The Echo of Broken Dreams

by CJ Archer

  "You can't judge them all by one bad apple, Gill," Faye said.

  "One is one too many!"

  I let myself out. I hadn't been paid but I didn't expect it for doing nothing. I clutched my bag tighter and didn't stop on the way home. The sky was lighter now, the sun having chased away dawn's shadows, yet Mull felt different. The stone buildings didn't seem as warm, the gutters not as clean, the air not as fresh. Perhaps it was just my own perception, knowing what had happened last night.

  The faces of the people I passed belonged mostly to strangers. Many of them looked desperate, hungry. They would be hoping to find work today after finding none the day before, or the day before that. Desperation to find honest work didn't make a man a rapist. If Ingrid's attacker was the same as Ruth's, then none of the suspects were newcomers to the village. At least we had more to go on with now. Dane only needed to learn which of the suspects had been in the village last night.

  I stopped mid-stride. Brant had been in the village in the early evening. He may not have immediately returned to the palace after leaving my house.

  I adjusted my grip on my pack and hurried home. I got as far as the end of my street before stopping again. Ivor Morgrain walked toward me, head bowed against the breeze. Like an animal scenting its prey on the wind, he suddenly looked up. He seemed as unhappy to see me as I was to see him. Not his prey then, but perhaps his tormentor. Or his conscience.

  Unless one of us turned around, we had to pass each another. I hesitated. It might be daytime, but the street was empty except for the two of us and I no longer trusted Ivor. I couldn't rely on even the nosiest neighbor looking out their window this early in the morning.

  Mistress Grinsten emerged from her house, however, a basket over her arm, her two children dawdling behind. She waved at me and I waved back. One of the children tripped over his shoelace and burst into tears. His mother bent to pick him up and her delay gave me some courage.

  "Ivor," I said, approaching him. "I wish to ask you a question."

  He smiled tentatively. Where before he looked like he wanted to pass me by without so much as a greeting, now he looked keen to talk. "I've always got time for you, Josie. The other day…forget that. I was having a bad day." He drew closer and the smile became more confident. "Want to go somewhere quieter?"

  "This is quiet enough. Where were you last night in the early evening?"

  The smiled slipped. "Why?"

  "I, er, heard you were…you know." Merdu, I wasn't very good at thinking on the spot.

  "With Tammara?" His lips curved into a sleek smile. "Aye, I was."

  "Tammara Lowe?"

  "We've been getting along lately. She heard that you and me weren't together no more—"

  "We were never together. What have you been telling people about us?"

  He crossed his arms. "If we weren't together, then you got to learn not to tease a man. All your flirting meant something, Josie. At least to me," he finished in a mutter.

  "I'm sorry if that's what you thought I was doing. I wasn't flirting, I was just…" I shrugged. "…being myself."

  He scoffed. "I was with Tammara last night. Ask her if you don't believe me. Why do you want to know anyway?"

  "I was curious about what you get up to these days." I pushed past him and hurried home. For a long time, I could feel his gaze boring into my back but I did not turn around. He would have to stay confused about my question because I had no intention of telling him the truth. I had no intention of speaking to him ever again.

  I deposited my pack on my father's desk and left the house again immediately. I wanted to catch Tammara before she went out. Like most unwed girls our age, she did the marketing for her mother and helped around the family home. Very few had jobs outside the home, and if they did, it was usually working in their fathers’ shops or workshops. Tammara's father was a boat builder and her brothers assisted him. She would be at home with her mother now or heading out to the market.

  She lived not far away and I intercepted her as she left her house, a basket over her arm. I expected her to be annoyed if she considered me a rival for Ivor's affections, but she simply looked bemused by my visit.

  "I haven't seen you in some time, Josie," she said. "I'm sorry about your father."

  "Thanks."

  "Are you just passing?"

  "I came to see you." Before I asked my question, I would dispel a myth first. "I've just seen Ivor Morgrain," I said, being as direct as possible. "He tells me you think he and I were a couple. It's not true. We weren't."

