Raven ran onto the Duke’s shoulder and inserted her piece of parchment in-between his eyes and his book. The interruption was taken with good humor.
“Very nice, Raven,” Alban said. “I’m not going to try guessing what it is, although it does look rather like an artistic rendering of a particularly fine game of ‘round and round the Mulberry Bush’.”
Raven sat there, head on one side, tail twitching, and seemed quite at a loss to decide whether she’d just received a compliment or not.
“I’m sorry she’s using so much ink,” I said after a while, rather absent-mindedly.
The Duke laughed. “No matter. What’s on your mind, anyway?”
“Oh, it’s just the house, you know,” I replied. I opened my mouth to continue, then stopped as a really rather embarrassing realization struck me. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Oh. I’ve just realized that I’ve been rather a silly fool. You’re Ma’s husband so...it’s not my house, is it? It’s yours.”
“Ah,” said the Duke, the slight lines of strain appearing around his eyes as they always did when we spoke of my mother. “Well, you’re right that’s the usual thing. But she left the house to you, along with everything else. She wouldn’t have wanted me to get my hands on so much as a tea spoon. Of course, if I wanted, I could hire a good law clerk and they could no doubt eventually untangle everything in my favor. But your mother’s wishes are quite clear. The house is yours.”
I felt somewhat relieved. I didn’t need a house, but...
“I was wondering,” I said, “were you going to give me some sort of allowance?”
He gave me a mildly intrigued look. “I imagine so. I hadn’t noticed you needing money just yet, that’s all. Why the sudden curiosity?”
“Well, nothing urgent,” I said. “It just occurred to me that I could turn the house into a home for urchins, but I’d need to employ a certain number of people for that.”
“And you want to pay the wages from your allowance?” inquired the Duke, with a slight smile.
I couldn’t help blushing. I might be a Duke’s daughter, but I still knew I was talking about a very respectable allowance, especially if I was to have any money for myself.
“I’d make it as self-sustaining as possible,” I said slightly defensively, my mind already teeming with ideas. “But that wouldn’t cover everything, and not to start with.”
The Duke smiled again, a rather secretive, knowing smile this time, and stood up. “Come into the study and let me show you something.”
I followed dutifully. From his desk he picked up a sheaf of parchment and began flicking through it.
“The house was your mother’s main possession,” he told me, “but there were one or two little things, the most significant being a small area of land from which she received most of her income.” He drew out a document. “This also belongs to you. I think it would supply you with ample funds to start and maintain your home. I’ll still give you an allowance, but that will be for you.”
I took the parchment and held it near the hearth in an attempt to make out the heavy, legal English. The figures were easier to read, and they delighted me.
I really would be able to turn it into a home!
~+~
CHAPTER 16
GRACE
The following morning I took advantage of my father’s post-breakfast retreat to his study and made my way down to the church. The purse containing the first installment of my new allowance nestled in my pocket. I was pleased and slightly relieved to find Father Francis on his own.
“How can I help you, my child?” the old priest asked, when I sat beside him on the wall bench.
I rubbed the fat little purse. “I was hoping to have some Masses said.”
“Of course,” the old man replied. “Naturally. How many were you thinking of?”
Determinedly, I set the entire purse in his hand. “As many as this will cover.”
Father Francis hefted the heavy purse, looking startled. “It is Masses for the dead that you want, child?” he exclaimed rather incautiously. “Surely you do not feel that your mother...” He stopped abruptly as my face froze.
I bit my lip, struck by a wave of guilt. I hadn’t even thought of Masses for my mother! “It...wasn’t my mother I was thinking of,” I admitted in a low voice. “But of course, I would like...”
The priest held up a hand to pause my stumbling words. “A Mass is said for your mother in this church every week and has been for the past four years,” he informed me.
I nodded my satisfaction with this, feeling much better. Of course my father would not have overlooked such things.
“And what is the name of the person you would like Masses said for?” the old man asked gently.
“Siridean.”
“Siridean,” echoed the priest. “That’s an unusual name. Are you, ah, in some doubt about his state of grace?” He glanced meaningfully at the full purse.
I bit my lip again. “He helped me,” I said rather haltingly. “I think...I think he saved my life. I don’t think I’d have survived without him. But then he...died. And...” I frowned fiercely as I wrestled with the memories of something that had never quite made sense.
“Well, I don’t think he was very well,” I said at last. “I think he’d done bad things, really bad...but, I don’t know how much was his fault.”
The priest gave me a narrow look. “Not his fault?”
I took a breath. “I think he was possessed.”
There, I’d said it. I’d thought about it over and over again; the memory of the look he’d turned on me and the feeling of pure evil that had filled the room had never left me... It didn’t explain how he’d died, but I’d long since concluded that it was surely the only explanation for the rest.
I feared Father Francis would laugh at me, but after looking at me for a moment, he just asked softly, “Did he hurt you?”
