Dora was still very sleepy when they arrived back at the townhouse, and she fell into bed almost immediately as a consequence. It did not even enter her mind to ask that she be woken early—but she was awoken, and somewhat before what some would term to be a decent hour for the morning after such a ball.
“Dora!” Vanessa hissed her name, shaking her awake. “Dora, you must wake up! The Lord Sorcier has come to call. He says he wishes to see you, but the butler is doing his very best to turn him away.”
Dora yawned slowly awake, pushing herself up and rubbing at her eyes. “Oh dear,” she said. “I don’t think that will end very well.” She levered herself off the bed, and went searching for her stockings. “You will have to help me dress in a hurry.”
She wasted little time, pulling on her cotton morning dress and heading for the stairs. A familiar voice filtered up from below.
“—too early to call?” Elias asked, his tone terse and annoyed. “The sun has been out for hours now. The rest of the civilized world is awake and doing useful things. You’re up and answering doors yourself, by god—I’m sure the lady can find her way out of bed without unduly straining herself.”
Dora could only imagine the poor butler’s consternation. He’d probably been instructed to force the Lord Sorcier to leave by any means necessary, but the man was unlikely to be cowed by simple pleasantries—which were, Dora assumed, the only weapon of note in the servant’s arsenal.
“In fact, the lady is not at home,” the butler stammered.
“Oh, is she?” Elias asked. His voice dripped with sardonic disbelief. “I see. No matter, then. I must be off shortly to investigate a plague, but I’ll return directly after I am finished with that, if the lady is not at home.”
A horrified silence ensued, as the butler considered the possibility of a plague-touched Lord Sorcier returning to the house later that afternoon.
“Perhaps you should check again with the lady of the house, and see if Miss Ettings might yet be found,” Elias said dryly. “She could check beneath the furniture, in case the lady is hiding.”
Dora headed further down the stairs. The doorway came into view, and she saw Elias leaning against the frame, looming over the butler in a subtly ominous manner. He was clearly dressed down for the duties he’d just mentioned, clad mostly in black and brown. His neckcloth was barely tied. Had Dora the ability to feel embarrassed, she might have felt it in that moment. I am not sure whether I should be embarrassed for him or embarrassed for myself, she thought. This is by far the least respectful call of which I have ever heard.
“Oh!” Dora said as she approached, pitching her voice audibly. “I didn’t realise you would be paying a visit this morning, my Lord Sorcier.”
Elias glanced over towards her with a grim scowl. “Miraculous!” he declared. “The lady has appeared from thin air.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Were you, in fact, hiding beneath the furniture, Miss Ettings?”
Dora smiled serenely at him. “Beneath the sofa,” she told him. “But now, here I am. How might I be of assistance?”
The scowl on his face deepened. A hint of amusement floated across Dora’s mind, as she realised he was steeling himself to say something most unpleasant. “I was hoping to continue our discussion from last evening,” Elias said. “Waiting for another of those frivolous affairs in order to speak with you did not suit me.”
Dora took a few steps closer to the doorway, clasping her hands in front of herself. “I see. You are a busy man, it seems, and I am very flattered.” And then, because she could not stop a strange, teasing impulse that had bubbled up within her, she added: “You should have sent flowers, however.”
Elias stared at her. Slowly, a kind of murderous intent flickered up behind his golden eyes. “Pardon?” he said, enunciating each syllable distinctly. “I am not certain that I heard you correctly, Miss Ettings.”
“My apologies,” Dora told him. “I am told that I mumble, on occasion. I said that you should have first sent flowers with your calling card, and then come to call... perhaps tomorrow, during the proper hours. That is the way of things. Mr Lowe told me that you are not always aware of societal expectations, and so I thought you might appreciate plain speaking.”
Elias drew himself up with a long, steadying breath. Dora wondered for a moment whether he might lose what little composure he had gathered. But after that moment, he controlled himself, and forced a sardonic smile. “I see. You will have to forgive my ineptness, Miss Ettings. I am obliged to you for your advice.”
