A Split Worlds Omnibus

by Emma Newman

  “Miss Rainer was such a neat person—we could always rely on her,” Charlotte said, crouching down by the rug at the centre of the room. She flipped the corner over and revealed the joint between two floorboards. Cathy knelt down next to her. “She was always so particular about everything having its place, even this rug.”

  Charlotte was looking at what Cathy had thought was a knot in the wood but on closer inspection its edges were too uniform. It was a diamond-shaped hole between the two floorboards, large enough to put a finger into. She reached towards it, glancing at Charlotte for any protest and finding she was smiling at her, then tucked her finger into the hole. The section of board closest to her was easy to pull up, revealing a cavity underneath. There was nothing there.

  “She packed everything so neatly too,” Charlotte said. “I’m sure all of her other rooms were kept just as beautifully.”

  Cathy had a sudden memory of Rainer outside the house the last time she saw her and the diamond-shaped scar on her thigh. She’d spoken about something important in the floor. She snapped her fingers. “The floor in her old room! At my parents’ house! That’s what she was trying to tell me! They had her taken away so quickly she didn’t even have a chance to pack. I bet whatever it is she used to hide is still there!”

  Charlotte beamed and put the wood and rug back into place. “It’s so amazing, the effect a good teacher can have.”

  “It really is,” Cathy said. She frowned at Charlotte, trying to work out the nature of the curse. If she knew exactly what it did, she could see if the Shopkeeper had something to break it. “I don’t suppose you can tell me anything about the curse you’ve been placed under.”

  Charlotte giggled and covered her mouth in the same way as before. The curse was so powerful she looked genuinely amused, even though she must be raging inside.

  “I’ll work it out and I’ll find a way to have it broken, I promise,” Cathy said. “I’d like to have a real conversation with you.”

  “It’s a deep pleasure to be able to talk with you,” Charlotte replied. “I do hope we can do so again.”

  They said their goodbyes once they were downstairs and Cathy got back into the carriage with Carter. “Change of plan,” she said as she waved goodbye. “We’re going to Aquae Sulis. To my parents’ house.”

  “As you wish, your Grace.”

  She settled back in the seat and thought about how much Charlotte had been able to convey despite the odd conversation. She hoped Miss Rainer’s room was still relatively untouched and tried to imagine stepping foot in that house again. She’d hoped she’d never have to go back there; it held too many awful memories. Even though there had been the beginning of an understanding between her and her father on her wedding day it wasn’t enough to quell the dread of seeing him again on home territory. She looked at Carter, who smiled back at her. At least this time there would be no fear of being beaten.

  13

  Sam had opened the envelope in the entrance to the forge. After building himself up to it for days it had been an anticlimax. He’d expected a more personal letter from Leanne but there was just a small key and an address for a bank with a contact person. On the back of the piece of paper was something more cryptic, in her handwriting, saying “The lady will want to know where you proposed to me and the gift I gave you on our wedding day before she gives you access to the box.”

  He assumed it was a safety deposit box key. The security questions were surprisingly sentimental for Leanne but at least he knew the answers to them. Mr Ferran was away again and it was simply a matter of asking the butler to arrange a car so he could go back to Bath. He’d had a hire car in mind but wasn’t surprised when the chauffeur-driven limousine arrived.

  He found the right person at the bank and when he showed her the key she seemed to know that Leanne had died. Condolences were offered, he answered her questions and then was taken to a room away from the public areas, full of deposit boxes. He wondered what was kept in the others as his was unlocked. Stolen diamonds? Wills written by paranoid millionaires? He didn’t want to think about what would be in Leanne’s.

  The banker put the box on a small table and left him to remove the contents alone. He took a deep breath and lifted the top, finding another envelope inside with his name on it.

  It contained a short note, a plastic keycard and an address for a storage company, the kind of place that had different-sized lockers for hire.

