Chapter 5 #2
“Only by reputation.”
He nodded. “Well, how he has survived in the service of a tyrant like Giles Corey all these years, being as he seems, a godly man, I cannot say.”
All these years?
And that fast I was reminded that the reality these people were living in was not mine.
This was a time slip, and I needed to keep that in mind.
I could fix all this. I simply had to figure out how to break the spell.
But again, the concern was, if Corvus was too fractured to be called on, I had no chance to restore what was lost.
“Corvus is a cursed place,” Clemson told me. “I have no doubt the devil himself will one day come calling.”
“You speak the truth now, Clem,” Albert confirmed, then took hold of my bicep and moved me out of the way as a small carriage rolled by.
It didn’t take long for the men to unload the pelts into the back of the simple wagon and then hitch Troy up. Once Barrett and Albert were in the front, and Clemson and I were sitting in the back, our legs hanging over the side, we began toward the mansion Giles had replaced my sweet cottage with.
The building was…immense. The driveway had been meticulously cleared of snow.
It was cobblestone, and the entryway to the mansion had eight columns made of black-and-white marble.
Everyone stepping down from their carriages was helped by waiting footmen, and the whole place was ablaze with gas lights.
It was undeniably gorgeous, a Greek Revival Center Hall Colonial with stunning landscaping.
The trees that had stood near my cottage for centuries were gone too, and that in and of itself, nearly made me cry.
As we rolled past the front gates, Clemson said, “The likes of us are allowed solely at the servants’ entrance.”
Once Barrett finally turned us down another cobblestone drive, this one barely wide enough for the wagon to navigate between the hedges, when it opened up, I saw the door and the steps that led to the basement.
We left the wagon, and I couldn’t resist patting Troy goodbye before bolting after the others, needing to get out of the cold.
“Are you going to see Mr. MacBain directly?” I asked Barrett when I caught him on the flight of marble stairs.
He scoffed. “We will not see Mr. MacBain, only collect our money from his man.”
And I knew, logically, that whoever it was, was not Lorne’s man like I was, but still, even the sound of the word made me bristle.
It also meant I wouldn’t see Lorne. I would need to skulk around the house and look for him.
I had no idea how I was going to manage that.
If Giles saw me, he’d kill me, and I was betting he would have a lot of help, judging from the amount of people working for him.
When I got inside, I was surprised at the number of servants rushing around with loaded platters, serving trays, and even something as long and wide as a door, carried by four men up the stairs.
After taking in all the activity, I darted around Barrett to reach the enormous fireplace, afraid I was never going to get the circulation back in my hands and feet.
I ached for my cottage even as I knew how spoiled I was.
But it had always taken care of me, kept me warm and sheltered, so the hot tears welling in my eyes were not a surprise.
There was a deep yearning for hearth and home.
“Have you brought me another helper for my kitchen, Mr. Callaway?” a woman asked him. “You promised to find me a suitable replacement when you took young Robert under your wing and lost him hunting bears.”
That sounded horrible, and when I glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Callaway, I noted his cold stare and realized, then, that he had no intention of taking me with him into town.
I really needed to get better at reading people.
Lorne remarked often that I was far too trusting, but, conversely, expecting everyone to betray you seemed like a terrible way to live.
I was certain Mr. Callaway was going to get paid for killing predators on Corvus, but he was also going to get paid for delivering me to this short, plump red-haired woman with a peaches-and-cream complexion and a lovely, lilting voice.
“We found him in the woods, Mrs. Brogan, and though he might be a changeling with how fair of face he is, I know he will work hard here in your service.”
The last part was for my benefit. If I argued, he’d gut me, I had no doubt. But why would I? This was where Lorne was, so this was exactly where I needed to be.
More people came through then, moving in tandem, frantic scuttling servants rushing in every direction.
Beyond where I was by the fire, there were several large rooms—one where chefs were preparing meals, another where cake baking and decorating was going on, and another where glasses were being filled with wine and champagne.
It was a whole production to get people fed and, I was guessing, inebriated.
If one person was out of step or in the way, I could imagine the entire choreography crashing to a halt.
I was overwhelmed by the scope of the house, the number of servants, and most of all by what Giles Corey had done to Corvus.
