Tangled Webs

by Lee Bross

  “So glad to see you awake, my dear.” He met Arista’s stare openly, then directed the girl to set her tray on the table next to the bed. The girl curtsied, not meeting their eyes, then stood silently against the wall.

  Arista tugged the quilt tighter around her body. “Where are my clothes?” Her voice came out low and raspy. She swallowed against the rawness still in her throat. Wild poured water from a new crystal pitcher and handed it to her. With shaking fingers, she took it and downed the contents in two mouthfuls.

  “Your dress was quite ruined from the smoke, so I took the liberty of having one of the girls—about your size—find something appropriate for you to wear. It’s in the wardrobe when you’re ready.” The glass wobbled as she handed it back to Wild, and he gestured for her to sit. She sank to the edge of the bed gratefully. She hated appearing weak, but Wild made no mention of her state. For that she gave silent thanks.

  “I’ve brought you some things to eat. I didn’t know your preferences, so I had the cook include a few choices. Your weapon is there, next to the tray.” Arista glanced to where he pointed. Her knife handle poked out from behind the tray, cleaned of Bones’s blood. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. If she were a prisoner, he would have hidden it away.

  “What happened? How did I get here?” she asked again.

  “What do you remember?” he asked, instead of answering her question.

  An image popped into her head. “A fire?” Wild nodded. At his confirmation, more images rushed to fill her head, as if the first had opened a door for the rest. The room swam. Bones. His fists. The dark room. And, oh God, the fire.

  Becky.

  “Where is Becky? Is she…” Arista couldn’t say the word. She now remembered the cold, limp feel of Becky’s hand as she’d held it in the final moments before everything disappeared.

  “Your friend is quite safe, though we weren’t sure for a few days whether she would regain consciousness or not. She didn’t have the fever you did. The physician did what he could, tended to her wounds, but left the rest up to the girl. She woke yesterday.”

  Fever? Days? In her own mind, only a day at most had passed. “How long have we been here?”

  “Four days.”

  No matter how hard she tried, Arista could not reconcile that over half a week had passed. “How did you find me? You were the one who saved me?” Vague dreamlike recollections filtered in and out of her mind. Wild had been there at one point. Only it had not been a dream at all.

  “I was,” he said.

  When he didn’t elaborate, she filled in the blanks on her own. “You were following me?”

  “It wasn’t so much following, as going in the same direction. I had business to tend to in that particular area of London. When you left the party and I noticed your usual companion absent, I did what any gentleman would do. I saw you home safely.”

  “You followed me,” she said again. How could he have followed her all that way without her sensing him there?

  As if he knew what she thought, he smiled. “I can be quite invisible when I want to. And I know those alleyways as well as you.”

  One did not earn a reputation like Wild’s without the ability to disappear, of course.

  “I had concluded my business, and that’s when I saw smoke coming from the building into which you had vanished. The door was locked, but I heard pounding. With my associate’s help, we broke the door in. I brought you here, to one of my establishments, to recover. The rest…well, you know.” He waved his hand around the room.

  “Is Bones…?” She could still hear the echoes of his furious howling; still feel his heavy hand slamming into her over and over again. Wild’s eyes narrowed.

  “No one else got out. The fire had consumed almost everything by the time my men broke through the door. We were almost too late to save you and your friend. The entire block is gone now.”

  Bones. Could he really be dead?

  That meant she and Becky were free from him. And Nic…had he been searching for her? What if he thought she perished in the fire? “I need to let someone know I’m okay.” Then she remembered that Wild knew Nic. He had alluded as much at Lady Carstair’s party. “Can you bring him here?”

  Wild looked at her curiously, a small smile on his lips, as if he were testing her memory. “Who would that be?”

  “Nic. But you knew that already, didn’t you? You two have talked before. Nic mentioned it the night before the fire. Where is he? Is he working for you now? You better not have hurt him.” She started to push upright, but the room swam in her vision. Her own body’s betrayal forced her to lie back down, breathless and weak. “I need to see him.”