  Dear Sam,

  Sorry to make you run around like this, but it’s necessary. Only you would know the answers to the security questions so I know it’s you reading this and I know I must be dead. I hope you’re all right. Everything you need to know about is at the storage place. When you go make sure you’re alone and that no one else knows where you’re going and why. That’s really important, darling.

  Leanne xx

  He thought of the limousine parked on double yellow lines outside. The storage building was a taxi ride away; he’d get rid of the limo, walk home and then order one. He tucked the keycard and letter back in the envelope and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket.

  Walking through Bath felt like being in a film set. He felt utterly detached from it. Sam rubbed the callouses on his hands with his thumbs as he walked, trying to work out what Leanne had been thinking when she’d set up the deposit box. What could possibly merit something so silly as all the cloak and dagger stuff? She hated Hollywood thrillers.

  He was tempted to not go to the storage locker. He didn’t want to find something that would shake him up again after he’d only just found something to drown out all the thinking.

  The “For Sale” sign outside his house made him stop. It felt like coming home and yet, at the same time, it felt like it wasn’t his any more. Holding both states made him feel exhausted. He needed a beer.

  Sam unlocked the door, trying to ignore the machine-gun fire of memories. The air in the house was stale and it already smelt unlived in. The removals company that Iron’s people had sorted for him had cleared everything out—including the hallway mirror, much to his relief—and cleaned it. He’d had messages that the estate agents had reported interest and were certain it would sell soon but he felt nothing. He was as empty as the house.

  He walked from room to room, listening to the echo of his footsteps. Then he called for a taxi. There was no point wallowing and putting off going to see what Leanne had hidden away. He needed it all to be over.

  Cathy looked out onto the streets of Aquae Sulis and reddened when she saw some Peonias stop and stare at her carriage. The ducal coat of arms was emblazoned on the door and she hadn’t appreciated how much attention it would attract. She’d assumed that they would just go through a Way to the stables outside Aquae Sulis and hire a carriage there, like anyone else would. But her footmen insisted on the Glamour to make the carriage exactly the same as her Londinium one, to ensure they were treated with the proper respect in the city. So much for a quiet flying visit.

  She saw Elizabeth’s face pressed against the window as the carriage stopped outside the house in Great Pulteney Street. Cathy couldn’t help but glance up at the top-floor room she’d been locked in before the wedding and the sight of it made her feel nauseous. One footman rang the bell whilst the other lowered the step and opened the door. Carter got out first—she was used to the drill now—and by the time she’d got out and straightened her clothes again the butler was at the door and Elizabeth was pushing past him.

  “Catherine!” she squeaked.

  Cathy endured the embrace Elizabeth forced upon her. “Hello.” Her sister had never pretended to be excited to see her, even after the years she’d spent in Mundanus.

  “What are you doing here? You didn’t say you were coming to visit. What’s it like being a Duchess? Can I come to the Londinium Court for the Season? Is there anyone eligible you want to introduce me to? How’s Thomas?”

  “Tom and Lucy are fine. Can I go inside?”

  Elizabeth tittered. “Sorry.” She notic
ed Carter, her large eyes going up and up until she reached his face. He made her look even more childlike.

  “That’s Carter, my bodyguard,” Cathy said. “Are Mother and Father at home?”

  “No, they’re with Uncle Lavandula.”

  Cathy brightened. “Ah, well, never mind. I just wanted to get a few things from my old room. I don’t have long anyway.”

  Elizabeth buzzed around her like an ambitious mosquito searching for the perfect spot to suck out what she wanted. Cathy felt exhausted by the time she got into the house. The scent and sight of the poppies in their vases made her stomach turn over. She had to get this done as quickly as she could.

  “I should offer you tea,” Elizabeth gasped.

  “I just had some,” Cathy replied. “Could you…go and send a brief message over to Uncle’s house to say I can’t stay and I do apologise? No doubt someone has told him about the carriage.”

