Dance with the Fae

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

F or a moment, Kit said nothing, far too astonished to form the thoughts, let alone the words, that would articulate his sense of confusion. He walked around Miss Dove and kicked the door shut, keeping his eyes on her face at all times as he walked back to her. Of all the things she claimed, one stood out to him more than the others.

‘Adelaide hasn’t gone anywhere,’ he said slowly.

‘Her body, no. Her … being… Yes. She travels with him now. I was there when they left.’

Miss Dove sounded perfectly rational for someone who had just admitted to being a fairy. Convincingly so.

‘You’re a fairy and?—’

‘A fae,’ she interrupted. ‘I just told you that.’

‘Fae. Let’s say I believe you, and that Silas Wilde has magically stolen away Adelaide’s soul because she accepted something from him – that’s what you’re expecting me to believe, isn’t it?’

She didn’t answer but her eyes darted to the door and a subtle tensing of her frame made Kit sure she was about to run. He took a step between her and the door.

‘Tell me the truth!’ he yelled.

She jumped and, as he had suspected, she darted round him, but not to the door, to the window. He was quicker and seized her by the back of her dress, jerking her to a standstill. She tried to wriggle free, but he held tight, fury overcoming his scruples about handling a woman in such a manner.

‘No, you don’t! Whatever you claim to be, you’re an accomplice to abduction. I’m sending for the police.’

‘Abduction? Miss Wyndham is ill in bed.’ Miss Dove looked smug. ‘What will you tell the police?’

Her words gave him pause. What would he say? Admitting to his outlandish suspicions would see him laughed out of the police station or admitted to an asylum.

He took her by the arms and brought her face close to his. She was panting and her eyes gleamed. She looked as if she was enjoying herself. Kit wasn’t a violent man, and the idea of striking a woman was abhorrent to him but he could quite happily have shaken Miss Dove until her teeth rattled.

‘I will tell them that you broke into my flat – and I’m not exactly sure how you got in, which is something we can discuss later – and that you admitted your guardian is responsible for Addie’s state. I’ll mention that you might be supplying her with drugs, and they can start from there.’

She laughed. ‘Might as well tell them she pricked her finger on a spindle or ate a poisoned apple.’

Kit let go of her and raked his hands through his hair. He looked at her bleakly.

‘Why don’t you tell me the truth, rather than all the nonsense from fairy tales.’

‘That is the truth,’ Miss Dove said, sounding frustrated. ‘Why couldn’t you have accepted it as easily as Adelaide obviously did? I can see you need to see for yourself. Go to Miss Wyndham’s room. Silas will have given her something to use as a key to the gate. Finding that might convince you.’

‘Something? Don’t you know what?’

She looked shifty. ‘I do, but I’m unable to tell you. It’s not my settlement. You need to hunt for it yourself.’

She was so earnest that he was starting to believe her, despite the nonsense it clearly was. Kit heaved a sigh. He felt fully awake now after only an hour of napping, and he might as well do something productive with his time. He put on his dressing gown and slippers.

‘All right. I’ll go and look.’

‘Let’s go now.’

She turned towards the door. Kit caught her by the arm again.

‘You aren’t going anywhere near Adelaide.’

‘Then I’ll stay here.’ She looked unsurprised, and he wondered if she had ever expected him to agree. He looked her up and down. What to do with her while he searched was a conundrum. He didn’t want her alone in his rooms, yet he didn’t trust her enough to let her leave the house. He thought briefly of tying her to a chair but disregarded the idea as improper. He needed somewhere secure, and the perfect place flashed into his mind.

‘Come with me,’ he commanded, tugging her with him.

‘Where are we going?’

She pulled against him, but he took firm hold of her arm and put the other around her waist. He marched her through the building until he reached the servant’s wing where the butler’s pantry was located. Leading off from that private domain was the plate room. It didn’t contain as much silverware as it had at the height of the family’s wealth, because over the years various members had sold it off to meet debts. What it did have, however, was a door that comprised two layers of wood with iron bars inserted between them, and a grille on the small window. Everything too large to be stored in the locked cupboards was so obvious that if Miss Dove tried to steal anything while he was gone, he would spot its absence immediately.

Kit had expected the pantry to be empty, but the butler was sitting at the table in his shirtsleeves, poring over the racing pages of a newspaper and eating a sandwich. He jumped to attention when Kit walked in, closing the pages hastily.

‘Good evening, Mr Crossle. I’m sorry to disturb you so late but this woman knows something about what has happened to Miss Wyndham. Until I can find out I want to put her in the plate room. Do you have the key?’