I worried about William, whose time it was now.
Were there still simply different planes, or had Giles hurt him and his wife?
And if he had, how was I still alive? I needed answers, but more than anything else, I needed Lorne.
“You there, by what name are you called?”
Realizing Mrs. Brogan with her dulcet tone was speaking to me, I rushed to her side, timing my movements so I didn’t get in anyone’s way. “Xander ma’am.”
“Tell me, Xander, you don’t look like a hunter or a laborer. Where might you have worked before becoming lost in the woods?”
“I worked in a kitchen, ma’am.”
“Oh, you will be rewarded if it be true,” she told Mr. Callaway before returning her attention to me. “I need biscuits to pair with the ham, biscuits to serve with dinner—truthfully now, boy, are you able to make them?”
“I can. Corn or buttermilk?”
Her brows furrowed in confusion.
I dredged my brain for snippets of information my grandmother had related to me in passing. Generational memory was a blessing. “Pardon, I meant hardtack, or a beaten or maybe you know it as a rolled, biscuit. I can make either.”
Instantly, the creases disappeared. “Excellent,” she announced, taking hold of my arm. “Bid your rescuers goodbye,” she instructed me, then looked at Mr. Callaway. “Collect your coin from Mr. Gaffney,” she directed. “Tell him I’m paying for a baker’s helper.”
“A baker’s helper,” Mr. Callaway said, sounding pleased. I was guessing the going rate for one of me was more than he’d been expecting. “Bless you, lad.”
He had no right to say that—he’d basically sold me—but he also brought me where I needed to be, under Giles’s nose, into his house, so I waved even as Mrs. Brogan hauled me away.
She walked me to a large sink so I could wash up before she set me free in yet another room, the pastry area beside the pantry.
“Now, after we get the first wave of people fed, I’ll send you to speak to Mr. Gaffney, the steward’s man. He must have you sign the register to be on staff.”
My exhale was long. “Thank you for taking me in.”
“Well, I need someone, and you have a good face. At first glance, when you rushed by me to the hearth, when I spied your long hair and lashes, I thought you were a lass. But when you turned, I noted the shoulders and chest and knew you were not. I need a strapping lad, and you will do well.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You will need a bath tonight, and I will find a uniform for you. Once you get paid, you can purchase some clothes in town.”
“I will.”
“We all sleep in the east wing, and one of the other lads will show you there this evening once the dinner service concludes.”
I thanked her, and once I was done washing to her satisfaction—I had been underground earlier in the evening and never gotten my shower—I got a kerchief for my hair, ties to keep my sleeves up, and a pristine white apron. She gave me directions, then left me to it.
I got to work using my grandmother’s buttermilk-biscuit recipe, doing the math in my head to quadruple the servings. I was pleased to see that the wood-fired oven was ready for me—I only had to keep it hot—and thanked my grandparents for teaching me to cook in one.
It was comforting to lose myself in a task, to gather my strength and thoughts and prepare to see Lorne.
It occurred to me that the time slip might have done something to his memory, altered it, made him forget me, but I shoved that away because dwelling on it was useless.
Amanda always said that worrying before you even knew if you had to was a waste of valuable energy.
I took a breath, thought about her and the kids and her husband, Eddie, and felt better.
It was grounding to remember who you were and who loved you.
Baking always helped, so I mixed, covered every surface with flour, rolled out dough, cut it, then again and again, until I could finally put my creations in the oven.
Another server, a pixie of a woman with blonde curls and freckles, brought me a plate of cheese, sausage, and sliced apples on Mrs. Brogan’s order.
“I don’t eat meat,” I told her.
“May I have them?”
“Oh yeah, please.”
She squinted at me, and I knew the yeah had sounded odd.
“I meant, help yourself.”
I got a wide smile then. “Your biscuits smell heavenly, and I have not seen any that were so large and…I know not.”
“Fluffy?” I offered.
“Fluffy?” She sounded confused.
My brain was lagging just a bit. “Like clouds. Light and fluffy.”
She nodded. “Yes. Fluffy.”
I moved one slowly off the baking sheet I’d pulled from the oven, then slipped it into the pocket of her apron. “Try it with honey. That’s the best.”
