He dimly discerned that the source of his discomfort lay in the woman before him, and her unauthorised presence in his house. If she were not entangled in the business, he believed he might leave his sister to reign over Hyde Place for another day, and with pleasure.
‘I will agree to that, provided you return to Somerdale with me.’ He spoke this decision firmly, like the Monarch that he was.
Bessie merely cast him a look of deep scepticism, and her manner displayed how thoroughly unimpressed she was by this display of kingly power. Grunewald expected a tirade of renewed argument, but instead she spoke but one word: ‘Why?’
Grunewald opened his mouth, and closed it again. Why indeed? ‘It is of no use to remind you of the trifling concept of danger, I suppose?’
‘You thought nothin’ of that, when you came here. Why should you expect me to be cowed, if you are not?’
‘Because this is my business. It is my responsibility to resolve this problem, as the Gaustin. But it is not yours! Why should you expose yourself to all the dangers of a tangled problem not of your making, when the outcome cannot possibly affect you?’
She grinned at that, her dark eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve never had such a fine adventure in me life. Nor any adventure.’
‘I know your sort,’ he muttered grimly. ‘Never happy unless you are daring some danger, and risking yourself in some new and thrilling way.’
She laughed at that. ‘Now, my Gent. Be honest. If I were some pliant miss as would allow you to shepherd her gently away to safety, and then sit meekly at home wi’ her sewin’, would you like me anywhere near as much as you do?’
He narrowed his eyes at her, which had no effect whatsoever upon her merriment. ‘I cannot imagine where you received the impression that I hold you in any favour whatsoever.’
Bessie nodded her agreement, a dimple of mischief lingering in one cheek. ‘Aye, for I am sure you often ride to the rescue of damsels you ain’t at all fond of. Now, since you’re here you may be of use to me. Yer sister left but quarter of an hour ago, and I was watchin’ to be sure she was safely off before I go lookin’ around.’
‘Do you imagine I am yours to command, baggage?’
‘When I am engaged upon the King’s business, yes.’ She shook out her hair, twin dimples of laughter appearing in her cheeks once more. ‘You heard that we are engaged, of course. I want to discover what plans have been fixed for tomorrow evenin’, if I can.’
Grunewald abandoned all hope of persuading her, and fell in step beside her as she made for the door. If he could not convince her to abandon her interference in his business, at least he was at hand to ensure that nothing disastrous befell her in the execution of her self-appointed duty. For a time. ‘When you say we,’ he commented in a casual way, ‘to whom are you referring?’
‘Me and Mr. Green. I suppose the two of you will decide, at some point, which is to continue wearin’ his face.’
Grunewald halted upon the threshold in shock. ‘You do not mean to marry this fetch of Mr. Green!’
Bessie sighed deeply, a sound full of weariness. ‘You are tiresomely excitable, my Gent. Of course I ain’t fixin’ to marry him. Your sister’d never have it, apart from anythin’ else. We are playin’ a fine game of stringin’ each other along, and who knows where it will end? But not wi’ marriage.’
Grunewald felt curiously chastened. Excitable? Him? He had, for ages past, suffered under a degree of ennui that wholly precluded his becoming excitable about anything. Had he emerged from that state at long last, only to make a fool of himself by growing excitable about foolish things? What was wrong with him?
They entered Grunewald’s library, a room which appeared to have been adopted by his sister as her headquarters, for it was much changed. Bessie went at once to a pile of books laid haphazardly upon the central table, and began to search through them. He joined her. The titles intrigued him, and he took up many of them as she set them aside. They were guides to Lincolnshire. Some of them were geographical in nature, filled with maps and discussions of the local landscapes. Others were volumes from assorted peerages, and the pages of these bristled with strips of torn paper serving as bookmarks. Flicking through, he noted that his sister had marked every aristocratic family within a radius of fifty miles of Lincoln.
‘Has she invited all of these families?’ he asked of Bessie.
Bess glanced over the saved entries. ‘Aye. Made a great point of it, too.’
