Harkworth Hall
Page 12
Mary Read. “No,” I said, biting my lip at the tremor in my voice. “No obstacle.”
He looked at me, then took a step closer, so close his hat blotted out the sunlight. “I want to be absolutely clear, Miss Daniels. My only interest is in the service you can do me, and by extension, His Majesty,” he said in a low voice. “However, if I can use you in a way that makes you happy? So much the better.”
I stopped then, for I could not see the path before us. Smith pressed a handkerchief into my hand and I dabbed my eyes. I took my time and he waited patiently, as if he understood that I was trying to reason through all he had proposed.
Finally, I said, in a calmer voice, “My father is not well.”
“Indeed.” He laid both hands atop his cane, leaning forward.
“If I am caring for him, how can I—”
“Make no mistake, I want no more Harkworth Halls, Miss Daniels. It took a great deal on my part to smooth that mess over, and there are still a few drunks in your village muttering about things they saw. We were lucky not to have a public panic on our hands.” His expression was grim. “I want something to arrest Thomas Masterson on and nothing more. Your job will be to make Miss Chase plausible. Her job will be to find proof of something criminal and leave at once. Is that clear?”
“Quite,” I replied, matching his firm tone. “I would want my own salary, of course.”
He blinked at me from behind the pince-nez, but said nothing.
“And I would want access to a physician as well as a surgeon at all times. This journey is to benefit my father’s health, not injure him further.”
Again he blinked.
“And,” I continued, warming to my newfound role, “I will reserve the right to end our activities at any time. If I believe the danger is too great to myself, my father, or Jo, I will return us all here at once, whether or not you have your information, and we will suffer absolutely no repercussions from you or any other agency. Is that clear?”
He blinked once more, then sighed heavily. “Quite,” he snapped, crooking his elbow at me. “Shall we?”
But I held up my finger. “I have one further request.”
“Is it a request or a demand?” His voice was nearly a growl.
“Let us say a pertinent request?” I was smiling now. “I was a liability at Harkworth Hall. I do not wish to be so again. I want someone to teach me how to fight. How to throw a punch, handle a knife, and improve my aim. I need to know these things.”
“Your job,” Smith began, bristling, “is to simply look the part—”
“And I pray to God I will never need these skills,” I interrupted smoothly. “But needs must where the devil drives.”
He glared at me a moment longer, then jabbed his elbow at me. I took it with a benign smile. Indeed, the world seemed an even warmer, brighter place than before. The sky seemed to have deepened its hue, the sun dazzling, the bare trees seemingly upraised in celebration, every blade of withering grass as beautifully colored as if painted by a master.
I was alive.
“As to the latter,” Smith said after a moment. “Miss Chase is well-versed in your requirements. She can easily undertake your tutelage.”
We were rounding the corner of the house. I smiled almost helplessly at the sight of Jo pacing on the front step, wrenching irritably at her skirts. “Mister Smith,” I said warmly, “I must insist that it be anyone but Jo. What kind of marriage would we have, if we began with fisticuffs and knife fights?”
He laughed then, a deep, booming laugh that seemed at odds with his small stature. “A most unusual one, but I would wager better than many.”
I gave him a sideways look, but he merely stopped and held out a hand. “I will send a contract in a few days along with your instructions,” he said. “I would say it has been a pleasure, but I think you got the better end of this bargain.”
We shook hands and without further ado, he turned on his heel and climbed into the carriage, slapping its roof even before he had shut the door. I turned to see Jo lurching down from the porch, her expression one of hope and anxiety. Before I knew what I was doing, I was running towards her, running with full heart and lungs and the whole of my body alight, as I had not done since I was a little girl.
Miss Chase and Miss Daniels will return in
Leviathan
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Some believe writing is a solitary activity, but they are utterly, utterly wrong. This book would not have been possible without the help of many. Laurel Amberdine, Sian Jones, and Rhonda Parrish gave me thoughtful, and at times painfully honest, feedback. Kat Howard patiently and repeatedly nudged me back on course as my first draft tripled in size and complexity. Anna Genoese gave me a thorough review and some last-minute suggestions, and Charlotte Ashley gently relieved me of as many grammatical crutches as I could bear to part with. The cover and interior are the work of Najla and Nada Qamber respectively, and I will say it again for the seats in the back: mea culpa, Najla, you were absolutely right.
I am fortunate to have a supportive and caring family who have cheered me on throughout my writing efforts, and a spouse and two cats who endured many late dinners with a minimum of dark looks and impatient pacing. Never underestimate hungry loved ones as a motivation for finishing your day’s work.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
L.S. Johnson was born in New York and now lives in Northern California, where she feeds her cats by writing book indexes. Her stories have appeared in such venues as Strange Horizons, Interzone, Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History, and Year’s Best Weird Fiction, and she has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and longlisted for the Tiptree Award. Her first collection, Vacui Magia: Stories, won the 2nd Annual North Street Book Prize. To learn about new stories, upcoming appearances, or to be on the list for advance review copies, sign up for her newsletter at www.traversingz.com.
Table of Contents
Title
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Acknowledgments
About the Author