  Tammara's dark brow arched. Unlike most Glancians, she had brown hair and eyes, an echo of her grandfather's Dreen heritage. She wasn't as slender as a Glancian either, and was more curvaceous in the places men liked. It meant she was rarely short of suitors, but to my knowledge, she'd encouraged very few. Ivor was fortunate. I wondered what she saw in him.

  "He never outright said it," she told me. "I assumed. We all did. He was always talking about you and saying how he was going to marry you one day." A smile twisted her lips. "Not that I care anymore."

  "You don't?"

  "We're not together. We courted a week or so ago. It didn't last long." She tapped her chest. "I ended it with him, not the other way around." She seemed glad to be rid of him. We had that in common! "I don't doubt it," I said. "I was surprised when he told me about the two of you. He doesn't seem like your type."

  "Nor yours," she said. "I don't know why I assumed you two were ever a couple."

  "Does that mean he wasn't with you last night?" I asked.

  "He was not. Is that what he's saying now?" She fisted her hand on her hip. "The lying little prick. Wait 'til I get my hands on him."

  "Don't do that. Don't tell him I came to see you. He'll think I'm jealous and that'll only make him think he has a hope with me when he doesn't."

  "Fine. I prefer not to see him anyway, but if I hear he's been spreading more lies, I'm going to have to set him straight."

  "Do you think he lied just to make me jealous?" I asked.

  "Probably. He's still keen on you. He's so jealous of that captain." She smiled slyly. "So he should be. The captain's far better looking than Ivor. I wouldn't mind entertaining him for an evening."

  I laughed along with her despite the odd sensation in my chest that I recognized as jealousy. "Where do you think Ivor was last night then? At home? Or does he drink at one of the taverns regularly?" It had been some time since I'd enjoyed an ale with friends at a tavern. Once the newcomers began to arrive in Mull in alarming numbers, my father forbade it. He wasn't the only parent. Few of my female friends had been allowed to continue to drink in taverns these last few months, or walk in the village in the evenings.

  "I think he goes to The Anchor," she said.

  The Anchor was the more reputable of Mull's two taverns. It still had a village feel to it, with mostly locals frequenting it, while The Mermaid's Tail attracted the newcomers since it had accommodation upstairs and out back. It had also gained a reputation for fighting and drunkenness thanks to a few bad apples, as Mistress Swinson called them.

  "He's changed, you know," she went on. "Ivor's not like he used to be."

  "How do you mean?"

  "I used to like him. I used to be jealous of your hold on him, Josie." She smiled wistfully. "That's why I allowed him to court me when he came to me. I suppose I still saw the man he used to be. But I quickly realized he wasn't the same. He's angry, now. He's filled with hate, and I don't like it. He scares me."

  I gave her a grim smile. "He scares me too, nowadays. I saw him at the docks and he became so angry at a migrant whose only crime was to bump me. I thought he'd attack the man. It was awful, and I couldn't get away from him fast enough. He's like a lot of people in the village though."

  "Not all," she said. "Not even that many, I believe. There are certainly a few who hate all newcomers, and they've become very vocal about it. When I learned Ivor was drinking with that group at The Anchor, I wanted to distance myself from hi
m. It's likely he was with them last night, complaining about the state Mull is in. That's all they ever do."

  "Then why didn't he just tell me that?" I asked. "Why lie?"

  She shrugged. "You could check with them. Start with Ned Perkin. Ivor idolizes him. He follows him around like a puppy."

  I thanked her and headed home. I would indeed speak with Ned Perkin and find out if Ivor had been with him last night. If he hadn't, then Ivor was looking more and more like Ingrid's attacker.

  Like Gill Swinson, Ned was a fisherman and wouldn't be in the village during the day. I'd go in search of him later at The Anchor.

  First, I had a message to write to Dane. I had much to tell him, too much to put into a note. I simply wrote: "I need to speak with you. Come when you're free."

  He sent a note back to tell me he would call on me later in the afternoon. I'd just finished reading it when a brisk rap on the door announced a visitor.

  "Miranda!" I said, accepting her peck on my cheek. "What are you doing here?"

