She shook her head. ‘Forgive me, my lady, but his lordship is wrong. You are a woman. You cannot live a man’s life.’
Helen nodded; she had known Darby would understand. ‘I think he would rather I did. I am sure he would prefer that I were a man. It would make things easier.’
‘May I speak plainly, my lady?’
‘Of course.’
‘I do not think his lordship, like most men, can look beyond his own idea of a woman’s life,’ Darby said carefully. ‘Indeed, I think that everyone is of the belief that a woman’s world is always lesser and smaller than a man’s. Perhaps they are right. It is what the Church teaches us, after all. But you, my lady, cannot abide by that belief. You must live the kind of woman’s life that has never been lived before. As must I.’
Helen frowned. Darby’s plain speaking was dangerously close to heretical. ‘Are you saying we should abandon the Church?’
Darby raised a hand, warding off the suggestion. ‘No, my lady, of course not. But it cannot be denied that you are twice as strong as most men and have been called on to police a demon world. When I bond with you, I will be stronger than most men too, and I will be your last line of defence. Every day we will be facing danger and death, and just by that fact we cannot be bound by the normal rules of womanhood. We cannot defer when we must act. We cannot follow when we must lead. We must make our own rules.’
‘But we cannot just make up our own rules,’ Helen protested. ‘We are not God, or Parliament.’
‘I know what the Reclaimer oath asks of you, my lady,’ Darby said softly. ‘I know what it asks of me. They are duties that do not sit well with the expectations of us as women. Or indeed what is expected of us as mistress and servant.’
Helen gave an unsettled laugh. Her maid’s startling eloquence held a relentless logic and truth. Yet it felt as if Darby had placed another weight upon her shoulders that would make every step on that slippery, muddy path towards right even more treacherous and unsteady.
‘Have you been reading A Vindication of the Rights of Woman?’ she asked lightly, trying to shift the discussion to a less personal direction. ‘Is this a revolution?’
Darby smiled, but she was not diverted. ‘No, my lady. This comes from the fact that I may have to stab you through the hand to bring you back from the Deceiver thrall. And the fact that you may have to kill an offspring, a human, who cannot be reclaimed.’
Yes, Darby was right; it was always going to be personal. Helen looked down at her hands, an image of Mr Lowry’s fleshy veined face forcing its way into her mind.
‘There is no one else in this world that I would trust to bring me back from the thrall.’ She looked up, intent. ‘Do you trust me, Darby?’
‘Absolutely, my lady.’
‘I am glad you are so sure, because I am going to ask you to bond with me as soon as possible. In the next week, if we can.’
‘But his lordship and Mr Quinn said we are not ready.’
‘We must bond, Darby, even without their blessing. I cannot tell you why — I promise I will soon — but it is important that our bond is a fait accompli. Do you think you can learn the ritual from Mr Quinn without him suspecting that we plan to go ahead?’
Darby nodded, although Helen could see the reluctance in her eyes. ‘Mr Quinn says it should be done during a full moon. The next is just under two weeks away, on the twenty-fourth. Should we not wait until then?’
The date that Lowry had nominated.
‘No. We must bond as soon as we have the ritual prepared.’ She stood and threw off the bedcover, taking Darby’s warm hands in her own. ‘I know it is not what is expected, but you said we must make our own rules. Will you do this with me? Are we agreed?’
To Helen’s relief, Darby did not hesitate. ‘Yes. We are agreed.’
A little later, as Helen descended the stairs to breakfast in the morning room, a sharp voice rose from the foyer — ‘You are both going to London?’ — the protest quickly dropping into a vicious whisper. Helen stopped, hand on banister. She should not listen, of course; had she not admonished Delia for eavesdropping? Yet this was clearly about Lord Carlston and Lowry. Shaking off a creep of shame across her shoulders, she concentrated her Reclaimer hearing down the two flights.
‘But why does he insist on going as well?’ Lady Margaret’s lowered voice demanded. ‘He is needed here, to train Lady Helen.’
‘I have argued the point over and over with him, Margaret,’ Mr Hammond said.
Helen tightened her grip on the polished wood. That was a lie; she could hear it in the fast rhythm of Hammond’s heart. He must have persuaded Lord Carlston that London held the key to Lowry’s whereabouts. Thank heavens his sister could not hear the quick beat of his deception.
‘He is adamant that his contacts in London will prove more fruitful than my own,’ Hammond added.
‘I suppose they might,’ Margaret conceded, ‘but you are more than capable of tracking down Lowry. His lordship has said himself that Lady Helen’s training must be our focus, and yet here he is leaving us for at least another two or three days. You have seen yourself how far she is from being ready for any real field experience.’
Helen drew in a sharp breath. Yet could she really argue with that assessment?
‘He has told Quinn to stay here and continue Lady Helen’s combat training,’ Mr Hammond said.
‘What?’ Lady Margaret’s dismay cut through the air. ‘He is going to leave his Terrene behind?’
‘I know.’
Helen heard the floorboards creak: Lady Margaret pacing a few steps.
‘These are not sound decisions, Michael.’ The floorboards creaked again. ‘Do you think …’ Her voice hesitated. ‘Is this the vestige clouding his judgment?’
‘No, I think his judgment is right in this matter. We must find Lowry if we are to find the journal. The Comte has made it his price, or at least the information within it, and he is his lordship’s best hope for a cure.’
Silently, Helen agreed.
Lady Margaret made a low sound of distrust. ‘The Comte … I would rather pin our hope on a snake.’
‘Do you see any other way?’
A few heavy moments passed, then Lady Margaret released a frustrated breath. ‘Only Pike, and I know that is exchanging one snake for another.’ An echo of his lordship’s view. ‘When do you leave?’
‘Within the hour.’
‘Be careful then.’ Helen heard Margaret kiss her brother’s cheek; a soft benediction. ‘Keep him safe.’
Helen crept back up the stairs. She and Mr Hammond were trying to keep Lord Carlston safe. Trying to keep them all safe. Surely such a noble purpose would cancel out the wickedness of so many lies?
Chapter Sixteen