In which a cravat is creased
Things can seem different in the dark.
- from Lady Avely’s Guide to Lies and Charms
Judith wore her warmest cloak and her boots, but the night still held an autumnal chill. She walked with ‘Mr Fortnew’ at her side, and Robert behind her as footman, but as soon as they were out of sight of the village, she called for Robert to draw abreast with them and walk together.
It was very quiet. Only their steps sounded, and the occasional call of a night bird. The moon was almost full, a glowing, misshapen pearl in the sky. Clouds drifted overhead, and the trees seemed larger somehow in the moonlight, their presence more noticeable and mysterious. The smell of damp earth released with the rising dew.
Judith cast a sideways look at Dacian. He was silent, walking with his hands thrust into his coat, staring at the ground. He was clad in gentleman’s clothes again, elegant and fine, and Judith felt a momentary doubt.
“Perhaps you should be in livery, after all,” she said hesitantly, “in case you are required to emerge from the hedge.”
“Too late now,” he said moodily. “Be happy with me as a topiary.”
“We could return for Robert’s spare clothes.” She chewed on her lip, seeing Dacian’s cheekbones sharper in the moonlight, his hooded eyes somehow more piercing as he glared at her. “You appear rather…ducal. Even with the moustache.”
He shrugged. “The Illusor knows that I am here. And to be quite honest with you, Judith, if anything goes amiss, I will not stand quietly by as a shrub.”
Judith sighed, annoyed and worried. She could just imagine that Dacian might leap into the fray with ‘Lord Garvey’ just as Marigold had recklessly done. Overhead, she caught sight of her companion wheeling across the sky, and wondered if they were all flying into danger.
“Lady Garvey does not suspect your presence yet. And do not forget my theory that Lord Garvey’s death might have been simply to exile you from the country. You must be careful, Dacian.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied shortly. “Why would anyone want to exile me?”
“Hm.” Right now, she could think of several reasons.
Robert spoke up. “What of Lord Triskett? Didn’t he owe you a large amount nine years ago?”
Dacian snorted. “Enough to want me out of the country?” Then his mouth twisted. “People have killed for less than a thousand pounds, I admit, but I refuse to believe it of Biscuit. He doesn’t have it in him to concoct such a scheme. He’s as harmless as a lamb, and besides, he knew I wouldn’t press him for payment.”
“As a matter of honour, he was bound to pay you.” Judith pulled her cloak closer. “And it might not have just been money. I rather think he has deep affection for Isobel. Perhaps he was jealous of you as a rival.”
“Utter nonsense,” said Dacian. “Honestly, Judith, you’ve been reading too many gothic novels, to come up with this sort of tripe.”
Wooten sniffed from Dacian’s far shoulder. “Says he who is wearing a villainous moustache.”
“It is not,” said Dacian. “Kenneth’s moustache is far more villainous than mine. If you ask me, it is further proof that he is our killer.”
“Hush,” said Judith. They had reached a crossroads, the wooden signs indistinguishable in the shadows, but she knew which way to go. “We should approach the maze from the poplar avenue, around the back. That way you can take up your position, Dacian, before I stroll out and invite the ghost to join me.”
Dacian shrugged gloomily. Judith called up into the sky for Marigold, and explained to her circling form that she wanted Marigold to go with Robert and approach from the front, staying hidden and watchful. “Keep an eye and ear out for Musing in the house,” she said softly. She did not mention that she wanted Marigold safe from grasping hands. “Wooten will stay with me and the duke.”
Robert folded his arms. “So you are to parade about as ghost bait? Is that wise, Judith?”
She smiled, glad that Robert was being more direct with her, even if it was a product of his slight Bemusement from conjuring yew hedges. “The ghost won’t do anything to me, except perhaps loom a little.”
“It’s no use, Robert, you won’t dissuade her,” said Dacian. “Just be glad that you’re not a tree.”
Robert laughed and set off with Marigold towards the main driveway of Garvey House. Judith took a more indirect route round the fields with Dacian and Wooten. They walked in silence at first, and briskly, to warm their limbs against the creeping cold. Soon they were at the bottom of the poplar avenue.
The trees stood tall and shivering in the moonlight, their spindly branches bare where their leaves had fallen. Towering shadows leaned across the avenue, slicing it into strips of darkness.
Judith slowed a little, steps crunching on the fallen litter, and glanced uneasily at Dacian. It was unusual for him to remain so quiet, but she dared not broach the subject of their indiscretions while Wooten still sat upon his shoulder. Goodness know what Wooten might have to say about it all.
At that moment, the vampiri murmured something softly into Dacian’s ear. It was indistinguishable to Judith, but she heard Dacian’s side of the conversation.
“Follow her… Confront her if you must…” Dacian came to a halt and tilted his head. “Come now, Wooten, I know you don’t feel the cold. And we need to find out more about the lady in question.”
