Page 40 of The House of Quiet

Chapter Thirty-Three

A Bird Reunited

Birdie notices there are enough places set at the table this morning. Which means they do, in fact, have a new resident, because Cook would never set a place for Forest. She can’t perceive his existence.

Birdie sets the extra place for Forest. She wants to, so it isn’t difficult.

She lets her eyes drink him in as he sits, shoulders broad, back straight.

His simple white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, seems to only emphasize how beautiful his features are.

A canvas for the art of his face. He feels like a dream.

Like a miracle in a lifetime of relentless reality.

He meets her gaze, full lips twitching up at the corners. Before yesterday, she would have immediately looked away. But she doesn’t want to. And she can always do what she wants now.

He’d rather do anything than use his ability on the House Wife again.

Birdie understands. Maybe some of the House Wife’s strangeness is because of whatever he did to her brain.

Maybe Cook didn’t drink before that. Maybe their minds have been screaming at them this whole time that something’s wrong, but because they can’t understand it, they’re coping. Poorly.

But Birdie has no pity in her heart for either of them. Only for those they’ve hurt and will hurt. She won’t let Forest be on that list. She has time to come up with another plan. She’ll think of something before tonight; she’s sure of it.

Cook grumbles. “Where is he?” She’s awake this morning, but the bags under her bloodshot eyes are swollen and she keeps looking toward her bedroom, where she hides whatever spirits she’s drinking.

“I have to do everything around here,” she mutters, which makes Arrow laugh out loud.

Cook glares at her before stomping out of the kitchen to retrieve the new resident.

“Who do you think it is?” River asks.

“Who who is?” Dawn asks, pausing midway in spooning breakfast into Nimbus’s mouth.

Arrow gives River an exasperated look. They aren’t supposed to know someone arrived last night.

River shrugs. “There’s an extra plate at the table. I think someone new is in Sky’s room.” An easy enough explanation. River is better at this than the rest of them.

“Oh, how exciting!” Dawn’s interest spikes, so everyone looks at the door, rapt, waiting.

Birdie’s less influenced than usual. A new resident is a complication, not an exciting change. They’ll have to be more careful around whoever he is. The spoon misses Nimbus’s mouth, so Birdie fetches a clean napkin and doesn’t see the moment the new arrival appears.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice says.

Birdie whirls around, her stomach dropping as she takes in those bronze curls over his forehead.

His suit, slightly wrinkled from the journey.

And his hazel eyes, coolly appraising as he glances over the residents.

His mouth curls just a little in distaste, and Birdie follows his gaze to where Nimbus stares blankly ahead.

“ Hawthorn ?” Birdie asks.

Nimbus’s old tutor startles, whipping his head around to look at her. He clears his throat and then scowls. “Why are you addressing me so informally?”

Birdie dips a quick curtsy to cover her own confusion. “Apologies.”

“Yes, well, see that it doesn’t happen again, maid,” Hawthorn says, reverting to his cool, clipped tones.

Dr.Bramble must have been trying to get Hawthorn into the house, too. The tutor! River said one was coming. Of course the doctor didn’t pass up the opportunity. This is going to complicate things so much.

And not just in terms of Birdie’s goals.

She didn’t tell the others about her sponsor.

All she told them was of her search for Magpie.

Now she’ll have to admit that she’s supposed to pass information along to one of the architects of the procedure.

Someone who actually is in a position of some power in the south. How will Arrow feel about that?

Hawthorn clears his throat and looks back at the table. Once again his eyes barely glance over Nimbus. Why isn’t he upset to see his old charge here in this state? He was Nimbus’s tutor for years.

The answer is so obvious Birdie could laugh if she weren’t so sad and angry.

Hawthorn already knew what happened to Nimbus.

That was how Dr.Bramble was aware that things had changed in the House of Quiet and wealthy children were being sent here now.

In fact, Dr.Bramble might have had something to do with the letters that went out to the families, informing them of their children’s mandatory treatments.

