by Emma Newman
It wasn’t working; the people didn’t have the financial means to move and were offered no help to do so. People were suffering from dozens of pollution-related illnesses and the average lifespan was over ten years lower than the national one. At first he couldn’t see why Ferran was interested in the place, but then realised the cheap coal was used nearby in iron ore production.
Sam memorised the name of the village, the companies involved and the names mentioned in her report, then slid it back into place. He put his rucksack back on, kissed his fingers and pressed them to her lips in the photo and then left, locking his letter in with her legacy.
30
Cathy didn’t dare sit down. If she did, she’d fall asleep. They’d brainstormed ideas, welcoming Will into the discussion after he’d snatched a couple of hours’ sleep and agreeing on what should be announced at the Court that day. Occasionally she’d had to sit back and take a moment to realise it was actually happening. Miss Rainer was restored, Charlotte was free of the curse her husband had placed upon her, and Margritte and Will were working together. She felt exhausted and elated, excited and terrified all at once.
She looked at the clock. It was five to ten in the morning and Dame Iris would be arriving any moment. “Carter, could you check that Morgan has everything ready for the Dame’s visit?”
He left and she began to pace. When she heard the sound of horses’ hooves she went to the window and saw the Dame’s carriage entering the driveway. Cathy smoothed down her dress, feeling sick. It wasn’t one the Dame had commissioned on her behalf and it was bound to be the first thing she commented on, but being able to breathe easily was worth it.
“Everything is ready, your Grace,” Carter said. “The Dame won’t see anyone or anything out of the ordinary.”
Managing a nervous smile, Cathy peeped from behind the curtain as the carriage stopped and the footman helped the Dame to step down. She still hadn’t decided how she was going to start the conversation. As the clock struck ten the doorbell rang and Cathy fiddled nervously with her gloves as she heard Morgan escorting the Dame down the hallway.
“I won’t let her do anything to you,” Carter whispered.
There was a single knock on the door and Morgan entered. “Dame Iris,” he announced and she entered in her usual haughty manner.
“Dame Iris,” Cathy said and curtsied.
“Good morning, Catherine. I was heartened to receive your invitation, despite the inconvenience of the hour. It’s quite refreshing to be invited rather than—” She stopped and frowned at Cathy’s gown. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, child, I thought we’d progressed past my having to select your outfits for the day. Do you intend to wear that to Court?”
“Yes, I do. Would you like tea?”
The Dame sniffed. “It is the height of laziness to receive a guest for morning tea in the same gown one intends to wear to Court. As you can see, I have taken the trouble to dress appropriately and will have the inconvenience of returning home to change before going to the Tower.” When Cathy didn’t reply, the Dame pursed her lips and said, “Well, inappropriate attire or no, to business.” She reached into her reticule as Cathy watched, realising the Dame was going to drive the conversation whatever she said. She didn’t seem to have noticed that Carter had remained inside the room and was standing by the door. Perhaps she had, and was simply demonstrating how expert she was at ignoring the servants.
“I understand Nathaniel is the Chancellor of Oxenford now.”
“Yes.” Dame Iris smiled as she pulled out a small pair of opera glasses. “He’ll bring that archaic city into line in no time. I trust William is settled?”
“Yes,” Cathy replied. “He’s resting.”
The Dame held the glasses up and looked through them at her. Her lips thinned into a disapproving line. “Still not pregnant, I see. Really Catherine, is it so difficult?” She folded the glasses closed and dropped them back into the reticule. “Perhaps I should be more sympathetic. After all, it must be a chore for William to have to do his duty with such a plain girl.”
Cathy dug her nails into her palms, taking a breath to speak but the Dame was already fishing something else out of the bag.
“You need to drink this. You’ll fall pregnant the next time he exercises his marital rights. As it’s extraordinarily expensive and rather rare, I wish you to drink it in front of me. Then I can be certain you haven’t failed to do that either.”
“Dame Iris,” Cathy said, taking the small glass bottle from her. “It may come as a surprise to you, but I didn’t invite you here to belittle me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yes, I thought you’d find that difficult to understand.” She raised the hand holding the glass bottle and then let it drop from her fingers. It smashed when it hit the edge of the table. “That’s what I think of that.”
For a few seconds the Dame just stared, open-mouthed, at the liquid dripping onto the rug below.
“If Will and I do decide to have a child it will be on our terms. I’m not going to let you make me feel inadequate any more. You’re nothing but a bully, using your power to make all of the women in the Iris family terrified when you should be doing all you can to protect them from Lord Iris and this shitty Society we’re forced to live in.”
“How dare you!” The tip of Dame Iris’ nose had turned an interesting shade of pink. “You insult me and make it clear you intend to disobey our Patron? I underestimated how irretrievably stupid you are.”
“You did underestimate me, but don’t feel bad—everyone else does. I’m not going to do anything you tell me to any more. I’m not going to thread another sodding embroidery needle. I’m not going to spend another minute of my life listening to you and your cronies keeping the pecking order with gossip and social cruelty.”
