In which a tryst is witnessed
A charmed object - just like charismatic charm - flaunts itself to all and sundry.
- from Lady Avely’s Guide to Lies and Charms
Selina’s lashes fluttered down, and she was silent a moment. “Yes,” she admitted. “He took me down to see that awful Apollo statue and press his attentions upon me. I did not know what to do, for my own father had ordered me to accompany my fiancé, to compromise my virtue and commit me to the marriage.”
“So you went into the maze, reluctantly. Did you resist Charles’ advances?”
Still Selina did not look at her. “In truth, I did not want them.” There was a brief silence. “And then the duke rescued me.”
Her last sentence rang with admiration. Selina might love her Mr Southcott but she reserved a special worship for Dacian, it seemed. Or perhaps Mr Southcott was the only man who would take Selina, after the scandal of the house party.
“What were you wearing that night?” asked Judith abruptly.
Selina looked up, startled. “Er - I cannot recall - my white muslin, perhaps? Yes, it was that. I remember I felt like a virgin sacrifice.” She laughed uncomfortably.
Judith recalled the gown. Selina had been wearing it that night, at the announcement of her engagement. A similar metaphor had crossed Judith’s own mind, seeing Selina’s pale bosom and slender form clad in flowing white, while Charles had leered over her.
One question was answered: Selina had been the real woman under the Illusion of Judith. Had she been the one to cast the Illusion, to save herself? Or had it been a hidden watcher, Lady Vosse perhaps, sneaking into the maze? Or indeed, anyone who heard Lord Garvey invite Selina down into the gardens for a stroll that evening. It would be easy to guess that he would choose the hour of ten o’clock, when Apollo’s shadow was at its most suggestive. Then it would have been a simple matter to send the note to Dacian and arrange for the fatal confluence.
Judith put her teacup down and rubbed her forehead. Even as one strand came loose, she could see other knots. Had Selina known of Dacian and Judith’s own entanglement? She might have seen their confrontation in the glasshouse, but withdrawn from the window before Judith looked up.
Selina spoke. “I will try to visit Georgina soon, if that puts your mind at ease.” She seemed eager now to change the subject. “I will encourage Lady Garvey to untie the leading strings. Perhaps if enough of us plead with her, she will take heed.”
“Yes,” said Judith distractedly. “That would be useful.”
Standing, Mrs Southcott smiled, bringing the interview to a close. “It is strange to see you now, after all these years, Lady Avely. I hope you can see that I have grown past my uncertain girlhood.”
“Indeed.” Judith stood too. “It seems that some good came of that night, after all.”
Selina nodded. “If you ever see the Duke of Sargen, be sure to tell him so.”
Judith stiffened slightly, but she hoped it was not apparent. “I will, if the occasion should ever arise.” Indeed, she was aware of a burning desire to tell Dacian that his violence had not been completely unwarranted. Perhaps it would lift some of the burden on his conscience to know that he had rescued Selina from odious encroachment.
As she followed Selina out the room, Judith’s eye caught on a dollhouse, partly hidden in the corner behind one of the armchairs. It was a sturdy, two-storey wooden box, complete with tiny furniture and brightly coloured cloths. The little chairs looked rather familiar. They were in the Vember style Judith had seen before in London: crafted by and for vampiri.
She came to a halt. “Mrs Southcott, what a charming dollhouse! Wherever did you find such delicate furniture for it?”
Selina turned with a jerk. “Oh - those! Can you believe it: I found them in a forgotten corner of an attic. Charming, are they not? My daughter loves playing dolls with them.”
She spoke the truth, but Judith wondered if it was the whole truth. Did the dollhouse also serve another purpose, to house a vampiri companion? Or were there more of the Vember pieces hidden away in the attic, for the use of a certain Miss Yvette Belfleur?
Once again, Judith cursed the Edicts that forbade any mention of the vampiri or the Musor arts. She would give much to ask Selina directly if she knew of any magicks. Perhaps, she considered, it was worth the risk, to put aside the etiquettes of the Edicts while on the search for a murderer.
“Mrs Southcott,” she said bluntly, “does a bat ever frequent your household?”
Selina’s eyes widened. “Goodness me, you do ask strange questions. Bats! Whatever next!” She tilted her head consideringly. “I am sure we do have bats in our stable, Lady Avely, and perhaps one or two make their way into the house. But please do not hold it against us. It is as much we can do to keep the mice at bay.”
