Jeanne pulled the covers closer and turned to find sleep once more, when the sound came again: a tapping from the French doors to the narrow balcony that overlooked the back garden. Too regular for a branch in the wind. The wrong time both of year and night for a bird entranced by its own reflection. She rose, pulling on the dressing gown that lay across the end of the bedstead, and went to draw back the curtains.
A ghostly head floated before her, gaunt and pale, its lips moving soundlessly. Jeanne shrieked in the terror of having all her fears confirmed. In the next moment, even as she heard Marien calling out from the next room, she pulled open the doors with a glad cry. “Antuniet! Whatever are you doing there?” The spectral head was explained by a dark, high-necked dress, but the gauntness and pallor… That was real. Jeanne grasped her by the shoulders and quickly drew her in. “Did you climb up by the vine? But why? You could have rung. Tomric would have let you in.”
It took a few minutes in the warmth of the room for Antuniet’s teeth to stop chattering enough to answer. Enough time to reassure Marien and send her off for a glass of brandy. “I didn’t want to be seen coming here,” Antuniet said at last. “They’re still watching for me. There was someone at the end of the street; I don’t think he saw me come around the back. Didn’t want to make trouble for you, but—”
“Don’t be absurd!” Jeanne countered. “I’ve been worried sick. Where have you been?” She guided Antuniet into the chair by the hearth and rubbed her hands together as Marien returned with the brandy and poked up the fire.
Antuniet looked up, asking, “How much do you know of what happened that day…when I disappeared?”
“I know Kreiser’s men broke into your house and—”
“Anna,” Antuniet asked suddenly. “Is she—”
“She’s…better,” Jeanne said hesitantly. The details could wait. “They killed poor Iakup. And there was no sign of you. We all thought…Barbara had men out searching for days. She still has them watching for you anywhere you might turn up. I’m sure that was who you saw out on the street. But where have you been?”
When Antuniet was warmed and fortified by the brandy, the story emerged, in fits and starts. “I was out of my head with a fever…I don’t know how long. A riverman—I don’t really remember how he found me but he took me to Saint Iulin’s hospital, downriver just outside the city walls. They cared for me with no questions asked, but eventually I had no excuse to stay longer. This seemed the best evening to move about the city unnoticed. If I could just have a place to sleep for the night? I promise I’ll be gone in the morning, but I need to retrieve my property from Tiporsel House.”
“Gone?” Jeanne asked. “But why? You can stay as long as you need.”
“I don’t want to make trouble for you.”
“You said that before and it still makes no sense. What trouble could—”
“I bring disaster on everyone and everything I touch!” Antuniet burst out. “Just let me go and be well rid of me!”
There was no question of that, but Jeanne knew there was no use arguing at the moment. Morning would bring more sense. “Of course you can sleep here tonight. And then tomorrow I can take you anywhere you need to go. Marien?”
“We’d need to make up a bed and a fire in one of the guest rooms,” Marien offered, “but if Maisetra Chazillen doesn’t mind she could take my bed and I’ll go upstairs to sleep. She looks so done in that I’d hate to make her wait.”
Indeed, Antuniet had begun shaking again and practicality took over from hospitality. “Then that’s what we’ll do and thank you for the offer.” Of course, it meant Marien could also save another wakeful hour spent seeing to the room. “Come,” she said, holding a hand out to help Antuniet up from the chair.
Antuniet stared at her finger. “That ring…”
Jeanne glanced down. “Oh!” She’d almost forgotten it was there, that it wasn’t hers. “I hope you don’t mind. I—I wanted to keep you in my thoughts and—” She twisted it off and held it out. Antuniet took it and looked back and forth from the ring to her. “I didn’t mean to keep it,” Jeanne apologized.
“It doesn’t matter,” Antuniet said, handing it back. “Keep it. Keep all of them.”
Jeanne slipped the ring back on, vowing to return it to the bag of gems in the morning. “Come, get some sleep. Things will look better in daylight.”
