The Secrets of Shadows

by Waite, Tabetha

  “Your mistress is englez, is she not?”

  Charlotte sniffed. “Yes, but—”

  His face darkened. “We don’t assist the English.”

  “Oh, please, sir! You canna leave us! What if we have t’ stay out here all night? I dinna know what sort of creatures prowl these woods.”

  “That’s not our problem, but yours,” he said coldly.

  “Vano, stop being such a pain in the ass,” the first man dared to say. “What harm can two women do?”

  Vano spun on him. “You can speak of danger when Vadoma’s bones are still smoldering but miles away?” He sniffed. “They are not allowed in the camp.”

  Charlotte’s sniffles quickly became wails. “I shall get dismissed fer this, I know it! I’m sorry, mistress. I’ve failed ye. I shall be sent back t’ th’ workhouse fer sure!”

  “Dammit, Vano!” The second man dismounted, and wrenched open the door. “You’re not thinking clearly.” He lowered his voice. “You’re still wracked with grief over your bunica’s death, but you have to remember that her loss was felt by many. Everyone in that camp has felt her absence. I carry my grief in my heart, so what do you think she would say about turning these women away?”

  Vano glared at the man before him. Distrust was carved into every hard line of his face. “Gah!” He threw up his hand. “If they cause any more unrest within the camp it is on your heads. Dare to trust them if you will, but if it goes astray, you will become outsiders to us!”

  With that, he spurned his mount forward.

  Once he was gone, the gypsy reached for the distraught Charlotte, whose tears had dried quite rapidly now that he was assisting her down from the coach. “Don’t mind Vano. His bark is worse than his bite most days.” He offered a bow, his white teeth gleaming in his darkly tanned skin, along with the large gold hoop in his ear. “My name is Danior, and this is my brother, Motshan.”

  “Thank ye so much. Ye are both such gallant knights,” Charlotte gushed.

  Cosette stepped to the ground with Danior’s help. “We appreciate your assistance,” she said politely.

  As Danior and Motshan offered them their mounts, they held on to the reins and walked with them to the camp.

  Cosette couldn’t resist a glance up at the sky where the black crow circled overhead. I will see you soon, she promised.

  A firm caw was her reply as he soared into the distance.

  Chapter 24

  Vano didn’t even acknowledge their presence when they rode into view—unless you could count his muttering as he stalked off and disappeared into a nearby wagon. He shut the curtain with a finality that caused Cosette to sigh in relief. It would be much easier to complete their mission if that distrusting glare was out of sight.

  As they dismounted, Motshan tied up the horses while Danior addressed the assembled group. There were about twenty-five, all in varying ages, seated on logs around a modest fire in the center. They had dark skin and wore some sort of adornment, either in their ears, around their neck, or on their arms. Most of the women wore bright-colored dresses and scarves that covered their hair. Many had tiny bells sewn into the fabric that caused them to tinkle when they moved. The children were the same. The men wore bright sashes around their waists, but the rest of their attire was more subdued, browns, and darker shades the most popular.

  If Cosette hadn’t been so anxious to find the tablet, she would have allowed a moment of fascination for these people. For years they had been feared, their way of life sneered at and demeaned, but as they greeted Cosette and Charlotte, she realized that they were much more friendly and demure than they were portrayed. When she compared them to the wealthy and high-standing men of the Order, they were practically saints.

  “I dinna see any black stallion, so they might have already bartered it,” Charlotte whispered to Cosette, as they sat together. “But they likely still have th’ satchel. Ye keep them distracted an’ I’ll go look fer it.”

  Cosette nodded. She wasn’t sure how she might manage to do that, but she would surely think of something.

  Charlotte stood, chatting and smiling among the assembled, but Cosette noticed that she was slowly making her way to the periphery of the group. Minutes later, she glanced up to find that she had vanished into the darkness. She sent up a silent prayer that the task ahead wouldn’t be too arduous. Cosette didn’t wish to abuse the hospitality of these people any more than she needed to. She felt a sick sense of betrayal as it was.

  Danior sat down beside Cosette. “I’ve sent my brother back to check on your carriage. He’ll stay there to wait for your coachman and keep an eye on your trunks.”

  “You’re too kind,” Cosette murmured. She reached into her reticule and pulled out a gold sovereign, pressing the coin into his palm.

  “Payment isn’t necessary.”

  He tried to give it back to her, but she shook her head. “Please. Take it.” Perhaps it will help to ease my conscious for deceiving you, she added silently.

  He tucked it into the sash at his waist with a wink. “I could never deny a pretty lady.”

  Cosette offered a demure smile. Danior was too charming by half. With that boyish grin and that devilish gold hoop in his ear glinting in the firelight, she bet that he’d broken several hearts in the course of his lifetime.

  He glanced around. “Where did your equally delightful ladies’ maid run off to?”

  Cosette shrugged. “I think she went to try and find a private place to . . . occupy.”

  “Ah.” Understanding dawned on his handsome, dark face. “She should have such luck. The men of the camp are like hawks when it comes to protecting our fair ladies. We have scouts monitoring the woods for danger at all times.”

