by Kari Edgren
“You’ll do no such thing,” Cate said. “Not until those scrapes are seen to.”
The sudden tension in her arm countered any further refusals. Like an obedient child, I let her guide me to an armchair where I sat stiff-backed on the very edge of the cushion. The blacksmith looked on, but I kept my eyes averted as a flood of warmth passed through me.
“There you are,” Cate said, patting my arm. “Good as new once the dirt and blood are cleaned up. Too bad I can’t say the same thing for that gown. Fanny has a fine hand for sewing, though these rips may exceed her skill.”
I had figured as much. “Thank you,” I said, attempting to stand. “I should go change before anyone else sees me.”
Cate placed a firm hand on my shoulder to keep me from rising. I sank down and looked at her imploringly. I wanted desperately out of her room. Once gone though, I didn’t know if I would ever be able to meet her eyes again.
Oh, why hadn’t I just stayed in my room and written letters to Allison and Katrina? I could have kicked myself for being such a Nosey Nell and giving into my curiosity.
“Tom,” Cate said without taking her eyes from me. “Will you get a wet cloth for Selah? No doubt she will want to freshen up before I explain why you are in my private chamber this afternoon.”
Mr. Faber laughed good-naturedly and pushed to his feet. Based on the state of his long chestnut hair and disheveled clothing, the reason for his visit required no further explanation. Not to mention the hastily donned dressing gown that now covered Cate from nape to floor in a shower of dark green silk. I might have been from a small village in the Colonies, but I knew what it meant when two people had to scramble for clothing after being discovered prostrate together on a new velvet settee.
“Please don’t bother,” I pleaded. Cate didn’t budge an inch, and I tumbled headfirst into a fit of nervous babbling. “Henry discovered the passageway when he followed a young girl into your gardens after the big to-do at Amelia’s party. And then the other night I heard someone pass by my chamber. Curiosity got the best of me, though I should never have gone exploring without permission. Upon my soul, not a word of this shall ever leave my lips.”
Cate looked amused at Mr. Faber. “You don’t usually pass by Selah’s room on the way to mine. Was this the night you arrived in your cups from the tavern?”
The blacksmith nodded solemnly. “Aye, I lost my bearings and almost had to sleep it off inside the walls.” He dipped a cloth into the porcelain basin on the dressing table and squeezed out the excess water. Blood burned anew in my face when he handed it to me, and I took full advantage of the cloth to hide my embarrassment.
Unfortunately, one can only wash for so long. With great reluctance, I brought the cloth down, my face tingling from the thorough scrubbing, and my thoughts somewhat composed for the impending explanation. Cate and Mr. Faber appeared entirely at ease, without the slightest hint of guilt. To be sure, they looked nothing at all like two people should who had just been caught in an illicit love affair.
Be calm, I reminded myself. This is London. People live by different rules here than they do in Hopewell. My chin trembled when I attempted a placid expression. All the same, I squared my shoulders and looked directly at Cate, prepared to just smile and nod as Nora had always advised me to do in such circumstances.
“Selah,” Cate said, gesturing to the blacksmith. “Let me introduce my husband, Mr. Tom Faber.”
My composure fled like a startled finch “Your...your husband?” I gasped, so shocked I completely forgot Nora’s advice. “You’re married to the blacksmith?”
Mr. Faber gave a hearty laugh and bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance again, Miss Kilbrid.”
A thought snapped into place, and my eyes flew back to Cate. “He saw you heal me. Does he know what we are?”
Now it was Cate’s turn to laugh. “Tom Faber is just an alias he has picked up over the years. His real name is Tiarnach O’Brid, so yes he is well aware of our lineage as he shares it himself.”
I stared at Tom, or Tiarnach, my mouth open enough to catch flies if there were any about. He gave me a kind smile then spoke to Cate. “I best be going, Caitria. The Duke of Buckingham has commissioned another automaton.” His eyes cut to me for a second. “And I believe Miss Kilbrid needs some time alone with you.”