  “I last spoke with your friend a day before the fire. I waited for him to accept my generous offer, and had also hoped he would convince you to join us as well. Things…took an unexpected turn, though, and I assure you that I’ve not been in contact with him since.” Arista watched Wild carefully. Was that a tic at the corner of his eye? It happened so fast she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps the fog in her head was clouding her judgment.

  “I will have a few men ask around, discreetly of course, and if they hear any word, you will be the first to know. For now, you must concentrate on your recovery. You are alive and free, my dear. The world is at your feet. All you have to do now is take it.” Wild smiled again. His eyes sparkled and Arista found herself caught up in the vibrancy she saw in them. Her own lips lifted in response.

  “I have not made my decision yet.” Her reply was a test. To see if his charm would be replaced by anger.

  But his smile did not falter. “Perhaps after you’ve eaten we can discuss the terms more clearly in the garden?”

  Arista glanced at the window, and saw it was dark outside. Time remained tangled in her head.

  “Thank you.” He was giving her a choice, something no one else had ever done. Her entire life had been dictated by other people, for their own gain. It slowly started to sink in that with Bones gone, Arista was free. Free to do as she wanted.

  She could choose to work with Wild, and it would benefit her in ways she had only ever dreamed. Nic had wanted the power that went along with the money, and though she denied it, there was always a measure of satisfaction when Lady A brought a member of the aristocracy to their knees.

  If Wild were telling the truth. That remained to be seen. So far, he had done nothing to make her think otherwise.

  A knock came at the door. The maid hastened to open it at Wild’s nod. “I have business to attend to, but I’ve asked the staff to draw a bath for you to enjoy at your leisure. The door locks from the inside for your protection. When you’re ready, just ask Cecily to show you to the garden.”

  A line of servants marched into the room. Each carried two steaming buckets of water. They disappeared behind a painted screen in the corner, and poured the water into something back there. After the last person left, the maid from before moved beside Arista. “Would you be needing help, miss?”

  “Help?” Arista’s gaze darted between Wild, the maid, and the screen.

  “With your bath, miss?” The maid crossed the room and folded the screen back. A waist-high copper tub sat in the corner, steam rising from within. They expected her to bathe in that…monstrosity?

  She’d never had an actual bath before. Not a get completely undressed and submerge yourself in a tub of hot water bath.

  “No.” Arista looked between Wild and the maid, who then glanced quizzically back at Wild. Panic made her skin feel tight. She pulled the quilt to her neck. Would they force her into that thing if she refused? Her gaze slid to her knife.

  “I can have your friend sent over to assist you, if that would make you more comfortable,” Wild said softly. “At least she might help you wash up?”

  Yes, she wanted to see Becky for herself, and could use the basin to wash her face and hands. “That is fine.”

  The maid hurried out of the room and Wild followed. At the door, he hesitated. His eyes were unrea
dable when he looked over at her. “I’ve just realized that I know you only by one name. The prudence of calling you Lady A outside of your disguise might make for unwanted gossip. As we’ve not yet reached a deal, I think it wise to remain silent regarding that information. Don’t you?”

  She nodded, but not because a deal had been made. If word got out she was Lady A, if they knew what she looked like under the mask, there would be nowhere to hide. The chances of getting killed would be high, whether she took Wild up on his offer or not.

  Wild waited and Arista knew he wanted her name. She had no intention of giving him that information. Silence echoed in the room. “Ana,” she lied. In the market, there was a girl that Nic often called out to. Flirted with. Her name was Ana.

  Wild nodded in satisfaction and left the room, pausing long enough to hold the door for Becky, who hurried inside. Arista did not see Wild leave. Her focus was on her friend.

  Arista stood and met Becky’s hesitant gaze. Becky wore a simple blue dress similar to the maid’s. She stayed frozen in the middle of the room, her hands clenched tightly together. She was still scared.

  The covers fell off Arista to the floor as she got up.

