by Jeff Wheeler
The two girls walked arm in arm through the gardens, talking about everything in their hearts. Cettie had already given Sera a tour of the interior of the manor, and Sera’s little maid was unpacking their belongings, preparing for an extended stay. Cettie rather liked the young girl and her serious eyes.
“It is so peaceful here,” Sera sighed. “It may not be as posh as Pavenham Sky, but I feel like I can finally breathe again.” Turning to look at Cettie, she added, “you were so sweet to have written all those letters, Cettie. Each one is so precious because it came from you. It would have made the confinement so much easier to bear.”
“How did you manage to stay unbroken?” Cettie asked in wonderment. “You have changed so much, but the essence of who you were is still there.”
“‘It begins with a thought,’” Sera said with a grin, bumping into Cettie deliberately. “I made the best of a difficult time. But I hoped for something better. I fixed on that hope and on my determination to claw my way out of prison.”
They neared the gazebo and increased their pace until they reached it. After walking through the sizable grounds, they were ready for a rest.
“I do wish I could persuade you to join my household,” Sera said.
“Would you want to leave this place?” Cettie asked with a smile.
“No. But you must come and visit me.”
“I shall, and often.”
Sera gazed out at the beautiful afternoon sky. “In Lockhaven there are always sky ships fluttering about like so many butterflies. So busy. Fitzroy will grow to hate it, I’m afraid. But how we need him.” Her expression became graver. She cocked her head to one side. “Can I ask my old advocate Mr. Durrant to come see me here? I don’t want to impose.”
“Mr. Durrant? Of course. I didn’t know the two of you were still connected.”
“We haven’t been in touch. Not since my disgrace. He was cast out of Lockhaven and humiliated. But he was always a very capable advisor. A shrewd man. I need people like him more than ever. I plan to ask him to find me a decent house and keeper in the City. I don’t need my parents’ funds to pay for him anymore. I finally have my own resources. At last.”
They sat together in comfortable silence for a moment, looking out at the gardens, thinking through all the abrupt changes that had shaken their lives.
“I divined from your letter,” Cettie said, breaking the silence, “that you saw Mr. Skrelling before his death?”
“I did,” Sera answered. “He came to Pavenham Sky on a zephyr and without an appointment. There was a storm when he left, and they say his pilot lost control of the zephyr.” She looked away, suddenly unable to meet Cettie’s eyes. For a moment Cettie got the impression there was something Sera was conflicted about, something she wasn’t saying, but then her friend shook her head and added, “I’m the one who discovered his body on the beach.”
“How awful,” Cettie said with a groan. No wonder Sera seemed so out of sorts. “It’s strange timing too, because I also learned he went to Billerbeck Abbey. He may have stolen something from there. Something that is needed now.”
Sera wrinkled her nose. “He did like to skulk around for secrets, at least at Muirwood, but I can’t imagine him stealing. That’s strange. Well, if he did, then I’m sure it will be found.”
“It’s all very odd and disturbing.”
“Things were much simpler back at school, weren’t they? I’ve told you everything about Prince Trevon,” Sera said, giving her a look that meant she was about to pry. “I haven’t heard you mention the name of a certain young doctor. Or have your feelings changed? Is there someone else?”
“My feelings?” Cettie said, beginning to squirm inside. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Sera didn’t push, but she was looking at Cettie with such a tender smile that the words started rushing out.
“I’m tormented actually,” Cettie admitted. “I still love him. He is exactly the sort of man I wish to marry. But Anna loves him too. She always has. And I love her and don’t want to hurt her. Adam has written to us both since the war started, but he’s shared things with me that he hasn’t told the rest of the family. He gave me a book to keep for him—a book which I’ve gone and lost,” she added with a tone of despair. “And then there are our new neighbors.”
“The Patchetts,” Sera said, nodding.