“No! No, he took care of me. He was kind! He wasn’t bad, I’m sure he wasn’t, but...” I hesitated, as confused as ever, thinking about it. “I just want him to be all right,” I whispered at last.
Father Francis laid a soothing hand on my head. “Now, child,” he murmured. “Our Father in heaven knows the true worth of each one of us. You may let your Siridean rest safely in his hands.”
I nodded jerkily. “But you will say the Masses?”
The old priest smiled. “Of course, child.”
I sank back against the cool stone wall for a moment. It felt as though an old weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Pray for me, Siridean had requested, the only thing he had asked in return for his care and teaching and worldly wealth, and I had, over the years, diligently. I’d always longed to have Masses said too, but you had to provide an offering for the priest, who could not, after all, live on air, and I’d never had any spare money. But now I finally did.
After a moment, I rose to go but stopped abruptly. “Father, you must know why my mother left?”
The priest lifted his hands in gentle protest. “Now, my child, anything I might or might not have had in confession I cannot pass on, you know that.”
But something about his expression made me think that he did not truly know. Had my father’s explanations to him on that subject never been what you might call complete?
I did not miss the concern that mingled with the perplexity on his face. “Did he do something?” I asked softly.
Father Francis shook his head at me. “I do not know, child, I do not know.”
~+~
CHAPTER 17
A HORSE OF MY OWN
On the whole I could not decide whether to be aghast or relieved. Every room of my childhood home had been redecorated in some overdone approximation of the latest fad. If someone had led me in blindfolded, I would scarcely have realized that this was the house in which I had grown up.
And it was for the best. I felt a bit treacherous somehow, to think that, but think it I did. I could look at these rooms wi
thout pain, without memory sharpening in my mind. What I had on my hands was merely a useful building on Aldersgate Street, not a place with which I had any emotional connection.
I was halfway down the stairs when another thought struck me and sent me running for the stables.
Tulip!
I reined in my run as I approached the stables, admonishing myself sternly. She won’t be here, I told myself. She was too valuable.
Still, my heart was in my mouth as I circled the stable courtyard, looking into one stall after another. But no little dapple-grey mare stood prancing eagerly within. I sat on the mounting block for a moment to recover my equilibrium. So, Tulip was gone and had long been carrying some other keen youngster on her back. That was that. Tulip, too, had long since been mourned and forgotten.
Wait a minute… I stood up and brushed down my skirts, before moving back to the last stall and looking in again. I say! A giant stood within, giant and black, like a Warrior in his younger days. Or perhaps not quite, for this animal’s mane was extremely long, and the gaze that was turned on me was steadier. ‘Velvet,’ said the name plaque on the stall door.
This one, I would give to my father.
~+~
My urchin home came into being with surprising speed and lack of hassle. My father helped me interview people for the various positions, and after only a brief tussle with my uncle over the last four years of rents from my mother’s land, I was able to fit out the house as necessary. My father sent the ancient ambler he had originally inflicted on me down to serve as a first horse for the would-be grooms to learn on, claiming that the animal would like to be doing something. Soon, with all the staff and furniture installed, I set about filling the place.
Urchins were suspicious, if not outright paranoid, and usually with good reason, but it was still easily done. I went into rough areas with a carriage full of bread and soup (and an army of hefty footmen, my father’s doing), playing the empty-headed, naive, well-meaning rich girl, my silk dress all the disguise I could possibly need. No one recognized me. I babbled amiably as I distributed the food, and when I came back day after day, the urchins were soon waiting for me.
I told the girls all about how this great new home was firstly for girls, and how if they knew any they should tell them where it was, since all they had to do was turn up at the front door. Feeling superior to me, feeling they had triumphed over me by concealing their true gender, and so extracting the precious address, the first few girls quickly arrived at the door of the home.
When all the girls were gathered in, I filled it up with boys, although a boy would always be demoted to a day attender if another girl were to come to the door. Soon the place was heaving, especially during the day, and I hastily took on more servants to teach (and control!) them all.
~+~
I looked with keen attention at the passing streets. My father had been very mysterious about the purpose of our outing today. When the carriage turned into Smithfield I held my breath, hardly daring to hope—it was the day of the horse market. The carriage drew to a halt.
“A horse! Is it a horse for me?”
“Indeed,” he said, with a touch of amusement for my enthusiasm.
I could barely keep myself in the carriage until my father had dismounted, and I scarcely touched his hand in descending. A horse! A horse of my own again!
I took my father’s arm demurely, giving him a shining smile that brought a gleam of pleasure to his eyes.
“You’re having a gelding, by the way,” he informed me. “I am already quite decided on that.”
“I had a mare before,” I pointed out, but I wasn’t concerned.
“Yes, and from what you tell me I can scarce believe Isa...your mother was so foolish as to let you have such an animal.”
“Well,” I said, unable to entirely suppress smugness, “Ma wasn’t exactly a judge of horse flesh. If it stood still while she was looking at it, she assumed it was quiet.”
