Dora looked back down to keep track of her steps until they’d rounded the bench and settled safely onto it. “My apologies,” she said, as Elias set the lantern onto the fountain in front of them and sat back down beside her.
Elias glanced sideways at her. There was a newly troubled expression on his face, and Dora pursed her lips. “You should simply say whatever you are worried about,” she told him. “I will hardly mind it, either way.”
Elias sighed, and reached up to run his fingers back through his messy hair. “I am not entirely certain myself,” he admitted. “I think... I am worried that you think terrible things of me. And perhaps those things are right. I do not know anymore.”
Dora considered him with faint surprise. “I do not think terrible things of you,” she said. “Though I am surprised that my opinion should worry you at all, you may safely cease any apprehension on that score.”
Elias rubbed at his jaw uncomfortably. “Nevertheless, I... feel the need to tell you certain things. I have never told another soul about them, but perhaps they have begun to eat at me too much.”
Dora raised a brow at him. “If you insist on telling me tonight,” she said, “then you will have only told half a soul. Perhaps that shall make it easier.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face at that. “Perhaps. I suspect other reasons to be at play, however.” Before Dora could ask him what he meant by that, he cleared his throat. “I am... not a magician, Dora. Or rather, I am not just a magician.” His eyes flickered towards her chest, where the pair of scissors would normally lay—but Dora had taken them out and put them beneath her pillow, and they were not there. Elias frowned at their absence, but he did not otherwise remark on the circumstance. “I was born in faerie. Or else... perhaps the faerie that called me his son stole me before I could remember. I do not know exactly what I am, except that I am surely not all human, and surely not all faerie.”
Dora considered this seriously. The revelation ought to have frightened her, she thought, given how much of her life had been altered by just one encounter with a faerie. But she could not bring herself to be even distantly afraid of Elias at this point. “This is why people say that your magic is impossible,” she said slowly. “Because you are really capable of things similar to Lord Hollowvale.” Dora paused. “But you and he are nothing alike, Elias. He was quite evil. He had no concept of mercy or pity. I cannot imagine him ever becoming anguished over another person’s suffering.”
Elias frowned at this. “But that is part of why I left,” he said. “The faeries there are all so cruel and thoughtless. I do not know that they mean to be, but it is what they are.” He looked away from Dora uncomfortably. “I had hoped that England would be better. But it is so much worse, in some ways. At least faeries have no sense of their own evil—but humans know quite what they are about, and this is still how they choose to arrange things.”
“But if you grew up in faerie,” Dora asked him, “then how did you end up in the war? You must not have had concept of yourself as an Englishman, so why go fight the French?”
Elias smiled bitterly. “I was still young when I left faerie,” he said. “I had no concept of England at all before I got here. I ended up in the workhouses, in fact. Everyone was starving because of the taxes from the war. I might have been an exception, given how well I could steal what I needed. But I heard so many people say that all this misery was because of the French—that they were simply evil, causing every awful thing that fell upon the English. I didn’t know what lies were yet, since faeries cannot lie. I believed that if I vanquished the French, then perhaps everything would be better.”
Dora sighed heavily. “Oh dear,” she murmured. “I suppose I can see how all of that worked out.”
“The French were never the problem,” Elias agreed. “Or at least, they were not the whole of it. When I came back and got my title, I suddenly had access to an entirely different level of society. I thought that all of England had suffered from the French. But that was not true. The aristocrats never failed to thrive—and still, they continue to thrive. They are the native faeries of England, wreaking havoc where they go and never failing to think worlds of themselves.”
Dora considered that for a long moment. “I am one of them,” she said. It was not a complaint, but an observation.
Elias glanced over at her. “You are,” he said. “And now, so am I. I must stop thinking of myself apart from everyone else, as though I am watching you all make mistakes. I have made mistakes as well.” He ran his fingers back through his hair. “You and Albert and his family give me hope, Dora. Perhaps things will not change as a whole, but at least I have finally found something better than the world with which I started.”
Elias dropped his arm again—but his hand came to rest upon Dora’s, instead of simply at his side. She blinked down at the unexpected contact. Both their hands were bare, and there was something instantly intimate about the gesture as a result. Dora had rarely had occasion to compare a man’s hand to hers, but as Elias tangled their fingers, she could not help but notice how small she was compared to him. It was comforting, rather than oppressive.
Dora tightened her fingers in return. The note of gratitude in his voice made her feel off-balance. She was warm and fluttering again, and simultaneously worried that she did not quite deserve the compliment. I have found nothing of use at the workhouses so far, she thought. He will be every bit as frustrated tomorrow as he has been these last few days.
“If you give me the treatise before you leave,” Dora said suddenly. “I will translate it tomorrow.”
Elias shot her a sideways glance. “And you’ll find time for that in between the workhouses and the ball you’re slated to attend?” he asked. There was a gentle bemusement in his voice.
“I will find the time,” Dora told him confidently.
Those golden eyes focussed on her. For the second time since Dora had met him, Elias considered her so closely that she felt his gaze pierce beneath her skin.
“...I shall leave it with you, then,” he said finally.
