She turned to go, but he could see her falter a bit, perhaps done in by her exertions.
Without thinking, he offered his arm to her. With the exception of Grace, he’d never touched one of them before.
The dowager countess looked at the crooked elbow as though he were offering her a rotten piece of fruit.
“You know,” she said, “I usually decline all offers of assistance. It does not do to give your enemies the idea that you’ve gone weak. I find that to be particularly true with Fidelia’s father. That man rankles me so. Well, when he can manage to stay awake and remembers to rankle.” Then she smiled. “But as the person attached to the arm is so handsome, how can I refuse?”
Then she slipped her right hand, pistol and all, into the crook, using her cane with her left.
“Where are we going?” he asked. He could see now, although she’d never admit it, she was tired, a little wobbly, too.
“Back to the drawing room. Let them see me arrive in style for once.”
After conveying her there, he’d moved to leave them immediately, all of them dressed in their typical smart evening wear: white tie and black tail for the men, fancy dresses and fashionable accessories for the women, with the exception of the black lace-up boots on Lady Lizzy’s feet.
“Won’t you stay a bit, Daniel?” the earl called him back. “Please, do give us a report.”
Daniel started to give one, and the earl even interjected with a few questions, but Daniel could tell he wasn’t really listening to the answers, and then the earl cut him off with, “Yes, I’m sure you’re doing a splendid job. Well! Tomorrow will be another big day for you. No doubt, you’ll be wanting your bed now”—effectively dismissing him much as he’d tried to dismiss Will earlier.
“To the attic?” Lady Lizzy said.
“What, my dear?” the earl said.
“Will Daniel be sleeping in the attic?”
“Where else would he sleep?”
“Only, it doesn’t seem quite fair, does it? Given all he’s doing for us.”
Daniel liked her for that.
“Come to think of it, why should anyone sleep in the attic?” Grace said. “It must get so hot up there in the summer.”
And Daniel liked Grace even more then for that. She not only thought about him, whom she now knew, a bit, more than anyone in the house had ever known him really, but she also thought of the other servants, whom she did not know.
“Yes, well, then it is a good thing it is not summer,” the earl said. “Good night, Daniel.”
Daniel smiled in the darkness of his bedroom now. He’d been relieved the earl had settled the matter. While a nicer bed and a larger room would be, well, nicer and larger, it had been bad enough, earlier in the evening, when he’d eaten his dinner alone. It had been as though he were caught between worlds: not a part of Upstairs, although he was mixing with them now; no longer a part of Downstairs.
And yet somehow, responsible for all of them.
It was a lot, but he wouldn’t shrink from that responsibility.
And tomorrow would be a new day.
Chapter
Forty-Nine
If this menace had never come to Porthampton Abbey, Lizzy thought, looking down and admiring her feet, perhaps I would have had to invent it. Otherwise, how would I ever have wound up with such a lovely pair of boots?
The boots she had traded Fanny the red dress for were worn almost through in spots, but still, they were way more practical than the footwear Lizzy was typically expected to wear. Heeled satin shoes were fine enough for dancing, she supposed, but it wasn’t like a person could get much else done while wearing them.
Now, if only she could persuade Father to let her wear some sort of trousers every day and not just when she went out riding, which didn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon. Yes, now that she had these boots, trousers would be the next ticket for her. But where to find a pair in her size? It wasn’t as though they’d be out shopping anytime soon, either. On the contrary, it seemed as though they might now be expected to spend the rest of their lives alternating between just their bedrooms to sleep, the dining room to eat, and the drawing room to talk, with no deviations.
In fact, the drawing room was where Lizzy found herself now, ruminating on her pleasing footwear and future clothing options. Another breakfast had passed, and now they were all engaged in another chat about what had been done and what still needed to be done.
She supposed she should be more focused on what was being said, but as interesting as this had all been in the beginning, it was tough to maintain an attitude of high alert at all times. Perhaps if she could practice more weaponry?
“Lizzy,” Kate hissed from one side on the sofa, “I know your boots are a source of endless fascination for you, but do try to pay attention. This could be important.”
Ouch.
“…so I was thinking that if we begin by setting up some farmers and villagers with guns on the west side of the estate,” Daniel was saying, “and then space them out every—”
“Yes, yes, this is all very fascinating,” Father said, clapping his hands against the arms of his chair, “and I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job with it all. Now then. I do believe it’s time for my daily walk.”
Father could be so impetuous.
Lizzy knew people thought Kate took after Father, that they were of a similar nature, and she thought so, too. But she also thought that in this, his tendency to impetuosity, there was something of him in her, too. Whereas Grace—who knew who Grace took after? Still, even Lizzy could see that this wasn’t a good idea.
And Kate, who so often disagreed with Lizzy—well, Kate disagreed often with everyone, really—clearly concurred.
“Father,” Kate said, “not this again. You can’t be serious!”
“Of course I can,” he said, rising. “No matter what else is going on, we should not give up on the things that define us. We must not surrender our freedom. You don’t expect me to remain cooped up, a prisoner in my own home forever, do you?”
