18 Tour of Secrets
Chapter Eighteen
Tour of Secrets
M iss Rosewood pounded her fist against the vanity, rattling the scent bottles and a steaming tray of food a servant had just delivered. “How could you wish such a fate on anyone?”
“Please, Miss Rosewood. He has done terrible things to Mr. Locke and me.”
“I know he is wicked, but—aren’t most men so?”
“No, Miss Rosewood. They’re not.”
“Now who’s being naive?” She crossed her arms. “It’s not over for me yet. I’ve been thinking, if I am indeed ruined, Mr. Ellsworth might be my only hope for a husband.”
“ What? ” Mae gaped.
“We must force him to finish what he started with me.” She clasped her hands together. “After he hears of my dowry, I’m sure my father can convince him to do the right thing.”
“You cannot marry him!” Mae squeezed her eyes shut.
“You’d rather see me ruined? You’d rather see me end up like some old maid? Like you?”
Miss Rosewood pushed back the table, sending a bottle rolling and exploding onto the floor. Lord knew how much it was worth or how old. But somehow, Miss Rosewood didn’t seem to notice. She was so absorbed with her own anguish .
Despite the insult, Mae did her best to stay calm. If she didn’t convince Miss Rosewood otherwise, Ellsworth, had he the chance, probably would marry her, if only to obtain access to Blackthorne Manor.
“That day at the cottage,” Mae said. “Don’t you remember? He wanted to hurt me, most likely kill me. You saw for yourself.”
“But why? You won’t tell me why.”
Mae held her tongue. If she was going to reclaim her fortune, she could not risk anyone knowing about it—particularly the servants that might linger in the hall. “I can’t say.”
“Why not? You always tell me everything.”
“I can’t this time.”
“Then why should I obey you? You’re not my governess. Not anymore,” she added with an angry sneer. The fact had likely seemed a second betrayal.
“I still have concern for your well-being.”
“You never did,” Miss Rosewood snapped. “Don’t you remember what you did? How you…” She shook her head, her sullen expression deepening.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you have to trust me, Miss Rosewood. Please. Someday, I shall tell you all. Then you will understand. I promise.”
“Why are you speaking to me like this? I’m not some child.”
Mae walked over to the vanity, where bits of broken glass were strewn about. Without assistance, she proceeded to pick the bottle up piece by piece. The scent of perfume was strong enough to make her nostrils sting.
“One might never guess.”
“You’re just jealous,” Miss Rosewood said. “Mother always said so. She told me you lost your fortune and as punishment, you were disgraced.”
The sting was instant. Mae’s hand tensed, squeezing the glass in her hand. Wincing, she threw the pieces away and moved for the door.
“You have airs like you’re something more, but you’re not,” Miss Rosewood continued. “You’re nothing. You’re no better than an adulteress, a murderess!”
Mae paused. It would be all too easy to dwell on that day in the cellar again. To bring forth the awful images her imagination alone had conjured. But rather than let the painful truth claim and consume her, she continued down the corridor, her footfalls loud and sharp. One day, Miss Rosewood would understand. One day, she would forgive her just as Mae hoped to forgive herself.
Seeking calmness, Mae paced up and down the hallways, trying to think, searching for a plan that might help Locke escape. But her mind was too troubled to focus and in the vast array of hallways, she quickly lost her way. If only Locke were near. If only they might cross paths again.
Where might he be? Busy planning his next voyage, his next fantastic adventure?
Mae picked up her pace. There wasn’t time to hope for chance encounters. Like Miss Rosewood, she would soon be off in her own carriage, and Locke just another part of the past she was supposed to forget.
Hearing voices, she peered into a doorway. Two servants stilled in their chatter. “Yes, miss?”
“Mr. Locke. Do you know where he might be?”
“Likely the library. Down the stairs and first door on the left.”
When Mae reached the room, she was hesitant to enter. She hated that this might be their last moment alone.
As easily as she had fallen for him, she could stop loving him, right? But she knew nothing about matters of love. Her mother had spoken about it only once, her accent growing thick, same as it had when she’d told Mae stories of home. She had said love was something one must have faith in. “Doubt it once and you stand to ruin it forever. Doubt can fester,” she had said, “till it grows into a monster strong enough to conquer anyone.”
