A Golden Fury

by Samantha Cohoe

  “She is Graf Ludwig’s daughter,” I said.

  He nodded. “The younger one. He has two. The older is different.”

  “Rahel is here,” I said. “I met her. She invited me to dinner.”

  “Of course she did,” said Will with a note of bitterness. “She would be quite interested in you.”

  I passed over that, intriguing though it was. I had started this. I had to finish.

  “But Ada is different,” I prompted.

  “Very,” he agreed. “As soft as her sister is hard. As naive as Rahel is cynical. Sheltered, young. About your age, I suppose, though she seems much younger.”

  I nodded. “They are keeping me in her room. I saw some of her things. This dress is hers.”

  “Of course, I should have guessed. Just her sort of thing.”

  Will fell silent a moment. I felt him thinking, arranging what he would say. I didn’t like that.

  “What happened, Will?” I asked in a low voice.

  He sighed again. “Nothing happened,” he said. “That’s why it is so hard to explain. Nothing happened, and yet everything resulted. Do you see?”

  “No.”

  “No, of course not. I suppose I should start at the beginning. I met the Graf here, in London,” he said. “His wife is a cousin of Queen Charlotte, so they keep a house here, attend the social season. He hired me, though my official contract didn’t begin until we went to Prussia. At the time I didn’t think much of that, though of course in hindsight I realize he waited so that I would be bound by the stricter Prussian laws.”

  This was off course again, though I had to suppress an urge to scold him for being so careless. The Germans were famously harsh to failed alchemists. Prussia was the only place in Europe that still hanged them. Will must have been truly desperate for work to take it there.

  “One night there was a ball, and Ada’s escort fell ill. They asked me to accompany her in his place.”

  My heartbeat slowed and struggled, like the blood pumping through it had suddenly thickened to mercury.

  “She is pretty,” I said.

  “Oh, yes, she is pretty,” agreed Will. “And charming as well, for about a half an hour. After that she has used up all her conversation, and starts over again. It’s not her fault, of course. Not all seventeen-year-old girls can have your mind, or your education. But I couldn’t help comparing. I had left you so recently.”

  “So you went to a ball with her,” I said. With every false start, every attempt to veer away from the destination of the story, my anxieties thickened.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “And I … well … I tried to be an agreeable partner.”

  I knew perfectly well what that meant. I could imagine his smile, the small jokes that assumed they understood each other. And if that was only a month after he left France, then he still would have looked like himself. Tall, slim but well built, beautiful blue eyes that crinkled when he laughed, finely molded features that glowed with health.

  “And she fell in love with you,” I said. It was the obvious conclusion.

  “I didn’t know until we were all settled in Germany,” said Will. “I got to work, I didn’t see her very much at first. But then she started coming by the outbuilding where I worked. She came in and asked questions—stupid questions, but of course they would be. She knew nothing of alchemy, despite the fact that her father had employed one alchemist or another almost all her life.”

  He coughed again, and this time didn’t stop quickly. He pulled his arm from my shoulders and fumbled for his handkerchief. I winced at the violence, the horrible wet tearing sound of the cough. When he was finished, there was too much blood on the handkerchief to hide. He bent over, breathing hard. I wanted to tell him it was all right, that he didn’t have to go on. That I trusted him.

  But I didn’t. Not completely. Not anymore.

  “I didn’t know how to make her leave,” he said quietly. “I should have found some way. I should have known it would be trouble. But she was my patron’s daughter. I didn’t want to offend her. I tried to be polite.”

  Unbidden, an image of Will flashing a dazzling smile at a pretty dark-haired girl came to my mind. I imagined him explaining patiently as she bent over a crucible in a low-necked gown like the one I wore now.

  “In the end she … she threw herself at me. I turned her down as gently as I could, but … she didn’t take it well.”

  There was a darkness behind his words. My heart sped up again.

  “What did she do?”

