“God knows, I’ve tried to be responsible, Edward, and instill that in my brothers.” Jared shrugged, staring at Nick.
“You all suffered a loss. Tragedy can often tear a family apart,” Joan said. “As someone who has seen that happen, I can confirm it’s to be avoided, if at all possible.”
“Aye, indeed,” Nick surprisingly agreed. “My apologies, Mr. Dale. I spoke out of turn.”
“Apology accepted. But think on my words.” Mr. Dale nodded and sat down again.
Gregor focused on his uncle in the charged quiet that followed. He’d have seen the silent communication between Dale and his mother throughout dinner. Joan hoped he had a theory about what it meant.
“Well,” Victoria said, “I can only hope Anne and this baby get on a bit better.”
The duke laughed, though it was forced. Victoria was obviously a calming influence on her husband. What kind of pressure, Joan wondered, caused a man that Gregor had described as “stolid” to become combative?
As they finished tea, the dowager duchess kept watch on Mr. Dale with an open intensity that made Joan wonder if the pair were having an affair. Vai was beautiful and full of life and she’d admitted to always liking her husband’s half-brother. And they’d journeyed together.
Was that what Dale had avoided telling Gregor earlier today?
The dinner party finally shifted discussion to the weather. Joan kept an eye on Mr. Dale, hoping for further insight.
“That’s a lovely dress, Miss Krieger,” the duchess said at a lull in the conversation. “Is it your own design?”
“Thank you, and yes, Your Grace.” Joan smiled. Women were supposed to keep to themselves during pregnancy. This was the duchess’s home but, still, she was circumventing the rules. Joan liked her better for it. And she wondered who had made that gorgeous but roomy dress for the duchess.
“I’d rather thought you’d wear something less conventional,” the duchess added. “Comfort and ease of movement has been much on my mind lately, for obvious reasons.”
“You’ve been filled in well on my specialties, Your Grace,” Joan said. “Your dress tonight is lovely and looks comfortable.”
“Yes, it is.” The duchess grinned. “We must talk after dinner. I’d love for you to meet my daughter too.”
“I’d like that.”
A few minutes after that, the meal broke up. The men, with the exception of Gregor and Mr. Dale, adjourned to another room for smoking and drinks, as was customary. Gregor, however, volunteered to escort Mr. Dale to his room.
As Gregor took his leave, he leaned over and whispered to Joan, “Luck with my niece. She’s the only woman here who may get the better of you.”
“I’d rather talk with Mr. Dale. You know, he and your mother watched each other like hawks.”
“Saw that, did you?” He sighed. “Still, it would be impolite to turn down Victoria. And it will give you a chance to meet Anne.” Another pause. “And Phyllis.”
She caught that implication. “Is Phyllis a mage? And a suspect in the attack?”
“Yes, and I hope not. But take her measure, please. You’re best suited to do it, of the two of us. I’ll see you later tonight.”
Gregor and Edward Dale left, with the younger man lending support.
“Were they close before?” Joan asked Vai, who’d come up behind her.
“Edward was often with Gregor when he was young, standing in for Jasper. My husband had many demands on him that kept him from spending more time with his children.”
“And Mr. Dale was good to you as well?” Joan asked.
“Always. He smoothed the way for me with Nick and Jared too.” Affection laced Vai’s voice.
“You must have done something right yourself in winning them over, Vai,” Victoria said, lurching to her feet with the help of a footman. “Jared respects female opinions. One of the reasons I married him.” She smiled. “I think he was secretly thrilled to have a daughter as firstborn.”
“Anne is a force unto herself,” Vai said. “Do come with us, Joan. She has been dying to meet you.”
“Of course,” Joan said. By all means, she thought, let’s meet the entire family. Round out the list of suspects.
Chapter 7
The duchess led Joan and Vai up several staircases in the west wing, taking a slow pace due to her condition.
“Are the brothers usually difficult with each other?” Joan asked as they reached the third floor.
“No more so than other siblings, I think,” the duchess said, catching her breath. “And Jared is under stress lately. I could wish the baby and the battle for the Mage Reform Act had not come at the same time.”
“Ah. I’m unfamiliar with rivalry between brothers or sisters,” Joan said. “I’m an only child.”
“That must have been lonely,” Vai said.
“Not really.” At least, not at first. “There was my mother, the other dressmakers and seamstresses employed by Krieger and Sims, and many of my cousins, of course.”
“And your cousins, do you still see them now that they’re grown?”
A loaded question. Vai might well know Joan’s kin had cut her off. “My cousins are all married now, and their lives are much different from mine.”
“That must be difficult,” the duchess said.
Joan shrugged. “The world changes and we must change with it, must we not?”
“Indeed,” Vai breathed. “Even when changes are far outside what we expect, despite being somewhat welcome.”
Joan suspected Vai had something specific in mind with that comment but could not guess what.
“Whatever do you mean, Vai?” the duchess asked the question out loud. “That sounds wistful for you.”
“I’ve apparently reached the age when I look back and judge the choices in my life,” Vai replied.
“Was it the trip to India?” Joan asked.
“In part. But age adds perspective as well.”
