Time to heal, p.8
Time to Heal, page 8
“I think not,” he rumbled. “Let the lady speak.”
“As I was saying,” Emmeline went on, shooting the big Kindred a grateful look. “If I could just speak to my mother, Lady Hastings, I’m certain I could clear all this up.”
“Lady Hastings is out for afternoon calls and you are not welcome in this house,” the Tick-Tock butler proclaimed.
“Well, let me see my baby then.” Emmeline was beginning to feel desperate. “Have the wet nurse bring him out—I need to make certain he’s all right. I won’t even come in the house—please, just let me see him!”
“Negative,” the Tick-Tock butler declared. “You are not to be allowed contact with the ward of Lord and Lady Hastings.”
“What—never?” Emmeline demanded. From somewhere inside the house she thought she could hear a thin, unhappy wailing. Her heart contracted in her chest and her breasts ached at the sound, though she had no milk to give.
My baby—Jamie needs me!
But the shiny brass butler was still standing in the doorway, blocking her entrance as immovable as a boulder.
“I am told this is a permanent order which cannot be revoked,” it said in its high, tinny voice. “You should go now—you will not be allowed to see the child.”
Emmeline’s outer façade of calm broke.
“He’s my baby!” she exclaimed, tears of rage rising to her eyes. “I never would have brought him here if I had known he would be taken from me permanently. I’m his mother—let me see him!”
“Negative,” the butler said again and she knew there would be no reasoning with it. It was made of metal and completely soulless—she could stand here and argue with it all day and it wouldn’t move an inch until her mother got home and had a couple of footmen throw her off the estate.
“I do not think this thing intends to let you in,” Skahr remarked from behind her.
Emmeline realized she had forgotten all about the big Kindred in her distress. Rounding on him, she blinked tears out of her eyes and glared up at him.
“Then do something!” she demanded. “You told me you would help me get in to see my son—so help me!”
Skahr nodded thoughtfully.
“As you wish,” he rumbled.
In one swift move, he let go of the door he had been holding open and seized the brass butler by its shiny shoulders instead.
Emmeline wondered if he intended to wrestle with it. She had heard that the new Tick-Tock servants were immensely strong due to their solid brass construction. And also immensely heavy for the same reason.
But though the butler must have weighed almost half a ton, Skahr simply picked it up by the shoulders and set it to one side. Then he made a welcoming gesture to Emmeline with one arm towards the now-open doorway.
“Enter,” he said simply.
Behind him, the Tick-Tock butler was going crazy, its arms moving in jerky, up and down arcs and its head twisting from side to side.
“Negative, negative!” it kept saying. “Direct orders have been circumvented! Negative!”
Emmeline might have been frightened of the thrashing metal servant but Skahr was shielding her from it with his big body. So she felt safe enough to walk quickly past it and into Hastings Hall, in search of her son.
She knew exactly where the nursery was, of course, but even if she had not, she could have followed the sound of Jamie’s thin, unhappy cries. She was nearly running when she got to door and twisted the knob to open it.
The nursery had been freshly papered in the latest shade of Arsenic Green—the brilliant wallpaper was as bright as spilled emeralds in the sunlight coming from the window.
But it wasn’t the new nursery décor which drew Emmeline’s gaze.
Jamie was lying on his side in a cradle, wailing and Nurse Higgins, who had come so highly recommended—at least according to Emmeline’s mother—was sitting in a chair beside him. She was rocking the cradle briskly with one foot while she knitted something which might have been a tiny jumper.
“Just hush your fussing,” she was saying sharply. “You know I’ll not pamper you every minute of the day by holding you all the time. You get held when you get fed and that’s enough.”
Emmeline’s heart raged at her words.
“Jamie needs to be held!” she exclaimed. “He needs to be loved! How can you just let him lie there and cry, you heartless creature?”
Nurse Higgins looked up with a jerk of her head and her mouth formed an almost comical O of surprise.
