While Lady Castlereagh whispers to Maya, Lady Jersey is sizing up Tess. The look on Tess’s face makes me nervous. I know that expression, it’s the one she gets right before she tosses me down on the mats in our practice room.
“You’re the young lady from Wales, aren’t you?” Lady Jersey raps Tess’s shoulder with that darned fan of hers. She’s lucky Tess doesn’t snatch it away.
“I was born in Tidenham,” Tess corrects.
“Close enough.” Lady Jersey tilts her head to the side, and her ostrich plume scoots forward almost touching Tess’s cheek. Tess doesn’t flinch. Lady Jersey stares as if she’s a magistrate about to pronounce sentence. “I’ve heard stories about you. They say you’re the young lady who finally lured Lord Ravencross out of his cave.”
Tess stands toe to toe with Lady Jersey, saying nothing for far too long. Miss Stranje presses her lips together apprehensively. Finally, Tess answers. “I should think Ravencross manor is a trifle more accommodating than a cave.”
“Ha.” Lady Jersey grants her a wry smirk. “I suppose it is. I can see why the young man likes you. A pretty thing, aren’t you?” She says this with authority, both of them possessing the coveted dark hair and porcelain skin. She leans closer, searing Tess with a warning glare. “Mark my words, young lady. It takes more than looks to survive. You’ll need wits, too, if you’re to swim in these waters.”
“Careful, my lady. Miss Aubreyson has wits enough.” Lady de Lieven calmly urges her friend to step back. “I’ve heard this one is capable of climbing in through your bedroom window and cutting your throat.”
Tess’s attention whips to Miss Stranje, who stands nonchalantly behind the Patronesses.
“Can she really?” Lady Jersey’s face lights up with newfound respect. “I must say, that would be handy. What else can you do?”
Lady Castlereagh answers for Tess. “She dances very prettily. I daresay she had all the young men at my diplomatic ball eating out of her palm. Quite the lion tamer, our Miss Aubreyson.”
“Very well…” Lady Jersey steps back, knocking into a side table. She quickly recovers and casts a speculative gaze from me on one end of the line, back to Sera on the other. Tapping her chin with one finger, she approaches Sera. “Only two left. You are either Lady Jane Moore or Miss Wyndham.”
Sera sinks into a curtsy. “Miss Wyndham, my lady. Though I think you already guessed as much.”
“So I did. Very good, Miss Wyndham. Now then, tell me, what do I have behind my back?”
Lady de Lieven and Lady Castlereagh close in on each side of Lady Jersey.
“Begging your pardon, my lady?” Sera blinks rapidly. Her shyness causes her shoulders to curl inward. I feel a nearly irrepressible urge to rush to her side and protect her from this inquisition. Unable to stand it another second, I step forward, but Miss Stranje sends me a silent warning to stand down.
Lady Jersey does not relent. “Humor me, child. I’ve been told you’re rather clever at observation. Can you tell me what I have behind my back, or not?”
A test.
This is all a test!
My hands ball into fists. It’s cruel of them to put Sera on the spot like this. Not just her, it is wrong of them to quiz all of us as if we’re children in the schoolroom.
“Think of it as a parlor game,” Lady Castlereagh coaxes Sera.
Sera stares down at the carpet, a shock of her white-blond hair falls across her cheek. I worry she’s going to freeze up and refuse to answer. I take another step forward, but Sera beats me to it and bravely speaks up. “I cannot see through blood and bone, my lady, but I will do my best to give you an answer.”
Remarkable. Sera actually seems to be enjoying their inquisition. The reason dawns on me—finally someone outside of Stranje House is interested in her uncanny abilities. Instead of condemning her, as her family did, these highborn ladies are eager for Sera to demonstrate her talents.
“There are many things behind you.” Sera’s voice lifts, growing stronger, more certain. “The ermine head from your fur collar dangles down your back near your waist. I suspect you have a fondness for a large gray-haired dog, because your pet rubbed up against you before you set out today. A number of his hairs remain on the back of your skirts where you did not brush them away. And I’m fairly certain you’re holding your fan behind your back, along with the small Grecian urn you snatched up from our side table.”