To my surprise, my father laughed at this confession. “I won’t,” he told me, making me laugh as well, and we started to walk along the lines of horses.
I knew better than to choose a horse by color. All the same, I had to admit that after seeing my father’s new horse, that gentle giant with a flowing mane and tail, as dark as Warrior, my imagined horse did seem to have a black coat.
“We’ll look at the blacks,” said my father, when I admitted my preference to him.
Pleased, I walked with him along the line until we found a black, but we both looked at it and pronounced it no good. The next was far too big, the one after that, would you believe, too small. Sway-backed, fat and lazy and ancient followed, until finally we saw a very fine animal, which even early in the day as it was, ought to have been attracting attention already. It was jet black all over with one single white sock.
I went eagerly to look at it but saw the way its eyes followed the hand I reached out towards its nose. I glanced at the horse trader and saw that he looked anxious, chewing his lip. No doubt he wanted to sell the animal very badly but feared trouble if a young lady should be bitten. I withdrew my hand and seized its head collar instead. With a firm grip on that, I stroked its nose. It eyed me in distrustful anger, but I sensed its fear. Surely ill-treatment, not natural ill-temper, was responsible for its bad habits?
“That one’s no good,” my father said firmly, and tried to shepherd me on.
“We can look at it,” I urged him. “It’s not the worst we’ve seen.”
Indeed, its conformation was the finest yet.
“You’ll have the lazy one before this one,” Alban replied, but he obligingly ran his hands over the strong back and fine legs. “Too big,” he said dismissively after a moment.
“Not by much,” I pointed out, “and I’m going to grow.”
“Not this one,” said the Duke more firmly, and taking my elbow, led me on.
I couldn’t help glancing back as we looked over another mediocre black. I saw a rough looking man stop to examine the horse; he had livery stable written all over him. The horse snapped at his hand and he struck it hard across the nose with his crop, making it toss its head and scream in pain and defiance. I could see its fate all too clearly. One of these livery yard owners would buy it for less than its worth and it would be hired out to all and sundry, whipped more and more until it was too vicious to keep, or until its spirit was broken.
I realized that my father was waiting for my opinion of the current black. “This one’s useless,” I snapped. “I don’t know why we’re even looking at it.” Most of my pleasure at choosing a horse seemed to have evaporated.
The Duke looked at me rather closely but walked on with me without saying anything.
It took us until gone midday to finish the market, and we didn’t find anything that satisfied either of us.
“Oh well,” said the Duke. “We’ll try again another day.”
I hesitated. “Couldn’t we walk round once more?”
“Again? Any of the reasonable ones will be gone by now…”
“...just a row or two?” I pleaded.
“All right,” sighed the Duke with more than a suggestion of resignation.
The biter was still there, being restrained from trampling the latest livery yard owner under its fine hooves. The horse trader beat it into submission with his own whip, while the prospective buyer dusted off his cap.
“See, man, who’s going to buy a nag like that,” he told the trader. “I’ll give you three guineas, and that’s generous.” His eyes said clearly that once he had finished with the horse it would carry anyone on its back and he would have got himself a bargain.
The trader looked all too tempted, but his eyes fell suddenly on me and my father, strolling along the lines in his direction.
“I’m holding out for at least four,” he prevaricated.
“Blue murder, for a vicious beast like that,” claimed the yard owner.
I went to take the horse’s head collar again and the yar
d owner caught my shoulder. “Hey, watch it, miss, that’s not a little girl’s horse.”
I shook him off angrily and seized the head collar. “I’ll give you five guineas for him,” I told the trader, whose mouth fell open.
The Duke sighed softly. “You really want this one?”
I bit my lip and nodded.
“Fine,” said the Duke and turned to the trader. “You wanted four guineas, here they are.” He dropped the coins into the trader’s hand. “Sort out a bill of sale and we can be off.”
The yard owner elected not to try and compete with a Duke, and took himself off. The trader gave the Duke a guardedly sour look for dropping my price but made no demur. He would’ve ended up selling for three to the yard owner.
I stroked the horse’s nose, a firm grip on the head collar. “What’s his name?” I asked the trader.
“Hellion,” said the trader reluctantly, “I thinks, anyway. Chap also called ‘im Hellfire, so you can takes your pick.”
“Hmm,” I said, and would have taken charge of the horse myself, only one of the footmen, beckoned by the Duke, appeared beside me and took control of Hellion, if that was his real name. I followed eagerly as the footman led the horse away; my father stayed to sort out the practicalities of the transaction.
By the time I’d seen Hellion securely tied to the back of the coach and the footmen were nursing their bruises and glowering from a prudent distance, the Duke had not arrived. I headed off to look for him, unperturbed at navigating the bustling market alone. I spotted him halfway to the coach with...my step paused and I slipped casually behind a nearby pony and peeped over its back.
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