Three
LUNATICS AND THIEVES
“Charming girl,” Sebastian intoned to my retreating backside.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning around. What’s more I had no desire to see the cocky smirk on his face. For that matter, I never wanted to see him or his shockingly blue eyes again. Ever. I rubbed my upper arm where, for some strange reason, I could still feel him holding me. There was no rational explanation for this phenomenon, except Sebastian was a devil and his fingers left scorch marks.
How dare he think I had nothing but fripperies occupying my thoughts. It wasn’t his formula under discussion, was it? No. If I had only ribbons and lace rolling around in my brain, how did he suppose I’d made a recipe for undetectable invisible ink? Never mind that I’d nearly roasted myself alive while mixing it. I had something Lord Evil-Eyes coveted. Why he wanted it prickled and niggled at my brain like an unreachable itch. I vowed to find the answer.
I stiffened my spine enough to satisfy even my mother, tramped up a flight of stairs, made a left turn, and marched down the hall. The second door on the right stood ajar. I peeked into the dormitorium. Hardly a dormitorium. The dim light made it difficult to see, but it appeared to be simply an overly long bedroom with a fireplace at the far end, a few dressing screens, and two large beds arranged along one wall, divided by armoires and side tables. Across from them stood another bed, a writing desk, and a deep window seat.
I took a deep breath and headed in, but came to a sudden halt. My mouth fell open. “What are you doing?” I balled up my fists and stomped toward the three girls leaning over my portmanteau. “Get away from my trunks.”
The tallest of them spun around and I found myself staring at the sharp tip of a dagger. Candlelight glinted against the merciless steel. This was a fighting knife. Judging by my attacker’s fierce glare, rumors about the girls in this school didn’t do them justice. I realized that they might well be murderers or dangerous thieves. Or even madwomen. My bravado sank to the floor leaving me naked with terror, even my thin cloak of anger fell away in tatters. I had nothing left to keep me from shivering. Not even pride.
Her blade did not quiver. That was only me. She held it steady, the point less than an inch from my face. I dared not breathe.
The girl beside her laid a hand on my assailant’s arm, gently lowering the knife. “Put it away, Tess. There’s no need for that.”
“She’s trouble.” Tess frowned at me. “I can tell.”
“Obviously, or she wouldn’t be here.”
Tess grumbled low in her throat, but she flipped the blade, pulled up her skirt, and slid the dagger into a sheath strapped on her calf.
I crossed my arms protectively and struggled to regain an ounce or two of my dignity. “And you?” I asked the girl who appeared to have more control over her emotions. “What are you? Murderers? Or just thieves?”
It was Tess who answered. With a defiant tilt of her chin she reached back, snatched my riding boots from the trunk, and chucked them into an armoire that stood open. “Neither. We were merely helping you unpack.”
I knew better. The armoire was empty except for the boots. “I see, and you’re a liar, as well.” I glanced pointedly at the bandage on her arm. “Now I understand why Miss Stranje locked you in the mummy case. How fortunate for you. I’m surprised she didn’t give you a turn on the rack. In London they hang thieves.”
“Fortunate?” she practically spit the word at me. “You don’t know anything about me. I wasn’t in the case.” She tossed back her long dark hair and tilted her head sideways, indicating the girl who had rescued me. “That would’ve been Jane.”
Of course, Lady Jane.
She didn’t seem the sort of girl who deserved to be shut inside a spiked coffin. She seemed exactly the type of young lady my mother wanted for a daughter. Her alabaster skin and pert smile would’ve charmed all the women at Lady Frampton’s card party. But I didn’t trust her any more than I did Tess. Nothing was as it seemed in this house.
They stood side by side, intentionally blocking my way. I peeked over their shoulders and saw Seraphina, the pale flaxen-haired girl who’d been strapped to the posture board, intently perusing the contents of my trunk, and she had my protractor in her hand.
I shoved past Tess and Jane and snatched it away from her. “You say you’re not thieves, and yet here you are pawing through my things like common criminals. Obviously this sort of thing is why you’re all locked away in this horrid school. And to think I felt sorry for you.”
