by Kari Edgren
“How does it work?” Amelia asked, now looking at the bottle as though it contained mystical powers.
“One teaspoon should be administered every hour until the fever has broken and the breathing returned to normal.” I pursed my mouth and looked at Thomas. “The ulcer sounds deep in his lungs, so we should also apply a poultice to his chest. Can you ask the maid to make something up? Either mustard seed or chopped onion will work. Just make sure it is warm enough to draw out the toxins.”
“I’ll do it at once.” Hope lit Amelia’s face as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the young man’s cheek. “Hold on, Tommy,” she murmured. “Miss Kilbrid will have you feeling better in no time.”
I waited until her skirts disappeared from view. Then setting the bottle aside, I urged a small fire to life right behind my ribcage. “Well, Thomas,” I said, when the first bit of warmth reached my fingertips. “It seems we are both in good fortune tonight.”
* * *
Morning arrived like a decrepit old woman, on feeble legs and shrouded in a thick gray shawl. Amelia and I had sat together through the night, keeping a silent vigil as we changed the poultice and administered teaspoons of violet water. With each hour, Thomas grew stronger, fed by the faintest trickle of power that slowly broke the fever and healed his damaged lungs. He had awakened for short periods of time, but now slept peacefully, undisturbed by the presence of two ladies slumped over on either side of the mattress
Yawning, I stood and stretched the soreness from my back, eager for my own bed. The movement woke Amelia, who lifted her head from the mattress and looked at me with bleary blue eyes. “Is it time for another dose?”
I fastened my cloak and pocketed the glass bottle. “The danger has passed,” I said, feeling a strange bond with this woman I had so recently despised. Under different circumstances we may have even been friends. “A few days’ rest, and he shall be good as new.”
A shuddering breath shook Amelia’s thin frame, and I thought she would succumb to the violent relief written plain as day on her face. Somehow she managed to confine the emotions to a radiant smile, and I understood the height of her joy, having experienced the depth of her sorrow. “Thank you, Miss Kilbrid,” she said, in a thick voice.
A lump formed in my own throat. “I should be going. Send word if any of the symptoms return.” I knew they wouldn’t, but it sounded better all the same.
As I hoped, she rose and followed me downstairs in search of the maid, who was sent straight away for a hackney coach. We then continued into the kitchen, and what appeared to be the sole fire and heat source on this floor, to wait her return. Amelia took a seat at a worn wooden table near the hearth, gesturing for me to do the same. I sat in the opposite chair, a placid expression covering my face like a painted placard to better hide the slow grinding of my thoughts. Under Brigid’s laws, the goddess born were forbidden to ask for payment in exchange for our gifts, whereas tokens or gestures of gratitude were deemed acceptable so long as they were freely given. The distinction had always been clear—until this morning when I planned to skirt dangerously close to the edge to get something specific in return for saving Thomas’s life.
Amelia glanced longingly at the iron kettle set a few paces from the hearth. “I would offer you tea, but my one servant has just gone to fetch the hackney, and I’ve no idea how to make the stuff myself.”
I stared at her, surprised that someone could live nineteen years without ever acquiring the skill to boil a pot of water. “You had other things to learn,” I said, in an attempt to act the diplomat.
She shrugged impassively. “And yet, despite my birth and years of training, there are those who consider me one of the oddest princesses they have ever known.”
A small, rather abrupt laugh escaped me as my gaze moved from the haggard young woman to skim over the humble kitchen. “Perhaps there is some truth in their words.”
Amelia also laughed, though it was devoid of any real mirth. “Granted, I am probably unconventional by most standards, otherwise we would both be in our beds this morning instead of sitting here together.” Her eyes dropped to the table and her neatly folded hands. “When Thomas fell ill, I had him moved to this house so I could visit without notice. Most of my servants at the palace wouldn’t think twice about informing on me to the king, which is why I have only the one girl. She is a scullery maid by trade, and faithful to a fault. When this is done, I shall send her to France to be trained in one of the best houses as a ladies maid. Then she will at least have a chance at a proper future.”
Deftly done. Kindness and precaution wrapped into one.
I raised a skeptical brow, unable to conceal the full measure of my doubt. “And this girl won’t mind living in a foreign country so far from home?”
Amelia sighed and lifted her eyes back to mine. “She has no choice, Miss Kilbrid, as you must understand.”
“An interesting reward for so faithful a servant,” I said, wondering what the princess had in store for me. Could I expect to be sent packing against my will?
“Her faithfulness is commendable, but over the years I’ve learned to trust very few people. Lord Fitzalan is one, and my cousin, Lady Beatrice. She is the reason I have been able to spend so much time away from the palace without suspicion. For the past week, I have been staying at her home to keep her company through a sudden malaise. If you hadn’t noticed, it was her carriage that brought us here last night.”
I hadn’t, though the lady must be part fool to help Amelia sneak around in defiance of her parents’ wishes. “Only a true friend would put herself in so much danger on your behalf.” Nora popped into my mind, but I quickly pushed the image away.
Amelia nodded. “Beatrice is a treasure among women, and braver than any man I know other than Lord Fitzalan.”