The advice seemed telling now. Knowing her husband’s profession, had Tala ever doubted him? If only Mae could apply that advice. If only it could change Locke’s mind and help her keep him.
Stepping closer, she peered inside. The room was tall, like all the others. It must have held hundreds of books, with some accessible only by ladders. Tasteful landscape paintings broke up the monotony. But it was the smell she really appreciated. The musk of books and the sharp smell of varnish filled her with the familiarity of her own library. When it had been her own, that was.
Nestled in the crook of an armchair, Locke was deeply immersed in reading.
“Who’s there?” He turned around and took to his feet. She hadn’t made a single noise and still, he’d sensed her. “ Mae. Is everything all right?”
She nodded, wondering what bewilderment her face had betrayed. “You couldn’t sleep?”
“Not much, no.” He rushed close. “Your hand. What’s happened to it?”
“Oh.” She lifted up her palm, now pooling with blood. In her eagerness to find him, she hadn’t noticed. “I dropped a glass. It’s nothing.”
“Here.” Locke whipped a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over the wound. From his neck, he lifted free the serum.
“Please don’t bother.” Mae tried to resist. “Just leave it be.”
“And risk infection?”
“It’s such a minor wound. I won’t have you wasting it. Not when you have so many voyages ahead.” Mae pulled back, surprised when he held her grip.
“Be still. It will only take a drop. ”
“You’re sure?”
“They likely have more. Either way, I’ve no use of it.”
“But think of the danger you’ll face.” Mae felt a tingle as the serum hit her wound. Slowly, the skin sealed back together, leaving mere remnants of blood. Just like magic—only it was , indeed, magic. A baffling sort of magic that made her head spin every time she witnessed it.
In this new life, she could only imagine what other mystical things Locke might discover. Just like it had in his past, traveling would offer adventure, but it could never outweigh the violence.
“You won’t get yourself killed, will you?” She remembered his promise at the stream.
He didn’t reply. With a gentle hand, he worked to wipe away the rest of the blood.
“You could write me, you know. Couldn’t we find some place to meet now and then? I’d travel anywhere.”
“It couldn’t last.” Locke dropped her healed hand.
“Why not?” Maybe she was being na?ve, but in her heart, what they had was strong enough. Wasn’t it?
“They have rules here.”
“Yes, rules and dictates—which you hate.”
“Enough not to want them for you.”
Mae shook her head, grasping for another argument.
“Want to know what I’m reading?”
Mae was silent.
“Some rather boring piece on botany by none other than Pierce.” He smirked, motioning her to a tall stack of books. “I’ve finally learned his full name. Alexander Pierce. He’s written of all these on different plant species and their properties. Can you believe it? A bit of an obsession, don’t you think?”
“Stop it. I don’t care a whit for books at the moment,” she snapped. He wanted to distract her. But how could she oblige? Her upcoming departure occupied all her thoughts. So much needed to be said. The unspoken words hung heavily in the air, like a poisonous fog. She could not ignore how heavily it affected her, how it made any effort to breathe difficult.
“What do I do? Where do I go?” Once she claimed her fortune, she would have more money than she could want, but without him, her future seemed dismal.
“Any place you desire.”
“I suppose I should buy a home someplace far away. Italy, maybe.” She looked at the flower designs that decorated the rug. “Is it as wonderful as I’ve read?”
“It is.” Locke dropped his book onto the armchair with a thud . “What about your family estate? Will you not try to purchase it from the Rosewoods?”
The question was clearly a test. So she held him in suspense, staying silent as she paced up and down the shelves. Her fingers graced the spines. All the while, she could feel him following, watching her every step. “Very well, you were right. I don’t have a future there, only a past.”
“What happened in the cellar…” Locke’s tone dropped. “What you did…you can’t let it possess you, either. One day, I promise you, you’ll learn to forgive yourself.”
Mae swept around. He had gotten so close, she nearly bumped into him.
