by A. W. Exley
A warm smile brushed Seth's lips. "Unrequited love? Why must authors torture their lovers? It would be a much happier ending if everyone was thoroughly satisfied instead."
My skin flushed with warmth at his words, or was it the look in his eyes? Either way, I had to stare at my hand and command it not to fan my face. "You're sounding like Frank now."
Lieutenant Bain coughed. Apparently I wasn't the only one embarrassed. Poor fellow, stuck in the middle of us as chaperon. Working alongside Seth created new struggles. Like how to keep things professional when he kept staring at me with a hungry gaze, or the way his hand brushed mine when he passed something over, or the heat of his touch on the small of my back when we stared at the map.
The more I learned of him, the more I saw depths hidden beneath the polite exterior. There was a private Seth that he kept locked away from view. A primal being who peeked out at stolen moments and made my heart beat faster.
I glanced at the journal in my hand and gathered my distracted thoughts. Paper had become my new battleground, and while I was relieved that I no longer laboured alone, my fingers itched to wield my sword to serve my parish. Or most likely, it was simply too much time spent inside. I had always preferred being outside and doing something.
"How goes Norman Lockyer's work on ley lines?" I struggled to believe in death roads and fae lines as anything more than fairytales. If we accepted the supernatural, did it mean witchcraft and Crowley's Satanism were also possibilities? I preferred a scientific explanation, one that could be measured in a laboratory.
Seth tapped a red thread that spanned the Somerset map. "He has the first part specifically for Somerset. As we suspected, Serenity House sits at an intersection of lines." His finger tapped a point where three strands crossed. "As Norman plots more of England we will add it to our map, but it is slow going given his age. We have unfortunately lost the work of Alfred Watkins, who relied on archaeology."
"Oh? I though Lockyer was the older of the two?"
"Yes. But Watkins decided to try and survey Stonehenge at dusk, on his own. His equipment was found the next morning. We suspect Turned have him now." Seth picked up a stray marker and squeezed it tight. Perhaps imaging what he would do to vermin who attacked harmless academics.
“I never thought being a scholar was such a fraught occupation.” I chewed my lip and hoped the vermin weren't seeking their own intelligence on what we were up to. I'd rather they continued stumbling around in the dark. "What of your local patrols? Did they find anything today?"
Seth had patrols of four soldiers criss-crossing the countryside, and they were required to keep detailed reports on any sign of vermin. Or 'Turned', as I called them in his hearing. He disliked the cruder moniker, especially since his father had fallen victim to the pandemic and been dispatched. Another twitch of his upper class sensibilities. Another reminder of my common origins. Another glimpse of the difference between the man hidden deep in his gaze, and the cool exterior of the duke.
"One, Miss Jeffrey," Lieutenant Bain answered. He picked up his clipboard and took a sheet from the top.
I took the report but my mind wouldn't concentrate on the last sighting; the concept of death roads preoccupied me. In their undead state, were they able to pierce the spirit veil and travel a path we couldn't perceive? They might have attacked Serenity House the night of the ball because of where Millicent deMage insisted the house be constructed. I rubbed my arms to dispel the chill conjured by such thoughts. The sooner we found and vanquished Elizabeth, the better.
The discreet knock heralded the arrival of Warrens. "Luncheon is served, your grace. In the conservatory today."
It sounded so posh, luncheon in the conservatory. It smacked of socialites nibbling on cucumber sandwiches while admiring the orchids. In reality it was twenty soldiers wolfing down pies and cold cuts, while making rude comments about the similarity of soaring palms to parts of their anatomy. And I loved their rough company. Seth and Lieutenant Bain carried out more civilised conversation while I eavesdropped on the enlisted men.
After luncheon, I took a quick walk around the garden to work the kinks out of my muscles while Seth conferred with his men and sent the afternoon patrols on their way. Then it was back to the office and another box of papers. By the time the grandfather clock struck five, words swam on the page before my eyes. Concentrating on facts and figures was far more tiring than slaying, I found.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I've had enough for today."
