Time Weaver

by Jacinta Maree

  “Apology accepted.” She quickly turned back around, her nerves frazzled. He did call her stupid last time, and it was an insult that bounced around her head a lot. Not having an education definitely lowered her self-esteem. Perhaps that’s why he said it. He knew she was insecure, and was able to unease her with a comment she couldn’t shake off.

  Unfazed, Klaus stepped closer. “Handel, Water Music, one of my favorites.”

  Elizabeth clenched up as Klaus hoisted her violin into position under her chin. His fingers were long and slender; the perfect fingers for playing. He then reached over and curved his hand around her free wrist that held the bow, pulling her up toward the strings. Instinctively, she wrenched her hand down and stepped out of her chair.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am helping.”

  “From memory, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  Klaus perked an eyebrow. “You look like you could be fun too.”

  Unamused, Elizabeth squinted at him, prompting Klaus to sigh. “I know I can be very stand offish. I was rude, inconsiderate and out of line. Please, Miss Wicker, accept my apology. I promise I will be more mindful of my actions in the future.”

  Elizabeth settled in her chair, hearing the sincerity in his voice. In the future. So he planned on interacting with her frequently. “I forgive you.”

  Klaus smiled. “Thank you. Please, allow me to show you how to play.” He took her wrist once more, positioning the bow against the violin’s strings.

  “I know how to play.”

  “Then I’ll teach you something new.” The chill on the back of her neck pulled her entire body as tightly as the strings pulled along the board. He was inches from her, chin against her temple and his breath a dry warmth across her skin. He was far too close and intimate for her comfort. Elizabeth had had boys chase her before, but they always tried to win her favor by flashing cash or bragging about their latest gadgets. Klaus didn’t play tricks or try to charm her with pretty objects. “Are you uncomfortable?” he asked.

  She shook her head automatically, and then clenched her eyes shut embarrassed. He guided her arm gently. It was an eight-bar piece, which he got her to repeat, guiding her and quickening her tempo until he was able to drop his hand and step away. On her own, Elizabeth kept the tempo going, where Klaus stepped around to a nearby piano and joined in. She felt her heart melt at the shift of the tune. The sweet ring from the piano against her violin’s fast chirp was harmonious. Time, which had felt too fast and broken, now slowed around her. Her world calmed beneath the melody.

  “I used to play this piece a lot growing up,” Klaus explained. His stare shifted beyond the walls and deep into his memory. Klaus abruptly stopped, causing Elizabeth to stumble out of rhythm. He whipped his head toward the door, alerted by a noise.

  “What is it?” Elizabeth asked. Klaus immediately shot up and ran out.

  #

  Two days dragged by since she last spoke to Klaus, but there wasn’t a moment that passed when his face didn’t cross her mind. Every corner she turned, every room she entered, her heart rate picked up, hoping she’d find him. Just as she let her guard down, Klaus appeared with a loud, triumphant cheer.

  “There are only a few instances of true brilliance and Sir Wicker has been present for all of them.” Elizabeth had been eating alone in the dining room and sat upwards in her chair. He was smiling, his upbeat mood capturing the room.

  She smiled back. “Did Doctor Wicker tell you to say that to me?” she joked just as William stepped around the door, following Klaus in.

  “Those are his words, not mine.”

  Elizabeth quickly pursed her lips. She had hoped to hide any familiarity she had toward Klaus from him, in fear he’d send her packing to become a seamstress.

  “And yes, I know about your little run-ins. Klaus confessed everything.” He gave her a quick frown.

  Elizabeth bowed her head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t realize daughters tend to do the exact opposite of what their fathers say.” His lecturing tone shattered with a quick, light laugh. “Guess you really are a Wicker.”

  Elizabeth perked back up. “I promise to behave better in the future.” She then motioned at his formal attire, matching dark blue suit and vibrant gold tie. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Tonight is the Barricks’ annual grand-ball. It had slipped my mind with everything happening, but as society dictates, we’re required to go.”

  “We?” Elizabeth repeated.

