Tangled Webs

by Lee Bross

  “What are you doing here?’ she demanded.

  “I came here so I could watch you conduct your business,” he said. “To try to understand why you were doing it.” She saw raw pain in his eyes as he pushed past her.

  Arista stood in stunned silence. Grae was halfway to the doors before she could move her feet. By the time she reached him, he had stepped outside. She grabbed his arm and tugged. “It’s not what you think.”

  “I know what I saw,” he ground out. “You asked me to trust you? I almost did.”

  He jerked his arm free and stormed toward the street. This was not how it was supposed to be. “Grae, please wait.” Arista ran to catch up with him. Carriages were still bringing people to the party, so she took his hand and pulled until he followed her farther down the street, away from anyone who might overhear.

  “So you can tell more lies?”

  “No, so I can tell you the truth.” Frustration welled up inside her. She didn’t want to lie to him, so she had to tell him at least part of the truth. She hated the way he was looking at her now. “I despise my job.” The doubt in his eyes only made her want him to understand all that much more. “It’s never been my choice, what I do. I hate controlling people’s lives, but it’s not something I can simply refuse to do.”

  “And dancing with strangers, that’s how you find new business?”

  Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Why had she given in to the urge to let loose tonight? Of course it was the same night Grae decided to follow her. “That’s not it at all. I’m only the go-between. I make the deliveries and collect the information.” She kept her voice low in case anyone was near enough to hear. Her pulse thundered in her ears. This was more than anyone outside of her circle knew.

  Grae now held Lady A’s fate in his hands.

  “So, what was that, then? The dancing. The laughing with that man?” Grae demanded. He held her shoulders and looked right into her eyes. His gaze was hard, his lips thin with anger. “Because from where I was standing, you didn’t seem to despise your work at all.”

  She set her jaw, and her lips thinned as well. “It’s complicated.”

  “It didn’t look too complicated to me. In fact, it all seemed quite clear.”

  Arista balled her fingers into fists at her side. How could he understand the small taste of freedom she’d gotten tonight? How it made her feel so alive inside that she’d had to dance? Grae had no right to be angry.

  “Then you mistook what you saw. Someone like you would not understand.”

  “Then explain it to me.” Grae dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. “Simple enough so that I don’t feel the need to tell my mother who you really are. That our houseguest is actually a blackmailing liar!”

  “I’m not,” she gasped. His words stung. “I swear I’m only doing this because…” She almost spilled out Wild’s name. There was no explanation she could give that would satisfy Grae, not without revealing everything. And she could not do that. Even now, raging at her, he was so vulnerable. She didn’t want to hurt him more. It would be her burden to bear. Her secret.

  She sighed, her body suddenly heavy. “I’m sorry—I wish I could make you understand, but there is so much I can’t tell you.” She took a step away from him and felt her body protesting. For a few glorious nights, she had felt something, had felt truly alive. Grae had given her that, and she didn’t regret a second of it. “I’m not like you. I didn’t have a family who loved me, who protected me, and I’ve only done what I had to do to survive. But I promise you that the person you met, the one who danced with you, that is me—the real me—behind all the pretense. I want you to see who I really am.”

  Arista stared at the ground, unable to look at Grae. She finally dared to meet his eyes. “I would never lie about this, Grae, because it’s one of the only real things I’ve ever had in my life. I hope that you can at least trust that.” She prayed he could see the honesty in her face, because there was nothing more she could say.

  From the corner of her eye, Arista watched a black carriage make its way slowly down the street. She knew Wild would be waiting. “There isn’t anything else I can say. Good-bye, Grae.”

  Her heart cracked as she walked away, and he didn’t come after her.

  That was it, then. He would tell his mother who she really was, and she would be kicked out of their home. The only place she’d ever felt welcome.

  She had almost reached the parked carriage when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. Taken by surprise, she reacted without thinking, and had her knife out from its sheath and pressed back against her assailant’s ribs in a flash.