Lady Jersey extends her closed fan to Sera. Looped over the end, dangling by its handle, is a small decorative Grecian urn.
“Well done.” Lady de Lieven pats her gloved hands together in muffled applause. “Admit it, Lady Jersey. She even guessed about that hairy monster you call a dog.”
“Fredricko is not a monster, he’s a dear.” Lady Jersey twists to brush stray dog’s hairs off her satin skirts. “Do another,” she demands, still brushing away hairs. “Tell us what Lady Castlereagh has in her reticule?”
“Yes, do.” Lady Castlereagh quickly whisks her purse behind her back.
Sera plays along with their game. “As I said, I’m no soothsayer. Lady Castlereagh’s bag is thick velvet and well lined, which means I cannot possibly see through it. However, I noticed square corners protruding on each side. Which leads me to believe that, among other things, Lady Castlereagh carries a book with her.” Sera glances at Lady Castlereagh and attempts a hesitant smile.
“Brava!” Lady Castlereagh triumphantly exclaims. She opens her reticule and pulls out a small polished leather journal. “It’s our record book for Almack’s. A list of who we’ve sent vouchers to this year, who we’ve declined, those we’ve banned, and, of course, the rules.” She flips it open and reads. “No alcohol, except for weak ratafia. No gentleman admitted unless properly attired in knee breeches, white neckcloth, a dark long-tailed coat, so on and so forth. You are a marvel, Miss Wyndham.” She pats Sera’s shoulder. “Naturally, we shall send Almack’s vouchers for all of you, straightaway.”
Miss Stranje breathes a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you, my lady. That is most generous.”
“Generous?” Lady de Lieven stands directly in front of me, staring at me with undisguised shrewdness. “I should think it is rather necessary for the work we do. Isn’t that right, Lady Jane?”
The work we do.
Then it is true, we are part of a larger sisterhood of spies. Political intriguers. Or, as Miss Stranje prefers to phrase it, diplomatic aides.
“So it would seem, my lady.” I curtsy and return Lady de Lieven’s intent gaze.
It makes sense now, all the rumors about these women. Lady Jersey holding political discussions in her drawing room. Princess de Lieven with her deep connections to so many heads of state in Europe. Lady Castlereagh married to one of the most powerful men in England. The other two Patronesses they mentioned, Lady Cowper and Lady Sefton, are both from powerful families.
A slow smile twists the corners of Lady de Lieven’s mouth. “So, you’re the one.”
The one?
My face must’ve given me away. Lady de Lieven glances over her shoulder to Miss Stranje. “You haven’t told her.” Her tone is accusatory.
“Not yet,” my headmistress replies.
Lady Castlereagh laces her hands across her broad middle and taps one finger. “I suppose you think it is a trifle too soon?”
“I thought it best you meet her first.” Miss Stranje joins them as they close ranks around me, speaking of me as if I am not staring straight into their faces.
Lady Jersey slaps her fan against her palm. “If you’re right about her, she’ll put two and two together. Daresay, she already has. Haven’t you, Lady Jane?”
I lower my eyes. What should I say? That I believe you influence England’s politics. That you are puppet masters, pulling strings from behind the throne?
“See there. She’s already tumbled to what we’re about. Question is, does she know the part she’s to play?” Lady Jersey chuckles softly. “Oooh, look how coolly she plays her hand. Not a flinch. Not
even so much as a maidenly blush rising up her neck. You’d be a formidable card player, my dear. Usually win, don’t you?”
“I’ve no idea, my lady. I never gamble.” I say this, because it’s what I always say. I hate gambling.
“Nonsense. I knew your mother and father. You have gambling in your blood. I see it in you.”
No! It isn’t true. I am nothing like my parents. “I abhor cards and dice.”
“Cards. Dice. Bah! What do they matter?” She pokes my shoulder with her dratted fan. “Life is a gamble. And this business we’re engaged in … this is the ultimate venture.”
Lady Castlereagh nods gravely. “She’s right, my dear.”
“Of course, I’m right.” Lady Jersey leans in close. Too close. Her rose water is suffocating me, and her blue eyes shimmer with disturbing intensity. “Never forget it, my girl. We don’t stand to lose a few coins in this game. Oh, no, it’s our lives, our hearts, and our country on the table. We are risking everything.”