  “I’ll get the butler—”

  “No, I want you to do it,” Cathy said. “It’s a family thing, after all. And you do have such beautiful handwriting.”

  Cathy watched her hurry off and thought back to the night Elizabeth told their father what Miss Rainer had been teaching them. She’d never hated someone so much and that old resentment was still there, buried under years of distance and the sure knowledge that Elizabeth would never appreciate—or even care about—the damage she’d done. Miss Rainer’s lessons had never managed to penetrate the thick fuzz of being constantly approved of for the most vacuous things. Elizabeth was perfect in the eyes of Society and Cathy had accepted a long time ago that there would never be any real relationship between them.

  She left Carter posted at the bottom of the stairs and headed for the nursery wing, checked no one was in sight and went into Miss Rainer’s old room. She knew her personal effects had been stripped out by the Agency staff so she was expecting it to be bare, but she still felt a tug of grief at seeing the empty bookshelves.

  Knowing there wasn’t much time, Cathy lifted the rug and searched for any diamond-shaped knots but the floorboards were pristine. She moved to the edges of the room, crawled under the dressing table and felt under the wardrobe, but all was smooth. As she ran her fingers under the bed she could hear Elizabeth calling her name downstairs. Her finger caught on the edge of something and a section of board lifted up. With a kettledrum heart she felt a sheaf of papers, pulled them out, stuffed them down her bodice, replaced the board and dashed out of the room on tiptoes as Carter was telling Elizabeth she was upstairs. She darted left and through the green baize door as Elizabeth started up the stairs. The tingle across her face made a grenade of childhood moments explode back into her memory.

  She was in her room with a doll in each hand by the time Elizabeth made it to the doorway. Whatever had been stashed beneath the bed was now prickling her skin with its creased edges but Cathy did her best to ignore it.

  “Why do you want those?” Elizabeth asked. “You never played with them.”

  “I thought they’d be a nice gift,” Cathy replied. “If Tom has a girl.”

  Elizabeth’s hands flapped. “Is Lucy pregnant?”

  “Not yet,” Cathy said. “I like to plan ahead.”

  “You might have a girl first,” Elizabeth said, coming to her side.

  “I doubt that,” Cathy said. “I’ll take these two. Mother won’t mind, they’re only gathering dust.”

  “Catherine…” Elizabeth began with a low voice. “What’s it like?”

  “What?”

  “When…a man…does…”

  “You mean sex?”

  Cathy got the scarlet blush she’d aimed for. “Why do you have to be so crass?”

  “I haven’t got all day, I told you that. Besides, you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “I’m going now.” Cathy plucked a third doll from the shelf and marched out of the room.

  “But none of my friends know anything and I can’t ask Mother.”

  Cathy stopped and faced her. “It all depends on who you’re with and whether they care about you. If you’re lucky it will be wonderful.”

  “And if I’m not?”

  Cathy shrugged. “Lie back and think of Albion. That’s what they tell you to do, isn’t it?” Elizabeth looked small and nervous. Cathy couldn’t remember ever seeing her this way. “You’ll be fine,” she said, feeling bad for brushing her off, but unable to bring herself to have such a conversation with her sister.

  “Will you come and visit properly soon?”

  “Probably.” Cathy hurried back into the Nether and down the stairs. “But I’m so busy, you know, doing…Duchess stuff.” She handed the dolls to Carter, who tucked them under one arm as if he’d been asked to carry dolls every day of his working life. “Take care. And give my regards to the parentals.”

  Elizabeth gave her a swift peck on the cheek. “It may cheer you to know that I’m horribly jealous of you. It’s a rather strange feeling.”

  Cathy didn’t know how to respond to that, so she kissed her back and left. Moments after she got back into the carriage she took the dolls from Carter and put them on the seat next to her. “Oh! I think I left my reticule in my old room. Could you ask Elizabeth?”