‘Of course, sir.’ Crossle flashed a nasty look at Miss Dove. He’d worked for the family for decades and had always had a soft spot for Adelaide. He produced a ring of keys, slipped a large, iron one off the ring, and unlocked the door to the plate room.

Kit led Miss Dove to the door. As soon as she saw the room she let out a piercing wail and began to struggle against Kit.

‘You can’t put me in there!’

‘It’s perfectly safe and you’ll be able to breathe. The window is small, but I can open it a crack, and there are air holes so that the room doesn’t get damp.’

She was creating such a fuss, her eyes wide with genuine alarm, that it occurred to Kit she may suffer from claustrophobia and his determination briefly wavered.

‘Mr Crossle, will there be any handcuffs about the place?’ he asked. ‘The table here would be too heavy for her to move if I cuffed her to a leg.’

‘Unlikely to find any in the house, sir, but I could go out to the gamekeeper’s cottage and see what I can find lying around.’ Crossle’s eyes fell on Miss Dove. ‘There may be a mantrap we could repurpose,’ he said nastily.

‘That’s enough,’ Kit said sharply. ‘Well, Miss Dove, what is it to be? The plate room or Mr Crossle’s rather archaic suggestion?’

He was being a little disloyal to the butler, but really, mantrap, indeed!

‘But the iron,’ Miss Dove whimpered. ‘Please, no, I beg you!’

Her eyes filled with tears but Kit steeled his resolve and prodded her gently in the back to propel her forward into the room. He had been careful not to use excessive force, but as soon as they crossed the threshold she stumbled and collapsed in a ball on the floor, clutching her head.

‘It hurts,’ she moaned.

‘If you have hurt yourself then it’s your fault for flinging yourself to the ground in such a manner,’ growled Crossle from the doorway.

‘Fetch her something to sit on,’ Kit asked.

Crossle provided a low chair and Kit took it into the room, placing it against one of the cupboards.

‘Here, there’s no point sitting on the floor.’

She didn’t move so he put his arms under her armpits and lifted her. She weighed almost nothing. Her head rolled backwards and he almost dropped her with shock. She felt hot to the touch but her complexion was ashen, as if she’d lost a couple of pints of blood.

‘I’ll be as quick as I can searching Miss Wyndham’s room and come back once I’ve found whatever I’m looking for. If you’re ready to tell me the truth, we can talk.’

He lowered her onto the chair, whereupon she slumped against the door of the cupboard with a sigh.

‘Please Kit, don’t go. Don’t leave me here. I’ll die.’ Her voice was a whisper. Her words an echo too painful to be endured. Guilt drove a fist into Kit’s ribs and he almost changed his mind. He couldn’t have her blood on his hands. Then he pictured Adelaide lying on the chaise, her eyes fixed blankly on nothing. He had no choice but to commit to his plan. He balled his fists and pressed them hard against his temples then took a breath and turned back to Miss Dove.

‘You’re being melodramatic. The sooner you tell me what’s really going on, the sooner I’ll let you out of here.’

Her eyes rolled back as she focused on him. It looked to be taking a lot of effort.

‘My truth is told. If you can’t see it, then there’s no more I can do in the telling.’

‘It would really help if you gave me a hint what I should be looking for,’ he snapped.

‘Find the thing that doesn’t fit in the room.’ Miss Dove’s voice was slurred and barely audible. She dragged her head up and focused on his eyes. ‘Something she’s been given.’

It wasn’t much of a hint.

He walked out, closed the door behind him and locked it. He thought about leaving the key in the lock, in case Crossle needed to open the door, but given the butler’s animosity towards Miss Dove, he wasn’t sure that would be in anyone’s interests so he stuck it in his pocket, informed Crossle that he would be back as soon as possible, and left.

* * *

Aunt Sarah was dozing in the chair by the bed. She woke up with a start when Kit tapped her shoulder.

‘Is it morning already?’

Kit looked at his watch. It was just after eleven. No wonder he felt weary.

‘No, I just came to check on you.’

He glanced around the room but there was nothing untoward that was immediately obvious. No magic spinning wheel or glass slipper.

He hugged his aunt. ‘Aunt Sarah, why don’t you go and sleep in your own bed? Addie looks peaceful and nothing is going to happen to her tonight.’

‘Will you stay?’ Sarah asked.

‘For a little while, but really the best thing we can both do is keep well. You don’t want to become ill yourself.’

Sarah nodded and made her way wearily out of the room.

‘Right, Addie,’ Kit murmured once the door was closed. ‘Tell me what you’ve been hiding.’

