“The next room is lit,” Daphne said, unnecessarily, “so we will have to move carefully.”
“There are two windows in this room,” Sophia said, looking around more carefully and seeing the faintest vertical line that must be where the curtains were slightly open, “so the next room is likely the entry, and the lights are burning so Lord Endicott need not stumble about waiting for his footmen to light the room. We need to reach his bedroom; that is where we are most likely to find success.”
“Follow me,” Daphne said, and went silently to the door. She pushed it open a little, looked out, then turned to Sophia and nodded. Sophia took a deep breath, tugged at her gloves, and followed Daphne out the door.
In which Sophia adds eavesdropping to her list of crimes
hey crept out of the dining room and into a warm and inviting space Sophia could not believe had anything to do with hard, cruel Lord Endicott. If it were true that houses reflected the character of their owners, it ought to be angular and cold, lit by iron lanterns and filled with portraits of handsome, nastily-smiling men and women. Instead, a dozen lamps shed a golden light on the warmly polished wooden floor and the staircase that curved along one wall until it reached a landing, where it turned sharply and continued up. Daphne was already halfway to the stairs; Sophia came out of her reverie and followed her.
There were portraits on the walls of the stairwell, but they were of ordinary-looking people, some of them with a Shaper’s beauty, but most no doubt possessing talents that did not show themselves on the skin. Their gilt frames reflected the lamplight that continued up the stairs, lighting them far too well for Sophia’s comfort. Carpeting made their steps nearly silent, though the swish of her skirts sounded too loud and too distinctive to be anything but a woman creeping about where she should not be.
Daphne stopped, and Sophia nearly ran into her; she turned to Sophia with her finger pressed to her lips, and Sophia realized someone was passing down the hall they were about to enter. Daphne’s hearing must be incredibly acute, Sophia reflected, but then they were moving on and she had no time to think about anything but moving quietly.
At the first floor landing, a doorway opened on a dark room that bore the suggestion of sofas and low tables, and Sophia concluded it was a drawing room. Another door, this one closed, stood next to it, and a short hallway extended the width of the house to another set of stairs, this one uncarpeted, at the far end, ascending to the top of the house. The hall was lined with doors, four of them, and Daphne turned to Sophia again, this time with her eyes asking the question where next? Sophia stepped past her and looked down the hall. Two of the doors had light shining from beneath them. She put her lips to Daphne’s ear and said, “Did the person you heard go up the other stairs?”
Daphne considered for a moment, then shook her head. That meant one of those two lit rooms, at least, was occupied. They had no way of knowing which was Lord Endicott’s bedchamber… although…
Sophia took in the scene as a whole. There were two doors on either side of the hall. On the side facing Windermere Street, the doors were equally spaced; on the side facing the rear, they were off-center, with much more wall space between the far door and the end of the hallway. Enough space for a bedchamber and a dressing room? She had no doubt a man like Lord Endicott, for whom appearance was paramount, would require plenty of room for his wardrobe. He would likely not want his chambers looking out over Windermere Street, with all its traffic. And the door was unlit. She slipped past Daphne and beckoned her to follow, went to the far left door and opened it.
It was a bedchamber ornate enough that the Prince Regent himself would not complain about sleeping in it. A brocade canopy, its color indistinct in the dimness, draped the upper half of the bed, which was neatly made up with a heavy counterpane, and the walnut footboard looked as if it had been set to guard the sleep of whoever lay down on it.
Sophia flinched as Daphne lit the lantern, shielding it with her body so it would not shed any light beneath the door. Its light revealed the canopy to be dark gold, worked with brighter gold threads that sparkled as if they were actual metal. The rich green travertine of the fireplace was flanked by columns that were the smaller twins of the ones warding the portal of the house’s doorway, and the fire was banked but not extinguished.
