Illusions of Fate
Page 31
Before I can finish blushing, he’s held out his arm to Sir Bird. “Come along.”
Sir Bird caws ill-temperedly. “Go on.” I hand him an extra biscuit. “I promise to visit.”
Finn’s face lights up. “Suddenly, I am intensely fond of this bird. We shall be great friends, you and I.” Sir Bird squawks and then, in his place, there’s the great black book. Finn tucks it under his arm. “This suits me, as well. Until tomorrow.” He’s through the door before I can tell him that we certainly won’t be seeing each other that soon.
Fie on the tired melancholy that descends on the room as soon as Finn is gone from it.
Bright—relatively so, by Alben standards—and early the next morning, I leave Eleanor’s, refreshed after a solid night’s sleep. Ernest escorts me, despite my protestations, and I know he suspects more than Eleanor told him about my surprise “reappearance” at their home. I’m wearing another borrowed dress of hers, jeweled green and finer than anything I own, but one she insisted she never wears.
I changed in the dark, and can’t help but look over my shoulder at my shadow constantly. Though Finn claimed watching and listening through his shadow is difficult, I feel as though he is hovering at my side. It is not a comfortable sensation.
We weave through the push of a crowd that seems to part easier for me in this dress and on Ernest’s arm than they normally do. “My sister likes you,” Ernest says as we walk the many blocks back to the hotel. He offered the carriage, but I thought if I were walking, he’d let me go alone.
“I like her, too. She’s rather remarkable, isn’t she?”
Ernest smiles. “She would have us all dismiss her as a flirt and a gossip, but I suspect she is a more formidable force than even our uncle. I think she will be a great advantage to me in politics.”
Perhaps Ernest is not so gullible and trusting as his open, honest face would indicate.
“What of your parents?” I ask. “You both seem young to be on your own.”
“Mother died when we were children. Father passed last year.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Ernest smiles, but it’s distant. An Alben smile is rarely an expression of joy. More often it is a way to deflect true emotion. “We are quite well taken care of. I come into my full inheritance next year, at which point I’ll purchase a seat in the Higher House, following in our uncle’s footsteps.”
“And Eleanor?”
“She has a suitable dowry upon her eighteenth birthday. I think we’ll find her a good match.”
“Doubtless.” Actually, I doubt very much that any man her brother or uncle deems worthy will, in fact, deserve her. And the way Ernest says “we’ll find her a good match” crawls under my skin and leaves my soul feeling itchy on Eleanor’s behalf. Shouldn’t she be able to choose someone that makes her heart sing?
It would appear Eleanor’s birth does not free her from the same binding restrictions and marital expectations my own did.
“Perhaps, with all her connections, Eleanor ought to go into politics, too.”
Ernest actually laughs at this, throwing his head back, his throat bobbing. “I would fear very much for Albion if she did.” He pauses outside the Grande Sylvie, straightening his tie. “I wanted to say . . . that is, I hope you understand that . . . well, Eleanor may like things to be interesting, but a future in politics is not well-served by scandal, real or imagined. I would very much hate to see any talk involving my sister.”
His words are carefully weighted, and I can feel them tugging on my shoulders, willing me to shrink back. I don’t know whether he is asking me to stop being her friend because I, myself, am unacceptable, or because he suspects my connection to Lord Downpike’s threats. I hope it’s the latter.
I stand taller, pasting a smile any Alben would be proud of onto my face. “She is lucky to have you as a brother.”
He relaxes his shoulders in relief. “It was nice to see you again, Jessamin. I almost wish, if things were different—well, but they aren’t.” His look is wistful as he pats my hand on his arm. I draw it back and wave good-bye.
I slip in through the servants’ door, anticipating a reunion with Ma’ati and Jacky Boy. But first, to change into normal clothes.
I sneak into my room and am undoing the buttons on my blouse when I hear soft snores behind me. Screaming, I turn to find a strange girl in my cot.
“What are you doing in here?” I demand, hurrying to the narrow wardrobe and flinging it open. I recognize nothing in it. “And what have you done with my things?”
The girl sits up, hair a messy black halo around her head, clutching the blanket to her chest. “I’m sorry, milady, I only started last night, and I was told I needn’t wake until eight, please don’t fire me.”
“Jessamin?”
I whirl around to find Ma’ati standing in the doorway. “You replaced me already? I’ve only been gone two nights!”
“I don’t understand.” She takes my hand and pulls me out of my room. “The letter said you wouldn’t be returning to work.”
“What letter?”
“Here, I’ll show you.”
I follow her to her room where she pulls out a cream envelope with Finn’s double-tree seal. The seal is the only thing that keeps me from suspecting Lord Downpike meddling again. Violence brimming in my thoughts, I rip out the letter and scan the contents.