Grunewald frowned, and replaced the volumes upon the table. What could lie behind her interest in powerful English families? If Balligumph was right and her behaviour mimicked Lyrriant’s, perhaps she, too, sought to achieve more than waking those long lost to Torpor. He had discovered for himself that more families than Isabel’s possessed a hereditary link to Aylfenhame, and sometimes the powers that came attendant with it; was his sister, like the Piper, trying to discover such families, and awaken their sleeping heritage?
This explanation threw some light upon her behaviour, but not enough. Why was she focused upon wealthy, even aristocratic, families? What manner of special interest was she taking in the privileged few, and what did she hope to achieve by attempting to gather them up?
‘You have no idea, I suppose, why my sister is interested in such people?’
Bessie shook her head. ‘None, yet. I will try for more today.’ She moved away from the table and began searching in different places about the room. She met with little success, judging by the dissatisfied frown which marred her features.
‘Has she spoken of me?’ Grunewald asked.
Bessie looked up at him. ‘She would like to get hold of you, certainly. That is where I’m to be of use, you know. But I dunnot yet know why, nor what her complaint is wi’ you.’
Grunewald sighed deeply, for he could no longer avoid acknowledging to himself the usefulness of Bessie's venture. ‘I wish you would attempt to discover it,’ he said, with an unfamiliar feeling of diffidence. ‘If you can do so at no risk to yourself. None whatsoever, do you understand?’
Bess smiled at him; not the mischievous grin he was used to receiving from her, but an honest, warm smile. ‘I understand.’
He nodded and looked away, feeling oddly uncomfortable. ‘You are not finding anything of use among these books, I collect?’
‘She is too wily to write down anythin’ of the sort I was hopin’ for. I knew it, really, but I chose to hope meself mistaken.’
The door opened that moment, and Grunewald was instantly alert. He put himself between the door and Bessie, in case it should prove to be his sister returning.
Instead, Drig appeared. He grinned at his master, and made him so low a bow as to almost dislodge the towering plum velvet hat that he wore. ‘Gaustin.’
‘Drig,’ said Grunewald sourly. ‘You have something to report?’
Drig eyed his master with amusement, as though he saw directly through Grunewald’s unwelcoming manner to the cause. Which perhaps he did. ‘Blood magic,’ he said without preamble.
Grunewald blinked. ‘What.’
Drig glanced at Bessie.
‘It can be of no use attempting to hide anything from her,’ Grunewald said — with, if anything, an increase of sourness. This display of ill-humour merely earned him an amused look from the lady, so he abandoned it with a sigh. ‘Bessie is full worthy of our confidence,’ he amended.
Drig’s lips curved into a wry smile. ‘Lovely. Well then, my Gent. Bess will have told you that most of your servants remain, only they are unaware that their master has been supplanted. Your sister has brought but three of her own supporters into the house, and your retainers are none too happy about it. And that’s because we have got ourselves no less than two goblin sorcerers in the building, both with a flair for the blood arts.’
That surprised Grunewald. He thought fast, the pieces coming together rapidly in his mind. ‘It begins to make sense,’ he remarked.
Drig nodded.
Bessie had drifted back towards them, and
now looked up curiously into Grunewald’s face.
‘The blood arts,’ he said. ‘You will not have heard of such things, I make no doubt.’
‘Never,’ said Bessie.
‘That is because they are ancient arts – arts at which goblins tend to excel, by point of interest — and they have been long out of favour. The Kostigern made significant use of them during the Trials, and in the wake of that, few were willing to maintain the practice – or to own that they did. It is many long years since I last heard of them being used.’ Grunewald began to pace, his mind full of new ideas which did little for his peace of mind. ‘A great many things may be done with a person’s blood. I shall not bore you by listing them all; I believe there is but one particular use which is of relevance here. With a sample of blood, even just a small one, it is possible to discover the blood links that tie families to one another.’
‘Trackin’ bloodlines?’ Bessie said.
‘Indeed.’