  Angry bruises marred Becky’s arms; they looked like shadows thrown haphazardly across her body. A larger black discoloration covered the part of Becky’s face that had been injured previously. A square of white linen had been taped over one eye to hide the damage done there.

  “Oh, Becky, I’m so sorry.” Arista’s voice cracked and then broke. She wanted to throw her arms around her friend, but what if Becky hated her now? Arista would not blame her.

  It wasn’t the first time Becky had been marred by a man with angry fists. Arista’s empty stomach flipped with guilt. She had promised her friend that no one would ever hurt her again, and yet she had stood by helplessly while Bones beat Becky into unconsciousness. Blame weighed so heavily inside her that Arista could barely lift her arms.

  “Oh, miss.” Becky quickly crossed the room and took one of Arista’s hands in hers. “It wasn’t your fault. That man is pure evil and got what he deserved. Mr. Wild told me about the fire and how he pulled us out. If it weren’t for him…” Becky’s hands trembled, and Arista settled her free hand over her friend’s. The girl’s shaking quieted under the contact.

  “We got nowhere to go. No money or clothes or food. Everything is gone,” Becky whispered. “What are we going to do now, miss? What will we do?” A quiet note of desperation had entered her voice. Women had very few choices for employment in London. Becky was a masterful seamstress, but no reputable shop would hire a disfigured girl with no references.

  A tear splashed down onto her hands, and Arista looked up. This close, she could see the blue and green and black of Becky’s bruises much clearer. A small cut ran from the corner of her mouth, covered with a thin line of crusted blood.

  A fresh wave of rage and guilt burned Arista’s skin. She should have been able to stop Bones. Nic had taught her to fight, to take care of herself. She should have protected Becky. But she had not. She had failed her friend. The only thing she could do to make sure Becky would not have to live on the street, or worse, was to work with Wild.

  “You’ll be safe and no one will ever get close enough to hurt you again. I promise I’ll take care of you,” Arista said. “Don’t worry about anything except getting better.”

  Dealing with Wild, partnering with him, meant taking an enormous risk, but she had no other option. Arista had no skills, save those of a thief. An alliance was the only way to make sure that Becky stayed safe from now on.

  She would agree to Wild’s request. There really was no other choice. She had no money, no means of leaving London. But there were a few things he had to get for them first—things Arista needed in place before they made their deal. She let go of Becky’s hand and turned around toward the wardrobe. The room kept turning after she stopped. Arista fumbled to right herself. Becky rushed to her side. “Miss, when did you eat last? You look so pale.”

  When had she? Before the fire? She’d had a small pastry at the ball, but that had been—how many nights ago? With so much lost time, she really had no idea.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. It wasn’t like she hadn’t gone days without food before.

  “Sit.” Becky guided her to the edge of the bed, where Arista sat carefully. Things weren’t completely steady yet.

  The covered silver tray had sat untouched, forgotten, but as soon as Becky lifted the cover, delicious aromas escaped from beneath. Arista’s stomach growled loudly. “Oh, miss, look at all this food!” Becky said.

  A meal fit for a queen. Or at least, what Arista thought a queen might eat. The tray held delicately cut triangles of toast, a pile of fluffy eggs, pastries, biscuits, a small crystal glass with what appeared to be juice of some sort, and a pile of fruit cut to resemble flowers.

  “The kitchen was starting to prepare for breakfast already. I hope this is okay?” Becky said.

  “What time is it?’ Arista asked.

  “Just before dawn, miss. Here—eat this first, to ease your stomach.” Becky handed her a triangle of toast, and though she knew better, Arista was far too hungry to eat slowly. It disappeared in one bite. She reached for the glass of juice and swallowed down the contents in two large gulps.

  The second piece of toast tasted even better, if that was possible. It didn’t matter that both pieces were cold or that the butter sat in a greasy heap on top. The bread she knew had always been days old; stale, dry, and hard to even swallow. This melted in her mouth, and the sweet creamy taste of butter coated her tongue.