“What gives you the right to speak to me like this?”
“Knowledge. I know what you did to get the power you have now.”
The Dame’s lips closed and she drew herself up to her full height. Her hand was swinging for Cathy’s face before she’d even registered the movement, but Carter caught her wrist and turned her hand palm up. A tiny needle was poking from the inside of a gold ring.
“I saw her twist the ring, your Grace,” Carter explained as the Dame cried out. “It could be poison or a curse.”
“You’re well-versed in curses, aren’t you?” Cathy said. “You should know that I’m wearing a gift from my husband that will protect me from any Charms that you try to use on me, including the Fool’s Charm. My bodyguard is also protected, as you might expect.”
“This is unacceptable! Unhand me, you awful man!”
Cathy shook her head at Carter and he kept hold of her wrist. “You cursed the former Dame Iris to always speak the truth. It might seem harmless, but in the Londinium Court nothing could be more destructive.”
“What nonsense is this?”
“But you only cursed her after you’d wheedled your way into her husband’s affections and all but convinced him that his wife was going mad. It happens, after all. Some people can’t cope with life in the Nether. I imagine you said something very like that to him.”
“I…I did nothing of the sort.”
“You put a thought in his head and then cursed her just before a critical soirée. You played the concerned friend, rushing to find him as the curse forced her to say things we all might think but would never say. You convinced him she had to be removed, that Lord Iris wouldn’t stand for anything but perfection, after all.”
She’d given up denying it and had started to look like she might faint. Cathy didn’t put it past her to fake that, though, so she pressed on. “You might be wondering how I could know all this.”
“I won’t ask because it isn’t true.”
“Eleanor told me herself.”
The Dame shuddered and her gasp was so sharp that Carter put his other hand on her shoulder, readying himself to catch her.
“She’s still cursed, you see. S
he still can’t help but tell the truth. I offered to lift it from her—yes, I could do that, if I wanted to—but she refused the offer. She’s amazing. She said that being known as a truly honest person is remarkably liberating.”
“She’s dead,” the Dame whispered. “You’re lying.”
“There was someone else you underestimated: your husband. He loved her and he couldn’t bring himself to kill her, so he had her taken away to a secret asylum. You’ll be finding out a lot more about that very soon—if you choose to come to Court now. You do look rather unwell.”
“I will see to it that Lord Iris punishes you himself.”
“No, you won’t. Because if you do anything like that, or try to curse or Charm me ever again, I’ll tell Sir Iris all that I know. And what’s more, I’ll reunite him with his first wife.”
“I refuse to be treated with such disrespect! Call your dog off me! How dare you accuse me of something so preposterous!”
“You still don’t believe me?” Cathy nodded. “We thought you’d find it hard after all these years of being queen bee.” She went into the hallway and called for Eleanor, who came out of the room next door, her face flushed with excitement.
“Is it time for my dramatic entrance?”
“Yep.”
Carter let Dame Iris turn, but still kept hold of her wrist. Eleanor came to the doorway, dressed in a fine black velvet gown, her white hair arranged in a luxurious loose bun of the Edwardian style.
“Rumours of my death—” Eleanor began but Dame Iris collapsed in a dead faint before she could finish the line. “Well, how irritating. I’ve always wanted to say that.”
Carter laid Dame Iris on the sofa.
“Well, I think she’s convinced now,” Cathy said. “Eleanor, I really do think you should take up my friend’s offer to stay with him. He’ll be able to protect you better than anyone else.”
“That smartly dressed young man everyone’s been talking about? I may well do that. I imagine she’ll be keen to do something despicable to keep me secret. You need to be careful too. You’re making a lot of enemies in a very short period of time.”
Cathy nodded. “I know. Carter, keep an eye on her. I’ll send for her footman and they can take her home. If you’ll excuse me, Eleanor, I need to get ready for the Court.”
From her bedroom window she watched the Dame being carried into the carriage and reviewed the confrontation. She could get used to standing up for herself. But she wasn’t going to gloat; both the Dame and the Agency would be seeking to have her removed now. Even though Sam had promised to protect her if Lord Iris summoned her, she knew it was only a short-term solution.
“How did it go?” Will asked from the doorway.
“Well, I think. She fainted anyway. I’ll take that as a win. Carter was ace.”
Will looked tired, but his injuries had been dealt with by a Charm—either glamoured or healed, she wasn’t sure which one. “You look beautiful,” he said. “Tackling Dames evidently suits you.”
“So do you. Have you heard anything from Nathaniel?”
“No. I imagine he’s too embarrassed to admit he’s lost his first prisoner.”
“He won’t be too embarrassed to hunt for her though.”
“No, but I’ve given Margritte a powerful Shadow Charm. She’ll be safe until we think of a better long-term solution.”
Cathy smiled as he came towards her. “You must have spent a small fortune on Charms in the last twenty-four hours.”
