“We had a deal. An arrangement.”
“A necessary ruse to bring you to me, with the book. I had not imagined you would be quite so … recalcitrant. One would have thought having your home near burnt to the ground with yourself and your mother in it might have been persuasion enough. It seems not. The sham of a bargain, on the other hand, and here you are.”
“Why?” she asked him, shaking her head. “Why do you want it all so much? You have money now, a beautiful wife, a grand house, the social standing you were always chasing. Why can’t you be content? Doesn’t it matter to you at all that your greed is hurting people?”
He looked as if he would give a terse response but for a second or two he paused and seemed to be casting his mind back. “I lived a simple life, once. I was not born into wealth or privilege and I had been content to live as a lowly merchant’s son. My family sold all manner of goods; salt, fine rugs, glass, silk. My father would switch his products according to the demands of his customers. He was an astute man of commerce, yet we were ever only a single poor transaction or one bad debt away from penury or ruin. It was a precarious existence. After my father’s death I became head of the business but had not any hope of advancement. I wished to marry, and would have done so, but politics at that time were apt to trample underfoot those who played only small parts. I lost the only woman I had ever … will ever love to the shifting tides of political powers. A monarch who took against her family religion. A nation thirsty for the blood of others to make themselves feel safer. Only my own cunning kept me alive. I vowed I would rise up and never again be so vulnerable to the whims and wishes of others. I would claw up the rocky face of society to a pinnacle from which I would not be moved. When I discovered my ability as a Spinner, and when I found my astrolabe, I saw the path to true power, the nature of which would never be challenged.” He returned the astrolabe to his pocket and held out his hand. “Give me the book.”
“And then you will tell me where you are hiding Evie?”
“I will. You have my word.”
“That has not proved worth a great deal, now, has it?”
“It is all I am prepared to give you.”
She nodded, her heart pounding. She knew she was taking a huge risk, but could see no other way. Her hand shook as she passed him the book, shaking away the whispered voices that had set up urgent entreaties, warning her not to trust him, counseling against the very action she was taking. At the point where they both had hold of it she said, “At least let me look at the astrolabe. One last time. I know you will only lead me to Evie if you have both it and the book, even so, I should like to see it again. It is, as you said, a wondrous thing.”
Slowly he pulled the book from her grasp. For a moment it looked as if he would refuse her request but pride overruled his caution, just as she had hoped it would. He took out the astrolabe again and handed it to her. He pulled the book to him, hunching over it in a way that was both possessive and protective, as he could wait not a moment longer to look inside. He unwound its wrapping and opened the book, his stooped body shielding it from the worst of the rain. Xanthe took a step backward as she watched his expression change from eager anticipation to shock and rage.
“What trickery is this? There is nought but empty pages!”
“You knew this might happen. I warned you. You were just too arrogant to accept that the book wouldn’t trust you,” she told him calmly. “It will only share its secrets with those who will use them well.”
“I need the astrolabe to see them! That is all.”
“That might work,” she agreed, taking another small step back. “More likely you need someone who can read what is there. Someone like me. But then, why would I help you?”
As she spoke she reached under the collar of her dress and pulled out her gold locket. Fairfax, realizing what she was about to do, lunged forward. Before she could make the transition toward home he had grabbed hold of her. She knew there was every chance he would travel with her unless she could shake him off.
“Let me go!” she shouted, twisting to free herself, the rain still beating down upon them both, the noise of it louder now. Fairfax had her arm in a grip so tight she could feel his nails digging into her flesh through the cotton of her sleeve. She kicked him smartly in the shin, making him shout out, the sharp pain briefly diverting his attention from the book, which she batted from his grasp. He cursed as he dropped it and she seized the moment to try to free herself, but still he held firm. She wrenched her arm backward, fighting to get away from him, causing him to lean forward to maintain his grasp. Which was what, ultimately, caused them both to topple over the top of the low wall. His weight, pushed against her smaller, slender frame, unbalanced her, so that together they tipped over the castellation and plummeted toward the lake.