It was as though Lizzy could see the gears of Father’s brain cranking along: We are British. We will not give in. We will have our daily walk. Otherwise, civilization is at an end.
“Fine,” Kate said, “you’re serious. Then the problem is that you’re not taking the threat seriously enough.”
“Of course I’m taking things seriously! But would it help matters any for me to set fire to my hair and then run around like a scared little maniac screaming as flames fly off my head? We must go on. We can’t give in.”
“No one is suggesting that you give in, Father,” Kate said, “only that you be sensible.”
“Yes, you are suggesting I give in!” Father boomed. “You are suggesting I abandon our way of life, the only way of life I have ever known, and give in to fear. Did Henry the Fifth let fear stop him at Agincourt?”
“Of course not,” Kate said, “but he did have an entire army with him.”
“Well, then. What of King George and Queen Mary? Did they let a little thing like the Great War keep them from going out among their people? Did they give in to fear and stay cooped up inside their palace?”
“Actually,” the duke put in, “that’s pretty much exactly what they did.”
“Fie on them, then! I should hope that when the next war comes, and there is always a next war, that whoever sits on the throne then will be brave enough, British enough, to leave the palace and go out among the people to offer them comfort, whatever the personal risks.”
Actually, Lizzy thought, I think this might be the next war.
“But you’re not talking about leaving the abbey to give comfort to anyone,” Kate objected, clearly growing exasperated. “You’re talking about taking a stupid walk.”
“And are you suggesting,” the duke said, “that you are somehow more British than King George and Queen Mary?”
“Huh,” Father said reflectively. “I never thought of it like that, but I suppose I am.”
/>
Before anyone could say anything further, Mother rose, too.
“Good,” Kate muttered under her breath to Lizzy. “Now she’ll overrule him.”
“Your father is right,” Mother said, slipping one hand through the crook in his arm. She looked a little frightened as she said this, which in itself was shocking—when had Mother ever shown fear about anything?—but then her quavering, over-bright smile settled into a firm and steady one as she added with resolve, “If Martin says we should go for our daily walk, then we shall go for our daily walk.”
For the first time, Father looked uncertain.
“You know, that’s not necessary,” he said, stumbling the words out. “I said that I would go, but I never meant to imply that you… That is to say…”
“Of course it is necessary.” She patted his hand. “Where you go, I go.”
“But it’s sheer madness!” Kate objected.
“Martin,” Grandmama said, “you know how I hate to point out the error in anyone else’s ways…”
Lizzy couldn’t prevent a snort at this startling announcement, and judging by the several similar noises she heard, others in the group couldn’t, either.
“But I do feel the need to ask,” Grandmama went on, “are you sure you’re behaving quite sanely? Have you perhaps misplaced some of your marbles? If that is the case, I’m sure we’d all be most happy to help you hunt for them.”
“Please,” Mother said steely, “do not speak to your son in that fashion.” Then she turned to Kate. “Nor you your father.”
Father looked as surprised as any of them. But then he patted the hand holding on to his arm as he said, “Thank you, Fee.”
Lizzy hadn’t heard Father call Mother that in a long time, it seemed, not since before all this started. “Fee” was something he’d always called her when particularly pleased with something she’d said or done, and it rang now as an old familiar.
Still, could no one stop Father?
As though all heads were attached to the same puppet master’s strings, they swiveled as one now to face the duke.
The duke had stepped in once before, pulling rank to say that Daniel was a better choice to lead their military campaign than Cousin Benedict would be. Surely the duke would intervene now.
“What?” the duke said. “Don’t look at me. Even if I thought it was madness, and I do, what can I say about it? It’s still the man’s home, it’s still his castle. I only got involved before because there was a better choice to be made that involved all of us. But if he wants to walk, far be it from me to stop him.”
“Thank you so much for your permission,” Father said icily, with a sarcastic tilt of his head.
“At least wait until we’ve fully erected the perimeter defense,” Daniel said.
“I will not wait,” Father said petulantly. “I’ve already waited long enough.”
“Then at least take a bodyguard with you,” Kate said.
“An armed guard would be best,” Lizzy added, thinking, Perhaps I could do it?
“Yes,” Grace said. “Why not take Daniel?”
“I will not take Daniel!” Father shouted. He must have realized how he sounded, for almost immediately he added with some impatience and a dismissive wave of the hand, “Daniel is busy. He has more important things to do now than stand attendance, escorting an old couple about as they stroll around their property.”
“Well, you must take someone with you,” Kate insisted.
Maybe me? Lizzy thought.
“I know!” Kate snapped her fingers. “The stable boy?”
Father opened his mouth, no doubt to object, as he’d objected to every sensible suggestion they’d made. But then he must have seen all their faces aligned against him and realized he had to make some sort of concession.
“Fine,” he muttered at last with little grace. “We’ll take the stable boy.”
Chapter
Fifty
If the earl didn’t look like he wanted Will Harvey to accompany them out here as he and Her Ladyship took their little stroll, well, it wasn’t as though Will exactly wanted to be there, either.
