Rise of the Arcane Fire (The Secret Order)

by Bailey, Kristin

  That took me aback, and I couldn’t hide it. Lucinda had warned me of the propensity for spying within the ranks of the Society, but this was ridiculous.

  Mary clearly felt she’d scored a touch, and decided to lunge again. “Seeing as how a music box trussed up in a silver bow is hardly an average purchase for a young earl, I had to wonder who the gift was intended for.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “His mother?”

  “Oh, you think you are so clever. You should be careful, dear. Men don’t enjoy the company of plain women with keen minds.” Now her entire face had taken on a crumpled look, and her forced smile reminded me of a small growling dog.

  Plain. Honestly. She’d have to do better than that. As if she were some great beauty. “If that is true, and men do in fact prefer the company of frivolous women with dull minds, you should have no shortage of suitors.” I shrugged and went back to my figures.

  Mary planted her palms on the counting desk and leaned across it, pure rage alight in her yellow-green eyes.

  “Don’t be coy with me. I know what you are. You may think you are so superior with your nomination to the Academy, but you are nothing but a greedy whore. I know about your gypsy lover, and now you have your sights set on Lord Strompton. I will ruin you if you even think you are worthy of Lord Strompton’s attention. The headmaster may have taken you under his wing, but it’s the headmaster’s wife you truly take after.” Her voice hardly came above a whisper, but I felt the slap of it.

  I began to quake, feeling suddenly ill as if I had taken a physical blow. Tears burned my eyes, but I absolutely could not release them. How dare she call me a whore. She was the one parading about town with her expensive dresses, tittering friends, and nasty rumors. I was not the one hunting down a rich husband like a mad dog. And here I was on the verge of crying in front of this horrid wretch. I absolutely would not. I would not give her the satisfaction, even though I felt as if she’d just stabbed me with a knife.

  She wasn’t worth it. I had to swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. I had a few choice words I could call her. My unspoken insults felt like poison on my tongue, but I refused to sink so low. I’d use the truth instead.

  I stepped around the counting desk, keeping one hand on it so as not to tempt myself to strike at her. “Lord Strompton will seek the affection of anyone he desires. If you feel the need to come here to badger me about what he chooses to do with his money and gifts, that says very little about me and volumes about his feelings, or lack thereof, for you.”

  Mary huffed, then tried her best to fix a stiff smile on her face, but it did no good. I could see the hate in her, and her frustration showed in the way she crushed her reticule. “Come, ladies. I see nothing of value here.” And as one they marched back out the door, the bell jangling merrily.

  I exhaled, letting my hands shake. I had won the battle, but it was clear the war was far from over.

  The question was, how far was she willing to take this? She seemed the sort to attempt to ruin me through gossip. A single rumor might be easily dismissed, but there was nothing anyone could do to combat a battalion of lies coming from multiple people. I had no doubt her friends would gleefully set their tongues wagging.

  For as terrible and scandalous as those rumors could be, especially the one concerning the headmaster, it was my own words that concerned me. I had practically admitted that David was courting me, and it wouldn’t be long before Mary’s friends spread that rumor all through the Society with or without her prompting.

  Our wedding would be planned in a fortnight.

  Will would not appreciate hearing the news that I was intended for an earl. Even if it could never be true.

  Save for one dance, David and I had hardly exchanged a kind word. No one had any reason whatsoever to believe I held affection for him.

  My neck and arms tingled. I crossed them. David was a troublesome problem as well. As soon as he heard about what I had said to Mary, there would be no stop to his pursuit. He’d made his intentions clear.

  I would be caught with the only man I wanted hating me, and the one I did not want courting me. It was practically Shakespearean, though not nearly as humorous. I just hoped things wouldn’t end tragically.

  I didn’t need this. I didn’t need any of this. I didn’t need the dark stain of my own self-doubt slowly spreading through me like ink soaking through paper. I didn’t need scandal and deceit. I didn’t need the countless small tools, springs, and bolts I constantly had to fish out of my pocket every evening. I’d had enough.