Seth followed me out to the stables and we discussed the commodore's theories as I tacked up my mare. As I gathered her reins in one hand, Seth placed his over mine.
"Before you go," he murmured. Then he captured my mouth in a languid kiss. His other hand went to my nape and his fingers buried in my hair as he held me in place.
I forgot vermin, death roads, and the ominous portrait of Millicent deMage. My world consisted of Seth and this moment. I wrapped one arm around him, mainly to keep my knees from buckling. This was the man I longed to see stripped naked, both of clothing and the trappings of his position.
He pulled back a fraction and rested his forehead against mine. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Yes," I said. There was something else I was supposed to say, but my mind had temporarily stopped working. Each time he kissed me I longed for a little more. More time, more touch, more skin. When would this hungry need be satisfied?
Laughter twinkled in his eyes as he stepped back so I could lead the mare out of the stables. "Goodnight, Ella."
Goodnight! That was the word my fuddled brain sought. "Goodnight, Seth."
7
Alice. Dreaming of the future
With Lady Jeffrey and her horrid daughters gone, life returned to a semblance of what it had once been. Not just how it was before the Great War, but before her invasion of our home. A time when I undertook honest labour for my wage and wasn't treated like servant scum.
I had only been ten years old when I kissed my mother goodbye and went to work for Sir Jeffrey. Children like Henry and me were expected to go into service young and work our fingers to the bone for our masters. But Sir Jeffrey let us be children first and domestics second.
Days exploring the forest and swimming by the old mill after chores cemented the friendship between me, Henry, and Ella. That dormant sense of family returned to the Jeffrey farm in Lady Jeffrey's wake. We pulled together to get the work done. While this would never truly be my home, it was the only family I had known for most of my life.
When one is born a servant, that is all one can expect of life—to serve. Friendship with Ella opened my eyes to the wider world. Perhaps it was cruel the way Sir Jeffrey raised us all together, for it made me dream of being more than a housemaid. If Ella could take up a sword as defender of our village in the Grim War, what could I do?
The world had changed around us. Women went to war as nurses or spies and now, in England, fought alongside men. Parliament had introduced a law to give women the vote. What else was possible? Ella teased about running for politics, but what was so ridiculous about that? I wanted to improve people's lives by doing more than sweeping, scrubbing, and laundry. The war would be won eventually, for evil could not be victorious, and I wanted to look forward to a different future.
As I changed the sheets on the bed and the expanse of cotton billowed over the mattress, I pondered my life as a housemaid. We weren't expected to have dreams. Our eyes could only look as far as the next floor and the possibility of being a lady's maid. Even mute Henry had a larger dream beyond service and was working on his application to art school. I wanted to reach out and grab a piece of this changing world for myself.
I plumped pillows and dusted, all the while plotting a revolution. If I stayed here in the same place, doing the same thing, my life would never change. I needed to step off the worn path and pick a less-travelled direction. If only I dared to do so on my own. Would Frank support me, or would he expect his girl to stay in the kitchen with chil
dren clustered at her ankles? Not that we had spoken of plans for the future. I couldn’t imagine a future without him, but that didn't mean he felt the same way about me.
After lunch, I sat and nursed a mug of tea. My mind still whirled with possibilities, complicated by thoughts of Frank. We had been going steady for six months, and the time had come to tell him how much I loved him. I longed to hear those three little words from his lips. I also wanted to see his gaze flare with hunger when he said them, preferably just before he kissed me senseless. After a toe-curling conclusion to that conversation, we could discuss the future.
The long sigh blew from between my lips and over my tea. Magda chuckled under her breath, as though she knew exactly who made me sigh. She probably did; I don't think I spoke another name anywhere near as often as I whispered Frank.
"Did you empty and clean Sir Jeffery's chamber pot?" Magda asked.
"Yes." I rolled my eyes. I should have taken up nursing. I would have had a smarter uniform and could have spent all day with fine-looking soldiers. Not that I objected to tending Sir Jeffrey; to say so would make me incredibly ungrateful. Yet thoughts of more kept invading my mind.