It would have been helpful if Adelaide had been a neater person. Her discarded clothes were now hanging in the wardrobe, or had been taken by the laundry maid so the floor was clear. The bookshelf was cluttered with trinkets and photographs, while magazines covered the shelves. The dressing table was strewn with pots of creams, bottles of scent and a large bottle of setting lotion. Her jewellery box was open, but there was nothing unusual that he didn’t recognise. He checked the wardrobes and drawers, past caring about his intrusion into her privacy. A bitter taste filled his mouth. How stupid, how gullible must he be to have believed what Miss Dove had said to him! Of course, there was no such things as the Fae, it was all a huge joke on her part.

Except…

Merelda had thought so. The doctor did, too. Was Kit being stupid by refusing to allow the possibility?

Kit dropped to the floor and looked under the bed but there was nothing except a pair of slippers and a discarded paper tissue. He was about to stand, when the scent of lilacs filled his nose. It was unusual enough to catch his attention because he was familiar with the various perfumes Adelaide wore for daytime or evening, summer or winter and none of them smelled of lilacs. So where was the fragrance coming from?

Taking as much care as possible not to disturb Adelaide, he slid a hand under the pillow. His fingers brushed against petals. A ripple of triumph caused him to grunt but the sound didn’t wake her. Carefully, he drew his discovery out. It was the posy Adelaide had obtained at the fete. One of the three flowers was missing all the petals, leaving only a bare stem.

The flowers were days old. By now they should be wilted and crushed almost beyond recognition, especially after being beneath a pillow, but they were as fresh as the day he had first seen them. Even as he watched, the largest flower unfolded itself slightly, creased petals smoothing and plumping up. The scent pounded into his senses with a voluptuousness that was overbearing.

Kit swallowed, his mouth drying. Up until then he hadn’t genuinely believed there was any truth in Miss Dove’s words, but now his faith in the rational laws of the world were eroding by the second. He felt as though he had stepped onto an icy pond and seen the zigzag lines breaking on its surface under his weight. One more piece of impossible evidence would see him plunging into the depths.

‘What have you done, Adelaide?’ he muttered, crushing the flower in his palm.

She gave a long moan that vibrated with pleasure.

Miss Dove was waiting but she’d have to wait longer. Kit needed to talk to Merelda. It was too late, really, to go traipsing across the grounds, but he wanted to be sure he was not going slowly insane. He slipped the flowers into his dressing-gown pocket and walked to the dovecot, picking his way in semi-darkness. Tongues of damp grass lapped at his bare ankles unpleasantly.

Enid answered his knock. She was dressed in a red and gold smoking jacket and her hair was in papers. She looked him rapidly up and down.

‘Come in,’ she said, before he’d even spoken. ‘We haven’t gone to bed yet. We were about to have some cocoa.’

The dovecot was lit only by candles and smelled of chamomile and sage. Merelda was stirring an iron pan hanging over the fire suspended on the kettle chain. Her hair trailed down her back as it always did which contributed to the otherworldly effect. She looked at Kit and her eyes twinkled. It was undoubtedly Kit’s already warped imagination, but tonight he felt convinced he was walking into a witch’s cottage.

She tapped the spoon against the pan then walked to the sofa. ‘You read the books.’

‘I read the titles. I’ve skimmed through a couple of them.’

Merelda smiled.

‘Will you tell me why you gave me them now?’

She shook her head.

‘Why not?’ Kit asked tersely, flopping down onto a low, overstuffed armchair. Enid came back into the room carrying a small bottle. She sat down beside Merelda and the two women held hands.

‘Have a guess,’ Enid said. ‘I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.’

‘Don’t be harsh on him, dear,’ Merelda scolded gently. ‘He’s so clever he doesn’t remember how to be intelligent. He doesn’t believe what he sees. I gave you those books in particular because…’

She gave the familiar coughing croak and stopped talking, gesturing to the bottle. Enid passed it to her. Merelda swigged from it.

‘That’s better. Kit, I can’t answer your questions, I’ve told you that already.’

Miss Dove had told him she couldn’t help him, either. He sat back, trying to piece everything together. ‘Whenever you try to talk about it you start coughing.’

Merelda smiled. ‘True.’

‘Is there a reason for that?’

She looked away.

‘There’s a reason you can’t, isn’t there.’

Merelda smiled again. ‘True.’

Kit suspected he was getting the idea now. ‘You can only answer if the question requires a confirmation or denial.’

Enid beamed. ‘Finally!’

Merelda smiled and took another swig from the bottle. Kit tried to frame his next question. ‘Is there a limit on the number of questions I can ask?’

Enid snorted. ‘If there was, then that was a particularly stupid waste of one, wasn’t it?’

He acknowledged it with a bashful grin, thinking that Enid had given him the answer. No limit. It posed interesting questions about Enid and what she knew.

‘You gave me these books because the characters get taken by the Fae and this has happened to Adelaide.’