  “She became hysterical,” said Will. “She started threatening me, breaking things. In the end I had to send her out in no uncertain terms. I was harsh with her. I pushed her. I … I insulted her.”

  Will bowed his head and chewed his lip.

  “So.” I couldn’t stop myself. “So she went to Graf Ludwig. She told him—what?”

  Will shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “She tried to kill herself.”

  I gasped. My skittering heart stopped. My hand flew to my throat, imagining a noose. “How?” I breathed.

  “She filled a bath and cut her wrists,” Will continued. “When they found her, she was nearly dead. I don’t know if she told her father it was for my sake, or if he drew his own conclusions. But after that—”

  “My God,” I whispered. “But why? Why would she do something so desperate, simply because you rejected her?”

  “I don’t know!” he said. “I never imagined she would, or I would have been more careful! I wouldn’t have said some of the things I said. I was harsh, Bee. I don’t like to think about the things I said to her, now, knowing how hard she took them. I have to conclude that she isn’t quite right, isn’t healthy in her mind, but I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “But she lived?”

  “She did,” he said. “I think. She was alive when I fled.”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  I pulled away from him to stare at his face. He shook his head. He looked as miserable and guilty as I could have hoped. I thought of Rahel’s bubbling rage, and Valentin’s under his steely self-control. It made sense. Will’s story fit with what I knew. But it was not the only explanation that did.

  A hole seemed to open in my chest. I could either fall into it, or I could stay back. Keep doubting Will, or trust what he told me. This was dangerous ground. If I refused to believe Will, then what? How could I do what I needed to do? My doubt could kill him, quite literally. I put it aside. I stepped back from the chasm.

  “She must have died,” I said. “If she had lived, surely she would have told her father the truth.”

  Will’s forehead crinkled quizzically. “The truth?”

  “The truth about you,” I said. “That you didn’t seduce her.”

  His face cleared. His shoulders sagged with relief that I had decided to believe him.

  “I don’t know that she would have,” he said. “I think she may well have lied about me. She wanted to punish me. That much I know.”

  I nodded slowly. It made sense. It explained everything. And it fit with what I knew about Will, good and bad. He would have charmed her. Whatever he said, I was certain of that. He would have enjoyed her attention at first, until she began to get in the way of his work. Until she started to make him nervous and threatened his place as the Graf’s alchemist. He was like me. Quick to turn, like mercury. Ada would have been shocked. She would have been hurt. Then furious.

  “You shouldn’t have gone to Germany,” I concluded. “That was stupid, Will.”

  “It was stupid,” he agreed. “But it wasn’t so easy to find a patron once your mother turned me out and started spreading stories. I considered myself lucky that Graf Ludwig hadn’t heard them yet.”

  “Perhaps if he had, he would have kept a closer eye on his daughter.”

  Will looked at me. He was still waiting. Waiting for a sign of my forgiveness, my acceptance. I didn’t want to meet his eyes, but the chasm still beckoned. I couldn’t stand on the edge any
longer, and I wouldn’t jump.

  I took his hand in mine. I traced the long, calloused fingers and the scars from fire and metal. I had the same scars. No one who didn’t have them could understand us, how hard and long and dangerously we worked, with only a slender hope of success. How much trust we had to give to something so uncertain that it would look like madness to anyone not like us.

  “We have to be good to each other,” I said.

  “Yes,” agreed Will. “If we aren’t, no one else will be.”

  He understood. Tears pricked at my eyes.

  “When this is over, we’ll go wherever you want,” said Will. “We can give up alchemy if you like. There are other things you could do. With your mind, your abilities. I’ll make all of this up to you, Bee, I swear I will.”

  “Where would we go?”

  “What about the New World? New Spain, perhaps? Florida? You speak lovely Spanish, and mine is passable. You could improve it on the voyage.”

  “The New World,” I repeated. The words conjured up a jumble of fevered images. Steaming jungles mixed confusedly with the names of the battles of the American Revolution, the plantations of the English settlers and the fabled gold of the Aztecs.

