Heather cleared her throat, and they went silent. “Good evening everyone, I would like to introduce the newest member of our family.” One girl grimaced at this description. “Miss Violet.”
Five pairs of eyes looked at me with uninterested expressions.
I forced a small smile, directed mostly at Amelia, who was sitting further down the table. Thankfully, she smiled back. “Good evening,” I said.
Heather patted me on the shoulder. “Go help yourself. I will be along shortly.”
I whipped my head around to protest, but Heather had already gone in the direction of the kitchen. I clenched my fists at my side and took a seat across Amelia. She was looking slightly better than she had this afternoon.
The tension in the room was palpable. I let my mask of indifference fall into place as I took a bowl of soup and a piece of bread.
“Stick to the meat.” One man said quietly. “You’ll be needing the protein.”
I glanced at him. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t say it for you,” he shot back. “I just don’t want to see Amelia lose another roommate.”
I held in a gasp, noticing that Amelia’s face turned bright red, and took a slice of lamb.
The room was filled with the sound of clinking forks and knives. I looked up through my eyelashes at each of the attendees in turn. The man who spoke about the meat looked to be older than me, his short hair and beard tinted with a few gray hairs. He had broad shoulders that stretched his jacket to the limit. Beside him was a teenage girl with a gaunt face and watery eyes. She had two sweaters layered over her dress and still shivered. The teenage boy beside her was wearing gloves and fumbling to keep his soup spoon steady. His brown hair was starting to recede. Furthest down the table was a girl with long blonde hair. She was the only person at the table with some color to her cheeks, and I suspected it was makeup.
The blonde cleared her throat and pushed her empty plate away. “So anyway, as I was saying before we were interrupted.” She sent an icy glance in my direction. “I heard from Beatrice. I received her letter this morning. She says she’s doing well since retiring. Found a job as a seamstress for a Royal, apparently.”
The girl in the sweater nodded and murmured a reply.
Amelia whimpered, her trembling hands trying to butter a slice of bread.
The blonde clenched her teeth. “Oh Gods, what’s wrong now?” She spat.
Amelia hiccupped and dropped the knife with a clatter.
“Greta, please, watch your temper.” The bearded man hissed.
“What, just because Rose croaked, I can’t talk about my former roommate?”
Amelia gasped and buried her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook violently.
“Greta!” The other voices joined together.
Greta crossed her arms over her generous bosom. “What?” She said with a sniff. “She needs to get over it. Bloodletters die. It’s part of the risk, in case you haven’t noticed.”
My mouth went dry, and I struggled to chew the lamb.
Amelia made a strangled sound.
“Greta!” a new voice shouted. Heather was standing in the doorway with a platter of tarts and fruit. Her eyes blazed.
Greta didn’t shrink back. She stood and threw her napkin onto her plate. “I was just leaving anyway,” she said. “You can all enjoy the pity party.”
Heather didn’t stop her as the blond walked out of the dining room and stomped upstairs.
∾
I laid awake that night, despite my exhaustion.
Amelia arrived shortly after midnight. She was as silent as a ghost as she unpinned her hair, changed into a nightdress and slipped into bed.
I was facing the wall and pretending to be asleep as she settled in for the night. I chewed my lip, wondering if I should say something. The rest of dinner had been a somber affair. Heather tried to revive conversation, but all her attempts failed. I felt guilty being the replacement.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I rolled over to face Amelia. She was sitting up in bed brushing her long hair. “Hey,” I whispered softly.
Amelia jumped, her round eyes snapping open. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
I shook my head and sat up. “No. I can’t sleep.”
Amelia smiled softly. “I couldn’t either, my first few nights.”
“You’ve been here for a year, you said, right?” I asked.
She nodded. “A year, two weeks and four days.” She laughed bitterly. “Not that I’m counting.”
“Why did you come here?” I couldn’t help myself.
Amelia hesitated.
“I’m sorry, wasn’t my place.” I apologized hurriedly.