* * *
There was screaming in the dark. Jeanne stumbled out of bed and lit a lamp to see her way into the windowless dressing room. She set the lamp down and shook Antuniet by the shoulder. “Wake up! Wake up, it’s only a dream.” A thunder of feet came down the stairs and along the corridor and she looked over her shoulder to reassure Marien. “It’s nothing. Go back to bed.”
Antuniet cried out once more and jerked upright. “No!”
“Hush, hush, Toneke, it’s only a dream. Only a nightmare.” Jeanne sat on the edge of the bed and took Antuniet in her arms as if she were a child. “It isn’t real.”
“It is. It was.” She spoke as if still lost in sleep.
“Shh, what did you dream? Telling it aloud will break it.”
Antuniet twisted in her arms. “I saw my mother…accusing me. I was locked in the dark; I couldn’t get away. And she was there beside me, all stiff and cold. And then her hand raised and pointed at me.” There was a deep shuddering breath. “She—I found her, you know, after she…when it was all over. She made certain I was the one who would find her. She didn’t think the servants should have to—”
“Shh, that’s all past. She isn’t here now.” How many ghosts were haunting her? How long had she kept all this without a soul to share the horror? “What could she accuse you of? You’ve done nothing.”
“But that’s it: I’ve done nothing.” Antuniet’s voice came muddled through the edge of sleep. Likely she’d remember none of this in the morning. “I’ve done nothing of what I promised her. I promised—I swore over her body—that I’d wipe out what Estefen had done. I’d bring honor back to the family. And I’ve done nothing—worse than nothing.” Her voice caught in a sob.
Jeanne held her even more tightly. She remembered Iosifin Chazillen well. Remembered the look on her face when she gave the final damning evidence at her son’s trial. Remembered the shock, but no surprise, at the news of her suicide. What must it have been like to have a mother who valued honor over her children’s lives? Over her own life? To the rest of the world it had seemed tragically noble, but such a ghost to have haunting one! “You’ve done everything you can, Toneke. You’ve survived. And your work will succeed; I know it.”
She started to loosen her hold, but Antuniet cried out, “Don’t leave me alone! Don’t leave me in the dark!”
“Hush, I won’t leave you,” Jeanne said. “Go back to sleep. I’ll stay and keep watch over you.”
She laid Antuniet down again and tucked the covers closely around her. In the soft glow of the lamplight her face gradually relaxed into sleep once more. The fear faded away and only the weariness remained, but in that face Jeanne could still see the bones of the sharp wit and sardonic humor that had always attracted her, the spark of passion that was only released in the safety of her studies. She leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of Antuniet’s face and froze.
When had this happened? When had teasing and idle flirtation deepened into something more? She sat back, searching her memory. If she had foreseen it, she would have guarded her heart more carefully. There was nothing for her here. Antuniet wasn’t some nobody to be courted or seduced and then sent on her way with a parting gift—that wasn’t how Jeanne wanted her. Nor could she be approached as a knowing and experienced lover. Antuniet hadn’t found her flirtation offensive, only embarrassing. But a serious declaration of love…that would be a different matter. Could she learn to be the friend that Antuniet needed and to be no more than a friend?
She recalled the last time she had misjudged her heart and fallen unwisely in love. That summer with Barbara… The ache ha
d faded eventually and they were friends now—it could be done. And Antuniet… She had barely begun to trust the offer of friendship; might she someday accept more? Oh, they always crept up on her unawares, the ones who were far more than a pretty face and a pleasant armful. She sighed at her own folly. In echo, Antuniet moaned and turned as if trying to escape the demons in the dark. “Shh, shh, I’m here. I won’t leave you,” Jeanne whispered. She lay down on top of the coverlet beside her and held her close until she quieted. “I’ll keep you safe tonight.” Eventually, she too slept.
Morning arrived stiff and cold. Jeanne carefully unwrapped herself from around Antuniet and slipped out to seek her own bed. It would embarrass them both for her to be found there.
Chapter Sixteen
Barbara
After the excitement of the night before, it wasn’t a morning for early rising. Barbara rolled up onto one elbow in the bed and leaned across Margerit to pour another cup from the chocolate pot on the little side table. She paused to leave a kiss in passing.
