by Jeff Wheeler
“What did Mr. Savage say about the storm after it was through?” Cettie asked.
Fitzroy chuckled. “He thought my warning was odd, but when the storm happened, his next response was to call me a harbinger—one who can see the future. Imagine this, Cettie. Imagine a world in which every sky ship is equipped with one of your devices. Every major city throughout the empire will have them, too. Just think—we can know the weather in the farthest reaches of the empire, even sitting here at Fog Willows. And this season is the perfect opportunity to test it, for storms will come regularly from now until winter.”
Cettie beamed at him. “When are you going to tell the prime minister?”
“Soon,” Fitzroy said. “This was our first major test. I’d like to do a few more before spreading the news to our leaders. We have uncovered a Mystery, Cettie. It will likely be a state secret, one that only a privileged few will ever know.” He looked at her approvingly and lightly touched her nose. “And you will be one of them.”
His praise made her flush with warmth. “I can’t wait until I can go to school,” she said, staring at the cylinder of glass capped with a pointy end. “I want to learn more of the Mysteries.”
“You will go to one of the finest schools in the empire,” Fitzroy said. “You already have a strong affinity for the Mysteries, Cettie. It usually begins at a young age. I’m surprised you haven’t already felt the stirrings.”
She looked up at him. “I have.”
He paused, giving her a secret smile. “I thought perhaps you had. Do you remember the night of the Hardings’ ball? The night you fainted? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“Of course I do,” she answered. “Something strange happened to me that night.”
“Tell me,” he said, but she could see in his eyes that he already knew.
“While I was watching the ball, I felt something calling to me. It was as if the manor were alive, and I could hear what it was hearing and feel what it was feeling.” She looked down at her hands.
“Go on,” he coaxed.
She felt a little twinge of guilt—she knew spying wasn’t a thing ladies did, or at least not one they admitted to—but pressed forward. “I saw Sir Jordan’s mother talking to Mrs. Simmons. I w-wanted to know what they were saying. And then I could overhear their conversation, as if I were standing there next to them.”
“Extraordinary,” Fitzroy whispered.
“I felt as if maybe I shouldn’t be listening in, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t try to do it. It just happened.”
“While I normally don’t condone eavesdropping, that you can do it at all is nothing short of astonishing. It’s quite unheard of. Especially at your age. And what was Mrs. Harding saying to Mrs. Simmons? Do you remember? Was she deploring the fashion of a young woman’s dress?”
Cettie felt a shadow on her heart. “No. She was talking about you and how you rescued Lady Maren’s reputation. Back when she was shunned from society.”
Fitzroy was taken aback. “Was she indeed?”
“They said something about a man she used to love. Before she loved you.”
She saw the look of pain in his eyes, the subtle crinkling of his brow. There was still a partially healed wound there. She instantly regretted sharing the gossip.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
He waved aside her discomfort. “It pains me that she still talks about it,” he said softly. “Not that it happened. It was a long time ago, Cettie. Well, did you hear anything else of interest?”
She swallowed, feeling conflicted. There was more.
“Go ahead,” he said encouragingly. “There is nothing you can say that I wouldn’t want to hear. And I’d prefer to set the record straight with you. The stately Mrs. Harding knows a great deal. But she does not know all of it.”
She yearned to tell him about Mrs. Pullman. But that was impossible. Mrs. Pullman had made it so.
“Mrs. Harding thinks that I may be the daughter of your lost love.”
If her previous comment had caused him to flinch, this one made him writhe. The expression on his face changed markedly, and she could see the hurt and wretchedness on his countenance. He leaned forward, hunching his shoulders, letting his head sag. His lips quivered with suppressed emotion.
“Ah, so they are still talking about her,” he said with pain lacing his voice.
“Who was she?” Cettie asked sympathetically, touching his arm.
Fitzroy shook his head, trying to master his emotions. The pain was still raw, still buried like a thorn beneath the skin. It was festering and sore.
She was trying to comfort him. It made her so sad to see him suffering.
