Part 17 (2/2)

They sat quietly for several minutes. Again he regarded the thing on his hand, and it occurred to him that Mr. Bennick did not wear any sort of ring. But he had been a magician; Mundy had said so. Surely he had once worn a ring like this, which meant they could be gotten off. Which also meant an unpleasant task lay before Rafferdy, but one he could not avoid. He must speak to Mr. Bennick as soon as possible.

”I always wished I could do magick,” she said, still gazing out the window. She smiled, though it was a rueful expression. ”I've even tried to work spells, but to no effect. The practice of magick is for men, as are so many things in this world. Whether it is right or fair is beside the point; I could no sooner be a magician than Mrs. Baydon or my sister Lily could attend a masque without garnering discredit.”

Now she turned to him, and color rose in her cheeks as an excitement came over her. ”But you, Mr. Rafferdy. You are a magician. Or, that is, you could be if you chose to make a study of it. And how I wish you would become a master of it! For if you did, then you could be the one to bring him some relief, to help him at last.”

It was only after she spoke these last words that she appeared to notice what he had become aware of the moment it happened: she had placed her left hand over his right. He did not move; he dared not.

”Forgive me,” she said, pulling her hand back and casting her eyes downward. ”It is not my place to tell you how you should occupy your time.”

He could still feel the warmth of her hand. ”Of whom do you speak, Miss Lockwell?” he said at last. ”Who would you have me help?”

He detected a quivering about her countenance. Nor could it be ascribed to her recent illness; she was all but recovered. It was something else that caused her distress, or rather caused her to hope. She started to speak, but at that moment Lady Marsdel called out to Rafferdy, complaining that he was being quite selfish with Miss Lockwell's company.

This p.r.o.nouncement could not be ignored. They rose; he gave her his arm. Her hand alighted on it as light as a bird, and they joined the others.

A T LAST THE doctor p.r.o.nounced Miss Lockwell well enough to return home.

”I will tell her the news at once,” Mrs. Baydon said. ”I am sure it will be a great relief to her.”

”A relief?” Lady Marsdel said. ”What cause can Miss Lockwell have to be relieved? Surely it has been no hards.h.i.+p for her to stay here. Nor can I imagine her mother has suffered in any way with her gone, what with two other daughters to attend her. It is we who shall suffer. Our society has been altered to accommodate her unexpected presence, but now it shall be altered again with her removal. It is all most inconvenient.

”I do say, Miss Lockwell,” Lady Marsdel said, when the subject of this speech was brought into the room and given the news, ”will you not stay awhile longer? Your mother cannot possibly need you.”

Miss Lockwell gave many thanks for all the kindness that had been showed her. However, she could not be prevailed upon to stay. Rafferdy offered to deliver her to Whitward Street, but Mrs. Baydon interjected that she had already arranged for her father-in-law's coach.

”The seats are larger, and it's very warm inside,” Mrs. Baydon said. ”The lumenals have been so short lately, and there is a chill in the air.”

It was just as well, Rafferdy decided. Better to make his good-byes here, where she was not yet distracted by the attentions of her mother and sisters. Only, Mrs. Baydon and Lady Marsdel and Lord Baydon all hovered about. In the end there was no chance to do anything but press her hand, a gesture from which she quickly withdrew. But her glance did not so swiftly leave him, and he liked to imagine it was his face to which her last look was directed before the coach moved away down Fairhall Street.

”I shall miss her company very much,” Mrs. Baydon said. ”She is such a sweet thing. And, as I have noted, she presents herself exceptionally well for one of her cla.s.s. I would go so far as to say, if given a proper dress, she would not stand out at any party we might throw here.”

”You are mistaken, Mrs. Baydon,” Rafferdy said. ”I am certain Miss Lockwell would indeed stand out at such an affair. There can be no doubting, if she were properly attired, that everyone in attendance would think her the prettiest thing they had ever laid eyes upon.”

He spoke these words with unusual feeling. Had he been of less distracted mind, he might have thought twice upon noticing the startled look Mrs. Baydon gave him.

R AFFERDY WAS IN a fine mood all the way back to Warwent Square. His humor was so good that he chose to go on foot, and every little garden that he pa.s.sed, every splash of color that he knew would be pleasing to her eye, pleased his as well.

However, upon arriving home, his spirits reversed. His rooms were small and dim. He meant to catch up on correspondence and other business, but he had no sooner picked up his pen than a compulsion came upon him to leave, and he quit his apartments after being there hardly an hour.

He thought it was his intention to go to his club, to enjoy some brandy and conversation with other young gentlemen who, while worth a great deal of money, had little of any worth to say-that is, to have a drink with his peers. However, when he opened his mouth, it was a different direction he gave his driver, and soon the cabriolet pa.s.sed through the Lowgate, jouncing along the grim streets of Waterside.

When he exited the cabriolet, he found himself on a drab but not entirely unwholesome lane, in front of a shabby inn. The sign over the door advertised The Golden Loom.

It had occurred to him as he left Warwent Square that he had not seen Eldyn Garritt in half a month. It had not been by any intention that this was the case. Rafferdy had been cross with him at their last meeting, he recalled; however, it had been mere noise and air, like everything Rafferdy ever said. Garritt had to have known that.

Only no letters had come from Garritt. Perhaps he had been upset after all, the silly man. And Rafferdy had been preoccupied, first with the wretched affair of the ring, and then with Miss Lockwell's situation. Well, he was here now, and if Garritt was still fool enough to be angry with him, Rafferdy would keep buying the punch until he won forgiveness, or at least until the both of them fell into a stupor. He spoke to the innkeeper, who led him upstairs. He rapped upon the door.

