Chapter 23 #2
There was still half an hour to her first dance.
Perhaps she could begin her investigation now.
She skipped up the staircase and slipped into the foyer.
The butler and the footmen were busy handling a new group of guests, and she used the distraction to run up the other staircase leading into the private area of the mansion and slink into the shadows.
Where the Silence lies low. If Silence meant Lady Jersey, the best bet would be her bedroom, where she’d lie down for a rest. Flattening herself against the wall, Emmeline moved down the upstairs hallway, carefully listening in front of each door, then opening it when the coast seemed clear.
A guest bedroom. Too clean, and not a single comb or piece of jewelry on the vanity table—couldn’t belong to a permanent resident.
Next, a linen closet; then, a man’s bedroom, based on the shaving supplies by the washbasin.
But the following room looked promising.
The vanity table held a bunch of accessories; its owner had clearly been picking through jewelry recently.
It smelled fresh and citrusy, as if regularly cleaned.
Emmeline slipped inside and tiptoed to the writing desk.
Empty, except for one crumpled paper. She straightened it out and checked it against the soft light from the window, finding some crossed-out sentences about the weather and a signature: Sarah.
Lady Jersey.
Something moved behind her. Emmeline whipped around, silencing a scream when a tall, dark figure rose above her—and with it, a déjà vu; a memory of when she’d snuck into the duke’s study to look for the pendant. Even the figure looked the same.
“Emmeline?” the voice said.
She squinted. “Theo?”
A few seconds passed as they stared at each other.
“What are you doing here?” they said at the same time.
“I’m searching for the next clue,” Emmeline said. “I figured the Silence—”
“Was Lady Jersey.” Theo finished.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m doing the same.”
“You’re trying to beat me?” She raised her voice, then dropped it back to a whisper. “Those are my clues!”
“I know. But when I realized where it would be, I figured I’d go look for it and deliver it to you,” he said. “So you wouldn’t get in trouble sneaking around her house.”
“And you can?”
He opened his mouth, but no good argument came out.
“Let’s look, then,” she said. Too little time to lose, or to spend arguing. Besides, it was comforting having Theo here, even if he was annoyed at her. “I’m supposed to be back in two dances.”
He let out a light chuckle.
“What?” she asked.
“You seem to be fitting in so well.” He moved to Lady Jersey’s writing desk, flicking over the letter. “One could hardly imagine you’re from a hundred years in the future. I can hardly imagine that future.”
She moved closer to him. “You’ve been with me in the past.”
“I didn’t say I don’t believe you. But the past is somehow easier to comprehend. It’s known. The future…” He shook his head. “How must your life be?”
Emmeline’s words stuck in her throat. Binding, suppressive, she’d wanted to say, but realized quickly enough it wasn’t true. Or at least, it wasn’t the entire truth.
Because the future—her life—it had also been beautiful.
“Emmeline?” Theo’s voice was gentle, and as she raised her eyes to him, she beheld him through the blurriness of tears. “What’s wrong?” He lifted his hands, as if to hold her shoulders, then dropped them.
“I miss them so much,” she squeezed out.
Theo led her to the bed, and they sat down. “You said you left because of the restrictions your parents placed on you.”
“I was wrong. Anything they did, it wasn’t worse than not having them in my life at all.”
He let a few moments pass in heavy silence. “Tell me about them,” he said then.
She shook her head, sniffling.
“It’ll help.” With hooded eyes, Theo glanced at the carpeted floor. “Do you remember the night I told you about Jean-Baptiste?”
He hadn’t wanted to speak about him, either, but she’d asked him to. And it had helped him.
So the words finally poured out of her, memories rushing out like an avalanche. She told him of every beautiful, funny, and happy moment she could think of, and there were many; so many she’d kept away in her anger and bitterness, in her stubborn desire to break away from her family.
Her birthday four years ago, when Mother had announced Emmeline was old enough to get a real adult evening gown, and she took her shopping at Times Square. They spent the entire day going from clothier to clothier, trying on dresses, posing and laughing and bringing home not one, but five pieces.
The summer when she was little and Father had taught her how to ride a bicycle (first, she had to explain to Theo what a bicycle was).
Father had spent two hours beforehand making sure the touted safety bicycle really was safe, and attempted to give Emmeline careful instructions, only for her to hop on and drive off, promptly crashing into a nearby bush with heaps of laughter and a few scratches on her arms.
Or the winter before last, when the whole family went to the Lake in Central Park to ice skate.
Brendon was in the pinnacle of his awkward teenage phase, and his uncoordinated, gangly limbs provided endless amusement for Emmeline as he tried his best to keep balance on ice skates.
Tristan, conversely, had taken to skating like an ice demon, and would probably make it to the other side of Manhattan, if only the rink stretched far enough.
And she told Theo about New York. About how you could walk for hours in one direction and still not reach the end of the city, but that you could also travel by subway—trains that went underground (she explained trains, first).
She told him about skyscrapers, the impossibly tall buildings that sprung up all around Manhattan as she grew up, and of the evenings spent watching shows on Broadway, with Twelfth Night being her favorite.
Sometime during her outpour, a warmness in her chest overcame the sadness. She still missed her family dearly, but talking about them, instead of trying to keep her thoughts away, released the invisible bindings around her heart.
