In which there is a noble sacrifice
What seems like a little lie can sometimes cover a much larger deception.
- from Lady Avely’s Guide to Lies and Charms
When Robert turned around, he had a black mouse resting in the palms of his hands. Its long nose twitched, and two dark eyes peered mournfully round the drawing room. A long pink tail curled around its furry body. It was a convincing Illusion, and Judith let out a sigh of relief.
“Oh dear,” said Selina faintly, while Dacian grinned.
“Good God!” shrieked Lady Garvey. “Get it out! At once!”
“Yes,” said Judith firmly. “Out the window, please, Robert.”
“Certainly,” said Robert. He crossed to the window, unlatched it, and carefully tipped Marigold onto the sill. She sat there a moment, and then shuffled away until she had disappeared out of sight. Judith hoped that she was the only one who had caught glimpse of a black, leathery wing.
Constable Carter blinked. “Such a tame creature. Amazing.”
Robert shut the window with a quiet click, then retreated to his position by the door, a faint redness in his cheeks. Judith’s shoulders drooped with the release of tension. Marigold was safe at last, even if she would have something to say about it later.
Lady Garvey’s jaw was tight. She raised her quizzing glass to glare at Robert across the room. “You really must control your servants better, Lady Avely. It wouldn’t surprise me if he put the mouse there himself.”
Judith heard some note of discord in Lady Garvey’s voice and turned to stare at her. Why should that last sentence sound with the tenor of a lie? Judith examined her face closely, and her eyes fixed on the quizzing glass. It flashed like an opaque mirror.
Lady Garvey was myopic; she was short-sighted and could not even see to the other side of the room without it. Even now she was peering at Robert with distaste, as if to properly examine him through the ornate circle.
Yet, when Judith had entered the room, Lady Garvey had been looking down to the driveway without her glass. Just as she had seen Dacian without it, on the drive, a day ago. Moreover, she had seen enough to remark upon his appearance from a distance.
The insight struck Judith like a blow. The quizzing glass was a ruse.
In fact, Lady Garvey was a ruse.
Judith’s breath caught in her throat. She had been wrong. Harriet had not taken the place of her servant. She had become the mistress of the house.
It was Lady Garvey who had died. Harriet, with the help of Mrs Froode and Georgina and her own cunning, had taken her place.
Judith stared at the slashing brows and beaky nose, trying to see past the Illusion. Belatedly, she could see the determined angle of Harriet’s shoulders under Lady Garvey’s arrogant posture, and her quiet assurance beneath the theatrical haughtiness. The quizzing glass itself probably held the charm.
Oblivious to Judith’s consternation, Dacian smirked at Robert conspiratorially. “Just be glad the mouse wasn’t in your teapot, Lady Garvey.”
“Pfft,” said Harriet, superb in her portrayal of an imperious matriarch. She dropped her glass with disgust and stalked over to the clock to slam it shut. “Servants these days are useless. And so are you, Arnold. You couldn’t even kill a mouse.”
Judith watched the confidence in her step with a new awareness. The walking stick and slow tottering must have been part of the act, like Dacian’s hunch. Harriet must retain some natural vigour - perhaps enhanced by the Galenia flower - enough to glide about as Lord Garvey’s ghost, or even creep behind Faske with a steel sword in her hand.
Curse it, she had used the very same tactic that Judith had: taking advantage of society’s assumptions about older matrons.
Dacian winked and strode over to clap Constable Carter on the back. “I am much obliged for your good sense today, my dear sir. I perceive that we share a similar sense of duty.”
The constable gave a short nod in acknowledgment, then turned to usher Selina out the door. He paused at the last moment. “I hope we can let this matter go now, Lady Garvey. May your son rest in peace.”
A taut silence met this vain hope, but the constable did not stay to question the tenor of it. Perhaps he felt that he would do well to stay out of squabbles between nobles, for he followed Selina out, their footsteps loud on the wooden stairs.
As soon as the footsteps had faded, Lady Garvey - Harriet - spoke in a low, quivering voice to Dacian. “You will not escape justice so easily, you cur.”
Her words broke the tableau. Dacian kept his face placatory and stepped forward. “I will be happy to talk about justice, Lady Garvey. We have come to discuss your housekeeper, and the hold she has over you.”
Harriet raised her brows. “Oh? What nonsense is this now?”
“Wait, Dacian,” said Judith.
