I took a seat on the sofa and studied Lady Mathews thoughtfully. It was hard to believe she was the same woman I’d seen in the memory. Thirty years had left their mark. She was old, with fluffy white hair she’d made no attempt to straighten. Her clothes were older than the outfits I’d been trying to make fashionable again, in a bid to make a virtue out of necessity. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a period drama from the last century. I guessed she was old enough not to have to care about fashion.
“Lady Lamplighter.” There was a hint of impatience in Lady Mathews’s voice. “I assume you have a reason for visiting me?”
“Yes, My Lady,” I said. I wanted to make small talk, even though I detested it. Anything, to put the moment off as much as I could. “I was asked to bring you this.”
I took the orb from my pocket and held it out. Lady Mathews frowned, then took it out of my fingers and peered into the light. Her face went pale as the memory enveloped her ... I felt a stab of pity, remembering the middle-aged women I’d seen. She was no longer a social beauty, but ... she’d been beautiful in her way. Now ... I looked around the reading room, realising just how isolated Lady Mathews truly was. She lived alone, save for a servant girl too young to do more than the basics. I wondered, morbidly, if she cooked for herself. The maid didn’t look old enough to cook on the stove.
Maybe they send out for food, I thought. She’s certainly rich enough ...
The orb dropped from Lady Mathews’s fingers and hit the floor. I snatched it up, half-afraid it was broken. I wasn’t sure how much they could take - I’d certainly not risked trying to smash the orbs I’d been given - and I dreaded to think what Malachi would do if he realised I’d broken one. I was surprised he hadn’t demanded them back. Or maybe not. He could simply copy the memory again if he needed it.
“You ...” Lady Mathews stared at me, her face - already pale - going paler. “How could you ...?”
“You have a choice,” I said, as severely as I could. Malachi would want to see the memory, I was sure. I couldn’t afford to appear decent. “You can meet our terms, or the secret will be exposed.”
I hated myself at that moment, hated my weakness, hated the folly that had led me into Malachi’s clutches. I would have given anything, anything at all, for the chance to redo my life, to leave the family well before it collapsed. But no magic ever devised could undo the past. I had to do as Malachi ordered; I had to twist the screws on a little old lady who’d never done me any harm, or watch everything I’d built fall into ruin.
“He was a horrible man.” Lady Mathews sounded as if she were talking to herself, rather than me. “You don’t understand ... you’re unmarried, aren’t you? How can you possibly understand?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, awkwardly.
“The marriage was arranged.” Lady Mathews laughed, harshly. “He arranged it. Told my parents it would be good for both of us. Paid them enough money to make them go along with it. He promised them grandchildren with powerful magic and a name ... a real name. And when we’d had the kids ...”
Her hands shook. I thought I saw the air shimmer around her fingertips. “I was a prisoner. His prisoner. I couldn’t leave the hall. Couldn’t do anything. I banned him from my bed, and he went to the maids. He took delight in telling me he’d have the children raised elsewhere, so they’d look down on me. They went to school and didn’t come back ... I poisoned him. Ancients help me, I poisoned him. I should have known he’d find a way to blight me. I should have known.”
She looked at me, her blue eyes seeming to peer into my soul. “You’re just the messenger, aren’t you?”
I nodded, knowing it wouldn’t make me feel any better.
“Your master will demand more and more,” Lady Mathews said. “I can give him everything and he won’t ever be satisfied. I don’t know who’s enslaved you, girl, but I know the type. They take and take until you’re a drained husk, then they betray you. I will not live like that.”
Magic flared around her. I jumped up and stumbled back. Magic, powerful magic, was building up rapidly. My hair tried to stand on end. The door burst open. Poppy ran into the room, screaming something. I couldn’t hear her. The magic was beating on the air, the entire building shaking so violently I thought it was going to fall to rubble. A form crashed into me, little fists pounding my back. Poppy ... I paralysed her with a spell, her frozen body falling back and hitting the ground with a thud. Her mistress didn’t seem to notice. Her armchair was smouldering. I realised, too late, what was about to happen.
Lady Mathews caught fire. The wards caught fire. The entire building shook as flames blasted in all directions, the walls and ceilings catching fire with terrifying - impossible - speed. A stench of burning flesh assaulted my nostrils as Lady Mathews died, her mouth locked in a silent scream as her body turned to ash. The floor cracked underneath my feet, threatening to collapse at any moment. I glanced at Poppy, seeing her eyes - the only things she could move - flickering back and forth in panic. Her mistress hadn’t even thought to order the maid out of the house before she set fire to it.
I threw a hex at the cracking window, shattering it to splinters. I hoped no one was underneath as I levitated Poppy into the air, trying to ignore the heat under my feet. I might die saving her, but I owed it to my conscience to take some risks. Poppy flew out the window, propelled by my spell; I followed, dropping down to the ground and landing badly. The air stank of burning plants, some very dangerous. I muttered a charm to cover myself as I yanked the floating Poppy towards me, then blasted a hole in the gate. There was no one outside, but I knew that would change in a hurry. It was the sort of neighbourhood where everyone minded everyone else’s business. I dropped Poppy to the ground, turned her into a statuette and shoved her into my pocket. There was no time to try to wipe her memory and drop her somewhere; no time to do anything. I wrapped a glamour around myself and ran. Behind me, the house burnt with a savagery that both awed and terrified. Lady Mathews had gone out in style.