She turned and swept out of the house. Judith was left somewhat irate, for Selina’s answer had neatly told the truth while avoiding any revelation.
Robert was waiting outside, while the coachman walked the horses. Judith bid Selina farewell, and then turned to Robert.
“Would you like to walk back with me?” she asked. “We can send Patrick ahead with the carriage.”
Robert hesitated, glancing up at the sky, where grey clouds gathered in the distance. “The sun might not hold.”
“The walk is not long.”
He shook his head stiffly. “I’d best hurry back. His grace might need me.”
Judith did not want to beg for his company. “Very well.” She paused. “I will walk, however. And if you find the duke still occupied, please use the time for yourself.”
“The duke might not like you to walk-”
“The duke is overly anxious, and treats me as if I am still a maiden,” said Judith, somewhat snappishly. “The whole advantage of being a widow is that I may have a little freedom.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She sighed. “Please, call me Judith. It is vastly improper that you should still be carrying on as my footman, when we are related by the bonds of family and duty.”
Robert nodded soberly, but did not unclasp his hands from behind his back. “Very well, Judith. And I will take the opportunity to ask around about this Poleney fellow, while you are walking.”
“An excellent notion.”
The carriage rolled away with Robert’s tall form hanging off the back. Judith followed it, glaring after him. Irksome child! It was almost as if he was her son, with such inconsiderate behaviour. If she had been any other lady, he would have politely accompanied her on the walk, or at least accepted her suggestion that he take some time for himself! She supposed she should be grateful he was so prickly, for it was better than indifference.
The sound of wheels faded into the distance, to be replaced by the cooing of wood pigeons and the chirping of finches. Judith had much to ponder, as she walked along the country laneway. Several things had emerged from her conversation with Mrs Selina Southcott.
It was curious indeed that Selina had possession of Vember furniture. Then there was the worrying intelligence that Harriet Bollopher had been troubled by something before she died. Had Harriet discovered a dark plot and been silenced?
Surely the incriminating evidence could not have concerned Selina herself, for Selina had been the one to impart the news to Judith. Yet perhaps Selina had been dancing a delicate minuet, revealing truth while keeping her own secrets. The fact remained that Selina had possessed a strong motive for arranging Lord Garvey’s death, using the duke as her tool to do so. She knew all too well when Charles would be in the Apollo alcove in a compromising position, and she may well have known of Dacian’s pursuit of Judith. The duke had not, after all, been particularly subtle about it, even if one put aside his advances in the greenhouse.
Yet why would Selina bother to use Judith’s image, when Dacian might have called Lord Garvey out anyway, upon witnessing his unwanted attentions upon the innocent young woman? Judith grimaced to herself. It was true that Lord Garvey had been engaged to Selina at the time, so his behaviour could be construed as within his rights. Dacian might have abhorred it, and intervened, but not with the instinct of rage that led to immediate violence. Selina - or whoever cast the Illusion - must have known that.
Judith tried to assemble any other relevant facts in her mind. One, Lord Kenneth avoided his own house, only visiting the inn. Did that point to his guilt, or some other knowledge? Two, Selina had said this was because there was ill blood between him and Lady Garvey, citing Lady Garvey’s fondness for Charles - but there might be more behind her hostility than that. Three, Garvey House was neglected and shuttered, yet parts of the garden were well tended, including a secret path through the maze, hidden by an Illusion. Four, at the centre of the maze was an unfamiliar plant with a familiar smell, which Mrs Froode brewed in a tea and Kenneth perhaps sold to the local apothecary. And five, both Charles Garvey’s ghost and a live Kenneth had appeared to lurk around Garvey House late last night. Oh, and six, there was an unattached vampiri flying about: Miss Yvette Belfleur.
A pang of worry creased Judith’s brow. Marigold had spoken of Miss Belfleur in fond accents and defended her character vehemently last night. Wooten had not been so complimentary or trusting, and Judith was inclined to agree, even though Yvette had seemed to care for Marigold in her time of injury. The elusive vampiri could be with the enemy. Or she could be with the law. Either way, they ought not to trust her, as much as Marigold seemed eager to pursue her acquaintance. Judith would have to mention the Vember furniture, and the possibilities that it entailed. For if Miss Belfleur was a companion to Selina, why were they keeping the relation a secret?
