Now she knew. It was the reopening of the shipyard. Benedict had come for that. He’d pressed her to take a tour of the Boatwright estate the day of her grandfather’s stroke, and now that it was clear the Boatwright estate was not automatically his, he’d come to stake a claim to it—through her.
“Marry me, Elliot.” He leaned in to kiss her.
“Stop!” she shouted, raising her hands to block him.
“Not on my account, surely,” said a voice by the door. They turned to find Tatiana standing on the landing, her face a mask of disgust. She was still clad in her blue dress, but her ribbons had drooped significantly. “You have to have everything, don’t you, Elliot?”
“Tatiana,” Elliot said, pushing Benedict aside. She’d deal with him later. “Did Father tell you? He’s making me leave the estate.”
“If you don’t give your inheritance to me, yes.” Tatiana nodded, and shot a withering glare at Benedict. “I think it’s rather silly, myself. Did he really expect you to take that offer? What do you care if you leave here, if you have an estate of your own? You’re better off.”
Elliot was surprised by Tatiana’s frank assessment. She said it with no malice. It was a simple statement of fact. Benedict had moved away from her and was standing by the desk, glancing back and forth between the two sisters.
“And you’ll certainly be happy there now with your Post friends,” Tatiana added. She looked out the window. “You should be leaving now, I think?”
“I’m waiting,” Elliot said.
“For what?”
“Nothing.”
Tatiana smiled. “For your little Reduced friend? Or that pregnant foreman and her son? Or both?”
Elliot took a breath. What was the point in lying? “All of them, yes.”
Tatiana gave her a pitying smile. “That’s not going to happen, Elliot.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know our father at all?” Tatiana asked. “They’re leverage.” She pointed out the window.
Elliot rushed over. Outside on the lawn, Baron North stood by the gate. In one hand, he held a pistol. In the other hand, he held tight to Ro’s arm. “No,” she whispered. “What is he doing?”
It was a foolish question. She knew the answer.
A few moments later, she was out on the lawn. She didn’t see Jef anywhere, but wasn’t sure if it meant that the baron didn’t have him, or if he’d just chosen Ro to make an example of. “Let her go.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said her father. “I have provided for this laborer her entire life. I have provided for all of them. Too many have walked off my lands with no repercussions. It ends here. Today.”
With Ro. Elliot shook with a rage she hadn’t known she’d possessed. Ro was Reduced, but she was a person, not a pawn. “Let go of her, Father.”
“Happily. She’s so dusty. Simply sign over the Boatwright lands to your sister.”
He’d always controlled Elliot by threatening the Reduced and the Posts. If she gave in this time, she’d never be able to help them again. “No.”
The baron shrugged. “You will not take her with you. You will never see her again. I will establish myself on the border of our lands and shoot any servant who tries to cross.”
Elliot’s heart constricted. He wouldn’t. Would he? Ro wasn’t even squirming in his grip. Just standing dejected, limp, flinching a bit every time he spoke. Her face was turned to the ground. Elliot longed to call her name, but she was afraid it would give her hope.
Tatiana and Benedict emerged from the barn and met them by the gate. Tatiana carried Elliot’s bag. “Are you taking this, Sister?”
“Tatiana,” said Elliot, gesturing at Ro. “You know this is wrong.”
Tatiana held out the bag. Her face was impassive. “That we don’t want you to steal the workforce keeping our estate alive? The one we’ve protected and cared for, for generations? No, Elliot, I must say that I don’t.”
“Last chance, Elliot,” said the baron.
Elliot looked at Ro. The girl still wouldn’t look up, but tears dripped off the edge of her nose. On some level she understood. She must. “Ro, it’s going to be all right,” she said, as if she could convince them both.
And then she walked away.
FOUR YEARS AGO
Dear Kai,
Father is being unbearable tonight. He wants me to comb through all our ledgers. But I can be here till dawn and he won’t find anything extra. I only know a little about how the farm works from watching my mother, but even I know what the problem is. The harvest numbers aren’t good. Father didn’t listen to his foreman about the crop rotation, and since he pulled down the orchards for a better view of the sea, he isn’t going to get any help there, either. If it weren’t for the stockpiles on my grandfather’s estate, we’d be in real trouble this winter.
I know I should be more understanding—after all, it can’t have been any easier on him to lose Mother than it was for us. I want to believe they loved each other, and sometimes, when we’re down in the star-cavern sanctuary and all the lamps are off and he thinks we won’t know, I’ve even seen him shed a tear.
But on nights like tonight, I think he doesn’t miss her. He misses all the work she used to do for him.
Yours,
Elliot
Dear Elliot,
I have heard rumblings that there might be food shortages this winter. All the Posts are scared. A few of us were visiting the Grove estate recently, and there was talk of trading with them, even over your father’s objections. But the situation there isn’t great, either. Have you heard Mr. Grove is ill now too?
Things are falling apart all over, it seems. It makes me wonder about the future. About whether being tied to an estate is a good idea at all.
Yours,
Kai
Dear Kai,
I am worried for the future, too. Sometimes, I wish these gliders were big enough to carry us both away.