“Mmm, you could have asked me to pour,” Margerit said.
“But that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.” The pastries had long since disappeared into a few lingering crumbs and the sounds of the household below tolled an approaching end to their lazy intimacy.
Margerit’s expression turned from playful to thoughtful as she returned to last night’s events. “Efriturik was right, you know. You can hardly scold him for not maintaining the dignity of his rank when you give so little care to your own. Someone else will have to convince him of that.”
Barbara sighed. “My reputation is built on eccentricity. And it’s not as if I need someone else’s protection—”
“—except when you go charging into tavern brawls wearing a ball gown. You always tell me to trust Marken’s instincts and you know what he thinks.”
The arguments were all true. She thought back to the times she’d borrowed Marken even briefly for show or safety. That wasn’t fair to him or any of them. And yet…“I dread the thought of bringing someone new so closely into our lives. An armin isn’t like hiring a new kitchen maid. It may not be his place to approve or disapprove, but I need to be able to trust him. He’ll know all our secrets and have your good name in his keeping as well as my own. Marken knew us back before. That makes a difference.”
Margerit drew a hand down along Barbara’s cheek to acknowledge the point, and Barbara pressed it against her lips. “Just promise me you’ll think about it,” Margerit said.
“I’ll do better than that.” She rolled out of the bed and pulled the bell. Maitelen answered with an alacrity that suggested she thought it past time to be moving on with the day. “Lay out my riding clothes, the breeches and the blue coat.” She turned back to Margerit. “I’ll go off to Perret’s this very morning and after my practice I’ll ask him to start looking for possibilities. He’ll know who’s good and who’s looking for a position.”
Margerit sat up in bed and watched her dress, adding, “As long as you’re turning respectable at last, why not hire your own maid and stop stealing mine!”
“Now that would go too far!” Barbara returned. “How could you ask Maitelen to give up being lady’s maid to a baroness?”
The subject of their conversation made a noise something like a snort and said, “Never you mind about me, Mesnera. I knew the day I met you back in Chalanz that I’d do well to stick by you and you weren’t a baroness yet then!”
They were nearly dressed when Maitelen answered a tap on the door and returned to announce, “The Vicomtesse de Cherdillac is waiting for you in the front parlor. With a guest.” The faintest of frowns told what she thought of untimely visitors.
Margerit urged, “Go down and see what she wants, Barbara. I’m nearly done and likely it’s you she wants to see anyway.”
When Barbara entered the room, Jeanne turned to her with a strained cheerfulness, saying, “Look who turned up on my doorstep last night!” And then, with a smile that spoke of secret jokes, “That is, not the doorstep precisely.”
When the other woman also turned, Barbara’s face hardened into a scowl. Someone should have warned her! No. Who among the ordinary servants would have recognized her like this? And Jeanne…must have had her own reasons.
Antuniet curtseyed stiffly, murmuring, “Baroness!”
An awkward pause stretched out as Barbara fumbled through the possible salutations she could return. In the end she settled for nodding silently.
“Forgive me for the hour,” Antuniet continued. “I don’t mean to trouble you further. I’ve only come for my property.”
“It seems to me you’ve been trouble enough already. I—”
But Margerit came through the door in that moment and her glad cry of “Antuniet!” brushed away what would have been said.
Antuniet shrank into herself and Margerit paused at the rebuff. Antuniet repeated, “I’ve come to retrieve my property.”
“Of course,” Margerit said in a more subdued voice, looking back and forth between all of them as if sorting out the tension. “I’ll go fetch the book.”
Silence fell while they waited. Jeanne had stepped back and was watching closely but had said no word after the start. Barbara could hear voices out in the hallway: Bertrut questioning, Margerit answering. The last thing they needed was awkward interruptions. Margerit returned at last, carrying the book in the same satchel it had arrived in.
Barbara laid a hand on her arm when she would have offered it to Antuniet. “I’ve worked my way through a fair amount of that book,” she said. “An interesting text. Dangerous, in the wrong hands.”
