Chapter 9 #2
Magda looked at me in surprise. “Of course I did. That is what she wished to hear, and it was the truth. And I tell you the truth as well—that man is like the raven. His shadow speaks of death to come.”
“Enough!” I cried, and pushed past her.
“Tell me, lady, has he ever told you the truth about Mariah Young?” she called after me, laughing her harsh, grating laugh.
I stalked off, refusing to turn and address her.
The question she asked had nagged at me since I first heard the name Mariah Young.
I knew little about her, save that she had some attachment to the Roma, and some connection to Brisbane as well.
And that she had been murdered. Beyond that I knew nothing.
I had asked Brisbane only once, and he had refused to speak of her.
The fact that Magda knew I would have asked, and that Brisbane would not have confided in me, confirmed she knew both of us better than I could have wished.
The gentlemen were just concluding the deal when I approached, with much slapping of hands and laughter and no doubt a few ribald jokes as well. They had dispersed to join the ladies, all save Sir Cedric who remained, stroking the hunter’s nose with an air of proprietary satisfaction.
“Ah, Lady Julia!” he cried as I approached. “Congratulate me, if you please. I have just become the owner of this magnificent animal.”
I peered at the hunter’s face, noting the edge of white showing cleanly around the entire eyeball. I smiled.
“Congratulations, indeed, Sir Cedric. I hope Mephistopheles will make you an excellent mount.”
His hand paused. He looked at me, a trifle uncertainly. “Mephistopheles? Like the devil?”
“Yes, but I am certain it is a term of opposite affection. As one will name a black kitten Snowflake, that sort of thing.”
His expression eased and he went on petting the animal’s nose.
It was the first opportunity I had had to assess Lucy’s fiancé in any sort of detail.
He had removed his gloves to better acquaint himself with his purchase.
His hands were manicured, but all the creams and unguents in the world could not erase the patchwork of scars and calluses formed from many years of hard labour.
His tweeds were well-cut and almost alarmingly new.
They bore the hallmarks of good tailoring, doubtless from the finest shops in Savile Row.
Beneath his hat, a few stray locks of silvering blond hair curled to his collar.
His whiskers were the same odd mix of silver and gold, and with his ruddy complexion and tawny eyes, the whole put me greatly in mind of an aging lion.
His physique was powerful and sturdy, though he lacked Brisbane’s inches.
“Well, what do you make of the old boy then?” he asked, and I turned my attention to the horse.
“A very fine hunter. Perhaps he needs a bit of training to settle his nerves, but with the proper handling—”
“Not the animal,” he corrected. “Me. Shall I pass muster to marry Lucy? Or am I too rough a creature to be connected to the Marches?”
He spoke lightly, with a chuckle underscoring his words, but I fancied I heard something else there, the faintest note of resentment.
I reached out and stroked the horse’s nose. He flared his nostrils at me, but ducked his head to be rubbed again.
“Sir Cedric, you have met my father’s Aunt Dorcas. The fact that we still own her as one of ours should speak volumes on the subject.”
He nodded. “She does seem a bit of a Tartar, that one. There is not much love lost between her and Emma and my Lucy.”
I hesitated. If our dirty linen was pegged out, the line would stretch from Brighton to Newcastle. And yet, Sir Cedric was not yet kin. I did not like to air too many of our troubles before him.
“I think many young ladies of spirit resent the hand that curbs them,” I temporised. “You needn’t have her to stay once you are settled. She will expect it, of course, but Father will make certain she is cared for.”
Sir Cedric drew back, a trifle affronted, I think, his colour rising. “Lady Julia, I hope I shall always do my duty by my relations, both by blood and marriage.”
“Of course you will,” I hastened to soothe him. “I had a very nice chat with Mr. Ludlow earlier. I know you gave him a place when he was left to make his way in the world. Very commendable.”
His face relaxed, the swift ruddy colour abating a little. I had not thought him so easily vexed, but it appeared he had the temper to match his complexion. I only hoped Lucy knew how to manage him.
“I did. He is a clever boy, and I could have searched the City twice over and not found his match. He can tally a ledger page just by running his eye over the figures, and he can write a perfect letter the first time through, with nary a blob or smudge. Any employer would be lucky to have got him, but he is mine and I mean to keep him.”