Elias pulled his hand free of hers—and at first, Dora felt a low, empty disappointment. But shortly thereafter, his arm closed around her shoulders, pulling her gently into his side.
The heat of his body soaked into her where they touched, sinking into her body with a hazy bliss. The ethereal blue lantern light flickered across his features as he looked down at her, but she could not make much of his expression. It was more peaceful than most attitudes she had seen upon his face, but there was a hint of mild confusion mixed in as well.
“Elias?” Dora asked calmly. “What are you doing?”
His brow knitted. For a moment, she thought: he doesn’t know. But Elias cleared his throat quietly and looked away again. “You have no sense of the cold, do you? I remember you saying as much. Your clothing is damp. You really will catch sick this way.”
Dora smiled at that. The cold really didn’t bother her... but she couldn’t have ignored his warmth, even if she had tried. She curled in closer towards him, leaning her cheek against his chest. There was that faint scent of myrrh again—trapped in his shirt, even perfuming his skin.
They didn’t speak again for quite some time. It didn’t feel quite necessary. Instead, Dora let her mind drift away as she listened to the steady beating of his heart.
He might well be a faerie, or part of one, she thought. But his heart sounds just the same as anyone else’s.
Eventually, the lantern began to flicker unsteadily, and Elias sighed in annoyance. “I should help you back before we both become interesting to look at again,” he murmured. Slowly, he released his grip on her shoulders. This time, when his heat departed, Dora thought she must have felt the cold—because the absence of him made her feel as though something crucial was missing.
He took her arm again and brought her back inside, up the stairs to her room. Dora found herself thinking of ways to hold him longer—topics of conversation which might seem too import
ant to put off—but nothing came to mind. Instead, Elias released her arm, and smiled in a way that suggested he’d been thinking something similar.
“Goodnight, Dora,” he said softly. “Do have sweet dreams.”
Dora found it difficult to break his gaze. “And... you as well,” she said, though the words felt lame and insufficient. I am sure that I should have said something else, she thought uncertainly. That did not feel adequate. A normal person might have known what to say.
Elias waited patiently—and Dora realised belatedly that she was supposed to go into her room. She turned to slip inside, aware of his eyes on her back.
As Dora burrowed underneath the covers of her bed, she closed her eyes and tried to think of sweet things to dream about. Strangely, her mind supplied only the warmth of Elias’ hand and the sweet smell of myrrh.
Chapter 12
Whatever had been told to Lady Hayworth regarding the hour of their return, they did not actually head back to Hayworth House the moment that they woke up. Instead, Lady Carroway insisted on having them downstairs for breakfast, where they lingered quite some time. Given the informal breakfast seating, perhaps it should not have surprised that Albert’s brother Edward had found his way over towards Vanessa—but this effectively blocked Dora from any substantial conversation with her cousin. She searched surreptitiously for Elias instead, but to her disappointment, he was nowhere to be found at all.
Albert had the treatise out before him, however, which suggested that Elias had already left. He was currently scribbling notes on a separate bit of parchment nearby while he took his coffee. To Dora’s surprise, Miss Jennings had settled herself next to Albert; the two of them occasionally spoke pleasantly to one another while Albert worked. Dora headed towards them both, settling herself on Albert’s other side.
“Are you very far yet?” Dora asked him.
“Only a few pages in,” Albert said, stifling a yawn. “I haven’t been up long. Elias said you had volunteered to handle the rest, but I thought it best to start the matter, at least.”
Dora searched for any hint of acrimony in his voice or features as he spoke, but she could not find any. She smiled, feeling vaguely relieved. Since Miss Jennings was present, she phrased her next question as generally as possible. “He did apologise properly, then?”
Albert chuckled on his next yawn, which made it stutter. “Profusely,” he managed. “Poor man. What did you say to him, Miss Ettings?”
Dora looked down at her plate, as though she were very interested in the food there. “He would have apologised either way,” she replied, rather than answer the question. “Eventually.”
“Oh, I trust that,” Albert said. “If nothing else, he would have eventually remembered how awful his French is, and how little he wishes to learn it better.” He shot Dora an interested look. “I was planning on continuing to the workhouses today. I don’t normally go so often, but with all circumstances considered...” Albert trailed off, far too polite to mention their deadline. He shook his head. “Will you still be joining me, or will you be staying in to finish with the treatise?”
Dora frowned. “I will come with you,” she said. “I expect I will cry off sick from the ball this evening, and finish the treatise then.”
“Oh, please don’t do so,” Miss Jennings said. “I should be fine to ask a few questions without you, Miss Ettings.”
Albert shot the chaperone a bewildered look. “If you have no one to chaperone, Miss Jennings, I must assume that you will not be paid for your time.”
Miss Jennings shot him an offended look. “If Miss Ettings intends to spend the day indoors, then I shall not be otherwise occupied today. I do not think it so outrageous that I should wish to see this matter through to the end, given the circumstances.”
Dora straightened in her chair. “Miss Jennings?” she asked. “Did you happen to speak with Lady Carroway this morning, by any chance?”
The ex-governess flushed at that. “Yes, I did,” she said. “I walked over from Hayworth House when I was told you could be found here, since I thought it likely you would be out again with Mr Lowe today. Lady Carroway was kind enough to invite me to breakfast. She really ought not have, but it was very gracious of her.”
