost a purr.
“Take off your cloak, dear.” Her hand brushed down my arm. I couldn’t help taking a step back, terrified of her touching me. “Oh, I see how it is then,” she said, sounding quite theatrically offended. “Did no one tell you that brothers and sisters share, share, share? Now take off the hood,” she said, all amusement gone.
Where was Lord Marchant? I took down the hood as slowly as possible. Not that it bought me any time. She gave me a glance and then stopped, eyes squinting at me as a smile wreathed her face. “Oh how the plot thickens! I know you…why do I know you?
“Alistair,” she called loudly. “Come downstairs and look at this.”
A door opened from upstairs, and my fear doubled. Lord Dalmaine appeared, glancing over the rail at us. His usual bland smile expanded so that he looked genuinely amused at the sight of me. He came down the stairs lightly, taking two at a time with unnatural ease. He whistled when he saw the cloak. “Well, this should be interesting.” And if he decided it was interesting to disembowel me, he’d probably do that too, I thought, fearfully.
“Who is this girl? I’ve seen her, but where?”
“Did you ask her?” came Lord Dalmaine’s bland reply.
She threw him a worshipful glance. “That’s why I love you, my heart, always so practical. Well, girl, what’s your name?”
“Rebecca Finner. I’m the healer’s apprentice, my Lady.”
Her sharp blue eyes were riveted to me, but it was Lord Dalmaine who spoke. “Oh yes, Latimer’s castoff. That was an unpleasant business,” he said, sounding remorseful. But I didn’t trust it. Pretending to be sincere and then being a psychopathic monster was a hobby for them. “You were quite drunk by then, darling, but this is the girl Latimer said he didn’t want. He wouldn’t even try her after he danced with her. Positively ruined her chances.” He paused, “Of course she also spent some time in your dungeon. Do you not remember? It was only a few days ago.”
He threw me a glance, as if to convey that her forgetfulness was charming.
“See? That’s the poison! I told you!”
His gaze flicked away from me to her, his jaw tightening briefly. “You’re saying the poison made you forget meeting this girl?”
“What’s your explanation?” she demanded.
He blew out a breath. “General narcissism? Absorption in your own reality?”
“Those are the same thing,” she said, through clenched teeth. She moved away from me, towards him. “You’re no better than him. You always take his side. You swear it’s you and me, the two of us, and then the moment comes to choose a side and it’s never me.”
“Now, now. Choosing you and mocking you are two different things. I mock everyone. Lee will be the first to tell you. Who do you think first started calling him ‘limp fang’?”
Lady Cassandra gasped. “I’d forgotten that! That was very funny. How long ago was that?” she asked. Could I just leave while they chatted?
“Note that you forgot that too, my heart. We all have our foibles. So you forget things, that’s all right. And actually, that was a while ago. When did White Fang come out? That book. About the wolf.” He looked at me. “You wouldn’t know, of course, because the Council likes people ignorant.” He looked me up and then down in a way that made me almost wet myself. “Ruined. That’s what we were talking about. And yet,” he said, and those final two words chilled me. He took a step closer to me, intelligence in his blue gaze. “Here you are, in a Prime’s cloak…to see Leander, I hope.” Hope? Why hope?
“Well, I’m annoyed. If the little hussy is all dressed up then I’m inclined to give her what she wants.”
Lord Dalmaine hesitated. “That’s not a good idea.”
“It’s a positively fabulous idea! You can’t tell me you’re not peckish. You’re always hungry!”
“Where did the cloak come from?” Lord Dalmaine asked, voice sharp.
“Lord Marchant gave it to me so that I could get him information regarding Lady Cassandra’s poisoning.”
His eyes narrowed, and I had the impression he was gauging my honesty. “Interesting. I’m sorry about that dungeon business. How long were you down there? Days, it must have been.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“But look how well she looks, Cass.” He paced a small circle around me, as if checking to see just how well I look. He stopped behind me. Directly behind me. She was in front of me, he was behind me, and I forced myself to stay still, to breathe calmly and not panic. Nonetheless, when he spoke again, it jolted me. “And did you know that this is the same girl Lee rescued from the pyres all those years ago?” He continued moving around me, then stopped in front next to Lady Cassandra, looking more smug than usual.
He slid a glance towards Cassandra, and the sense of danger grew. “Long time ago now. He pulled her out of there and took her to the infirmary. Saved her life. It was astonishing. You really do have more lives than a cat. Tell me, sweetheart. How many times has he given you his blood?”
“No!” Lady Cassandra gasped. “He wouldn’t have done something so stupid!”
“I’m thinking once becaus
e of the dungeon and twice to save you as a child…ah, maybe I should just ask him instead,” he said, and took a step back from me.
And then Lord Marchant appeared, moving quickly down a hallway to intercept us. “I was on a call to New York,” he said, as if that explained anything.
Lady Cassandra whirled towards her brother. “What’s Latimer’s castoff doing here?” She stamped her foot on the ground. “And in our colors no less!”
“She’s the healer. I supply the medicines, Cass. It’s not so complicated.” His tone was placating. But the mulish set of her mouth made it clear that she was having none of it.
“She’s wearing our cloak! It would serve her right to give us a taste. Unless you’re particular to her, Lee. Is that it? Alistair thinks you fed her. Tell him that’s ridiculous.”
Lord Marchant gestured for me to come towards him and I did, moving quicker than was seemly. “It’s ridiculous. She never would have survived it, and you know it.”
Lord Dalmaine grunted and leaned against the staircase, a half-smile on his lips, one booted foot crossed over the other. A Lord at ease. “Timid thing. She’s managed to survive this long. And being a healer is such dangerous work,” he said, but his smile was all teeth.
“God damn the pair of you,” Lord Marchant said, and motioned me down the hall. He stalked away, expecting me to follow him, throwing a hard look at me over his shoulder. When we were out of earshot, he said, “Put the damned cloak on. I told you to wear it, not use it as an accessory,” he snarled.
“Your sister made me take it off! And what you should be saying is ‘thank you for risking your life coming to me!’” Every step away from the pair of them made me feel lighter, warmer and safer.
Remembered Page 15