This was the second time she had mentioned Henry’s name, and I planned to make good use of it. By her own admission, she trusted him and admired his bravery. Through her emotions, she had admitted much, much more. “Henry told me that you’ve been acquainted since childhood.” I said, gently approaching the subject.
A smile touched her mouth. “He is in my earliest memories. Even as a small child when I was forced to live apart from my parents, Henry was always there.”
“But you do not love him, at least not in the way you love Thomas.”
In an instant, Amelia’s expression turned hard as defiance sparked in her eyes. Or was it challenge? “I won’t deny it,” she said, the imperial tone rearing its haughty head. “Henry is as a brother to me.”
“And what about Thomas? Will you deny your true feelings for him?”
Based solely on her actions in the bedchamber, I could never have made such an absolute claim without firsthand experience of her emotions. Amelia didn’t need to know this, any more than she needed to know how I had really healed Thomas.
The shake of her head was almost imperceptible. “No, I will not.”
“Then why did you insist on the keeping the betrothal in place?” Why have you been making my life a living hell?
We stared at each other for several long seconds. Then quite unexpectedly the defiant spark faded and her shoulders slumped forward from an invisible weight. “Because it was the only way.” She sounded miserable, as though pained by this vague admission.
I gave her an expectant look. “The only way for what?”
Her lips compressed to a stubborn line that irked me to no end. The carriage could arrive at any moment, and I was not about to lose this opportunity to gain what I wanted most in the world—what was mine by right if she would just move aside. “The only way for what, Amelia?” I asked, jumping straight to her given name in my growing agitation.
“It was the only way for me to have Thomas.” She spoke so softly, I had to strain to hear the words.
“What are you talking about? How can you
have Thomas if you’re married to Henry?”
With a long, weary breath, her head fell into her palms. “Don’t judge me,” she said, as much a command as a plea. “You’ve no idea how difficult it is for a lady in my position. From the outside it may appear to be all jewels and beautiful gowns. But as the daughter of a king, I am no more than well-dressed barter, to be awarded to the most politically advantageous and powerful bidder. Regardless of my feelings for Thomas, he is a commoner, a nobody in my world. We would never have been allowed to marry.”
“But why the betrothal to Henry?” I asked again. “How could that have possibly helped?”
A look of strained patience settled on her face. “My marriage to Henry had been spoken of since our infancy, and for most of my life I took for granted that someday we would wed. To be fair, if I hadn’t met Thomas, I would have willingly gone to Henry and loved him with all my heart.”
“You did meet Thomas, though.”
“Yes,” she said, drawing out the one word. “And for a time I had thought to refuse marriage altogether rather than be unfaithful to Thomas.”
I studied her face in an attempt to eke out some unspoken fragments of understanding. But try as I might, I could make neither rhyme nor reason of her actions. “Then why the change of heart?” I asked.
“About a year ago my aunt, Sophia Dorothea, wrote to my father to propose an alliance with her son. Though the match went against my mother’s express wish, it was almost too good for my father to decline.”
I raised a brow in question.
“Aunt Sophia is the Queen of Prussia and her son Fredrick is the crown prince. The match would have been politically expedient for both our countries. It would also have meant that I had to move hundreds of miles from England.”
The first tinges of understanding colored my thoughts. “And hundreds of miles from Thomas.”
Amelia nodded. “After I learned of my Aunt Sophia’s intentions, I begged my father to make the betrothal with Henry at once.”
I gasped. “Good heavens! You wanted to eat your cake and have it still.” And to eat my piece as well. No wonder gluttony was considered one of the seven deadly sins.
Amelia snorted, most unprincess-like, in my opinion. “Do not paint me a whore quite yet, Selah,” she said, also dropping the formal address. “I never intended to wed Henry, just to buy time until cousin Fredrick was safely married to someone else. Once Prussia was no longer an option, I would have then begged out of the betrothal with Henry, maybe feigned a prolonged feminine illness that would have made marriage impossible. Over the years, I’ve heard of several young ladies who have dodged the altar by such tactics.”
I really did feel sorry for her, but not to the point of sacrificing my own happiness, or allowing her to continue using Henry and me in an elaborate scheme against the king. After such a confession, very little stood in the way of getting what I wanted—except maybe the clatter of carriage wheels in the distance. A river of urgency flowed through me at their approach. “What do we do now?” I asked, in an attempt to hasten her amends.
Resignation weighed on her youthful face, making it appear older than a moment ago. “You saved Thomas’s life,” she said wearily, “and we both know there is only one reward equal to that service. I shall request that the betrothal contract be rescinded this evening.”
Not until the fist released its grip in my chest did I realize how tense I had been, and for a few slow breaths, I savored the joyous relief that so often followed a hard won battle. In the past six hours I had saved a man’s life, and received mine back in return.
“Thank you, Amelia.” The bargain settled, I stood to go.
She caught me by the wrist and pressed something into my palm. “A token of my esteem, Selah. Wear it, and no door in London shall be closed to you.”
A gold and sapphire ring glistened in my hand. “Releasing Henry is more than enough. I can’t take your jewelry. It wouldn’t be right.” I tried to give it back.