“What…what are you doing here?” she finally managed to get out. “Who let you in? The new Tick-Tock has express orders to keep you out.”
“I do not think it will be taking orders anymore.”
Emmeline turned and saw Skahr standing behind her again. He was holding something in his hands. He held it up for her to see and she recognized the molded brass head of the mechanical butler. Its glowing yellow eyes were dark and there were wires like snakes coming out of its neck, some still dribbling bright sparks.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You beheaded it!”
“It was becoming troublesome,” Skahr rumbled. He nodded to the cradle. “Is that your son?”
“Yes—this is Jamie.”
Emmeline went to pick him up but Nurse Higgins was there—her sour, thin face twisted into a look of defiance.
“No you don’t, missy!” she exclaimed. “I have my orders and all of them include keeping you away from Lady Hastings’ ward.”
“He’s not just her ward, he’s my son,” Emmeline said fiercely. She nodded at the heavy brass head Skahr was still holding in his hands. “So if you don’t want to end up like him, you’ll stand aside and let me hold Jamie.”
The wet nurse’s gaze flickered up to the Tick-Tock’s head and she seemed to register what it was for the first time. Her squinty mud-brown eyes widened in shock and she took a step to the side, clearing the way for Emmeline.
With a little cry of pure relief, Emmeline reached down and swooped her baby up into her arms.
“Oh, Jamie, Jamie,” she whispered in his tiny pink shell of an ear, holding him close and breathing in his sweet, baby scent. “It’s all right, my wee little man—everything is all right. Mama is here. Yes she is, my darling, yes she is.”
Little by little, Jamie ceased crying. His big green eyes looked up into Emmeline’s own, as though he was trying to focus on her. Then he gave a weak, questioning coo.
“Yes, it’s me—it’s really me,” Emmeline told him. Cuddling him close to her breast, she felt as though her heart might burst with all the love flowing out of her. “Oh Jamie, Jamie,” she whispered through her tears. “I’m so sorry I left you here. I love you so much—so very, very much! I’ll never leave you again, I promise!”
But when she had finished kissing and cuddling him, she took a closer look at her son and what she saw made her feel sick with worry.
“He’s so pale and thin!” she exclaimed, looking at Nurse Higgins accusingly. “And so weak he can barely move! Haven’t you been feeding him?”
“It isn’t my fault he doesn’t thrive!” the skinny nurse exclaimed defensively. “I feed him on a regular schedule—he just doesn’t suckle properly.”
“Or maybe your milk is too thin to sustain him,” Skahr rumbled, looking her over critically. “In my world, we have the belief that a female must have full curves to make the rich, nutritious milk a baby needs to grow. Like her,” he remarked, nodding at Emmeline whose full figure was flattered by her dove gray afternoon dress.
Nurse Higgins bristled.
“I’ll have you know, I have nursed nine babies before young James there and fully five of them lived and are living still!”
Skahr frowned. “Five out of nine? I would not boast of such a poor record if I were you.”
“It’s a very good record, considering how few babies survive infancy!” Nurse Higgins exclaimed. “And it’s to be expected that young James is sickly—if the rumors I have heard from the other servants are true, he was born in a whorehouse.”
Skahr was suddenly right in front of her, though Emmeline had barely seen him cross the room. He was frighteningly fast for such a big man, she thought.
“Are you calling Emmeline a whore?” he growled, glaring down at Nurse Higgins as he squeezed the severed head of the brass butler between his massive hands. “Do you dare to say such things about my lady right in front of me?”
“I…I…” Nurse Higgins licked suddenly trembling lips and took a wary step back. “I am not the one saying it,” she got out at last. “It is the other servants—they claim she lives in a house on Graves Street. And everyone knows there’s only one kind of business down there!”
“You dare—” Skahr began, taking another step towards her.
“Skahr, don’t,” Emmeline said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter what she says.”