  “You are my daughter. You are expected to make an appearance to these types of gatherings. A life among the nobles can’t be lived behind brick walls. With your transition into high society, it’s very important to be seen at these events. With some luck, we may even find you a suitor.”

  Elizabeth’s attention shot back to Klaus at the mention of her finding a suitor. Disappointedly, he didn’t seem the least bit fazed.

  “I don’t know if that is a good idea. I don’t know the first thing about these types of parties.”

  “Parties are networking opportunities. Standard pleasantries mixed with a degree of appropriate social etiquette should suffice.” He leaned down to escort her out of her chair.

  Reluctantly, Elizabeth pulled back. Appropriate social etiquette was not in the manual for servants at the academy. In the past week alone, she had already knocked the wine glass off the table five times. She couldn’t imagine a ballroom packed with judgemental, wine sipping nobles watching her every trip and stumble.

  “Will Klaus also be joining us?”

  Klaus glanced at William before clearing his throat. “I have business elsewhere, Miss Wicker. Sir Wicker may have found a new lead on the whereabouts of Nikolas.”

  “How did you find a new lead?”

  William fixed his collar. “A healthy heart doesn’t just break overnight. There are signs of a Time Collector’s influence. Sadly, the Robertson family had to pay the price. Two sons and the grandfather. Though, the grandfather may have been a coincidence. There’s a pattern, families belonging to the mines seem to be struck down with a run of misfortune. Klaus is going to check it out. Usually, I would join him, but we have to keep up appearances.”

  “A new lead on my mother’s murderer is far more important than some party,” Elizabeth scoffed.

  “Party or not, the Time Collector still wouldn’t be something you’ll worry yourself with,” William quickly countered. “Now, upstairs. I’ve set out an appropriate dress for you to wear with the matching Wicker cufflinks. You must wear the family crest on all formal occasions. You’re nobility. It’s time you start looking like it.”

  Chapter Eleven:

  Elizabeth dressed herself in the gown William had prepared, but the sizing was all wrong. He overestimated her waist size and underestimated the space required for her breasts, which left her choking and slipping over the long trail. At least the gentle bronze was a flattering color against her pale complexion. She was also given an elegant gold and white mask that curved around her eyes in the shape of a flattened W. The mask covered up to her forehead, spiking behind into long, feather talons that folded against her pinned hair like a wing. From her gently curled hair down to her jewel covered chest, arms, wrists and leggings, Elizabeth felt like a completely different person. She twirled in front of the mirror, unable to recognize herself.

  Her sense of wonder heightened after stepping into the ballroom to the Barricks. It was exactly how Elizabeth had imagined an evening with the noble families would unfold. Even the air felt stuffed with self-importance and expensive wine. Everyone paraded around in large eccentric masks, vaguely concealing their identity. All of the women had their hair curled and styled beneath large brimmed hats with matching necklaces, bracelets, and high heeled shoes all trimmed with expensive silk and silk cufflinks. As they walked, their large puffed dresses trailed behind them in rivers. The men were just as glamourous with top hats ornamented in copper frames and decorative charms. Elizabeth�
�s neck craned back as she walked beneath the massive chandelier that rotated in a slow, steady rotation, its slim curved frame gently rocking the strings of pearls and diamonds dangling below it, making the room sparkle.

  In the corner, a band of musicians played, bouncing along with trumpets, saxophones, and a piano. The room buzzed and twirled in its magic. Meeting the nobles as William Wicker’s daughter and not a servant was hard to swallow; most of the families perked up their eyebrows unsure how to address her. Elizabeth felt just as awkward. She bowed like a servant. Walked like a servant. The only differences between her and the waitresses handing out finger food were their outfits.

  “Miss Elizabeth, will you be okay if I step aside to speak with Sir Grove privately?” She had glued herself to William’s arm since walking across the threshold, so she was reluctant to let him leave her behind. She nodded her head anyway, now alone and fully aware how alienated she looked from the rest of the crowd.