A tear trickled down Merelda’s cheek, travelling a path along the wrinkles. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘But she’s still here in body, even though her soul has gone somewhere else.’

‘You seem remarkably at ease with the idea. More than I’d expected,’ Merelda said. ‘Why?’

The milk in the pan chose that point to boil over, causing a hiss that made Kit jump. Enid put on an oven glove and poured it into the cocoa jug. She whisked vigorously then added a generous quantity of what Merelda had been drinking. The scent of honey filled the room.

‘What is that?’ Kit asked.

‘Mead,’ Merelda answered. ‘The libation that gives our home its name, though the origin is long forgotten I fear.’

Enid handed him a mug and he took a drink. His mind filled with the image of an autumn forest. Of tired bees crawling their slow way to the hives where they had laboured throughout the summer. Sadness wound through his veins, strangling him like ivy claiming a house.

‘Why do you believe?’ Merelda asked. ‘It’s not just the books. It would take more than that.’

‘I’m not at ease, at all. I want to think the whole thing is a joke or some sort of delusion, but it seems that I might be wrong about that.’ Kit took a long breath and pulled the flowers out of his pocket. He placed them on the table where they lay, innocuous enough but with a sharper edge to their outline than should be possible.

‘I found these beneath Adelaide’s pillow. I think Silas Wilde gave them to her on the day of the fair. I think that somehow they did what you suspect.’

The two women stared at them. Merelda extended a finger and prodded the blooms then sniffed dismissively.

‘What you’re telling me is unbelievable. It’s completely impossible,’ Kit said. ‘The only reason I’m even contemplating it being true is because I’ve had the same explanation from Miss Dove.’

Merelda and Enid exchanged a glance.

‘When?’ Merelda asked.

‘Tonight. I found her in my room. I don’t know how she got there without being seen.’

The dove sitting on the windowsill bobbed into his mind, but he dismissed it. One outlandish thing at a time.

‘She told me a story that is beyond belief. She told me that both she and Wilde are fairies. Fae,’ he corrected. He looked at Merelda to gauge her reaction, but she merely waved a hand, indicating he should continue.

‘It was Miss Dove who told me to look for something strange in Adelaide’s possession.’

‘Where is she now?’ Merelda asked.

‘She’s secure,’ Kit said. ‘I locked her in the plate room.’

Merelda dropped her cup. Cocoa splattered her nightgown, but she didn’t seem to notice.

‘You enclosed her in iron! Whose wrath are you trying to provoke? You have no idea what you’re dealing with, and if she dies you’ll rue it.’

‘She’s not going to die,’ Kit said, startled by the reaction.

“Don’t leave me here, Kit.”

He folded his arms defensively. ‘There is plenty of air and it’s warm enough.’

‘It’s bound by iron, you wantwit,’ Merelda sighed.

‘A touch of it is as painful to her as mustard gas is to you,’ Enid added.

‘That’s nonsense,’ Kit said.

Merelda scoffed. ‘Nonsense, is it? Take her my kettle and ask her to pour it. She won’t even lift the handle. I bet she didn’t want to go in there, did she.’

‘Of course she didn’t. She was being locked in a cupboard under threat of me calling the police.’

‘And I bet she swooned,’ Enid muttered.

Kit couldn’t meet her eye, remembering the lolling head and pallid skin.

‘If you don’t want a death on your hands, you’d better release her quick, and if you don’t want a curse on you, you’d better make apologies,’ Merelda said.

Kit scowled. ‘I’m not apologising for anything. She’s an accomplice to a kidnapping. Well, a kidnapping of sorts, hell, I don’t know! I don’t understand any of this. You don’t even seem surprised at what I’m telling you. How do you know all this anyway?’

Merelda opened her mouth and only croaking came out. The same awful croaking that came whenever she tried to answer his questions. He took a breath.

‘Merelda,’ he asked carefully. ‘Are you under a spell?’

‘The truth,’ she breathed.

Kit balled his hands into fists, remembering the curious phrase Silas had used. He’d assumed Silas was getting the expression wrong because English wasn’t his native language but perhaps he’d been wrong. ‘Merelda, do you have a toad on your tongue?’

She shut her eyes tightly and opened her mouth. Kit looked.It was a normal tongue, as far as he could tell.

‘Silas Wilde is a…’

Merelda got no further through the sentence before the shape of her mouth changed and a squat, bulbous shape lay where her tongue should be. Small eyes caught the candlelight, turning the creature’s old, black pupils orange as they stared at Kit. It gave one, long croak.

Kit’s stomach heaved and the taste of bile filled his throat. He jerked to his feet, trying to escape the stifling room, but too late. He dropped to his knees and threw up expansively on the rug.