“Mrs Froode,” said Dacian. “We know she is not whom she seems to be. And she had a hand in your son’s death.”
“What?” said Harriet coldly. “ You killed my son! How dare you talk such balderdash?”
Judith, certain now, with the word ‘son’, finally stepped forward. “Stop your play-acting, Harriet. I know it is you hiding beneath the Illusion.”
Dacian’s eyes widened and he fell back a step. “Wait… She’s Harriet?”
Judith nodded. “She took Lady Garvey’s place, not Mrs Froode’s.”
“Rubbish,” said Harriet, slamming her walking stick down. “Utter nonsense!”
Judith continued calmly. “We know you orchestrated Charles’ death, and murdered Faske by your own hand.”
Harriet’s fingers clenched on her stick. “How dare you spout such lies!”
Judith indicated the heavy book that Robert had placed on the table. “These accounts prove that you continue to live in this house, albeit under a different name, for it is your handwriting throughout. It is time to end this charade and renounce your place here.”
Harriet eyed the tome. “You are imagining things, Lady Avely. Perhaps your mobcap is tied on too tight. That is Mrs Froode’s handwriting in there.”
Judith gritted her teeth at the lie. “I’m not leaving until you admit to your part in Charles’ death.”
There was a hostile silence. Judith and Harriet locked eyes, Harriet’s sparking with anger. But their silent battle of wills was interrupted by footsteps on the stairs.
Georgina burst through the door.
Her golden hair was in disarray. Leaves clung to her rose-coloured gown, and the red ribbon above her ear had come undone, trailing over her cheek.
“Grandmama! I just saw Constable Carter leaving with Selina. Why does he not take the duke?” She stared round at the grim faces. “What has happened? Why is his grace still here?”
Judith spoke. “We know this is Harriet, Georgina. The pretence is over.”
The girl flushed. “What do you mean?” she faltered. “This is Lady Cordelia Garvey, my grandmother.”
It was a lie. And it explained why Judith had not caught Georgina out before, for ‘Grandmama’ could refer equally to Harriet and Lady Garvey. Only when she gave Harriet the false title did her words ring hollow.
Judith sighed. “Do not deny it. I know you have been helping her, though at least you had no part in Charles’ death.”
“What?” said Georgina blankly. “It was the duke who killed my father.” She turned a fulminating gaze upon Dacian. “How dare you try to shift the blame onto an old woman?”
Dacian folded his arms uncomfortably across his chest. “That old woman used her Illusions to manipulate me into killing Charles.”
Georgina went pale. “That’s not true.” She spun to Harriet. “Tell them, Grandmama.”
“No, it is not true,” said Harriet harshly. “A Banbury story, by a Banbury man. Do not believe them, Georgy.”
Georgina’s slender shoulders drooped, and she scowled at the duke once more, her cheeks flushing.
Judith, however, had heard the lie clanging in Harriet’s words. She looked from one to the other, realising that Harriet did not want her granddaughter to know the extent of her villainy. She opened her mouth, then shut it again, unable to bring herself to puncture the girl’s innocence. It would be a terrible thing to know that your grandmother had killed your own father.
Georgina, emboldened, stalked towards Dacian, youth granting her a foolish bravado. “I suppose that you are after the Galenia flower, your grace? I warn you, I am its guardian. I might not have the Healing talent of my mother, but at least I can safeguard her creation with my own Gift. If you plan to take it with you, you should know that it shall wilt without my help.”
Dacian held his ground, but his expression became pitying. “You are a Healor, then? No wonder your grandmother keeps you so secluded, if you are sustaining her life.”
“It is my choice!” snapped Georgina. “She is the only family I have left, apart from Uncle Kenneth. Of course, I willingly care for her.”
Dacian nodded slowly. “I thought that the Bollophers had relatives in London?”
“No, they do not.” A faint crease marked Georgina’s brow.
“Enough of this,” said Harriet abruptly. “I told you to stay in your room, Georgina. Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t let you face them all alone,” said Georgina defiantly.
“I thought I locked the door,” Harriet snapped.
Georgina shot Judith a look before replying. “Yvette unlatched my window, and I climbed out. She told me that I ought to know what is going on.”
Harriet shook her head angrily. “If you want to see what is going on, you should follow Selina Southcott to the constable’s house. She is going to provide testimony to clear the duke’s name, drat the girl. I would appreciate it if you would go with her, and find out exactly what she intends to claim.”
Georgina frowned, looking from one to the other. Judith remained silent, and Dacian, with a raised brow, followed her lead.