  To avoid the horrors of small talk, Elizabeth pressed herself to the walls where she could gaze outside at the freckle of the city’s lights. The golden city was a busy place, even this late into the night as the gentle roar of the overheard air balloons circled the skies. If she strained her eyes, she could see the tip of her old academy way off into the distance behind the walls separating the rich from everything else. Linking to her reminiscence, the touch of a familiar clammy hand grabbed her elbow.

  “Someone needs to tell that doctor he can’t put a saddle on a pig and call it a mare.” She spun at Arthur’s voice.

  Her heart raced and she defensively crossed her arms. Nothing tore her down faster than Arthur’s belittling stare and he had been tearing her down for years. Even dressed in such wealth did nothing for Elizabeth’s self-esteem and with one look, she felt she was back in her old sweaty uniform. It was foolish to think wearing the Wicker crest would deter Arthur. But it was different. She wasn’t a servant, not anymore. In all her years of running around corners to flee him, she finally didn’t have to bite her tongue.

  “Same old bark, I guess it’s true what they say about old dogs and new tricks,” she countered with raised eyebrows, mimicking his condescending tone. “I’m afraid the only one smelling of bacon is you, Beaumont.” She reached out and patted his round stomach. Arthur’s golden suit did very little to slim his heavy frame. Not even the black pillow of frilly lace tucked under his chin could hide the chin rolls.

  The veins in his neck jumped and for a split second Elizabeth couldn’t believe what she’d said. She tensed, expecting his fist to come flying but instead of striking her, Arthur turned his head away in a strained, forced laugh.

  “Common, tasteless girls like you don’t last long in a lions’ den. The fact you think you’ve escaped me tells me much about your lack of intelligence. You believe you’re going to live a life of ease with that doctor. How pathetic.” He ran his finger along the strap of her dress and followed the narrow bridge of her collarbone. “This world is mine. I am everything here. And there will be a day where I can finally shatter you into a thousand, tiny, broken little pieces. Not even the doctor can put that egg back together.”

  “Your fascination with me is the only thing that’s pathetic.” She snapped back. His eyes glistened with what she could only presume was sadistic joy, noting how his mere touch still made her body recoil.

  “You never were a smart little piglet, now were you?”

  “Smart enough to escape you.”

  “But you haven’t, that’s my point. If you want to survive this world, then you better pucker those lips up. As an apology, you will be present, for my amusement, at the Beaumont mansion during the Red Moon Festival. I’m sure you know the house I’m referring to, you used to clean the toilets after all.” He dug into his pocket to reveal a crisp, white envelope folded over with a red wax stamp sealing it close. Elizabeth eyed the invitation as though he had pulled out a knife. He couldn’t be serious. Was he really inviting her to the Beaumont estate? He must think she’s as dumb as a potted plant to agree to that.

  Elizabeth laughed, bewildered. “I would rather have my teeth pulled.”

  Over his shoulder, Arthur clicked his fingers, signalling to someone from across the hall. Darting through the crowds, a maid approached with a glass of wine. The moment she stepped out from between the guests, Elizabeth’s world shattered. Sara. Sara’s hand shook as she passed over the wine, her face carefully turned away as though trying to hide her fading black eye.

  Elizabeth’s look of horror must’ve pleased him, as Arthur took the glass and smashed it across Sara’s face. Blood splattered across the white tiles as Sara did everything in her power not to scream. The surrounding nobles glanced away, their social protocols keeping them quiet. Elizabeth’s body locked up. Specs of red splattered Elizabeth’s dress and cheek. The swell of blood coloring Sara’s face stunned her. Sara cowered away, protecting her face as Arthur dropped the remaining glass stem to the ground.

  Elizabeth couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even blink. Her eyes swelled with angered tears, but her rage paralysed her. Arthur smirked. “So clumsy. Not to worry, the servant will clean it up.”

  He looked at Sara, waiting for her to drop to her knees and sweep the remaining shards into her hands. Instead, Sara turned and ran back into the crowd. Elizabeth’s stomach lurched her forward with a heavy dry retch. She wanted to chase her friend. She wanted to puke. She wanted to push Arthur out the window and slash that smile off his smug, rotten sadistic face. She wanted to cry, scream, and use her bare hands to hurt him. Instead, she simply stood there. Stunned.