Amelia shook her head. “No, it’s ok. It’s just that I remember asking Rose the same thing.” Her voice shook but her face remained strong.
I went cold, remembering that this girl named Rose once slept in the bed I was laying in.
Amelia sighed and set her brush down. “I ran away from home last winter,” she explained. “My family lived in a town not far from the border of the Capital, in Chwetir. I knew that Blood Houses were always looking for fresh meat. Girls my age especially, according to the rumors I heard at school.” She sighed. “So, I snuck onto a train and made my way here. The first few Houses turned me away.” She glanced at me. “As you can imagine, it’s expensive to feed and house Bloodletters.” She shrugged. “But finally, while I was walking the streets, starving and exhausted, Heather ran into me while she was doing errands. She brought me back here, and that’s how it started.”
I was silent, letting her story sink in.
“Maybe it’s not the best fate, but it was better than being at home. My family was very poor, you see, and I had five other sisters. I was the oldest and my father was pressuring me to get married, but we had nothing for a dowry,” Amelia rattled on and I felt as if she was happy to get this story off her chest. “When I’m older, I’ll take my allowance from Madam and get married.” A small smile played around her lips.
I couldn’t help but smile back. I hugged my legs to my chest. “I hope that works out for you,” I said sincerely. I was out of practice when it came to speaking to girls my age. I was well versed in a typical light conversation at fundraising galas and dinner parties but finding a true connection with someone was something I had never been good at. All my life my best friend had been my mother, and now she was gone.
Amelia sniffed and wiped her eyes. “What about you?”
I started. Amelia hadn’t grown up in Wythtir and so she had no idea who I was. Who I used to be? I swallowed. To make an attempt at friendship, she deserved the truth. “Well,” I said slowly as I tried to form the story. “I’m from Wythtir. My father is a Minister.”
Amelia gasped.
“My mother died.” I paused and checked the clock. “Twelve days ago.” Fresh pain erupted in my heart; the feeling was still raw. “Anyway, my father, he always hated me. He never said it, but I knew he did. And he sent me here.”
Amelia let out the breath she had been holding. “Oh, Violet. I’m so sorry.”
I shrugged it off. I shoved the feelings away again. The tiny bed creaked as I stretched my legs out in front of me. I played with the cuff on my nightdress. I wondered why everyone else was here. Surely Bloodletting was not an ideal path for any of us, but here we were just the same.
Amelia yawned and settled down into bed. “Well, I would try to get some sleep if I were you,” she said. “Heather will run you ragged with training.”
I appreciated the warning. “Alright, good night.” I turned over and wrapped my quilt around myself.
Amelia laughed and whispered in a singsong. “Goodnight, sleep tight. Don’t let the Royals bite.”
FIVE
MY TRAINING WITH HEATHER STARTED AT DAWN.
I was shaken from my sleep with a firm hand. I bolted, gasping and nearly crying out before I locked eyes with her. She put a finger to her lips and gestured to Amelia, who was sleeping
peacefully. I followed Heather out of the room and down the hall to a communal washroom.
The floor was cold. I shivered in my cotton nightdress.
“For the first week, we will get you accustom to the House and do some testing,” Heather told me as she retrieved a bundle of clothes from a closet.
The sight of a plain black skirt, blouse, and apron made me wrinkle my nose in disgust.
“There will be none of that, Miss Violet,” Heather reprimanded before I could object. “Until you’re cleared for Bloodletting, you must earn your keep in other ways.”
Once I washed myself and dressed, Heather took me downstairs to the kitchen. There, the cook was busy preparing breakfast for the household. Roger, the butler, was supervising and reading a long grocery list.
The cook looked up from the dough he was kneading. “Good morning, Heather.”
“Good morning, Vincent,” Heather responded. She handed me a plate filled with food. “Here, eat up. We have lots to do today.”