  Once he was out again she turned her back to the house and pulled out the pieces of paper. They were all the same: vouchers for something called a “book spa” at Mr B’s Emporium of Reading Delights. There was an address in the centre of Bath. She checked the back for any secret messages but there was nothing except a tiny star and the name “Jane” written in the top left corner of each one.

  She just had time to stuff all but one of the papers back into her bodice and tuck the single voucher into her reticule before Carter returned.

  “It isn’t in the house, your Grace.”

  “I found it.” She waved it at him. “Sorry, it was in the carriage the whole time, silly me.” She couldn’t go to a mundane bookshop dressed as she was and Carter would never let her go there anyway. “Let’s go home,” she said. It was time to take another risk.

  Sam looked for the right door inside the soulless warehouse. Everything was brightly lit and numbered but still felt abandoned. The keycard gave him twenty-four-hour access and there wasn’t even a person to check who he was. By the time he’d got to the right floor and found Leanne’s storage space he felt like the last man left alive.

  The keycard opened the door and he put it back in his pocket, then switched on the light. It was a five-metre-square cube containing about fifty cardboard boxes. They all had lids and handle holes, like the ones used by offices to store files. There was still space to go in and close the door. A couple of boxes sat in one corner with a large envelope resting on top addressed to him.

  His mouth was dry as he opened it. There were several sheets of A4 paper inside, the top one a letter in Leanne’s handwriting. He sat on the floor and leaned against the boxes to read it.

  Dear Sam,

  I’ve been writing these letters every three months for the last five years and I still find it hard. All of the others are in the envelope, the most recent on top, the first at the bottom. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away.

  So you’ll be wondering why I’ve made you come here in secret when I hate those kinds of films and it’s because I’ve been doing something dangerous. Now I’m dead (that’s still so weird to write) I have to tell you and that could make things dangerous for you too, for a short while. Just follow the instructions below and you’ll be all right.

  We’ve had a tough few weeks lately and it’s so hard not to tell you what’s been going on. I hope that when you know what I’ve been doing you’ll forgive me for not being there. I think the Brussels trip was the final straw for you and I’ve been finding it tough too. All the stuff in these boxes has driven us apart but it’s much bigger than the two of us. That’s a horrible thing to say but if you decide to read it I hope you’ll agree.

  I’ve been gat
hering evidence for a friend in an environmental group. He’s someone you met when we were at uni: Martin Barclay. I think you bought some gear off him once. Anyway, he and I cooked up a plan which came to fruition shortly after you and I got married: I got a job at Pin PR. His dad knew they were covering up stuff but all of his friends and family were known by CoFerrum Inc so they couldn’t infiltrate. They didn’t know me, so I went in with the plan to uncover some data, get it to Martin and his dad and blow the lid on it all.

  The more I found out the deeper I realised the cover-up went. Pin does the PR for CoFerrum and several other major international companies involved in the minerals and metals trade and they’ve been fucking up the planet and the people who work for them for many, many years. In these boxes is enough evidence to cause a scandal and embarrass them into stopping some of it. I just want to carry on a bit longer to see if I can get close to the famous Mr Ferran. He’s the kingpin and he’s bloody hard to get close to, but I think Neugent is one of his lieutenants so I’m hanging on and going as high as I can to nail him. Martin knows I want to play the long game and he’s persuaded his dad to let me do it my way, but when they find out I’ve died they’ll need to know what happened. His contact details are with the instructions. Please follow them so you’re not dragged into this any more than you have to be. CoFerrum is massively powerful and they’ve killed people to keep things quiet in the past. They may have done that to me—I might have just had an accident—obviously I don’t know at the time of writing this.

  Sam, I want you to know I love you and I’m sorry I put this before our marriage. I wanted to tell you, so many times, I really did, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself because I had to believe my own lie day in day out. Does that make sense? I couldn’t open up to you and then pack it all away every morning to go and pretend to be who I needed to be to get this evidence.