Her fingers closed around mine. “I traded Henry for Thomas. This ring is to apologize for my treatment of you the other night in my apartments. Please accept it as a sign of our friendship.”
A dozen thoughts flew threw my head, some nice, some not so nice. In the end, I simply nodded and left the room.
Chapter Fifteen
A Passage of Truth
I gazed into the mirror, determined to ignore the constant smile clinging to my face. Not that I hadn’t attempted a more dignified expression. But left unattended for a single moment, the smile crept back into the immoderate lines generally associated with lovesick schoolgirls. Or, in this specific case, a sensible, young lady whose romantic prospects had climbed with the sun.
Henry was expected home today, and the thought of relaying the good news broadened my smile further. With little effort, I could well imagine his surprise and joy to learn that the king no longer ruled our future. To be sure, the duke had stopped short of offering his support last night, but something told me it would not be long coming once word arrived from the palace regarding the betrothal. From my own hard-earned experience, the duke seemed a practical man—a man who knew the advantage of having a goddess born in the family.
Beth stood behind me, hairpins clamped between her teeth as she worked the usual magic on my unruly dark curls. With her wispy red hair, hazel eyes and a generous layer of freckles, we looked about as different as two people could. My happy mood spread like a contagion though, and she was soon grinning in turn.
“Ye look well pleased today, miss,” she said, doing her best to speak around the pins. “Must be ye had a pleasant outing with the princess last night.”
I started from her directness, the smile slipping somewhat from my face. No doubt, Amelia would pitch a fit if her parents learned the truth about Tommy from some blabber-mouthed servants. Not that she had anyone to blame but herself, storming into Cate’s drawing room like the reincarnate Queen of Sheba.
“Does anyone else know where I went last night?” I made a quick mental calculation as to how much it would cost to buy their silence on the matter.
Beth twisted another lock, and pinned it to the top of my head. “Just myself and Sophie, miss. And she made me swear an oath not to breathe a word to any of the other servants on pain of violent death.” She puckered her mouth around the remaining pins as the skin darkened beneath her freckles. “I ain’t never been one to tell my mistress’s secrets like some other maids, so there weren’t no need to threaten my person with pain and violence. I can keep my mouth shut, thank ye very much, and don’t need to be dead to do it.”
A giggle tickled my throat at the sight of her indignation. I pushed it back and smoothed my face into the very image of sympathy. “Don’t be offended, Beth. I’m sure Sophie meant no harm. She’s just overly protective of her mistress and does all she can to protect her ladyship’s good name.” A difficult task indeed, considering Cate’s propensity to come and go unaccompanied at all hours of the night. No wonder Sophie was so draconian in her measures to keep scandal at bay.
She slid in another pin. “That may be, miss, but I tell ye these Londoners are a strange lot.”
“Surely not all of them,” I teased. “Especially not a certain young footman.”
Beth blushed to her scalp. “He’s a fine young man, and doesn’t snub me like some of the other servants for being from the Colonies.”
“I’ve been snubbed a time or two myself.” I shrugged. “Different class, same prejudice.”
With the last hairpin secured, Beth started to weave a dark blue ribbon through the tamed curls. “From what I heard, that princess weren’t no friend of yers at the palace the other night, and if ye ask me, ’tis some nerve calling here to ask for help. Lucky for her, ye’ve been blessed with a kind and forgiving nature.”
I glanced at the gold and sapphire ring on the dres
sing table, in no way convinced of Beth’s assessment of my character. Feeling a tinge of guilt for the grudge I still harbored Amelia, I scooped up the ring and opened a drawer to stow it for the time being. As I nudged some of the other contents aside in search of a small leather pouch, I made a startling discovery.
“My knife is gone.”
Beth tucked the ribbon’s end from sight. “The one ye keep wrapped in the oilcloth?”
“Yes, have you seen it?” I pushed more items out of the way until the bottom of the drawer came into view.
“No, miss.” She stepped back and gave my hair an appraising look. “When did ye last have it?”
“The day Cate and I brought it to Mr. Faber’s shop. Once we returned home, I put the knife in the drawer before we left for the palace.” I paused for a moment, trying hard to recall if I had taken it out anytime after that night. Nothing came to mind, and I wondered if Cate had reason to borrow it. “Do you know if her ladyship is at home?”
Beth nodded. “Last I seen, she was overseeing the delivery of a new settee to her private chamber. Ye pulled the bell for me just as some clumsy lads were getting an earful for chipping a baluster.”
The knife was one of many reasons I needed to see Cate. Leaving Beth to straighten the dressing table and put my nightclothes away, I walked in the direction of the rooms located in the opposite wing. Female voices met me halfway, followed by laughter and the click of a door. Sophie appeared alone from the alcove that led to Cate’s chamber and walked toward me.
“May I help you, miss?” she asked, in a calm and pleasant tone that seemed incongruent coming from the girl who had so recently threatened my maid with physical harm.
“I need to speak with Lady Dinley.” I glanced over Sophie’s shoulder to the alcove. “Is she in her chamber?”
“Yes, miss. I just left her there myself.”