“You’re probably right,” Cate said, sounding somewhat wistful.
While I sat dumbfounded in the armchair, Cate and Tom returned to the settee to gather his missing garments. They spoke softly as he pulled on his white stockings and slipped each foot into a black leather shoe. The waistcoat went next, which Cate buttoned.
Tom bent to kiss her cheek. “You may tell Master Filmore that he built a fine piece of furniture.”
Cate laughed. “Don’t forget your hat and coat. It’s raining to soak a man through.”
I stared at my hands, feeling even more the unwanted visitor. I should have been the one to leave, not Tom.
The sudden pad of footsteps caught my attention. Turning my gaze to the wall, I watched in surprise as the wooden panel flew open, and a woman stepped into the room, bundled in a blue woolen cloak.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” Justine Rose said, throwing back the hood and looking straight at Cate. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her eyes flicked to Tom. “And you, too, Father, for I’ve news of that young wretch you’ve been on about.”
Chapter Sixteen
All in the Family
I gripped the arms of the chair as the world wavered before my eyes. In an attempt to dispel the terrible vision, I blinked several times, hoping the woman would either change into someone else, or disappear altogether. The thick copper hair and finely sculpted face remained unaltered, and I was left with the unpalatable truth that Justine Rose had indeed stepped from between the walls into Cate’s private chamber.
No one spoke. Cate stared motionless at the impertinent slut who had just referred to her as mother. Tom stood beside her with an expression of pure consternation, and no wonder, being called father by a young lady near his own age. Looking between the three of them, I felt transported back to the theater where I was the sole spectator on a makeshift stage. The silence persisted, and the scene took on a farcical element as they each awaited the next line. My skin itched with awkward embarrassment—for myself, for Miss Rose, for Cate and Mr. Fabre.
The actress removed her cloak, oblivious to my presence as she tossed it on a nearby table. “Well, this is a fine welcome,” she said, sounding rather put out. “If I’d known you’d be so disinterested, I would have saved myself the trouble. As I’m already here, you could at least send for a tea tray. I’m chilled through for my efforts and need to warm up before I return to the theater.”
Still as a statue, I waited for Cate’s reply. Several long seconds passed before she gave a resigned sigh and gestured toward me.
“Justine, I don’t believe you’ve been formally introduced to my houseguest, Miss Selah Kilbrid.”
I wanted no part of the farce, but propriety demanded otherwise. So I stood and forced a pained smile. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Rose.”
The actress turned her eyes upon me. “Dear me!” she laughed, clasping her hands together. “Why didn’t you tell me we were having a family reunion? Shall I fetch Sophie? You know how she hates to miss the fun.”
Tom let out an exasperated breath. “You’re not making this any easier, Justine. The poor girl has just learned we’re married. Let’s not shake the tree any harder than need be.”
Justine smirked at me. “Still a babe in the woods, eh? At least they’ve let you out of the pudding cap.”
The insult would have stung if not for the sheer absurdity of the conversation. “You must be practicing for a new role, Miss Rose. Pray tell, in which play does a young woman escape from the mad house.”
The smirk tighten
ed to hard lines around her mouth. She spoke to Cate, without taking her eyes from me. “You must let me tell her, Mother. It will make my day to see the shock on her sweet little face.”
“That will suffice, Justine,” Cate said, her voice laced with warning. “It’s not your place to decide what Selah knows.”
“How long do you intend to keep her on the leading strings? I say if the girl is old enough to seduce Lord Fitzalan, she’s old enough to know the truth.”
“Hold your tongue,” Tom snapped. “There’s no need for rudeness.”
“Well, how else do you think she stole him from me?” Justine waved a hand in my direction. “Just look at her. No doubt she bedded him quicker than a halfpenny whore.”
Heat stung my cheeks. Whore, indeed! And a halfpenny one at that. “Believe what you will, Miss Rose, if it makes you feel better.”