“Hah.” The duchess paused to take another breath. “I think I’d like to do that in ten years—look back on my life, even wistfully. It would mean this child has finally come into the world without any need for me to carry him about.”
“My best wishes for an easy time, Your Grace,” Joan said.
She waved that away. “It’s Victoria. After all, we’re practically sisters, especially with you ‘borrowing’ my dress last year.”
Joan flushed, embarrassed. That dress, which Gregor had acquired for her, had been ruined in the explosion that destroyed Krieger and Sims. No, not acquired. Gregor had taken it from the duke’s London home without asking.
Stolen.
“I hope the replacement was suitable.” One of the first ways in which Joan had used her newfound wealth had been to recreate that dress.
“More than acceptable! I like the way it seems to wrap me up in contentment. Is that some of your magic, Miss Krieger?”
“If you are Victoria, then you must call me Joan. And, yes, that’s part of my magic. I’ve learned that, unconsciously, as I create, some of my power ends up being sewn into the clothing.” Her mother had probably done the same, which accounted for why her dresses had gained a fine reputation so quickly when she’d been young.
“But not a talent exclusive to me, I think. I noticed your dress—” Joan indicated Vai, “—fairly glows with your mage energy.”
“Ah, it’s not in the clothes, but me.” Vai leaned closer. “One of my secrets—letting my power leak to the surface awes people into silence. Served me well early in my marriage and since then, it’s become a habit. And we have guests at Lotus Hall this week, guests who aren’t always respectful of women.”
Vai had so much power to spare that she wasted it on a surface show. Joan was awed all over again.
“Moriarty, you mean?” Joan asked.
“Him and his Metaphysical Society. They’ve always treated me with suspicion, between my gift, my heritage, and my being non-English. Not that it ever mattered to Jasper.”
&
nbsp; “Or Jared,” Victoria said.
“Or Nick,” Vai agreed, but only after a quick pause. “No doubt why I was allowed to assume the role of Anne’s grandmother. Thank you for that, Victoria.”
“You are family,” Victoria said.
This Victoria was a more active person than the reticent duchess at dinner. Do not underestimate her, Joan thought. They halted in front of a door painted white with various childish murals. The nursery.
Vai frowned, concentrating. “Careful as we go in. They’re practicing.”
“I know. I wanted to see how my daughter is doing. I also thought Miss Krieger, excuse me, Joan, might wish to see this.”
Victoria opened the nursery door inch by inch, gesturing Joan and Vai to follow. They entered into darkness. A dark curtain blocked the windows and shrouded the room.
“Breathe, milady, and let your joy flow,” a soft voice encouraged.
A quiet power flowed in the nursery, centered around a small figure standing near a desk.
“It’s not happening!” a young voice said, full of frustration.
“Because you try too hard,” chided the other. “Access to your ability comes from flowing with it, not commanding it.”
The words could have come from Gregor during Joan’s first lessons as a mage. She’d used prayers to center her soul and obtain control of the power that roiled within her, power she had mistrusted at first because of what her mother had done with it. But the prayers—or the concentration—had been answered and now her mage gift felt like a second skin.
But such concentration would be a hard task for a young girl, as it had been a difficult task for young Jamie at Isca.
“Many people use spoken words to concentrate,” the teacher said.
The girl giggled. “All right then.” She took a deep breath and began.
“Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”
At the last word, a glow appeared inside young hands, illuminating the small figure. Joan received an impression of golden hair, delicate features similar to Nick’s, and boundless power, far more than she’d expected in someone so young.
The girl’s eyes flickered open. Her jaw dropped and then she grinned. “I did it!” she whispered, staring at the mage light.
“Of course you did,” said the teacher. “But let it go now, it’s taxing, and we have visitors.”
“But it’s so pretty…” The glow faded.
This girl was a similar age to young Jamie but she had far more control of her gift. Joan almost wished she could grab Cooper and Moriarty and force them to see this.
Curtains flew back and the last rays of daylight streamed into the room. Joan blinked, to adjust her sight.
“Wonderful, Anne!” Victoria clapped her hands.
A grin split the countenance of the girl. “You saw, Mother! Grandmother!”
Anne practically flew across the room and hugged her mother and then Vai in turn.
“We saw indeed,” Vai said. “Well done!”
“Who’s this?” Anne set her hands on her hips.
“This is my new friend, Miss Joan Krieger of London,” Victoria answered.
“Oh!” Anne’s eyes widened. “Uncle Gregor’s friend!”
Joan laughed. “Yes. And that was well done, milady.”
“Thank you, but Miss Dale deserves the credit.”
“A good teacher needs a good student,” Miss Dale intoned.
Anne clapped her hands and the formality disappeared. “Oh, Miss Krieger! I’ve been dying to meet you! What a beautiful dress. How is London? Can you make a dress for me? Is it true you’re going to marry Uncle Gregor? Will I be in the wedding? Will you make me a dress for that? And, oh, this is a glorious day.”
She twirled about the room. Vai laughed. Joan smiled. She had a fleeting image of a life her mother could have led, similarly thrilled with learning how to control her mage gift.
