The Chocolatier's Wife

by Cindy Lynn Speer

  “Don’t worry,” she said ruefully, as if mistaking his staring for concern. “No hysterics. I got those over with this morning. I apologize for being so upset and angry. It is, after all, just a dress, I suppose. The one before it was burned in a castle fire, during a terrible battle between fire and ice mages.”

  “I don’t want our marriage to be hell.” He gave her a pointed look, under which she blushed.

  “You don’t have to.” Her hand was gentle on his arm.

  “I know. But I do want to.” He was stooped over, the easier to search, so he was low enough for her to lean over and place her head, just so, in the crook of his neck.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. He could feel her breathing in his scent, and an odd sense of longing stirred inside him. Not odd. Desire was not odd, nor foreign. Because he’d never indulged it didn’t mean he didn’t feel it, and keenly. She shivered, and he realized that he, too, was quite cold, and would like nothing more right now than to be back in the shop, curled up in their bed. Maybe she would tell him stories in that soft voice of hers and he could pretend that everything was going to be well.

  He placed a hand on her back, stroking her gently once. “You are cold. You should go in; the wind is cruel today.”

  “Soon.” She sat up. “What are you going to do, after you finish pearl-diving?”

  He took off his coat and placed it around her. “I am not altogether certain. At least one task is done.” He gestured to the grass, relieved to be finished hunting. “I am most sorry about your dress.” He rose and offered a hand, and they sat together on the bench, not daring to go in. It was a miracle they had been allowed to be alone this long.

  “It will pass. We do not have much time, so I will not dance around the subject. Your sister wishes me to help her conceive.”

  “Well, that is certainly a novel idea, but if you have the capability to get a woman with child we need to have a long talk.”

  “Don’t be cheeky. Even spending an hour on your knees looking for pearls for me—which was quite sweet—does not entitle you to be cheeky.”

  “Two hours,” he said, being silly. “Not that I was really counting. But, to the subject: she wishes you to use your magic? Is that possible?”

  She sighed. “I do not know. It seems that as long as man and woman have breathed, the things they want the most are, first, love potions, second, potions to prevent children, third, potions to gain them. ‘Tis part of the reason the Mating Spell was designed, to stop wedlock from being the providence of magic.”

  “Ironic.”

  “Well, yes. But now you cannot use magic to force a heart. The spell is nearly impossible to outwit, and most people won’t try for fear of what it will do to their child’s future.”

  “It was also used because the Bishop of that time wished to stop arranged marriages. He said it was because he hated to see so many people miserable for the want of money or consolidated power, but many believe ‘tis because he wanted more power for the Church.”

  “Do you always take the romance out of everything?”

  “If at all possible.”

  She glared at him, and he gave her a mild look back. “The reason why I brought up this indelicate subject is that I wished to know how much pressure your father is exerting on your brother to have an heir, and since you used to be in your brother’s place... ”

  “Quite a lot, I suspect. He claimed that was one good reason for you being a mage. You would surely be able to make certain an heir was born of the proper gender.”

  “But what would happen if they never have a child? Or only a daughter?”

  “Well, I suppose if we are blessed, then our son would be groomed for the role. If a daughter, her intended mate might be the next heir, though to keep it in family name, if not line, it is not unheard of to adopt a child.” He grew thoughtful, but she could not stop from asking her next question.

  “Why must it always go to men? Our daughter could run the business just as well.”

  “Doubtless,” he said absently. “The woman, Franny... ”

  “The one who stands accused now?”

  “Yes. She said her children were promised a bright future. I thought at first she meant education, but... ” He leapt up, began pacing. “But I doubt Father would adopt one of her children; I would think he would wait to see what kind of heir we bring into the world. You see, I keep thinking that things are not so simple as I am trying to make them. But then, perhaps... ” He fell into silence.

  “Perhaps you are overthinking things?”

  “Perhaps I don’t want to admit that I am responsible for this whole mess.”

  “Whatever do you mean? The murder?” It did not occur to her that he was blaming himself for starting the chain of events by quitting the sea. “Perhaps you wish to engage in such nonsense, but I care not to waste my time. I knew from the second I heard of the murder that you had naught to do with the death of that man. I stand by it and beg you to help me by doing the same. Perhaps our time might be better spent contemplating why anyone would choose you, in particular, to frame, which is what we should have been doing all along. You and the Bishop must have had a common enemy.”

  “Lavoussier.”

  “The man who interviewed you the night of the murder?” she asked with some distaste.

  “The very same. He was the Captain of the HMS Crien. Ayers—one of my able seaman when I was at sea—helped me unload my cocoa today. It is in my shop now, at least the last time I looked, so at least that bit is sorted, though I would still like to know who did me the service of sending me the note.”

  “Congratulations, dear. Yes, that is most curious, but though your mind might be brilliant enough to follow three trails of thought at once, I am a mere woman, and beg you to take one topic at a time.” She tugged his hand, and he sat next to her again.

