"There's been a death in the human village," he said to the bird. "I will need someone to come and clean up while I handle the humans."
The bird fluttered out the window with his message. It burned through the fog like a beacon as it headed for the forest in search of backup. He headed down the stairs in search of the servants. A house of this size would have at least a cook in addition to a maid. He found the cook in the kitchen. He was fortunate to find her kneading a ball of dough on a floured table. She was a large woman with wide hips and black hair that was tucked into a white cap, though a few scraggly strands fell forward and clung to her scalp, which was wet with perspiration.
"Madame," he said to catch her attention.
"I ain't no madame. What are you doing in my kitchen?" she said gruffly. She did not look up from her kneading and continued to pummel the dough into submission.
"I work at Thornwood Manor; I came on an errand for my master. The girl who answered the door informed me that your master collapsed in his chamber."
At this she did look up at him. Her face had a squashed look to it. Her cheeks were red and rosy, most likely from working over a hot stove all day in this small cave-like room. The heat was sweltering, and there was too much iron. It took much of his self-control not to flee.
"I knew this day was coming. Have you checked him? Is he dead?" she said. She planted thick hands on her hips. Her hands were red and cracked.
"I'm afraid so." Ray nodded with a false solemn nod. "Can you tell me: is there anyone else in the colonel's employ that I should deliver the news to?"
"Just the boy, he tends to a few things around the yard. He lives with his parents down the way. He should be here, now that I think about it."
She paused for a moment to consider and looked to a door that presumably led out into the yard.
"Thank you for your assistance. I shall find him, no need to worry."
He slipped out of the hot cramped kitchen, away from the burning scent of iron and heat. It was bad enough to be inside human walls, but to be in a dungeon of heat and iron, that was hell. He headed back up the stairs that led back to the main floor. When he entered, Dr. Rowan had arrived with the frightened maid.
"Oh, Dr. Rowan, I am glad you're here. It's the colonel. He's collapsed in his study," Ray said. He had been fortunate enough not to have to glamour the cook, but if the doctor saw the body, he would know in an instant. He could not risk not calling the doctor; the more credibility the story had, the less likely the humans would question the death.
The doctor was carrying his medical bag and was dressed in his coat and a button-down shirt with buttons misaligned. He set down his bag and pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his brow. He furrowed his brows when he saw Ray. "I thought you worked for Lord Thornton. You came and fetched me the day Lady Thornton collapsed."
Ray looked at the doctor closer. Part of his survival in the human realm relied on him being unrecognizable to most humans. Unless he wanted them to remember, they forgot his face a moment after they looked at him. The doctor was staring at him in a most peculiar way. Then a light went off in Ray's head. Ah, you've more Fae in you than most people in this village. I would wager at least half. I wonder if you even know what you are.
The doctor was of little concern to him at the moment, half-Fae or not. Ray had a cleanup to attend to, and the doctor was just another item on his checklist.
"I came on an errand for my master when I arrived, Miss--?" he prompted the maid.
"Miss Murine," she replied and gave him a tentative smile. His suggestion spell had left her a bit muddled. She would most likely feel that for the rest of the day; when she tried to recount today's events, they would be hazy at best.
Ray smiled back at her, amplifying his glamour to overlay both the maid and the doctor. "Miss Murine informed me when I arrived that the colonel had collapsed. She was kind enough to fetch the doctor, but by the time he arrived it was too late, the colonel had succumbed to a weak heart. You, Dr. Rowan, shall call the undertaker to collect the body and notify his remaining family."
Miss Murine was smiling and dazed as he gave instructions. Dr. Rowan was fighting against Ray's influence. He could see the doctor warring with himself. He opened his mouth to argue, but Ray's power was greater, and in the end he bent under the force of Ray's magic.
The doctor picked up his medical bag and said, "It is a pity; the colonel was a dear friend. I must write to his sister and tell her the sad news. Good day, Miss Murine, Mr...?" He looked at Ray before shaking his head and hurrying out the door.
