Ruins of bone, p.39
Ruins of Bone, page 39
“I am now. I’m not one prone to megrims, but I felt as if my head would split in two by the time I returned to Holle Castle yesterday. However, I slept long into the morning, and I’m quite restored, as you see.” When she leaned forward to pour the tea, a silvery-bright ward peeped from her bodice, one that did not resemble the useless ward-pendants peddled about Byren, but rather the one Mr. Burke had born, those he said alchemists provided to their Collectors—and like those given the stratesmen when the killer preyed upon Avons.
Was it possible they were Collectors? Surely not. The Redgraves were an old and venerated family, their head titled, their wealth long established. They’d have no need to risk their lives for the monetary gains offered by the Otherworld.
I swallowed against a swell of nausea, and Jade wandered to the far side of the room. “I’m relieved to hear it.”
“Still, I must confess I’ve wondered about those fang-wolves. I never dreamt they ranged so far as Withern.” Then she gave a light laugh. “But I’m scarcely an expert.”
“You handled yourself well against them.”
“Did I? I suppose the shock of it all impacted me more than I expected, for it’s all a bit of a jumble in my mind.” She stirred her tea. “How fortunate that Mr. Burke and Lord Riven were able to drive them off. I certainly shan’t return.”
I accepted the cup she offered. “If you don’t mind, I wanted to inquire about your parasol blade. I found it rather remarkable.”
“It has been of use on more than one occasion.” A brilliant smile lit her face. “But don’t tell Lady Holloway I said that. She’d be shocked that such a device entered her home, let alone that a lady wielded it.”
“Are they easily procured?” Given the dangers gathering about me, I’d like a weapon at hand.
“If one knows whom to ask. I shall give you the name of its maker.” She slid a honey cake onto her plate. “My family collects such peculiarities, so he’s used to all sorts of unusual requests.”
I sipped at my tea, the sea-blossom honey I’d stirred into it sparking with Other on my tongue. What did I know of the Redgrave family, aside from generalities? Some vague memory tugged at the edges of my mind, but I could not draw it forth.
“What do you think of the sea-blossom honey?”
“I find it delightful.”
“Lady Denby informed me that in addition to its unique flavor, it has remarkable healing properties, and the locals of Withern use it in treating all sorts of ailments.”
How very interesting. If true, that was another point in favor of the sea-blossoms having some root in the Otherworld.
With that, Elodie leaned forward to engage with Ada, drawing her into a discussion on her favorite composers. Unlike some, Elodie appeared to feel no need to prove her knowledge superior and listened with interest to Ada’s account of the methodologies used by contemporary composers. Their conversation flowed about me, nearly as familiar and comfortable as that which we held within our own home.
Only I’d best remember that we knew very little of the Redgraves, and that I should not allow myself to become too much at ease. I swallowed against the lingering queasiness.
Ainslie set down her plate with a thunk, drawing attention to her conversation with Mr. Redgrave. “You cannot support the new mirror-crafting process, surely? Granted, it offers new positions to those who might require them, but it’s the most dangerous sort, and they’re not well compensated, particularly given the risks involved. I’ll grant it produces a better glass—but at what cost?”
I blinked. I’d never seen her speak like this outside our family, and rarely within it. To Mr. Redgrave she revealed hints of her true self, her interest in the more serious matters of the world, which much of society would condemn.
“I have raised that exact question.” He gestured with his free hand as though addressing an unseen audience. “Most say a better product—and better profits—are worth what they deem negligible risks.”
“It’s easy to call a risk negligible when you’re not the one taking it,” she said.
“As it happens, I share your perspective. My uncle has informed me of a forthcoming discussion in the Assemblage of Lords that will address the use of street children in the smelting process, at least.”
“Truly?” Ainslie leaned forward, intent on his words—and clearly close to surrendering her heart. Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising, given that she rarely acted in half measures. “That’s excellent news.”
“It is a first step. Whether it will prompt action remains to be seen.”
