“I can discover where he will be,” Sophia said, “and when, though I do not believe I can accomplish that without revealing my interest in him. He will probably assume I am trying to avoid him. I suppose—” She put her hands over her face. “Daphne, this is madness!”
“No, it is sensible, since I don’t believe you will be able to stick to this new resolution of yours. At least my plan has the virtue of providing you something concrete to focus your attention on, instead of fumbling around with Dreams.”
“I don’t fumble!”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, we can do nothing for the next several days. Today I must rest, and tomorrow is Christmas Day, and it may take me some time to learn when Lord Endicott will be away from his house.”
“That’s all right. I’ll call on you every day starting day after tomorrow, and then we will make further plans. Oh, this is so exciting! Is this how it feels to work in the War Office?”
Sophia closed her book and ran her fingers across its buckram cover. It was as if her blood were fizzing in her veins, as if she could leap from the couch and run through the streets of London. “No,” she said, “it is so much better.”
Learning the details of Lord Endicott’s movements was as simple as asking Cecy and Lewis, before accepting an invitation, whether he would not be there. Cecy gave her the most sympathetic look when she asked the question that Sophia felt horribly guilty at lying to her—but Cecy would be happier not knowing her dearest friend contemplated embarking upon a life of crime. Not that Sophia intended her criminal activities to extend beyond illegally entering Lord Endicott’s house once. The idea still excited her, and not just because of the possibility of thwarting him; it disturbed her that stepping outside the law, even to this small degree, could make her feel so exhilarated.
She had prepared herself for a long, patient wait, imagining herself as a lioness waiting, crouched in tall sunburnt grasses, waiting for the zebra to come calling at the waterhole, so she was surprised when, in the drawing room on the third day after Christmas, Cecy said, “You need not fear, dearest, Lord Endicott will not be at Almack’s tonight. Lord Chumleigh is hosting a gala, and Lord Endicott is certain to attend.” She made a face. “The Viscount and his friends play very high, and I sometimes suppose Lord Chumleigh might as well turn his home into a gambling house, and save himself the trouble of sending out invitations. But I am grateful, this once, that Lord Endicott is so fond of gambling, if it means you do not have to deny yourself the pleasure of going out in public.”
“I am so relieved to hear it,” Sophia said, rubbing her temple in a way she hoped looked offhand. “It would be so difficult to have to endure his company. I am afraid that makes me a coward.”
“No, not at all! You have no way to defend yourself against him—that means it is simply common sense. And if you feel you would like to leave the city, we could always go back to Reedings for the rest of the winter, or to Bath—”
“I will not have him believing I have run away from him! No, I will simply avoid him when I can, and endure him when I cannot.” This time she rubbed her temple and gave a little wince of pain.
“Do you have a headache, Sophy?” Cecy asked.
“Just the tiniest twinge,” Sophia said. “Nothing of consequence. Would you like me to read while you sew? Or are we expecting company?”
She kept up the pretense of being in pain all morning, though she protested she felt well enough to sit and write letters when Cecy insisted she rest. Having posted a message to Daphne as well as to her parents, she finally gave in to Cecy’s demands and went to lie on her bed after a light meal just after noon. With the prospect of Vision within her reach, she felt no temptation to Dream—had, in fact, done no Dreaming since the Duchess’s disastrous party. The memory of lying collapsed on the Duchess’s Oriental rug made her cheeks burn.
She tried not to consider the aftermath at all. Mr. Rutledge had been so solicitous of her comfort, had tricked her into using her Dreams on his behalf, had rescued her from the Duchess and the prurience of her guests, had pretended to be her friend so he would have an excuse to converse with her… Those things were all so at odds with each other that she could not tell what was true anymore. It didn’t matter. If she could avoid Lord Endicott, she could avoid Mr. Rutledge, and not be put in a position where she would have to express her gratitude, for she was grateful; she simply could not bear to be indebted to him.