"You're a good girl, Alice. I hope you enjoy your afternoon out." Magda disappeared into the pantry and returned carrying a large wicker basket, which she dropped to the table.
Frank and I were going for a drive in the country followed by afternoon tea. Devilish man always knew the best and most secluded spots that were vermin free, where we could lie on a blanket. My idea of Heaven was time spent in Frank's arms. The things he did made my head spin, and I couldn't even mention them to Ella without blushing. Good girls shouldn’t enjoy that sort of thing, but oh, how I wanted to be a bad girl. We just had to keep one eye open for wandering vermin.
A shudder ran over my skin and I rubbed my arms to dispel it. Why did I have to think of those horrid undead things? Surely this war would turn now Ella worked for the War Office. She seemed more knowledgeable than the top brass in charge. Any day now, I expected her to dance through the kitchen door singing that the evil witch was dead, all vermin were slayed, and England was free once more.
"Alice, are you listening?" Magda's voice called me from visions of Ella defeating all the undead in England single-handedly while the duke swooned at her feet.
"Sorry. Miles away." Truth be told, I missed Ella. For years we worked together, and it seemed odd to do all the chores on my own. At night I walked up the stairs alone to our attic. Funny how I always complained her snoring kept me awake, but now I couldn't sleep without it.
"Tea or hot chocolate?" Magda held up the metal vacuum flask.
"Hot chocolate. Frank has such a sweet tooth." He always carried toffees in his pockets. It amazed me his teeth didn't fall out, but the clever man kept lollies in one pocket and toothpicks in the other, to clean his teeth afterwards.
"He's a fine-looking man, that Frank. If only I were twenty years younger and not married." She winked as she filled the kettle and set it to boil. Next, Magda found the canister with the chocolate.
He certainly was fine. One wink from him and any lady, whatever her age, would giggle like a young girl. I considered Frank more handsome than Seth, although for some reason Ella couldn't see it. Seth was so stiff and formal, as though even his underwear was starched. Whereas Frank could have a laugh. Sometimes he would sweep me off my feet and spin me round and round until I squealed for him to stop.
Today was a special day; I had designs on my man. I had even baked a cake and iced it before placing fat slices in a tin. Once the kettle whistled, we made the hot chocolate and Magda screwed the flask’s lid on tight. Cheese and crackers went in last, in case we felt like something a little savoury.
As I closed the lid of the basket and did up the buckle, the back door swung open.
"Here's my two favourite ladies." Frank grinned and strode across the floor, making a beeline for Magda. He kissed her cheek, and the cook blushed red.
"Get away with you. I'm a married woman." She flapped her apron at him.
"I hope Stewart knows what a lucky man he is." Frank winked at Magda before he turned to me. There was no kiss hello for me. He would save that until we were alone and uninterrupted. "Ready, love?"
He called me love. That meant he loved me, surely?
I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'll just grab my hat and a shawl."
Frank picked up the basket and opened the door for me. A motorbike with a sidecar sat outside the house. My heart dropped in my chest. This was hardly romantic. I frowned at Frank. It was probably too much to expect that he would have the duke's Rolls Royce, but a girl can dream about a little luxury in her life.
"You'll have to hang on to the basket," he said as he held my hand and helped me into the rickety sidecar. As soon as I sat on the hard bench, he plonked the basket in my lap. I wrapped the shawl over the top of my hat and around my shoulders to secure it to my head.
Thankfully, we didn't travel too far. The two-wheeled contraption shook and rattled so badly I suspected our hot chocolate would be nothing but froth by the time we reached our destination. My bones ached from the jarring, and I had bugs stuck in my teeth. At least I still had my hat, but the shawl had flattened the feathers at the back.
"I don't know what Ella sees in horrid motorbikes," I muttered as Frank helped me climb from the sidecar. I brushed out my skirt while the hum through my bones subsided.