“You have an odd way of speaking—what is your name?”
“Xander. And yours?”
“Constance.”
We shook hands.
“Do you enjoy working here, Constance?” I asked as I moved around, pulling trays out of the oven and putting more in.
“Truthfully, I do not. My parents own a bakery in town, but the rent is due to Mr. Corey each month, and he raised it to more than was possible. My mother believes he did that so I would be made to work off the difference here.”
So not only was he hurting me, Lorne, Corvus, the flora and fauna, but he was hurting people, families, in Osprey as well. “I’m so very sorry.”
She stepped in close and lowered her voice. “There were girls who came to work at the same time I did, who used to live in rooms on the fourth floor. They were said to be working off debts by being made into fallen women.”
It kept getting worse.
“Said to be?” I asked, having picked up on that. “Were?” I was repeating her words.
“When Mr. MacBain came, they were all returned to their families with funds. Now Mr. Corey has others that come here from the city. It is understood that it is now a brothel.”
Lorne was a knight; of course he’d saved all the damsels in distress.
“I have been asked…” She started to speak, then stopped, tears welling in her big sky-blue eyes. “I…Mr. Corey has been more and more insistent that I…”
I grabbed hold of her hands. “No. Tell him no. And never, ever, go anywhere in the house alone. I don’t care if it’s down the hall to the washroom in the middle of the night. You need to always have someone with you. Do you understand?”
“You are in earnest.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I will follow this mandate.”
“Good,” I said, letting go of her hands and rushing to the pantry. I pulled out a jar of cinnamon, poured some into my hand, then returned to her. I blew it over her, and she was delighted to watch as it encircled her, landing lightly, dusting her hair.
I needed something else, something that would protect her and magically irritate him, bother him enough not to want to be in her presence.
She needed it on her person, and I was tempted to make her a small pentacle out of bread and make her carry it in her pocket.
Of course I’d need to make a new one every time it broke, but—
Something fell to the left of me, breaking my concentration when it hit the floor.
Slipping around the end of the table, I was stunned to see a small silver disk with a carving in the center.
When I retrieved it, I was so pleased. The Algiz rune was etched there, bold, ready to serve, which was perfect.
The fact that it was on a leather cord was astounding.
Not because my family, working through my cottage, had not provided for others before, but because I hadn’t thought it possible. Not here in this tainted time.
“Thank you,” I said to the ether, as though I was back at home, in my cottage, speaking to my ancestors, or outside, walking the grounds, speaking to Corvus as I had since I was a child.
“Oh, do you smell lavender and verbena?” Constance asked me.
I certainly did and breathed in, inhaling it into my lungs. Underneath whatever this glamour was, a piece of Corvus was still mine. I was connected too deeply, and Giles would have to kill me to sever the bond.
Putting the cord with the talisman on it over her head, I held the rune in my hand until I felt it spark and awaken, ready to hear my intention. “Protect this child, be a shield from any who would do harm, and be always vigilant.”
Her eyes were wide as I leaned back.
So softly that I could barely hear her, she asked, “Are you a witch, then, Xander?”
“I am,” I replied honestly before thinking it through. Earlier I’d had a lesson on who not to trust, and here I was again, putting my faith in another person.
“And do you lie with the devil?”
I chuckled. If she only knew how much I despised demons. “There’s no devil in witchcraft. Wiccans believe in nature. Don’t you?”
She nodded slowly.
“Don’t take it off.”
“Oh, I will not,” she promised, crossing her heart before tucking the talisman under her shirt to keep it hidden from sight, which, unbeknownst to her, was also the right choice for protection magic.
“Go take Mrs. Brogan some biscuits on a plate with butter and honey, and tell her that the first few batches are ready to be served.”
“I will.”
“Do you know where Mr. MacBain’s rooms are?”
“Yes. His quarters are on the third floor. I can see his balcony when I walk the grounds.”
“I need to know precisely where they are.”
Once she explained, describing the hallway and the door, she was off, and I baked more biscuits and considered my plan.
I was going to get Giles Corey off Corvus, restore the timeline, and make certain he was not allowed to hurt anyone else. I just needed to figure out how to do that. It all started, for me, with reuniting with the man I loved. One step at a time was always the best plan.