It was not Garritt who answered but rather his sister. Rafferdy had never met her, but her ident.i.ty could not be doubted, as her resemblance to her brother was strong. She was a rather lovely thing, he thought at first, a young woman of about eighteen. She said that her brother was not in, then shuffled to the window and sat, staring outside at some beleaguered stick of a tree. It was only through great effort that he prized a few more words out of her. She did not know where her brother was. When did she expect him? But she never expected him anymore; he was ever out until odd hours, and she cared to know nothing about what he did.

What a sullen creature! Any beauty she possessed was marred by her listless air and pouting expression.

”When he returns, you will tell him I came,” he said, but she only shrugged, so he went to the table in the corner, rummaged until he found a sc.r.a.p of paper, and scratched out a note for Garritt. He started to give it to the sister, then thought better of it and left it on the table.

By the time he returned home, a letter had come from Vallant Street, inviting him to dine with the Baydons. He wrote back, declining. They could imagine he had much business to catch up on.

However, the correspondence of the last several days remained unopened on the desk. His affairs were neglected. Over the next several days he did not go out. He did not even bother to dress, instead wandering around in his gown, eating hardly anything but drinking a great deal of whiskey.

A cloud of misery settled over him, such as he had never known before. Everything that usually held amus.e.m.e.nt for him now seemed dull and pointless. It was impossible to imagine how he had ever derived pleasure out of shopping for clothes, or gambling, or attempting to win applause from stupid people at stupid parties, as if such recognition was something to be admired rather than scorned. At any given moment he had no idea whether it was night or day; the umbrals and lumenals flickered by.

Each time a note arrived he checked the address to see if it was from Garritt; none of them was. Vallant Street invited him twice again, and Fairhall Street did not ask for but rather required his presence. He ignored these summonses. What pleasure could he bring to or derive from such affairs when the only thing he wished to behold would not be there? Why go to a dinner where he could not whisper behind his napkin and make her laugh? Why go to a party when he could not walk about the room and marvel at the sight of her upon his arm? He could see no purpose in going anywhere where Miss Lockwell was not.

So instead, he must go to her.

The shroud of fog lifted, and everything was bright and sharp-edged. How was it he had not thought of it before? Never in his life had he denied himself anything he had wished for, so why had he denied himself this?

There could be only one logical answer to that question. He had not known until that moment what it was that he wanted. Perhaps he never really had known. The clothes, the gambling, the parties-perhaps all of it had been a subst.i.tute for this one unknown thing.

Only it was unknown no longer. Rafferdy stood, filled with a sensation more intoxicating than drink had ever imparted him. He felt positively eager. He found his man and discovered it was the afternoon of a middling lumenal. Good, he thought, as he dressed and put on his best coat; it would be a perfect time, and they could have no other engagements. He told his man to summon the driver. He would go to Whitward Street; he would see Miss Lockwell. And he would confess how profoundly he both admired and loved her.

He started to examine his appearance in the looking gla.s.s, then turned away. Her eyes were the only mirror that mattered to him now. He hurried down the stairs and into the front hall. A clatter of hooves sounded outside; the carriage had been brought around. Whistling a cheery tune, he took his hat, then threw open the door.

A carriage was indeed parked in the street before his house, but it was not his cabriolet. It was a four-in-hand: a large and grand conveyance, black with gilt trim, led by a handsome brace of chestnut horses.

Rafferdy's momentum carried him to the base of the steps, and there he stuttered to a halt. His manservant had opened the carriage door and was helping a gray-haired man disembark. The older fellow limped, leaning on a cane, his left foot wrapped in a bandage. All the same, he carried himself in an upright manner. His progress was slow up the walk, but Rafferdy could only stand and watch him come.

”Were you going somewhere, Dashton?” the gray-haired man asked as he drew near. ”You have a look as if you were just leaving.”

Rafferdy could not help glancing off down the street, and he fingered the hat in his hands.

”You need not answer. I see it is indeed the case. I suppose my arrival must keep you from some pressing engagement or lively affair. However, I trust you will not begrudge me this interruption in deference to the distance I have come.” The gray-haired man had come to a halt before him. ”Well, aren't you going to greet me?”

For a wild moment Rafferdy's compulsion was to dash down the street like a madman. Then the light went out of the world, as if a cloud had pa.s.sed before the sun. Only the sky was a clear, cold blue. He turned to the older gentleman and gave a bow.

”Greetings, sir,” he spoke. ”You are very welcome here.”

”Am I indeed?” Lord Rafferdy said. ”I imagine you will feel differently once we have talked, for it is time we addressed your future. It can wait no longer. Nor can I. For hours I sat in the coach, yet after even this brief walk to the step I must sit again. Let us go in.”

M INUTES LATER FOUND them in the parlor. Rafferdy's man had brought them brandy and the tobacco box, as well as a stool on which Lord Rafferdy had settled his bandaged foot.

”The door will still be there when we are done speaking, I quite a.s.sure you,” Lord Rafferdy said.

Abashedly, Rafferdy realized he had indeed been hovering at the door, one foot in the parlor and one foot out. He crossed the room and slouched into a chair-then leaped back out of it as if the seat had scalded him. He could not bear to be still.

”I prefer to stand,” he said.

”A standing man sees the dawn sooner, as the Murghese say.” Lord Rafferdy took a sip of brandy. ”I was not much one for sitting myself when I was your age. I liked nothing more than to be on the move. I suppose that was why I decided to serve as an officer in the royal army. I wanted to travel, to see the Northern Realms, the Princ.i.p.alities-even the deserts of the southern empire. But that was years ago. These days, the only traveling I do is sitting in a chair like this, with a book open before me.”

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