"It's the feeling of being closer to your speed. Nothing quite like it when you crouch over the handlebars, open her up, and the wind hurtles past you." Frank patted the motorcycle as though it were a loyal horse. Then he picked out the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. His machete hung at his hip, attached to his belt.
I grimaced; a horse and cart or lovely motor would be preferably any day. In fact, I would rather walk than climb back into that metal death trap.
"Come on, love, I've found us a grand spot for today." Frank took the basket in one hand and held out his other to me.
He gave me that wide smile, the one that warmed my insides and made me forgive him practically anything. I took his hand and let him lead me into temptation. He had found us a lovely spot, not too far away from either the farm or Serenity House. Before us was a lush paddock, full of riotous autumn wildflowers. The range of colours was like one of Henry's paintings. Hues blended from white and pale yellow daisies through to the magenta of clover and the intense violet of cornflowers. An old elm stood to one side, its bark gnarled by time and weather. The graceful tree spread its limbs to create an umbrella, but at the same time the lack of surrounding trees meant a good line of sight. No one, or no thing, would be able to creep up upon us unseen.
I clutched Frank's hand as we walked through the grass, my anchor in this wild ocean. Long seed heads tickled the slight gap between the top of my boots and the bottom of my skirt. He led me to the tree and then took the blanket from under my arm, flapping it out before laying it on a clear spot. I sat in the middle with my feet tucked under my skirt.
"What delights did Magda pack?" Frank placed the rifle to one side and unhooked the machete, then dropped to his knees and opened the basket. First he pulled out the vacuum flask, and then the tin of cake and the wrapped cheese and crackers.
Over the last few months, Frank and I had developed a routine for our quiet time together. We would eat a brief afternoon tea, chat of nothing, and trade heated glances while tension built between us. Then he would pull me to the blanket and teach me something new about pleasure, his weapons always close to hand for the rare occasion a lumbering vermin tried to disturb us.
Except today the butterflies in my stomach were more anxious than anticipatory. I teetered on the brink of a cliff and wanted to find the courage to step off into the void. Would Frank catch me? How would I survive, if he let me fall?
"Hey." He tapped the end of my nose. "You still with me?"
I leaned on one elbow and studied the strong planes of his face, while considering how I
would even begin to explain what was going on in my head. "What do you want out of life, Frank?"
He shrugged. "What do you mean? I have it pretty good."
"Don't you want more than being in service?" It was an open secret that Frank was Seth's half-brother, but how could he trail behind as the duke's man, only a step up from a servant? War split our world apart and it reformed. The impossible had happened when the dead arose, and now was the time for us to seize our own destinies. Frank could be anything he wanted, if he put his mind to it.
"I want to see an end to the vermin, so life can return to normal." He sat up and met my gaze. "Whatever is going on in that beautiful head? Not thinking of climbing higher than maid, are you?”
His teasing hurt. "Is that all I will ever be, a maid?"
He chuckled, a soft noise supposed to brush aside all my concerns, but it only irked. Was everything a lark to him? "You're my girl, Alice, not many get to say that."
My chest swelled and I opened my mouth to speak. Then I closed it again. I loved him, but why couldn't he see I wanted more than to be a maid or his girl? I wanted to be Alice, whoever she may be. The roles available for women were so dreadfully limited and I hated it. Why couldn't I be brave like Ella? Why not grab a sword and carve out my own way in this world?
"Hey, why so serious? Life has cast the dice and this is our lot." He reached out and took my hand, his thumb stroking my palm.
"But it's not fair." My eyes stung hot as tears threatened to spill. "Ella is challenging tradition and breaking free. Why does she get to do more than marry and keep house? Why can't I dream of being something else?"
He pulled me closer until I nestled at his side, gazing up at the rare frown on his face. "Steady on, love. No one is talking about taking on a ball and chain just yet. I thought you were happy at the Jeffrey farm?"
"I want to help women and children to have better lives, not just change linen." Thoughts swirled in my head so fast I didn't know which one to grab. I sat up and pushed on his chest as I blurted out the first thought I could grasp. "I want to go into politics and make real changes in the world like Emmeline Pankhurst."