Sophia put out a hand to balance herself on a round table, also walnut, that stood at the foot of the bed. Between the two windows lay a dressing table with an oval mirror that was cluttered with knickknacks, most of which seemed out of character for Lord Endicott: thimbles and pincushions, tiny snuffboxes with enameled lids (Lord Endicott did not, to her knowledge, use the stuff), tangled bits of ribbon.
“Look in here,” Daphne said, holding open a narrow door. By the light of Daphne’s lantern, Sophia saw Lord Endicott’s dressing room was extremely untidy. What his valet was thinking, Sophia couldn’t begin to imagine, but the man was definitely failing in his responsibilities if he allowed his master’s possessions to remain so disordered.
Sophia went inside and pulled off her right glove, running her hand over Lord Endicott’s clothes and cravats and shoes. She did not expect to find any resonance with such everyday things, but it was surprising what people became attached to. Little drawers in an ebony chest with curved legs turned out to hold nothing more exciting than handkerchiefs and a loose collection of buttons, none of which held any significance to Lord Endicott.
She returned to the room to find Daphne picking through the detritus on the dressing table. “What about this?” she whispered, and held up a man’s ring. Sophia took it and was immediately struck by dozens of whirling images, and had to set it down quickly.
“It would work,” she whispered, “but I believe he would notice its absence.”
Daphne nodded and continued her search. Sophia joined her. She thought for a moment that they should not disturb anything, but realized in the next moment it was unlikely, with how untidy it was, that Lord Endicott or his valet would notice anything was out of order, and if they did, they would probably blame it on one another.
Object after object yielded nothing, and soon Sophia was handling things automatically, not paying much attention to what she touched. It had been a nice idea, but impractical, though perhaps… could she get away with taking the ring? No, Lord Endicott would blame a servant. She could not bring herself to allow some innocent person to be punished for her actions, however important the ring might be to her cause.
Her hand landed on something hard and cold, and once again Visions sprang up around her, whizzing past so quickly she could barely see the real world. She let it go, waited for the afterimages to subside, then picked it up with her gloved hand. It was a watch fob, a simple bell-shaped fob with a ring at one end to attach it to a watch chain, engraved with a flower of some sort, a lily or a rose. “Wait,” she told Daphne, and passed the fob from her left hand to her right, steadying herself against the rush of images. It was such a common item that about half the images turned out to be echoes, but even then it was difficult to begin sorting through the rest, there were so many of them. Unlike the Duchess’s ring, only one man had ever held this object; Lord Endicott had no doubt had it commissioned specifically for himself. This was the key to tracking her prey.
“Sophia,” Daphne said, going to the door. “I believe someone is coming.”
Sophia took the fob with her left hand and turned to say something to Daphne, and saw the doorknob begin to turn. Daphne looked at her in horror. She was too far away. Without another thought Sophia flung herself to the floor and wiggled beneath the bed, and heard the pop of Daphne Bounding away. This is the stupidest place I could hide, she thought, and then the door opened, the lights came on, and someone rushed into the room and flung open the door to the dressing room.
The man was muttering to himself, low words Sophia could not make out, and then there were thuds, perhaps of shoes landing on hard surfaces, and the deep rustling sound of fabric rubbing across fabric. The bedroom door op
ened again, and the noises cut off. Then Lord Endicott said, “You will pack your things and leave in the morning, Thomas. And you need not expect a reference.”
“My lord, I apologize, I didn’t realize you’d be home early,” Thomas said. His voice was muffled, as if he were still inside the drawing room. “I was—there were other—your boots—”
“I have been gone for two hours,” Lord Endicott said. “I believe it is not unreasonable for me to expect you could black my boots and bring order to my dressing room in that time.”
“You know you like them to be perfect,” Thomas said. “I was out of the things I use—the secret concoction others would like the receipt for—it took time—”
“Stop whining, Thomas.” Lord Endicott sounded bored rather than angry. “Very well. But this is your last chance.”
“Thank you, my lord, I promise I won’t disappoint you, my lord.”