Dora did not really mean to drive Elias off, however, given that he had come for her benefit. Since the butler was still staring at him aghast, and not looking in Dora’s direction, she gave Elias a very stately, serious sort of wink. “I would hate to inconvenience you, however. I hope that the countess will not despise me if I invite you in for some tea. I shall have to ask her, you understand, since I am currently her guest.”
“Of course,” Elias said dryly. He settled himself back against the door frame. “I will wait ever-so-patiently.”
Dora ventured further inside the house, inquiring for Lady Hayworth. The countess was not hard to find—she was in a dour sort of mood, as she had been informed of the Lord Sorcier’s presence at her door not a few minutes prior.
“The Lord Sorcier is calling, my Lady Hayworth,” Dora told her innocently, as though she had no idea that the woman was already aware. “I suppose I must invite him in for tea?”
Lady Hayworth gave her an incredulous look. “Surely you didn’t speak with him, Miss Ettings!” she said.
“Should I not have done?” Dora asked her. “My apologies. I was not certain what else to do.”
The countess pinched at her nose. “We shall not be rid of him now,” she murmured. “This is terrible. And his manners! I ought to turn him away regardless.” Still, the man’s reputation earned him a moment of hesitation, even from the formidable Lady Hayworth. “Yes, fine. Bring him in for tea. If we are fortunate, he shall become bored with you in short order. But it hardly matters, so long as you pursue Mr Lowe’s charity work with enthusiasm.”
Dora nodded dutifully. “I will see if I can dissuade the Lord Sorcier’s interest,” she said. “I will be most unobliging with him.” This, she thought, might incline the countess to overlook any lapses in politeness between them.
Lady Hayworth nodded and drew herself up. “I shall have to chaperone,” she said. “Do not worry, Dora. I am capable of handling a scoundrel like the Lord Sorcier.”
I am not certain that you are, Dora thought to herself, as they headed into the morning room and called for a servant to let Elias inside. But I do look forward to seeing you try.
That said, it was most problematic that the countess decided to sit so near to Dora. The woman was very nearly hovering over her as Elias entered the morning room, with another broad scowl resplendent on his delicate features. “Lady Hayworth,” he said shortly, by way of greeting. “How little you have changed since our last interactions.”
The countess smiled evenly. “And you as well, my Lord Sorcier,” she said. “Though one might have expected you would improve your manners, given enough exposure to the beau monde.”
The French term made Elias narrow his eyes, and Dora wondered whether the countess had learned of his abominable French. “I cross myself against the day that I might become a pleasant-mannered man, Lady Hayworth,” Elias responded acidly. “Pleasant-mannered people are simply the worst sort of people. Decent people become properly angry when presented with miserable injustice, but pleasant-mannered people never do.”
The countess arched one cool eyebrow. “We could of course entertain your proclivity towards crass political discourse, Lord Sorcier,” she said. “But I was under the impression that you had come today for a somewhat less miserable purpose.”
Elias blinked and glanced towards Dora. “Yes. Well.” He cleared his throat. “The lady and I have matters to discuss. But I see from your posture that you shall be hovering ov
er us the entire time.”
Given the blunt atmosphere in the room, the countess didn’t bother to disagree. “The young lady is under my roof, and I shall therefore see that she is properly chaperoned,” she replied.
Elias narrowed his eyes at her. He stalked towards the chair that was closest to Dora, and settled himself into it. “On the matter of divination,” he said to Dora, as though they might pick right back up where he had left off the evening previous. “I have dug a bit deeper into it, much as it has never been my preference.”
“Oh?” Dora asked him. “That is so kind of you. You didn’t have to go to such lengths to satisfy my fleeting curiosity.” She was not actually certain just why the Lord Sorcier thought that divination was relevant to her situation, but she thought it best nevertheless to give him an excuse for the discussion.
“Indeed,” Elias said. “It was even less enthusing than I remembered it to be. But it has its applications.” Dora saw for the first time that he had brought a leather bag with him, of the sort that a physician might carry. He opened it to extract a small silver hand mirror, which he offered out to her. “This is something akin to the mirror which you saw in John’s magic shop. The enchantments are actually quite simple, since they rely primarily on the capability of the person looking into the mirror.”
