“Another was arrested for the murder. It seems that the Bishop had a mistress, and she killed him when he tried to replace her!” he said cheerfully. “She signed a confession and everything!”
“Not that I’m displeased, but this seems a bit abrupt.” She looked at Andrew again. “What do you think?”
“I think you should be pleased that your wedding can now go forward,” he said, shutting the ledgers firmly. “Well. Now life can go back to normal. Please, if you will fetch your things, we shall go to my mother’s.” He was so very business-like that it took her aback. Just when I thought I might begin to like you.
“So soon? Don’t you wish to see him?”
He looked at her almost indulgently. “As long as we were in an emergency, I was willing to let things go by the board, but now we must act with the propriety for which such a situation begs. You certainly cannot stay here. In fact, you cannot see him alone at all until you are finally wed. Now please...”
She bowed. “My people are not without culture or a sense of dignity, either, I should like you to know. But we do allow room for kindness. In my country, I would have been allowed to stay to make sure he was all right, to prepare him something to eat. Then I would leave and conform myself to society’s wishes. I find our way less barbaric.”
He said something, but she was too busy climbing the stairs—loudly—to hear him.
Dear William,
I am being forced to leave before you return, and am delaying to write this quick note. I am so glad to know you are free. If I had my way, tea and dinner would be awaiting you, but alas your brother will not allow it.
Please, please call upon me and let me know how I can help you recover. Cecelia and I have spoken a great deal and I am sure the two of us will be of great assistance in returning things to normal.
I shall leave the wind-sprites behind me to live in the back of your kitchen. If you would put some crumbled cake and milk out for them I would be grateful.
I am eager to see you –
Tasmin
It was the staring contest to end all staring contests, and Tasmin, from the second she’d met this overstuffed, fussy, waspish, no-wonder-William-went-to-sea-the-second-he-could woman, she was determined not to lose. “William’s old room will be at your disposal, unless, of course, you would prefer the guest’s quarters.”
“I will be pleased to sleep where my intended once did,” she said, trying to be charming.
“Since you seem to be making a habit of it, I didn’t suppose you would mind.”
Well, those were the words, but Tasmin felt the meaning was more akin to, “Of course you’d love to sleep in my son’s bed, you flaming tart.”
“Well.” Tasmin tried to seek common ground. “I am looking forward to any suggestions you have about preparing for the wedding. I have a dress that I believe will be most suitable, I fell in love with it the moment I saw it,” she said, even though she hated this sort of talk. “And knew it would be absolutely perfect for the day. It is my family’s dress; we have a tradition of passing our wedding dresses down to our daughters.”
“Well, now.” The woman arched an eyebrow and looked at the woman who sat next to her on the couch.
Tasmin’s future sister-in-law seemed to be paying attention, but Tasmin had caught on quickly that Bonny was not—quite—there. Whether she was that way all the time or just now as a survival tactic, Tasmin could not yet tell.
“You do enjoy pressing your case. I do not believe for an instance that William should be rushed into things simply because you decided to step in. It is, after all, his choice, and not yours.”
“Ah, yes.” She blinked, and lost the contest, realizing for the first time how her arrival must have looked. Does William feel I am forcing his hand? “And I will respect his choice.” She looked at her lap, so she would not have to see the gleam of malicious triumph that showed so clearly in the other woman’s eyes.
“Of course she will.” Bonny spoke for the first time. “I believe I hear William’s voice. Shall we retire, sister, and let them have their conversation?” Bonny rose with grace and held a hand out to Tasmin. “I shall show her to her temporary abode; please do not distress yourself, mamma. I am sure you have much to say to your son.”
Bonny pulled her up the staircase, refusing to let her get a peek at William. “The secret to getting around Her Majesty is to follow the rules with a rigidity that would shock most people. In fact, it is best to act that way around all members of the family. Even William can, at times, be shocked at the least little impropriety, but he is by far the easiest with whom to deal.” Bonny spoke no further, nor encouraged it, until they were in William’s old room.
The room held no clues to young William’s past; it was clean, the furniture was nice—in short, it looked like no one had ever lived in it at all. She would have thought she were in the wrong room if not for her own cases, stacked neatly at the foot of the bed.
“I never thought William so terrible. He never seemed to mind my oddities,” she said, feeling a bit awkward.
“Well, William will let it slide because of your culture. It is quite understandable that you don’t know any better.” Bonny sighed. “Henriette will not.” She walked over to the window and pushed the curtains open. Tasmin cast Bonny back a foul look.
“You’ve managed to deal well enough,” Tasmin ventured, trying to keep her tone light. Don’t know better, indeed!
Bonny looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Partly because I’m pretty and my family makes more money than the Almsleys. I was considered quite a boon when the dish threw my name out.” Then, realizing the implications of what she’d said, she winced.
“Don’t worry; I know what William’s family thought of me—exactly what my family thought of him.” Bonny smiled but said nothing.