“Very well, Grandmama,” said Georgina reluctantly. “If you wish it, and if you feel safe here with these visitors…” She looked suspiciously at Dacian once more, who held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, perhaps to show that he hid no duelling gun upon his person.
Harriet’s fingers clenched on her walking stick. “Do not doubt me, my child. I will handle these interlopers. You follow Selina, and report back to me.”
Georgina gave a short nod of acquiescence, and backed out of the room, but not before one last admonishing look. She stepped past Robert, who lowered his eyes as she passed.
Only once her light footsteps had died away, did Judith once more look to Harriet.
By the window, ‘Lady Garvey’ calmly lifted her quizzing glass over her head and set it aside on the table.
“You are correct,” she said. “I will not prevaricate any longer. Thank you for not forcing the issue before Georgina.”
With the Illusion charm removed, her true face was revealed: plain, unremarkable, with thinning grey hair and pale lips. Judith frowned. Harriet looked much older than her recollection of nine years ago - but perhaps even then she had been augmented by Illusion. And now her papery cheek was marked with red scratches, laid down by Marigold’s talons. So it had indeed been her beneath the Illusion of Lord Garvey’s ghost and Lord Kenneth by the maze.
There was a triumphant gleam in Harriet’s grey eyes, as if she relished finally being her true self before them.
“How did you know me, Judith?” A cool, reserved register had replaced the strident tones of Lady Garvey, and Harriet raised her eyebrows in mild interrogation.
“You saw the duke through the window, without your quizzing glass,” replied Judith.
“Ah.” Harriet gave a rueful sigh, and threw her walking stick down. “Stupid of me. I was simply surprised to see him waltzing up my driveway just like that. Though his grace has always been rather arrogant.”
Dacian spoke bitterly. “Not your driveway, if I may be so bold.”
“It is mine now,” she corrected him. “You are a fool if you think I shall simply renounce it. You may have convinced that silly constable that you are some noble protector, but I know the truth. You were misusing your Gift that night, and the Musor Custos will ensure that you are punished. How full of pride will you be when you lose your power and your memory, your grace? I shall be interested to observe how deep your hubris goes. I am certain that it is bottomless.”
Anger stirred in Judith. “What of you, Harriet? You misused your Gift. You took my image in vain and sullied it with your vulgar pantomimes, to incite a man to murder. You cannot talk of hubris. Lord Garvey might have been despicable, but it was not for you to decide his death.”
“I had to be rid of him.” She returned to her armchair, with restrained movements that were somehow more unnerving than the regal air of Lady Garvey. Dacian watched her carefully.
She only sat down with a sigh. “Charles was going to marry that girl and throw me out of the house. Where would I have gone? And what would I do without the Galenia? My lungs would clog up and I’d be in a poor house. You tell me what you would have done, Judith, before you judge me so harshly.”
Harriet tilted her head and looked at Judith with an air of mild enquiry, as if she was discussing quite something else than arranging the death of a man.
“And Faske?” asked Dacian. “Why did you kill him? Because he tried to steal the Galenia flower?”
“Oh, yes,” said Harriet pleasantly. “He was going behind my back with Kenneth. Judith was so kind as to tell me all about their little Poleney scheme, and so she signed the warrant for his death.”
“It wasn’t that,” interrupted Judith, who could hear the hollowness of the lie. Moreover, she had thought this through, and refused to take the blame. “You could have simply fired Faske and found another butler. You killed him because of your own miscalculation. That night when my companion attacked you, you retreated into the servant’s entrance as Kenneth, but the real Lord Garvey was in the house already. Perhaps in the confusion of it all, you let slip your disguise for a moment. Either way, Faske began to guess the truth: that you were not who you claimed to be.”
Frown lines marred Harriet’s brow, and she sighed. “You are right, I am afraid. Faske had the gall to covertly threaten me, in the greenhouse. I couldn’t have him voice his suspicions to Kenneth. And of course, his death by sword was convenient, seeing as the duke was around to take the blame.”
Judith felt a quiver of rage, but she tried to appear dispassionate. “What of Lady Garvey? Did you dispose of her too?”
The pale lips pursed regretfully. “Cordelia grew tiresome. She was approaching death anyway, so it was little matter to help her along. I had to intervene and arrange things to my satisfaction, for if she was known to die, then Kenneth would move into Garvey House immediately. She was so cruel to him - and to me as well. You know it yourself, Judith, how she lorded her position over me.”