Though in her heart, she knew it did. She had given her mother the false impression that she had found a position as a lady’s maid with a family on the outskirts of town. But if the servants had somehow found out the truth—that she was living and working in a bordello on Graves Street—her mother wouldn’t be long in hearing it too. And once she found out what Emmeline really did for a living, she would never allow her to see Jamie again.
“We must take him with us,” she told Skahr, cuddling her son closer. He made a soft noise of protest and she looked down at him worriedly. “But he looks so weak.”
The big Kindred came and looked over Emmeline’s shoulder, studying Jamie, who was inclined to be listless and quiet, now that she was holding him again. His lips had a faintly bluish tinge, Emmeline thought, and his breathing was light and quick. He bore almost no resemblance to the healthy, rosy baby she had reluctantly turned over to her mother weeks ago.
“He looks so ill,” Emmeline whispered, staring down at the tiny face. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, my poor baby!”
“Let me see if I can find what ails him.”
Skahr frowned and unbuttoned his collar. From around the thick column of his throat, he brought out a leather thong with a long, greenish-yellow crystal tied to it. As Emmeline watched, he waved the crystal over the limp baby and its color flickered from yellow-green to a pallid bluish-gray, almost the same color as Jamie’s lips. Then it flashed suddenly—a bright green.
The big Kindred frowned.
“It is as I feared—he has been poisoned.”
“Poisoned!” Emmeline and Nurse Higgins exclaimed at the same time.
“Whatever do you mean?” the nurse went on. “If you are implying that I would—”
But Skahr ignored her. Holding the glowing crystal in one hand, he began to stalk around the room, waving it before him as though searching for something. When he got to the new Arsenic Green wallpaper, the crystal flashed a sudden, brilliant green again, just as it had when he waved it over Jamie.
“This.” He turned to Emmeline, frowning. “This wall covering is the source of the poison.”
“How ridiculous!” Nurse Higgins snored derisively. “How can you blame the baby’s failure to thrive on wallpaper?”
“Wallpaper that wasn’t here when I was a child,” Emmeline said quickly.
Indeed, she had recently read some articles in the New Times that claimed the popular shade of green, which was popping up everywhere in the city from wallpaper to fabric for drapes and dresses, was detrimental to health. Deadly Fashion! had been the blaring headline which had caught her eye.
The article claimed that it was the arsenic, which was used to achieve such a brilliant emerald shade, which was to blame for the many deaths and illnesses attributed to the popular color. Others, however, called the report “hysterical fear mongering” and there didn’t seem to be a complete consensus yet as to who was right.
But looking at her weak and listless baby, Emmeline was dreadfully afraid that the article was true. She knew that many women took arsenic tablets to make their skin white and poor Jamie was as chalky and pale as a ghost. His wide green eyes—which were very like Torrington’s had been—looked too big in his thin little face. He ought to have been rosy and plump, instead he looked almost malnourished.
“I knew something was wrong with him,” she whispered, feeling a stab of guilt. “I knew he didn’t look right the last time they let me see him. I should have taken him away with me then! Oh, why did I not take him?”
“Because he is not yours to take,” snapped Nurse Higgins. “He is the ward of Lord and Lady Hastings.”
Skahr stepped closer to her and the nurse flinched back, as though she feared he might strike her for her outburst. But he only waved the crystal over her as well. When it flashed green, he nodded as though it had confirmed something he had been thinking.
“Your milk is infected with the poison as well,” he told her. “You must not nurse any more children until you get the corruption out of your system.”
Emmeline felt sick.
“To think that I gave him up and let my own milk run dry to let him be poisoned by her,” she whispered, glaring at the nurse fiercely. “You shall never touch my baby again, you horrid woman!”
“Come—we must take him from this room,” Skahr ordered. “No,” he added, when Emmeline started to pack a few things for the baby. “Take nothing from here. Everything in this room—possibly everything in this house—has been touched by the poison which breathes from the green paper on the walls. We must get your son away from here and not bring anything with us that might hurt him further.”
Nurse Higgins tried to protest again but Emmeline ignored her. And when the nurse made as if to stop her from taking Jamie, the big Kindred stepped between them and glared down at her silently.