  “Mere woman. Bah. Anyway, Ayers reminded me that Lavoussier was not pleased that we beat him to the Pandora, because in the Navy, when a ship is taken, it is sold, and the wealth divided among those involved ... and the Pandora was worth quite a lot.”

  “And on it was something very valuable, correct? I remember in one of your letters, you said the Bishop convinced you to chase her because she had something dangerous aboard. What was it?”

  He shifted on the cold marble bench. “Well, I don’t rightly know, as I said before.”

  “You can tell me, William. I’m not going to pass it on; I just want to know what would send you after such a vastly more powerful ship.”

  “Prize money.” A quick shrug of the shoulders. “The Bishop promised me something unheard of: that if we took her, we could have the prize money. We had suffered a great loss, and I liked the idea that the men would have something on top of their wages to show for it. Also, I didn’t mind turning my own profit. ‘Twas enough to buy the shop outright, rather than renting.”

  “You were willing to die for prize money?”

  “Please, your voice, dear. Even I have trouble comparing it to the dulcet sighs of angels when you shriek like that.”

  “And then you risk this unfathomable amount of money on a chocolate shop that may or may not succeed. Not that I mind, but you didn’t ask me, did you? I mean, ‘tis very well possible that chocolate gives me hives or something.”

  “I would have hoped you would tell me, as I sent so much of it to you?”

  She slanted him a look.

  “Ah, right, I suppose you wouldn’t complain about a gift. But the shop is a good investment.” He gestured towards the house. “I suppose ... I didn’t ask because my parents were so against it, I figured you would be, too, especially when you realized I was taking you from this.”

  “You think I regret losing out on this mausoleum? I wouldn’t wish this place on the person who killed the Bishop.”

  He laughed, and she placed her chin on his shoulder.
>
  “Don’t feel guilty. Just know that when you are a wealthy and successful businessman, I expect you to build me a new house. With turrets. I like turrets. And a bay window. And a second story porch, and a... ”

  “Sounds rather elaborate.”

  “It’ll make this place look like a toy shed.” He liked seeing her smile, was glad that she was comfortable enough to be a little silly around him. After a moment, she returned to the subject at hand. “Lavoussier can’t get the prize money back by disgracing you, right?”

  “Nay, ‘twas a clean battle. If such a thing could happen, the shop would be sold and the money given to the admiralty or the crown, certainly not to him.”

  “So, he hates you and the Bishop for cheating him out of a hefty purse. He killed the Bishop and framed you for it out of revenge?”

  “On the surface that sounds sensible, but why would he risk everything he has already earned for it? I would think him craftier than that. I would think he would have to stand to gain more than just satisfaction.”

  “And both your homes were thoroughly searched.”

  He sighed. “I need to find out what was on the Pandora.”

  She nodded. “Now, tell me how you managed to get your supplies back?”

  “Someone sent me a note. I don’t know who, though I am of a mind to suspect it was Bonny. I shall explain that part, later. At any rate, the note told me where my supplies were and that they were being taken out of the city to be sold. My family, or, more likely, my father, decided to turn a profit on it since he did not want me to have it for the shop. Anyway, I got there in time to convince the men there to allow me to have it.”

  As he spoke he could see her expression grow grimmer. “Do you really think your family would be so underhanded as to try and ruin you to force you to return to the business? And would you, even if the shop failed?”

  “It is possible. I cannot deny that they know that stealing my supplies would have crippled me, perhaps to the point where we could not recover. And that would force me to return to take my place, but only, I must admit, for your sake. I would not see you suffer for me, I beg you to know that.”

  She smiled at him for a second. “But wouldn’t Andrew fight?”

  “He’d be grateful. Besides, he has no say, and I know father would punish me for abandoning them, he would also place me back where I was, if for no other reason than that I have a better head for it.”

  “Bonny would have a fit. A thousand fits. She likes her new life far too well to go quietly.”

  “Aye, indeed. ‘Tis why I think she is the one who wrote me the letter. She is in good position to hear her husband’s plans, after all.”

  “Pray do not be cross with me, but would framing you for the murder ruin you sufficiently?”

  He shook his head. He hated that she thought of it, but loved the thoroughness with which she thought. “I considered that, but came to one simple conclusion—killing the Bishop, of all people, would be the worst business move my father could make. There are other murders I could have been framed for that would have less impact on the trade and be easier to get me out of, to the same effect.”

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “So, we have to worry about finding the murderer and keeping the shop from being attacked by your family. I doubt they will give up the battle so soon.” Her eyes narrowed. “I can take care of the latter. The sprites will protect their home fiercely, but I know of a few nasty cantrips that might keep anyone from getting too determined about the place.”

  For a second she looked like a proper hag, and he remembered, uneasily, the rumors that they used to eat their dead. “I shan’t even try to open the shop again until we’ve solved the mysteries. After all, we still have to figure out what happened to your dress.”