Sir Bird caws ill-temperedly. “Go on.” I hand him an extra biscuit. “I promise to visit.”
Finn’s face lights up. “Suddenly, I am intensely fond of this bird. We shall be great friends, you and I.” Sir Bird squawks and then, in his place, there’s the great black book. Finn tucks it under his arm. “This suits me, as well. Until tomorrow.” He’s through the door before I can tell him that we certainly won’t be seeing each other that soon.
Fie on the tired melancholy that descends on the room as soon as Finn is gone from it.
Bright—relatively so, by Alben standards—and early the next morning, I leave Eleanor’s, refreshed after a solid night’s sleep. Ernest escorts me, despite my protestations, and I know he suspects more than Eleanor told him about my surprise “reappearance” at their home. I’m wearing another borrowed dress of hers, jeweled green and finer than anything I own, but one she insisted she never wears.
I changed in the dark, and can’t help but look over my shoulder at my shadow constantly. Though Finn claimed watching and listening through his shadow is difficult, I feel as though he is hovering at my side. It is not a comfortable sensation.
We weave through the push of a crowd that seems to part easier for me in this dress and on Ernest’s arm than they normally do. “My sister likes you,” Ernest says as we walk the many blocks back to the hotel. He offered the carriage, but I thought if I were walking, he’d let me go alone.
“I like her, too. She’s rather remarkable, isn’t she?”
Ernest smiles. “She would have us all dismiss her as a flirt and a gossip, but I suspect she is a more formidable force than even our uncle. I think she will be a great advantage to me in politics.”
Perhaps Ernest is not so gullible and trusting as his open, honest face would indicate.
“What of your parents?” I ask. “You both seem young to be on your own.”
“Mother died when we were children. Father passed last year.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Ernest smiles, but it’s distant. An Alben smile is rarely an expression of joy. More often it is a way to deflect true emotion. “We are quite well taken care of. I come into my full inheritance next year, at which point I’ll purchase a seat in the Higher House, following in our uncle’s footsteps.”
“And Eleanor?”
“She has a suitable dowry upon her eighteenth birthday. I think we’ll find her a good match.”
“Doubtless.” Actually, I doubt very much that any man her brother or uncle deems worthy will, in fact, deserve her. And the way Ernest says “we’ll find her a good match” crawls under my skin and leaves my soul feeling itchy on Eleanor’s behalf. Shouldn’t she be able to choose someone that makes her heart sing?
It would appear Eleanor’s birth does not free her from the same binding restrictions and marital expectations my own did.
“Perhaps, with all her connections, Eleanor ought to go into politics, too.”
Ernest actually laughs at this, throwing his head back, his throat bobbing. “I would fear very much for Albion if she did.” He pauses outside the Grande Sylvie, straightening his tie. “I wanted to say . . . that is, I hope you understand that . . . well, Eleanor may like things to be interesting, but a future in politics is not well-served by scandal, real or imagined. I would very much hate to see any talk involving my sister.”
His words are carefully weighted, and I can feel them tugging on my shoulders, willing me to shrink back. I don’t know whether he is asking me to stop being her friend because I, myself, am unacceptable, or because he suspects my connection to Lord Downpike’s threats. I hope it’s the latter.
I stand taller, pasting a smile any Alben would be proud of onto my face. “She is lucky to have you as a brother.”
He relaxes his shoulders in relief. “It was nice to see you again, Jessamin. I almost wish, if things were different—well, but they aren’t.” His look is wistful as he pats my hand on his arm. I draw it back and wave good-bye.
I slip in through the servants’ door, anticipating a reunion with Ma’ati and Jacky Boy. But first, to change into normal clothes.
I sneak into my room and am undoing the buttons on my blouse when I hear soft snores behind me. Screaming, I turn to find a strange girl in my cot.
“What are you doing in here?” I demand, hurrying to the narrow wardrobe and flinging it open. I recognize nothing in it. “And what have you done with my things?”
The girl sits up, hair a messy black halo around her head, clutching the blanket to her chest. “I’m sorry, milady, I only started last night, and I was told I needn’t wake until eight, please don’t fire me.”
“Jessamin?”
I whirl around to find Ma’ati standing in the doorway. “You replaced me already? I’ve only been gone two nights!”
“I don’t understand.” She takes my hand and pulls me out of my room. “The letter said you wouldn’t be returning to work.”
“What letter?”
“Here, I’ll show you.”
I follow her to her room where she pulls out a cream envelope with Finn’s double-tree seal. The seal is the only thing that keeps me from suspecting Lord Downpike meddling again. Violence brimming in my thoughts, I rip out the letter and scan the contents.