Cettie bit her lip. “Joanna’s brother is a dragoon. He’s had his share of troubles and challenges, but he seems to be correcting them. He has helped our family so much recently. I hardly recognize Stephen anymore. You saw him at Father’s new manor—hasn’t he changed?”
“Very much so,” Sera agreed. “Less self-centered. More agreeable. Phinia hasn’t changed at all, though.”
Cettie laughed, enjoying Sera’s candor. “Well, we shouldn’t always expect miracles.”
Sera studied Cettie’s face closely. “And how do you feel about Mr. Patchett?”
“I admire him,” Cettie said, looking down. “He’s pleasant to talk to. He doesn’t care a fig about all of society’s fastidious rules. He’s brave, and while he can be sharp, he is also kindhearted. When his father died, he could not inherit the fortune directly because of some of his problems. His sister can’t inherit either since she didn’t pass the Maston Test. Their steward, Mr. Batewinch, is a decent man who holds the authority in trust.”
Sera reached out and stroked Cettie’s arm. “I see your struggle, and I don’t envy it. Mr. Patchett no doubt admires you for your strength and knows you’d be a good match for him. Anna probably wants you to marry him, which would remove you as competition for Adam Creigh. And you have just enough guilt to be the perfect martyr.”
That last part surprised Cettie. “What do you mean?”
Sera took Cettie’s hands and patted them. “You’ve always loved Adam. Even if you’ve only just admitted it to yourself. And I’ve always believed he returns your feelings. He’s served the Ministry of War well, even though he had a different plan for his future. And he may yet be called upon to sacrifice more for the empire.”
“In what way?”
“I shouldn’t be the one to say it. I’d rather leave the two of you to talk directly. But suffice it to say that he is still a man of honor and integrity. And he doesn’t love Anna. He loves you.”
Cettie tried to suppress the shivering in her heart. “He’s never told me.”
“Of course not; he’s too honorable! He’s been serving as a doctor in the thick of a war. No worthy man would declare himself under such circumstances. But that war is now over for a season, hopefully forever. Give him a chance. Then make your choice. Anna is beautiful and sweet and a rich heiress . . . and the unwed daughter of the prime minister. She will not struggle finding a husband.”
The comforting words soothed the disquiet in Cettie’s soul. She reached out and hugged her friend, grateful for this moment and the many more that would come. Everything felt more balanced now that Sera was back in her life. A preternatural awareness struck her mind as she sensed the approach of a zephyr and recognized it as the Patchetts’ sky ship.
“You flinched. What is it?” Sera asked.
“We have more guests,” Cettie said with a sad smile. “The Patchetts are coming.”
“Isn’t their ball tomorrow night?”
“Yes. I know they’ve been very busy in preparation.”
“Well, let’s go see this young beau together,” Sera said, hooking arms with her as they rose from the bench.
The guests had already been admitted into the house by the time they reached the docking yard. They headed to the sitting room, where Rand and Joanna were visiting with the family, all except for Father, who was still in Lockhaven. The mood in the room was cheerful and pleasant, and Lady Maren looked particularly pleased.
When Cettie and Sera entered, Rand immediately took notice. He was always attentive, but a strange look surfaced on his face when he saw Sera. His eyes crinkled with wariness—was that the emotion? It was diffic
ult to make out. He broke away from his sister and approached the two of them.
“If Phinia tells us one more thing about the new gown she bought for the ball,” he said in an undertone, “I might jump off Fog Willows and trust my chances.” He grinned at them both. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Fitzempress.”
“Thank you, Mr. Patchett.”
“Please call me Rand.”
Joanna was quick to join them. She greeted Sera with a familiar smile and gave her a small hug. “We’ve not seen each other in a while, but I do hope we gave you enough time to settle in. We came because of you, Sera.” Joanna then hugged Cettie next.
“You came because of Sera,” Rand pointed out. “I came because of Cettie.”
“Don’t be troublesome, Rand. You’ve been unfailingly polite lately. You mustn’t ruin it before the ball.”