“Take my coat, and no more protestations of fidelity tonight. I’m not in the mood.”
“You are home early, if you don’t mind my saying, my lord.”
“The company was bland and I won too readily. I prefer a challenge. And there’s still time for me to attend Almack’s, if it’s not too much trouble for you.”
“No, my lord! I beg your pardon, I have your breeches ready right here, and that new coat—”
“And my shoes? At least you’ve buffed them up nicely. I would hate to have to wait for you to take basic care of my wardrobe.”
“Yes, my lord, thank you, my lord.”
“Pity they don’t serve better refreshments there, but one can always return home for a drink before bed, yes?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Silence, broken only by the sound of cloth sliding over limbs. “I hope the women aren’t all such frights as the last time I was there,” Lord Endicott said. “Miss Ravencroft, possibly, or young Lady Daphne St. Clair. A pity she’s fat; she’d be quite pretty if she would reduce.”
“I thought my lord fancied Mrs. Westlake, if it’s not too bold of me to say.”
Lord Endicott chuckled, and Sophia shuddered at the sound. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Mrs. Westlake. I do enjoy her company. How unfortunate for me the feeling isn’t mutual.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, you wouldn’t, would you? Sufficient to say she wishes me at the devil, when I have never done anything but give her the most devoted attention.”
“But the rumor is—I beg your pardon, my lord, but it’s common knowledge you intend to marry her.”
The chuckle turned into a full-bodied laugh. “Oh, that would be something indeed! My home life would be the envy of all London. No, she’d never have me even if I did ask her to marry me, to my great sorrow.”
“I see, my lord.” Thomas did not sound as if he did see what Lord Endicott was talking about. Sophia understood very well, and wished she had the power to rise up from this narrow, dusty space and shoot Lord Endicott dead where he stood. So that was how Lord Endicott’s attentions to her were viewed by society! When they had spoken only a handful of times—what had he said about her when she was not present?
All those whispered comments and sidelong looks she always received… of course no one she knew would be so crass as to speak of an undeclared engagement to her directly, so she could not have guessed some of them were speculations about her attachment to Lord Endicott! Sophia had no doubt he himself had spread that rumor to further torture her, expose her to the prying attentions of every gossip in London, link her name to his in a way she could not repudiate except by showing herself to be shrewish and possibly faithless as well, since she would never respond to him with any sign of affection.
“Oh, my lord, I almost forgot,” Thomas said, “but Mr. Baines was here today, while you were out.”
There was silence for several breaths. “Baines came here?” Lord Endicott said. “What did he want? No, I already know he would not have said anything to you or anyone else in this house. When was this?”
“Nearly two o’clock, my lord. He said, exactly, ‘two days, the warehouse.’ “
Lord Endicott swore, a blistering word that made Sophia blush even though she had heard it many times from soldiers in the field. “He’ll have to be taught a lesson,” he said. “I forbade him to come here. Anyone might see him. Did he speak to anyone but you?”
“No, my lord.”
“Fortunate for him.” Sophia heard the sound of more fabric moving across fabric. “I expect these rooms to be spotless when I return tonight,” he said, “or you’ll face worse than dismissal.”
“Yes, my lord, I know, my lord.”
“Good.” Feet encased in very fine shoes passed across Sophia’s narrow field of vision. She heard nothing for a moment, then Thomas let loose a torrent of profanity even more blistering than Lord Endicott’s. “Damn him and his damned wardrobe,” he said finally, and Sophia heard him moving around, saw his feet in much less fine shoes cross and re-cross the bedroom.
She drew in too deep a breath, her nose tickled, and she pinched it tight to avoid sneezing. Where was Daphne? She must know Sophia had not been caught, or there would be a great uproar, but other than that Sophia could not guess what Daphne was thinking. Sophia’s back and neck ached from the awkward way in which she was pressed into the floor by the sag of the mattress above, and her eyes were watering from the dust. She prayed Thomas would continue to be slovenly and not choose to impress his master by sweeping under the bed.