Incomprehensibly, Bessie giggled. In response to his inquiring look, she explained, ‘You haven’t spent much time wi’ the grand folk if you ain’t followin’ my line of thinkin’.’
‘I thought I had,’ he replied, mystified.
She laughed out loud. ‘In public places, no doubt. Ballrooms and the like. But in private, when they think no one is listenin’, they talk about all manner of things which worry ‘em a great deal. Do you have any idea how many secret liaisons are conducted between members of wealthy families? I cannot understand why, not considerin’ how much they then have to fret and worry about who is the rightful son of who, and whether or not their legitimate heirs are their own blood or not.’
Drig grinned. ‘Set a blood sorcerer loose among the elite of England, and much mischief may be had.’
Bess cackled with a vindictive delight which endeared her considerably to Grunewald. ‘I would give a deal to witness it,’ she said with high delight.
‘But that cannot be her purpose,’ said Grunewald. ‘This is about my family.’
Drig and Bessie looked at him with twin expressions of inquiry.
‘She seeks to prove her bloodline, and thereby, her claim to the Goblin Throne. It is my blood she seeks to draw, in order to prove her right to depose me. And if she is my elder, as she may well be, it will be difficult indeed for me to deny her right to do so. Furthermore! I am now aware, as I was not before, that my father enjoyed some form of secret liaison, as you put it, with some woman of whose existence I never heard of; someone, in all probability, human. Perhaps she was of these parts, which would explain my sister’s choosing to settle here. She suspects that her mother was from one of these grand families, but knows not which it was. In which case, she need only use her own blood in order to discover the truth. That is why she has moved to draw so many of my neighbours to her; depend upon it.’ His father had certainly possessed a taste for fine, sophisticated women, be they goblin or Ayliri. He could imagine it possible that he might have succumbed to the charms of a human lady, if she had been well-born, well-dressed and beautiful.
Drig exchanged a look with Bessie. ‘But, Gaustin—’ began Drig.
A fresh thought occurred to Grunewald. ‘If I could be in possession of one sibling without being aware of it, perhaps there are more! The county could be awash in my half-brethren, for all I know. Perhaps that, too, is to be revealed upon the morrow.’ The prospect did not displease him, even though it brought with it the threat of further challenges to his authority. He amused himself picturing these additional brothers and sisters that may prove to exist. Would they be people that he would like? But perhaps they would hate him, as his sister seemed to do. That thought depressed him again, and dissipated the happier flow of thoughts he had briefly enjoyed.
‘Your sister seems interested in the Adairs, in particular,’ said Bessie.
‘Mm. Perhaps her mother was an Adair.’ The thought was distasteful, but it made sense. That family was certainly well-born, and they were blessed with a great deal of beauty and grace. He could imagine his father, in a mood of particular loneliness, embarking upon an affair with an ancestor of Miss Elizabeth Adair.
It occurred to him that he still did not know his sister’s name. ‘Bear this in mind, baggage, when you speak with my sister,’ he advised. ‘She may let drop some hint in confirmation, if you are wily.’
‘Wily is within my power. And now you had best take yerself off, my Gent. She has been gone some little time, and may return any moment.’
Grunewald looked her over. He could not detect any signs of unease about her, but he was learning that it was also within her power to dissemble; she would not openly display any discomfort, and especially not to him.
‘I will return tomorrow night,’ he promised.
‘Ah! In another fine disguise, no doubt. I look forward to seein’ what manner of appearance you next come up wi’ for yerself.’
‘I can have no hope of fooling you, it seems, and that destroys all my pleasure in the prospect.’
She smiled. ‘I can pretend that my wits have gone to sleep, if it would make you happy.’
‘Very.’ He looked at Drig. ‘Off with you, Drig. Find out more about these blood sorcerers, if you can.’
Drig bowed and withdrew, with a parting smirk over his shoulder.
Grunewald approached Bessie and stood over her, studying her face. He touched her chin very gently, ignoring the way her brows rose quizzically under his attention. ‘I am grateful,’ he said. ‘Merely poor at expressing it.’
