by Molly Tanzer
“I fear I’ve never had the pleasure.”
“Do you have a brother?”
George shook his head. “An only child, to my parents’ dismay.”
“Well, you must just have one of those faces,” she said, shrugging. “Shall we go in, then?”
Evadne’s face went red. Dorina—inviting a stranger into her uncle’s house! Thankfully, George must have noticed the awkwardness.
“I’m afraid I was just going,” he said. “I hope to see you back at the academy, Gray, when you’re feeling better.”
“Oh, you’re Evadne’s fencing teacher! That’s why I knew your name,” said Dorina, mortifying Evadne—how dare her sister say she’d spoken of this man at home . . . even if she had. “Lovely to meet you. Evadne, you’re not well?” Dorina, of course, looked the very picture of health. Beside her, Evadne knew she must look even worse than usual.
“We’ll discuss it later,” Evadne said through her teeth. “Good day, Mr. Cantrell. I will return when I am able.”
“Good day, ladies,” he said, tipping his hat specifically at Evadne, and then at the two of them.
“You must really be feeling badly if you didn’t invite him in,” opined Dorina as she bustled inside. “I can’t see why—he was clearly dying to speak to you more, only you were so cold! Are you not yet over Freddie? You ought to try. He seems awfully nice, and if you won’t be kind to Jonas you might as well—”
“Dorina, you didn’t come home last night.”
“Yes, but Henry said she’d sent word.”
It must have been delivered straight to Basil, and she had not heard anything about it. Infuriating man! But really, it wasn’t Dorina’s whereabouts that Evadne cared about so much. The real issue was . . .
“Dorina, we need to talk.”
“Oh?” Dorina seemed distracted, happy and thoughtless as usual. “About what?”
“About . . .” The words wouldn’t come to her mouth. “About the company you keep,” she managed. “Shall we repair to somewhere not the foyer and . . .”
“The company I keep?” Dorina eyed her. “Oh dear, are you cross I stayed over with Henry? It was only that it became so late, and—”
“Dorina, be serious! I am being serious,” snapped Evadne. “I’m not talking about anything so frivolous as one of your affairs—”
“Affairs!”
Evadne took a deep breath. “Please, will you come upstairs? Can we talk? In one of our rooms?”
Dorina already looked rebellious. This was not going to be easy.
“If we must,” she said, icy where she had lately been so warm.
Evadne trailed behind her sister up the stairs, as if she were the one in trouble and Dorina about to deliver some necessary lecture. It was infuriating, but then again, she was dealing with Dorina.
“Would you like me sitting in a chair, or on a bed? Would you prefer to be in your room, or mine?”
“Dorina . . .”
“What?” Dorina just looked at her. It occurred to Evadne that her sister was carrying a bag. “Your room,” said Evadne. “You can unpack while we talk.”
“How kind of you.”
Evadne almost gave up right then and there. Dorina was being impossible, and didn’t seem especially receptive to any advice or confidence. Perhaps she should try again later, see where Dorina was that evening, or tomorrow.
No. She had to do this. She had to tell Dorina her suspicions. A vision of the dead girl again welled up in Evadne’s mind, like tears, like blood in a wound. She could not put this off. Who knew what might happen if she bided her time, waiting for the perfect moment?
Evadne hadn’t been inside Dorina’s room for some time. Their estrangement had been sudden and mutual. Not that they had ever spent much time running in and out of one another’s rooms, like sisters they knew socially tended to do.
“Well?” said Dorina, throwing her bag on the bed. “What do you have to say about the company I keep?”
As much time as Evadne had spent thinking about informing Dorina of her suspicions, she’d actually not quite gotten around to how to begin the conversation, where to go with it, where to end. She stared at Dorina, standing stupidly in the middle of the floor.
“Are you going to actually say anything, or did you just need me to know you don’t approve of Henry? Or my, as you call them, affairs? I already knew that.”
“Dorina, this is very serious.” Evadne paused. “So, the two of you . . . you’re . . .”
Dorina whirled, a little paper bag of candy in her hand. She opened it and the strong smell of ginger filled the room; she popped one in her mouth, but put the rest in a drawer in her desk without offering Evadne one.
“So what if we are?” she asked after swallowing.
“I’m not angry,” said Evadne, even if in all honesty the idea of such a thing made her heart beat a bit faster. She was supposed to be standing guard over Dorina here in London, not sitting idly by while her sister got into complicated and confusing situations just like this one. Oh, if only she’d written her mother for advice!
“Oh, thank goodness,” said Dorina loftily.
Evadne took a deep breath. “I’m not angry, I’m just . . .” And then she stopped.
It occurred to her that it might actually be a terrible idea to talk to Dorina about all of this. Her sister would inevitably repeat whatever Evadne said to her friend—her lover—and if Lady Henry had known about her brother’s diabolical experiments, or even participated in them . . . that might put both sisters in danger. If, God forbid, Lady Henry was planning to do something to Dorina as disgusting and dangerous as that nameless demon-worshiper had done to that poor girl on the rooftop, Evadne’s warnings might force her hand, make her act all the sooner.
