Marissa Day (24 page)

Inside Mother’s bag was a small silver amulet. They’d been given strict instructions on how it was to be placed, and when. Supposedly, it would create a breach in the wards to allow Corwin and Darius to slip through.

For the thousandth time Miranda wished it was she who had charge of the amulet. If she had hoped for an immediate change in her feelings toward her mother, it had not happened. The habits of so many years would not break so soon, and despite a new intellectual understanding of all Mother had been through, Miranda found none of it could erase the old angers. Not yet anyway.

But as Darius pointed out so bluntly, Miranda was the one who would be watched. Whether any of them liked it or not, this party was a trap for her. Lady Thayer would be taking a keen interest in Miranda’s movements. It was Mother who would be able to move freely.

Miranda understood, as she understood the necessity of sleeping alone in her own bed for the remaining nights before the party in order to keep up the illusion that she was being confined under her mother’s watchful eye. She did not like that either.

“You can stop looking at me like that,” Mother said. “This is no easier for me than it is for you.”

Miranda shook herself. She truly had not realized she was communicating so much in her glance. “I’m sorry. I just ...”

“You don’t trust me.” The carriage jounced as it rolled over a loose stone and Mother smoothed her skirts. “I suppose I have only myself to blame for that. Perhaps after all these years I have thought too much on survival and too little on ...” She broke off, staring out the carriage window. “But no matter. You may be assured I will play my part, Miranda.”

And what then?
Miranda bit her lip.
If we all come through these next few days, what then?

It was a terrible thing to feel her old doubts returning. Miranda found her new-won intimacy and confidence was not so strong as she would have liked to believe. When Corwin and Darius were with her, it was easy to trust them utterly. The brief time they had spent together in Corwin’s house ... It had been as if they existed on another plane. They could all be free and open with one another, as one was supposed to be in one’s home. Being forced to exist again in the real world ... It was difficult.

Their carriage halted on the wide gravel courtyard, joining a line of others waiting in front of the low Tudor-era sprawl of Hallowgate House. Servants scurried to and fro with bags and bundles, and members of society in their bright summer clothes stood about giving orders and exchanging greetings.

“Smile, my dear,” said Mother. “The show’s about to begin.”

A liveried groom opened the carriage door, and helped Mother out. She cast a radiant smile around her, rising into her element as easily and naturally as ever.

“Phoebe, my dear! That pelisse is simply charming! I must have the name of your dressmaker ... Why, good afternoon, Lord Tapscott. I declare, it
has
been an age! How marvelous to see you looking so well ... Mr. Beale, how delightful. I was hoping to run into you ... Caroline! I’ve just heard the most delicious story ... Oh, not here; later. Do you know my daughter, Miranda?”

Miranda smiled politely, made her curtsies and gradually faded away from conscious regard as the other arrivals circulated around her mother. It was a familiar role and she welcomed it with a sense of relief that sparked more than a little worry deep in her mind. How, after all that had happened, could she still be most comfortable when no one noticed her at all?

Perfectly turned out in a deep green morning dress trimmed with antique lace, the mistress of Hallowgate sailed out of the carved doors straight toward Miranda.

“My dear Miranda!” she exclaimed, taking both of Miranda’s hands. “I do so want to welcome you personally to my home.”

“Thank you, Lady Thayer.” The by-now-familiar tingle ran up Miranda’s arms. She met Lady Thayer’s eyes, and a sensation of déjà vu swept over her.
You’re like me. You’re a Catalyst.
“It was very kind of you to invite us.”

“Not at all, not at all!” Lady Thayer waved Miranda’s words away. “I’m sure your delightful mother told you I had a most particular reason for asking you to come down.” Lady Thayer smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes. Curious, Miranda tried to sense some emotion from her, but the woman in front of her was like glass, hard and slick and impossible to grasp.

“Now, we shall get you installed in your rooms so you can rest and refresh yourself. We’ve the welcoming ball tonight, and I’m sure your mother will want you to look your best. Isn’t that so, Daphne?” Lady Thayer turned to her mother, who had come up behind Miranda.

“To be sure,” Mother purred. “In fact, my dear, I think it would be advisable for you to remain in your room until dinner. You’ve been so tired lately.”

Miranda met her mother’s gaze and held it for a count of three, and then dropped her eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

“There’s my good girl.” Mother patted her hand in her usual patronizing manner. “Now, for myself, Lady Thayer, I think a stroll in your
lovely
grounds before dinner would be just the thing.”

“Did someone say a stroll in the gardens?” Lord Tapscott stepped up. He was a big, bluff man with gray hair, a gray mustache, a large inheritance and an inconvenient wife. “Just the thing after all that dashed road dust.” He smiled broadly at Mother. “Daphne, have you seen the folly? Splendid view of the lake, don’t you know.”

“Why, Lord Tapscott, that sounds delightful.” The smile she flashed was calculated to dazzle, and even Miranda could see she succeeded. “Will Lady Tapscott join us?”

“Alas, no.” Miranda noticed the man’s regret was completely feigned. “Headache, you see. Poor thing has had to lie down.”

“Oh, dear.” Mother laid her fingertips delicately against her perfectly rouged lips “A headache is
such
a nuisance. Still. I’d hate to waste this lovely weather. But I’d better see Miranda settled first.”

“Oh, no need, Daphne, dear,” Lady Thayer said at once. “I’ll see to her.”

Lord Tapscott held his arm out for Mother to take, and off she went with a light tread, and just the barest hint of a wink at Miranda.

Miranda stared after her mother, half in disbelief, half in blatant admiration. She’d spent so long disdaining her for being a shameless intriguer, she hadn’t stopped to think of the level of acting skill Mother had cultivated over the years.