By suppertime, Sophia really did feel ill, having spent the time in her room fretting over the upcoming burglary when she was not trying to bolster her resentment of Mr. Rutledge, which had, to her frustration, begun to fade. She ate, but listlessly, and in the end did not have to complain of a headache, because Cecy said, “You look terrible, Sophy, and I believe you should not come to Almack’s tonight. Stay home and try to sleep, please.”
“I will,” Sophia said, and went back to her room. She waited half an hour before summoning Beeton to help her dress in a dark, plain gown. “I feel well enough to sit and read, but this gown is too wrinkled now,” she said. Eventually she was settled in the drawing room with a book she pretended to read. After fifteen minutes, she stole downstairs, retrieved her cloak, and slipped out the front door and down the street.
Daphne was waiting in a gaudy landau around the corner. Its top was down, and a man in a heavy black coat and hat sat on the high seat with his hands on the reins and an air of complete indifference to whatever his passenger might do. Daphne wore her Bounder uniform and a dark cloak much like Sophia’s own, her hair was pinned tightly about her head, and she was flexing her fingers in their tawny kid gloves when Sophia approached. “I have been waiting forever,” she said, “and I’m sure poor Brutus wishes we were moving, he hates standing still in the traces. We had to drive around the street once because people—though there are not many people about at this hour, but this is a rather striking vehicle—I know, but it was the only one Clevis could justify—”
“I apologize for the delay,” Sophia said, climbing up awkwardly to sit next to Daphne, “but I suppose it will be better if we do this in darkness, though it will be harder for us to see well.”
“I agree. Clevis, please take us to Windermere Street.”
Clevis snapped the reins next to the horse’s ear, and the landau moved off at a brisk pace. “Clevis is devoted to me,” Daphne said, “and he won’t tell anyone where we went tonight. Though,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “I didn’t tell him anything of what we planned to do, as I’m sure he would consider it his duty to tell mama and papa. So he will let us off some short distance from where we want to go, and then return home. I hope we are not pursued, because we would have no transportation, and then we might be caught.”
She did not sound upset by this possibility. Sophia’s stomach clenched in anticipation. Being caught was unthinkable.
“You are certain you can get us both inside?” she said.
“Very certain! But there is a degree of luck involved. There must be an open window—not open exactly, just not curtained—so I can see the room I will Bound to. And you will have to come with me, because I won’t be able to Bound back for you, not to the outdoors that is. You see, every indoor space has a different essence—that is its shape and what it contains and where everything is, not like the signatures ordinary Bounders use—so if I can see the room, I can memorize its essence and Bound to it. Though it will take a little time, because it is dark—but at any rate this becomes much simpler, and I daresay the simpler we can make it, the better.”
“I see.” Sophia relaxed a little. Daphne’s enthusiasm had worried her with the possibility that her cousin was not taking this seriously. “So you will Bound us inside, and we will locate the right object, and then… how do we escape? Why do we not have Clevis wait for us?”
“Because, as I said, I can’t Bound to an outdoor location. It’s far too complex, even for me,” Daphne said without a trace of modesty. “So we will Bound back to papa’s
house, and then Clevis will take you home! See how simple it is?”
“I believe there are still a dozen things that might go wrong, starting with being caught by Lord Endicott’s servants, but it is a very clever plan, Daphne.”
“Of course it is. And as I said, simple is best. The real danger is it might take you a while to find the right object, because the longer we are inside, the more likely it is that someone will find us.” Daphne groped around by her feet and came up with a small lantern. “This should provide enough light without giving us away, if the house is dark, which I hope it is. Oh,” she said, suddenly crestfallen, “you are right, there are so many things that might go wrong!”
“Yes, but we are prepared,” Sophia said, forgetting her objections for the moment. “We will stay close together, and remain hooded, and if a servant sees us, you will Bound us away before he can raise an alarm or recognize us. And… well, that would probably mean the end of this plan, as they will be more alert if they believe someone tried to burgle the house, but we will simply have to find some other way.”