A handful of people ran past me, heading towards what remained of the house. I evaded them as carefully as I could. The glamour should keep them from noticing me, but it wouldn’t last if they actually ran into me. Guilt gnawed at my heart as I slowed, circumventing the outskirts of North Shallot. My family’s hall was on the edges, peering over the waters. Once, I’d thought that a poor choice. Now, I was grateful. It made it harder for anyone to see me as I reached the back walls and levitated myself into the garden. The wards made no attempt to stop me. Why should they? They were my wards.
I sat on the garden bench and stared down at my hands. I’d killed. I’d killed Lady Mathews, as surely as she’d poisoned her oaf of a husband. I believed what she’d told me, I believed every word. And yet ... she’d known, just as Malachi and I had known, that she would never be forgiven. My lips quirked into a cold smile. There’d be no question about the will now, I thought; there’d be no suggestion her husband’s property should be returned to his family instead of being passed down to his children. Lady Mathews had made sure of that by killing herself. By the time the truth came out, if it ever did, it wouldn’t matter. I felt a flicker of respect ...
... which was driven away by the guilt. I’d killed her. I’d killed. My dress stank of smoke and ash and burning flesh, my hair ... I didn’t want to think about my hair. And it didn’t matter, not compared to the simple fact I’d killed. Lady Mathews was dead. My thoughts sickened me. Who’d be next? Marlene? Ayesha? Brantley? I remembered the names and faces of my peers, back at school; I remembered the aristocrats who’d come to my parties and invited me to theirs ... how many had secrets? It might not even be aristocrats. For all I knew, Kate and Gary - and their parents - had secrets of their own.
I can’t go on like this, I thought. Who was next? Whose life would I ruin? I just can’t.
I rested my head in my hands. Malachi was blackmailing me, but he was also offering me wealth and power ... at the cost of my soul. He’d keep pushing me to compromise my
self until it was too late ... if it wasn’t already. I learnt a harsh lesson, but not soon enough. But I was damned if I was going to risk getting someone else killed. He had to be stopped. I considered, briefly, heading to his house, weapon in hand ... I shook my head. That wasn’t going to work. His house was heavily defended. I’d need to sneak inside - somehow - and destroy the memories. And everything else he’d collected for blackmail. The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. Servants knew everything.
And I ruined Poppy’s life too, I thought. No one but Poppy herself knew I’d been in Lady Mathews’s house when she died. Poppy, on the other hand ... people would wonder if she’d died in the blaze or if she’d set the blaze. They’ll want to speak to her, even if they think she’s innocent.
I stood and walked to the hall. The rear door looked unwashed - we’d never allowed the partygoers into the back garden - but it opened at my touch. The hall felt cold and silent as I made my way up the servant passageways, cobwebs brushing against my bare skin. I’d experienced worse. The housemothers had forced me to stand outside, after Lights Out ... I rolled my eyes, seeing the system for the absurdity it was. They wanted to punish me for being out of bed by keeping me out of bed? Idiots.
A pile of letters greeted me as I entered my office. I glanced at them to make sure there was nothing I needed to check urgently, then closed the blinds and locked the doors. The wards were already strong, but I tested them before removing the statuette from my pocket and reversing the spell. Poppy staggered, convulsing so badly I was afraid I’d hurt her. I cursed myself under my breath. I was used to being hexed and cursed and all sorts of little indignities piled on me. Poppy had probably never been treated so badly in her life. Being frozen, then levitated and then transfigured had to have been terrifying if she hadn’t been effectively kidnapped as well.
She forced herself to sit up and stare at me. “What ...”
Her voice trailed off as she coughed. I understood. I’d scared her badly, really badly. She knew who I was - unless she assumed I’d given her a false name - but she didn’t know anything else about me. I poured her a glass of water and watched as she drank it, half-expecting her to throw it in my face. She couldn’t possibly know I had no intention of hurting her.
“You killed her,” Poppy managed. “Why ...?”
“She killed herself,” I said. It was true, but I doubted Poppy would believe me. “I need your help.”
Poppy glared at me, but I could see the fear in her eyes. I could do anything to her, anything at all. I wished, suddenly, that I’d thought to give a false name. Or something ... I could wipe her memory and cut her loose ... perhaps. It depended on just how much interest people took in the fire. If they thought Poppy was a suspect, they’d poke and prod at her memories until they realised someone had wiped her mind. I just didn’t know.
“Help me and I’ll give you money and a new name,” I said. “It’ll let you rebuild your life.”
“I didn’t have a life.” Poppy looked down at the floor. “I’m an orphan.”
“Then I can find a place for you,” I said. It might be more than I could offer, but ... the only alternative was keeping her prisoner until the affair was over. “Help me and I’ll help you.”
“Fine.” Poppy said. I could hear the bitterness in her tone. “What do you want?”