  "Sneaking away. We both are." She indicated the carriage waiting on the street. The duchess of Gladstow waved at me through the window. "My parents and her husband don't know we're here," Miranda said. "They think we're out riding."

  I spotted Meg emerging from her house opposite. She took one look at the carriage with the Gladstow ducal crest painted on the door and returned inside with a determined look on her face. It was most curious.

  "Josie," the duchess called out. "Come down here and talk to me."

  "Why don't you come out, Kitty?" Miranda called back with a wink for me.

  The duchess screwed her nose up at the street below. "I'm not wearing the right footwear."

  Miranda leaned closer to me. "She doesn't like the mud."

  "It's not too muddy," I said. "Last night's rain wasn't heavy."

  "Even a little mud is too much for a duchess, apparently." Miranda grinned. "This could be fun." She took my hand and led me to the carriage window. "You must come out, Kitty, or Josie will think you're snubbing her."

  "Oh, no," I said, "I don't think that."

  The duchess's eyes widened in alarm. "I'm not snubbing her! You're wicked for saying so, Miranda. I like Josie very much. It's just that my shoes are covered in the prettiest shade of yellow silk. Yellow, Miranda!"

  "Why did you decide to wear yellow silk for a visit to the village?"

  "I didn't think we were getting out of the carriage. You told me we were going for a drive, you said nothing about traipsing through mud. It's nothing against you, Josie. I would love to experience your country hospitality. You villagers are famous for hearty cakes and the like."

  Not this villager, and certainly not at the moment with the larder so bare. Thank Hailia for a little mud.

  "What a shame," I said in my sincerest voice. "I would be honored by your visit, Your Grace."

  "Do call me Kitty since we're friends now."

  "Kitty," I repeated dully, not quite sure if I wanted to be on informal terms with a duchess. It didn't seem right.

  "You'll have to stay in here, Kitty," Miranda said with an elaborate sigh. "While I enjoy Josie's company inside."

  Kitty pouted. "You're going to gossip, aren't you?"

  "Of course."

  Kitty pouted more.

  I pressed my lips together to suppress my smile.

  The duchess's face suddenly brightened. "I know! The coachman can carry me to the door." Before Miranda and I could say a word, she poked her head through the window. "You there! Driver! Step down and assist me."

  The coachman dutifully did as ordered, leaving the well behaved horses unattended. At Kitty's instruction, he carried her the three paces over the street and gutter and deposited her on the threshold. She smoothed her hand over the full yellow and cream silk skirt and beamed at us.

  "There. Problem solved." She studied her surroundings and I was glad I'd cleaned recently. "What a charming cottage. It's so rustic and full of character. I can't wait to see the reception rooms."

  She'd be disappointed when she learned the house had no reception rooms, only a kitchen. She'd be even more disappointed when I told her I could offer nothing to eat.

  "Josie," Meg hissed from behind the carriage. When had she snuck up? And why was she wearing a cloak in warm weather?

  "What is it?" I whispered, joining her.

  She opened her cloak to reveal something wrapped in a cloth. "It's a cake," she said. "Mama baked it this morning. Take it."

  "I can't take it. It's for your family."

  "She'll make another, and she owes you for seeing my sister at short notice."

  "That was nothing," I said. "It certainly doesn't warrant an entire cake as payment."

  She pushed the bundle at me, but seeing that I wore no cloak to hide it under, lifted my skirts.

  "Meg!" I swatted her hand away.

  "Take it, Josie, or my mother will fret. She hates the idea of you being unable to feed those palace ladies. Who are they anyway, and what do they want?"

  "Miranda was the one who was poisoned a few weeks ago. We've become friends. The other is a duchess."

  "Duchess!" Her huge eyes peered past me. "So that's what a duchess looks like. She's very grand. Her gown is exquisite. Look at the luster! And it's so full. How does she fit through doorways?"

  "It looks neither practical nor comfortable."

  "Who cares for practicality and comfort when you can look beautiful? Here, take this." She shoved the cake up my skirt then directed my hands to hold it in place. I doubted I could fool anyone but Meg didn't seem to care. She turned me around and gave me a little push.