“I hope you’re right,” she said. Perhaps acceptance was the best she could hope for.
“And you? Have you forgiven yourself?” She was thinking about that woman who was being held captive, the one innocent who seemed to trouble him most of all.
“I’ve made amends and I’ll keep making amends,” he said, as though it were perfectly routine. As though it were nothing more than a promise to attend Sunday church. Perhaps those past mistakes were the least of his worries. Soon, there would be new regrets to trouble him.
When he reached out, it took her a moment to realize he was handing her something. A book.
“I found it here,” he said. “One of my favorites. And since your journey is sure to be a long one…”
Her heart sank. He had settled on his decision. That was clear enough.
“You don’t think they’d mind, do you?” Mae grasped it in her hand. Her eyes were fixed on the cover, but she saw nothing. She didn’t even read the title.
“Please. Seems Pierce will do almost anything to get in your good graces. Sometimes, I wonder…”
“Wonder what?”
Locke looked around before dropping his voice to an even softer whisper. “We have to make sure you don’t learn too much.”
“Is that why you thought the tour inappropriate?”
“I wasn’t just being rude, if that’s what you’re implying.” Locke plopped himself onto the settee. He stared into the barren grate of the fireplace. “We should ring for a fire, hmm?”
“Then what is it?” Mae took the armchair beside him. “Why was it inappropriate?”
For a long moment, Locke didn’t answer.
“Locke, tell me. I beg you.”
“Fine. Before the day is out, I think Pierce is going to do everything in his power to convince you to join his organization. Perhaps their numbers are declining and since you already know…”
Why couldn’t he just agree? They’d have each other. Nothing else would matter.
“Don’t worry.” Locke reached for her hand again, wiping away a smear of blood he had missed. His finger traced the place where the wound had been, no longer visible. “You trust me, don’t you? ”
“Yes,” she whispered, though her heart screamed it louder.
He shot her a ghost of a smile. “Good.”
“It’s just…you could get hurt. Perhaps… Why not agree? Would it be so terrible?”
“Are you determined to torment me?”
“It doesn’t have to be like this.” She studied his features with careful precision, fearful of the day she would no longer know them. Years from now, would he forget her entirely? Somehow, she knew he would not. She had seen it. The feeling in his eyes hadn’t been fleeting.
“I know men like Pierce.” Locke’s coldness returned. “He’s got everything: power, money, connections. But that doesn’t satisfy him. All that’s left to attain is what he can’t have, what’s not right to have.”
“Could his group really be so terrible?”
“To get this sort of power and money requires the darkest deeds,” he said. “Look at how they brought us here, forced against our will… You mustn’t let him persuade you.”
Mae swallowed. She knew that. But at the same time, she was willing to give herself to any future if it meant being with him.
A thought froze her in place. There could, after all, be far worse fates in the world. Loneliness among others.
“What happens if I learn too much?” Mae had to ask. “What will he do then? And what if that is a fate far worse than joining?”
“You mustn’t think like that. For now, we stand our ground.”
“I’d much rather us leave. Together.”
“As would I.”
“Then how can you stay?” She could not help herself. “How can you know Pierce’s telling the truth? What if—”
A sudden knocking silenced her.
Pierce stepped in, looking regal in his finely tailored waistcoat.
“Forgive the intrusion.”
How much had he heard? Mae knew Locke wondered too because in that moment, he stepped closer, his stance firm. She imagined him like this at sea holding strong against the massive waves. Never giving up.
“Can I interest the two of you in that tour?” Pierce smiled warmly.
Mae glanced at Locke. It didn’t seem they had much choice.
*
Within the maze of the building, they passed a grand ballroom, multiple libraries, and whole galleries of paintings and sculptures. There seemed nothing secretive or sinister about it. If it was anything, the tour was long and mostly boring. Mae could only stand the hundreds of ancient relics for so long before they lost their intrigue. For her, that had happened rooms ago.
Pierce pulled ahead. “I’ve one last surprise.”
Mae tried not to show her relief, though Locke heaved out a well-deserved “Good riddance.” Judging by his glare, Pierce was unaccustomed to such insolence.