The fall was so sudden and so disorienting Xanthe did not have time to register fear. Instinctively she tightened her grip on the astrolabe in her left hand, but falling headfirst confused her, making her reach out for the water she knew was coming, so that she let go of her locket. It was still fastened to the chain around her neck, but she must have hold of it to return home. She took a deep breath the instant before she plunged through the surface of the lake, hearing Fairfax cry out as they did so. She felt herself free of him then. The height of the drop meant that she continued down, down, down to the very bottom of the lake, landing among the long, grabbing weeds Evie had warned her of. She swam for the sunlight, fighting against the water as it dragged at her sodden clothes. Beside her, Fairfax was also struggling, the weight of his boots and spurs and thick jacket greatly hampering him. Even so, he reached out and grabbed her ankle. She kicked wildly, aware that she had little air left, little time to escape. He pulled at her, dragging her downward when she needed desperately to be going up. He reached over and clawed at her hand, trying to take the astrolabe. She saw then that he would never let it go. She took hold of her gold locket again, knowing that she was not strong enough to free herself and reach the surface in time. Her only hope was to spin home. Fairfax’s grip on her ankle was impossible to shift. He looked at her then, his face contorted with fury, determination, and hatred written in every furrow, every line that bitterness had drawn over many long years. The device meant everything to him, for he could not imagine life without it.
Xanthe wrenched her hand away from him and with all her strength flung the astrolabe away. Away from herself, and away from him. The weight of the brass caused it to fall deeper at once. Fairfax let go of her and plunged after his treasure. As Xanthe clutched the locket and thought of Flora and the blind house and home, her vision faded, and with it the disappearing figure of Fairfax swimming away from her.
* * *
The transition was abrupt, as if affected by the heightened danger and very real peril from which she was escaping. Xanthe arrived in the blind house gasping for breath and coughing up water, her sodden clothes heavy against her shocked and chilled body. Without a moment’s hesitation, she felt around the gritty floor for the wedding dress, which lay exactly where it had been as she left it to travel back before. She took hold of it, her voice trembling as she said aloud, “Take me back! Take me to Petronella and Liam!” There was a brief cacophony of shouts and cries, accompanied by the shrill whine of the wedding dress, and suddenly she was there again, on the bank of the lake, where the torrential rain still fell. She had returned as quickly as she could but still had no way of knowing how much time had passed. The fact that the storm was not yet spent gave her hope that she not been absent long at all. She scanned the lake, looking for sign of Fairfax, but he was nowhere to be seen. She heard shouts. Someone calling her name above the shimmering sound of the rain stinging the surface of the lake.
“Xanthe!” Liam came running from the folly toward her. “Xanthe!” he shouted again. As he reached her he fell to his knees beside her. “Dear God, look at you! What happened?”
She sat up, struggling to find her voice, seeing now that her wet clothes had pi
cked up the loose dirt from the floor of the blind house. Her hair hung free and matted, and there was weed from the lake tangled in it.
“I’m all right,” she said, still coughing. “Fairfax … where is he? Have you seen him?”
“No. He gave us the slip while we were out looking for Evie. I knew you’d arranged to meet him here but I didn’t know when. When I got here I saw his horse. I found the book at the top of the tower.”
“Is it safe? He hasn’t taken it?”
“It’s here, look,” he said, pulling it out from beneath his jacket. “Here, see?”
She snatched it from him, holding it close, overcome with relief that it was still there.
“Xanthe,” Liam asked gently. “What the hell happened?”
“We fell…”
“Both of you? Did that bastard push you?”
She shook her head. “He was trying to get the astrolabe. I was trying to take it home.…”
“You’ve been back? To your house?”
“Yes, but, I had to let it go … in the lake.” She pointed toward where she and Fairfax had fought. To where she had thrown the astrolabe into the deep, knowing it would lure him away from her. “Where is he?” she asked again, struggling to her feet. “We have to find him.”