Tess glared down her patrician nose at me as if I was a bug that needed squashing. “Don’t play all high and mighty with us. You’ve done something wrong or you wouldn’t be here.” She poked my shoulder. “Your turn in the dungeon will come soon enough.”
Seraphina’s forehead was still red, and I noticed a fading bruise on Jane’s chin. Obviously something other than the sharp tines of the sarcophagus had cut Tess’s arm. I backed away, swallowed hard, and fidgeted with the corner of my trunk lid. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did, Miss Holier-Than-Thou. That’s precisely what you meant. You said we deserved a go on the rack. You even mentioned the gallows, as if touching your precious things was a hanging offense.”
“We only went through your things to figure out why you’re here,” Jane said with a huff. “We had to know, our lives depend upon it. You can’t blame us for that.”
I didn’t see how their lives depended upon it, unless they thought I was some sort of violent criminal. Regardless of their reasons … “You supposed my clothing would give you the answer?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Jane looked askance at me, as if I was the irrational one. “We thought Sera would see something and tell us what you are.”
“What I am?” I frowned. “You mean who I am.” I fell back on my hypothesis that the occupants of Stranje House were all mad as hatters.
“No. Sera has a gift. She can—”
Tess flicked Jane’s arm, silencing her. Jane buttoned her lip tighter than an accountant’s purse.
My patience wore thin. “She can what?”
No one answered. Glancing this way and that, they retreated into a mutual pact of silence.
“Look, you lot. It shouldn’t matter to you who I am, or even what I am. I have no intention of staying in this asylum. I’m going to escape as soon as I figure out where…” I hesitated. Where would I go? I couldn’t run home.
“Escape? You?” Tess scoffed and shook her head. “You wouldn’t last five minutes out there.”
I didn’t know if she meant the wolf dogs would tear me apart, or that I wouldn’t survive in the world on my own. Before I could argue she turned to Sera and demanded, “What did you see?”
Sera tilted her head sideways and calmer than a Sunday afternoon answered, “Miss Fitzwilliam lives in a household dominated by men. She does not care much for her appearance, and is far more interested in mathematics and science.” At this juncture she exchanged a knowing look with Jane.
“Science.” Jane nodded as if mulling over the word. “What else?”
“She has recently been involved in a fire—”
“You’re guessing!” I barked. “Or worse, you’ve been listening to idle gossip.”
“Sera doesn’t need to guess,” Tess snapped.
“Very well, then what is she? A soothsayer? More likely a charlatan.” I whirled on the culprit. “How did you find out?”
“It wasn’t difficult.” Seraphina ducked her head sheepishly. But then she recovered her composure and employed the same long-suffering tone I’d used so often on my mother. “First, your dresses were thrown haphazardly into the trunk whereas your books were wrapped and stowed with great care. The scent of ash and smoke permeated this one.” She picked up my most prized possession, an extremely valuable English translation of twelfth-century alchemy experiments in Persia and Arabia. It contained Al-Jildaki’s notes on alloys and chemical extraction, but more important, several ancient
Egyptian formulas for invisible ink.
“Be careful with that.” I reached, but dared not grab it away from her. The crumbling leather binding was too fragile. “There are only five copies in existence.” I’d sent dozens of letters all across Europe, hounding rare book collectors until I finally obtained this copy.
She held it out to me with both hands. “Its importance to you is evidenced by the way your name is written so carefully on the leather cover.”
I took it, exhaled with relief, and tenderly rewrapped the crumbling book in a silk scarf. I tucked it back under the clothing where it had been hidden. My parents would’ve been furious if they’d known I’d smuggled these books into my luggage, but I couldn’t leave them behind. I lifted my lace box lid to make certain my hand-scribed compilation of Da Vinci’s experiments was still safely hidden.
Tess planted her fists on her hips. “So that’s why you’re here? Because of a fire?”
“It was an accident,” I mumbled, heartily tired of explaining. They all circled around me, waiting for more. I shrugged. “If you must know, one of my science experiments got out of hand.”
