The gesture itself wasn’t unusual, as he was always writing this or that in a ledger, but this one was different. Because on the ledger’s binding were the words Golden Goose scratched into the leather, barely legible from where she stood.
“What’s that project?” she asked, for once not having to feign interest.
“Which one?”
“Golden Goose. Cumberfold said something about that last night at supper as well.”
He stared at her for a long moment before blinking and pulling his story from his pocket again. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, my dear. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. She longed for his strong, royal hands to wrap themselves around her delicate waist. She wanted him to mash his bearded face against hers and kiss her as though . . .”
And on and on the story went. And as awful as it was, Eva found a kind of sinister glee in knowing that Jack had to suffer along with her. Served him right for leaving her last night. Eventually, though, enough workers came up to ask the duke questions that he took her hand in his clammy fingers, and Eva had to consciously keep herself from grimacing. It was like being clutched by a frog.
“I am sorry, my harp, but I beg your leave for the time being. I am going to visit the Countess of Sill Cotter, and I have a number of business needs that must be attended to.”
A wild thought hit Eva, and without thinking, she grabbed his clammy hand again. “Mightn’t I go with you this time? I mean,” she did her best to look earnest, “if I’m to be queen one day, shouldn’t I get to know your peerage as well?”
“Ah, finally thinking productively. I’m afraid not, though.” He dropped her hand and turned to go back to the house. “You have work that must be done here. And,” he paused at the edge of the apple grove, “I do expect your work to be done properly. And you, Jerry!” he aimed a stern look at Jack, “I expect your conduct to be beyond reproach. None of this business should be conducted alone. You may act as cupbearer as long as you’re in public.” He smiled sweetly at Eva. “I’ll not have my future wife’s reputation questioned.”
Jack, shaking his head slowly, watched him until the duke had gone into one of the storehouses. “He’s worried about your reputation . . . after writing that?” He rubbed his temples. “I’m not the scholar I wish I was, but even I can say that that was akin to dropping a hammer on my foot repeatedly.”
But Eva wasn’t smiling. Instead, she watched him carefully. He sobered quickly when he turned and saw her expression.
“Before we do anything else, I need to know two things,” she said softly.
His gaze went to the ground. “Yes?”
“First of all, are you back to help me finish this? Or do you plan to run at the first sign of trouble?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry for yesterday. That was wrong of me. I said I would help you.” His jaw tightened and his eyes sparked, though at what Eva couldn’t tell. “And I’m going to.”
Eva nodded slowly. “My second requirement is to know what your intentions are.”
He looked at her as though she’d sprouted a third arm.
“I’m here to bring you home.”
“I mean . . .” She could feel the blush rising to her face, but if she didn’t say it now, she never would. “Will your . . . actions continue to be noble when we’re alone together? Because if we’re going to figure this out, we’re going to be alone quite a bit.”
At this, his eyes widened for a moment, and his cheeks reddened as well. “Oh. Of course. I mean, I would never do anything . . . untoward.”
Eva finally let herself smile as she breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought so. I just needed to know for sure.” She laughed a little, suddenly feeling close to giddy. “My brother would have my head if he knew what I was about to do alone with another man.”
Jack didn’t say anything, but glanced at her nervously.
She laughed again. “And if you’re worried about me seducing you, you needn’t fear. I couldn’t charm a drunk. Or at least, my sister is always saying so.”
He gave her a funny look, and she didn’t miss his eyes sweeping up and down her form cautiously. For a moment, he looked as though he might make a reply. But instead, he finally shook his head a little and merely asked,
“So . . . if we’re going to beat this fop, how do you propose we start?”
Eve felt a grin spread across her face. “Tonight, after I’ve played the harp at sunset, sneak out of the stables where you’re assigned to sleep and meet me in front of the duke’s study. Do you think you can do that?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sneaking out? I’ve been doing that since I was fourteen. What else?”
Eva considered pressing for more details about his odd remark but decided to let it go for the moment. Instead, she grinned and put her hands on her waist. “We’re going to steal the Golden Goose.”
8
This Man Has a Problem
Eva tapped her foot nervously as she waited in the shadow of a corner near the duke’s study. He wouldn’t leave me again. He said he was going to stay. He’ll stay. He’ll be here.
Of course, there were a million other reasons he might not show up. Perhaps someone had discovered his purpose for being in the duke’s employ. Or the duke had had him arrested when they were apart. Or maybe he’d been caught breaking curfew. Even when the duke was gone, the servants didn’t seem to consider slacking off or relaxing the rules. If anything, they worked harder.
After nearly two hours of waiting, she had nearly given up when footsteps sounded down the hall. Eva stiffened until she recognized the comforting sound of heavy boots, far different from anything the manor staff ever wore. He stopped at the study door and looked around. Eva darted out of her hiding place long enough to grab him by the sleeve, unlock the door, and drag him inside. As soon as they were in, she shut the door as quietly as possible and locked it once more.
