Masque (The Two Monarchies Sequence)

by W. R. Gingell

  “Was your surveillance of the meeting productive, Lieutenant?”

  His blue eyes regarded me thoughtfully. “You like to skim the boundaries, don’t you, lady? I don’t think Lord Pecus would like me to say. He was very particular about you not being allowed to pass.”

  “Very well,” I said equitably; “We won’t quarrel. Tell me about Lord Pecus instead!”

  He looked relieved, but wary. “What would you like to know, my lady?”

  “Oh, nothing very sensitive or top secret,” I assured him, doing my best to appear appropriately innocuous. “Have you known Lord Pecus for very long?”

  “All my life. I was one of the first to sign up under him when the Watch was granted Royal sanction by the King.”

  I nodded without surprise, because I had heard that the Watch House in Glause was not long officially established. It had previously been a privately run corporation formed of a medley of spies and investigators who looked into certain affairs for a fee, and the general task of policing of the realm had previously been assigned to the military.

  “Is his manor as gothic as they say?” I enquired, allowing a slight, ghoulish interest to creep into my voice. I did not think it constructive to tell the Lieutenant that I had visited Lord Pecus’ domain once before: people are always so much more willing to expound when they believe they are doing so to ignorance. Besides, the visit had been less than lengthy, and could be said, without stretching the truth, not to count. To add to all other arguments, I had not had a moment then to indulge my inquisitive nature, and no one could reasonably expect me to count it as an actual visit without doing so.

  “I’ve been told that all the servants wear masks. So intriguing!”

  The Lieutenant looked amused, but willing to pander to my macabre interest.

  “The servants have worn masks at Pecus Manor for centuries, ever since the first Lord Pecus was cursed and began wearing one to hide his face. He chose to make an affectation of it by masking the entire house, and it’s become part of the tradition of Pecus Manor. I think the servants would be disappointed if it weren’t done: it gives them a certain distinction that not even the king’s servants can pretend to.”

  Another triumph for Vadim! I thought amusedly. The girl was a treasure. I made a mental note to buy her a pretty frippery when I went out to choose stockings for Lord Pecus’ ball.

  “It must give the Manor somewhat of an eerie air,” I pondered, with interest. If the masks were anything like Lord Pecus’, it would give one the surreal feeling of being surrounded by people who were not quite alive. “Not to mention the danger of thievery! No one would know if one didn’t belong. Why, one could be surrounded by vagabonds and murderers and never have the slightest suspicion!”

  His eyes danced appreciatively. “Lord Pecus thought of that eventuality, my lady: I’m surprised, however, that you did. I’m inclined to think that Lord Pecus was right when he told me your character borders very narrowly on the criminal!”

  “I should think you would, by now,” I said admonishingly. “Let it be a lesson to you never to trust in appearances. I may look like a meek old maid, but I am devious and very possibly nefarious into the bargain!”

  “My lady, you do not look at all like a meek old maid!” he said, laughing out loud. His laugh didn’t have the rich, magnificent resonance of Lord Pecus’ laugh, but it was a nice one in its own right. “You’re more akin to a siren, beautiful and chancy.”

  “You see how well I’ve deceived you!” I said, nodding portentously. “And how adroitly I fish for compliments!”

  The Lieutenant grinned. “I hold to my remarks, lady! What else would you like to know about Lord Pecus?”

  “Has he always worn that porcelain mask?” I asked thoughtfully, running a finger along the edge of my teacup. Despite being curiously lacking in a few key areas, the Book of Interesting Extracts had surprised me a great deal in what it had had to proffer about the Pecus Curse, and I had reached a few conclusions of my own with regards to the withheld information.

  Acting on one such conclusion, I said: “It’s almost unnoticeable- a family heirloom, I suppose?”

  “Lord Pecus designed it five years after the Watch was royally sanctioned,” said Lieutenant Holt, raising another host of interesting possibilities in my mind. “He says it was the most difficult thing he’s ever done. His father, the twelfth Lord Pecus, was a genius with magic: he designed the first mask Alexander ever wore. Until he was twenty-four I didn’t even know it was a mask.”