Dora suspected that Lady Carroway had not communicated anything of her intentions to sponsor another orphanage, given the shyness with which Miss Jennings spoke of her. Still, Dora expected that the ex-governess must have impressed, given what she had seen of her for the last few days.
“Well, I will be glad for the help,” Albert admitted. “I am not as accomplished at getting the children to speak to me. I expect the copious number of needles and recommendations for terrible-tasting medicine do not help my case.”
“I will go as well,” Vanessa said, from Dora’s other side. The three already at the table turned to blink at her—for she had snuck up on them most effectively, though probably not on purpose. “Dora has told me the sort of questions she has been asking with Miss Jennings. I believe I can stand in for her.” Dora’s cousin paused, with an uncertain look towards Albert. “If you are all right with having me along, that is.”
Dora stared at Vanessa. Edward is showing interest, she thought. Auntie Frances will not like Vanessa running off with Albert like this. It’s sure to start a row with her.
Vanessa flushed beneath Dora’s gaze and looked towards the floor.
“I have ceased to question the fortitude of the young ladies in Miss Ettings’ company,” Albert told Vanessa ruefully. “If you are certain that you can handle it, I will bring you along, and Miss Jennings will have someone to chaperone after all.”
“I am not certain,” Vanessa admitted. “But it is important to Dora, and so I will do my very best.”
Albert smiled at that. “Well, one cannot fault your reasons,” he said. “I will finish my coffee, and then we may leave.”
Auntie Frances was not well-pleased with this situation. Not long after, Dora saw as Vanessa’s mother dragged her out into the hallway with an angry, pinched expression on her face which she normally reserved for Dora. Vanessa came back in a few minutes later, looking flushed and upset. Still, she made her way over to Albert with determination and took Miss Jennings by the arm.
Dora felt a hint of guilt at this—but it was mostly overshadowed with an odd sort of relief. Just the thought that Vanessa might see and understand the same awful things that Dora had seen offered her comfort.
“It’s past time we were leaving, Dora,” Auntie Frances snapped, as she marched back inside herself. The dark expression on her face promised that her argument with Vanessa was far from settled. “We wouldn’t wish to overstay our welcome.”
Dora quickly snatched up the treatise on the table, along with its partial translation. “And what is that?” Auntie Frances asked her suspiciously.
“Just a bit of French poetry,” Dora lied. “Lady Carroway loaned it to me from her library.”
Thankfully, Auntie Frances did not look nearly close enough at the small book to catch any discrepancies in Dora’s story. She grabbed Dora by her other arm, pulling her towards the door. They paused only to thank Lady Carroway for her hospitality before Auntie Frances had her in the carriage and on the way back to Hayworth House.
“You have had something to do with this silly behaviour from Vanessa,” Auntie Frances said, as soon as they were in the carriage. “I know that you have.”
Dora gave her aunt a blank look in return. She did, of course, have everything to do with Vanessa’s behaviour this morning—but there were advantages, sometimes, to having only half a soul. “I do not know how I might have done,” Dora said. “But I suppose that it is possible.”
“The next Viscount of Carroway has just started setting his attentions upon her!” Auntie Frances hissed. “And now she is off in your place with his crippled brother, instead of with him!”
A cold, dull anger grew in Dora’s stomach. Elias had once called Albert a cripple in front of her, but the word had not h
ad such nasty connotations when he had said it. The way that her aunt said the word, it sounded dirty and shameful.
“Mr Lowe became as he is while protecting the rest of us off in France,” Dora told her. She said it with perfect evenness, though she would have preferred otherwise. “He is a very good and charitable man. And if Vanessa did wish to marry him instead of his brother, I believe that he would treat her very well.”
A crack sounded in Dora’s ears. Her vision faltered. It took her a moment to realise that her aunt had struck her across the face. She blinked a few times, reaching up to press her palm against her cheek. The pain felt numb and distant—but the emotion behind the gesture dug more deeply into her, clenching itself slowly around her heart.
“Neither of you girls have thought for a single moment about me, from the moment we first set foot in London,” Auntie Frances cried, her face red and miserable. “You have no conception of what is at stake for me. If Lord Lockheed should die before me, his title will pass, and I will have only a pitiful income to my name! I shall be forced to survive on the generosity of my daughter’s husband. Where will I live, Dora? Surely not with some physician! Perhaps that life will suffice for you, but you are barely a person at all!”
Dora did not react. It had occurred to her that she did not need to react. Rather, she could sit there like the doll that she was, and let the awful moment wash over her without consequence.
She turned her eyes to the window of the carriage, thinking of Auntie Frances among the workhouses, tending to the children. It was such a dramatically unlikely vision that she managed a faint smile over it.
“—incapable even of paying attention for a single moment!” Auntie Frances raged. “It is no wonder Mr Lowe has yet to offer for you, you puppet!”
He will not offer, Dora thought. The thought satisfied her somewhat in the face of Auntie Frances’ fury, but it also felt hollow and tired. No one will offer.
Half a Soul Page 15