“I’ve gone to some trouble to keep it out of the wrong hands,” Antuniet said evenly.
“I was wondering about yours,” Barbara countered. “What exactly are your plans for this work of yours?”
“That’s hardly your concern.” It was clear her veneer of patience was fraying to shreds, but Barbara’s own patience over the matter had worn out long ago.
“You made it my concern when you thrust my household into the middle of it willy-nilly. I still remember the last adventure your family led us into. Swear to me that you had no part in your brother’s plot and you can have your book.”
Antuniet’s chin went up in defiance. “If you need to ask, then you wouldn’t believe me no matter what oath I swore. Will you return my property to me or are you a thief?”
Barbara bristled, but whatever hot words she might have returned were cut short when Margerit shook off her hand and stepped forward. “You gave it into my keeping and I return it to you safe and sound. But what will you do now? Nothing is changed. Mesner Kreiser…yes, we know about him. You need to take someone’s protection. I could—”
“No!”
“Or you could go to the palace. Ask Annek—”
“No.” Antuniet opened the case and drew the book out just far enough to ascertain its identity. The gesture might have been meant as an insult but it had more the feel of reassurance.
“What will you do?” Margerit repeated. “Where will you go?”
Antuniet shrugged and unbent enough to answer. “I’ll see what can still be saved from my workshop and then I’ll flee Rotenek, like a thief in the night, before Kreiser can get word of me. It doesn’t much matter where I go. I’ve started from nothing before and I’ll do it again.”
Jeanne took a half step forward as if she would speak at last, but her silence held until Antuniet had strode from the room with no farewell and they heard the echoes of the heavy front door closing behind her. Then she turned with a look of fury, crying, “Damn you, Barbara! Damn the both of you for your stiff-necked pride! She needs help and you stood by and let her walk away.”
“If she wants help, then she needs to ask for it.”
“Ask you? Ask the person who represents everything she’s lost?” Barbara couldn’t remember ever seeing Jeanne this angry. “Do you know why she wouldn’t go to Annek for help with Kreiser? Aside from no longer hav
ing the right? Because the work was meant to be her gift to Alpennia…her gift to redeem the honor of the Chazillens.”
That rang true, but Jeanne’s fierce defense did not. “Why do you care so much?”
“Why do you care so little?” Jeanne countered. “Does it mean nothing to you that Antuniet is the nearest kin you have still living? And that you stand the same to her?”
Barbara had never gotten used to thinking of Antuniet as family. Fate had conspired against there ever being goodwill between them.
Jeanne must have seen some softening, for her voice dropped to a more coaxing tone. “You cared enough to have men watching my house for the last month in case she returned, so why not—”
Barbara felt a cold shiver. “I never set anyone to watch you.”
The same realization crossed all three minds at once.
“Dear God!” Margerit exclaimed. “Kreiser. He knows she’s back.”
There were reflexes trained into Barbara’s body that time would never entirely erase. She was moving toward the door before a plan had fully formed in her mind. It was one thing to leave Antuniet to her own folly and another to help betray her to her enemy. She called out to the footmen in the hall as she passed: “Marzo, Sikipirt!” Not the men she necessarily would have chosen to have behind her in a fight, but young and strong and here. And if her foreboding were true, time meant everything.
Crossing the yard at a run, she added one of the grooms. If Antuniet were heading for her old workshop, she’d have gone down the Vezenaf to Pont Ruip. The bridge was the worst place to be trapped; she knew that lesson well. Barbara ran as if before the hounds and heard the footsteps of the others falling behind. What would Marken say now! Traffic was sparse on the road but still too crowded to see whether Antuniet had made the turn yet. It wasn’t until she turned onto the bridge herself and began the rise that Barbara saw the struggling knot of people she’d been searching for. No one figure could be discerned as they surged against the parapet, but all of a sudden a dark object arced over the rail and hung suspended against the sky before falling into the river below with a splash.
The Mystic Marriage Page 16