Justine pursed her mouth as though tasting something unpleasant. “She’s a saucy thing, isn’t she, Mother. I’ve a mind to—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I said. “Will you please stop calling her that? Cate Dinley is not your mother.”
For a moment, tense silence filled the room. Then Justine broke into a fit of laughter. “This is too much,” she said, looking at Cate. “Go ahead. Tell her I’m not your daughter.” Her gaze flicked to Tom. “You, too, father. Disown me if you can. And while you’re at it why don’t you explain how her grandmother Elizabeth was not really my sister.”
My eyes flew to Cate and Tom, who were silently watching Justine.
“So I thought,” Justine said. Then glancing at me, she pressed a finger against a cheek as though in serious contemplation. “Let’s see, Selah. I believe that would make you my great niece. Though, if you ever call me auntie in public, I shall have you laughed out of London.”
I gaped at her, shocked beyond reason. Did this trollop really think me such a fool? Or that Cate and Tom would willingly participate in her ridiculous schemes? “She’s insane,” I said, my voice beginning to shake. “What are you waiting for? Make her stop.”
They didn’t move, nor offer a word of denial. Tom met my eyes for a mere second before dropping his head to the floor. Cate’s face had turned ashen, and her mouth compressed to a thin angry line.
Panic fluttered in my chest. “Do something! Call a servant and have her thrown out.”
“Spare me the dramatics,” Justine said, rolling her eyes. “I thought you would be pleased to know that you still had some family left in the mortal world.”
Her words bit deeply into my already besieged spirits. Justine Rose cannot be goddess born...She cannot be family.
“It’s not true,” I cried. “You’re lying!”
Justine went to the bed and flopped down as though she owned the place. “You almost discovered the truth a week ago at All Hallows. I barely escaped the crypt in time and had to redress in the nave.” She snickered. “Good thing the current rector isn’t prone to late night wanderings, or he would have gotten an eyeful.”
“No more, Justine,” Cate said wearily. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.”
Confusion tugged at me, pulled my head from left to right, then back again. Justine smiled like a clever cat, while Cate and Tom watched me with cautious expressions and worry filled eyes.
It can’t be true. I won’t let it be true.
My chest constricted, tighter than any stays had ever held me. The sound of panting gasps seemed to fill the room as shadows crept from all sides and surrounded my vision. Reaching behind me, I searched frantically for the armchair before I ended up face first on the carpet. Something hit my calves, and I fell in a heap onto the cushion.
A hand clasped my arm. “Breathe, Selah,” Cate said, with soft-spoken authority. “You need air.”
Warmth infused my skin. In an instant, I felt the tightness release, replaced by a sense of calm and detached understanding. Another minute found me fully restored as though nothing had happened.
Yet everything had happened.
Cate and Tom are my great grandparents. The notion took on a shape of its own and nestled deep into the fabric of my thoughts. Another idea soon followed, clear as the first. Justine Rose is my aunt.
I turned to Cate. “What did you do to me?”
“Don’t be afraid,” she said, rubbing my arm. “In a manner of speaking, I calmed your emotions and helped you to see the truth. If not for Justine’s interference, I never would have revealed so much at once.”
She made it sound reasonable. And yet...”You manipulated me.”
“No more than a strong tonic. Just quicker and without the sharp taste.”
My mouth dropped open in a show of resentment. “You put thoughts in my head!”
“Only the truth, Selah, so you could understand more readily. Heaven knows the acrobatics I already go through to keep the servants from finding out. The last thing I needed was for you to become hysterical and do something rash.”
I shook my head. “You can’t do that. Brigid’s power doesn’t work that way.”
Justine snorted. “Of course it does, you simpleton. I’ve been doing the same thing for Nora all week. How else do you think she could learn all the lines so quickly?”
It took a moment for her words to sink in. When they did, I looked at her anew, at the simple gray frock and severe bun pinned tightly to her head. Understanding rippled through me. “You...” I stammered. “You’re Margaret Fox!”