“Very well, then I will ruin it at the ball,” he teased.
Joanna sighed and gave him a stern look. “Behave yourself, Brother. Now, Sera, we just learned you will be staying at Fog Willows for a time. The family was already invited to our ball at Gimmerton Sough. I wanted to personally invite you to join the festivities. We heard about what you did at Parliament Square. Everyone is going to be demanding your company. But we’d be overjoyed if you’d do us the honor of coming tomorrow night.”
“I will consider it, of course,” Sera replied with a nod. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“You are still coming?” Rand asked Cettie, putting his hand on her elbow.
His touch sent a jolt of feeling up her arm, and his abrupt familiarity startled her.
“Yes,” Cettie answered, feeling a little uncomfortable, especially after her conversation with Sera.
The rest of the afternoon would be spent in idle chatter, for which Cettie had little time or inclination, so when Sera said she would go to her room and rest awhile, Cettie took advantage of the opportunity to withdraw as well and walk her there.
“Are you going to the ball, then?” Cettie asked. “I was surprised you didn’t accept right away.”
Sera looked back down the hall, not gazing at anything in particular. She had a wary look on her face. “I don’t know.” She looked at Cettie next, her eyes serious. “It concerns me that they’re friends with Lady Corinne and her set. I’m still thinking about it.”
“Why should that matter?” Cettie asked, confused.
Sera’s look was enigmatic. “It does.”
The servants had transformed Gimmerton Sough in the weeks preceding the Patchetts’ ball. To Cettie it felt as if time had wound itself backward. As she entered the ballroom, festive and lavishly decorated, she could hear the distinctive loud guffaws of Sir Jordan Harding—now Vice Admiral Harding—and it felt like things were back to the way they once were. It must have been strange for the Hardings to return to their old home in such a manner, but Joanna was true to her word and had invited them regardless.
Sera had also chosen to come, her decision made to be close to her friend and to be on hand if needed. Several of the young women she’d met at Pavenham Sky were in attendance, but their attitudes toward her seemed to have transformed overnight. Cettie was surprised when so many came up and reintroduced themselves, speaking courteously and praising Sera’s hair and the cut of her gown.
After they left, Sera looked at Cettie with raised eyebrows. “See what I mean? I don’t trust any of them.”
Servants carried trays arrayed with small silver goblets, and lovely music streamed in from the Leerings.
One of the servants came and stood before Cettie and didn’t leave when she waved him away.
“Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me,” Joses said with a sigh.
“Joses!” Cettie said with a gasp. “I didn’t. I’m so sorry.”
“We all look the same in these matching coats,” he said, wagging his elbows. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is the emperor’s daughter,” Cettie said, gesturing to Sera, who smiled sweetly.
Joses chuckled as if it were a joke, but he stopped himself before he could make a quip. “Oh! Miss Fitzempress! I-I’m . . . I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”
“That happens a lot,” Sera said with a look of ease. “I’m very short.”
Cettie smiled at the look on Joses’s flummoxed face. He bowed to her friend, as if trying to remember the appropriate protocol when dealing with royalty, and then backed away. But he came around behind Cettie and pitched his voice low. “Ahem. He’s going to propose tonight. He’s been practicing the speech all afternoon.”
Cettie looked at Joses in horror, but he clearly thought he’d delivered good news because he simply winked and walked away with his tray. Instead, feelings of worry and painful anticipation flooded her heart.
Sera’s brow furrowed. “You’ve gone pale. Are you feeling well?”
The news shook Cettie to her core. She had not expected something like this to happen so soon. Was this why Rand had come to visit them the day before?
“I might need to sit down.”
“Come this way.”
As they walked toward some stuffed chairs, the sound of “Sky Ship’s Cook” started up, causing some clapping and cheering from among the guests. Of course Rand had chosen it. It was the first song they had danced together.