“Well, come along, Miranda.” Lady Thayer took her arm as if they were intimates. “I want to show you your room.”

Miranda let herself be led away. She kept in mind the parting advice Darius had given her and concentrated on the way in front of her, on the broad, low steps and the arched doorway. The whole house was low and filled with dark wood, from the heavy beams to the linen-fold paneling to the steep staircases. Miranda forced herself to wonder about the history of the ancient hall, if Queen Elizabeth had ever stayed here, and how much it had cost to increase the number of fireplaces and chimneys to make the place habitable in winter.

It was difficult. Her thoughts kept drifting to Lady Thayer, who was chattering away about who had arrived so far and who was expected, and everybody’s clothes. It was all so bland, so ordinary. Could this woman truly be involved in abduction, murder and intrigue with the mysterious Fae? Walking up the heavily carved wooden stair and down the narrow halls of a Tudor country house, it seemed quite ridiculous.

Concentrate, concentrate
, Miranda chided herself, noting the oak paneling, the miles of turkey carpet covering the ancient floorboards, and the stained glass of the window at the corridor’s end.

“I do so hope you’ll be comfortable here.” Lady Thayer opened a door in the left-hand side of the hall. Miranda glanced through to see a low-ceilinged room furnished in quite the modern style in shades of green. There was a clean bed and a comfortable chaise in front of the diamond-paned windows, as well as a marquetry writing desk and everything else that could make a guest feel at home. “I’ve put your mother next door.” Lady Thayer indicated the connecting door.

“It’s lovely, thank you.” Mindful of her role, Miranda made herself hesitate. “But I really don’t feel like a rest right now. I’m sure a turn around the grounds would be just what I need.”

Steel flashed in Lady Thayer’s gray eyes. “Oh, no, my dear. Forgive me, but I must agree with your mother. You look quite tired. And you want to be at your best tonight.” She patted Miranda’s cheek.

Miranda drew upon the skills she had so recently discovered, and sent a wave of frustration out into the air. “Of course,” she murmured. “Then I shall bid you good afternoon, Lady Thayer.”

Miranda went into the room and closed the door. But standing where she was, she was certain she detected an air of smug satisfaction before she heard the whisper of Lady Thayer’s skirts as the woman moved away to attend to her other guests.

 

 

The rest of the afternoon was maddening. Miranda had to remind herself over and over again that this was a good thing. If she was being watched by Lady Thayer, having a genuine and growing air of frustration about her was only helping the cause.

And there was now no doubt at all that she was being watched. Twice, Miranda left her room, once by the front stair and once by the back. Both times, Lady Thayer just
happened
to be by the door with her hospitable smile and her “Oh, Miranda,
dear
.”

Which was just what they wanted to happen. It was all going according to plan. Except the shadows were lengthening outside, and Mother had not returned. Miranda’s suspicions began to deepen into alarm. Yes, Mother had agreed to do this thing; yes, she seemed to believe in it on the strength of Father’s apparent confirmation. In the yard, she had played her part to perfection, but she’d always been so flighty, so scattered and intent only on the next party, the next man, the next meal ticket.

Does Mother really understand that there is something greater at stake here?
Miranda asked herself as she stared in vain across the empty gardens.
How can she when I can only half believe it sometimes and I’ve been living it for days?

Just as the clock was chiming six, and just as Miranda was certain she would begin tearing her hair out, she heard a door open and close.

Miranda flew across her room and pounded on the connecting door.

“Good heavens, Miranda!” exclaimed Mother from the other side. “What is the matter?”

Miranda stood there panting as if she’d just run a mile. A lock rattled and snapped, and Mother pulled the door open. But there was Mother, perfectly composed, except for the tiny vertical line between her brows.

“I was afraid ...” Miranda gulped air, suddenly ashamed of being so dramatic. “I thought ...”

“Well, you needn’t have.” Mother turned away and settled at her dressing table. “The deed is done.”

“But you were gone so long.” Miranda stepped into Mother’s room. Its furnishings were nearly identical to her own, except done in shades of rose rather than green, and the bed was larger. A subtle gibe at Daphne Quicke’s reputation?

“Lord Tapscott was most interested in showing me every inch of the gardens.” Mother studied her face in the mirror. Miranda couldn’t help looking as well, and for the first time in her life, she noted how tired her mother looked. “I had a time keeping him from doing something Lady Tapscott would make him regret. Still.” She drew herself up. “We are here, it is done, and now, my dear, I must ask you to withdraw. If I don’t have a nap before the festivities this evening, I will be quite useless.”

“Of course,” murmured Miranda. “And ... thank you.”

Her mother smiled, an oddly wistful expression. “When all this is over, Miranda, I think you and I are going to have a very long talk.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Again Mother smiled, and unfamiliar emotion squeezed Miranda’s heart. “Now, get along. You also need to look your best tonight.”

Miranda closed the door softly and drifted into her room. She sat on the edge of the chair by the window and stared out at the darkening gardens until Louise knocked at the door.

“Excuse me, miss,” said her maid as she bustled into the room. “But it’s time to get you ready for the party.”

“Yes, of course.” Miranda got to her feet. “The show’s about to begin.”

Twilight was just deepening to full dark when Darius and Corwin arrived at the stout hedge that marked the boundary of Hallowgate Park. The ward slid against Darius’s skin like the flat of a knife, telling him plainly that if he turned the wrong way, he would be cut open.

“Here’s the gap.” Corwin was crouched well down beside the hedge. They were both dressed as countrymen, in tweed trousers and stout boots with rough caps on their heads. Anyone seeing them now would take them for gardeners.