Evadne made her decision in that moment—she would pretend to be upset about Dorina’s relationship, and instead she’d tell George of her concerns. Talking to Dorina would necessitate Evadne confessing her involvement with an organization that by its very nature must be kept secret. Why, after all, would she know so much about the matter? What could she point to but a sword she should never have had in her possession in the first place, much less touched? She ought not to call attention to it at all, for as neither Lady Henry nor Jonas had requested its return, it would be better to keep it secreted away until she could tell George about it and get him involved. His expertise would be invaluable when it came to handling such a delicate situation.
“Just what,” said Dorina, as Evadne hesitated.
“Just . . . our mother . . . she sent me here, you know, to look after you . . . and I feel like I’ve failed. I’ve let you run wild, and—”
“Run wild! To museums?” Dorina’s hand flew to her throat in mock alarm. “The scandal!”
“It’s not just to museums, you know. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Lady Henry, and now you seem to have grown closer. I doubt Mother would—”
“Are you threatening to tell Mother about all this?”
“I feel as if I should.”
“Evadne!”
“What? It’s not as if being called home would impact your career—you haven’t even been working on your article.”
Dorina, flushed of face, slammed some sort of hair ornament into her jewel box. “You’re so . . . spiteful! I can’t believe you hate Harry so much that you’d try to separate us. But you do love to tattle.”
“I don’t hate her,” said Evadne, surprised. “And I don’t love to tattle!”
“Oh, well, I can’t imagine why I’d come to such conclusions!” Dorina sneered at her.
“Just because I don’t want to see Lady Henry every day . . .” Evadne sank onto Dorina’s bed, the closest available surface. “I didn’t mean to give the impression I hated anyone.” Though of course, she knew she had—even the polite Jonas had remarked on it.
“No?” Dorina was actually angry—her fists were balled, she was standing ramrod straight, eyes blazing. “Maybe you just don’t realize you hate everyone, me inclu
ded!”
“Dorina! I love you . . .” As she said it, she realized it, really realized it. She had always loved her sister, even if things were difficult between them. The thought that she might be involved with something that could get her killed—to see her sister lamented, and then forgotten—it was unbearable. “No matter what, I love you.”
This softened Dorina’s hardness a little, but not much. “So, you love me so much that you’re going to try to separate me from someone with whom I’ve really connected?”
Evadne had so much she wanted to say, but she’d done what she needed to do. She’d antagonized Dorina to avoid bringing up her suspicion that Lady Henry was potentially involved in, for lack of a better way to put it, occult matters.
“I just don’t know if you really understand what you’re getting yourself into,” said Evadne, being completely honest. “She may not be the person you think she is. There may be things you don’t know about her . . . things you never suspected. She’s already scandalously exposed you in several public places, before you are even officially out . . . She has no respect for society, and therefore no respect for your future. She’s also far older than you, Dorina. Even if you don’t care about that now, you may one day.” Dorina looked mutinous. “You haven’t known her for long, that’s all, and I’d hate to see you risk your entire future for someone you barely know, and who doesn’t seem to care about you. At least not in respectable ways.”
“I may not have known her long, but I know her perfectly,” said Dorina coldly. “She is open and honest with me. She understands me better than anyone ever has. And the society she keeps would never judge me for going into public places or whatever you’re fretting over. They’re above such things.”
“The society she keeps? You mean that group you go to?” Evadne realized she’d never once asked what they got up to. “What sort of group is it?”
“Oh, it’s terribly immoral,” said Dorina. “We have a nice meal together, and then we do something scandalous, like discuss aesthetics, or the nature of beauty, or the way we interpret the world through art. So risqué!”
“It doesn’t sound so risqué . . .”
“Oh, but it is,” said Dorina. “Everyone’s terribly louche. Why, one of the members is a children’s book illustrator. With that sort of company, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t secretly a cabal of demon-worshipers!”
Evadne froze. “What on earth do you mean by that?” she said, deadly serious.
Dorina looked alarmed. “Nothing,” she said, but so quickly Evadne couldn’t help but wonder. Her sister’s face was a mask, composed, calculated to deceive—not at all her usual open, vivacious self.
The memory of a scent sickened her—the flowers the diabolist had heaped around the girl before he did what he had done . . .
Could Dorina already be corrupted? Was Evadne too late? Or was she still shaken by her adventure and seeing demons everywhere? They’d never needed to worry about such things back in Swadlincote—hadn’t ever suspected there really were such things—but here in London, corruption and evil seemed to lurk everywhere . . .
It was too big a tangle for her to unravel on her own; she was new at this, and she needed help. Thankfully, she knew someone she could turn to, and there was no time like the present to ask about it. She would not sit idly by and wait for Dorina to be hurt. Her resolution to let her sister swim out into the middle of the ocean, come what may, was swept away like a wave erasing writing in the sand. She would do what she had to do.
Evadne stood and shook out her skirts. “I’m sorry I said anything,” she said. “I was just concerned.”
“Well, don’t be.”
Evadne nodded, and took her leave of her sister—but she did not go to her room for more time than it took to collect cab fare and her shawl. Tired as she was, she was determined to make her way to George as soon as she could.