  “France isn’t the only place for revolution,” said Will. “And alchemy isn’t the only way to pursue it.”

  His eyes had begun to kindle again, and I was brought back to our long talks about the philosophers over coffee or champagne. My mother was so impatient with us. She wanted alchemy for its own sake, but Will had always seen more possibilities. After all, wealth was an invention men used to deprive one another, and gold was just the glitter of legitimacy they gave to their theft. The fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth itself to nobody, Will had quoted. Make gold as abundant as lead, and it would be just as valueless. Revolution.

  He began to cough again, pulling me back to the present. None of that was to be if he wasn’t. I put my arms around him and laid my head against his heaving chest. His heart, stuttering alarmingly fast, was the only one on earth that truly knew mine. I would not let it stop beating.

  Not much later, Valentin knocked. I rose, resolute. Reluctant as I was to leave Will, I had what I came for.

  “If he is dead before I can cure him, the deal is off,” I snapped at Valentin. “Put him somewhere warmer. You know how sick he is.”

  “And would you also like me to wipe his brow and spoon him hot soup?” Valentin asked.

  “Yes, indeed. That is a fine idea.”

  Valentin glowered and again forced his mouth shut. I knew the tale he wanted to tell me now, the one he thought would make me turn on Will if I knew, something Valentin both wanted and could not want. We descended the stairs, first the cramped, hidden ones, then the broad, elegantly banistered set.

  “Did she live?” I asked, when we stood in front of Ada’s bedroom.

  Valentin started, then stared at me in open shock.

  “Yes, he told me,” I said. “But he didn’t know if Ada survived her attempt on her own life.”

  Valentin’s brow furrowed in deep consternation. “You know,” he said. “And you still defend him?”

  I could have told him that his precious Ada was a flirt and a liar, but I did not. Let him think I believed Will a reprobate, and still loved him. Nothing else would still his desire to denounce Will to me.

  “Does she live?” I repeated. I sounded calm, though my heart had sped up in fear of the answer.

  “She lives,” said Valentin.

  “And you love her,” I said. Feeling flickered on his face, and I connected it to something Rahel had said at dinner about his reward. “You love her, and Burggraf Ludwig has promised her to you, hasn’t he, if you bring him the Stone. I suppose he thinks you are an acceptable choice now that her reputation is beyond repair.”

  Valentin opened the door to Ada’s room and pushed me into it. He started to swing the door shut, then paused, pinning me with a narrow, furious gaze.

  “I will have other clothes sent to you,” he said. “Do not wear hers again.”

  13

  I dreamed someone slept in the bed with me, and woke gasping for air.

  It took longer than it should have to convince myself it was only a dream.

  I rose to dress, taking deep breaths to steady myself. By the door, a clean, simple gown and shawl lay folded on the floor. Valentin had been as good as his word. I was glad enough to leave Ada’s frilly dresses in her closet. I felt as much revulsion at the idea of wearing the girl’s clothes as Valentin felt at seeing them on me. All the gilded, fanciful touches in her room made me feel inexplicably furious, and faintly ill. I turned away from them and went to the window. There was a trellis under it, covered in vines. It would be easy to climb down, if I wanted. If that were any way to escape.

  It was very early, and the sun hadn’t yet risen above the grand houses on the eastern side of the street. I brushed my hair, staring out at the garden and gate, and tried not to think how often Ada must have done the same. She had left a presence here that I could feel. I had slept in her bed and hadn’t quite felt alone. I didn’t feel quite alone now. I glanced over my shoulder on a nervous instinct.

  And someone was there.

  I spun around, my whole body trembling. There was a figure in the corner, in shadow.

  “Who are you?” I demanded. “How long have you been there?”

  The figure rose slowly. It wasn’t so very dark in the room, but I could make out no features. Was it a man or a woman? I couldn’t tell. Cold horror pricked up my arms.