He stopped in a cold hall lit by a wall sconce and held out his hand. After glancing at Locke, Mae decided to humor him, not expecting him so come so close.
“No one outside our members has come this far. But you, my dear, are a worthy first.”
Mae gulped, though it wasn’t the words that made her heart flutter—it was the tone and hidden meaning behind each syllable. He spoke and heeded her every reaction, as if she were something more than a disgraced governess, as if the world weighed on her good opinion.
She had to know. “Surely, you don’t esteem me so highly?”
“But I do,” he said. “And for good reason.”
So much meaning seemed to swim in his eyes, Mae wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Are you certain about this?” Without falter, Locke was at her side again. He had made a point to keep close. He didn’t seem to care that Pierce had noticed.
Mae wasn’t half so concerned. Rather, her curiosity was growing with each second. She was eager to see the areas privileged only to a few.
Locke prodded her. “Mae.”
“One last room,” she said.
Down a set of stairs, they seemed to spiral into oblivion. At the bottom, the hall was thick with moisture but full of light. A series of medieval-style torches intensely illuminated an arched hall that seemed to stretch for miles.
As they continued down, something wicked and unworldly crackled in the air. The place had an invisible yet powerful aura all its own. But from what? What type of mysteries lingered in these bricks?
Pierce opened a door Mae hadn’t noticed. No sound indicated hinges or the twist of a doorknob. But with a breath of warmer air, the opening beckoned.
At first, there was only blackness, then with a fast-building intensity, the darkness was no more. Before her, a tangle of vines ran along stone walls, bursts of red scattered amongst them. Her eyes strained against the glare, but once her vision had adjusted, individual petals coalesced into beautiful, blooming roses. Overhead hung dozens of tilted mirrors, their purpose obvious yet impossible. Were they really reflecting light from so high above? The years it must have taken to construct! The amount of funds necessary… It all seemed quite impossible. But why? Mae wondered. Why have it so hidden away?
“This place…” Mae struggled to find the words. She simply had to know more.
“Take this.” Pierce plucked a rose from the wall and handed it to her.
Naturally, she buried her nose in it and breathed in deeply. It didn’t smell like a typical rose, full of crisp sweetness. It smelled of so much more. She breathed in the cool soil, the freshness of a summer breeze, the heat of the sun beating on her face. Sensations she didn’t think had scent, yet that was the only way to make sense of it. What she held in her hand was no typical rose.
“It’s beautiful.” She exhaled, her body going weightless. Her head was swimming and she felt capable of bursting into a thousand pieces. Steadying herself, she tried to gauge Locke’s reaction. But he had none. He looked about the makeshift greenhouse, his lips tightly closed to a thin line.
“What’s it for?” Mae asked. “What is the purpose of all this?”
“It’s one of our best abilities as of yet—”
Locke stepped between them. “This tour is over.”
He took her hand and led her away.
“I haven’t even shown her the crystals!” Pierce shouted after them.
In the hall, Mae yanked her arm back, defiant. “I can handle myself.”
He drew in a deep breath and released it. “You shouldn’t have asked for an explanation. Don’t you get it? Everything here, especially knowledge, comes at a price.”
“She is already one of us.” Pierce’s voice followed. “What else is left for her? She has nothing to go back to. You made sure of that.”
“I made sure everything was set to rights. She has her inheritance now.”
“So she has money.” Pierce had found that mocking tone again. “Do you think that’s all she’s meant for in this world? A life of luxury? She has another purpose, truth be told, and that is here. With us.”
“We agreed.” Locke stood inches from Pierce now, as if ready to land a blow. Mae took a breath to calm her heart, but there seemed no hope of slowing it.
“I am no one of consequence, I assure you,” she said. “You don’t want me.”
“Have you forgotten your own name?” Pierce asked her .
“There is no pride in it.”
“Ah, but when you join us—”
“Sir.” Mae threw away the rose. “I’m afraid I must refuse.”
There was something nefarious about the group she could no longer deny. Something Locke had seen all along. He was right. She had just been curious was all. But she could never accept their invitation in order to stay with Locke.