  No person in their right mind would continue this torture for absolutely no gain. I had no friends at the Academy, only scorn. I had no accolades, only sabotage, and the admiration given in the form of David’s claim on me, I certainly hadn’t asked for. It wasn’t making my life any easier.

  Enough.

  I grasped a piece of parchment out of my counting desk and wrote a simple and concise letter to the head of the Order. My script looked unsteady and scrawled, but it was legible enough. I wasn’t foolish, and I wasn’t going to torture myself for nothing, when a perfectly wonderful future awaited me in Scotland.

  That was the heart of the matter. At one point I thought that becoming an apprentice to the Order would be a magnificent thing and make me feel whole somehow. So far the Academy had given me nothing but strife.

  I was done with it.

  Mrs. Brindle walked in just as I finished sealing the envelope. She took one look at me, and concern immediately fell upon her face. “Is everything all right, dear?”

  I stood tall, my head high. “Of course.” I handed her the letter with a crisp flick of my hand, though it quavered in the air. “Please post this letter for me immediately, and then send word to Lucinda that she’ll need to find a new shopkeeper. I’m leaving for Scotland in the morning.”

  Early the next morning I had the modest things I owned packed into one small case. I set it by the door and waited for Bob to hitch the cart. I had a train to catch to Inverness.

  Not a single book had been placed in my luggage. I’d left Simon Pricket’s journals where they belonged, in his workshop. I would have no need of them anymore.

  Just as I was finishing out the last of my accounts, the door opened, the bell clanging at my nerves.

  “We’re closed,” I snapped.

  “Not to me, you’re not.”

  I looked up to see Lucinda standing in the door. She had the stern look of a governess who was very disappointed in her pupil. One part of me wanted to rush to her and confess all my woes. The other part hated her for standing there, because I knew her intentions.

  “You can’t stop me.” I shut the book on the accounts.

  Lucinda didn’t even blink. “I suppose it’s fortunate I was in London, then. I can see you off.”

  “Thank you.” Suspicious, I felt her watching my back as I left the shop to gather my bonnet and gloves near the fireplace in the parlor. Lucinda followed me there and remained in the doorway, blocking my path.

  “It’s not like you to run away.” She removed her bonnet and held it lightly by the ribbons. How nice of her to settle in. She could put her bonnet right back atop her head, because I wasn’t going to stay.

  “It’s over. I’ve had my fill. I was foolish to think I was ever capable of doing this.” I hastily jammed my bonnet on, not caring a whit for how my hair looked beneath it.

  Lucinda seemed bemused, but I didn’t bother to straighten it. “From what I understand, you are one of the finest students in the class.” Lucinda removed one glove, then the other. “According to Oliver you show remarkable promise, and have even bested some of his early apprentice designs.”

  My shock forced me back a step. But it didn’t take me long to recover from it. “It isn’t the studies. Set a problem before me, and I will find a solution. That is nothing more than stubbornness and a willingness to read.”

  “And yet you’re unwilling to solve this problem.”

  My face grew hot. “Don’t
lecture me. I’ve had enough of it. I’m not here to live out your ambition to be part of the Order. You don’t know what I’ve had to endure.”

  Lucinda reached out and took my hand. “Then tell me.” She led me to a seat, and sat down next to me, keeping my hand folded in hers.

  Until that moment I hadn’t known how alone I’d truly been. Everything came pouring out of me in a rush. I told her about the scorn from the other apprentices, the accidents, my guilt at having hurt Oliver, then the sabotage. I knew the headmaster wouldn’t want me to say anything about that, but I had to tell someone, and I trusted that Lucinda wouldn’t tell a soul, not even Oliver. I told her my fears that the man in the mask was hiding in every shadow, waiting to strike, and confessed how the mystery of what had transpired between Haddock and my two grandfathers made me realize I knew nothing of my family’s history.

  With tears in my eyes I told her how alone I felt, and that I couldn’t trust the only friend I thought I had in Peter.