If he was lucky, the doctor would forget seeing Ray here at all. He was too close to the Thorntons; if Catherine started hearing tales of him popping up near dead bodies, all his plans would be ruined. Ray headed back up to the second floor, leaving the maid, who it appeared was rushing downstairs to inform the cook about the day's events. In the study there was a blur of activity. Creatures the size of his pointer finger, about two dozen of them, were mopping up the blood and mending windows with tools fashioned out of stones and spiderwebs. They wore clothes sewn together from leaves, and acorns for hats. They worked with surprising speed, given their size. Tabitha the owl was sitting on the desk nearby, watching them as they worked. Her large yellow eyes seemed hungry to Ray. He took a seat in the chair beside her and crossed his legs.
"No one can clean like a brownie," Ray said conversationally.
"They are scrumptious little creatures," Tabitha said with longing.
A nearby brownie squeaked at her and then rattled off a series of insults in a high-pitched voice.
"I'm not going to eat you. I was just commenting on your bite-sized appearance."
Ray laughed. Though it was hard to tell, Ray suspected the tiny creature was scowling at the owl. Tabitha spread her wings and opened her beak and screeched in reply. The brownie hurried away to help his fellows.
"I am surprised they sent you along with them, given your penchant for eating small scurrying creatures," Ray said.
Tabitha rocked back and forth on her makeshift perch, which happened to be a stack of books. "There was no one else available. The forest is getting thinner each day. The other day I was talking to a screech owl who turned out to be an average screech owl. He had no second nature. What has the neighborhood come to?"
Ray crossed his arms and drummed his fingertips on his arm. "I need to bring her to the forest soon," Ray voiced the thought that had been nagging at him all afternoon.
"Are you sure she's the right one? You've been wrong before; remember that maid?"
"Do not remind me," he snapped.
Tabitha clicked her beak in reproof.
He frowned at the brownies that were scrubbing at the stained carpet. He could see the gold and green revealed beneath the blood. "I am lucky the council gave me another chance."
"Are the rumors true? This is your last chance?"
"Yes. If I do not produce, they will strip me of my powers and the gates of the Otherworld will be closed to me for good."
Tabitha hooted sympathetically. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I do not think that woman is the right one. She's too fragile. How will she survive the test?"
"It does not matter if she survives as long as she can release him. That's all that matters."
Tabitha turned her large golden eyes to him. He could sense she wanted to say more, but she was holding back. The brownies had finished their work, besides. The room looked as if no one had been here. All traces of blood and a struggle had been washed away. The colonel's body lay intact on the ground, one hand grasping at his chest as if surprised by a pain. That is how it would appear to the human eye. Anyone with the second sight would see the mangled flesh beneath. I hope the doctor does not have the second sight. I would hate to have to kill him to keep our secrets. It would be a real inconvenience.
Chapter Fourteen
She had rehearsed her speech half a dozen times. Catherine stood before her vanity in her h
ousedress. Her hair was down and falling forward over her shoulders. The dark hair against her skin made it seem even paler and her eyes larger.
"Edward, I want to apologize for turning you away when I was ill. I did not want you to see me when I was so weak; I did not want you to worry..." Catherine recited. She knew it was a flimsy excuse, but she hoped Edward would overlook her behavior and not ask any other questions. It was a big hope.
The door at the back of the room opened, though Catherine did not realize it. She continued her speech oblivious to Miss Larson, who watched her mistress while holding an armful of mended clothing that she had brought up.
Miss Larson scrunched her nose before clearing her throat. "My lady, I've brought up your evening gown. I was able to repair the tear on the hem."
Catherine whirled around and realized she had been caught. Her face flushed crimson.
"Miss Larson, I did not hear you come in."