“You appear well-informed on political matters, Mr. Redgrave,” Ada said.
“Not nearly as much as some. But my uncle serves in the assemblage, and he considers it vital that I understand the policies under discussion.” He spread his hands. “I’m to take his place one day, so I hear more than I might sometimes wish—but he’s right. If one has the position, one must take responsibility.”
“You say you hear more than you wish. Do politics bore you?” Ainslie asked.
“Endless debates and powermongering trouble me.” His eyes, a rich cinnamon-brown, darkened slightly. “Often the assemblage fails to do what it must. Words and promises mean nothing if action isn’t taken.”
Ainslie nodded. “Well said.”
With a graceful motion, Elodie stood. “Miss Jessa, may I steal you away for a moment? I wanted to ask your opinion on a sketch I recently discovered. I hear you’re a skilled artist, and I’d welcome your insight.”
“I enjoy sketching and painting, but I can claim no expertise. Still, I’d be happy to take a look.”
As I trailed Elodie from the room, Ada moved to the pianoforte and began perusing the music, allowing Mr. Redgrave and Ainslie to converse undisturbed. They didn’t even appear to notice that the rest of us had moved away.
Elodie halted in the doorway, glancing back at them. “They suit well, don’t you think?”
Jade bounded to my side, and I picked her up. “It appears they do, and I’m pleased they enjoy each other’s company.”
“Even so, it’s a bit peculiar to think of losing one’s sibling, isn’t it?” She swept down the hall, the slightest hint of sorrow softening her features. “Charles has been the best of brothers. When our father died, he thought nothing of his own interests or grief, only threw himself into taking care of me and Mother.”
“I didn’t know you’d lost your father. I’m very sorry.”
“It wasn’t recent—I was quite young when he passed, just old enough to be devastated. Time eases the sting a bit, but still there are moments when I wish . . .” She looked away abruptly. “I shouldn’t complain, when we’ve lacked nothing. Only, as I said, Charles has always felt he must look after us, even though Father left us well-situated, and our uncle was pleased to offer us a home in Redgrave Hall. I’m happy to see Charles think of his own interests for once.”
“Your family seems close.”
“Indeed, sometimes a bit too much so—there are so very many of us, after all, all involved in each other’s affairs.” Then, as though she regretted her frank speech, she fixed a smile on her face and began sharing a series of anecdotes about her nieces. “Ah, here we are.”
She swung open a door, revealing a cozy chamber with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. “Before our visit to Kilmere, I wanted to see what I could find about its past. In the search, I came across a drawing within an old book. I thought perhaps it might interest you.”
From the leaves of an ancient leather volume she withdrew a detailed sketch of a basilisk done in a walnut hull ink. Its enormous frame bristled with spines down the back, its ruff flared about its face, and its fangs were bared in hostility, as though it might leap from the page and strike.
Jade surveyed it, her green eyes glinting. Someone knew of it.
I kept my face as expressionless as I could manage. “How very remarkable. A skilled artist drew this. But was there no context as to its inclusion in the book? This appears like something one would find in a bestiary.”
“The book details the history of Withern and makes no mention of basilisks, yet this was tucked between the pages, as if someone drew it and abandoned it there long ago.” Elodie balanced the book in her arms. “It appears Kilmere was mired in tragedy from the beginning, which perhaps accounts for the legends of the curse.”
Was some memory of what had truly transpired at Kilmere fighting to break free? Had she brought me here to gauge my reaction to a discussion of the ruins? Or did she know something more? I gripped the picture tighter, and the paper crinkled. “What tragedy occurred?”
“According to the book, Lady Firth—they called her the Lady of Ravens—requested the fortress built, but then died there even as the foundations were being laid.”
“How dreadful.” I eyed the book. How had Elodie so readily laid her hands upon it, when Ibbie had sought written accounts to little avail? Had she found it in the library, as she claimed, or had she brought it with her? “May I see?”