  And finally I recounted the argument I’d had with Mary Thornby in the shop the day before. Lucinda seemed surprised at the mention of her brother’s recent behavior toward me, but thankfully she said nothing, only listened. At the end of all of it, I felt hollow and empty, aching for something I could not even define.

  When no more words came, Lucinda bowed her head. “I apologize, Meg. I’ve not been a very good friend to you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I wiped a hasty hand beneath my eyes and turned from her.

  “No, it does.” She handed me her handkerchief. “I have been too caught up in my own affairs.”

  Speaking all my frustrations aloud may have alleviated some of the pressure in my head, but words were of no real use anymore. “You can’t change anything. The fact is, I’m one person, and I’m tired of facing an army of those determined to see me fail.”

  “I don’t wish to see you fail.” Lucinda gave me a determined smile. “And I know you won’t. You concentrate on your studies. Leave Mary to me.”

  “I wish I could. I thoroughly insulted her, and she won’t soon forget it. She said I take after the headmaster’s wife. I don’t even know the woman, but it sounded like an insult,” I said.

  “What did she say exactly?” Lucinda asked as she knit her brow.

  Unfortunately, the exact words had haunted me all night. “She accused me of being Will’s lover, then had an outrageous notion that I somehow had designs on your brother as well. Then she said that Headmaster Lawrence may have taken me under his wing, but it’s his wife I take after.”

  Lucinda laughed.

  “It’s not amusing.”

  “Do you have designs on my brother?” she asked as she tilted her head slightly, with a wickedly curious gleam in her eye.

  “Heavens no!” A shiver trickled down my back. I ignored it.

  “Well, then, there’s nothing to worry about.” Lucinda patted my knee. “Lawrence’s wife, Emma, has always been a kind soul. It would be a far greater insult to take after Mary Thornby. We should feel sorry for her, really. She has harbored feelings for David since she was three.”

  “Which makes her dangerous,” I said, taking off my lopsided bonnet and placing it on the table. “What happened to the headmaster’s wife?”

  Lucinda took a long draw of breath, then let it out in a resigned sigh. “Mary was dredging up long-dead gossip. The rumors about Emma died down at least fifteen years ago, perhaps more. I don’t even know why Mary brought it up, other than that she wanted to evoke a sense of scandal.” Lucinda waved a dismissive hand in the air. “If she had any sense at all, she would have realized you’ve never heard of it. So much for verbal warfare. She can’t even load the cannons properly.”

  I chuckled at that. However, it did prove Mary was all too willing to use gossip as a weapon. “What was the rumor?” I asked.

  Lucinda’s expression turned serious. “If I told you, I’d be no better than the rest. There was never any proof of anything salacious, only conjecture based on the thinnest of suspicions, and I couldn’t believe it of Emma. All you need know is that you should never feel ashamed for how you feel about Will.”

  I wasn’t ashamed of Will. I never would be, but it was difficult to remind myself what I should be feeling when so many other things seemed to get in the way of it. David’s words still lingered, that I only loved Will because I had no other option. I didn’t believe it was true. “According to Lady Chadwick, David and I should have been betrothed.”

  I don’t know why I said it. I supposed I needed to know what Lucinda would say on the matter and if she, too, would push me toward her brother.

  Lucinda looked at me as if she knew exactly what I was really asking her. “Thankfully, your mother had enough sense to deny my father’s wishes, twice, both with her own betrothal and then again with yours. It’s why she kept you from the Order.” Lucinda’s gaze drifted as her expression became heavy with the weight of her thoughts. “My father is dead. He no longer has a bearing on either of our lives. I should have realized that before the spectacle I made of myself at his memorial. I was so caught up in my revenge against him and my mother, I very nearly ruined my own brother and sister. That wasn’t my intent.”

  She sighed. “Marry whom you will, Meg. I have never once regretted my first marriage, and I know your mother never regretted her decision either.”

  I bowed my head and stared at the callus beginning to form on the side of my first finger. “I miss Will.”