The maid gave her a blank stare. Catherine considered asking her how much she had heard but decided to pretend nothing had happened. It seemed to be the preferred method of navigating unwanted situations in Thornwood. There was nothing damning in her speech to Edward. I've come to accept the truth, but will Edward? He refuses to believe in the Thorn Dwellers. Maybe Mr. Thorn can shed some light on this situation. He can see them and he spoke to that owl. Maybe he is like I am and he is a human who can see these things... or maybe he is one of them. The very thought rippled through her and could not be dissuaded. She knew these things were real and dangerous, but was she willing to learn more than that?
Miss Larson put away the mended dress and collected Catherine's tea things as Catherine contemplated her situation. At the very least, I think it's time I faced Edward.
"Is Lord Thornton about?" Catherine asked Miss Larson.
Miss Larson's head popped up. "He is, my lady. Shall I call him for you?"
"I would rather have you help me dress. I want to surprise him." She smiled at her maid. Miss Larson returned it with a faint half-smile. It was a triumph in itself. It was the closest she'd come to a congenial response from any of the staff.
Catherine sat down before the vanity. Miss Larson picked up the curling rod and put it near the fire to warm it. "Do you have a request for how you would like your hairstyle, my lady?"
Catherine turned around in her chair to face the lady's maid. "I must admit, I do not consider myself very fashionable. I trust you to design my hair in a way that will look pleasing." As a part of this new chapter of her life, Catherine was determined to be more outspoken and congenial. The staff dislikes me because I have been terrified of them. Perhaps if I try to be better, they will warm up to me.
Miss Larson seemed hesitant; she frowned thoughtfully. Catherine turned back around to face the mirror but watched her lady's maid in the reflection. She removed the curling rod from the coals and brought it over. "There was something I saw in a lady's magazine that I wanted to try," Miss Larson said, but her face looked prepared for rebuke.
"I trust you," Catherine said, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
Miss Larson nodded and went to work. Catherine closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Miss Larson's fingers across her scalp. She felt better than she had in a long time. Miss Larson seemed more relaxed as well. In her continued effort to make herself more approachable, Catherine decided to ask Miss Larson about herself. She had read a lady's etiquette book once as a girl. It encouraged small talk as a means to put others at ease. I am Lady Thornton now. I should learn to be more genteel, like Miss Ashton. Thinking of the other woman only upset her, so she pushed thoughts of the other woman aside.
"Where did you learn to style hair?" Catherine said to Miss Larson to forget her concerns.
"I went to a school in London. My mother saved up from the time I was just a little girl to pay for it." She set down a comb on the vanity as she spoke.
"Are you from London, then?" She could not detect a London accent.
She shook her head. "No. I grew up here in Thornwood; my parents are farmers. They wanted a better life for me."
Catherine was not sure how to respond to that and instead asked, "Do you have any siblings?"
Miss Larson's lips pressed together. "I did. I had three brothers and two sisters. One boy and one girl didn't make it out of infancy. My second oldest brother joined the navy, but he was lost at sea. My oldest brother died in a farm accident."
"I am so sorry for your losses..." Catherine herself had never had any siblings. Her parents had trouble conceiving, and she was the only product of their union. But by Catherine's count, Miss Larson should have had one more sibling. "What happened to your other sister?"
She looked away for a moment, and Catherine wondered if she had asked too private a question. "We do not know. One day she was playing by the forest when she just disappeared. We thought maybe some animal ran off with her... but we never found a body."
A shiver ran up Catherine's spine. This was the true nature of the Thorn Dwellers, she was certain of it. How could she live with the constant fear, knowing they were so close? How could she raise a family in this place? Conversation dried up as Catherine brooded over the problem of the Thorn Dwellers. Miss Larson's mood was dark, and Catherine could not blame her for it. Their brief tête-à-tête did seem to turn the tide in their relationship, and Miss Larson was much warmer to Catherine afterward. She finished Catherine's hair, and Catherine complimented the style with much enthusiasm. Miss Larson picked out a gown for Catherine, a plum and velvet day gown with pearl buttons on the sleeves, and helped her dress.