She offered me the book, and I skimmed the faded script within. It appeared to echo the notes Ibbie had collected long ago, but this account carried far greater detail. It described vividly the great beauty of Lady Firth and how she’d so captivated her husband that he counted the construction of the fortress but a small task, if it brought her pleasure.
As Elodie had reported, she’d become known as the Lady of Ravens, for after she wed Lord Firth, a large unkindness settled in the region—and they were known to come to her and feed from her hands.
She certainly sounded fae—beautiful and strange and bent on the construction of Kilmere.
Jade licked a paw and scrubbed it across her face. Some fae have affinities turned toward animals. Perhaps she was one.
I continued to turn pages, lost in the tale. According to the writer, one evening Lady Firth traveled alone to the site of Kilmere to survey its foundations, which were under construction—and she never returned.
Her frantic husband found her body broken upon the foundation of Kilmere, her blood spilled upon its stones—and he never recovered from his grief. In a poetic touch, the author suggested that ravens still nested about Kilmere because they mourned their lost lady.
I skimmed on, but the writer attended next to other members of the Firth family, who went into decline after the incident. I looked up to find Elodie surveying me intently.
I passed the book back to her. “How very tragic. No wonder the locals believe it cursed.”
“For my part, after our ill-fated expedition, I’m prepared to believe it as well.” She shuddered slightly. “In any case, I’d like to know what you make of the drawing. Do you believe it as old as the book?”
“Walnut hull ink fell out of favor centuries ago, so I imagine it is.”
“How very interesting. I wonder why it was tucked away here.” She tilted her head. “I suppose we shall never know.”
“Oh, there you are, Jessa.” Ada appeared in the doorway, with Ainslie alongside. “We must go, else we will miss our appointment at the dressmaker.”
I could have embraced them for the escape they offered. I did not want to evade any more questions, but rather to consider the details revealed.
If Lady Firth had been fae, why had she died so? And what did it have to do with the curse?
Chapter 34
We returned to Willowere to find Aunt Caris and Dreda awaiting us in the morning room. Aunt Caris worked on her correspondence, while Dreda wound fine yarn.
“Ah, there you are, my dears.” Aunt Caris sealed a letter and set it aside. “Just in time. I don’t want to cause further trouble with Melisina by arriving late, not when she’s offering such a generous gift.”
“What would you like me to do in your absence, Miss Caldwell?” Dreda asked.
“You’re to have a new gown too, so you’ll come with us.” Aunt Caris capped her bottle of ink. “You’ll need something fine enough for a ball, and I didn’t purchase anything of that nature before.”
“Thank you, Miss Caldwell.” Dreda bobbed her head. “I didn’t think you’d want me to attend.”
“With three unwed nieces to look after, I’ll gladly take an extra chaperone.” Aunt Caris patted her arm. “Besides, I believe you’ll find it pleasant. Lady Holloway is known for her lavish parties, each outdoing the last.”
She bustled us toward the door, and we opened it to find Mr. Tibbons approaching the cottage.
I halted in the doorway. “Mr. Tibbons, I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“Forgive the intrusion.” He offered a bow. “It appears you’re going out. Should I return later?”
“It’s no trouble.” I nodded at the others. “You go ahead, I’ll only be a moment.”
They moved toward the carriage, while I joined Mr. Tibbons in the front yard.
He lifted a leather portfolio. “I’ve brought all the records you requested, and something else too. When your father learned I intended to join you in Kilmere, he asked me to deliver this—he said he’d agreed to forward it from Lord Blackburn.”
“Thank you for all your assistance.” I accepted the letter and portfolio. What did Lord Blackburn want? Had he changed his mind about sharing evidence? “I would like to discuss what you’ve learned, but we’re on our way to an appointment. Do you have a place to stay in Withern?”
“I intend to take a room at the Sea Blossom, if that suits you.”
“I understand Withern is much occupied this time of year, so anywhere you can find a room is fine with me.” I hesitated, mindful of the others awaiting me in the carriage. “Before you go, I have one question—how did Kilmere feel to you, when you explored it?”