She steps back. Her chin elevated higher than ever.
“Everything.”
Fourteen
WOLVES AND MEN
Very unorthodox.
The Patronesses do not take their leave of us in the expected manner. No, Madame Cho opens the door and, without so much as a by-your-leave, they all stroll out of the room, heads still bent in conversation with Miss Stranje. I’m determined to hear what they’re saying. All this business about what I do know and what I don’t know has me willing to risk being rude. So I follow close behind, eavesdropping. Sera tries to tiptoe behind me, but I wave her back.
“You’ll need to explain the rest to her soon,” Lady Castlereagh counsels Miss Stranje.
Lady de Lieven glances over her shoulder and sees me spying on them. But she only lifts her eyebrow mischievously, as if the two of us are in on a grand secret. They stand in the foyer and their conversation echoes quite readily to where I’m hiding behind the door, peering through the gap by the hinges. Miss Stranje rubs at her temple. “Yes, but I cannot tell her until I am certain she is fully committed to the work.”
Lady Jersey’s ostrich feather bobs up and down. “Ah, so there’s the real reason. Does she have entanglements?”
“I suspect so. She hasn’t confided in me. Either way, it is a lot to ask of a young woman. She must be willing to give up so much, and as you say, risk everything.”
“The sacrifices are many.” Lady Castlereagh sighs heavily.
Madame Cho glances sideways at our headmistress. “Many.”
Lady Jersey loops her arm through Miss Stranje’s. “Speaking of sacrifices, isn’t it time you put poor Captain Grey out of his misery, and give him his long-awaited answer?”
Miss Stranje rubs her temple. “I can’t. Not yet, not until he retires from the war office.”
Madame Cho nods gravely, as if she agrees with this plan.
Lady Jersey stops abruptly in the middle of the foyer. “But my dear, that is putting it off dangerously long. By then you may be too old for children.”
“Listen to her, Emma.” Lady de Lieven moves to Miss Stranje’s side. “You know I’m devoted to our work. And I love the thrill of running errands for the Tsar and Prince George, but I must confess, I love nothing so well or dearly as my children.”
“Stop pressuring her.” Lady Castlereagh pats Miss Stranje’s arm. “She knows the costs. Some of us are called upon to make these grave sacrifices.” At her stern glance, the other two look away.
“I have my girls.” Miss Stranje swings her hand back, indicating us still in the drawing room. I flatten against the wall out of her view. Tess and Georgie crouch behind the other door, and Maya and Sera are sitting on chairs nearest the foyer pretending to read books.
Miss Stranje protests against the Patronesses’ pitying expressions. “It is enough.”
“Is it, Emma? I do hope so.” Lady Jersey’s tone is kind; even so, one cannot help but hear notes of skepticism and concern. “You look more drawn than I have ever seen you.”
“It’s this latest ploy of Lady Daneska’s.” Miss Stranje lowers her head and I can hardly hear her. “As soon as we get to the bottom of it, I shall feel greatly relieved.”
“As will we all.” Lady de Lieven sighs.
The four of them seem lost in their own thoughts for a moment, until Lady Jersey glances up at the fourth-floor balcony and points. “This is where it happened, you know.” She draws her finger down to the marble near her feet. “Lady Haversmythe landed right here. I fancy there’s still some of her blood curdled between the stones.”
“What a grotesque thought.” Lady de Lieven wrinkles her nose. “I’m sure the poor woman’s blood was scrubbed away long ago. But Emma, darling, why didn’t you encamp with one of us?”
“Yes.” Lady Castlereagh sounds genuinely wounded. “I would’ve adored the company.”
“I doubt it. There are seven of us.” Miss Stranje laughs. “Not to mention the servants and our dogs.”
Lady Jersey perks up. “Do you still have your father’s wolves?”
Miss Stranje glances around to see if any servants are nearby. “Any day now Tromos will have pups.”
“Wolf puppies!” Lady Castlereagh squeaks with delight. “I could’ve kept them in my menagerie.”
“Phfft.” Lady de Lieven waves away this suggestion. “They’d be miserable. My dear Lady Castlereagh, one does not cage wolves. Tigers perhaps, but not wolves. They’d never survive the captivity. Wolves are like men. They must, at least, be allowed the illusion of freedom.”