He glanced down at her hand and sighed. “I don’t tell this story very often, Cettie. Not even to my children. I prefer to keep my privacy. But since you only know part of the tale, I will provide a few more details.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised.
He patted her hand. “I know you wouldn’t. I trust you.” He turned away, his voice changing. He tried to keep his tone lighthearted, but there were cracks. “When I was a young man, my parents took in a ward, a young woman who had been abandoned by her parents. They’d signed away a deed for the rest of her life for a modest sum. I was away at school when they brought her home. Her name was Christina.” A little sigh escaped his mouth. “My father bought her deed with the intent of her becoming a lady’s maid for my mother. Nothing more. She was sixteen. Although I was younger, I was far more knowledgeable about the world than her. Or so I thought.” He chuckled darkly. “Music has always fascinated me, and back then I used to play the clavicembalo with much vigor. Sometimes, she would neglect her duties and listen to me play, either my own songs or some of the popular music of the day. They were modest accomplishments. I’m not trying to boast. But I would often catch her staring at me, showing interest in the music. I offered to teach her in secret, because I knew my parents would not approve. Then I went back to school, but I kept thinking about her and wondering about her progress. When I came back to Fog Willows, I saw that she’d improved quite a bit. It made me so proud of her.” He cleared his throat. “I was very young, but I began to have a bit of a fancy for her.”
Cettie continued to gaze at him, deeply interested in his story. It was difficult imagining Fitzroy as young as Stephen. His graying hair prevented such a vision. But she felt a pang of sadness already, knowing the story would end badly. “Was she kind to you?”
“Indeed,” Fitzroy added, looking at her. “She didn’t have airs. She worked hard to please my mother and didn’t aspire for anything beyond my friendship. I taught her several duets, pieces that we could play together. She was eager to learn them, eager to listen to my stories from school. I could see a hunger for learning in her eyes.” He shrugged. “We became close friends. Companions, really. And then I went back to school again. My parents wanted me to distinguish myself in the Law or War. But I had always been more drawn to the Wind. I thought I might be a musician. When I returned the next summer, she had grown so beautiful that I thought my aching heart would be wrenched apart. It became impossible to keep my feelings a secret. I told her honestly how I felt. That I was drawn to her, and if it were up to me, she would study at the same school and master the same talents that I had.” He scratched the side of his head, looking quite uncomfortable. Then a little smile played on his mouth. “She took my hand and kissed my fingers and said that her heart would always be mine, whether or not circumstances prevented us from being together.”
He sighed forlornly. “She was a harbinger. They did. When I told my father about my intention to court her, he flew into a rage. I’d never seen him so angry, neither before nor after. I was his only son, and he threatened to bequeath Fog Willows to his younger brother if I defied him. He said music had made me too passionate, and he forbade me to play the cembalo. He compelled me to join the Ministry of War and paid for a commission. Even so, I was determined to keep faith with Chris
tina. I’d give up the estate and make my fortunes in the military. I promised to come back for her.” He heaved another ragged sigh. “Knowing my determination to defy him, my father preempted me. Before I finished school, he sold her deed and sent her to the Fells. I searched and searched for her, but my father refused to disclose what had been done to her. And then I was deployed on a hurricane to a distant part of the empire. By the time I returned and could search for her in earnest, it’d become an impossible quest. I hired advocates with my midshipman’s wages to conduct the search in my absence. The same advocates that you met in the Fells.”
He folded his arms and stared into the distance. “Would it not be a twist of fate, my dear Cettie, if the woman I am seeking, the woman who gave birth to you, is, in fact, Christina? I don’t know the truth. I do know that when I first met you, I was struck by the force of your presence. I felt compelled to help you. Did that come from your desire to leave the Fells? Your ability to see the ghosts? Or was it something even more powerful? Sometimes I think Christina is nothing more than a ghost now. I’ve tried everything to find her. But still she eludes me.”
