There was a loud rumble from the crowd. People were rising to their feet confused and disgusted. Lily could see some beginning to storm out, while others sat in surprise or shock. But as she looked up, she could see one figure unmoving. Mark still sat, waiting. He could tell that she hadn’t finished. Theo told her that sometimes she got a look in her eye that no one could turn away from, and she used this in the court now. People stopped, silenced, giving her their attention.
‘I know that you’re shocked by this. Perhaps it isn’t the way of Agora. But remember –’ she flung her hand towards the unrepentant Pauldron – ‘that was what he said. That was his justification for thinking a life was worth nothing. We believe life is worth more than anything. There can be no middle ground.’
Lily paused, drawing the silence into her before letting her voice resonate out. ‘So, do you want to live in his Agora or ours?’ she asked, looking around. ‘How much do you value yourselves?’
She sat down.
Lily leaned back, drained, as Lord Ruthven summed up the end of the case. She watched, almost detached, as Pauldron was led out, his expression of blank, implacable hatred still burned into her mind. It was only when a shadow fell across her and she looked up into the patrician face of the Lord Chief Justice that she roused herself. He extended his hand.
‘A most spirited argument, Miss Lilith,’ he said. His voice seemed warm but faintly patronizing. ‘I imagine it has given us all plenty to think about.’
Lily took his hand cautiously, but did not smile back.
‘I will find out the truth, you know,’ she said simply.
Lord Ruthven’s hand tightened on hers a fraction, but otherwise he kept the same determinedly bland expression.
‘Miss Lilith, you know the arrangement. In return for overlooking your invasion of a private meeting house of the Libran Society, you and your friends are not to give any specific mention of what you found there, or any revelations made.’ He withdrew his hand, brushing it neatly on his robes. ‘I have invoked the seal of the Director on this matter. None but he himself can overturn it.’ His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer. ‘The Libran Society has several privileges, including the right to arrest without public trial. Prove yourself a sensible young lady, and do not interfere.’
He moved away, clearly believing that he had had the last word, but Lily jumped up and blocked his way.
‘This isn’t public, Lord Ruthven,’ she persisted. ‘This is just the two of us.’ She looked up at him, folding her arms. ‘Tell me, what is the Midnight Charter?’
Lord Ruthven recoiled, then shook his head.
‘Good day, Miss Lilith,’ he said, pushing past her.
She grabbed at the sleeve of his robe.
‘What could be in it that is so terrible it drives men mad?’ she hissed.
Lord Ruthven stopped and gave her a strange look, almost one of fear. Then, very deliberately, he unhooked her hand, flinching as if her touch caused him physical pain.
‘Think about your own question, Miss Lilith. There are some things that are a curse to know, some secrets that must be guarded. Look at the effect that this knowledge had on the sergeant.’ Ruthven looked her in the eyes, and Lily felt it again, a strange mix of fear and steely resolution. ‘I shall not warn you again, Miss Lilith,’ he continued, ‘but if you believe nothing else, believe me when I tell you this – I am protecting you. One day, perhaps, when it no longer matters, you will find the answers you seek. And when you see what could have happened, when you understand what you might have become, you will look back on today and thank me for sparing you.’
Without another word, he walked briskly away. Lily had the strange impression that if he could have run without damaging his dignity, he would have done.
Lily glanced around. Most of the court was empty now. She saw Benedicta waving from the exit. Some of her old sparkle had already returned and Lily couldn’t help waving back. Time for everyone to put their everyday masks back on. Behind Ben, she saw the Sozinhos waiting, and remembered how she had to thank them – without their influence, the Almshouse would never have been able to open again so rapidly.
Then she saw someone else she had to talk to. She caught him just before he left, sidling out of the building.
‘Mark!’ she called.
He turned, his eyes haunted, and shuffled back towards her. He stuck his hands into his pockets.
‘Thanks for not saying anything,’ he said after a moment. ‘About me, I mean.’