Or one that could have been her own. Might as well as wish for the moon, Joan thought. The only path was forward. Here was one little girl who would always be valued. This might be a glimpse into the future for Joan and Gregor’s children, if they had any. Perhaps that’s what Vai and Victoria had intended with this visit. Not exactly subtle.
But Joan was not entirely certain she wanted children any more than she wanted to be married.
“How old is she again?” Joan whispered to Vai.
“Nine,” Vai answered. “Or sometimes she’s two, and sometimes she seems utterly grown up.”
“You’ve done amazing with her lessons, Phyllis,” Victoria called out.
The governess rose from a couch set under the window. Phyllis Dale resembled her cousin Jared slightly, having in common darker hair and eyes. But her nose was sharper, her cheekbones higher.
Yet she moved with the grace of a Sherringford. Joan wondered how she could appear so serene, with having just been reunited with a father she’d thought dead for a decade. And what did she really think about being employed in a home that might have been hers, under other circumstances?
Working with Gregor had made her cynical, Joan decided. No, life had done that. She was right to be suspicious. Phyllis Dale had the ability to set the trap in the teapot, obviously. And Gregor had not ruled her out as a suspect.
Victoria introduced her to Miss Dale, who had not only lovely manners but wore more of the perfectly tailored clothing that abounded at Lotus Hall. Her cotton dress was serious enough to be severe, though it was as well sewn as the rest of the clothing worn by those in service to Lotus Hall.
Joan glanced around the room. A chalkboard and easel were on the side, near a table and a desk. The walls were decorated with wildflowers, perhaps similar to the ones cultivated on the grounds of Lotus Hall.
“This is beautiful artwork,” Joan said, noting a particularly brilliant flower. Like the paintings in the entranceway, it was vivid enough to be alive. Another kind of magic?
“Thank you, Miss Krieger,” Miss Dale said.
“Joan, please. You’re the artist?” Joan would have expected an artist to display more personal color in her wardrobe choices. Phyllis was hiding part of herself. “You are very talented.”
“She is,” Victoria said, slipping an arm around Miss Dale’s waist. “We’re all proud of her. When Anne is off to school, we’ll also be sending our Miss Dale off to learn from the masters and, hopefully, become one.”
Miss Dale ducked her head. “You are too kind, Your Grace. I had a head start, with lessons from my father.”
That depreciation would never do in one so talented. “Do not belittle your talent,” Joan said. “Too many others will. False modesty will not help you in the outside world.”
Miss Dale’s eyes widened. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Krieger.”
Perhaps she wore this drab garb while on duty. Chasing children around, particularly an energetic nine-year-old, could be messy.
Before Joan could ask about Miss Dale’s other clothing, Anne interrupted. “You haven’t answered one of my questions, Miss Krieger!”
“All right, then.” Joan knelt to be face-to-face with the girl. There was something of Gregor around the set of her mouth. “Yes, I’m your Uncle Gregor’s friend and colleague. We have worked some of his cases together. Thank you for the compliment on my dress. London is a teeming, ridiculous, and glorious mess of humanity, the same as it’s ever been.” Joan took a breath. “I would be pleased to make a dress for you, but you must tell me if you wa
nt it for formal occasions or for everyday wear. As for marriage with your Uncle Gregor, that is a personal question, and I choose to keep it between myself and your uncle.”
“Oh.” Anne stared at the floor, deflated.
It was impossible to dislike this girl. “But if there is a wedding, of course you will be invited and I will make you a new dress, in any case.”
Anne clapped her hands. “A new dress! Wonderful.” She grabbed Joan’s hand and dragged her over to the chalkboard and stack of pencils and paper. “Let’s design it now!”
For the next hour, Joan spent a happy time in the nursery enjoying the company of more women than she’d had in years. She’d been isolated when only just a little older than Anne by what she’d thought of as her father’s erratic temper (and had turned out to be his corruption by her mother’s magic).
Now, she caught a glimpse of a family who showed no sign of disapproving of Gregor’s wayward Jewish mistress. Vai’s influence? But, no, Victoria seemed to treat Phyllis as an equal, to judge by their easy talk.
Yet someone in this room could be wearing a smiling countenance that hid murder.
In the end, Anne decided on a day dress suitable for walks in the garden and outdoor activities. Joan promised the dress would include ease of movement and “unicorn” colors at Anne’s insistence. Unicorns were white, of course, but Joan thought a rainbow of color, such as striking greens, blues, yellow, and purples, would suit the girl.
“I trust you to put it together the best way,” Anne said solemnly.
“I will but I’ll have to go back to London to sew it, as that’s where everything I need is.” Joan smiled.
“And now it’s time for bed, Lady Anne,” Phyllis said. “You’ve had a busy day, especially learning magic. You need rest.”
“Yes, Miss Dale.” Anne sighed dramatically.
“How about I read you Shakespeare for bedtime?” the duchess asked.
That improved the girl’s mood instantly—and explained Anne’s use of The Tempest to concentrate her mage gift.
Joan slipped into the great hall with Vai after the girl went off to her bedroom.
A Hanging at Lotus Hall Page 10