“What do you think of this whole mess?” Tasmin sat on the edge of the bed, bunching the covers in her fist where Bonny couldn’t see.
“First, I think that it’s very sweet that you came; and he’d better marry you while you’re here. What is he waiting for, until neither of you can produce children? Secondly, I think that William’s arrest was all a dreadful mistake, but fortunately it’s been resolved.”
“I hope so.” She smoothed the covers out again carefully.
Bonny came and sat beside her. “Of course things are fine now. We— you and I—will plan the wedding behind the old girl’s back. I’ll tell her that this or that was the style at some nobleman’s wedding, and all will be splendid!”
“Of course.” Her smile was forced; yet she still received a hug for her efforts. A moment later Bonny leapt up. “I am going to go see if Andrew is downstairs and find out his plans. I’ll see you soon, sister. Don’t let the ogre get to you, her sons know her nature.”
Her sons know her nature? Not comforting, really. How often will I have to give way because it is her nature and therefore everyone accepts it?
She crossed to the vanity, studying her hair. She hated having left the sprites behind, but she didn’t want to force them to acclimate to another world and then rip them out of it. Also, she hated the idea of having to force them to behave, and she was certain the battle-axe downstairs would not approve of her darlings’ antics.
There was plenty to do. Her cases could be unpacked and her clothes hung, but the very idea made her feel restless and discontent. Bored, she started opening some of the drawers. Each was empty, lined with slightly yellowed tissue paper. The fact they had not changed it made her wonder if they hadn’t expected her, or if they simply did not care.
The very bottom one was filled with children’s clothes no one wanted to part with ... a small jacket meant to look like a naval officer’s, tiny shoes that were badly scuffed, a slightly mangled toy horse. She smiled a little, thinking the odds and ends were adorable. She was reaching for another coat, a little larger, rust re
d and gold wool, when there was a knock on the door.
She scooted the tiny coat under the bed with her foot and shut the drawer, standing quickly. “Yes?”
A maid came in with a piece of pale blue paper, folded in sharp quarters. Tasmin bowed her head slightly in thanks and took it, waiting for the woman to leave. Her name was written on it in familiar indigo handwriting, and she slipped it open, taking it to the window to read.
I think my lady will find the park behind this house charming, even more so if she consents to visit it in half an hour.
William
The half hour crawled, but the person who managed to wait that eternity and get herself to the garden was quite as pretty as whatever art she possessed could make her. William, himself, was not terrible to look upon; in fact, he seemed quite changed. The man who stood at the back of the garden was not the same one who had greeted her in prison. His clothes were quite fashionable, with only a little embellishment, mostly in the rich depth of its blue color. His knee breeches had gold buckles, as did his shoes.
He bowed coolly, as if they had never before met, and she returned the courtesy with a curtsey. She rose, and looked him in the eyes, her hands folded at her waist, her expression calm.
“There is a tower behind you—nay, do not look,” he said with that same cold cordiality. “But ‘tis part of the house, and is made for observation. From where I stand, you can tell if someone is at the window, because they block the window in the wall behind. A trick of mine that is not generally well known.”
“Your mother is watching us?’ she asked, amusement creeping into her tone.
“Nay, she is in with my father. But someone is. I bethought we could speak in private here, but I think I am mistaken. In any case, I wished to see you, so it is a small matter.”
“Well,” she said, “I can wish you joy of your freedom?”
“That is not something of which I am entirely certain.” His eyes flickered with suppressed anger for a moment before he became cool again.
“How so? You do not think they will jail you again?” she asked, upset so plain in her voice that he gave her the kindest look.
“Nay. My father has taken care of that detail. Avast, a maid comes.” He bowed again, indicating his leave.
“This is all you wished to say?” She felt cheated, somehow.
“Nay.” He walked around the fountain, then bowed deeply, and said, loudly, for the maid’s benefit, “You may tell my mother that the wedding will take place in two weeks time.” He looked at Tasmin again, “Thank you, milady, for agreeing. I am beyond words.”
She forced herself not to react. The idea that there was now a deadline of sorts made it seem more real, more tangible. And a bit frightening.
Worse, she thought when she went through the hall to go back upstairs and saw her future mother-in-law looking fit to kill, two more weeks in this wretched household. However shall I survive?
Chapter 11
Ferou 5th,
Saph. Mn. Qtr. 1788
Dear Tasmin,
I received your package an hour out of Dert Harbor, which I believe is only two hours from your home. I am tempted, severely tempted, to come and see your city. I should like to see the castle ruins where you found your sprites; see the great, ever changing university where you work. Is it really made of earth and stone and ice, and therefore changes with the seasons? Do rooms and halls and passageways disappear and reappear?
I must thank you for the care with which you prepared these potions. I have already placed the amulet under my shirt, and will place the rest where they may best be used. I am deeply moved by your kindness and worry for my safety.
Yours,
William
William bought the woman who might hang for him a fine meal of chicken stuffed with shrimp and spinach, blueberry tarts, and boiled potatoes stewed in butter. Standing outside his old prison cell, he reflected that it was the least he could do for her.