The sounds of cleaning continued until Sophia thought she might go mad with frustration and impatience. Surely even the vain Lord Endicott could not have that many clothes? But eventually she heard the ticking and clinking of small things being moved, the louder ting of porcelain ringing on porcelain, and finally, finally Thomas turned out the light and shut the door behind him.
Sophia counted to one thousand before emerging from her hiding place. She had been luckier than she deserved, which meant, she hoped, that God looked with favor on her little crime. Even so, getting out of this house was now urgent. She brushed at the front of her dress, which was now grey and fluffy with dust, to no effect, pulled on her right glove, and wrapped her cloak close around her before going to the door and opening it a crack.
The hall was empty and dark. Golden light rose from the entryway via the stairwell, and a paler glow came from the stairs near her that led to the servants’ floor, but the two doors that had previously had light spilling from beneath them were as dark as the others. Sophia crept along the hall to the stairs and made her slow, patient way down their elegant curve. She heard nothing, saw no one. The silence was so perfect that when she reached the ground floor and began crossing the polished wood of the entryway, the noise her shoes made seemed as loud as if she were some giant out of myth, trying and failing to draw no attention to herself.
By the time she reached the dining room door, she was breathing as heavily as if she’d been running, and she almost flung herself inside, then leaned against the door, trying to stay calm. “Oh, I am so glad!” Daphne whispered, and Sophia had to choke back a shriek as the girl detached herself from a shadow on the far side of the room. “You were gone so long, but I couldn’t think what else to do but wait, and I was so—I thought, either you would return here, or I would hear the entire house up in arms because you had been caught! Was it Lord Endicott?”
“Yes,” Sophia said, “and I will tell you the entire story tomorrow, but I believe I should return home as quickly as possible, because it is getting late and I have no idea whether Cecy will believe she should return early to tend to me.”
She did not feel entirely safe until, having Bounded to Daphne’s home and then been conveyed back to the Barhams’ by the taciturn Clevis, she was in her own bedchamber, undressing with Beeton’s assistance, having reassured herself Cecy was still not home. Beeton eyed her filthy gown with suspicion, but Sophia gave her a cool stare that dared her to make an issue of it, and Beeton just shook her head in resignation and took t
he gown away for cleaning.
Sophia settled into her bed, having traded her kid gloves for the red silk ones, and turned the watch fob so light gathered along the curve of its side and turned it bright silver. She would not attempt Visions tonight; her nerves were too frayed for her to focus properly. But tomorrow… tomorrow she would attempt a new approach toward proving Lord Endicott’s crimes.
He had sounded so smug, so sure of himself, that her desire to see him fall had intensified one hundredfold. Except that he had not sounded so smug when Thomas had mentioned that man, Baines. A man whom Lord Endicott had forbidden to come to his house. It did not seem too much of a stretch to guess Baines had something to do with the counterfeiting operation. A warehouse, two nights from now…
Sophia again turned the watch fob in her hands, then put it away in a drawer and removed her gloves. If she could locate the Vision that let her see through Lord Endicott’s eyes before then, she would be able to watch whatever happened at that warehouse, and that might give her more information on which to base her Dreams. But first, she had to track and eliminate her new prey. She would need to find that enemy Seer.
In which Sophia finally asks for help
ophia sat on the uncomfortable chair in the drawing room, half-listening to Cecy tell her about something one of her many friends had said. She had no chair in her bedchamber, and would have endured even this lumpy one with its rough upholstery if only she could transport it to her room without anyone realizing. But there were no chairs in the entire house whose absence Cecy would not notice, and she would want to know why Sophia wanted one in her room, and Sophia could not tell her she wanted it for Visions without having to lie about which Visions she was trying to See.
Wondering Sight (The Extraordinaries Book 2) Page 17