Yours,
Elliot
Dear Elliot,
I can’t build you a glider, but that doesn’t mean we can’t leave. Come to me tonight. I have a plan.
Yours,
Kai
Thirty-nine
“HE BANISHED YOU?”
Elliot North stood on the steps of the Boatwright house—her house—with all her worldly possessions in her hands, and asked its residents for admittance. Both Innovations stood above her on the porch, their mouths slack.
“It is his favorite remedy for dealing with a threat to his property, it seems,” she said, keeping her voice as light as possible. “He did the same thing to my cousin Benedict when it looked as if he’d claim his inheritance. It seems my inheritance is this estate.”
Felicia blinked. “The Boatwright estate is . . . yours?”
“Mine in fact, as it’s been for so long in practice,” Elliot said. Perhaps this was how she’d survive. Act gracious and formal and pretend that her heart had not just been ripped out of her chest. “And yet my first act as owner is to beg you for a place to sleep.”
“Of course!” said the admiral, beckoning to her. “We’ve bunked in far tighter quarters than your grandfather’s house—your house, I should say. And we should get used to it, too. Soon enough we’ll all be crowded together on the ship. We can find a place for you.”
He led her up the steps of the porch. “After you, Miss Elliot—I mean Chancellor Boatwright.”
Her new title echoed in her ears and reverberated in her heart, and Elliot gripped the handle of her bag even more tightly as the weight of what she’d done settled like a mantle on her shoulders. There was no other choice. Not just for her sake and the sake of the laborers, not just to make her friends proud, but for the memory of her mother and her grandfather and every Boatwright who’d ever held these lands. She couldn’t let them down.
Elliot dipped her head in thanks and entered her new home.
“IF YOU GIVE US a few hours, we can move out of the master bedroom,” Fel
icia said.
Elliot shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. If I find I want a bigger space to sleep, I can wait until you’ve left for good.”
Her tone remained even, but inwardly, Elliot quaked at the thought. Left for good. As hard as it was now, surrounded by Fleet Posts she could count on as friends and with the countryside full of Luddites she knew were on her side, how hard would it be when everyone left? When the nearest ally she had were the Groves a whole estate away and she was forced to face the consequences of her choice alone, completely cut off from the rest of the islands by her father’s land.
But she couldn’t back down now. She’d been alone before, and she’d managed. She’d do so again. Here, at least, she had a chance. If she gave in to her father, she’d have nothing. Not even the chance—distasteful as it was—that Benedict had offered her.
Even if she was forced to entertain that possibility—to save Ro and the others—she wouldn’t consider it until the Fleet left. She couldn’t bear for Kai to know. Not even now.
No sooner than she’d dropped her bag in a small back bedroom did she turn around and head out. There was so much to do. Though she longed to find Kai and get his take on things, other matters took precedence. She needed to make sure that all the Boatwright workers were informed as soon as possible, in case her father tried to expand his edict to those who belonged to her estate and trap them on the wrong side of the border. She needed to get in contact with Horatio Grove at once and let him know of the feud and the danger now posed by a North estate put entirely in the hands of Baron North. This needed to be resolved before the planting season started. It was already afternoon, so Horatio would likely be preparing for her grandfather’s funeral . . .
Elliot stopped short. Wait. The Boatwright’s body was on the North estate, but in order to send his pyre out to sea, they had to travel to her lands. The baron wouldn’t ignore her grandfather’s last wishes, would he? She hurried back to the porch to ask Felicia for use of one of the sun-carts to visit the Groves, but stopped when she saw an unfamiliar sun-cart parked on the lawn with a Post driver getting out from behind the wheel.
“I’ve a message for the baroness from Tatiana North,” said the man, handing a note to Felicia.
The baroness was here, in the house? That made things simpler for Elliot.
“Thank you, Tev,” said Felicia. “You may wait here this time. I imagine she’ll want to return soon.”
The Post nodded and looked pointedly at Elliot. “There might be a riot on the North estate tonight, ma’am. Word has spread about what your father did. Have you spoken to my mistress yet?”
Elliot’s hands flew to her cheeks. “A riot? No, there mustn’t be.” Not with all the Luddites there. They had pistols, and they’d be obliged to go to her father’s aid. Things could get messy, very fast. With a flash of horror, she remembered Benedict’s prediction of revolution beginning at a bad estate. Would it be the North lands? And would Benedict be on the side of the Luddites? “Please, talk to the Posts on my behalf. Tell them to be patient . . .”
And what? She’d fix everything? She couldn’t promise them that. She hung her head.
And then she felt a hand on her shoulder; warm, firm fingers that comforted as well as a hug. “There will be no riot.” Felicia’s voice floated above her. “I’ll go speak to the North Posts if you want, Elliot. We can avert several acts of violence today.”
“What do you mean?” Elliot looked at her in confusion. The driver Tev had returned to his sun-cart and was out of earshot.
Felicia hesitated. “I should not have spoken. You have already dealt with too much today.”
Elliot laughed mirthlessly. “Yes. Inheritance, banishment, a marriage proposal . . .”
Felicia raised her eyebrows.