He began to pace slowly, his seething feelings apparent beneath his calm exterior. “When I met Lady Maren, her mother had been disinherited and was on the verge of the extreme measure of signing a deed for one of her daughters. Sir Jordan, a distant cousin, took them all in and gave her a reduced rent in light of her reduced circumstances. Maren shared my passion for music . . . for life. I’d been a bachelor for a long time by then, hoping against hope to somehow fulfill my promise. In time, and it was gradual, I came to have feelings for Maren. She did not care very much for me back then.” A wry smile lit his face. “But through persistence and kindness, I won her heart.” He paused for a long moment, and then added, “I’ve always harbored sympathy for those trapped in the Fells. If I could change their circumstances, I would. And I cannot deny that something powerful drew me to you that night at Miss Charlotte’s. I am grateful that our paths crossed. More grateful than I can express.” He gave her a warm smile. “I’ve come to care for you quite strongly, Cettie. I want you to have a happier life than you’ve known.”
Cettie’s respect for him had deepened with the tale. She stared into his eyes, willing him to ask her a question that would reveal the truth about his household—and the poison that was infecting it from within. Ask me about Mrs. Pullman, she thought. Please, you must ask me. If you ask me, then maybe I will be able to tell you.
His eyebrows narrowed. “Is everything all right, Cettie?”
She shook her head slowly.
“Is there something you wish to tell me? Something you know?”
She felt her tongue already swelling. But she defied it, nodding yes.
“What is it?” he asked.
And, once again, she couldn’t speak. Almost at that very moment, Kinross entered the study. “Sir, I just received word that the prime minister wishes you to attend him at the City. The weather portends to be clear. I don’t know the reasons for this summons, but this may be the opportunity we’ve all been waiting for.”
The butler smiled broadly. Cettie’s heart fell.
CHAPTER THIRTY–TWO
REVENGE
It was time for Fitzroy to leave for Lockhaven. His tempest hovered over the landing dock. The air contained the shiver of autumn, and every day, the manor in the clouds was a little colder. Fitzroy was going with Raj Sarin, so Cettie’s training with him would be interrupted. A deep sense of foreboding weighed on her. She desperately longed to talk to Fitzroy before he left, to confess her fears and to warn him about Mrs. Pullman. But the older woman’s power kept her silent. And he was so interested in leaving for the City and talking to the prime minister that he hadn’t noticed her change in mood.
Lady Maren was wrapped in a cloak as she walked, arm in arm, with Fitzroy from the manor. Anna and Cettie trailed behind. Raj Sarin waited by the tempest, and he gave Cettie a respectful nod as she approached.
“Good morning, Cettie Saeed,” he greeted.
“Good morning, Raj Sarin,” she replied.
“I want you to keep practicing the Way while I am gone with the master. Will you do that?”
“Of course I will,” she replied with a smile. “I will miss our lessons.”
“Is everything all right, Cettie Saeed? You look troubled.”
Her heart was sick with worry, but there was no way to tell him that, so she merely nodded and shrugged. Her throat instantly began to swell.
“I don’t know how long I will remain in Lockhaven,” Fitzroy said to Lady Maren. He gripped her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “The prime minister will likely ask for demonstrations, which will require a storm. It’s possible I’ll be gone for several weeks. It is not uncommon for storms to strike this time of year, and that would prevent a return home. But I will come as soon as I can.”
“I don’t like it when you leave us,” Lady Maren said, pressing her cheek against his chest while he held her. “Anna did not do so well the last time you were gone.”
“I’m worried about her, too,” Fitzroy said. “Send word if anything changes. I’ll respond as quickly as I can.”
“Travel safely, my love,” Lady Maren said, leaning up and kissing him on the mouth. “I am worried this time. I know I shouldn’t be, but I have a feeling of dread.”
Lady Maren’s words only heightened Cettie’s sense of gloom. She wished that Fitzroy would take her. But she’d already caused him enough trouble with his political peers, and he was going to see the prime minister. It wouldn’t do for her to come.
Fitzroy looked at his wife in concern. “If anything happens, send for me at once.”