  “How did you get in here?” I demanded again, backing away from it. I clutched the window behind me.

  The figure didn’t answer, though somehow I knew it heard me. It took a step forward, into the light, without becoming any more illuminated. I held a hairbrush in my hand. I threw it as hard as I could.

  The brush hit the wall across the room with a ringing sound of brass on papered wood. It dropped to the ground. It had hit nothing, because there was nothing there.

  I turned away and leaned my forehead against the windowsill, bracing myself. I was not sure what would be worse to see when I turned back again: that the figure was still there, or that it was not. I took a deep breath and looked.

  It was not.

  I nodded. Nothing was there. Nothing was watching me. That was good. It was only the madness, beginning to finger its way into my mind.

  That was not good.

  Things are not always so simple, Thea. You think that because you do not see a thing this moment, it is not there?

  I turned back to the window again, ignoring my mother, staring determinedly at things I knew were truly there. The trellis. The oak tree. The gate. Someone outside of the gate.

  I squinted harder at the gate in the uncertain light, seeing movement. The guard was pointing away, talking and gesturing in an aggressive manner to a figure on the other side. The figure was tall and slim, dark-haired and familiar. He seemed real; I could make out particulars, and that was reassuring. He did not leave, despite the guard’s threats. The black-haired man folded his arms across his chest and turned, looking up at the house.

  My heart lurched. I jerked back from the window, into the shadows.

  It was my father.

  Questions pelted my mind like grapeshot. Was it really him? Had he seen me? He couldn’t have, could he? But how did he know I was here? How could he have found us? Were the police with him? Would the Germans let him in?

  On the latter question, at least, my mind was soon put to rest. When verbal threats failed to remove him, the guard took his musket from his shoulder and pointed it at my father’s heart. Vellacott put up his hands and backed away. He left, with a searching backward glance at the windows.

  I dressed as quickly as I could and rattled the door to my room. For the first time, the lock infuriated me. I was trapped in this haunted room. This room that mocked me with every silly feminine flourish, that still smelled like her perfume. No wonder I w
as seeing things that weren’t there. Of course my mind was twisting, locked up in here with ghosts while my father hunted me. A yellow mist of panic clouded my vision. I had to get out, I had to. I swore at the lock and began to pound on the door, shouting profanities in every language I knew.

  It worked. Heavy steps pounded down the hall.

  “Quiet!” hissed Valentin from behind the door. “You will wake the ladies with that filth!”

  “Let me out of this donnerwetter dollhouse!” I shouted back. “If you leave me in here another moment I will break everything in here that she ever touched, n’est-ce pas? Je merderai on all her pretty little things, I’ll—”

  Valentin threw the door open, a thunderous look on his face. He seized my shoulders and shook me until my teeth rattled.

  “Quiet, you wild creature! What is the matter with you? Have you gone mad?”

  Abruptly, he stopped shaking me. He pressed the back of his free hand to my forehead. My eyes widened, locked on his. His question repeated itself in my mind.

  Have you gone mad? Have you gone mad? Have you gone mad?

  The yellow mist began to clear. The door was open now. The wild desperation began to recede. Valentin was solid in front of me, his strong hand on my arm thick and real: no figment. He lowered his hand slowly, and his grip on my shoulders loosened. I didn’t want him to let go; his touch was an anchor. I sucked down a deep, steadying breath.

  “Is there a fever?” I asked.

  Valentin tilted his head. “Yes.”

  “It’s—” I tried to think of an explanation for my fit. It had seemed quite natural at the time, not mad or even out of proportion. But now I could not sort out the jumble of thoughts from the wild rage that had taken me. I would not tell him about the figure in the corner; I was not ready to see his alarm at that revelation. I seized on the last certain thought I had. “There was a man at the gate.” My father. That had been real, surely? “I think. He wanted something. The guard sent him away. I have to know what he said. I have to know what he wanted.”