To my surprise that seemed to satisfy them. Tess turned to Sera. “Anything else?” Sera studied me openly and without shame or any pretense of manners. They all did.
After what seemed like an interminable appraisal, Sera shook her head and spoke about me as if I wasn’t present. “Not much, only odds and ends. Her mother or guardian does not bear her same color hair. Otherwise, she never would’ve selected such unfortunate colors for her clothing. She injured her left arm at some point; see how it won’t hang straight or extend fully. And she’s been in one of our seldom used passages.” She waved her hand at the brownish green tinge of mold staining my hem. “I suspect she took a rather bad fall.” She directed their attention to a rip in the seam of my sleeve. “Or two.” She pointed at the stains where my knees had landed against the passageway.
“I’m sorry. Nothing conclusive.” Sera cast her gaze to the floor. Her silky white hair fell across her face like a curtain. Tilting her head, she peeked out at me and added softly, “Obviously she’s intelligent.”
“Obviously.” Tess’s face twisted in exasperation. “I doubt a stupid girl would be hauling around books on ancient chemistry.”
“I hope she is also generous.” A voice came from the shadows. “Because I would like to borrow this excellent book on plants.”
Another of my books stolen? I turned, searching for the fourth girl. As if emerging from the woodwork, the most exotic creature I’d ever seen stepped forward. I was astonished. She’d been here the whole time. How had she blended into the shadows so perfectly and moved with such quiet stealth? A delicate girl, with dark shining eyes, smooth whiskey-colored skin, she was draped in a swath of cinnamon brown fabric trimmed in filigreed saffron.
“You’re from India,” I blurted, and instantly felt clumsy.
“Brilliant,” Tess mumbled, and cast me a look of derision.
The newcomer dipped into an elegant foreign-looking curtsey. “Maya Barrington.”
Hearing her name, I became confused. “You’re English?”
“Half-caste.” She said it quietly, but with so much defiance and pain, that I blushed with shame for my thoughtlessness.
I didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t mean … that is to say, I was surprised. I apologize—”
“No need.” Her voice flowed smooth and cooling over my awkwardness. “But you are correct. I am part English. My father met and married my mother while he was an officer in the East India Company.” Clearly she’d delivered this explanation dozens of times.
I found myself responding with a silent curtsey.
She inclined her head. “You must forgive us for looking through your things. We meant no harm. One never knows who to trust.” Her words washed over me like a calming mist. She held out my botanical guide as if the faded book was a peace offering.
I still felt awkward and boorish. I didn’t know whether to take back my book or tell her to keep it.
“It is a most useful book. Perhaps you will let me look at it again someday?”
Her soothing tone made my tense shoulders relax and I took it from her. “Yes,” I muttered, not wanting to say there would be no someday, because I was leaving.
“See. We’re not all thieves and charlatans,” Jane said, as if sharing a private joke with the others. “Maya is our diplomat.”
Tess still brooded. She entreated Sera once more, “Are you quite certain? You didn’t see anything else about her?” She said see as if it meant much more than observing my height or noting my abundance of freckles.
Sera tilted her head, her silken hair shimmered in the candlelight as she answered no. “Perhaps, you—”
Tess cut her off with a quick shake of her head.
“Well, that’s that, then.” Jane brushed out her skirts. “C’est la vie.”
Tess uncrossed her arms and stared at me with obvious disappointment. She turned to Jane. “I was sure it would be her.”
Jane answered mournfully. “Time will tell.”
Tess pressed her eyes closed for a minute as if blocking out something painful. “That’s just it. There’s no time left.”
I didn’t understand what they meant, nor did it matter. I had no intention of staying in this awful place. I grabbed my boots out of the armoire, stuffed them back in my portmanteau, and tried to ignore the disappointment of the girls surrounding me. With an exasperated sigh, I gave in and extended a small olive branch. “If there’s something you would like to know about me, you could simply ask. I don’t have any secrets.”