  “What happened when Lord Pecus was twenty-four?” I inquired, tucking away the interesting fact that Lieutenant Holt was on intimate enough terms with Lord Pecus to slip into a first name basis.

  “He and I were out hunting on his birthday. Lord Pecus was ahead of me and fell through the floor of some old ruins: when I found him the mask had split.” He was silent for a moment, and then added reflectively: “I almost killed him, Lady Farrah. I thought he was a demon.”

  That would explain Lord Pecus’ attitude when I drew back at the Ambassadorial Ball, I thought compassionately.

  “It took him seven years to design and make the new mask, and until then he kept to Pecus Manor, directing the Watch House from behind closed doors. It’s only in the last year that he’s begun circulating in society a little again.”

  “I assume, then, that Lord Pecus has wards of a magical nature in place about Pecus Manor?”

  “He does,” said Lieutenant Holt cautiously. I thought, with some amusement, that he actually seemed to think I might attempt a break-in. “The wards are quite advanced and difficult to slip past.”

  “Oh, I’ve no talent for magic,” I assured him cheerfully. “If it can’t be undone with a hairpin and a thumbtack, I’m powerless against it.”

  He laughed again. “You are a surprising woman, lady. How often can you meddle with magic using a hairpin and a thumbtack?”

  “Oh, it’s only useful when it comes to magical locks and Keep-Away spells. I’ve always suspected that my skill has something to do with my inquisitive personality.”

  “Lord Pecus did say something of the sort,” said the Lieutenant, with a twinkle to his eye.

  “Are you sure the term he used wasn’t ‘meddlesome old maid’?”

  “I believe he said ‘taking, but as nosy as a terrier’.”

  “Well!” I said indignantly. “Taking! He could at least have stipulated beautiful!”

  I comforted myself with another slice of cake and gazed balefully at Lieutenant Holt over my teacup.

  “Why are you laughing, sirrah?”

  “I find it amusing that you don’t object to being called nosy,” explained the Lieutenant, grinning. He put down his teacup and regarded me thoughtfully. “You’re not asking the questions I expected you to ask, Lady Farrah.”

  “Which questions did you expect me to ask?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, about the Earl of Horn, about the meeting, anything about Charles Black.”

  I threw him an amused glance. “Would you have answered them?”

  “Of course not. I was warned about your feminine wiles.”

  “Then what would be the use in my asking them? I asked you a testing question about the meeting, and you drew back. Very well. There was no use in pressing the issue.”

  I couldn’t help feeling a little pleased with myself. It would have been useful to know about the Charles Black meeting, of course, but my chief interest was in finding out what I could of Lord Pecus. A reputation for inquisitiveness was sometimes a useful thing: if a person thinks they are being pumped with regards to one thing, it is the easiest thing in the world to prompt them to talk about anything else.

  So I gave Lieutenant Holt my sweetest smile, and said: “You’re just too clever for me, Lieutenant.”

  “And yet, lady,” said the Lieutenant frankly: “I worry!”

  *

  I was just showing the Lieutenant out when Lord Pecus arrived. He looked exasperated but unsurprised, and the Lieuten
ant looked distinctly sheepish again as he bowed over my hand.

  “I hope I shall see you again!” I told him mischievously, but not entirely mendaciously. He was a lovely boy.

  He blushed, bowed again, and said: “I certainly hope so, lady!”

  I waved him off airily and turned to Lord Pecus, who had given his hat to the footman and was regarding me narrowly.

  “Lady Farrah, I suppose it would be too much to ask of you not to corrupt the Watch?”

  “Nonsense!” I said loftily. “Lieutenant Holt is a charming boy, and I object to the idea that I am in any way a corrupting influence on him. Have you come to see Melchior?”

  Lord Pecus opened his mouth, evidently thought better of what he was going to say, and nodded. “Yes.”

  He hesitated, then said roughly: “Lady Farrah, the Watch is capable of conducting an investigation competently.”

  “I have no doubt you are, my lord!” I said soothingly. Not entirely to my surprise, Lord Pecus did not look soothed.

