Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Kendrick returned home one evening covered in whitewash from Ossuary improvements to find Genevieve pacing stiff-armed outside the ballroom, a pinched look on her face as loud voices echoed behind the door. “What’s toward?” he asked. Ball preparations had consumed Genevieve the last two nights.
“Nothing dire,” she said with a sigh. “Merely a conflict between some of the musicians. The conductor is entirely fixed on the ‘correct’ way an orchestra should perform. But we have two performers who are insistent the only instruments they know how to play—though I think it should be willing to play—are the hurdy-gurdy and psaltery.” As voices rose once again behind the door, she winced.
“Perhaps letting them work it out themselves was not the best idea, but I don’t think I can go back in now.
We hired Monsieur Dupont as maestro, and to go back in now and sort it out would diminish his authority. ”
“Wise of you. What else is causing that frown?”
“Oh,” she sighed. “It’s Fletcher. His sleep is entirely disordered from being in a household that is always active, and I feel a bit guilty about it. He doesn’t seem to mind being awake at two in the morning, though.”
“As long as he is sleeping, I don’t see it harming him. Part of it is the newness. The other part is that he likely was used to it even before—he walked you back from Sally’s consistently late at night, and we don’t know what he did after that. He will settle into a rhythm.”
“I think he is, but I don’t know,” Genevieve admitted.
“I was planning to join Dominic at the fencing club after I wash. I’ll bring him along.” When Genevieve bit her lip, Kendrick said, “He will enjoy it, and a boy ought to have weapons training. I learned the spear at his age, or even younger.”
“Not in this era,” Genevieve said with a bit of fond exasperation.
“Any era. And it will tire him out.” Kendrick leaned to kiss Genevieve carefully on the mouth without touching her elsewhere. “I will content myself with this so I do not mar your gown with whitewash. We’ll be back before dawn.”
A scrubbed Kendrick and eager Fletcher, who showed no signs of flagging even though it was past midnight, met Dominic at the fencing academy.
Kendrick’s friend had continued to lodge Evangeline and her children because of the convenience of a wet nurse.
He was also a comfort to Evangeline, who continued to worry she might harm the children on accident.
Dominic thought it highly unlikely, but he was more than happy for them to remain at Fernside.
He had determined to assist Evangeline in handling her transition from human to vampire, along with Elspeth.
However, it created a lot of anger in him for Laurent, Elspeth had confided to Kendrick one night.
Kendrick had made the appointment thinking that beating on each other with swords a sufficient outlet for feeling helpless. All in all, though, he was feeling quite cheerful about Dominic. What better way to pull someone back to the land of the living than to care for another?
Kendrick spent the first half hour instructing Fletcher on how to hold the blunted training sword and how to do a few simple thrusts and parries, recruiting Dominic for demonstrations.
“This is a weapon and not a toy, for all that it is a training weapon,” Kendrick told Fletcher seriously. “You respect it similarly.”
“Right you are, guv,” Fletcher said, taking hold of the training foil with reverence. “Bloomin’ great pig sticker, ain’t it?”
“However, if you’re ever attacked by a vampire, you need silver.”
“I know that, guv. Reavers are scared of silver.”
“We aren’t scared,” Kendrick corrected him. “It burns us, like thrusting your hand into fire would sear you. To take down a vampire, you need silver, and you aim for the heart.” He demonstrated the strike. “In a real fight, you may not get a second chance.”
“Need a pretty wicked knife for that,” Fletcher observed.
“You would.” Kendrick made himself a note to commission silver-plated daggers for the human members of their household. He had sworn oaths of protection. To his mind, that included giving his dependents the tools to protect themselves.
“You must do something about his elocution,” Dominic said as they watched the boy practice his lunges and return to the ready position. The boy was small but quick; he could be a swordsman if he wanted to be. And who knew? With regular meals and safety, he might have some growth in him yet.
“First Genevieve has to get him to agree to learn to read,” Kendrick said dryly. “Are you ready?”
“Ready to trounce you? Of course,” Dominic said, laying aside his coat.
“One of these days, I really must find another broadsword.”
“Oh, no. You’re just disappointed the attacks against you have dwindled down. You’re not about to cleave me open if you get a little too enthusiastic.”
“What if I found wooden practice broadswords?” Kendrick suggested with a longsuffering sigh.
“Maybe. A very conditional maybe. En garde.”