“It’s no trouble,” he said and kissed her tenderly. “So how does it feel to be a force of chaos and destruction?”
She laughed. “Brilliant, actually. Is it time to leave?”
“Yes. Charlotte’s already gone ahead. It’s quite a team you’ve put together.”
“Do you think we can do this, Will? Do you think we can actually change things?”
“We already have,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to do everything we want before Lord Iris intervenes or the Patroons mobilise against us, but we’ll give it a good try. Are you ready?”
“No.” Cathy rested her head against his chest, allowing herself a moment of comfort. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be.”
They rode to the Tower in silence, sitting side by side, her fingers laced between his. She tried to think through what she was going to say and the possible responses and the ways she could handle each one, but it soon unravelled into nebulous fears. She thought of Sophia and whether to talk to Will about her theory about his uncle but decided it wasn’t the right time. And what use would it serve him to know anyway?
She wondered how Josh was and whether he’d found happiness. She remembered when she’d thought she was in love with him, and knew now that it wasn’t real. She squeezed Will’s hand, felt him squeeze hers back, each comforted by knowing the other was there. He wasn’t the man she’d wanted to marry but somehow they were making a life together. Did he really say that he loved her, the night before? Was that possible?
She thought of the third wish and what Poppy had said. What was her true potential? Could anyone really know before they’d fulfilled it? All she knew was that it felt like she was going in the right direction and no one had stopped her yet. She wondered if the magic had made Will so agreeable to her ideas and decided to put that from her mind. There was no way to know and she didn’t want to destroy something wonderful with her neurotic doubts. He’d realised they had to move forward now and he was supporting her.
They arrived and went to the private antechamber. She picked a thread off his sleeve and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He gave a nod to the page and the doors were opened onto the Court.
“The Duke and Duchess of Londinium.”
They entered and walked past the residents of the city, each bowing and curtsying as they passed. They reached the gilded chairs and sat. Cathy sought out Charlotte in the crowd. She felt better when their eyes met and Charlotte gave her a look of absolute confidence.
“Many of you may have heard rumours that Oxenford has a new Chancellor,” Will began. “I can confirm this is true.” He paused as a murmur passed through the assembled. “As a new era begins for that city, so does a new era begin for Londinium. You know I’m a man of change. You know I’m not afraid to make promises and see them through. I’ve made the roads of this city safe and returned cherished jewels to many of you in this room. It’s time to make more changes, some of which have never been seen in Albion. You have my word that these are not embarked upon lightly, nor will they be made without the interests of the people of this city at heart.”
He looked at Cathy and she knew it was time for her to speak. “I know it isn’t customary for the Duchess to address the Court, but, as William said, things are going to change.” She stood as looks of surprise, indignation and doubt were exchanged in the crowd, and waited a moment for them to settle again.
Cathy felt a rush in her chest, a sure knowledge that everything had been building to this moment, this opportunity with boundless repercussions. There was no fear. There was no doubt. Only potential.
Acknowledgments
It’s inevitable that the same names will crop up here, seeing as this is the third in a series, but that doesn't mean those people shouldn't be mentioned again. As before, thanks to Lee Harris and my agent Jennifer Udden for comments and encouragement about the book in its early forms. Thanks, always, to Peter for listening, commenting, checking the manuscript for stupidity and keeping me sane when the Fear was at its most horrible.
The fondest of memories and thankfulness go to Kate for arranging the research trip to Lincoln College in Oxford on top of all the other support and general brilliance she gave me during our friendship. Rest well, darling. I miss you.
Speaking of that trip, I'd like to thank Laura Broadhurst who was kind enough to give us a tour of Lincoln College and answer all sorts of questions that might well have seemed odd at the time!
Thanks to my friends a
nd family for supporting me through the new and…interesting territory of trying to finish a book whilst launching the first in the series.
And my last but not least goes to the fine people who have read the Split Worlds series, blogged about it, tweeted about it, said lovely things on Facebook and contacted me to say how much they've enjoyed it. Thank you, a thousand times, thank you. Knowing that I've made people love, worry about and shout at the characters who have been resident in my head for such a long time has given me the deepest pleasure.
EMMA NEWMAN writes dark short stories and science fiction and urban fantasy novels. She won the British Fantasy Society Best Short Story Award 2015 and ‘Between Two Thorns’, the first book in Emma’s Split Worlds urban fantasy series, was shortlisted for the BFS Best Novel and Best Newcomer 2014 awards. Emma is an audiobook narrator and also co-writes and hosts the Hugo-nominated podcast ‘Tea and Jeopardy’ which involves tea, cake, mild peril and singing chickens. Her hobbies include dressmaking and playing RPGs. She blogs at www.enewman.co.uk and can be found as @emapocalyptic on Twitter.
If you want to go deeper into the Split Worlds, go to www.splitworlds.com where you can sign up to a newsletter and find over fifty short stories set in the Split Worlds!
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