The dirt path was muddy under her feet and Judith lifted her skirts slightly as she walked. Hedgerows on either side made the avenue feel protected and private, much like a larger version of the maze, though the branches also enclosed overhead. She rather felt as if her mind was caught in a labyrinth, trying to find the way to the truth at the centre of the puzzle. A greenfinch darted past, in a flash of lime and yellow, and her gaze followed its graceful, twittering path through the branches.
There was also Lord Triskett and Lady Vosse’s arrival to consider, and the fact that they had been staying in the neighbouring village last night - the very time when the Illusion of Lord Garvey was abroad.
At first sight, neither his lordship or her ladyship appeared to have any reason to rid the world of Lord Garvey nine years ago. But perhaps Judith had been overly focussed on Charles’ death. Perhaps his lordship had simply been a casualty.
Perhaps the real motive had been to rid England of the Duke of Sargen.
Judith chewed on her lip. If that was the case, whoever had orchestrated Dacian’s exile would not be pleased to see him returned.
The laneway curved. A gap in the hedgerows showed an open field and a copse of conifers. Judith glanced through, admiring the sturdy greenery that rose up like pointed domes. Then she froze, her breath catching in her throat.
Two figures stood by the tallest conifer, hand in hand, facing one another. One was tall and broad shouldered with black hair, and the other wore a pretty muslin gown of green, with long curls of red hair trailing down her bodice.
Judith took a step back into the shelter of the hedgerow. Her heart beat fast, as if it were losing blood. It was Dacian out there, holding Lady Vosse’s hand.
Gathering her courage, Judith parted a branch in the hedge and watched them.
She could see Dacian’s eyes crease with a smile as he looked down at his companion. Isobel stepped closer, coquettish, and raised a hand to his face. She stroked gently, and Dacian turned his head, placing a tender kiss on her palm. Then he moved his mouth to trail two more kisses down her wrist, while Isobel smiled in triumph.
Judith’s heart thudded loud in her ears. She stepped back, unable to watch. Pain shot through her like an arrow, winding her. The hedgerow prickled into the back of her gown, and her skirts dropped into the mud, unheeded.
Blessedly, the hurt was soon followed by anger - at herself most of all. Why should she be hurt? Why should she feel anything at all? She, of all people, knew that Dacian was fickle. She knew that he was lustful, and pursued his pleasures with alacrity. Isobel was simply giving him what Judith had withheld.
Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, threatening to draw blood. Better than tears, she told herself. Do not cry over that libertine. Not again.
She drew back the way she had come. Blindly, she found a fallen log she had passed earlier and sat upon it, careless of damp moss and crawling creatures. Another greenfinch flittered past her, but this time she did not notice its flash of colour. She stared angrily at her muddied hem, her hands clenched in her lap, tears welling in her eyes.
Only when a long time had passed did she rise once more, and set out again for the Golden Bat.
Robert met her by foot, half a mile from Stokesford, where the lane broadened. His expression was rather worried, and only deepened into guilt when he spotted her. There was no sight of Dacian or Isobel, thank God. Judith kept walking, mechanically. The outskirts of the village were a picturesque arrangement of pastures, cottages, and barns, with a chattering stream running along the road once more.
“There you are!” said Robert as he approached. “Did something delay you?”
“I was waylaid by bird-watching.”
At her flat tone, he gave Judith a more careful look. “Truly? You will land me in trouble with the duke. I am sorry that I left you to walk alone. I dared not tell him I had misplaced you, so I set out to look for you.”
“He was busy enough, I’m sure.” She felt a flash of irritation that Robert cared so much for the duke’s opinion. If only he knew that Dacian was nothing but a charming liar with the morals of a rabbit.
Robert fell in beside her, frowning. “What has happened? You seem…upset. Did you discover something from Mrs Southcott?”
Judith gladly followed the diversion, and reported the conversation to him, stressing her suspicions about Harriet’s death, hoping it would explain her low mood. In truth, she was unsettled by the thought that Harriet had laboured under some trouble and died unhappily.
“So,” she concluded, “we must consider the possibility that Harriet’s death wasn’t as innocent as it appeared.”
Robert frowned. “Are you suggesting…?”
“Perhaps Harriet discovered something incriminating.”