  “We are not playing games, my lady! My protection only-”

  “Pecus!” Melchior was leaning over the balcony, his eyes alight with mischief. I wondered suspiciously what he had been up to- or what he was about to get up to. “I thought I heard your voice!”

  I gave Lord Pecus a roguish smile and took myself off while I could. “Goodbye, Lord Pecus; so nice to have seen you!”

  I was quite pleased with myself as I entered the sewing room. I now had a good working knowledge of Lord Pecus to be going on with: Lieutenant Holt had been extremely helpful. He had confirmed a suspicion that the Book of Interesting Excerpts had planted in my head, and I found myself entirely satisfied with the progress of my different investigations. It occurred to me that a letter to Annabel was long overdue, but I was in the mood for sewing, and before I knew what I was about, I found myself meditatively shaking out my half-completed gold dress. There was no time to finish it of course: Lord Pecus’ party was tomorrow night. But I couldn’t help setting the second sleeve, or unpinning a flare that was not quite right, and repinning it. By the time lunch was announced with the resounding boom of Delysia’s ancient Lacunan gong, I had finished the last of the pinning.

  I sat deep in thought, considering the dress, then rang the bell in sudden decision. When the footman had been dispatched to fetch Vadim, I resigned myself to going without lunch, and swept the dress off the dummy. It swirled beautifully with flares of gold and red, and I couldn’t help smiling: it was exactly as I had imagined it.

  Vadim entered the room to find me holding the dress up to myself in the long mirrors, and for a moment I saw pure longing in her eyes as she looked at it.

  I shook my head. “No, Vadim. Blue, and possibly pink, but never gold for you.”

  “Oh, it’s too fine for me,” she said. Vadim evidently had no pretensions to the higher classes. “But it is beautiful, lady!”

  “It should be!” I told her frankly: “I spent a week just designing it. Can you sew competently, child? I’m a little short of time.”

  “Mm’no,” she said slowly, her eyes not leaving the gown. “I can do better than that, though.”

  “You perplex me, Vadim. What is better than sewing?”

  Vadim grinned, and suddenly looked very like Keenan. “I’ll show you.”

  She flicked the skirt inside out with a professional flourish, and pinched one of the seams together half an inch from the selvage, avoiding the pins. I watched as she ran her fingers the length of the pinned pieces, and saw the fabric weave itself together after her, leaving no seam.

  “Vadim, I don’t know what I ever did without you!”

  Vadim was removing the pins in a businesslike manner, but I fancied that her cheeks went a little pink with pleasure.

  “I trust I won’t come unstuck at any time during the party?”

  “Oh no!” she said, through a mouthful of pins. She put them one by one into my porcupine pincushion with dainty precision, and said more clearly: “I wove it together, you see: it’s all one piece of fabric now. There’s nothing to come unstuck.”

  I considered the seamless pieces for a moment, and arrived at a potential setback. “What of my flares? The seams make them sit right.”

  “I’ll iron them in,” Vadim said, looking the dress up and down with a professional eye now rather than a longing one. “Then they’ll sit flat when you’re still and flare out when you dance. Leave it to me, lady.”

  On the whole, I found I approved of Vadim’s method of sewing. My creation was finished a few hours after we started, with only a few minor missteps and one nasty moment when we discovered that an error in Vadim’s joinings, once cut apart again, left significantly less fabric than before. Most opportunely, the only two pieces ruined were shoulder-ribbons of gauze, which were easily cut and attached again while Vadim apologised, explaining with amusing naivety that she had never discovered the flaw before because she had never done enough sewing.

  We were finished with the dress by mid-afternoon; just, in fact, as a footman came to inform me that Lord Topher had enquired if I were at home. I counted myself fortunate to have finished so coincidentally, because as long as Lord Topher didn’t know what I was wearing to Lord Pecus’ ball, I had a good chance of escaping a dance with him until the unmasking. I briskly cleaned away a few scraps of gold cloth and informed the footman that he could send Lord Topher up, while Vadim bustled the dress back to my own chambers.

  However, this time Lord Topher knew his stuff. He had brought a rose for me, and he presented it, brown eyes shy, with the ingenuously expressed hope that I would wear it tomorrow night.