‘It didn’t seem important any more,’ Lily mused, also feeling strangely awkward. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Mark. In a way, he was right; he hadn’t been responsible. And yet… he had still betrayed her. He was the reason they had closed the Almshouse.
‘Even so, thanks,’ Mark insisted, trying to sound gruff. ‘You didn’t need to help me.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Lily agreed, and looked at him curiously. ‘But everyone deserves another chance.’
Mark nodded, his eyes flicking away to the door. Lily wondered if he had listened to her speech. She had felt almost as if she had been speaking directly to him. She knew that if he apologized, she would forgive him at once. She cleared her head. Now was not the time for this, she had to tell him something.
‘Mark,’ she said, low and urgent, ‘be careful. It wasn’t only me that Pauldron was after. He wanted you too.’
Mark jumped, alarmed.
‘Me? But… I thought you said… I mean… I’m nothing to do with the Almshouse…’
‘It wasn’t just that.’ Lily glanced over her shoulder, to see if any receivers were close by. ‘It’s the Libran Society, they’ve got this document… Pauldron thought it was something to do with us.’
Lily flailed her hands. The truth was that she had understood very little. Not for the first time she wished she had managed to keep those few charred fragments of the Charter. She grabbed Mark’s arm and looked him in the eye.
‘Just be careful, all right. This is bigger than us. Bigger than our differences.’ She leaned closer. ‘I’ll let you know if I find anything out. Will you look as well?’
Lily saw fear and indecision flicker across Mark’s face. But then he nodded.
‘It’s a lot to take in,’ he said quietly, ‘but I’ll try.’
Mark moved away, pausing in the entrance. Behind her, Lily heard Benedicta calling. There was much to do now the Almshouse had reopened.
Lily didn’t move. She stayed staring at Mark, wondering what he was thinking.
For a moment, a look passed between them. It wasn’t quite the same as before – not the friendship that had endured even when they had seen so little of each other in the months before Mark’s ball. But as they drew apart, Lily got the impression that, if they had ever been enemies, they weren’t any longer.
It was an oddly comforting thought.
Interlude Three
The wine is dark and oily. It sits in the three glasses but reflects no light.
‘Come, Miss Rita, join us in the toast.’
It is not a command. The Director never needs to command. Cautiously, she takes the glass from his desk and raises it to her lips. The taste is sharp, acidic, but she hides her wince. The Director holds his glass up to the light of the candle, but only a murky glow shines through. As for the third figure, he sips silently. Miss Rita shivers. She wishes he would make a sound.
‘An ancient vintage, Miss Rita,’ the Director says, a faint smile on his thin, dry lips. ‘It was laid down in our cellars the day our city was founded. Can you imagine such a length of time?’
Miss Rita purses her lips and glances again at the third figure. He meets her gaze and smiles. He too knows that this is not a question that requires an answer.
The Director puts down his glass, the wine untouched.
‘Undrinkable, of course. Wine does not mature at the same rate as cities. Nevertheless, I feel that our founders would expect a symbolic gesture as we approach the fruition of their finest project
. All is prepared, Miss Rita?’
‘Yes, sir. The arrangements have been made.’
The Director brushes his lips with the tip of one finger.
‘Then you know your role.’ He turns to the third figure. ‘You, too, are prepared to honour our agreement?’
The figure nods.
‘With pleasure, sir.’
‘I don’t doubt it. But do be swift. Mishaps would be –’ the Director frowns, his face becoming a mass of shadows in the candlelight – ‘regrettable at this stage. Ruthven looks at this office with hungry eyes. It would not do to please his supporters. Already they are calling the destruction of one of our copies of the Charter a bad omen.’
For a moment there is silence, broken only by the ticking of a clock lost somewhere in this vast, ancient space. Miss Rita raises a hand to her mouth and coughs. The Director looks over to her.
‘Quite right, Miss Rita, you have work to do. Please, leave us.’ The Director turns back to the other figure. ‘We have much to discuss.’