The men spent a very companionable time slashing at each other with swords. Partway through their duel, Fletcher wandered over to watch. However, when he started to yawn, even with the rapid, thrilling moves they were performing, Kendrick called a halt.
“Bed for you,” he informed Fletcher.
“Naw,” Fletcher said, but he spoiled it by yawning so hugely, Kendrick could see his tonsils.
Kendrick laughed and scooped the boy up as Dominic set the room to rights and extinguished the lights.
“Here, put me down, guv! I ain’t no parcel to be toted about!” Fletcher said in dismay.
“Neither is Genevieve. I carry her all the time,” Kendrick said. The boy’s weight was negligible for Kendrick’s strength. “Climb on my back if you’d rather.”
The boy agreed to this, resting his chin on the shoulder that did not sport the hilt of Kendrick’s sword, his arms around Kendrick’s neck. They only walked a block before he felt Fletcher’s body relax.
“The stubbornness of youth,” Dominic murmured. “I have enjoyed having August and June in my house. Children say the most astounding things.”
“They do. Their power of absorption rivals the sponge. I’m glad that the housing situation has turned out so well,” Kendrick added. “I had hoped it would benefit everyone for the family to remain at Fernside.”
“It’s the most curious thing, Kendrick,” Dominic said, stopping at the street where they would part ways. “It feels as though something in me is waking up again.” He rubbed a hand absently over his chest before bidding Kendrick a good evening.
Kendrick smiled a little as he turned towards Carmine House, Fletcher snoring quietly on his back and exhaling little puffs of steam into the air.
The next night, Genevieve arrived at the Ossuary’s new dressmaker’s station just in time to see Sparrow unearth the bolts of fabric purchased to outfit London’s vampires in ball finery.
Miss Singh and Miss Doyle, who had been hired on as dressmakers to assist in crafting everyone’s ball attire, exclaimed over the bounty.
“Oh, I’ve longed to see the new dress patterns.
” Miss Doyle sighed, smoothing her hands over the new bolts of fabric.
“And the colors! So vibrant.” Her own gown’s fabric was faded to an indeterminate shade of gray the same shade of her hair.
Her pale skin was nearly translucent in the lamplight, and she sported fine lines at the corners of her eyes.
Miss Singh, a taller, visibly younger woman with a dark completion and very large eyes, though colorless, as was typical of vampires, reviewed the pattern books avidly. “How glad I am that hoops and crinoline have decreased. But what shall we do about the tail that the gowns now require?”
“Certainly, some people will not wish a dramatic bustle,” Miss Doyle said, glancing anxiously at Sparrow and Genevieve. “Perhaps simply a pad of some sort, to give the correct shape?”
“I’m sure that would serve very well,” Genevieve said. “If there is a high demand for bustles that we can’t supply before the ball, I’m sure we could order whatever we lack.”
Both dressmakers froze.
“From…a human establishment?” Miss Doyle ventured tentatively.
Miss Singh huffed. “No, from a djinn. Of course human, Margaret.” However, her expression remained dubious.
Genevieve exchanged a look with Sparrow. “Would that be a problem?”
“Oh, no!” Miss Doyle exclaimed hurriedly, a waxen smile stretching across her face. “No, no. Of course not. We would never dream of questioning…” She swallowed.
“I should have phrased that better,” Genevieve amended. “I should have said, ‘I would like to know your thoughts on the subject.’”
Sparrow sent her a subtle nod.
Miss Doyle worried at her lower lip.
Miss Singh sighed and said, “We have always been instructed by our maker that vampires and humans shouldn’t mix.”
“I see,” Genevieve said.
Certain vampires—such as Godfrey, Dominic’s maker—thought vampires should maintain a separate existence from human society.
They never took into account how feasible that actually was with vampires’ need to feed.
Or how such beliefs conflicted with their actual lifestyles, such as in Godfrey’s case, with a human household that supported them.
However, that was only one outlook. There were those like Dominic, who understood humans were necessary to their survival and functioning in a household, and subsequently took care of those who took care of them.
There were those like Laurent and Cuthbert, who loved causing chaos and pain and viewed humans only as playthings and food.
Then there were the puppeteers who wished to move other vampires and humans according to their whims like pieces on a chess board.
Genevieve had acquired a much closer acquaintance with the first and last groups since she and Kendrick had begun to make what she privately thought as “lord and lady of the manor” trips to all the known large vampiric households in London.