“They sound lovely,” Theo said. “Your city, too. Frightening, but amazing.”
“It is.” She smiled. “They all are.”
He made a move with his hand again, but stopped himself before she could discern his intention.
“Thank you,” she said. “There’s no one else I could’ve told this to.”
As he opened his mouth, something hit the door from the outside, and a whispered giggle followed.
Emmeline looked to the door, then back to Theo. He pulled her to her feet as, frantically, she looked for a hiding space. Not under the bed, and there was no cover under either the vanity table or the writing desk.
“Window.” Theo dragged them toward it and, before Emmeline could question if he intended for them to jump out, pulled the heavy brocade curtains to obscure them. Moonlight still shone on them, but the curtain fabric was thick enough their silhouettes weren’t visible from inside the room.
The door opened and someone stumbled in. “Oh, you naughty little minx,” an older male voice said.
A lighter female voice giggled. “What is this room?”
“Don’t know. But it’s got a bed, and that’s good enough.”
Emmeline covered her mouth to stop a snicker. Theo’s eyebrows shot up, but he looked mildly amused.
“Are you sure we won’t be found?” the lady said.
Emmeline bit down on her lip. Theo, pressed close to her in the small space behind the curtain, shook his head as if warning her to stay quiet, although based on his slipping poker face, he was doing his best not to laugh himself.
“Oh, my plump little dove,” the man said, and sounds of smooching and light moaning followed.
A snort escaped her, and Emmeline bit her tongue. Luckily, the amorous couple seemed to be otherwise occupied. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and looked again at Theo, hoping that would help her calm down.
And it did, but in the strangest way.
As if that déjà vu still lingered, another memory shot up, of them pressed against the window, lit by moonlight, in the room overlooking the cliffs, back at the masquerade ball.
It had been the most exciting, beautiful night of her life, in no small way thanks to Theo.
Like a perfect book, that night had everything: a masquerade ball, mystery, intrigue, a sword fight, and …
Romance.
She wasn’t sure what did it: the memory of that night and Theo looking at her with those magical, silvery eyes, or perhaps simply the passage of time that had finally worn away the layers of delusion covering her mind, but at this moment, Emmeline knew.
She was in love with him.
There was no confusion, no swimming feelings of doubt and nervousness and misplaced expectations.
It had always been him. Daniel had been the dream; from the first moment she’d seen him, her fairytale-addled brain told her he looked like a prince, and therefore he had to be the prince of her fairytale. An illusion.
But Theo was real. From the day she found him on the beach, to the first time they talked; from when he told her about his mother’s locket, to the day she dragged him into Lady Scarlet’s world.
He was always there, and she hadn’t realized how big a part of her life he’d become.
In her made-up fantasy, he was the truest part.
And if she ever found a way back to her family, he’d be the only possible thing to hold her back.
Perhaps her powers had plopped her down in this time and place randomly; perhaps her budding feelings for Leon had led her to Theo. In truth, the how and the why didn’t matter, because all the roads of her heart led back to him.
“They’re gone,” Theo said, the words almost incomprehensible to her.
“Hmm?”
He pushed the curtain aside. “We should find the clue and leave as soon as possible.”
Emmeline shook her head as the world shook around her.
She was in love with Theo. She was really, truly, in love. She knew it, as clearly as she knew the sky was blue and Lord Primrose’s horse was named Stormcloud and the second edition of The Heart of the Moors had exactly 321 pages.
But she didn’t know what to do with that information.
“Theo,” she whispered, but his attention was on the writing desk.
“We believe it’s another pouch, yes?” He felt under the desk.
She wanted to scream to the sky, but she also wanted to run to him and hug him and kiss him—
“Found it!” Theo returned with a pouch, retrieved from somewhere around the bedside table. He dropped it into her hand. “Let’s go.”
“Wait.” She tugged on his sleeve. “I …” No, this wasn’t right. The timing was off; love confessions didn’t happen like this.
And besides, she still wasn’t sure if he’d forgiven her.
“You should return to the ball,” he said.
She pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway. Theo followed so close that he brushed against the thin silk of her dress, sending a pleasant shiver all the way down to her toes. She turned to him, holding her breath.
He moved away, gesturing her to continue down the hallway. Downstairs, the foyer was empty, and she paused in front of the open door to the ballroom.
“You’re not coming?” she asked.
Theo briefly glanced towards the ballroom. “No. I should get going.”
She fiddled with the pouch they’d retrieved. “The next clue is in the British Museum,” she shot out.
He flexed his fingers, looking downward, and then said, “Tomorrow?”
She fought back a smile. With how reserved he still was, she didn’t want to appear too eager, even if her heart danced. “I’ll see you there at noon.”
He nodded and left.
The lively atmosphere of the ballroom felt foreign, almost invasive, as she made her way back to where she’d left Louisa and Sebastian.
She touched her cheek. Did she look different on the outside?
She should—a realization like this was bound to do something to her appearance.
But no one looked at her differently, and when her first dance partner came to pick her up for a quadrille, he only made the most casual, polite remarks about her countenance and the swiftness and accuracy of her steps.
And yet, everything had changed. She glanced around the room as she danced and conversed, eyes landing on Lady Cassiopeia, who’d shaken her group of admirers down to three. Emmeline smiled to herself. She didn’t need ten, or five, or three.
There was only one worth fighting for.