“Enough of wolves and men.” Lady Jersey shrugs off their discussion. “I suppose it is for the best you rented a house. We ought to keep our connections somewhat ambiguous. The less anyone understands about us the better.”
“You are too kind—all of you. Thank you. I appreciate your offers.”
“Of course.” Lady Jersey bats away the compliment. “But this place—why this place?”
In answer, Madame Cho chuckles. It is a rare sound. If a cat could snicker, that is what it would sound like.
“Owing to the house’s history I was able to rent it at a significantly reduced rate. And—” Miss Stranje adopts the same tone she uses when challenging us to draw a deeper conclusion. “Can you think of a more suitable situation?”
“Oh, but of course! Now I see.” Lady de Lieven joins Cho in snickering. “How very clever. Curiosity will make them attend your ball. There isn’t a soul in the beau monde who wouldn’t come, simply because they are curious about the grisly crime that took place here.”
“Morbid curiosity.” Lady Castlereagh shivers. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen—”
“Nothing out of place.” Miss Stranje does not allow her to go on. “We’d only been here an hour before you arrived, my lady. You know as much as I do.”
“In that case, we ought to leave you to your unpacking.” Lady Jersey bestows a kiss on Emma’s cheek. “The girls are remarkable. You’re doing a splendid job.”
“They’re so young.” Lady Castlereagh tilts her head and glances back at the drawing room. “They remind me of us not so many years ago.”
“Ah, yes.” Lady de Lieven grins and prods Lady Castlereagh. “Do you remember that night in Hamburg? It’s a wonder any of us survived.”
“Who can forget?” Lady Jersey laughs and clutches Miss Stranje’s arm. “I was afraid your father would find out and be furious at us.”
Miss Stranje shakes her head and a smile escapes. “Looking back, I can’t believe we dared such a thing.”
“You and your ideas.” Lady Castlereagh nudges Lady Jersey and clucks her tongue. “It was a terrible risk. You were as reckless then as you are now. Think what might have happened if we’d failed?”
“But we didn’t.” Lady Jersey waves away her scold. “Life is full of risks.”
“Not risks that could topple governments.” Lady Castlereagh brushes out her skirts even though they are perfectly fine.
“Fiddle-faddle,” La
dy Jersey snaps. “You know perfectly well, we had to do something that night.”
“And so we did.” Lady de Lieven urges her friends toward the front door. “Let us hope Emma’s young ladies never face waters as troubled as those.”
Lady Castlereagh bobs along in front of her. “I daresay, from what Emma told us about what happened in Calais they already have.”
I slip out of the shadows to watch them go. Lady de Lieven glances over her shoulder, and grants me a swift wink.
Fifteen
CLOCKS AND COBRAS
We gather in the second-floor library to work. It is no surprise when Alice comes peeking in and offers to bring us a tea tray. Miss Stranje doesn’t look up from the letter she is composing. “No, thank you, Alice. We shall wait for dinner.”
She peeps nonchalantly at the table. I fold the map, obscuring her view. “Very well, miss,” she says. “If you change your mind, I’ll be just down the hall.” Alice glances around the room as if simply passing the time.
“When do they intend to serve dinner?” Georgie glances at the clock. “It’s already five and I’m famished. I shall never get used to these town hours.”
“Me, neither, miss. Torture, they is.” Alice sways nearer to our worktable. “My stomach is always a-rumblin’. Mr. Peterson tells me they don’t usually serve dinner until seven o’clock. I says to him that you all will be wishing it earlier rather than later. I expect he’ll be along any minute to announce the hour.”
“Alice, you are not to advise Mr. Peterson as to our wishes.” Miss Stranje addresses her in a stern tone. “Mr. Peterson is head of the household staff. Remember, you answer to him and to Mrs. Creevy while we are in residence here.”
Alice’s face pinches up. “Yes, miss. Begging your pardon, miss. Thank you, I’ll do my best to remember.” She says this in an irritating singsong I’m-a-good-girl manner and turns to go, but not before an ugly splash of resentment dashes across her features. “I were only makin’ a suggestion.”
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