George was finishing up his last lesson of the day when Evadne arrived at the school. She elected to wait, but not to practice while she did. Mr. Perkins seemed surprised when she turned him down for an impromptu match, but she begged off, explaining she was without her gear. He didn’t seem to believe her excuses, however, so she escaped into the kitchen just to get away from his worried frowns and sidelong glances.
She was just sipping a cup of tea when George came in, sweaty and still looking rather tired. She poured him a cup, too, and he seemed to revive over it, after dropping in one of his pastilles.
“You said you wanted to speak to me?” he said.
Evadne nodded. “About something that happened the other night.”
He looked angry, to her surprise—a wrathful saint, instead of the gentler version to which she had become accustomed. “We can’t talk about that now, Gray,” he snapped. “Perkins might—”
“It has to do with my sister, George,” she said, desperate. “I don’t know where else to go, who else to talk to.” Surely he would not put her off. She could not bear this alone, not any longer. She had to speak of it or she would burst.
“Your sister?” He was all attention now. “She seemed like a lovely girl, from the brief moments we spoke. What could she possibly have to do with—”
“Dorina has become close with Lady Henrietta Wotton. The lady is an unusual person, to begin with . . .”
“Oh yes,” said George knowingly.
“She knows I fence,” said Evadne, feeling more enthusiastic now that she’d found a toehold. “And when she found out, she offered me Lord Oliver’s swords.”
“Is that where you obtained that rapier?”
“Yes. And also another sword . . .” She took a sip of tea, as her throat felt dry. “A Chinese sword.”
“Saber or double-edged?”
“Double-edged, straight. It was so beautiful. And when I took it down off the wall, it felt so good in my hand. It felt right, and I knew just what to do with it. But afterward, I felt . . . unclean. Greasy and odd. I never wanted to pick it up again. I thought little of it at the time, and while the experience was quite unusual I had no way of explaining what I had felt. I brushed it off as nothing. But now, after what you said about that dagger, the one I . . .”
George leaned closer. “What do you mean?”
“The sword didn’t give me visions of anything terrible,” she said carefully, trying not to think of what she’d seen on that rooftop. “But when you said what you did about diabolical objects suggesting a use . . . well, it just reminded me, and I began to fear that my sister . . .”
“What does your sister have to do with the sword?”
“Maybe nothing! I don’t know. Maybe Lady Henry has no idea that her brother was a diabolist—or at least, that he had a tainted sword. But at the same time . . .”
“What?”
Evadne took a deep breath. “I worry Lady Henry is herself a diabolist. I shook hands with her; we’ve come into contact a few times, and she also makes me feel . . . greasy. Unsettled. Do people—people like me, I mean—are we able to sense demonic taint in . . . other humans?”
George looked startled by the question. “I don’t really know,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone who was sensitive enough to do so, but I don’t want to doubt your experience.” He leaned in closely; her breath seemed to catch in her chest. “Have you felt this sort of sensation after touching anyone else?”
Evadne broke his gaze to look down at where her hands were folded in her lap, and nodded. “Lady Henry’s companion, Jonas Fuller.”
George said nothing, and she looked up. He was staring at her intensely; she was his entire focus. She’d never been looked at like that, not in all her life.
She liked it. She knew it was neither the time nor the place for such things, but she couldn’t help but feel secretly thrilled by his glorious attention.
“What do you want me to do with this information, Evadne?” he asked, breaking the tension.
“I don’t know,” she said shyly, returning her eyes to her teacup and the cooling tea within
. In spite of the summer’s heat, she shivered. “I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid. That girl we couldn’t save, what if there really is something to worry about? What if Dorina . . .” She angrily dashed tears from her eyes.
“I see,” he said gravely. “Well, I don’t blame you for your concern. In my experience, it’s not often that diabolic items are found in the houses of those who have nothing to do with demons. And your report of the experience of touching her . . .”
Evadne nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of,” she said. “And . . .”
“Yes?”
“Dorina, she said something odd. You see, there’s a gathering that Lady Henry hosts every so often, and when I asked Dorina about it, she got very defensive. She said it was a group committed to art appreciation, which didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but then she joked about them being demon-worshipers—”
“She joked about it?”
Evadne sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I just have this on my mind given . . . everything . . . but it seemed ghastly.”
“Understandable. It’s not a laughing matter. Or at least, it ought not to be.” He looked thoughtful. “You’re right. We must at least investigate this. Will you help me?”
“I’d do anything to help my sister.” It was the only thing she was certain of.
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to do the hardest thing for people like us.”
“What is it?” she said eagerly.
“I’m going to ask you to wait—to bide your time. Carry on as if nothing is wrong and nothing has changed. Be as natural as you can around your sister.”
“But—”
“Then, the very next time you get wind of one of these meetings, I want you to come to me. Immediately.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know yet,” admitted George. “But have faith, Gray—I will know when the time comes. I promise you that. I have a lot of experience, and there’s quite a lot at stake.”
“Dorina’s safety is my chief concern,” said Evadne. “I will do whatever it takes to help her.”
“I know how important she is to you. I’m sorry, I just need you to bear with me for a brief time while I come up with the best way of dealing with this information.”