  Cosette tried not to let her anxiety show at that news. Instead, she asked, “So tell me, what—”

  “Thief!” The loud snarl split the air with a fiery rage.

  Vano appeared around the side of his wagon with Charlotte in his firm grasp. But it was what she was clutching against her chest that had Cosette holding her breath.

  The tablet.

  Danior rolled his eyes at Cosette as he stood and addressed Vano. “Come now, brother, there is surely a reasonable—”

  “Yes, there is,” the other gypsy hissed. “You brought two serpents dressed as sheep into our midst.” He shoved Charlotte to her knees. “This one was in my wagon just now, rummaging around. She made the mistake of thinking that I had left.” He withdrew a sharp knife from the back of his trousers and set the shining metal blade underneath Charlotte’s chin, causing her to suck in a breath. There were no theatrics shining in those green eyes now. It was pure fear. “I should spill your blood, traitor! You have dishonored our trust.”

  Cosette walked forward. “Please.” She held out her hands. “I admit it, we lied to you. And I apologize for invading your camp like we have, but you have to believe that we meant no harm to your people. We only needed the tablet.”

  Vano looked up at her with a sharp, narrowed glare. He didn’t lower the knife. “The last time someone came into this camp, englez,” he said with quiet, but lethal intent. “My bunica was murdered. You don’t think I should just end it now before it begins, before I have to see someone else I care about die?”

  Cosette knew she would have to tread very carefully here. She reached up and removed the pin from her bonnet. “I understand your suffering. You think we are the enemy, but we’re not that dissimilar.” She removed her bonnet and tossed it aside. She started on the pins holding up her mass of hair while she talked. “I was left on the steps of an orphanage in Paris when I was an infant. For years I was criticized for being different from the other children. You see I suffered from these strange blackouts. Everyone thought I was a witch. But unlike you I had no family.”

  As she removed the last pin, letting
her dark hair fall free about her shoulders, Vano sneered, “Do you think I shall forgive your actions because of such a story? Your heritage holds no water here.”

  Cosette went on with her story, as if he hadn’t even spoken. She started to remove her gown. “After I left the orphanage, I came to England, hoping for a better life. Does that not show how we are alike? My path took me to a desolate workhouse where I remained for seven years. I worked as a seamstress in my spare time, making fine dresses for ladies of quality.” She tossed aside the elegant silk, and began to untie her panniers. “It was not the life I had envisioned for myself, but I thought I had no other choice, that I wasn’t . . . good enough.”

  She finally stood before Vano and the rest of the camp clad only in her shift, stays and petticoat. “What you don’t know is that I was wrong. Even if my parentage may always be in question, or I didn’t come from a notable family, the point is that we can all rise from our unwelcome circumstances to become something more worthy. I stand here before you without any adornments, free of pretense to speak honestly, freely, and say that the only way I can hope to achieve my future happiness is that tablet. Without it, I can’t free this curse that has been brought upon me.” She swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat. “I know that you are not heartless, Vano. I know that you loved your grandmother. I also know that you are hurting, but so am I. Shall you condemn me to a life spent in the shadows in spite of your grief? Or will you let us have the tablet and set me free?”

  The entire camp seemed to hold their breath as they waited for Vano’s reply. After an indeterminate time, he removed the knife from Charlotte. He gave a curse and ran an irritable hand through his dark hair. “You are as manipulative as my Vadoma. It is only to honor her memory that I allow this.” His dark eyes were piercing in their intensity as he glared at her. “Traitors are not viewed highly in our camp. Do not return.”

  Charlotte scrambled to her feet, and ran to Cosette. “Damn me,” she muttered. “That man is more frightenin’ than th’ barkeep at Th’ Lion’s Share.”

  “Let’s go,” Cosette uttered fiercely. She grabbed Charlotte’s hand and turned around—to find Danior standing in their path. He rubbed his chin. “I should be upset with you both, but for some odd reason, I’m not.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cosette said, and she meant it. Charlotte nodded her agreement.

  He sighed. “Come on. At least I can offer you a ride back to your coach, though I shouldn’t grant you any favors. God knows Vano will never let me live this down.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Cosette and Charlotte rode together as Danior led their mount back to the carriage. When they arrived, Quinn was there, the horse he’d led away tied back in place.

  Quinn started to bring a musket up to his shoulder, but Charlotte held up a hand. “No! Hold yer fire! We have th’ tablet.”

  She slid down to the ground, and Cosette followed. “Where is Motshan?” Cosette asked, knowing that Danior had sent his brother back here.

  About that time a muffled sound came from the interior of the coach, along with a sound that seemed suspiciously like a kick. Cosette rushed to open the door to find the gypsy tied up inside.

  She was surprised to hear Danior laugh richly behind her. “Would you look at that? My fearsome brother trussed up like a pheasant.”

  The glare Motshan shot his brother was one worthy of murder. She had no doubt that once they made it back to camp there would be a firm exchange of words—and maybe even fisticuffs.

  Cosette untied his wrists, but it was Motshan himself who ripped out the gag in his mouth. He stormed off without a single word.