Did he set this entire thing in motion from the very start just to create enough chaos within the House of Quiet to slip in not one but two informants?

Birdie seethes that they didn’t see fit to share any of this information with her. She’s not their partner; she’s their maid.

“Good morning! What’s your ability?” Dawn asks.

Hawthorn’s eyebrows pinch in alarm and disapproval. “That is an impertinent question to ask of anyone. One should always introduce themselves in a manner befitting their station, and wait an appropriate time before inquiring into any personal matters.”

Dawn rolls her eyes. “So your ability is being annoying. You really are the new Sky.”

“Young lady, I am your tutor . My name is Hawthorn, but you may all address me as ‘teacher’ or ‘sir.’?”

“Who is that?” asks Lake, but she’s not looking at Hawthorn as she points frantically at the wall.

“I’m your tutor,” Hawthorn repeats, slower this time. “You,” he says, jutting his chin toward Birdie. “Show me to the schoolroom.”

Birdie walks ahead of him. She wants answers. And maybe— maybe , always that maybe, some things never change—it will be good to have Hawthorn here. He can help them get through the door so they don’t have to use Forest at all.

But first they need to have an honest conversation, which will be difficult.

There’s a barrier between them. It’s clear in the way he closes the door behind himself and turns toward her, his demeanor instantly changing from stiff and formal to familiar.

But not familiar in the way of one friend to another.

Familiar in the way of an employer to a servant.

“Hello, Birdie,” he says. “I trust your time here has been productive?”

Birdie laughs, and Hawthorn once again looks shocked. Though not as shocked as he looked when he first saw her in the kitchen.

“In some ways, yes,” Birdie says. “In what we were actually hoping to find, not so much. But why did you act so surprised to see me in the kitchen?”

Hawthorn clears his throat and adjusts his tie.

He’s wearing his usual suit, with pressed trousers, a vest, and a tie over a white shirt.

He could almost pass for a junior minister, but he’s missing gold cuff links and buttons and the beard only wealthy men are allowed to grow.

The lower classes have to spend time and energy shaving every day or risk fines.

It’s an archaic rule that everyone gossips is going to change, but it never does.

“Well, I saw Nimbus, so I assumed someone here would spoil our connection to each other. I figured it was best if I do it myself.” That can’t be it. He’s going to keep withholding information. Fine. So is she.

“I can tell you who the rest of the residents are,” she offers.

Hawthorn waves dismissively. “I already know who’s here.”

Birdie holds back a glare. If the doctor and Hawthorn already knew who was here, they would have known that Magpie wasn’t in treatment anymore. And they still let Birdie come, full of hope.

She tucks that information away and continues as though she isn’t now wary of everything that comes out of Hawthorn’s mouth. “Sky’s father retrieved him already. He was accompanied by the minister of finance.”

“Your old friend,” Hawthorn says, raising an eyebrow above his round, copper-rimmed glasses. He’s fussily put together, handsome in a bland sort of way with his bronze curls and marble cold skin. She could see wealthy, bored spouses of wealthy, boring people being quite charmed by him.

She thought Hawthorn was on her side because he connected her with Dr.Bramble. But that benefited him, too.

Nimbus left the books out for Birdie to learn from. Hawthorn never did.

“Was the minister’s visit a problem?” Hawthorn asks. “Did you tell him about us?”

“We didn’t speak.”

“Interesting. Doesn’t that puzzle you?”

Birdie almost answers that it very much does, but then she realizes the truth.

If Forest could make the House Wife and Cook not even realize he’s here, couldn’t he do the same to his own father?

The way the minister’s eyes flicked right over her like she didn’t exist—it wasn’t a game.

It was because, to him, she doesn’t exist anymore.

Her heart swells with affection and gratitude. She might not like that Forest intervened without her permission when she went into the House Wife’s room, but no one has ever worked so hard to protect her.

Come to think of it, no one has ever deemed her worth protecting.