Judith shook her head. “That is no excuse to take a life, or cast your sordid deceptions.” She paused. “How were you out in the fields by the conifers, to cast your tricks?”
Harriet smirked, the first sign of cruel mischief showing. “Oh, I wish I could have seen your face! I knew you were going to visit Selina, for you left the window open the evening before, at the inn. My vampiri companion overheard your plans and reported them to me. I simply cast a suitably amorous performance into a charm and sent Georgina to Southcott Hall to watch and wait. If you hadn’t walked home that afternoon, she could have said the word when you rolled past in the carriage.” The smirk sharpened. “Did you enjoy the show?”
Judith grit her teeth, remembering the glimpse of Georgina that she had seen at Southcott Hall. She had thought the girl was there to visit Selina, but she had been there on Harriet’s command. “You shouldn’t have involved Georgina in your vile plots, Harriet. Your time here is finished. You must let Kenneth take up his inheritance, and let Georgina out into the world.”
“And if I don’t do as you say?” Harriet’s smile turned cool. “I might be in breach of the old rules, but so is your precious duke. If you report me, he will also find himself under investigation.”
A silence fell. Judith stared at Harriet’s placid face, angry that she should try to blackmail them. Worse, she had a dawning suspicion that Harriet was right. Revealing her machinations would also bring to light Dacian’s slip in control, and his part in Lord Garvey’s death.
Dacian folded his arms. “I am afraid that your threat does not hold water, Mrs Bollopher.”
“And why is that?” Harriet turned to look at him.
“Because I am an agent of the Musor Custos.”
His words were calm. Only Judith heard the echo of a lie, and she kept her face impassive even as she admired Dacian’s quick wit. Harriet’s expression faltered from its benign patience into something like fear, creeping across her face like a cloud.
Dacian continued. “In my exile, an emissary of the Custos approached me to take on some of their duties. I am empowered to charge you with breach of the old rules. Primarily, with using your Gift to harm others and cause death.”
Harriet’s scrawny throat bobbed. “Is that so?” Her pale hands crept to dig into the side of the armchair.
“Yes, and I am imbued with the power to take you to the Warren. You well know that I have the strength to carry you there myself if needs be,” said Dacian implacably.
The clock ticked in the silence. Harriet’s hands dug convulsively into her skirts, her face crumpling, her shoulders bowing. Judith let out a sigh of relief: it seemed they were finally victorious. Yet she should have known better than to trust a villainous Illusor.
In the next moment, the image of a beaten old woman vanished, and in its place, they saw the small circle of a pistol. Harriet held it firmly, pointing at Dacian, even as he had begun to move forward.
“Stay where you are,” she said crisply. “Even your hasty Gift is not as fast as a gun, Sargen.”
Judith’s throat closed in horror, even as she heard Robert gasp behind her. At the window, black wings pummelled against the glass: Marigold, hopeless, outside.
They were all - even Dacian - useless in the face of a pistol.
“Yes,” said Harriet smoothly. “You think you are so clever and bold, with your evidence and tricks, but you have nothing to answer a bullet.”
Dacian stood very still. As if in a dream, Judith saw a vision of him lying on the drawing room floor, blood seeping from his body, his face blank with death.
“Judith.” His voice was like stone. “Robert. Both of you, leave now.”
“No,” said Robert shakily from the door.
Swallowing, Judith forced her limbs forward with slow steps. Harriet’s eyes darted towards her, and the gun trembled a warning.
Judith ignored it and stepped in front of Dacian. “You cannot shoot us both.”
“Can I not?” A faint smile pricked Harriet’s lips, yet the scratches on her cheek seemed to stand out more starkly. “It would be rather convenient, to tell the truth. I would rid myself of both of you in one blow. Perhaps your footman can line up behind as well. How far can a bullet travel through flesh, I wonder?”
“No,” said Judith. “Robert, please leave us.” Silence met her plea, thick with tension.
“Judith,” hissed Dacian. “Get out of the way. For God’s sake.”
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Judith caught sight of movement in the oriel curtains.
It was Wooten, his black head protruding from the maroon stripes. He must have somehow slunk inside, in all the comings and goings, perhaps behind Georgina’s skirts. Judith dared not focus her vision on him, but hope bloomed suddenly in her heart. Perhaps Wooten could help them.