I sat at the wooden table watching Heather and Vincent move about each other in an unrehearsed dance. Roger came and went, always muttering something under his breath. “Is it just the three of you in this big house?” I asked. I didn’t dare ask about the huge men who had vanished since I arrived; if I never saw them again, it would be too soon.
Heather looked over her shoulder. “No, there’s the coachman, Mr. McCray, he also takes care of the grounds. And the maid Miss Prescott, I’m sure you’ll see her around,” she explained. Her sleeves were rolled up, and she was elbow deep in dirty dishes. “Everyone around here does double duty.”
“Keeps us out of trouble.” Vincent laughed. He clapped his hands together and a cloud of flour rained down.
The cook and Heather exchanged a meaningful glance that I pretended to miss. I swallowed the last of my bread. “What am I going to do today?” I asked. My father was elected when I was five, so I had hardly had to lift my finger since. I spent my days studying, riding, and socializing. I had never scrubbed a pot in my life.
“I’ll take you with me to the market this morning, then you have an appointment with Dr. Coleman this afternoon,” Heather said, drying her hands.
I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Shopping? I could do that.
∾
Turns out, shopping wasn’t as easy as I thought.
Doing the grocery shopping for an entire household in a crowded market, even with the help of Heather and Mr. McCray, took hours.
By the time we returned, my blistered feet were aching in the leather boots that Heather had promised would be much more practical than the shoes I wore on my feet when I was whisked away. She also commented that I should be grateful that it wasn’t winter, or else I might not have come with all my toes intact.
I pried off the boots and sank down at the wooden table. The stone floor cooled my aching feet.
Vincent was humming and preparing soup for lunch. My stomach growled in response to the smell of beans, tomatoes, spinach, and spices. “How was shopping?” Vincent asked while keeping his attention of the simmering brew.
“Fine.” I groaned.
Vincent laughed; his belly shook. “So, not fine, then?” He snickered. “Oh, dear, I told Heather that a well-bred girl like you wasn’t used to work.”
I bristled. “I kept up just fine, thank you.”
“Well, I’d say that is a generous statement.”
I scowled at Heather as she walked in with a bag of flour under each arm. “Hey, I didn’t ask to be here, ok? I’m only here because –”
“Because of your father?” Heather cut me off, dropping the flour and dusting off her hands. “No, that’s not it is it? Madam told me; you know. You can leave anytime you want, she said. But you won’t because you’re scared.”
I bit my tongue. It was my first instinct to deny it, but she wasn’t lying. I sighed and traced a knot in the table with my finger.
“Don’t be so hard on her, Heather,” Vincent chided. “She’ll adjust, just like you did.”
Heather looked away, speechless.
Vincent poured a bowl of soup and set it down in front of me gently. “Here you go, dear.” He said. “Eat up. Folate, riboflavin, and B vitamins are all essential to keeping your blood healthy. I cook everything with a Bloodletter’s needs in mind.”
I ate the soup, grateful for the distraction from Heather. She slammed cupboard doors as she put away canned goods, jars of jam, pickles, and other preserves.
I stirred the soup, watching the kidney beans and barley circle around my spoon. Heather was right. I could have marched out of Madam Desjardins’ study and right out the front door if I wanted to yesterday. I could have run off when Heather turned her back to barter for eggs only an hour ago, but I didn’t. Madam was right. I had nothing to my name and nowhere to go. I needed her, for now.
∾
Late in the afternoon, Heather took me to a room to meet Dr. Coleman.
“The doctor is a Royal, so I expect you to treat him with the utmost respect,” Heather said. It was the first time she had spoken to me since snapping in the kitchen.
I nodded. Once I finished the rest of my chores, I changed out of the plain clothes and into a more presentable dress from my suitcase. I treated my blisters with salve before squeezing them back into my new boots.
The room was white and had a vinegary smell in the air. The radiator hissed and clanked in the corner. The furniture comprised a desk, two chairs, and a cot; white cabinets hung on the walls. Dr. Coleman was sitting in one chair. His thinning hair was salt and pepper gray. He was thin and dressed in white. He looked like one would expect a doctor to look, except for the intensity hiding behind his eyes.