“Right now, I want you to behave,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else she could offer me, but ... I owed her something. I’d torn her life apart quite by accident. “And I want you to tell me about yourself.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Poppy didn’t have much to tell me, not entirely to my surprise, but her conversation bought me time to consider my next move. The evening newspapers had a brief note about the fire - it must have been a slow news day - but very little speculation about the cause. I hoped that meant there were no suspicions. The reporters would have turned a minor suspicion into a major scandal if they’d had a hint there was something criminal about the blaze. By the time I moved Poppy to a bedroom, with warnings about saying too much or trying to leave the hall, I had a rough outline of a plan. I wrote out a handful of notes for Jadish to take to my friends, then headed to the bathroom. I didn’t feel clean even after an hour in the tub.
I didn’t feel any better the following morning either, when I stumbled out of bed and lurched down to the kitchenette. Uncle Jalil was nowhere to be seen, somewhat to my relief. I was in no state to face him or anyone else. The morning newspapers seemed to believe Lady Mathew’s death had been a terrible accident. There was no hint that anyone was looking for Poppy, or indeed that anyone had noticed her death. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Poppy was an orphan, trading her service for accommodations. It was quite possible no one apart from her former mistress knew she even existed.
I can give her employment, if she wants, or arrange for her to go elsewhere, I thought, as I poured coffee down my throat. It tasted foul, but jarred me awake. If I get out of this alive, I should be able to pay for her education and give her a good start in life.
Jadish entered, just as I was finishing my fourth mug of coffee. “My Lady, your guests are starting to arrive,” she said. “What should I do with your other guest?”
“Keep her in the bedroom, but make sure she has something to eat,” I said. Poppy might be helpful - and she was too young to have witnessed the murder - but I didn’t have time to make sure she could be trusted. “And then send the other guests down to the ironhold.”
“Yes, My Lady.” Jadish looked surprised. The ironhold was hardly a fit place for guests. “Should I serve coffee or tea?”
“Both, please.” I put my mug in the sink and smoothed down my dress. “Tell them I’ll be down in a moment.”
I stared into the mirror, taking a moment to calm myself. My face looked as if I’d been in a fight, as if someone had blackened my eyes. I washed my face, then turned and headed for the stairs. I didn’t look like someone who was about to receive guests, but it didn’t matter. The people I’d summoned knew me, even if we weren’t friends. And I was well past caring what anyone else thought. The Grande Dames no longer mattered.
The air grew cooler as I made my way down to the ironhold. It was empty, the stockpiles of potions and potion ingredients stripped bare long ago. My father had never been much of a brewer, even if he’d tried to harvest plants for sale. I shivered as I stepped through the iron door, hoping and praying the combination of wrought iron in the walls and the household wards would be enough to keep out prying eyes. I’d had no time to make the wards any stronger. My father didn’t seem to have used the ironhold for anything.
My eyes scanned the chamber. Gary, Kate, Ayesha and Marlene sat on uncomfortable chairs, uneasily looking at each other uneasily. They were an oddly mismatched group. Marlene and Kate knew each other, knew enough to be wary of each other; Gary and Ayesha came from two different worlds. I was mildly surprised Ayesha hadn’t brought her sister with her, even though I’d hinted she should come alone. Perhaps she was just being careful. Zeya was blameless. Ayesha would want to keep it that way.
Unless she did something dumb herself, I thought, sourly. I’d done something dumb. I wasn’t the only one too. We all have our secrets.
I closed the door, then looked from face to face. “This chamber has been carefully warded,” I said. “You’ll find it impossible” - I hoped - “to share what you hear with anyone who isn’t in our group. Whatever you decide, afterwards, please bear that in mind.”
No one looked pleased. Gary had good reason to suspect I wasn’t being entirely truthful. Marlene and Ayesha would fear what they were about to hear, even if they weren’t annoyed at my presumption in setting up the wards in the first place. It was a pretty good rule of thumb that someone who didn’t want you to talk wasn’t your friend. Technically, even hinting at such wards was a breach of etiquette. I could get in real trouble if they believed me.
“We have a problem,” I said. “Some of you already know parts
of this. Others ... I invited you because I thought you might help. I need” - I hesitated, suddenly unsure how to proceed - “I need your help. And so does everyone else.”
I took a breath, then told them about Malachi. Kate’s eyes widened as I glossed over some of the details - she knew me well enough to tell I was leaving parts of the story out - while the others just looked sick. Marlene and Ayesha knew someone was ferreting out secrets and blackmailing people, even if they didn’t know who. Gary - of course - knew the whole story. I felt a moment of affection. I’d given him something he could use to ruin me, if he wished, and he’d done nothing. I loved him for it.
“Are you saying ...?” Marlene swallowed and started again. “Are you saying we’ve all been blackmailed?”
“Not all of us,” I said. My eyes lingered on Kate. I’d thought twice about inviting her. She’d never had any qualms about helping me at school, but this was the real world. She had a bright future ahead of her. I didn’t think she’d want to risk throwing it away. “But yes, most of us have been blackmailed.”
“He used you as the messenger,” Ayesha said, tonelessly. “And now you want ... what?”
The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8) Page 33