It seems prudent to deny Hawthorn information, the same way he’s denied her. She shrugs. “I’m so isolated here. I can’t hurthim.”

Hawthorn lets out an impassive hmm . “What else?”

What else? What else can Birdie tell him that doesn’t give away any of her friends’ secrets?

She tries to want to please him. She can’t manage it.

If he can help her, fine. Otherwise she has no use for him.

“Nothing else matters. We need to get into the House Wife’s room to see her records.

Magpie isn’t here, and I want to know where she went after treatment. ”

Hawthorn doesn’t respond. He clasps his hands behind his back and walks slowly around the room as though studying it. “The minister came at night, correct?”

“Yes,” Birdie says.

“Has anyone ever come during the day?”

Birdie shakes her head. “No.”

“Is there any discernable schedule?”

“I heard the driver say he’d be back next week. That’s all I know.” She leaves out that it was Arrow who overheard it, and also omits the detail of the tea warning.

Hawthorn’s eyebrow rises once more. “You were spying last night?”

“I do my job,” Birdie snaps.

“Good girl.” His pronouncement feels like a pat on the head for a pet who’s performed a task. Hawthorn pauses, then steps close to her, invading her personal space. The maid he thinks she still is wouldn’t stand her ground. She grits her teeth and pretends, taking a step back and lowering her eyes.

“The third maid, Rabbit,” Birdie says, her throat tight. “Something the House Wife did killed her. Do you have more information about what happened to Magpie?”

He sighs. “We honestly thought you’d find her immediately. Your connection to her is the only reason we chose you. It’s very disappointing. Nothing has gone according to plan.”

For the first time, Birdie believes he’s telling the whole truth. Instead of reassuring her, it chills her in a way she can’t explain. If he didn’t even care about his own former pupil’s condition, why would he care about a maid’s lost sister?

Before she can think better of it, she speaks up. “And the other children, the ones from the north. Do you know why they were sent here for treatment?”

Hawthorn’s answer is measured, like he’s weighing each word and adjusting so none have more impact than others. “What makes you think northern children were ever here?”

Not an admission that he knew, but it’s obvious. If they already had this much information, why send her at all?

“The rooms on the second floor. There was evidence of them left behind.”

“That’s not good,” he says, voice laced with disapproval. Not good that there was evidence, or that children from the north were here?

“Is that what Dr.Bramble wants evidence of? Misuse, so he can close the House of Quiet forever?” Maybe Birdie should tell Hawthorn that the minister of finance is trying to take over and move everything to another facility on the coast.

Hawthorn takes another step back. She realizes his glasses are just glass, serving no purpose.

Worn as a costume. There’s a flash of naked greed and cunning in his eyes no fake glasses could ever mask.

“We don’t want to end the House of Quiet, Birdie.

We want to understand it. That’s the important thing. Can we still count on you?”

“Of course.” She dips a curtsy so he doesn’t see her absoluterage.

That’s what this is all about. The doctor and Hawthorn don’t want to help anyone.

They want to learn the secrets of treatment to use as leverage.

The papers she stole listed the staggering amounts of money the wealthy families were charged.

Hawthorn doesn’t want to destroy the minister of finance; he probably wants to become him.

And doubtless Dr.Bramble has his eyes on becoming the minister of health and progress.

If he can control both ends of things—the procedure and the treatment for when it goes wrong—who could tell him no?

Birdie withheld the minister of finance’s plans, but she would bet anything Dr.Bramble already knows about the upcoming change and the rush to gather information is because of that.

Birdie’s been such a fool. Men like Hawthorn and Dr.Bramble are trying to leave Birdie’s class behind forever. Of course they’d never care about helping her or anyone like her.

“One more thing,” Hawthorn says, picking up a pencil and pushing his finger against the tip. “None of the others know about me, or Dr.Bramble, or your connection to us. Right?”

“Right.”

Hawthorn nods. “See that you keep it that way.”

She intends to.