  “Perhaps malice? Your family does not much care for me, and some may even be a bit afraid of me. After all, the North and the South have a long tradition of mistrust since the war. The towers are still up along the border between our lands, and even though we pretend not to man them, we do. Our traditions are different, and I am different.”

  “I think that there is something that smacks of more than malice, dear. The footman who found your dress told me that Cecelia found the dress form, and that it was stabbed through the heart.”

  “How I wish you’d both forget about the dummy having been stabbed. The dress was on the dummy, of course it got stabbed. The dress was sheet covered, next to a window. I may be odd looking, but really, no one would confuse me for a headless dummy.”

  “But my dear, the dress was shredded, and it must have been here ... unless there were a lot of pearls in your room, as well?”

  “Only a few.” She admitted with reluctance.

  “But the only mark on the form was the stab mark over the heart.”

  “Do you think that it was done in a fit of pique, and then the actual shredding of the dress to cover it up?”

  “Well, someone was certainly displeased, yes.”

  She sighed. “I just wish they’d not taken it out on my dress. I could have defended myself.”

  He shivered, but didn’t say anything about that. “We shall get to the bottom of things,” he said. “But you must allow Cecelia to sleep in your room. She will gladly do so, I think.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I do not wish to sleep alone if someone is prone to attacking dress dummies. Who knows what they might do next?”

  Chapter 18

  Jarien fourth, Sapphire Moon Quarter 1790

  William,

  You are not the only one who hears tales of the Pandora. My students can speak of little else; they all know a cousin of a cousin or a friend of a friend who has seen her, and tell tales of shroud- black sails and the screams of the doomed souls who sail her. These stories I pay no mind to, but the stories I do hear, and with worry, are the ones of people who have actually encountered her. I am more convinced that a weather-witch is at work on her decks, but weather witches of any real power are a thing of myth—you hear of women who could command the tides with a wiggle of their toes, the wind by combing their hair, but as far as I know those women of power died years ago.

  Still, I would feel better to know that you are drinking the moly tea I sent you. I know it tastes a bit like onions, but it will diffuse any magic spells sent directly at you.

  Yours, eventually,

  Tasmin

  The day started vile and was not getting better. Tasmin had tried to sneak off to see William, but was stopped by an invitation from the Dragon Lady, who was determined that on such a rainy, miserable day, her present and future daughters and she herself would spend the time in the parlor sewing or “occupying themselves in a similarly appropriate fashion.” Herself was not at all for small talk, and the hours were passed in silence.

  When Tasmin received a summons from Eric Lavoussier, she was not sure if she was pleased or frightened. A carriage had been sent, and so she had no choice but to leave immediately.

  She found that Eric Lavoussier, when she finally arrived and was ushered in to see him, was an extraordinarily handsome man. Handsome enough that when Tasmin was brought in to see him she stopped abruptly before she allowed herself to be led to the chair. Eerily blue eyes, like William’s, she thought, though she supposed that everything would remind her of William now.

  “Herb Lady Bey.” He bowed, and she was stopped again, but managed to throw herself into a short curtsey.

  “I keep dismaying you,” he teased with a kind smile. “Please, will you have a seat? And some tea?”

  “No, this is just the first time since I came here that I have heard myself called by my title, though, it is Herb Mistress, I fear. I gave up the title of lady when I left the university.”

  “Ah. I am sorry, for I know that is not all you gave up to come here. I must say, I laud your efforts. When I heard what you had done, I tol
d myself that I must make your acquaintance, for you must be an extraordinary creature.”

  Tasmin’s ear for compliments always turned suspicious when they were ladled on by a man she’d never met, so her smile was a little less giddy when she accepted the tea. “I am merely a woman, sir, who wishes to do what is proper and best.”

  “Coming down from the far north to help a man you have never previously met ... unless you broke that rule, as well?” His teasing lilt spoke of fondness, as if he liked the idea of her breaking that rule, that it would be just like her.

  She shook her head and he continued, “Ah, well. But still, your journey here does not speak much of propriety. Why, you had people speaking of you immediately by the very mode you entered our town. As if the wind itself had swept you in, they say.”

  She winced. That certainly had been a misjudgment on her part, one she should never have allowed. “A trick of the wind, perhaps. Certainly nothing I had planned.”

  “Yet, here you are, and with nothing to show for it.” He sipped his tea. “Your investigations have yielded nothing thus far?”

  “Investigations, sir? But, if you speak of the murder in which my intended was thought to be involved, have you not caught the killer, so that my innocent fiancé and I may continue with our lives in peace?”

  “Have you met Franny Harker?” Again, Tasmin shook her head to allow him to continue. “Then you must. You will see a creature incapable of such a foul deed.”

  “But poison is most often a woman’s crime, is it not? Men usually like things more certain. More sanguine.”

  “Still, she did not commit the murder.”

  “And you know that? For certain?” Of course you do, because you are the murderer, not that I am foolish enough to put tongue to such a thought in your lair. “I am surprised that with you as her champion she is still behind bars.”