Franny Harker ate in silence while he distracted himself by thinking about what needed to be done at the shop to get things going again. The shipment of chocolate had finally come in; one of the things waiting for him at home was a letter from the captain he’d paid to bring the shipment. Once he retrieved it from his father’s warehouse, he would be able to begin building his business again. Perhaps. He had much to do, first, and some of it had to do with the woman in front of him, who ate swiftly, like someone starving, yet she tried to savor it, a little at least, showing her to be someone who perhaps wasn’t unused to such food, either.
“Thank you,” she said, folding the napkin up and placing it in the wooden box the meal had come in.
“My pleasure,” he said softly. She looked at him expectantly, knowing there was a price to be paid, so finally, he said, “What do you get out of this? Dying for a crime you did not commit?”
“You know I didn’t do it?” she blinked. “Are you confessing, then?” Her voice was tired, but the sarcasm showed that she still had some fire.
“I didn’t commit any crime and neither did you. I know... ”
“Ah, so we’ve both been jailed for a crime we didn’t commit. What a terrible, terrible world this is.” She was controlling the conversation. If he was ever to become a decent investigator—which talent he only wished to develop so that he could find out the truth of matters and keep his life, conscience, and honor sound–-he must be the one in control. He looked her in the eye. “I know that you are paid to confess, to take the blame. I also know that the details you know had to have been fed to you by someone who actually saw the scene of the crime. Now please ... help me understand why you are doing this. What hold do they have on you?”
Her eyes met his squarely. “I won’t help you if you intend to free me. If—now I only say if—I were innocent, the only thing that would induce me to be here would be the love of my children, who will be put through a good university, given an excellent education and a bright future that they could not otherwise have led.”
“Induce?”
He thought over her words, the way she said things. Her accent was odd; it reminded him a bit of Tasmin’s, except she said some of her vowels a little more roundly. Also, even if a woman from the common class knew the word induce, she doubtless would never think to use it. Protective coloring, if nothing else. “You were not always poor, were you?”
“No.” She said, her arm around one of the bars, leaning on it. “But my lover was.” She pressed her face into her arm and said, “You have all I will give to you. Leave. And please, for all the food in the world, do not come back.”
“I didn’t kill him,” he said, because it seemed important that she not think she was dying for a guilty man. He was not going to give up on her, but he still needed to say it.
She opened one eye, startlingly green in the dark. “Very few think that you did. I was never one of them.”
“Why not? You do not know me, only of me.”
She pushed away from the bars and walked over to the wall, pointedly ignoring him. He had left some blankets and arranged for food to be brought to her every day. He had done his best to help her survive until he could help her live.
He walked to the shore. The harbor itself was fairly wide, though treacherous. On either wing of the harbor, the barracks and the Admiralty house each dominated opposite low rises of hill, guns facing to the sea. In the distance he could see a lofty little ship, her sails like dove’s wings, and he felt a tug deep in his heart, as if he were being pulled toward the waters. For a moment he was severely tempted to get Tasmin, load up a ship, and go back to the old life. Perhaps everything would right itself, if he stopped swimming against the current. You could show her the world. She would like that, I think.
The waves were lapping his shoes; he did not notice it, staring out, thinking, lost in his own uncertainties. He did not note that the water crawled into his sho
es and curled around his toes, not until he heard a voice, soft and sweet and low and a little like death, whisper his name.
He stepped back quickly. That was when he knew he would never be able to sail again.
Chapter 12
Ferou ninth, Sapphire Moon Quarter 1788
Dear William,
It is odd to think of you so close to my shores. I would be tempted, as well, but I have no transport so the temptation is merely a wish or an annoyance, depending upon the hour.
Thank you for the box of chocolates. You are right; the cook did add wintergreen to the center filling of the butterfly shaped ones, which I found odd. I would not say so, but since you asked, I must be honest and say while I liked them, perhaps peppermint would be a more complimentary flavor. Still, they were novel, though I enjoyed the little sea shells more. I like to put a few in my pocket and eat them as I walk; they make a most delightful break when I am out collecting materials.
I shall always worry, ‘tis nothing special to thank me for, part and parcel of who I am.
I have been accepted as a professor for the university, where I shall attempt to teach students about herbal and stone craft. It is quite an exciting chance, to tell others about what I know so well. Perhaps I will use some of the more unusual plant specimens that you have sent me in classroom demonstrations.
You must tell me more of your adventures. You know how boring my life is, compared to yours. How will I survive it if I cannot live a more exciting life through your eyes?
Yours, eventually,
Tasmin
“It’s very old, isn’t it?” Bonny asked as Tasmin lovingly drew her wedding dress from its wrappings. Once every year, since her first blood, she had brought out her wedding dress and admired it, inspecting its heavily embroidered silver and pearl drenched bodice, the square cut of the neck, the puffed sleeves slashed to reveal the chemise worn beneath it.
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