“That’s very sensible. All right, we are prepared, and everything will go well,” Daphne said. “We should be at Windermere Street in a few minutes.”
They fell silent, each thinking her private thoughts. Sophia watched the other carriages and wondered what they thought of the brightly painted landau, with its two passengers who had not bothered to raise the sides against the chill in the air. It was warm by comparison to Christmas Day, where frost had rimed every window in the Barhams’ house and Sophia had been more than usually grateful for the warmth of the fire. The Christmas service had been lovely, and they had had an excellent dinner, and Sophia was able to put her troubles aside for the space of twelve hours. She felt a little guilty now, guilty at having deceived Cecy, even if it was for her own good. She would be happier not knowing what Sophia was about at that moment.
She realized they had reached their destination just as they passed Lord Endicott’s town house and Clevis took them down the street and around a corner. “Thank you,” Daphne said as he helped them both down. “I will see you at home soon.” She grinned. “We might even beat you there!”
“That sounds like a challenge, Lady Daphne,” Clevis said with a grin that matched hers, and set the horse to trotting away. Daphne turned to look at Sophia and clasped her hands, which for once were gloved sensibly in white kid; if they were seen, she did not want to be identified by the red gloves.
“Walk slowly, and let us hope anyone who sees us believes you are a very short young man,” Sophia said. They linked arms and proceeded around the corner. Lord Endicott’s town house was located in the center of a row of red brick buildings with foundations of white stone blocks, accented with more white stone around the windows and at the corners of the row, like the gap teeth of some monster that intended to consume them all. Miniature versions of Greek temple façades complete with tiny pediments surmounted each door, sheltering them from the weather, though the more modern fanlights surmounting each dark oaken door seemed out of place next to them.
Lord Endicott’s town house was half again as wide as its neighbors, with two windows on each side of the door at ground level, and a row of five windows indicating the story above. Each window had its curtains drawn except those of the very top level, which were small and square compared to the larger rectangles of the lower floors, and light shone out from two of those smaller windows. There was no way to see inside those rooms, which were probably servants’ quarters and occupied, making them unsuitable in any case.
“Keep walking,” Daphne whispered, and she moved faster, drawing Sophia with her around the corner. “Did you see it?”
“See what?”
“One of those curtains wasn’t fully closed. There is a small—well, smallish—slit between them. I can go up to the window and look inside, but you will need to watch to make sure no one approaches us. Though if they do, I will simply Bound away. But I believe it will not take much time for me to memorize the essence of the room.”
“Daphne—”
“Do you have faith in my talent or not?”
Sophia sighed. “I do.”
“Then after I memorize the essence, we will walk away around the corner again, and then I will Bound us into the room. You simply have to watch for anyone who might be too interested in what we are doing. Strangers peering into someone’s house might draw attention, but I imagine anyone passing at night will not want to become involved in someone else’s problem.”
“I hope you are right.”
They strolled around the corner again. Sophia was now acutely aware of every carriage that passed, and grateful that there seemed to be no pedestrians other than themselves. She kept her gaze forward, thinking if she met the eyes of a driver or his passengers, they would instantly know what she intended, and leap to the ground to apprehend her and Daphne.
As they drew nearer Lord Endicott’s town house, Daphne’s gait slowed until it was barely more than a saunter. “All right,” she said, “you start watching the street, and I will—oh, no.”
“What?” Sophia said, alarmed and ready to flee.
“It is… rather taller than I am,” Daphne said in a remote voice that told Sophia she was thinking up another plan.
“What should we do? If I lift you… that will surely draw attention.”
“I can do it, but it will be more obvious. We will simply have to take the chance.”
“Daphne, if it is too dangerous, we should simply go home.”
“Not dangerous. I’m going to Skip to where I can stand on the sill. You can see how that would look very obvious.”