To her relief, someone had left a low fire burning in the hearth. The light wasn’t bright, but it was enough to see the hundreds of leather ledgers filling the ceiling-high bookshelves, the side tables by the chair, and even the surface of the desk itself.
Jack went up to the desk and studied the four piles that sat atop it. “This man has a problem.”
“He keeps records on everything. And every ledger he owns has a double that he records at the end of the day in the off-chance it’s lost.” Eva looked around until she found two candles, which she lit as well and handed one to Jack. “I didn’t know there was so much parchment on the entire continent, let alone in Guthward.” She shook her head in disgust. “He brought me here once to show me his collection. I think he believed it would impress me.”
“Did it?”
“While I find the general acquiring of information useful and even admirable in many people, there is nothing that could impress me less than records kept on how many belches different foods produce.”
Jack stared at her for a long moment before finally shaking his head and looking around. “So what exactly are we looking for?” he asked as he lifted the candle.
“There’s a ledger I’ve seen him carrying a number of times that’s different from the others. It’s called the Golden Goose, and I’m convinced it has to do with his plans for all those beans.”
“Why are you so sure?”
She gave him a wry smile. “It’s the only one he won’t talk to me about. And that man will not miss any opportunity to impress me if he can help it.”
“So . . .” Jack looked around the study, warily eyeing the two-foot tall stacks on the desk again. “I suppose we just begin anywhere.”
Eva was trying to pick the lock on the desk drawer, and she found herself wishing she’d asked Martin for tips on breaking locks that time he’d figured it out, rather than scolding him instead.
“Whatever suits you,” she said, giving up on the lock and grabbing a stack from the desk corner instead. “Only take care to return everything to the exact place you found it. The man is obsessive.”
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“Now what gave you that idea?” Jack sighed and lifted the closest stack from another corner of the desk.
For a long time, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft scrape of leather bindings and parchment as they skimmed the ledgers. Eva was glad for something to occupy her hands. But even as she skimmed the covers, where someone had branded a title on each, she couldn’t keep the deeper parts of her mind from wandering over to the young man on the floor several feet away. It was difficult not to study the sharp angles of his chin or the way he slightly quirked his left eyebrow as he read. He was so different from the hordes of young men Sophie was always trying to introduce her to. His manner, though a bit rough, was unassuming and easy to be around. For once, she didn’t feel as though she needed to act differently around him, that he was judging her, or that he even minded that she was nearly as tall as he was. And that was nice.
Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Can I ask you a question?”
Jack looked up from his pile. “I suppose.”
Eva hesitated. They really should be concentrating on searching the ledgers. But weeks of being alone with only the duke and Mrs. McConnell for company had her thirsting for something more real. She wanted to talk about something other than the duke.
“You seem very good with your brothers. Well, with children really. And I was wondering how you . . .” Her voice trailed off in embarrassment, but understanding lit his eyes, and with it, what she thought looked like chagrin before he hid his face in another ledger. For a moment, she thought that perhaps she’d crossed a line and dug too deeply. Shame made her squirm as she regretted the question. But, to her surprise, a moment later he began to talk.
“After my father died, my mother always blamed me. I was the one that brought home the fever.” He paused. “I was . . . I was fourteen. When I recovered, my father took ill.” He shrugged. “She’d never been particularly fond of me, but after he died, she withdrew from nearly everyone and everything, including my younger brothers. If I hadn’t cared for them, no one would have.”
Eva stared in horror. While her family had its squabbles and imperfections, there had never been any doubt in her mind as to whether or not they had good intentions. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been sick and fewer than four or five people, with her parents leading the charge, had taken turns caring for her. They would bring soups and drinks and read her stories and fetch her anything she asked for.
“Were . . .” She had to stop and swallow before she could utter the whole sentence. “Were your parents close?”
“That’s the funny thing. Not particularly.” He shoved a pile of ledgers to the side and grabbed another. “But my father had promised my mother the world when they were married, and she was horribly disappointed when she realized she’d married just another farmer. She’d remind him of it every chance she got, too, that he’d told her he was going to take her to see the world.” Jack stopped and stared into the fire, and Eva had to resist the urge to get off the desk where she was perched and hug him.
“She accused him of quitting the fight just before he died, and she’s believed ever since that if he’d only fought harder, he would still be alive today.”
“So you take care of your brothers because she—”
“She’s still wandering around wishing for the life that was never really hers to begin with.”
Eva shook her head to herself as she went back to reading the ledger covers. What a terrible fate, to do naught but wander about, mourning a past that never happened.
“What about your family?” He broke through her thoughts, a slight smile on his lips. “They have quite a reputation, even with those who have never met you.”
She gave a dry laugh. “My family’s reputation generally precedes my family wherever we go, though not for the usual reasons.”
“How is that?”