  Cosette climbed inside the coach, eager to return to Shadowlawn. Charlotte joined her a moment later, but before the door slammed shut, Danior blew them both a kiss. “La revedere, ladies. Perhaps our paths will cross again someday.”

  He shut the door and the coach jerked into motion.

  A short distance away, the carriage stopped and Davien joined them. Cosette instantly went into his waiting arms. “We got it,” she whispered.

  “I know.” He brushed a gentle hand down her hair. “I was watching from the trees. I was about to intercede when you started to unpin your bonnet, and then I became as entranced as the rest of the assembled, so I waited.”

  “I’m relieved it worked,” Cosette sighed. She leaned her head into the crook of Davien’s arm. “I don’t want to do anything like that again.”

  “Agreed,” Davien said grimly.

  Charlotte set the tablet on the seat beside her. “At least it wasn’t fer naught.”

  “Indeed,” Blackburn agreed. “The next thing we need is to locate your friend the seer.”

  “I know where she is,” Charlotte returned. “I wouldna have suggested it if I hadn’t.”

  Cosette looked up at the duke’s strong, chiseled jawline. “I don’t care to search London in my underclothes, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay at Shadowlawn until you return.”

  She could tell by the way Davien’s eyes darkened that he didn’t care for that idea. She saw the restless movement of the beast inside of him. But he surprised her by kissing her forehead and saying, “We shouldn’t be long. I’ll leave Quinn with you while we travel on horseback.” He turned to Charlotte. “You can ride, can’t you?”

  She crossed her arms and looked as if she might actually be offended. “I grew up in th’ Highlands o’ Scotland, Your Grace. I can probably sit atop a horse better than ye.”

  Davien snorted. “Point taken.”

  Cosette fell asleep, comforted in Davien’s warm embrace. When they returned to Shadowlawn, he gently lifted her in his arms and carried her to their chamber, where he laid her down on the bed. Cosette didn’t think she’d ever been so weary in her life. The last few hours had been draining. She had no doubt that she would sleep like the dead until they returned.

  “Sweet dreams, my dear Cosette.”

  She felt a smile touch her mouth; for they were the same words he’d uttered to her the first night he’d brought her to Shadowlawn. That night she’d feared she’d faced her demise, only to find that it had become her salvation.

  ~ ~ ~

  “So where does this woman live?” Davien asked as he mounted one of the black stallions. Charlotte was already in the saddle and ready to go.

  “Let’s just say it’s th’ part beyond th’ Tower.” She urged her horse into a canter, leaving Davien no choice but to follow.

  Davien’s estate laid just along the outskirts of the heart of London in the rural West End district of Chelsea, which meant that if they were going beyond the Tower, then the woman Charlotte knew was somewhere in the East End.

  They traveled along the Thames until the landmarks of the city began to make their presence known. From Westminster Abbey to St. James Park and the statue of King Charles I standing in proud honor at Charing Cross. Once the Tower came into view, they kept going, through the Whitechapel district and further north, until Charlotte slowed her mount near the area of Bethnal Green. They rode in silence down the Cambridge Heath Road until Charlotte finally reined in before a large, whitewashed mansion—where she dismounted. The sun had just peeked over the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the manor.

  “Welcome t’ th’ White House, Your Grace, although this place has been called many names over th’ years—Kirby’s Castle, Wright’s Madhouse, but it was renamed when George Potter took over . . .”

  “Enough,” Davien snapped as he dismounted, grabbing the satchel that held the tablet as he went. “You didn’t tell me that the woman you knew lived in a bloody asylum.”

  “I dinna really know her, only the rumors.” Charlotte didn’t appear chagrined in the least. “She’s a pauper with th’ gift o’ sight. Where else do ye think she might live?”

  Davien had to admit that she had a point, bu
t that didn’t mean he was pleased by her deception. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, let’s just see if what you heard had any truth to it.”

  Davien had never stepped foot inside an asylum before, and he hoped that he never had to do so again. The moment he opened the door, the stench of human excrement hung in the air and nearly suffocated him. The haunting sounds of despair and clanging, dragging metal sounded from everywhere—and nowhere. The very walls seemed to pulse with cruelty and neglect.

  He saw Charlotte recoil and he knew that she wasn’t unaffected. “This is inhumane,” she breathed.

  “Agreed,” he clenched his jaw, knowing that he would remember this day for years to come. Once they were finished interviewing Charlotte’s seer, he vowed that he would do everything in his power to see that such horrid conditions were brought to the attention of the King. “Do you know the name of the woman we’re looking for?”

  “Her name is Mrs. Clay. That’s all I know.”

  “Then it will have to be enough.”

  Davien was about to stride off in search of a member of the staff when a woman in white appeared further down another hallway. He called out to her and she paused. Her face was so pinched and cruel that it was no wonder she worked at such a place. “You’re a mighty fancy gent to be coming in here,” she sneered.

  He ignored the barb. “I’m looking for a woman by the name of Mrs. Clay.”

  “Are you now?” The woman pointed up the stairs. “Second floor. The women’s wing is to your right. I’d show you myself, but we’re terribly short staffed.” With that, she walked off, presumably to attend to her duties, but Davien wasn’t so sure that she cared about anything but herself.