“A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You know, the play? It’s a social obligation every year, and it would be tedious except that the Court Players are the only troupe with actual faeries as actors, so it’s marvelous. You’ll be in our box. Say yes. Right now.”
I’d never been to the theater before. The closest I’d come was the Christmas play we performed each year at Brimthorn, so this was massively exciting. “Thank you, yes,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.
“Not at all. This is wonderful. I’m ever so glad they found a lady sorcerer I could be of an age with. When the last one was alive, I was too young.”
That was a baffling thing to say. “The last one was four hundred years ago. We were all a bit too young to be her friend.”
Eliza looked at me as if I were an adorable fool. “No, dear, four years ago. Remember? Gwendolyn Agrippa?”
“What are you talking about?” I felt as if I’d missed an important conversation.
Eliza gasped again. “They never told you? Oh, they’re positive fiends, all of them. Keeping you ignorant of something like that, well.”
“What are you talking about?” I couldn’t help speaking harshly. Eliza rolled her eyes.
“Gwendolyn Agrippa was a sorcerer. Or at least she was going to be. She tested positive for powers at her baptism when she was a baby—don’t look shocked, they baptize girls as well as boys for tradition’s sake—and you can imagine everyone’s reaction when she was found to have an active ability. The first girl in four hundred years! She received a stave, was an Incumbent in her father’s house. Good Lord, did they think you’d never find out? They thought she was the prophesied one, you know. Then she died of that piddling little fever, and they had to find another. So I’m ever so glad you’re here.” She beamed.
I thought I would be sick. Palehook had said I’d much to live up to.
I always thought Miss Agrippa to be among the brightest lights in our society. Some had clearly believed Gwen to be the prophesied one. Which meant that some would search for reasons to despise me. After my recent efforts in the obsidian room…
“You look ill,” Eliza said. “What’s wrong?”
“This is a great deal to take in,” I murmured.
“Don’t tell George I told you. Dear boy, he’s positively the most wonderful brother, but he does tend to think his word is law. Back in a tick,” she said, and bounced off to drag Blackwood out of his conversation with the seamstress.
Watching them, I wondered what Blackwood thought of Gwendolyn Agrippa’s status as the prophesied one.
We were soon back out on the street. Eliza drove off in her family carriage, leaning out the window to wave to me.
“Come next week for tea!” she called.
“She likes you. Eliza doesn’t like most girls,” Blackwood said, sounding rather impressed. He absently twined a pink silk ribbon around his hand. I was certain the pretty seamstress had given it to him.
I smiled wanly at his comment; my mind was preoccupied.
—
“A SURPRISE, MISS,” LILLY SAID WHEN I entered my room that evening. Seven parcels lay on the bed. “Your clothes from Madame Voltiana.”
“That was just hours ago!” Incredulous, I opened a bundle and uncovered a gorgeous wine-red evening gown with gold embroidery. “How is it possible?”
“Madame Voltiana’s special. Works like magic. I suppose it is magic, isn’t it?” Lilly giggled as she laid out my clothes. “These’ll suit you ever so much better. How about the red for tonight, miss? We’ll do your hair lovely again.”
Besides the gowns, there were stockings, a chemise, even knickers trimmed with lace. Everything was pure white; in my old life, such delicate things would have been impossible to keep spotless. There were soft goatskin gloves in fawn and cream. I petted one against my cheek and sighed. Every Christmas Eve, I’d listened to Jane Lawrence whisper about how she longed for kid gloves. Perhaps I could send her a pair this year.
There were flannel and cotton petticoats, and also a black velvet hip sheath, perfect for carrying a stave. Madame Voltiana had thought of everything.
I sat on the bed, unable to truly enjoy the presents. What Eliza had said about Gwendolyn Agrippa kept gnawing at me. And besides that, the images of yesterday’s slums kept repeating themselves as I admired the gowns. Who was I to wear such fine things when so many were suffering? “Lilly, where do you come from?”
“Miss?”
“Where’s your family now?”
The girl’s smile disappeared. “My family’s all gone, miss. Callax the Child Eater carried off my folks and sisters. Gram felt the only safe place for me’d be behind the ward, so she got me a position in this house. I’m grateful, mind. It’s safe here.” She played with the sleeve of a yellow tea dress.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“The past’s the past, miss,” Lilly said, bustling to organize my vanity table. “Shall I help you dress for dinner?”
We chose the wine-red gown, and the color did flatter me, bringing out the darker tones of my skin. Lilly pinned up my hair so elegantly that it appeared almost beautiful. While Lilly arranged the ringlets by the sides of my face, she clucked her tongue. “You’re lovely, miss. Just as he said.”
“Who?”
“Rook. He’s ever so nice.” Lilly flushed a deep pink. “The others don’t like to be around him, but he’s beautiful. Even with the scars.” Her open admiration for Rook surprised me, but why should it? Rook was my dearest friend, and I should be happy she could look past his scars to see the person underneath. I really should.
“Do you like him, Lilly?” My tone was surprisingly clipped; I felt a kind of low anger. I forced myself to stop. What right did I have to be angry at Lilly? None.
“Suppose I do,” she said, lowering her eyes shyly. For some reason, my stomach began to hurt.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you know where Rook is, by any chance?”
—
I FOUND HIM SWEEPING THE STABLES, humming as he worked. The horses blustered, the happy sound they made when all was well. Rook went to Magnus’s mare and rubbed her nose.
“Hello, tricky beauty,” he said, laughing as she nuzzled at his shoulder. “Nothing for you tonight. Can’t have you growing fat, can we?”
“Hello,” I said, feeling strangely shy.
“Nettie?” Within the stalls, horses whinnied and stomped. Clearly I had disturbed them. Rook gazed at me, his mouth open. “You’re a vision.”
I’d never felt more bizarre, standing there in an elegant evening dress while Rook cleaned out the stalls.
“I missed you today,” I said.
“I missed you, too.” He moved to collect a bucket of water.
“Are they treating you well?”
“Compared to Brimthorn, what isn’t good treatment? Mostly I see to the horses, which I like. I’ve taken on a few extra tasks, just to see they get bedded down properly.” He reached out and stroked one of the carriage horses. “I give them hot water and oats at night, instead of hay. Master Agrippa’s pleased with how much better they seem. You are better, aren’t you?” he murmured, laughing as the horse whickered in response. Rook was a genius with animals.
“Don’t let them work you too hard.”
“Work keeps me sane. Always has.” Of course. It was a distraction from the pain.
“The servants are kind?”
“They aren’t rude,” he said. “Lilly’s quite nice.” He lit up. “Funny, too. Knows a million jokes and twenty card games.” The cold, angry feeling flared up again inside me for one instant. I quashed it.
“She’s the sweetest girl.” More silence. Rook’s expression when he looked at me seemed pitched somewhere between admiration and sadness. He picked up the bucket, wincing a little. When we were children, he would carry water up the long hill from the well. To help with his stiff hand, I would grab one end and he the other. Sometimes we’d play games to see who could slosh the least. “May I help?” I asked, desperately grabbing for the handle.
“No, of course not!” He pulled back. “You can’t ruin your new clothes.”
“I can carry a bucket.” The fluttering lace at my elbow tickled me. All right, perhaps this outfit was not entirely appropriate for manual labor.
Rook agreed with my thoughts. “Not as you’re dressed now.”