I hesitated again, unsure whether or not to include Henry in my next line.
I found Caitria’s altar at All Hallows and easily crossed over. I dare say I’ve never drunk so much in my entire life! You worked a miracle on my behalf to have located the passageway on such short notice. This note cannot fully express my gratitude for what you’ve done, nor the extent of my joy to be back amongst my own kind.
Pleased with these first lines, I then proceeded with the less pleasant part.
Julian, last night I was an unwitting witness to a heinous act that may very well involve the leath’dhia. It is of the utmost importance that we speak, and I implore you to call on me without delay.
Brigid Buadach,
Selah
I was busy digging through my writing box in search of wax and seal when the door opened. Cate came into the room, her face a welcome sight as she crossed to where I sat.
“Good morning,” she said pleasantly, placing a hand on my forehead. “How are you feeling? Hopefully your headache is gone. Fannie told me you requested a pot of willow bark tea last night.”
“I’m much better, thank you.”
She removed her hand from my head and picked up my wrist next. A crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Hmmm.”
“Is anything amiss?”
“No, no, your pulse is fine.” The crease vanished. “How would you like to go out this morning? I’ve errands to run and thought it a good time to bring the knife to the metal smith.”
Nora hadn’t been gone an hour before I grew bored with the idea of staying at home. By no means as exciting as St. Paul’s Cathedral and a picnic, I could think of worse ways to spend an hour or two than errands with Cate.
“I would love to go.”
Cate gave me a smile. “Grab you cloak, the carriage is waiting.”
I shot a furtive look at the letter for Julian. To place it unsealed into the hands of a messenger, or even a house servant, would be asking for trouble. I might as well just throw the windows open and shout out every word for all to hear, the end result would be the same. Anxious as I was to speak with Julian about the little wretch, our meeting would have to wait until I returned later today. Pushing the letter aside, I retrieved my cloak from the armoire and followed Cate from the room.
We went first to the furniture curator where Cate approved a chaise lounge for her bedroom. An elegant mix of mahogany and burnt amber velvet, the piece was certainly beautiful, but my interest didn’t really pick up until our next stop at the dressmaker’s shop. Just that morning, the proprietor had received several new patterns from Paris and sent word to Cate, who happened to be a good friend and her favorite client. As we approached the entry, a young boy of about eight years jumped up from a nearby stool to open the door for us.
“Good day, Johnny,” Cate said. “You look smart in your new uniform.”
The boy’s face lit up with a smile. “Thank ye, milady. Mrs. Clifford is waiting for ye inside.”
Cate bent over and spoke to Johnny in a low, conspiratorial tone. “Has she shown the patterns to anyone else this morning?”
The boy looked around, then answered in a similar tone. “No, milady, some other ladies came by, but she kept them well hidden. Ye be the first to see them.”
“You do me a great service, Johnny.” Cate ruffled the boy’s scruffy brown hair before we continued into the shop.
Once inside, my first impression was that we had walked into a small crowd of fashionably dressed shoppers. Most of these ladies, I soon realized, were not the flesh and blood variety, but had been carved from wood, their jointed arms posed to reflect real life movements. Along two walls, shelves were stacked with bolts of colorful silks and velvets. Another wall was lined with lighter linens for ladies’ underclothing while the final wall displayed buttons, trims and ribbons. A large table stood near the rear of the shop, its broad expanse covered with what looked to be pattern books.
A well-rounded woman stood behind the counter, cutting a length of pink ribbon for what I now saw to be the only other living customer. “Good day, Lady Dinley,” the woman said in greeting. “Let me fetch Liza and I’ll be right with you.”
“No rush, Mrs. Clifford,” Cate replied. “I always enjoy some time to look around.”
Mrs. Clifford rolled up the pink ribbon before disappearing through a door. She reemerged seconds later with a girl of about ten years in her wake. Liza took over with the ribbons while Mrs. Clifford came over to where we stood, admiring a sleeve design on one of the mannequins.
“Thank heavens you’re here,” Mrs. Clifford said. “Word has started to spread that new patterns arrived from the Continent. I’ve already had to send four ladies away this morning, and not ten minutes ago a note came from the queen, summoning me to Kensington at two sharp. Now that’s one woman I’d not have the nerve to defy, even for you, Cate.”