She inclined her head. ‘I know it, my Gent.’
He tried again. ‘You and Drig are achieving great things in my service, sour though I have been about it.’
‘And Derri. Don’t forget her.’
‘And Derri as well. I shall find a way to express my gratitude to you all, in due course.’
Such an offer was not lightly made, and rare with him; so he was at a loss to understand why her face clouded over and her brow creased into a frown.
‘I have said something wrong,’ he observed.
She looked away, still frowning. ‘In workin’ wi’ your sister, I am pretendin’ to be a person I don’t like. One with thought for nothin’ but reward, and later advantage. I had been comfortin’ meself wi’ the reflection that there is naught of that wi’ you. That I help you because… well, not for what I may later gain, anyhow. And now you are ruinin’ that.’
‘I never imagined you had any such motive.’ This was not entirely true, for he had harboured some such notions early in their acquaintance. But he had soon got over that idea. Bessie constantly surprised him, and one of the many ways in which she did so involved her total lack of greed. Oh, she took pleasure in luxury; she would hardly be human, or mortal, if she did not. But she showed no sign of covetousness, no desire to gather it about herself by any means at her disposal. And she had never angled for any reward from him, or any advantage whatsoever. That was partly why he had been so wholly unable to account for her determination to involve herself in his affairs, for he could not see what she gained by it save for adventure. Perhaps, for her, that was enough.
Bessie did not seem convinced by these words, for she sighed, and made a shrugging gesture, as though to dispense with the thoughts passing through her mind.
Grunewald tried for a joke. ‘I will be sure to treat you with the utmost callousness, if it will make you happy.’
She smiled crookedly at him, recognising the echo of her own earlier words. ‘Very,’ she said.
‘Then we will consider it agreed.’ He bowed before her, carried her hand to his lips and laid a brief kiss upon it. Before she could in any way react to this gesture he left the room, and soon afterwards, the house. He rode back to Somerdale in such a depth of thought, it did not occur to him until he arrived at the house that he had forgotten to restore his disguising Glamour.
Isabel was on the watch for him when he arrived back. He braced himself for a show of disapproval, or at least of concern; but to his dismay, she a
ppeared to be in a state of distress.
‘Oh, Grunewald!’ she cried as he came in the front door. She came to him at once, hands held out. He took them with a frown, lightly squeezing them with an attempt at reassurance that she did not seem to feel. She gazed up at him with the air of a person who expects to be roundly chastised, her large eyes luminous with guilt and unshed tears.
‘Good heavens, Isabel!’ he said with mounting alarm. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
Isabel bit her lip, and looked around as though to reassure herself that they were not observed. The hall was empty, but nonetheless she chose to lead him to the parlour and shut the door before she spoke. ‘There is something I have not told you,’ she began. ‘Or, indeed, anyone.’ She fell silent, frowning.
‘It is a matter of some importance, I collect,’ he prompted her. ‘Do not keep me long in suspense, I beg you.’
‘I am sorry. It is only, I am not certain that I was acting with sense in keeping the circumstance to myself.’
‘It is too late to worry about that now.’
‘So it is.’ She sank into a chair and stared at him. ‘You know that I went to considerable trouble to release Tal from the curse that bound him to his ferryboat.’
‘I recall it with clarity.’
‘Indeed. But I did not discover his name through any of my own efforts, or not precisely. All my endeavours failed, and I was at my wit’s end; I had no notion where next to search. Only, it emerged that my journey had not gone… unnoticed. Someone, whose identity I could not discover, had become aware of my search and was watching my progress. And this person knew the name I sought. It was offered to me, in exchange for a promise of future aid…’
Grunewald began to feel a sense of foreboding.
‘A voice spoke in my mind,’ Isabel said, with a visible effort at self-control. ‘I took the offer, of course; what else could I have done? I had no other means of releasing poor Tal from his slavery. At the time, it was easy to dismiss the prospect of the future payment as, in all likelihood, far off. I had no thought that I would be called upon so soon.’
Bessie Bell and the Goblin King Page 19