A peculiar turn of phrase, I thought, and I wondered briefly if he thought the same about Lucy.
I smiled. “Well, I will leave you to your acquisition, Sir Cedric. I wish you every happiness with him.”
I gave the horse a final pat and turned in the direction of the ladies and their little tea party on the carpet.
As I moved away I heard Sir Cedric give a sharp exclamation. “He bit me! Here, sir, I shall not want this horse. The damned thing bit me!”
I covered a smile with my hand and hastened my steps. Retrieving his money from Jasper’s pocket would be a frustrating and ultimately futile exercise. Watching him try would have been tempting, but there was other game afoot.
As I neared the ladies, Mrs. King approached me, having abandoned her efforts at conversation with the Gypsy child.
“My lady!” she called. I waited for her, and she hurried, her face a trifle pale.
“Mrs. King, are you quite all right?”
She paused, biting at her lip. “I do not know. My lady, can you tell me if that woman—Magda, I believe her name is—can you tell me if she is quite truthful?”
I shrugged. “She is as truthful as any of her race.”
Mrs. King blinked at me. “I thought you were their champion. I am surprised to hear you speak thusly.”
For some unaccountable reason I felt cross with her, and I did not trouble to hide the edge in my voice.
“Mrs. King, I am no one’s champion. I hope the Roma may be treated with respect and compassion.
But those hopes do not prevent me from seeing them as they are.
They have been greatly persecuted by our laws for centuries.
Duplicity is simply their means of surviving in an unjust world.
If I say they lie, I mean it as a statement of fact, and only because they are forced to it, as you or I would be in the same circumstances. ”
She shook her head. “I do not mean to quarrel with you about the Roma. But I must know if this woman speaks truly. Does she have the sight?”
I tipped my head to the side and looked at her carefully, from the pale complexion to the tiny lines sketched at the corners of her eyes. I had not noticed them before. “She frightened you, didn’t she? When she told you your fortune.”
Mrs. King dropped her eyes, but not before I saw them fill with tears.
“She touched my betrothal ring at first. I thought she was going to give me a fortune like Miss Lucy’s.
I expected her to speak of wedding trips and trousseaux.
Instead she dropped my hand and stared straight through me.
She bored into me with those black eyes.
I felt quite faint for a moment, but I heard her distinctly.
She warned me about ghosts. She said I was in danger, if I did not leave the Abbey, some terrible fate would befall me. ”
I nearly snorted, and to cover the sound, I coughed behind my glove. Mrs. King clapped me heartily on the back.
“Are you quite all right?”
I waved her away. “Perfectly, I assure you.”
Magda, for all her faults, could occasionally perpetrate an act of genius.
Doubtless she had heard through the grapevine of village gossip that Mrs. King was betrothed to Brisbane.
And though she liked to utter her Cassandra-like warnings about him to me, she also knew I harboured a tendresse for him.
Magda and I had had our troubles, but she would always be loyal to me, in her own fashion.
I touched Mrs. King’s arm. “I should not worry if I were you, my dear.”
Mrs. King clutched at me. “She said I should retire early, bolt my door, and not stir until morning,” she whispered.
Gently, I detached her fingers. “Excellent advice. The Abbey is full of odd little staircases and twisty corridors. One might take a nasty tumble in the dark. Far better to stay safely in your room.”
She nodded, clasping her hands together. “I must warn the others though. It would be selfish of me not to do so.”
I raised my hand to pat her again, then thought better of it. “Do whatever you think is best, my dear.”
She thanked me, and I think would have even tried to embrace me, but Brisbane had spotted us together and was moving rapidly in our direction.
“Ah, here is your fiancé now. I am sure he will be only too happy to allay your fears. If you will excuse me,” I murmured, making a hasty retreat.
When I was a safe distance away, I hazarded a glance back over my shoulder. Mrs. King was turned away from me, her face buried in Brisbane’s shoulder. He was staring over her head at me, his expression unfathomable.
Then I remembered the lesson of Lot’s wife, and hurried on my way.