‘Of course, sir,’ Miss Rita says.
She is only too glad to retreat to her own office, back into the world she understands. She is a woman who keeps many secrets, but they still make her uncomfortable.
The door closes behind her. The Director leans forward.
‘Now then, Mr Snutworth, it is time for you to act.’
Snutworth puts down his empty glass and smiles.
Chapter Twenty-one
THE FALL
Mark sipped tea with as much daintiness as he could manage.
The businessman in him knew that Cherubina was bound to him now by the strongest of contracts. Short of leaping up and striking her a blow with the teapot, there was very little he could do that would make her break things off, and even then her mother would probably talk her out of it. Nevertheless, he found himself making an effort to fit into her world. In his business life, he stood up straight, inflating himself in the eyes of the world, but here he hunched in the delicate chairs and tried to smile, like the doll of him that sat on his left.
He became aware that Cherubina was talking again.
‘… don’t know how you manage up at that tower, with barely a servant to wait upon you. The orphans are very useful, of course, but I don’t like to have them hanging around, and no servant can ever make tea properly. They’re all far too fond of the stronger stuff, if you know what I mean…’
She laughed at a pitch that made Mark wince.
‘It’s not so bad,’ he said. ‘Snutworth’s a reasonable cook, and it’s only until the next deal comes in.’
He stopped, realizing that Cherubina was simply not paying attention. She appeared to be dabbing the mouth of a stuffed bear. This time he wasn’t particularly annoyed. He was rather hazy himself on why he had had to fire most of his servants. Snutworth had said there had been another downturn.
Not surprising really. As the nights got longer and summer had faded into autumn, however, he had expected his business to increase. But the stars didn’t seem to come together as they used to. So often he looked up there and found himself gazing at blackness rather than spots of light. Even this year’s prediction at the Grand Festival over a month ago had hardly set the crowds ablaze. There had been no prodigy this year.
‘Only one year,’ Mark muttered to himself. ‘Feels like a lifetime.’
‘Mmm?’ Cherubina asked, looking up, her blonde ring-lets falling in her eyes.
Mark smiled.
‘Nothing, um… dear…’
The future had certainly looked bright then. Back when he was starting, when his new life was full of excitement. Of course, every businessman had their bad days, but there was no denying the fact that people no longer looked over when he entered a room. His new businesses were good, but not spectacular; his life was depressingly predictable. Even Snutworth’s investigations into Lily’s so-called ‘Libran conspiracy’ had achieved nothing, except to lose him the good opinion of Lord Ruthven, who had broken off contact with him only a few days after the Almshouse was reopened. A few weeks short of his fourteenth birthday and he was rapidly becoming old news.
He felt a hand resting on his shoulder and looked up. Cherubina playfully flicked a strand of his own dullish blond hair out of his eyes.
‘Now then,’ she said coyly, ‘my Mark can’t be sad.’ She pushed a plate under his nose. ‘Not when there’s cake with icing!’
Mark stared at her eager, shining eyes and laughed. It was ridiculous. It was childish. He was engaged to a girl who seemed never to have advanced beyond the age of seven and had barely seen the world outside her front door.
Still, the cake looked good. He picked it up and took a bite.
And, he had to admit, it was a relief, occasionally, to talk to someone who cared about things other than business. Sometimes he felt like the only real thing in Cherubina’s world.
‘You’ll stay for dinner?’ Cherubina added eagerly. ‘Mummy wants to celebrate. She’s just sold a new batch of workers to the paper mills…’
Mark shook his head hurriedly.
‘I’ve got to get back to the tower. Snutworth is going to bring me the latest figures.’
He stopped. Cherubina had turned away. There was something new in her expression, a kind of distaste. It made her look more her proper age somehow.
‘I wish you wouldn’t let that servant of yours come round here,’ she said, fiddling with one of her many bracelets. ‘I don’t like the way he looks at me.’