Ah. It must be Yvette of which they spoke. With difficulty, Judith restrained herself from looking skyward. It seemed that Wooten had sensed the presence of the other vampiri. Had Yvette returned to Stokesford? Was she looking for Marigold, or up to some other mischief? Judith would be glad of an opportunity to question the vampiri herself, to gauge the truth of her statements.
Wooten grumbled. Judith, craning to see past Dacian’s profile, quickly averted her gaze, for Wooten was reluctantly disrobing. He passed his delicate cravat into Dacian’s large hand, followed by his coat, waistcoat, shirt, breeches, and underclothes, all neatly folded. Dacian stuffed them into his own pocket, and Wooten let out a moan of distress.
“Careful, I beg of you! Those are tailored by the Duchessel of Planx herself.”
“Off you go,” said Dacian implacably.
“This is not proper British conduct,” whined Wooten, but then his black shape lurched into the air and faded into the shadows of the poplars.
Dacian began walking again. Judith followed, wondering if she had the courage to speak now, to ask him why he was so cross. It could not simply be about his impending stint as shrubbery, could it?
But even as she drew a breath to speak, he held up his hand, warning for silence.
They had drawn close to the entrance to the maze. The opening looked darker and narrower than in daylight.
“Through the maze or around?” he murmured. “I have Wooten’s map with me.”
She eyed the ominous passageway. “Around, I think.” She did not want to be lost in there again. “There are two or three more entrances on the other side, which we can use if necessary.”
Dacian turned wordlessly and led them around the outer edge. From this perspective the maze appeared as a massive bulk, solid and impenetrable. Judith was glad when they reached another entrance and paused, listening.
The only sound was the call of an owl and her own beating heart.
Dacian cocked an eyebrow.
“Not yet,” she muttered. “The next one.”
As they walked on, she heard the frightened rustle of a creature, disturbed by their progress. She jumped, and the animal retreated noisily into the undergrowth of the maze. She stayed frozen, listening intently.
Dacian reached back and took her hand in his warm grasp. The touch made her heart leap anew. Blood rushed to her face, yet Dacian said nothing, merely pulling her forward and walking in silence, holding her hand.
In the dark, Judith felt as if she were a girl again: treading on air and utterly enchanted by such a trivial touch.
She looked down at his fingers, so sure and strong, and barely stopped herself from raising them to her lips and kissing them.
“Dacian,” she whispered.
He turned his head. Their gazes met.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His face lightened with a faint smile. “For insisting that I be a tree, or a rake?”
She drew a breath and pulled them to a halt. “Both.”
He turned to face her, his eyes intent. But at that moment, a sound came crashing from the maze. Not an animal this time, but a human blundered through the corridors, large-footed and clumsy. The noise stopped, then just as quickly began again, brushing against the yew, snapping branches and sending birds and creatures scurrying.
Judith and Dacian stayed very still. It sounded as if someone were drunk or mad, lost and panicked. Or perhaps the sounds were simply magnified in the darkness. As Judith strained to listen, the crashing halted again and there was a long silence.
Then a small, high-pitched shriek pierced the air. A girl, or a woman, in danger?
Dacian squeezed Judith’s hand, and let go. Then he pelted away, and vanished through a shadowy entrance into the labyrinth.
Judith stared after him, horrified. She did not move, but listened with all her might. She could hear his progress, but it soon became muddled with the sound of the other stumbling figure. There was no other scream, but the lack of human voices somehow made the muddled cacophony all the more frightening.
Suddenly there was a loud grunt, and a deep yell of pain. It was masculine and agonised, and followed by the sound of a heavy body falling.
Then footsteps running.
Which one had been Dacian? Judith found herself moving too, blindly and wildly. She ran into the maze and, by instinct only, followed the path she had heard him take. Please God, she prayed, let him not be hurt. Please, let that tormented cry not have fallen from his lips.
She realised that she could only hear her own thudding footsteps now. Her heart beat in her throat and she strained her eyes desperately against the darkness, turning frantically deeper into the maze. Where had he gone? She dared not call his name, and announce his presence. There was still a chance that he was the one who had cast the blow, not received it.
Coming to a gasping halt, Judith realised she was lost. Silence fell eerily, blank and suffocating. The walls of the yew loomed up on either side, casting thick shadows. An opening showed to her right but she did not know whether to take it or not. She clenched her gloved hands in front of her, too overwrought even to curse.
For a long while, she listened. There was no sound at all, as if even the little creatures had all frozen in fear. Then a thought occurred to her; that maybe Dacian, too, was listening and waiting.
She swallowed. “Harold?” Maybe it would prick some response from him.
Anything was better than this dreadful absence.
“Harold?” she called again, quietly.
When the silence continued, anxiety tightened in her chest.
Not knowing what else to do, she called once more, and took the right-hand turn, progressing further into the labyrinth.