He did not say a word—he did not have to. The forbidding look on his scarred face was enough. The wet nurse faltered and then fell back, giving no more protest as Emmeline swept out of the poisoned nursery, taking her baby with her.
Eight
Jamie was quiet on the carriage ride all the way back to Mother Griffith’s—too quiet, Emmeline thought worriedly. She wished for the thousandth time that she had not let her milk dry up—not that Jamie showed much inclination to want to nurse. He simply lay in her arms, looking pale and listless, without even the energy to cry, now that he was finally back in his mother’s arms.
Once they alighted from the cab and went into the house, Nick met them at the front door.
“Oh, Missus Emmeline!” he exclaimed, when he saw what she held in her arms. “Went to fetch the little one back again, did you?”
“I did. He will stay with me now.” Emmeline gave him a little smile. Nick was about fourteen with tousled brown hair and earnest brown eyes. He was Mother Griffith’s boy-of-all-work and he more than earned his keep fetching and carrying, running errands, making up fires, and cleaning up rooms as they were used.
The next person they saw was not nearly so welcome, however.
“What’s that? You brought back the squalling brat?” Rose sneered, as she descended the staircase and saw Jamie in Emmeline’s arms. “I’ll complain to Mother Griffith, I will,” she went on, not giving Emmeline a chance to answer. “We can’t work with a crying baby in the house! It puts the Jonnies right off, it does!”
“Hush now, Rose.” It was Mother Griffith herself, belting a man’s crimson satin smoking jacket around her full figure as she stepped into the waiting area. She looked at Emmeline. “I wondered how long it would take you to bring him back. I knew you couldn’t be happy without him, my dear.”
“I have brought him but…but he is sick, Mother Griffith. Skahr here says he has been poisoned.” Emmeline nodded up at the big Kindred who was walking silently by her side.
Mother Griffith took Skahr in without a flicker of surprise. But of course, working in her chosen field, it took much to surprise her.
“Come,” she said, nodding her head at Emmeline. “Back to my rooms. Let’s see what we can do.”
Emmeline followed her employer and Skahr followed her, though he had not been expressly included in the invitation. They went through the drawing room and into the back of the house where Mother Griffith kept her private apartments. She brought no clients here and kept the place tidy herself, not even allowing the maids in, so jealous was she of her private space. Yet now she invited Emmeline back without a word and got her seated on a respectable-looking dark horsehair sofa in her private parlor. Skahr settled himself on one side of her and Mother Griffith took the other.
“Let me see the little fellow,” Mother Griffith said, holding out her hands.
Though Emmeline was reluctant to let go of him ever again, she passed Jamie over to the older woman. Mother Griffith wasn’t a doctor but she was known to be good with a poultice or a cold pack and she often brewed draughts which were good for stomach troubles and headaches.
Jamie set up a thin wailing again when he left his mother’s arms but Mother Griffith didn’t take offense.
“There, there, little man,” she murmured softly. “I know you would much rather have your mother than me, but let me just have a look at you.”
As she studied the baby, her face grew grave. Finally, she looked up at Emmeline.
“What have they been doing to him at your mother’s fancy house? He is so altered from the way he looked before you gave him up to her that he scarcely seems the same child!”
“Skahr here thinks it is poison,” Emmeline said again. “He is a Kindred and a friend of my cousin Richard,” she added, by way of introduction.
“I see.” Mother Griffith nodded. “And is he a physician too?”
“I am not,” Skahr answered for himself. “But my mentor is a Shaman and a healer.” He looked at Emmeline. “Will you permit me to try something? I do not know if it will help—do not know if my healing magic will work in your world. But it cannot hurt to try.”
“Healing magic?” Emmeline looked at him doubtfully. Her first impulse was to refuse him, but then she remembered the way he had detected the poison by the use of his glowing crystal shard. Maybe it was something like that. “Well…all right,” she said at last, nodding.