Mark blinked. The image swam before his eyes for an instant, before it collapsed.
‘Snutworth?’ he said incredulously. ‘He’s old enough to be your father! Anyway, I’ve known him for ages. He’s not interested in anything outside of trading.’
‘That’s just it,’ Cherubina said, still twisting her bracelet, not raising her eyes. ‘You’re not the first potential husband, Mark. I’ve been looked at a few times by older men than him. It’s not so bad.’ Distractedly, she began to comb a doll’s hair. ‘What do you see when you look at me, Mark?’
She looked up and Mark took a moment. He saw a young woman still pretending to be a girl, wrapped in frills and lace and ringlets. But this time, there was nothing playful in the set of her shoulders. Mark bit his lip. He didn’t want to get the answer wrong and, to his surprise, he found that it was because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
‘You,’ he said, already wincing, prepared to be told that it was the wrong answer.
Instead, Cherubina smiled, but more sadly than he would have thought possible.
‘Snutworth doesn’t see me. He sees the room,’ she said.
There was a jangling of the bell and Mark got up.
‘That’ll probably be him,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I’ll meet him at the door.’
Cherubina nodded, rising also and proffering her hand. His mind elsewhere, Mark took it to kiss, a strange ceremony but one they had been told to observe.
Her hand was colder than usual and, as he pulled away, she held him back.
‘You’ll come again tomorrow?’ she asked.
Mark almost began to put it off, as he always did, explaining about the pressure of constant trading. Instead, he found himself nodding, gently releasing her hand. Despite everything, despite the giggling and the dolls and the silliness, he had started to like this strange girl. She might have wealth that his family could only have dreamed of, but in the end she was being sold by her parent, just as he had been.
He stepped backwards out of the room. For one moment, Cherubina was framed in the doorway, her look haunting. Then, the next moment, it was closed and he was walking along a dark, drab corridor, everything as it always was.
Mark didn’t stop when he reached the open front door. He felt Snutworth falling into step beside him as they made their way through the streets.
‘What’s the report?’ Mark said, drawing his coat round him against the chill wind.
‘Not as bad as we had predicted, sir,’ Snutworth said, his
tone as respectful as ever.
Mark sneaked a glance at him. Although he was by now nearly the same height as his servant, he still had to fight the urge to look up. It didn’t matter what the contract said, he relied on Snutworth to be more than an organized assistant. He searched for something different in that concentrated frown, looking down at the papers in one hand, or for even the slightest change of beat, as he tapped his silver-handled cane, his one vanity, on the ground with each step.
There was nothing, no difference. Snutworth was Snutworth, as he had always been, working invisibly and essentially.
‘The jewellery trade is going well?’ Mark asked.
‘The Grand Festival is a good time of year for them. The news is positive from that front. And the fishing has seen an upturn…’
Mark saw a flicker of midnight blue out of the corner of his eye and let Snutworth’s voice fade into the background. It wasn’t unusual to see receivers moving the drifting crowds along, but he seemed to notice them more and more nowadays. Ever since he had been to that trial and met Lily again. Maybe it was the thought that one of these men had been out to murder him. Yes, he thought, that had to be the reason.
Nothing to do with the ragged figures they were carting away.
Mark shook himself, casting his eyes down on some papers that Snutworth had handed him. He had left that part of his life behind and not even Lily would make him remember it now. He smiled at the freshly stamped contracts before him. If anyone wanted to know what he was worth, they only had to look at these. That was power.
Despite that, he couldn’t help shivering as another receiver patrol passed by. He wanted to share his thoughts with Snutworth, but he knew that the servant would quickly turn the talk back to business.
He thought of Lily. He would write to her. Even if she still didn’t trust him, he really needed someone to talk to – to confide in. Cherubina had proved herself to be a much better person to talk to than he had expected at first, but she had never quite been the same. She never really thought about anything outside her own life. Lily had always been a wonderful listener.
The Midnight Charter Page 24