She thanked Miss Larson for her help and swept down the stairs. She passed the parlor maid, Miss Brown, carrying the silver candlesticks, presumably for polishing. Catherine smiled at her as she passed. Miss Brown shoved the candlesticks behind her back and curtsied as Catherine went by.
She hurried down the stairs and almost ran past the parlor and dining room towards the study where Edward spent much of his day. She eased open the doors and held her breath. She was grinning. It felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and a fog was slowly rolling away. I am not mad. Edward was sitting at his desk. His shirt was unbuttoned, his cravat was not tied, and his sandy blond hair was disheveled where he had run his hands through it.
"Just set the tea things over there," he said, waving his hand towards the edge of his desk, where there was already a tray with an untouched sandwich and teacup.
Catherine tiptoed over to him. He did not glance up. He was too absorbed in his work. She planted her hands over his eyes and said, "Guess who."
He twisted around in her gasp and broke free from the shield over his eyes. "Catherine?" he exhaled. She could see all the worry lining his face.
I was awful to push him away. How could I doubt his love for me? She cupped his cheeks and leaned in to kiss him. She never had dreamed of being so forward before, but that was the past. She was resolved to be better. She had minded her manners her entire life, walked a straight line, afraid that a wrong step would reveal her true nature. Now she knew that had all been a lie. Their kiss was a sweet pressing of lips. She was not ready to be more direct than that. This was a step in the right direction, though. When she pulled away, Edward grabbed her wrist and pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her with much more artifice and passion than she knew was possible. They parted after a few moments.
"Darling, I have been worried to death over you," he said as he stroked the side of her cheek with his fingers.
She pressed her forehead against his. It felt good to just be with him. To not worry that her every gesture was being watched and measured. "I am sorry. I should never have pushed you away as I did. I was so afraid..." She spoke from the heart unintentionally. She stiffened, realizing she had said too much.
Edward noticed the shift in mood and said, "What were you afraid of?"
"That if you found out I was ill, you would put me aside." She lowered her lashes, reverting once again to her reserved nature.
<
br /> He grew very still and he looked away from her. His hand dropped down to the table. Catherine slid off his lap to stand at his elbow. She waited for him to respond. She had unwittingly insulted him. Why can I not guard my tongue better? This is why I have always been careful with my words. I cannot say the right things.
"Do you think me so petty?" he said.
"No--I was uncertain of myself. I should have known that you loved me, and that no matter what it was you would forgive me for it."
"Is there something you haven't been telling me?" he asked. He raised his eyes up to her, and they were firm but not unkind.
He deserved an explanation. Dr. Rowan's reassurances flitted through her mind. She opened her mouth, prepared to give him the full story, but she hesitated, remembering Edward's dismissal of Col. Hawthorn's concerns about the Thorn Dwellers. She said instead, "I have been ill since I was a child... but I am getting better." She paused and considered her next words. "All the excitement has brought about symptoms of a childhood illness, that's all." And then she added a hasty, "Dr. Rowan says I can expect a full recovery."
He regarded her for a few moments without speaking. Catherine fought the urge to say more; it would only make matters worse if she added to her lies--well, half-truths. She was going to get better because now she knew that everything she had been seeing since she was a child was real. She had the rest of her life to make sense of what that meant.
He reached out for her hand, and she offered it willingly. He covered her hand with his. "Never doubt my love for you, no matter what. I trust your judgment. You are my wife, and I love you."
She blushed and looked away. It was good to hear that after everything that had happened recently. It was good to know Edward's love was unfailing. Now she needed to learn to believe in herself. After years of self-loathing it would not be an easy task. Catherine was determined to continue her growth, and she broke one of her own rules and coaxed Edward into having afternoon tea with her. She was pleased to have time to speak with him naturally. Without the fear of revealing her insanity, she felt less need to hide or tailor her responses to not offend.
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