“You have such strength in your heart and quickness in your mind.” He threw his arms out wide. “The murder of your brother—”
“Please stop.” Mae felt herself pale at the words. She could endure the memories no longer.
“Never fear the truth.”
“Truth or not, what difference is there? Everyone thinks his death was a suicide. That will never change.”
“With us, you can build your family’s legacy anew. That sapphire, the serum—they are but a taste of the discoveries we’ve made—a whole world that is just beginning to open up before you.”
“You’ve shown me nothing but a pretty garden.”
“It is far more than that, Miss Blackthorne. Of course, if you wish I show you—”
“Our agreement still stands,” Locke barked.
“Ah, Locke wisely knows the cost of such a secret.”
“This is all for naught. She won’t—”
“Let her decide!”
“Why me?” Mae sounded meek amidst their shouting.
“In the years ahead, I can see—”
“No.” Mae stopped his lies. “You’re desperate.” Locke had been right again. “You need me to increase your numbers. But no one has time to be part of this foolishness anymore, do they?”
“You know not what you speak.” Pierce’s low voice was injured.
At first, it seemed he might give up the fight when all at once, he raced toward her. But instead of reaching her, he slammed into the square of Locke’s shoulders. “You don’t know what we are offering you. Few will ever know the privilege!”
“Enough.” Locke shoved him backward into the glossy, brick wall. In the tight tunnel, his words echoed over and over.
But Pierce would not give up, looking past Locke to Mae only. “You are loyal to Locke, I understand.” He straightened his cravat. “But why? Did he not tell you of his plans? They weren’t going to let you off unharmed. Far from it.”
“ Pierce. ”
He didn’t listen. “Ellsworth would never agree to give you a third of the fortune—not without the promise of your death first. We are speaking of murder now, Miss Blackthorne. Your very own.”
Though she had been well-aware, hearing it spoken aloud hurt all the same. She knew what her father had done. The anger and sense of revenge that had filled Locke before he’d met her. What if he had been unable to stop Ellsworth? He’d been outnumbered, after all.
“I lied to Ellsworth.” Locke’s face reddened, his hand still on Pierce’s chest. “I never intended… I never would have let it come to that.”
“If it had been William instead of me…would you have even hesitated?”
Locke didn’t answer.
“You shouldn’t trust me. How could you?” Pierce continued, more sure of himself. “But perhaps, if I may be so bold, you cannot trust Locke, either.”
Mae braced herself. The tension seemed to burst all around her, fogging her head with pain. Though she wanted to deny his claim, breathing, much less speaking, seemed impossible.
She wasn’t surprised when Locke took Pierce by his white collar. Violence had seemed imminent from the start. Now that Locke had Pierce by the neck, he held strong.
“Release me.” Pierce struggled to free himself, though his voice was oddly calm. “For both our sakes.”
When Locke refused, Pierce shouted a command. In response, thunderous steps rattled the lanterns. Guards from both directions surrounded them in moments, pistols drawn.
“How about now?” Pierce asked, a smile creeping over his face.
The cocking of their weapons echoed for a few seconds.
Locke grunted, then with one more shove, relaxed his grip. He eyed his opponents. One guard, a young man with a closely-trimmed beard, strode toward him. His aim shook, unsteady.
“Sir?”
Pierce gave a flick of the wrist and with a soft sigh of relief, the guard and the rest of the men stepped back, sheathing their weapons.
Mae could endure no more. She would not wait for the fighting to commence yet again. “You have my answer.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She just needed to get away. Following the path from which they’d come, she took the steps and went down the hall until she had reached something familiar. Against the hard, wooden banister, she caught her breath. As hard as she tried to, she struggled to wipe away the images of a murderous Locke. In one image, he was choking Pierce. In another, he was stabbing William.
That speech was part of Pierce’s plans to discredit Locke , she told herself. Pierce was after her, just like Locke had said. But she could not let him succeed.
At the sound of footsteps, she twisted around, feeling the coolness of the stone wall behind her. It was Locke.
“We must speak.” His eyes pleaded. “In private.”