“From Benedict,” Elliot clarified. “As soon as he heard my grandfather’s will. Apparently, it was never the North estate he wanted.” She sighed. “And the funny thing is—”
“Do you want to marry Benedict?” Felicia asked, her tone a little hard.
“No.” Firm. Definite. She didn’t want to, but it might be the best way to help the people on the North estate. Still . . . “I don’t love him. And I don’t think I can trust him.”
“You’re right not to trust him,” said Felicia. “May I tell you something in confidence? Something I would only tell you in the interest of helping you right now?”
“You may tell me anything if it will help me.” Elliot was desperate. And in return, somehow she’d find the words to tell Felicia everything, too. Weeks ago, she hadn’t been brave enough to share confidences with Felicia. But now, with the fate of everyone on the North estate in question, she’d have to cobble together enough confidence to listen to the older woman. Through Kai, Elliot had learned so many of Felicia’s secrets, and she’d been able to accept them all. It wasn’t too much to hope that Felicia would do the same.
Felicia took a deep breath. “Baroness Channel is here to talk to the Phoenixes. I begged them to give this method a chance before taking out their grievances in a way that could get them hurt—or endanger our mission.”
“Their grievances? Against Benedict?”
“You are aware, I suppose, of some of the more . . . unsavory things that happen in the Post enclaves.”
“More unsavory than human experimentation?” Elliot asked, her tone pointed.
Felicia’s response was utterly serious. “Much more. Not all the stories about the Post enclaves are propaganda designed to keep estate Posts from running away. Some of them, unfortunately, are true. There are bad people there. People who take advantage of those who have no one to turn to. Benedict North is one of those people.”
Something soured in the pit of Elliot’s stomach. And when Felicia went on, she found that she felt no surprise.
Felicia led her over to the chairs set up against one wall of the porch. Nearby, a small table held a pot of tea on a sun-warmer, and Felicia poured them two cups. “I told you once that Andromeda Phoenix was not used to life as a Free Post.” When Elliot nodded, the older woman went on. “That’s because despite leaving her estate as a young child, she hasn’t been a Free Post for very long.”
Elliot’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with Benedict?” Benedict, who’d proposed to her not an hour ago, who’d told her he wanted to support the Posts, who might be her only chance of rescuing the people she cared for most in the world.
“The Phoenixes—they were Ann and Don then—they were children. They had nothing. They had no one. It was nearly impossible for Ann to find someone who would hire her. I’ve seen so many of these children, Elliot. They’ve made me desperate offers.”
“You’ve accepted some of them!” Elliot couldn’t help but say. Felicia had experimented on Kai and the Phoenixes, and who knew how many other young Posts.
Felicia nodded gravely. “Yes, I have. Everyone who came to me knew the risks of what we were doing, and the benefits if we were successful. It’s a dangerous job, but it’s not an exploitive one.”
But she couldn’t be sure of that. None of them could. She might have doomed them all, unless they never married, never had children . . . Tatiana was right there. The Fleet Posts thought they were invincible. Posts always had Post children. But that was thanks to the protocols.
And maybe Tatiana hadn’t been the only member of her family who was right. Perhaps her father had been right, too, so many years ago. The sourness in her stomach grew, like a bit of rot that could infest an entire bushel of fruit. “What was Benedict’s offer?” she asked Felicia, though she could already guess.
“You must understand,” said Felicia, “Ann was very desperate. And her brother—he was so young—and he was starving.”
She’d been so quick to believe Benedict when he’d said her father had made up everything about his banishment. It made sense. It was something she could easily imagine her father doing.
But that didn’t mean it was true.
“There is a house in Channel City,” Felicia was saying. “It is filled with young women. Little girls. Posts, mostly, but there are Reduced as well. Benedict worked there. It was his job to find new recruits.”
Elliot shuddered.
“He was perfect for the position. He was young, and handsome, and charming, and he pretended to be a Post, just like them. Called himself Ben.”
“Stop,” Elliot whispered. “I don’t need to hear anymore.” Of course he needed her help getting the North workforce to stay. An eight-year-old rumor was bad enough. But news of this business?
“Their work contracts, however, merely bonded the runaways into service to a new Luddite. And unlike the lords of the estates, these masters did not tolerate runaways,” Felicia finished, her face drawn. “Andromeda has never trusted a Luddite since.”
“Though I seem to be alone in that,” came a voice from behind them. Elliot turned to see Andromeda in the doorway, her face pale and drawn, her glittering blue eyes red and swollen with tears. “First you send me off to tell my sob story to the dragon lady, and then you spill everything to the princess.”
“Andromeda, I’m so sorry . . . ,” Elliot began.
She snorted. “Pity from you? Save it. You’ve been harboring him a few kay away for a month.”
“I didn’t know . . .”
“No one knew,” said Donovan, appearing behind his sister. “Until the race, no one had any idea that ‘Ben’ was Benedict North. Only Andromeda had ever seen him.”
So that’s why she’d been crying at the race. Elliot could imagine the shock the Post must have had to realize how close she’d been to her old tormentor. To realize that he was the heir to the North estate.
For Darkness Shows the Stars Page 25