Justine cocked a brow. “What of it?”
“You’ve some nerve to involve Nora in such a scheme.”
“Involve her!” Justine repeated. “She begged for a chance to perform on stage. And it was her idea for me to pose as George Fox’s great niece.” She flipped a handful of the plain gray skirt. “I have a reputation for style to uphold, so believe me, it has been no small sacrifice to be seen dressed like a dowdy spinster. I consented because Nora thought it the only way for her to go out unattended.” She gave me a knowing look. “And who am I to ruin her dreams for the sake of vanity...or jealousy.”
The blatant accusation set me back. “I didn’t...I never...” The remaining words withered under Justine’s judgmental stare.
I shifted my gaze away, rather annoyed by her assumption. Nora was my best friend, by no means would I ever try to hold her back. Perhaps I could have been more supportive the morning she first spoke of being an actress. And not criticized The Beggar’s Opera so openly when she came home after spending the entire day with the fictional Meg Fox. But to be accused of acting out of jealousy? How could Justine make such an absurd claim when she knew that my antagonism lay at her feet and not at Nora’s?
A breath caught in my throat. Good Heavens! Had I actually hurt Nora out of spite for Justine? I wouldn’t have believed it if not for the guilty memories that jabbed at my conscience.
“What part is she playing?” I asked, in a much smaller voice.
Justine waited a moment before answering. “Since the theater manager decided to extend The Beggar’s Opera another week, Nora is my new understudy for Polly Peachum. You didn’t hear it from me though, as I’ve been sworn to secrecy. For some reason, Nora’s gotten it into her pretty head that her best friend would despise her for playing a trollop.” Justine narrowed her eyes. “Can you imagine where she got such a notion?”
My heart felt suddenly heavy. Thinking back on all I had said, it was little wonder Nora hadn’t brought me into her confidence.
Tom set a hand on each hip, widening his already expansive stance into a wall of muscle and bone. “As your understudy, there’s no guarantee that she’ll have a chance to play the part.”
“Oh, she’ll play it all right, tomorrow night when I am struck with a terrible head cold.” A smile curled at the corners of Justine’s mouth. “Be warned, Selah. I shall have you removed from the theater if you t
ry to interfere in any way whatsoever.”
Weariness spread through me, and I pressed into the chair. Blast the woman’s threats! And above all, blast my stupid tongue! For the past week, I had faulted Nora for abandoning me, without any thought of what I may have done to her.
Cate remained at my side, a hand resting on my shoulder. “Justine, what news do you have of the young wretch?”
Justine shifted her weight on the mattress and her expression turned serious. “I’m not positive it’s even her, but I’ve a bad feeling about it. A young girl has taken to coming around the theater since Nora started rehearsals.” A slight crease appeared between her delicate brows. “Nora is more liberal than most with the purse strings, so this girl may just be another beggar in search of a hot meal. Until this afternoon I’ve not worried overmuch as their interaction had been limited to a few words and a penny or two each day.”
A jolt of alarm ran up my spine. “What do you mean? Where is Nora?”
For the first time since entering the room, Justine looked unsure. “Nora invited the girl to sup at a pub today when the dance master called for an intermission. I asked her not to go, but she insisted upon it. I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here.”
“You abandoned her?” I asked. “How could you be such a fool?”
Justine glared at me. “I’m not even sure if this is the same girl.”
“Of course it is,” I scoffed. “And she’s approached Nora twice already before she ever started rehearsing with you. I have to find her. Do you know which pub they went to?” I tried to stand, but Cate held me in place.
“Tiarnach,” she said, addressing the blacksmith by his real name. “Will you go with Justine to look for Nora?”
He nodded and started at once toward the wall panel, while Justine hurried into her cape.
“Do you have the knife?” Cate asked him.
My mouth fell open and I leveled a stare on the back of Tom’s head. He glanced over his shoulder, “Aye, I have it, and know just what to do if we find her.”