Dora took the mirror with a blink. “I wouldn’t know what capabilities I might have in that regard,” she said. “Certainly, I am not a magician, my Lord Sorcier.”
Elias settled back into his chair with a considering look. “Nevertheless,” he said. “I have humoured you, Miss Ettings. Now, humour me in return. What do you see when you look into that mirror?”
Dora glanced down at the reflection in the mirror’s surface. At first, she saw only herself—her rust-coloured hair was somewhat mussed, since she had prepared herself so hurriedly, and a few unfortunate freckles showed upon her nose. But in due time, the reflection faded to a yawning black, and Dora tilted her head at the mirror in her hands.
“You are not casting some sort of wicked spell on the girl, Lord Sorcier?” Lady Hayworth asked suspiciously. Her voice sounded suddenly far away, as though she were speaking from a distance.
“If I were, Lady Hayworth, to tell you so would make me an outright ninny,” Elias drawled. He sounded equally distant, and his low, melodious voice wavered strangely, as though it were a tuning fork. “But if you had even an ounce of magical knowledge, you would know that I hardly require a mirror in order to ensorcell a fragile young lady. In fact, I could do so from afar, as long as I possessed something that belonged to her.”
The black expanse within the mirror slowly pulled back. The Lord Sorcier’s face appeared within it—but she knew instantly that there was something different about him. There was a real and terrible fear on his handsome features, and his forehead was smeared with dried blood. Seeing that, Dora felt suddenly silly for ever having mistaken punch for blood—the real thing was much different to behold, and far more dreadful.
Elias was standing among many other men, upon the foot of a bridge. He was wearing a uniform, Dora thought, and it looked as though it had not been washed for some time. Still, his wild white-blond hair stood out among the other men, and the bright fire that danced between his fingers commanded attention. The men around him fired muskets, so that she couldn’t tell the difference between the smoke of the guns and the smoke of the flames. The Lord Sorcier had no musket—nor indeed did he require one, given the far more deadly weapon in his hands.
“...if I were a black magician, that is,” Elias said distantly, and his tone seemed hard now. “But I am not, Lady Hayworth. And if you intend to accuse me of such, you had best be prepared to repeat your words before the Prince Regent. It is primarily the court magician who stands between England and the dark arts. I cannot fulfill that duty if there are whispers that I abuse my magic.”
Dirt flew, and a sudden chaos came upon the line of men. At first, Dora lost sight of Elias entirely—but then she found him on the ground, thrown violently back by some concussive force. The fire in his hands had winked away, and far more blood now stained his uniform.
His mouth was open, and his face was agonized. It took Dora a moment to realise that he was screaming, since she heard no hint of the actual sound.
“I will retract that much, Lord Sorcier,” Lady Hayworth murmured reluctantly. “None in this household will gainsay your loyalty to England. Your lack of couth, on the other hand, is a matter of open record.”
Dora stared at the thrashing figure of the Lord Sorcier, unable to reconcile the sight with the man that had handed her the mirror. The chaos of the entire scene afflicted her badly; she knew that it would haunt her far more terribly than even the pile of miserable words she kept at the bottom of her mind. Is this the war? she thought. This is what the soldiers were doing off in France, not so very long ago.
“Fortunately, lack of couth has not yet been named a crime,” Elias said lightly. “Though I am sure Lord Hayworth might bring it up when the House of Lords next convenes. You should suggest it to him.”
Another soldier staggered towards the Lord Sorcier, clearly off-kilter himself. As he collapsed to his knees before Elias, Dora recognised Albert’s brown hair and currently-dirty features.
Men closed in around them in a tight panic. Dora saw them all shouting things, but she couldn’t tell the nature of their words. Albert, still dazed and bleeding himself, tore back the Lord Sorcier’s uniform. Beneath, Dora saw two hideous-looking injuries—one on his right arm, and one at his shoulder. The blood was awful, but far worse was the way in which his pale skin seemed to burn. It was this burning, she thought, that made him scream so painfully. But it surely could not have helped matters when Albert went digging into those injuries with his surgeon’s knife.