Normally Will loved to be outdoors, practically lived his life there, particularly on such a glorious day: a crisp, cold one, and with a sky overhead like a blue-and-white marble.
But he’d prefer not to be out there like this.
In one of their few unguarded moments together yesterday, Daniel had mentioned to Will that as a footman, he’d always felt like little more than wallpaper. Will had been surprised at this declaration. As the stable boy, he’d never felt that way. True, he was still a form of servant, but one people actually talked to and even showed respect for; whenever Lady Kate came to the stables, which was almost daily before this all started, even she deferred to his opinion if it was something to do with Wyndgate.
These fancy people needed him to care for their most highly prized animals, and they had a high regard for what he was able to accomplish. His job had been an important one, far bigger than that of someone whose role it was to convey a tray of tea safely from one area of the house to another. You could always get another footman, but you couldn’t so easily replace someone who was a master with horses, someone like Will. In his job, Will had never felt like wallpaper before in his life.
But he felt like wallpaper now.
Trailing with his pistol, vigilant, behind these two married stiffs.
Marriage.
Over the years, Will had had occasion to see the earl and Her Ladyship together from time to time. Theirs had never impressed him as a real marriage, not like the one he’d observed all his life between Aunt Jess and Uncle Ezra—poor Uncle Ezra whom he’d not even had time to properly mourn yet.
Aunt Jess’s and Uncle Ezra’s lives had been bound together by hard work, mutual affection—no, not just mere affection; it had been love, a lifetime of it—and their joint desire to see Will healthy and happy in the world. But these two? What had they ever known or shown but stiff formality? Why, he doubted they even slept in the same bed.
“I do hate to see you worrying yourself about things you cannot change,” Her Ladyship was saying now as she patted the earl’s hand. “You can only do the best that you can do.”
What was that?
Will had heard those words before, if less formally said.
When there was some concern over something at the farm—would the crop come in on time? Was there some sort of blight?—Aunt Jess would always say, “Now, Ezra, I’ll not have you worrying yourself sick. You’ve done your best and no one can ever say different.”
Aunt Jess would offer Uncle Ezra comfort and he would take it. They were always a team against whatever the world might throw at them.
And then Uncle Ezra would thank her and kiss her, laying his lips on hers despite the little boy in the room.
And now the earl was thanking Her Ladyship, pressing his lips to hers, heedless of the young man standing guard behind them, heedless of Will.
Was it possible that these two were something more than just incredibly lucky and wealthy? Was it possible that these two loved each other, after all, were a team together against the world in the way that Aunt Jess and Uncle Ezra had been?
Later, Will would think, If I hadn’t been so shocked at the sight of them kissing…
Later, Will would think, If it had been a man—it had only ever been men who changed before…
Later, Will would think, If it had been anyone in the world other than Aunt Jess…
Will heard the sounds before he saw the cause of it, rustling in the bushes, far off in the distance from Her Ladyship’s side, and then the sound of feet.
He looked over to see three figures coming their way, two men and one woman, their clothes ragged, their hair wild, the woman’s gray; not stumbling, but rather, running with only the slightest of hitches in their strides, the woman faster than the other two, as though despite that hitching stride she would race to him, to be reunited with him as fast as was huma
nly possible.
“Aunt Jess!” Will cried, realizing who the woman was, joyful—joyful!—and washed over with relief at finally seeing her again.
It had been so long; he had waited to see her again for so long.
In his excitement, he held his arms open wide for her embrace, dropping his pistol in the process.
But she ignored his open arms, and by the time he registered what he was really seeing—not Aunt Jess, not like this—the creature that had once been his closest living relative was practically flying like a wolf through the air toward Her Ladyship. The moment her feet had left the ground and before Will could properly react, the earl shoved his wife out of the way and to the grass, sheltering her body with his—much as Will had done with Kate, so long ago now it seemed—and on top of the earl’s body thudded the form of Aunt Jess.
Will scrambled on the ground for his pistol, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the others as the earl writhed in an effort to escape the questing, snapping teeth of his attacker, even as he steadfastly protected his wife’s body with his own—how the reeking stench poured off her—and the two men, the other two creatures drew closer. And now he had the pistol in hand once more, rising to his feet, and Will finally had his arm up and was shooting, once, twice, at the heads of both men who were only mere steps away before they too would reach the earl and Her Ladyship, and they were falling.
Then Will was pointing his arm downward, laying his gun against the creature’s skull and cocking his pistol. At the sound, so close to its ear, the creature stopped and looked up at him, teeth bared, its expression a horrible gaping rictus, angry at being disturbed. Will saw the skin then, up close for the first time, an ashen gray color like nothing living. Still, he searched those eyes, hoping to find some remnant of the person he knew. But his search was in vain, for all that was there in that milky inhuman gaze was death and savage hunger.
With an anguished cry but a hand that never wavered, Will pulled the trigger, putting a bullet through the brain of the creature that had once been the only real mother he had ever known.
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