  Despite the disapproval in Becky’s eye, Arista took a pastry from the tray. They were common at the higher-class masquerades, but she rarely had the stomach to eat while waiting to deal with a client. “Becky, I need to ask you something. Did you tell Wild anything about me? About us?”

  Her friend’s eye grew round. “Of course not, miss. I know how important discretion is.” Becky wrung her hands tightly in her apron. “He…he did ask if I knew your real name, though.”

  Arista’s hand froze, the pastry halfway to her mouth. Only Nic knew her real name, and he never, ever called her by it. She was simply “gypsy” to him, but maybe Becky had heard them talking about it at one time. Maybe she had told Wild. Arista had not missed her friend’s look of admiration when Wild left the room earlier. He had saved them, and therefore won approval.

  “Becky, what did you tell him?”

  Becky’s gaze dropped to her hands. The small bit of bread sat like lead in Arista’s stomach.

  “I realized when he asked me that I don’t know what it is. Is that bad, miss? That I don’t know your real name? Mr. Nic calls you ‘gypsy,’ but I should remember it, right?” Becky was becoming visibly upset now. Her hands shook on her lap. “Do you suppose the fire made me forget?”

  Arista hated seeing her friend distraught, but there was relief at knowing Becky did not know her real name. She reached out and took her hand. “I told Wild my name was Ana, so if he asks again, you can tell him.”

  “Ana, miss?”

  “Yes—Ana.” Now that Arista knew Becky had not told Wild, the panic receded and hunger replaced it with a fierce intensity. She popped the entire pastry into her mouth.

  The flaky crust began to dissolve as soon as it hit her tongue. An explosion of tart lemon and sweet sugar filled her mouth. Arista closed her eyes and savored every exquisite second. When she opened them, Becky stood next to the table, her hands clasped in front of her stomach.

  “Becky, eat.” Arista licked sticky sugar crystals off her fingers.

  “I’ve eaten plenty, miss. Mr. Wild made sure I was taken care of. I don’t know how to ever thank him.” She saw a look of pure adoration on Becky’s face again. It was clear that the Thief Taker had made one ally, at least.

  Arista decided to work with him, but she did not trust him yet. She wiped her hands on her nightgown and left the half-empty tray where it sat. “I
need to clean up and meet with Wild. I have an idea, so don’t worry about anything. We will be fine. More than fine, actually.” She laughed. When had she last felt any real hope? Arista crossed to the stand and took the pitcher. If she dipped it into the bath water, she could wash enough to be presentable. When Arista stepped up to the tub, Becky gasped.

  “Oh miss, a bath! I can help you. I used to help my young ladies, before…” Her voice trailed off. If Arista ever found out the name of the rich bastard who’d hurt Becky, hell would not be a safe place to hide.

  “It’s okay, I’m only going to wash in the basin.” Arista tried to usher Becky back, but she would not move. When Arista looked up, determination shone from Becky’s uninjured eye. Arista knew that look. When Becky was stubborn, nothing could sway her.

  Arista glanced at the huge copper tub, the height of her waist, filled almost to the top with water. A thin vapor rested on the surface, and a neatly folded white square of cloth and a cake of soap sat on a small table.

  “No, I’m not getting into that. It’s indecent!” Arista held the pitcher in front of her like a shield.

  “Oh miss, it’s really not!” Becky said. “I had one in my room just yesterday and it was amazing. Just once, wouldn’t you like to know what it feels like? Not to wash with freezing water, and only the parts that show? Imagine being clean, smelling like lavender or roses. I could wash your hair for you, too.”

  Arista had not seen Becky so excited, or so single-minded, since she had tried on her Lady A disguise and immediately demanded more frontal coverage. Well-bred ladies, though prudish in many areas, showed off ample amounts of skin when attending a party.

  The last thing Arista wanted was to smell like lavender. It reminded her too much of the ladies she watched at the parties. The ones who wore their dresses indecently low to entice the men. No, she was more than happy to run a wet cloth rubbed with castor soap through her hair after that dreaded wig came off. Another swipe of it over her body and that was fine for her.