“Well, to begin with, we are what most people wish they were. Fairy-blessed. Before any of us were born, my parents were woodcutters who lived in a little cottage in the forest. My father was out chopping wood when he heard a noise. He followed it and stumbled upon a wolf in an old woman’s cottage. The creature was trying to eat the old woman and her granddaughter. He killed the wolf and went back to chopping wood. The old woman followed him, however, insisting that she would find a way to pay him back.”
“It sounds like a deed worth a reward,” Jack said, but Eva just shook her head and gave him a wry smile.
“Apparently, the grandmother had a fairy godmother, and when she told the fairy godmother about my father’s deed, the fairy godmother decided my parents should have a fairy of their own. Only, they never got a fairy godmother.”
Jack looked thoughtful for a moment before his eyes grew wide. “Oh! You got that fellow—”
“We got Mortimer instead.”
“What’s his story?”
She snorted. “The better question would be what isn’t his story? He’s a reclusive fairy who, from what we can deduce, hates humans and would prefer to spend his time conducting fairy experiments of some kind or another. The fairy council forces him to do good deeds by giving him quotas, and if he doesn’t fulfill his quotas, he’s forbidden from carrying out his experiments.”
“Is it just me, or are his wings rather . . .”
“Yes.” Eva gave a small chuckle. “But back to his tricks, he runs around from time to time, trying to fill his quota without actually listening to anything his godchildren really want. Take my parents, for instance.”
Jack had stopped looking through the ledgers completely and was staring at Eva in wonder. She couldn’t help thinking that with his large eyes and full attention, he looked rather adorable. Not that she would tell him that. It would probably embarrass the life out of him. Martin would have dropped dead had someone told him that.
“My parents were very happy as woodcutters. They had always planned to have a small family and to enjoy their simple life in the forest. But Mortimer knew better. So against their wishes and pleas, he gave them a mansion in Torina, Astoria’s capital, and made them wealthy merchants.” She tried to stifle a giggle. “He also promised them many children, so six girls and one boy later, here we are. Some of the wealthiest people in Astoria, and they don’t even want it.”
Jack scratched the back of his head and stared at the window as though he could see through it, despite the night. “Huh,” was all he finally said.
“And if that didn’t make us odd enough, my parents keep a small farm on our land in the middle of the city, just because they miss the woods so much.” She wrinkled her nose. “None of us children like it very much, but Rynn is rather good to go out and help them often enough.”
Jack slowly picked up a pile of ledgers and placed it back on the desk, but Eva shook her head and pointed to the opposite corner.
“That one goes there. If a hair is out of place when he returns, he’ll know someone’s been here for sure.”
“So how did you end up out here?” he asked, moving the pile where she indicated. “I assume since Mortimer is the one who found me that he’s responsible for this somehow.”
“Oh, he’s more than a little responsible. This entire abduction is his fault.” Even now, the words tasted bitter in her mouth. “I wasn’t born with any sort of magic, but last year when I did a good deed, he waltzed in and decided I should be rewarded as well.”
Jack had grabbed another stack of ledgers, but he stopped and tilted his head, studying her closely. “What did you do?”
Eva paused. Her parents had strictly forbidden her from telling anyone about her gift. But he knew she was responsible for the famine. What worse could happen? She was already kidnapped and being forced to use her abilities against her will, and according to the duke, would eventually be forced into matrimony as well.
Oh, hang it all.
“I gave another young woman my dress so she could have something to be married in after hers was ruined.”
“So that
merited what exactly? I mean, I know you do something with harps and farms, but . . .”
“I have played the harp all my life,” she said, pulling a new ledger down with more force than was necessary. “So Mortimer, in his great wisdom, decided that because my parents were woodcutters, he would tie my gift to a farm.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyhow, he made it so that when I play the harp, if my heart is happy, plants will grow. If my heart is sad, they’ll die.” She shrugged. “The duke was unfortunately in Astoria when Mortimer gave me my gift and heard about it, and he was searching for me ever since, apparently.”
Understanding slowly dawned on Jack’s face. His mouth fell open, then he closed it, only to let it fall open again. “So you were telling the truth yesterday. You really are the—”
“Every morning, I play a song to make the duke’s crops grow, and every evening, if what you say is true, I apparently play to kill everything else.”
Jack put the ledger down that he had just picked up and went to stand next to the window. As he stared out into the darkness, Eva’s stomach began to turn. What would he think of her now? She’d admitted her magic to him the day before. But now that he’d seen the entire truth in all its glory, would he still help her? Or would he be too angry?
For some reason, she realized Jack’s disappointment in her would be far more difficult to bear than anything she’d been through so far. She couldn’t let him down, too. Not after all she’d lived with over the last four weeks. To her surprise, however, a warm hand lifted her chin, and she found herself staring up into a face not only devoid of anger, but filled with compassion.
“We’ll find a way to stop him and get you out . . . without letting him hurt your family,” Jack said softly. “I promise.”
An Unnatural Beanstalk Page 9