  I eyed him with some severity. “Lord Topher, I believe you are attempting to cheat!”

  He laughed and blushed, but disclaimed all accusations of cheating. “Don’t forget, Lady Farrah, you owe me a dance! How can I claim it if I don’t know who you are?”

  “If that’s the case, I’m surprised you didn’t enquire after my costume,” I said.

  “Oh no!” protested Lord Topher disarmingly; “That would be cheating.”

  I couldn’t help laughing- which, as the event proved, was a mistake, for Lord Topher, who had been hovering a little uncertainly near the door, took heart and sat down. I tempered my annoyance with the comfort that I hadn’t promised to wear the rose, after all, and sat down opposite him.

  “Have they found the murderer yet?” he asked, changing the subject summarily. His manner had become positively buoyant, and I reflected with a silent sigh that my first impressions of Lord Topher had been all too correct: he was well into the throes of calf-love. If I had thought it would do the least good, I would have sent him right about his business, but I have found from experience that pointed disinterest and outright impoliteness have never dampened the ardour of the young.

  I steeled myself for a long and perhaps tiresome visit, and picked up the subject that Lord Topher had begun. “Not to my knowledge, my lord; but I’ve spoken only in passing with Lord Pecus today.”

  “Did you hear that they’ve taken the Earl of Horn in for questioning?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Coraline told me that Lord Pecus took him in this morning because the Watch found a witness who saw him go into the room after Raoul.”

  A simmering anger flushed my cheeks. The cheek of Melchior! He had been meeting Lord Pecus earlier for this very reason, no doubt; and had not seen fit to include me in the briefing! And Lord Pecus had not given any indication when he met me on the steps, either.

  “Well now, that’s very interesting!” I told Lord Topher lightly, swallowing my anger for a better time. Lord Pecus would be very, very sorry, if I had any say in the matter. “Did Coraline say who the witness was?”

  “A footman, or a butler: one of the liveried servants, anyway,” said Lord Topher, his eyes bright and enthusiastic. “Do you think he did it? The earl, I mean?”

  I smiled a little and indulged him. “He’s a good suspect. Lord Pecus thinks the murder was politically motiv
ated, and I’m inclined to agree with him.”

  “But he’s so old and round! He couldn’t have done it, Lady Farrah, it would be too disappointing!”

  “I shall look about for a better candidate in my inquiries,” I promised, amused again. At this point, it would have pleased me very much to find a suspect that Lord Pecus hadn’t; but despite the fact that the Earl of Horn was rotund and unromantic to the youthful eye, he was still a very likely suspect, and I didn’t hold out much hope.

  Lord Topher’s eyes sparkled again, bringing life to his otherwise quite ordinary face. “Are you trying to find the murderer too, my lady?”

  “If you won’t give me away to Lord Pecus, yes!” I said, laughingly. I had enough ire left to add: “He doesn’t approve of me investigating, if you please!”

  “You like excitement, don’t you, Lady Farrah?”

  “Certainly I do!” I told him briskly. “It strengthens the constitution and makes one much less likely to fall into fainting fits. I highly recommend it for today’s less resilient youth.”

  I stood while he was trying to decide whether or not I was joking, and said in a friendly tone: “Do greet Sir Coraline for me; I believe I met her at a soiree last week.”

  Lord Topher stood politely, if not enthusiastically, taking his cue like a gentleman, and assured me that he would say everything proper to his sister-in-law. It was only at the door that his grown-up air deserted him long enough to say: “Don’t forget our dance, Lady Farrah!”

  I shooed him out with laughing promises that the dance should not be forgotten, and returned to my chambers. Vadim was there before me, peeping from behind the partitioning door between our rooms to say excitedly: “Lady, my things have arrived!”

  I observed dispassionately that they had, and crooked a finger at her. “Show me.”

  Vadim entered the room fully, and did a turn. “It’s so light, lady!”

  I looked her up and down in critical approval. The girls below stairs had sewn the pieces together very competently, and the sapphire cloth suited her as perfectly as I had known it would.