  "Join us," I told her.

  "Hailia, no. Cake with duchesses sounds horrible."

  "Only one is a duchess. Miranda is lovely and funny. You two would get along."

  She shook her head and shooed me away.

  I sighed and gave up. I knew a lost cause when I saw one. "Thank your mother for me. I'll visit your sister later to see how she is."

  I waddled awkwardly back to Kitty and Miranda, waiting just inside the door. Miranda eyed the lump under my skirt with suspicion but Kitty was too busy lifting her own skirts high off the floor to notice.

  "I cleaned only yesterday," I told her as I passed. "So the mice won't disturb us."

  "Mice?" Kitty squeaked. "Is she joking?" she whispered to Miranda. "She is, isn't she?"

  "I don't know," Miranda whispered hoarsely back, "but if you spot a mouse, scream and run to the carriage. Don't worry about the mud. I hear mice detest mud as much as duchesses so they won't follow you."

  I smiled at her over my shoulder. Kitty scowled at us both. "You two are made for one another," she said, following me into the kitchen.

  "Please sit," I said, indicating the kitchen table. "I'll fetch something from the larder."

  "It's all right," Kitty said. "We'll wait for you to show us through to the salon."

  With my back to the kitchen, I removed the cake from beneath my skirt and placed it on a plate in the larder. "This is the salon," I called out. "It's also the kitchen and medicine room."

  "Medicine room?"

  "Where I make up the medicines, ointments, unguents and the like," I said, rejoining them.

  "Delightful," she muttered through a tight smile.

  "Sit down, Kitty," Miranda said as she sat. "A cake? Wonderful. I love cake."

  "What kind is it?" Kitty asked.

  I looked at the cake as I set plates down in front of them. I wished I'd smelled it beforehand but it was too late now. "It's an old family favorite," I said. No need to tell her it wasn't my family's recipe.

  I cut up the cake then made the tea. Despite her initial reluctance to set foot in my house, the duchess seemed to forget where she was once the gossip began. There was no shortage of it and they delighted in passing on the details even though I didn't know the people they talked about. From what I could gather, certain noble families wouldn't talk to one another, while others couldn't even be in the
same room. They told me about the baroness who was so desperate to seem more important than she was that she told everyone she was a countess, and the case where a viscount accused the daughter of a marquis of stealing.

  "I must tell you the gossip about Lady Grenlee," Kitty added with a gleam in her eyes.

  "That's not proven," Miranda chided. "We shouldn't repeat it."

  "Oh pooh. It's only to Josie, anyway." Kitty leaned forward and lowered her voice. "It's said that Lady Grenlee's three children are not her husband's."

  "Who's their father?" I asked, unable to help myself. I didn't know Lady Grenlee, but I suddenly wanted to know about her illicit affairs.

  "Some say it's one of their gardeners."

  "Kitty!" Miranda cried. "Who says that?"

  Kitty shrugged. "People. And Josie, have you heard about Lord Juke?"

  "No, what about him?" I asked, leaning forward too.

  "Apparently he's more interested in his valet than his new young wife."

  I gasped. "Do the authorities know?"

  "Perhaps, but what does it matter? There are benefits to being a nobleman, and one of those is that a count can have liaisons with his valet and the authorities will turn a blind eye." Kitty crumbled cake between her fingers. She'd eaten half a slice and declared herself too full to eat any more but had proceeded to pick it apart instead. "Josie, perhaps you know the answer to something I've been wondering about ever since hearing that story. You are an expert on the human body and its functions. How do two men…you know?"

  Miranda groaned. "Not this again."

  "Well, you wouldn't tell me. You're such a prude. Josie isn't, though."

  "I'm a prude too," I assured her. "Very much so. Speaking of scandals, has Lady Morgrave become the king's favorite?"

  "She has," Miranda said, eager to move the discussion away from Lord Juke and his valet. "They spend a lot of time in one another's company. Kitty thinks they're sleeping together."

  Kitty nodded wisely. "I can tell by the look on their faces when I saw them yesterday. It was quite obvious they'd been for a tumble."