“But the prime minister . . . ?” Lady Maren said. “He is such a greedy man. All the ministers are. Will the prime minister attempt to claim your invention for himself?”
Fitzroy shook his head. “I have known him for a good many years, love. I’m fully aware of his character. I have no intention of revealing all that I know, not until I’ve secured the rights through the Ministry of Law.”
“You are wise, Husband. And I’m comforted that Raj Sarin is going with you.”
After giving her a final embrace, he knelt before Anna and hugged her fiercely. “Be brave, Felicianna.”
“I’ll try, Papa,” she answered, her voice quavering. She wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing hard, and kissed him. “I love you!”
“And I love you, child. Sweet Anna. It hurts to leave you all.”
“Be brave, Papa,” she said, smiling through her tears.
He turned, still kneeling, and beckoned Cettie to him. She rushed forward and hugged him just as hard as Anna had, feeling comforted by the embrace.
“And I love you, Cettie Saeed,” he said, giving her a tight squeeze. “As if you were my own.”
Cettie closed her eyes, relishing the delicious feelings that swept into her heart at the words. “I love you, Fitzroy,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.
As he rose and brushed a tear from his eye, he gave her a quavering smile. “Now you, young lady, have an especially important duty while I am gone. You must record the readings here at Fog Willows and report them to Kinross. He will make sure that I get them. This is an important responsibility, Cettie. Can I count on you?”
She nodded vigorously. “You can, sir.”
“That is good. Discipline must be maintained.” He gave her a smart salute. He gazed at each of them in turn, his gentle smile a balm to Cettie’s troubled heart. “You are all precious to me. I cannot return soon enough. But duty to the empire calls, and I must obey.”
He then turned and climbed up the rope ladder to the tempest. Raj Sarin still waited below. Giving Cettie another scrutinizing glance, he then took a deep breath and began to float up to the tempest, arriving just after Fitzroy.
Even though she shivered from the cool air, Cettie watched until the tempest faded out of sight, long after Lady Maren and Anna had gone inside.
The bell awoke Cettie from the middle of a terrible dream. Her eyes blinked open in the darkness, and she found herself cold and cramped on the floor of the garret. It had been a miserable night of lying awake in fear, dreading the tall ghost’s arrival. Its touch chilled her heart, made her feelings numb with cold. Now that the children weren’t around to keep her safe, she finally knew what it wanted, because she could sense its thoughts. It wanted to engulf her, to steal her life and energy for itself, but somehow it couldn’t. Perhaps her hope and the love she felt for Fitzroy and his family kept it from totally engulfing her. But her dreams had been of the Fells that night, and she felt disoriented and sick inside. The bell sounded again, and Cettie scrambled to the trapdoor and opened it, hugging her blanket close.
She scurried down the ladder into Mrs. Pullman’s room and found the stern woman standing there with a lantern. The sun had not yet risen, and it was very dark outside. Cettie shivered beneath her nightdress and blanket, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Don’t just stand there. Put your dress on.”
Cettie looked for her chest, but it was gone. In its place was something else. She gasped in surprise and sudden fear. It was her old, ragged dress, the one she had been wearing upon her arrival to Fog Willows.
She looked at Mrs. Pullman, dread threading inside her stomach.
Mrs. Pullman smiled archly. “Put it on, child.”
“What’s happening?” Cettie demanded.
Mrs. Pullman shrugged. “You are going back where you belong.”
Cettie’s breath became faster. “You can’t make me go,” she said, backing away.
The wrinkles on Mrs. Pullman’s face quivered. “Insolent child,” she said sharply. “I cannot make you go? I’ve been planning this a good long while, little miss. You have never belonged here. You will never belong here. And at the master’s moment of triumph, you would steal his glory for yourself. Oh, this has been long overdue.”
Cettie backed away from her.
“You can’t leave this room without the key,” Mrs. Pullman said. “And if you won’t put on the dress willingly, then you will go back to the Fells wearing nothing but that shift.”