  He froze. “I see that you can take care of yourself, at least.” At the sound of Grae’s voice, her hand dropped. Yet her traitorous pulse sped up. He had come after her.

  “I do want to trust you,” he said in her ear. “Because whatever this is between us, it feels real to me, too. But you have to tell me everything so I can help you. We can figure this out together.”

  Up ahead, the carriage door opened, and blind panic gripped her limbs. Would Wild approach her with Grae right here? Wild glanced their way and nodded his head, then entered the gates of the party.

  Arista exhaled. That was why she couldn’t tell Grae the truth. Because someone like Wild would ruin him, for the sport of it. She wouldn’t let that happen—not to Grae. For his own safety, she had to push him away.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to tell you the truth.” She felt him tense up behind her. “This is my life. This”—she waved her hand that held the knife—“is how I stayed alive. None of this is my choice, but you have no idea what it’s like. You can’t understand what it’s like to have nothing.”

  “But you always will have nothing if you refuse help,” he argued. “Unless this is all really just part of the lie, too?”

  The denial was right there, but it would not come out past the lump in her throat. He was right—she always would have nothing. But at least she had nothing to lose. If anything happened to Grae, she would never forgive herself.

  “Is it, Ana? Is this all just a lie?” Grae demanded.

  Silence stretched between them. She took a deep breath in.

  “My name’s not Ana.”

  “What?” The disbelief in his voice nearly broke her.

  “My name. It’s not Ana, it’s Arista.” His grasp loosened and it took all of her strength to walk away from him again.

  Arista closed the door softly and crept into her room.

  Wild had left her by the back gate to the garden, after giving her half the money as he had promised. The coins sat heavy in her reticule. Tonight had not gone as she’d planned. How had Grae known where she would be? She’d told no one except for Becky, who had worried about Arista going alone to meet the client.

  Arista groaned. Becky had told him. “Of course.”

  In the morning, she would have to have a talk with her friend—try and explain the danger that Grae would be in if he were to get caught up in their world.

  It wouldn’t matter now anyway, she realized with a pang. Whatever had been between her and Grae lay in pieces on the street. Admitting that even her name was a lie must have been the final straw. But it was better that Grae hate her than have him be in danger.

  With a heavy heart, she sat and undid her boots, setting them carefully aside. Then she stood and began to unlace the corset—she could do it herself, as it was tied in the front for her costume. The light from the lantern on the side table cast the room in a soft glow. The colorful skirt came next, and then the white blouse and stockings. Finally she stood in nothing but her underclothes.

  Arista blew out the gas lamp and the room sank into darkness. In the morning, would Grae demand answers? Or worse yet, would he continue to ignore her? Either option left a sick feeling in her stomach. She sank down on the edge of the bed. What was she going to do?

  She pulled back the quilt to get into bed. A barely discernable scratching noise sounded at the do
or—the one that led to the garden. She listened—there it was again. The hairs on her neck stood up. She reached for her knife, tucked under her pillow, and crept to the door. When she pressed her ear against it, she heard nothing. The latch clicked, overloud in the quiet room. Very slowly she pulled the door open, inch by inch. Her eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, easily scanned the lines and shapes of the garden beyond. There were no shadows out of place. Nothing moved.

  Had it been an animal? She started to close the door, and then looked down. Something lay on the stone step. A bundle of some sort.

  Had Wild left it there? Another assignment, already? Why had he not told her in the carriage, only an hour ago? But it could not be her next task, because it was too thick. And it wasn’t just one letter—there was a stack of them, tied with a crude piece of string. She ran her thumb over the wax seal of the letter on the top.

  There was no way she could sleep without knowing what this was. She carefully relit the lantern and held the packets closer. Her eyes swept over what she held in her hands before the shaking in them caused her to drop it. The packet landed on the floor with a soft thump, but she didn’t hear it. She was already out the door and in the garden. Cool night air washed over her uncovered skin, but she didn’t care. Barely even noticed.