Sophia closed her eyes. Something had gone wrong already. “We are not giving up yet,” she said. “Wait for my signal. I will look far down the street and tell you when there will be a long gap between carriages. How long will it take you to memorize its essence?”
“Half a minute. Possibly less.”
“Then we will simply have to pray no one comes along for half a minute.”
Sophia walked away from the buildings, tugging at her gloves the way she always did when she was nervous. It was not nearly so soothing when the gloves were not her familiar, comfortable red silk ones. A landau with its hood fully raised passed her; the driver and passengers ignored her. She might look like a beggar, although a prosperous one, standing by the side of the road waiting for someone generous to stop and give her a coin or two.
Another landau, and a barouche, then a high-flyer phaeton raced past with its occupants cheering and shouting. That was dangerous, driving like that in the darkness, but then young men always seemed to believe they were immortal. Even Richard had taken unnecessary risks, and in the end they had got him killed. Small wonder she was uninterested in marrying again, if the pool of hypothetical applicants for her hand were all young and foolish.
Lord Chumleigh, for example, Lord Endicott’s gambling friend—he seemed to believe he was doing her a favor by bestowing his attentions on her. Mr. Hawley had that tittering laugh that always accompanied some frivolous statement; the Earl of Mulcester cared more for fashion than politics; Mr. Spencer always eyed her as if he were imagining what she looked like without her gown. They were all the sort of men one could imagine racing down Windermere Street at ten-thirty in the evening in a high-flyer phaeton, possibly while drinking. No intelligent woman would consider marrying anyone so foolish. Older, sensible men were by far more attractive— She flushed, remembering Mr. Rutledge’s arm around her shoulders, and regretfully dismissed those thoughts.
Two more carriages passed, these at a more sedate speed, and then the road was clear in both directions for as far as Sophia could see. “Now, Daphne!” she said. Her cousin Skipped from the pavement to the window casement and gripped hard with her hands so she wouldn’t fall, pressing her knees in their thick woolen trousers hard against the sides of the frame.
Sophia turned her attention back to the road, which was still empty. Her hands were
sweating inside the too-thick gloves, her heart was pounding, and every sound was a carriage turning onto Windermere Street from a side road, where she would not see it until it was too late. Nothing moved except a stray cat strolling along on the far side of the street, as unconcerned about their presence as any of the carriages had been.
Movement, to the left. A large carriage turned onto the street and lumbered toward her. Not a landau, but a post-chaise, bigger and heavier and almost certainly full of more people, including the driver and a postilion. Sophia dared not distract Daphne, could not move, could not do anything except watch doom come rumbling toward them. It neared the corner of the row of town houses, and Sophia finally said, “Daphne!”
“What?” Daphne said from close behind her, and pulled Sophia away down the street, away from the post-chaise and around the corner. “Let’s keep walking, shall we, in case they were paying attention and might want to know why we’re not still walking along this side-street,” she added.
“Did you—”
“Yes. I almost Bounded us in right then, but I thought they might see us go, and even though there must be many Bounders in this city, no sense drawing attention to ourselves, yes?”
Sophia’s heart was still pounding far too rapidly, and she breathed in and out, as if preparing for meditation, until it slowed. “Very sensible,” she said. “What room are we Bounding to?”
“I believe it’s a dining room,” Daphne said. “At least, it seemed to—oh, I will show you,” and she put her arms around Sophia’s waist and lifted her, and—
emptiness, like gauze, floating though there is no air
—and Sophia stumbled as Daphne set her down in darkness, the only light coming from narrow slits that defined a door some distance away. “Wait for your eyes to adjust,” Daphne whispered, but Sophia had already closed her eyes tight shut, and when she opened them, faint outlines were visible all around: a long table lined with chairs, some sort of centerpiece rising high above the table, and the suggestion of more furnishings farther away.
Wondering Sight (The Extraordinaries Book 2) Page 16