I ought to be sick, watching this, Dora thought to herself. But for once, she was glad to be devoid of most emotion. The awful scene in the mirror might well haunt her nightmares, but at least it did not make her shiver or cry.
Albert pried loose a bloody, jagged-looking piece of shrapnel from the injury in Elias’ shoulder. As he tossed it aside, the burning there lessened and faded away. The second jagged bit of metal was much harder to dig out, and Dora greatly wished that she could look away. But there was the peculiar sense that she wasn’t even properly in her body, and so she didn’t know quite how to turn her head.
Albert dug and dug, and the Lord Sorcier’s eyes rolled back in his head. He seemed in danger of fainting—but as Albert retrieved the other bit of shrapnel, he slapped the Lord Sorcier’s cheek and murmured something to him which forced the other man to focus.
Men fell around them—some merely injured, some glassy-eyed with death. But others reached down to haul Elias to his feet... and Dora was discomfited to see that hellish fire reappear between his hands.
Mercifully, the mirror now went black—the vision snapped away before she could see the results of his magical handiwork.
“Miss Ettings?” Elias asked. She glanced up at him sharply. It seemed wrong to her, suddenly, that he seemed so clean and relatively relaxed. But was he relaxed? She remembered now the way that he had jumped at that small brush across his shoulder, at the party. The fear on his face, she realised, had been a distant cousin to the frightful confusion he’d worn upon the battlefield.
Elias frowned at her. “You have seen something, then,” he said. There was a note of triumph in his voice which suggested he had confirmed some sort of theory.
“I did,” Dora agreed. A faint nausea churned in her stomach—but as usual, it failed to make its way into her voice. “I believe that I saw Mr Lowe save your life.”
The Lord Sorcier’s eyes widened a fraction at that, and Dora knew then that he had not anticipated she might see such an awful scene. “That is... interesting,” he said slowly. He looked genuinely troubled. “You have my apologies. That was... an unfortunate day.”
Dora chewed at her lip. She wanted to ask all manner of questions ab
out what she’d seen, but she knew that the countess was listening intently to every word they spoke. If Lady Hayworth thought that Elias was showing her such things, she would probably toss him out that instant. “I saw the past, then,” Dora observed, moving delicately past his apology. “How novel. I didn’t realise that was possible.”
“Possible,” Elias agreed. “But very unlikely. That is twice now that you have seen something, which means that the first time was not a fluke. You are particularly prone to divinations, Miss Ettings.”
“How preposterous,” Lady Hayworth muttered. “Miss Ettings is not a magician, my lord. We surely would have noticed by now.”
“I agree,” said Elias. “She is not. But the spell on this mirror was my doing, and not hers. She has merely the mindset necessary to reliably divine.” He smiled sharply. “Some itinerant dreamers are capable of divination, given the proper circumstances. Those who stumble into faerie often see fantastic visions as well, while they are on the other side. I surmise that setting even a single foot in faerie might offer such sights... though obviously, as Miss Ettings is sitting with us in this tea room, she is simply an unusually accomplished daydreamer.”
Dora frowned at him. The latter part had clearly been added for the benefit of Lady Hayworth. It was Dora’s connection to faerie that concerned the Lord Sorcier. One foot in faerie, she thought. But what did that mean? Both of her feet were quite firmly settled in England right now, on the floor of the morning room in Lady Hayworth’s townhouse.
“One hopes you did not come here to insult the young lady,” the countess said archly.
“I did not,” Elias said, and now he sounded thoughtful. He rose to his feet, and Dora realised that he had left his tea untouched. “In fact, I believe that I shall call upon her again.” His strange golden eyes fixed upon Dora, and she found herself tempted for the very first time to look away. Still, she forced herself to hold his gaze. “The lot of you do love to ride in Hyde Park, don’t you? I am busy for today and tomorrow, but I will bring a carriage for you around that time, two days from now.”
Half a Soul Page 7