“Good afternoon, Miss Violet,” Dr. Coleman said. His voice was gravelly and low.
Heather left without a word.
I was both grateful to be free of her and terrified of being handed off to the doctor.
“Don’t be afraid, child,” the doctor said. He pulled a pair of round wire-framed glasses from the pocket of his lab coat and cleaned them with a handkerchief. “Just a few pricks today, nothing to worry your pretty head over.”
I nodded, fidgeting in my boots.
The doctor gestured to the chair. “Take a seat, and we’ll start.”
The first half of my appointment was fairly routine. He asked about my health, my family, took standard measurements and all the other ordinary things one would expect at a yearly physical. One perk of being in a Minister’s family was having funded medical care. Mother had always reminded my brothers and me of this blessing every time one of us fell ill and received prompt treatment for ailments that other children perished from.
Dr. Coleman scribbled some notes down on his clipboard. When I responded he listened intently, tapping the board on his knee and making appropriate comments or sounds when I paused.
When I was sure I couldn’t give him any more information, he capped his pen. “Well, Miss Violet,” he said. “It sounds like you are in very good health and would make a great candidate to be a Bloodletter,” he explained. “Madam Desjardins rarely signs a contract sight unseen; however, based on your upbringing and medical history, I would agree that she made a fine choice.”
I managed a weak smile. I was sure he meant this as a compliment, but I felt like a prized pig being prepped for the slaughter.
The doctor stood. “Please lay down and expose both arms to me.”
I flushed. Dr. Coleman got right to business.
“Please don’t be bashful,” he added. “I’m a doctor. A professional, I assure you.”
With some difficulty, I rolled up my sleeves and laid down on the cot. The pillow felt as if it were stuffed with newspapers and the sheet had the same vinegary smell as the air. I watched the doctor open and close cabinets, filling a tray with instruments that I could only imagine would be as painful as they looked. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the clicking of metal and rustling of paper.
“Try to relax, M
iss Violet,” Dr. Coleman said.
I opened my eyes and felt my mouth go dry.
In the metal tray were needles, a syringe, rubber tubing, glass vials, and gloves. Dr. Coleman pulled on the gloves with a snap and pushed up his glasses with the back of his hand. “Have you ever had a blood sample taken before?”
I dumbly shook my head.
The doctor chuckled. “No, I expected not. Most affluent families are exempt from random sampling.” He sorted through his tools and I tried not to faint.
My body was trembling. It was taking all the willpower I possessed not to run screaming from the white room. I gnawed on my lip. “Will it hurt?” I croaked.
Dr. Coleman shook his head. “Not any more than a fly bite, if I do it correctly.”
I made a noise in my throat but couldn’t form words.
“Please relax, young lady,” Dr. Coleman instructed. “It will be over soon.” He attached the syringe and the tubing together and slipped it into a hole in the vial's lid. It was the oddest contraption that I had ever seen.
Dr. Coleman held my wrist with one hand and aimed the long needle towards my arm.
I saw stars and fainted.
It felt like only a blink when my eyes fluttered open a few minutes later. There was a cold cloth pressed to my forehead and my inner arm was wrapped in bandages. Dr. Coleman was sitting at the desk with his back to me. There were four of the vials on the desk, the fifth was in his hand.
I squeaked. My stomach turned at the sight of the dark red fluid. My blood.
The doctor turned with surprise. “Oh good, you’re awake. I was wondering when you’d come to. How are you feeling?”
“Fine, just a bit dizzy,” I replied and tried to sit up.
Dr. Coleman rushed to my side. “Ah, ah, ah!” he tutted. “We will have none of that. You just gave me a significant amount of blood. You need to rest.”
I grimaced and glanced at the vial in his hand. “How much?”
“Oh, not enough to cause any damage,” he replied. “But you will feel woozy for the next few hours, so please lay down.”
The Bloodletters Page 4