  “Nic,” she whispered as loud as she dared. “I know it’s you.”

  She paused, listening to the sounds of the night. Nothing moved within the walls of the garden.

  “Why did you leave those for me?”

  Only silence answered her.

  Coldness seeped up from the ground, chilling her bare feet. Goose bumps sprang up along her arms and she wrapped them over her stomach, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth.

  “Nic?” She tried one more time, but she already knew. He was gone.

  With no other choice, Arista went back inside her room and latched the door. The packet lay on the floor, in the shadow cast by the side table. How did Nic know where she was? Why hadn’t he stayed, so she could see him, talk to him? She picked up the letters and pulled the string loose, letting them spread out over the bed. She picked one up at random and read it. Then another. And another.

  Nic had not just left her letters; he’d left the secrets she’d collected as Lady A over the years. The same secrets that the aristocracy had paid enormous sums to either procure or hide.

  Did Nic expect her to use them? The one who controls the secrets controls those rich bastards. Nic had always thought that way. He wanted to own them all, just like Bones. So did he now expect her to use them, and continue the blackmailing?

  “What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked the empty room.

  After tucking the packet safely away in the back of the wardrobe, she crawled under the quilt to fight off a sudden wash of chills.

  She lay awake in the darkness for hours. When sleep finally pulled her under, her dreams were filled with shadowy alleyways and voices cutting through thick fog. And faces: Nic, Grae, Bones, Wild. They changed from one to the other until they seemed to merge into one terrible image, staring at her through deep, vacant eyes.

  “Good morning, miss,” Becky said cheerfully. Arista blinked her eyes open and was surprised to find the room bathed in morning light. “I thought you might like some help getting ready. The family will be eating in a half hour. Miss Sophia has been hovering outside your door all morning, waiting for you to wake up.”

  Becky pulled back the covers and urged Arista to sit. “Everyone here is so nice,” she continued, chattering away. “Do you know that Wilson and the cook, Jane, are married? Mr. Sinclair had rooms added to the house just for them. And Sara, Miss Sophia’s maid, is sharing her room with me, and she gave me this new bonnet.”

  Arista watched Becky move around the room, efficiently gathering what she needed. Her steps were light, and she kept smiling between words. A fresh bandage covered her injured eye, and a pretty blue bonnet sat atop her neat curls.

  She wore a new dress, too: a plain light-grey uniform with an immaculate white apron. In this attire, her step seemed more sure, her head higher, despite her injuries. Becky caught Arista’s eye and smiled.

  There was one thing that needed to be said first. Arista frowned. “You told Grae where I went last night.”

  Becky’s face fell, and she clutched Arista’s underclothes to her stomach. “I was worried, miss. You’ve always had Nic to watch out for you, and Mr. Graeden said he just wanted to be sure you were safe. I’m sorry, miss, I shouldn’t have told him.”

  Arista sighed. It was hard to be mad at her friend for anything. Becky had only done what she thought best. “When I’m out, no one is to know where. It’s better that way, okay?”

  Becky hung her head. “Of course, miss.”

  Arista moved across the room and gently took the bundle of clothing from Becky. “Thank you for caring, Becky. That means a lot to me. I don’t mean to be harsh, I just want to keep Grae away from that part of my life.”

  Arista didn’t tell her that it was too late. That he knew who she was—what she did. Her friend was happy in the Sinclair home, and Arista vowed to make sure she stayed that way.

  This is what she wanted to give Becky for the rest of her life. Security and happiness. Things that a cut of Wild’s money could buy. And maybe now, with the secrets Nic had left for her, she might find a way to earn even more. Ideas flashed through her head, but she needed to think them through before she did anything rash. There might be a way to get everything she needed.