“We should get you back to the house, you’re in no condition to stay out here. You’re shivering. You were lucky you didn’t break your neck, a fall like that.”
“No!” She stepped away from him, desperate to make him understand but too shaken to make sense. “I have to find the astrolabe and I have to find him! He took Evie. He’s the only one who knows where she is!”
“Shit! OK. OK. We’ll look for him together. Come on.”
“I’ll go this way. I can use the bridge to circle the bottom end of the lake. You go around the folly.” As she ran, all she could think about was that if he had drowned they would never find Evie and it would be her fault. She kept her eyes on the water, slipping on the newly wet bank more than once. There was not a sign of him. The only thing that disturbed the surface of the lake was the pitiless rain. She worked out she could only have been back in her own time a matter of minutes. Enough time for Liam to get to the folly. Plenty of time for a person to drown. Or to swim to the bank, haul himself out, and … what? His horse was still where he had tied it. More tellingly, the Spinners book had been where he’d dropped it up on the parapet of the folly. By the time Xanthe reached the little wooden footbridge that spanned the point where the stream entered the lake she knew Fairfax must be dead. He would never have left the book he had risked so much to possess. The only other possibility was that he had managed to catch the astrolabe and, as she had done, had traveled through time in order to save himself. She stood on the bridge, leaning over the handrail, squinting through the rain at the lake. She half expected to see his body, facedown, floating lifelessly upon the water. What she had not expected, what caused her to cry out, was the sight of Fairfax looking up at her from no more than three feet below the surface. His pale hair spread out and floated behind him as the gentle current tugged at it. His eye patch was still in place and his one good eye was open, bulging, staring in horror. His hands were reaching up, drifting slightly this way and that, having failed to pull him up to that vital air. Xanthe peered down further into the depths. Now she could see that the long, sinuous weeds had wrapped themselves around his heavy boots and snagged upon his silver spurs, catching him in a deadly trap. Of the astrolabe there was no sign. Had he reached it he would have been able to save himself, so she concluded it must be lost in the silt at the bottom of the lake.
She stood up slowly, exhausted now by her experiences, appalled at the thought that she had put Evangeline in such peril. Suddenly, as if acknowledging the somber moment, the rain stopped. A silence replaced it that felt as heavy as the storm clouds that were now lifting and moving away.
“Liam!” She called to him, signaling, bringing him running from the far end of the lake. “He’s here!” she shouted. And then, more quietly, as if telling herself something that she was finding hard to take in, “Fairfax is dead.”
19
Liam rode to get help and returned quickly with Henry, the carriage driver, a groom, and a footman. They brought with them a small cart. Henry, Liam, and the young groom stripped to their breeches so that they would not be hampered by heavy wet clothes. Henry held his hunting knife and the trio swam over to Fairfax. Henry dived down and cut him free of the weeds. Together they floated his body back to the side of the lake and the others helped to haul his body out. They lifted him onto the back of the cart and covered him with the horse blanket they had brought for the purpose. Xanthe could not help thinking it was an inauspicious end for someone who had cared so much about how he appeared to others and what they thought of him. She did not feel sadness at his death. On the contrary, she felt relief. They were all safer with him gone, and he could no longer twist and misuse his Spinner’s gift. The inescapable fact that tormented her, however, was that now she could never make him tell her where Evie was. It was up to her to find the poor, blameless girl, who had become another victim of Fairfax’s ruthless ambition. She had to find her and return her to her family.
Henry pulled on his shirt and boots. “Pity poor Petronella,” he said. “A bride but for a single night, and now a widow.”
“And Evie…” Xanthe started, unsure how to finish the thought.
Liam put his hand on her arm. “We will find her. We will. Get onto the cart. There’s room in front.”
“I can walk back to the house.”