  Lucinda nodded. “I know you do. He’s a good man.” She smiled. “Not that my brother isn’t.”

  She stood and held out her hands to help me to my feet. “You have already done more than most ever could have. Even if I had had the chance to become an apprentice, I doubt I could have done so well as you. I know it is difficult, but these challenges will not last. The saboteur will be caught, and things put right once more. One day this difficulty will fade and your achievement will shine through.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, and doubted I could even speak.

  Lucinda picked up her bonnet. “Now, are we bound for the train?”

  She was right. I had come too far to give up now. If I gave in, then all the struggle I had suffered would have been for naught. I shook my head.

  “Good, then I should return this.” She produced a letter from her reticule and handed it to me.

  It was my letter of resignation from the Academy. Mrs. Brindle had never posted it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I ENTERED THE ACADEMY WITH a new sense of purpose. As I passed before the statue of Athena holding her sword aloft, the shifting light from the moving colored glass made it seem as if she were watching me closely. I held my head high and nodded to her, one woman to another. They may have enshrined her on a beautiful pedestal, but I intended my mark on the Academy to be every bit as deep as hers.

  The apprentices met in the assembly hall, but it was clear we weren’t to remain there. Instructor Barnabus bunched us into a large cluster and told us not to take our seats.

  I lingered around the edges of the group. The boys all talked quietly, leaning toward one another so they could speak in hushed tones. Every time I drew near, they fell silent and stared at me until I was forced to move on. I caught sight of Peter, but he turned his shoulder to speak with Noah. Samuel broke ranks and sat down, kicking his feet out and crossing his arms.

  David was about to say something to him, when he glanced at me. He wore his fine silk waistcoat, and shirtsleeves that he’d rolled up to expose the lower half of his arms. Smudges of grease marred his otherwise perfect hands. With his hair tousled he looked a bit rakish, like the proverbial nobleman who longed for adventure and so became a pirate. His eyes warmed as they met mine. He may very well have been handsome, but I wasn’t impressed, truly.

  He took a step toward me, and I turned and walked with purpose toward Manoj and Michael.

  Thankfully, Headmaster Lawrence appeared at the far door and everyone turned to give him t
heir full attention. I wasn’t sure if anyone else found the dark circles under his eyes, or the sallow appearance of his skin, as troublesome as I did.

  No one else knew what endeavors he was engaging in in the cellar. I worried for him. He drew himself up with a large breath, then said, “Follow me,” without any further explanation.

  We did as we were told, forming two neat lines as we walked out of the lower hall and then turned down the long corridor that led toward the cellars.

  To make things worse, I was walking next to Peter. He refused to speak a word as we stepped side by side down the long spiral stair into the cellars.

  Instead of turning toward the archives, we passed the casks, and Barnabus opened the large arched wooden doors on the far side. I tried not to stare at the cask that hid the entrance to the secret chamber where I’d seen Headmaster Lawrence working on his machine. I had to tell myself it was just a wine barrel like all the others.

  Once we were all within the cavernous chamber, Barnabus shut the heavy doors with a resounding boom. The chamber we were in was vast, easily as large as the archives or the wine cellar, with heavy stone pillars supporting the floors of the Academy above us. There were no windows, and for the most part the room was empty.

  An automaton stood at the center of the room, his head bowed as if he were quietly sleeping on his feet. He was easily the largest automaton I’d seen, fifteen feet tall with limbs like tree trunks and hands that could crush a man’s skull like an egg.

  I wasn’t the only one to gape at the enormous machine. The rest of the apprentices had surrounded it, admiring it from just outside the automaton’s reach.

  “Allow me to introduce you to Alfred.” The headmaster’s voice echoed against the walls. “He was one of the earliest functional automatons the Order ever created.” Headmaster Lawrence circled the giant with his hands clasped behind his back.

  I knew about Alfred. Simon had written extensively about him. It was one thing to study a drawing of him. Seeing him in person was quite another experience.