  “Are you ready to get dressed, miss? Breakfast will be starting soon. You needn’t worry about Mr. Graeden,” Becky chattered as she helped Arista into her day dress. “I heard him tell Wilson that he went back to his ship. That there were things he needed to attend to.”

  Arista’s spirits sank. A part of her had hoped that he might understand in the light of day. With a heavy sigh, she sat as Becky started tending to her hair. It had gotten longer since the last time Nic cut it. Small curls hugged her neck and framed her face. Becky had pinned up a small section in the front, pulling the hair away from Arista’s eyes. Had they always been so blue?

  “You look beautiful, miss.”

  She looked…very much unlike herself. Arista missed the rough feel of her wool trousers and the comfort of her oversized jacket, which gave her the anonymity she craved. Things with Grae would not be in such a state of discord, had she been allowed to keep up her disguise. But she couldn’t go around dressed as a lad when she was the guest of a family.

  Becky led her down the short hallway and opened the door. Arista stepped into the room and everything went silent. Three pairs of eyes were staring at her. Had Grae told his family about her?

  “Good morning, Ana,” Marguerite said graciously. “Please come in and join us.” Arista tried desperately to remain calm. It appeared he had not.

  Arista sat in the chair Wilson pulled out for her. She had avoided taking meals with the family so far, unsure of how to act in such a civilized and normal setting. Becky had taught her the graces of a lady, but they did not include dining.

  Heat climbed her cheeks, and she didn’t dare look up from her plate. But what she saw there only caused her more unease. There were so many utensils. Why did anyone need three forks to eat, when one would suffice?

  Arista curled her fingers into her palms and held her hands in her lap to hide the trembling. She could stare down grown men, yet facing a table setting put the fear of the devil in her. If she wasn’t so terribly uneasy, she might have laughed at the absurdity. Nic would have laughed. He would have declared all of this as pompous as hell, tossed the utensils aside, and eaten with his fingers. It wasn’t like they’d had the luxury of eating with anything but their fingers growing up.

  “How are you this morning, Ana? Are you feeling better?” Sophia asked. She sat across from Arista and looked bright as sunshine in a pale yellow dress. “Maybe after breakfast we can sit in the garden and gossip? You can tell me what goes on outs
ide of London! Father never lets Grae tell me tales of his adventures.” Sophia playfully poked her father, who held up his hands in surrender.

  “Those tales are not for the ears of young ladies.” Mr. Sinclair smiled at Arista. “Last year, Sophia dressed herself as a boy and snuck onto one of my ships, under the guise of a new cabin boy. They were halfway down the Thames before she was discovered.”

  Innocent-looking Sophia had done that? Arista’s mouth fell open, and Sophia giggled. “I wanted a grand escapade, like in the books I’ve read.”

  “Never should have taught the girl to read,” Mr. Sinclair said, though there was nothing but love in his smile.

  “That’s enough,” Marguerite chided with a smile. “We have a guest at our table. Ana, what are your plans? Will you stay in London after your visit?”

  “I don’t think so,” she answered. Finally, one truth in the sea of lies. “As soon as things are…settled…I plan to leave with Becky.” She knew that they would assume what would be “settled” was her late husband’s estate, and not her business with Wild. Mr. Sinclair nodded and smiled at her explanation, but she could feel his assessing gaze.

  “Where will you go?” Sophia asked. Her eyes were wide with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to travel, to see the world.”

  “I’m not sure,” she lied. Why was she keeping her dream of going to India a secret? Would it matter if they knew?

  “Perhaps we can discuss all of the places, and I can help you decide,” Sophia said.

  “That would be fun.” Except she already knew where she wanted to go, and had hoped that it would be with Grae, on one of his ships. That might be difficult if he continued to avoid her.

  Wilson set a covered dish in front of her and Arista seized upon the interruption. She dug her fork into a steaming meat-filled pastry and concentrated on taking a bite. It still made her uneasy, talking about getting away from London—even in the relative safety of the Sinclairs’ home.