“No, you can’t. For once, just do as I tell you. I’ll help you up.”
Still holding tight to Spinners, she took the seat next to the driver and the cart set off on its slow journey back to the house.
When they reached the house they discovered Mr. Wilcox there. A messenger had been sent to tell him the news. Petronella was on his arm, standing on the broad steps, looking shaken. The little cart pulled up at the front entrance. Grooms appeared from the stables to take the riders’ horses and Liam helped Xanthe down from the front of the cart.
“You’re shivering. You need to get out of these wet clothes.”
“I’m all right, really.”
Mr. Wilcox left his daughter to walk down to the cart. He lifted the blanket, shaking his head at the sight of his late son-in-law. “A sorry end for such a strong fellow. What made him go near the lake in such a storm?”
“He was looking for Evie,” Xanthe told him. “We both were. I … knew she liked the place.”
She saw Mr. Wilcox shudder, the thought of his younger daughter meeting such a fate as Fairfax horrifying him.
“She wasn’t anywhere there,” Xanthe reassured him. “She will come home. I am certain of it.”
He sighed. “She has taken herself on adventures before now. I pray that this is merely another, perhaps brought about by the … changes at the house. But tell me, how did Fairfax come to be in the lake? Did you see what happened? You too are soaked through.”
“I saw him fall. From the top of the folly. The rain had made everything treacherously slippery.”
“Riding boots have scarce any grip,” Henry pointed out. “And are deuced heavy.”
“I tried to swim to him, but my clothes … the water…”
Petronella let out a gasp. “Oh, my dear friend! You might also have been lost.”
“I am so sorry, Nell.”
“No, no. Do not reproach yourself. Why should you? I myself would not have had the courage even to try.”
Henry put in, “Bad luck, I do say. And him such a strong swimmer.”
Liam explained to them all. “His spurs caught in the weeds. It must have happened very quickly,” he added, seeing the distress on Petronella’s face.
Mr. Wilcox nodded solemnly. “The master of Corsham Hall will be afforded every respect and dignity, as befits his position. For now, our efforts must be entirely turned toward finding Evangeline. Come, Barnes, take
Mr. Fairfax to the back parlor and send a message to the undertakers in Bradford. Have the servants gather in the yard. We must organize a search.”
Xanthe took Liam by the arm and steered him toward the house.
“I need to speak to you alone,” she said.
They went to her room and she set the Spinners book down on the bed. She asked him to undo the buttons at the back of her dress. The cold was beginning to take its toll so that she was shaking quite markedly by the time she took towels and dry clothes and went behind the screen to change. Liam stood by the window, watching the activity below.
“I must go and help them look,” he said.
Xanthe pulled her wet dress over her head and draped it over the top of the screen. She was soaked through to her skin, so she began removing her shift and chemise too.
“They won’t find her,” she told him.
“What?”
“It’s no use. They won’t find her.”
“My God, you don’t think he killed her!”
“No, I’m sure he hasn’t. But, well, it was something he said to me, up on the folly. He told me none of those searching for her could ever find her. It was as if he deliberately wasn’t including me in that. He didn’t say I could never find her.”
“Meaning?”
“He hasn’t hidden her in a place, he’s hidden her in a time. That’s how he could be so certain. He must have used the astrolabe to take her back.”
“But … to when?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t have to make a big journey. To be sure she was secure he’d have to choose a time he knew about and a place that wouldn’t be disturbed. He wasn’t planning to keep her there very long.”
“So, how are you going to find her?”
She emerged from behind the screen. She had removed all the pond-weed and pins from her hair and run her fingers through her wet curls. She had rubbed her body with the towels and felt the circulation returning properly to her fingertips and toes. She had put on a dry underdress. “Pass me the muslin gown from the wardrobe, please,” she asked Liam. He fetched it for her and helped her into it, treating her with real tenderness. He picked up the fine blue silk shawl that was on the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.
The Garden of Promises and Lies Page 27