“Feel?” His eyes clouded. “It’s hard to describe. I suppose I was struck by its grandeur, intrigued by all it might hold. I could see why it had stuck with Lady Dromley all those years—why she wanted to return and fathom its secrets.”
“And while you were there, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“I can’t say . . .” He trailed off, as though he struggled to remember, and then picked up on another vein entirely. “Should I continue making inquiries among the townsfolk or return to taking preliminary surveys of Kilmere?”
“Neither as yet. The townsfolk are uneasy, and I’d like to explore Kilmere a bit more myself before anyone else ventures inside. Why don’t you enjoy a short holiday?”
“That’s generous of you, Miss Caldwell, but I don’t mind working, particularly not on a project as interesting as this.”
“I assure you I’ll put you to work as soon as I know what I need. I simply require some time to figure it out,” I said.
Ainslie poked her head from the carriage and beckoned with a finger, restraining herself from calling out as she doubtless wished to do.
“Forgive me, I must go. Please take the next day or two to settle in and occupy yourself as you please. We’ll speak more soon.”
He took his leave, and I clambered into the carriage to join Aunt Caris on the back-facing bench. If Kilmere could no longer use Mr. Ellsworth, would it seek another who was already vulnerable—like Mr. Tibbons? Perhaps it would be best to send him away rather than put him to work, so he’d not be at risk? But what excuse could I give for dismissal? It was not as if he’d failed in his duties.
Jade settled onto the seat next to me, and our driver clucked to the horses, who swung into motion.
“What did Mr. Tibbons want, my dear?” Aunt Caris asked.
“Only to bring some records I’d requested from Avons.” I longed to examine them right away, but it was impractical to sort through the contents of the folio while rattling along in the carriage—particularly since I did not want my family to glimpse the contents. However, I could more readily satisfy my curiosity about the letter from Lord Blackburn, so I slid my finger along the seam, opening it.
Miss Caldwell,
I have reflected upon our conversation at the Botanic Gardens many times since that day. When your father informed me you’d gone to investigate Kilmere, I felt I must write. Lady Dromley once suggested to me that Kilmere was built in the era of the now-forgotten war. If so, then perhaps it has light to shed on matters of interest to us both.
If you find records or artifacts within the ruins that might provide illumination on subjects of interest, would you consider selling them to me? I’d offer whatever you deem them worth, as I did with the antiquities Lady Dromley procured for me on occasion.
With regard,
Lord Blackburn
I folded the letter and tucked it into my reticule. Ibbie had helped him gather information in the past, and now I was positioned to do likewise—but knowing what I did of Kilmere, how could I agree? If I revealed to him any hint of the truth, I couldn’t predict how he’d react. Yet he could prove an ally in my quest for understanding, so I didn’t want to reject his offer outright.
What do you think, Jade?
She rested her head on my lap. I think he means well, but he both fears and hates fae. If he has reason to suspect you’re something Other—or something alchemically altered, as the case may be—he could prove a danger.
I stroked the patch between her ears. Unfortunately, so could nearly everyone in my life. So what was I to do? I considered as we rolled along the road, the fragrance of the famous sea-blossoms filling our carriage—an almost intoxicating scent with an unsettling hint of Other.
Aunt Caris’s voice broke into my thoughts. “I found it very promising that Mr. Redgrave called upon you yesterday, Ainslie. I only regret I was in too much distress over my locket to welcome him properly.”
She colored slightly. “He understood, and I believe he truly didn’t mind helping with the search.”
“That bodes well indeed. Perhaps I’ll have the pleasure of planning a wedding at last.” Her hand drifted to the hollow of her neck, where her locket should have rested. A gift from a former love, perhaps?
Ainslie shook her head. “He’s made no declarations as yet, nor would I accept one if he had. We’ve only known each other a short time, and it’s far too soon to know if we’d suit.”