  “I’m sure we have an understanding.” Arthur could see the hesitancy in her eyes. He winked and turned to leave. “Try and wear something not so embarrassing.”

  Her understanding of the world came into focus. Men like Arthur Beaumont did not vanish. His cruelty had no limits, and even if it meant costing her life, she was going to stop him. Her mind clouded. Common sense hazed behind it. As Arthur turned away, Elizabeth picked up a shard of glass. She clutched the piece in her palm, adrenaline deadening her fingers that didn’t feel the edges cut her.

  She reared her arm upwards, her vision spy glassed onto the exposed flab on Arthur’s turned neck when a hand grabbed her. Immediately, she tried to wretch her arm free and turned to a servant in a black fitted tuxedo. He glared harshly down at her and her body shrunk beneath his shadow. Even through her silk gloves, she could feel the crisp heat of his grip.

  “Unhand me!” Elizabeth pulled away. He didn’t shift despite her yanking, his expression unaltered until Lady Claudia approached.

  “Miss Wicker? What’s going on?”

  Elizabeth twisted around, her humiliation overshadowed by rage. Lady Claudia’s mask only covered a quarter of her face. The frame covered her left eye as the rest of the ornament curled upwards in mimic of a royal crown. Her face was perfection, from her apple green eyes, gentle blonde hair, and natural pouted lips down to her cream-colored skin.

  Even scowling, she was beautiful. “Get out of our sight.” She ordered and immediately the butler released Elizabeth’s wrist. Before she could speak again, Elizabeth ran. Arthur was long gone, lost in the tightly packed suits. Elizabeth shoved her way toward the exit. She felt breathless. Her chest tightened, pain scratching at each sharp breath.

  “Elizabeth?” A pair of arms grabbed her and pulled her into his chest. She almost collapsed out of exhaustion as William gently, and carefully, took her out from the crowd. “What happened? You’ve got blood on you! Are you hurt?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, her thoughts spinning emotions too raw for her to grab. “Sara!” One of the maids, Arthur cut her face badly! Please, help her. Help her.”

  “Where did she go?”

  Elizabeth pointed vaguely toward the way Sara had bolted. “That way.”

  William looked up, before nodding. “I’ll look after her. I’ll call the car around to take you home. I’ll make sure your friend is okay.” Elizabeth shook her head,
unable to move. William forced her into a stand. “Go, this isn’t a discussion.”

  He ran out toward the front and waved his car around. The driver stepped out, opening the door as Elizabeth disappeared into the backseat. She watched William race back into the mansion, rolling up his sleeves though preparing for surgery. She wanted to stay, she wanted to make sure Sara was fine, but the car pulled out of the driveway too quickly.

  Right then, watching the mansion shrink through the back window, Elizabeth promised to never be so helpless. Not ever again.

  Chapter Twelve:

  Once she was home, Elizabeth paced the foyer in anxious strides. Hours ticked by, but sleep never crossed her mind. Flashes of red kept popping up, twisting her stomach in her disgusted rage. Over and over her hands would form fists but with nothing to punch. Heartburn fired up like a hot bullet. Worst of all was the guilt she couldn’t swallow. It was her fault Sara was targeted.

  The front door kicked open, startling Elizabeth. William’s shadow stretched across the foyer tiles. Behind him, as the door came to a close, Elizabeth caught sound of distant sirens.

  She rushed to him. “Is Sara okay?”

  William smoothed his hands gently on Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Your friend is alright. Nothing but some cuts and grazers.”

  Her chest deflated, greatly relieved. It was William’s stiffened grip that gave away his anxiety. “What is it?”

  “There’s been another incident. With the Time Collector.”

  “Another one? What happened?”

  William shook his head, running his dried muddy hands through his hair. Now that she looked closely, his entire suit was covered in dirt. “It wasn’t his fault. There was nothing he could do.”

  He? Who is he? Elizabeth thought on it for a moment, before realising, “Are you referring to Klaus?”