As she glared into Harriet’s cold eyes, Judith could sense him inch out from under the folds of fabric, in his bat form. He began creeping along the cornice of the wall, keeping close to the ground, his wings folded tightly against his body. He had abandoned his purple dressing gown, no doubt reasoning that it would draw attention.
She had to keep Harriet’s gaze fully occupied.
“No.” Judith said over her shoulder to Dacian, while keeping her eyes locked with Harriet’s. “I will not let her shoot you. This way she will have to account for both of our corpses. That will be difficult to explain to Constable Carter.”
Harriet let out a huff of amusement. “Constable Carter will know nothing about it. As far as he is concerned, you will both return to London forthwith. I am good at hiding things, you know.”
Wooten had reached a bookcase against the wall with remarkable quickness. He vanished behind it. Judith, staring down the barrel of the pistol, was barely aware of it. Her heart was beating in her throat, and she knew that at any moment Harriet would grow bored of talking and pull the trigger.
Dacian stepped closer, coming right up against Judith’s back. One arm slipped around her waist, holding her firm. “This is a good way to die, at least - with a woman pressed up against me.”
Harriet frowned. Behind her, Wooten appeared at the base of the mantelpiece. From the corner of her eye, Judith saw him begin crawling up the smooth wood, using his clawed wings to haul himself upwards.
She wondered what he intended to do. Then her eyes drifted over the heavy, ugly candelabra that stood at the end of the mantlepiece above the armchair. It was made of brass. It could be fashioned as a weapon. If only Wooten could somehow tip it onto Harriet’s arm at the right moment…
Harriet was speaking with soft derision. “You always were a rake, your grace, but I know that you feel more than simple lust for this particular woman. It is your stupid passion that allowed me to manipulate you so easily. Fitting that you cling to it even in death.”
Judith was only half listening. She had realised Wooten’s dilemma at the same time as he reached the crest of the mantlepiece. To grasp the heavy candelabra, he would have to be human. And he had no clothes.
To his credit, Wooten did not hesitate, even as he stood exposed on the edge of the mantelpiece in the drawing room. He shifted into his human form: a slender male, with only a light fur on his chest to cover anything. His expression pained, he clasped his hands over his lower regions and edged towards the candelabra.
Dacian was talking. He must have seen Wooten too, but he kept his eyes fixed on Harriet. “Is that so? How did you guess that I loved her, even then?”
Judith, hearing the truth in his voice, felt her heart jump beneath her breastbone.
Harriet’s expression soured. “Everyone knew it, you fool. Except for her, of course.”
Wooten reached the candelabra. His face became anguished as he moved his hands to grasp it.
Judith took pity on him. She cleared her throat. “If I have only discovered it now, Harriet, you must allow me one last kiss before I die.”
Not waiting for permission, she spun slowly in the circle of Dacian’s arm, turning her back on Wooten’s nakedness. She raised her face to Dacian’s and kissed him, long and lingering. Behind her, she heard Harriet snort in disapproval.
It should have been agonisingly sweet, but Judith’s attention was too acutely focused behind her, fearing that any moment Harriet would shoot her in the back, and imagining Wooten wrestling, naked, with the candelabra.
She could feel Dacian’s other hand reach to clasp her own, fumbling, while she waited for Wooten to act.
“Enough,” grated Harriet. “Face your death now. I will shoot you regardless. Don’t think I won’t do it. I don’t have much time before Georgina comes back.”
Judith turned again, rotating slowly. She saw Wooten frozen, holding the candlestick like the Sword of Damocles above Harriet’s head. Why was he waiting? Did he hesitate to commit the solecism of hitting a lady on the head with a candelabra? Or was he afraid the gun would fire regardless?
“I’m surprised at you, Harriet,” said Dacian suddenly. “Is that nudity on your mantlepiece?”
A few things happened at once.
Wooten’s face became horrified. Harriet blinked and almost turned to look. Before she could do so, Wooten heaved the candelabra back and swung. And at the same time, a bank of yew hedge suddenly appeared to Harriet’s right. It was flush with red berries, and its sudden appearance was enough to startle her.
Even as this unfolded, Dacian twisted something on Judith’s finger. She heard him mutter a single word.
Veho .
Her body began to implode in on itself. The last thing she saw was Wooten forcefully crashing the candelabra down on Harriet’s head as she scowled at the yew hedge.
And the last thing Judith heard was the sound of a pistol shot.
Then the room vanished from view entirely, and she was wrenched through space into blackness.