“Now that is a lie.” Tess backed away as if I’d burned her. “Everyone has secrets.”
Jane merely shrugged and turned away. “Thank you, but we’d rather have heard it from Sera.”
The girls of Stranje House were a peculiar lot. Apparently, they all tilted a little too far off the starboard beam. But then again, Sebastian probably thought the same about me. Was I as out of plumb as these girls? Or was I worse? I sighed heavily and closed my trunk. I couldn’t ignore the fact that my parents had left me here in this madhouse for some reason.
The girls drifted apart, leaving me alone. It didn’t matter. I was used to solitude. I had always played alone, eaten alone, and been sad alone. Why should tonight be any different? I sat on the nearest bed and picked at a nubbin of wool on my stocking. I needed to face facts. I am a trifle odd. But was I so abnormal that my own parents would dispose of me just as they would a three-legged pup?
Madame Cho barged in and struck the floor with her bamboo walking sick. “Bedclothes. Now.” She thumped it again. The other girls had already scattered like quail into the shadowy corners of the room. I didn’t move.
The old dragon drew up in front of me and threw open my trunk. She yanked out a night rail and flung it at me. Her dark eyes flashed like steel against flint. I swallowed any hope of defiance. She leaned close, so close I grimaced at the smell of rice and fish and leeks. “You sleep now. Unpack tomorrow.”
I had no intention of doing either. I would not sleep. Nor would I unpack. And yet, I couldn’t find the strength to make even a pretense of obedience. I was trapped, a rabbit paralyzed beneath Madame Cho’s snake eyes. My limbs felt heavy and useless, my spirit drained of strength. I hated her, I hated this place, hated this night. So, despite her fierce glare and fishy breath, I just sat there.
Not until she pinched my leg, did I move. Her bamboo cane slapped the hardwood floor, a warning of what would come next if I didn’t comply. “Bedclothes!”
I stood then, and mechanically untied the tapes of my traveling gown. It slipped off and I tossed it across the chest. What did I care if it wrinkled? My petticoats pooled around my feet and I stepped out of them. The old dragon moved away, nodding, pleased to have proven her authority over me.
The evening chill prickled my flesh. I shivered, more determined than ever to escape. All I needed was a proper plan. I may
be odd and peculiar, I may be freckled and unlovable, but there’s one thing I know for certain about myself: I am good at making plans. Even if some of those plans do, occasionally, burst into flames.
Four
NIGHT CREEPERS
I lay in bed, next to a stranger who may or may not be deranged and stared into the darkness. Alone. Cast out. Discarded by my parents like so much rubbish. How could they do this? My head throbbed. How long, I wondered, how long would they leave me here?
I posed the question to my bedmate, Sera. “How long have you been at Stranje House?”
“Two years.” She sighed mournfully. “And then some.”
Two years. She may as well have punched me in the stomach. I turned away and curled on my side. Two years was an eternity. My parents wouldn’t leave me here that long. Surely not. This was merely a punishment. As soon as I demonstrated proper behavior, they would let me return home. Surely.
The more I dwelled on it, the more I conjectured that perhaps they’d sent me to Stranje House out of love. After all, Squire Thurgood had been furious about his burnt orchard. The night of the fire there had been talk of calling in the magistrate, and loud discussions about the proper punishment for young ladies who set fire to their fathers’ stables.
I squeezed the pillow around my head in an attempt to blot out those recollections, because I could not help but recall my father ranting as loud as the Squire. He certainly hadn’t defended me, except to the extent that he refused to allow a magistrate to interfere. He swore he’d handle it himself, not wanting his good name tarnished by the reckless acts of his addlepated daughter.
Oh, yes, I might well be banished to Stranje House for two years.
Or longer.
It all came back to escape. I set to counting the names of people I might impose upon to house me after I escaped. The list was short. To be perfectly frank, the list was blank. My uncle, Lord Brucklesby, would promptly return me to my father. My maternal grandfather would do the same after delivering a hearty lecture and liberally applying a switch to my legs.
A School for Unusual Girls Page 4