Before they could make it to their seats, Stephen and Rand intercepted them. Stephen was wearing one of his finest suits. He’d gone to great lengths in his grooming and attire. Rand looked freshly shaved, his smile sincere and tender . . . but he swallowed with nervousness.
“Miss Fitzempress,” Stephen said with a bow and flourish. “If you’d be so kind to dance with me?”
Rand didn’t make an offer. He merely held out his hand. A bare hand.
Both girls accepted—what else could they do?—and the ballroom around them filled with dancers and partners. Cettie had never been invited to dance in the first set before.
“I love your dress,” Rand said with a slight bow as they began to perform the familiar steps. “So much less formal than all of the others. It suits you.”
“Thank you,” she said shyly.
Her nerves felt like bolting horses. But as she danced with him, his touch brought her an overwhelming sensation of peacefulness, of being comfortable in his presence. She wasn’t trying to coax her feelings into something more, but it was happening anyway. There was something in the music . . . it felt like the Mysteries were at work in the room, and not just in the form of the music.
When the song finished, he bowed to her, and then he and Stephen left, which surprised her. At the previous ball, he had danced with her multiple times. As the next song began, she saw that he had invited Lady Maren for a dance, and her heart melted even more.
“He’s very charming,” Sera said at her side. “There’s something familiar about him. I can’t make it out, though.”
The song after that, he danced with Anna. She noticed they were talking as they danced, and Anna’s smile looked like a beam of sunshine. Suddenly a bolt of hot jealousy stabbed into Cettie’s heart. It was so overpowering and raw that she had to turn away to stop looking at them. Her emotions were all off-kilter, barely recognizable as her own.
“You’re distressed,” Sera said. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Do you need some air?”
“No, we haven’t been here that long. I’m just not feeling myself.” She looked back at the dancers, saw Rand and Anna together again, and again was struck by a feeling of jealousy that made her want to hurt her sister.
“Come sit down,” Sera offered, taking her by the arm and bringing her to some stuffed chairs. They seated themselves, and Sera looked at her in concern. “What’s wrong, Cettie?”
Tears pricked Cettie’s eyes. “Look at me. I’m crying.”
“I know. It’s not like you.”
“When Joses came by, he whispered to me that Rand was going to . . . to propose tonight.”
/> Sera nodded sagely. “Ah.”
“And I’m not used to this,” Cettie said, looking around. “Being invited. Being wanted. At Muirwood I was treated like a pariah. But it’s all changing.”
Sera squeezed her hand. “You’ve been persecuted for so long you can’t imagine anything else. But you are an amazing woman, Cettie. And it’s a sign of Mr. Patchett’s good judgment that he wants you. You’d make him a better man.” She shook her head slowly. “But even if he asks, you do not have to say yes. You have a choice. Choose with your heart.”
Cettie despaired. “It will hurt either way.”
Sera smiled sadly. “Probably.”
They sat together until the song ended and another song began. “Genny’s Market.” It was Mother and Father’s favorite, and she’d always been fond of it too. It was so romantic and slow and included a part where you gazed into the eyes of your partner.
And there was Rand, marching up to fetch her from the sidelines. He looked vulnerable, as if he felt unsure of himself. His fists were clenched in nervousness. But he arrived, bowed, and extended his hand to her again.
“Will you dance with me again?”
Cettie both wanted to and didn’t want to. The feelings of jealousy were gone. He was asking her now. He wanted to be with her, not Anna.
“Yes,” she answered huskily.
She took his proffered hand, and they walked back to the line and took their positions. She knew this number so well it was easy to surrender to the music.
“I’m sorry I’m so quiet,” he muttered. “There has been a lot on my mind this evening.”
I know, she wanted to say. “Really?”
They began the steps, flowing and gliding in rhythm together.
“Yes. It’s quite distracting. Is Sera enjoying herself?”
Cettie wondered at his familiar use of her name, but then again, he was never one for formalities.
“Yes. The decorations are so lovely. Thank you for inviting the Hardings.”