Robert kept his long stride to match Judith’s shorter steps, as they walked between the churned tracks of carriage wheels. “If that is the case, it narrows down our suspects. Who had the opportunity to harm Harriet? It must be someone from Garvey House.”
“I did wonder that, but we don’t really know the circumstances of her death. The story of her heart failure could simply be that - a story, put about. The truth of the matter might be quite different.” She paused as the lane curved past a herd of incurious cows, searching for further distraction from her grief. “Did you discover anything about the apothecary this afternoon?”
“I did,” Robert replied. “Mr Poleney has a popular new medicine, a bottled remedy which he calls the Poleney Elixir. He claims it contains a secret ingredient which will cure all ills, yet from what I can gather in the village, it has been a mixed success. Some people swear by it, and others dismiss it as quackery.”
“Intriguing. Do you think Kenneth is providing the special ingredient, from the maze? Perhaps it was itemised in the invoice you saw.”
“Yes,” said Robert. “And it might explain why he visited in secret last night, and it would give him a motive for killing his brother, if he knew that the flower was very valuable.”
“I wonder how the plant became infused with Healing properties,” said Judith thoughtfully. “I shall have to engage Kenneth in conversation about it. If I catch him in a lie, it might give us a clue.”
The road was muddy where carriage wheels had dug a rut, and Judith stepped around a particularly large puddle. She glanced over at Robert. “And did you find any time to draw?”
“A little,” he said evasively.
She dared another question. “Which do you prefer: sketching, tinted drawings, or oil painting?”
After a moment, he replied. “Oil painting, I think. It takes far longer, but it is more versatile.”
“Perhaps frustrating, when your Illusions arise so quickly to hand?”
His lips quirked in acknowledgement. “Real art does require patience, I find.”
Judith nodded. “I hope that the end result is more satisfying to you. I was taught how to do tinted drawings, myself, as part of my education, and I passed on what I knew to my own daughter.” There was an awkward silence, and she hurried on. “I’d be happy to share any technical knowledge with you. Your Illusions are exquisite, of course, but perhaps it is difficult to translate your artistic skill into another medium.”
“That is very true!” said Robert. “The one doesn’t guarantee the other, but I enjoy the challenge.”
“Just don’t tell the duke that I think his moustache is exquisite. He is already too fond of it.”
Robert cracked a smile, which Judith shared. “By the way,” she added, “you should also find yourself a vampiri companion, if you intend to keep practicing Illusion. And Castle Lanyon might soon host a whole roost from which you could choose.”
Robert raised his brows, but she did not explain further, just left it as an enticement. She did not want to mention the King’s mandate for the Avelys to set up a Musor school in Cornwall, for the whole conception was in its very early stages, and might frighten him off.
At her silence, Robert abruptly changed the subject. “We will be in sight of the village soon. It is best if I retreat.”
Judith sighed with annoyance as he fell back apace, adopting his position as footman. It was always one step forward, two steps back with the boy (literally, in this case). Dared she believe she was making some sort of progress with him?
As they breasted Stokesford’s main street, she welcomed the chance to compose herself before she entered the inn. She did not want Dacian, too, to notice that she was upset. Her pride would not allow it. She drew her shoulders back and set her lips into a small smile, as if she had traversed a most pleasant walk in the countryside.
Fortunately, she did not encounter his grace in the corridors, and she hustled past the parlour, determined to retreat to her room. At the door, she turned and nodded at Robert, dismissing him like a servant. She could keep to their assigned stations if he was going to be so damn stubborn about it. He gave her a curious look, but said nothing, taking up a position outside her door.
Alone in her room, Judith tore off her gloves and lay on her bed, wretched, as the memory of Dacian’s perfidy returned. Oh, for the oblivion of a nap! But sleep would not come; she was too overwrought, her mind lurching from one unpleasant speculation to the next.
Eventually, she sat up and pulled out her knitting, to make some progress on the bridal stockings for her daughter. The repetitive motions, along with thoughts of the wedding, calmed her a little, and she sighed. Perhaps some chocolate would further soothe her nerves.
She called for Robert, and when he cracked the door open, she asked him to order a molinet for her. He smiled and withdrew quickly.
However, ten minutes later, it was not Robert nor Phyllis who delivered the tray. The door swung open and Dacian stepped through, holding the chocolate aloft.