A Grave Inheritance (32 page)

“I said get away.” Another slap followed, much harder than the first.

“Criminy! I’m coming. Ain’t no need to spill m’wits.”

Their slow, lumbering footsteps joined with the pounding of my blood to create a resounding din in the blackness. It seemed an eternity passed before silence settled over me once more, though it lasted but a moment before a long, shuddering breath shook my entire torso. Only then did I realize the full extent of my folly.

Dear Lord, I’m lost in the walls.

A small groan escaped as I slouched forward in dismay. The situation was bleak at best. I could pound on the walls like a mad woman for help, or try to find the way back by myself in absence of a light and, to be entirely honest, a clear memory of the previous route. Having a strong aversion to public humiliation, I pushed to my feet, and ever so carefully, started up the stairs. On the other side, the passage continued a dozen paces before coming to a rather abrupt end.

“Damnation!” I cursed softly, while rubbing the sore spot on my forehead that had first discovered the adjacent wall.

Pushing the pain away, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

Left turn to the next set of stairs...
That had to be it. Or was it a right?

This went on for what felt like the better part of an hour, stumbling over stairs and along passageways, until left, right, up and down all blended together, and I was unequivocally lost.

My eyes glistened with tears from running head first into yet another wall. My dress was ripped in at least two places, and the skin on one hand stung like the dickens from where I had scraped it against the rough plaster. Turning another corner, I caught my shoulder on a wooden beam, bringing on an even greater onslaught of tears.

That’s it!
I thought angrily.
I shall never get out of here!

It was a well-known fact that curiosity had killed the cat. Now, it seemed, I would suffer a similar fate. A hundred years in the future, some poor workmen would cut into the plaster only to discover a skeleton with dark curly hair dressed in an ivory and blue silk gown.

The image brought a half sob, half laugh as I continued to walk, one trudging step in front of another. When the sliver of light first appeared in the distance, I thought it a delusion, induced by one too many collisions into walls. Blinking several times, I expected it to blend back into the darkness. To my amazement, not only did the light remain, it grew more pronounced the farther I went. My feet came to a sudden stop, and I stood mesmerized by the sudden salvation.

“Oh, saints above, I’m saved!”

Not daring to run for fear of braining myself, I gathered my skirts and settled for a slow, careful trot. The distance fell away, and I soon found myself staring at the thin line of light from where a section of wall had not been properly secured once the last person had passed through. Huffing a relieved breath, I nudged the panel open, my thoughts solely fixed on escaping the last hour of hell rather than whose room I was about to invade.

Daylight hit my eyes, blinding me nearly as much as the darkness had. With my hand raised as a temporary shield, I took a tentative step forward when a man’s deep voice stopped me dead.

“Aye, Caitria,” the man said from somewhere across the room. “’Tis a lovely settee.”

A lady laughed, and I was reminded of a hundred silver bells. “And how would you know, Tiarnach?” she asked playfully. “For I swear you’ve not laid eyes upon it since you arrived.”

“I’ve saved my eyes for you, lass, and laid myself upon the settee instead. What better way to judge its merits?”

“And judged it you have,” she said, her voice taking on a sultry tone. “Very thoroughly, I might add.”

The first startled moment had stolen my wits, leaving me incapable of the simplest comprehension. Then the shadows cleared from my vision, and I saw a man and woman, both in a state of undress, entwined on an amber velvet settee—the same settee I had seen while running errands with Cate a week ago.

Realization hit harder than any of the previous walls, flooding my face with a rush of hot blood.

I shrank away in shame, willing myself to disappear. Nothing less than unmitigated humiliation could have forced me back between the walls. But that was exactly what I had in store if I stayed put, or even worse, tried to tiptoe for the chamber door. With the threat of discovery hanging like a guillotine over my head, I lifted a foot, and ever so slowly moved it behind me. Halfway to safety, I shifted the other foot with the same degree of caution. Inches away from a clean escape, my shoe came down on the hem of my gown. The sudden torque threw me off balance, and I stumbled like a clumsy buffoon into the encasement.

The man’s head whipped around. “Who’s there?” he asked, staring straight at me.

I jerked upright, then froze under Tom Faber’s intense gaze.

Cate pushed up to her elbows and looked at me. “Selah, is that you?”

Confusion reigned havoc in my brain.
Get in the wall. Shut the panel...no...Don’t move. Stay where you are...

Flustered, I twisted from left to right as my hands fluttered like wings at my side. A flurry of movement came from the settee, and a moment later Cate stood in front of me. My humiliation complete, I dropped my eyes to the floor, unable to meet her gaze.

A warm hand rested on my arm. “Selah,” she said gently, “why were you in the walls?”

My mouth opened and closed several times to no avail. Finding myself incapable of speech, I resorted to a one-shoulder shrug to best explain my recent activities.

“Did you go exploring and get lost?” she asked.

This time I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the floor.

“Since you are without a candle, I assume you lost that as well.”

I nodded again.

“Oh, Selah, You must have been terrified. It took me six months to learn my way from one end to the other.” Her hand moved to my chin, and she gently nudged my chin up. “Good gracious, child!” she exclaimed when our eyes met. “Whatever happened to you face?”

Prickles stung my nose. Pressing my lips together hard, I blinked rapidly to keep from crying. These efforts had a minimal effect against the overwhelming combination of pain and shame, and my eyes were soon swimming.

“I couldn’t see anything once the candle went out.” I sniffled and brushed a tear from my cheek. “It was hard to tell where one passage ended and another began.”

Cate placed an arm around my shoulder and guided me farther into the room. “Come here, dear,” she said with more patience than I deserved. “I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

One look at Mr. Faber seated cross-armed on the settee, and I dug in my heels to keep from going any farther. “I...I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I stammered. “Please, just let me return to my chamber. I promise not to—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Cate said. “Not until those scrapes are seen to.”

The sudden tension in her arm countered any further refusals. Like an obedient child, I let her guide me to an armchair where I sat stiff-backed on the very edge of the cushion. The blacksmith looked on, but I kept my eyes averted as a flood of warmth passed through me.

“There you are,” Cate said, patting my arm. “Good as new once the dirt and blood are cleaned up. Too bad I can’t say the same thing for that gown. Fanny has a fine hand for sewing, though these rips may exceed her skill.”

I had figured as much. “Thank you,” I said, attempting to stand. “I should go change before anyone else sees me.”

Cate placed a firm hand on my shoulder to keep me from rising. I sank down and looked at her imploringly. I wanted desperately out of her room. Once gone though, I didn’t know if I would ever be able to meet her eyes again.

Oh, why hadn’t I just stayed in my room and written letters to Allison and Katrina?
I could have kicked myself for being such a Nosey Nell and giving into my curiosity.

“Tom,” Cate said without taking her eyes from me. “Will you get a wet cloth for Selah? No doubt she will want to freshen up before I explain why you are in my private chamber this afternoon.”

Mr. Faber laughed good-naturedly and pushed to his feet. Based on the state of his long chestnut hair and disheveled clothing, the reason for his visit required no further explanation. Not to mention the hastily donned dressing gown that now covered Cate from nape to floor in a shower of dark green silk. I might have been from a small village in the Colonies, but I knew what it meant when two people had to scramble for clothing after being discovered prostrate together on a new velvet settee.

“Please don’t bother,” I pleaded. Cate didn’t budge an inch, and I tumbled headfirst into a fit of nervous babbling. “Henry discovered the passageway when he followed a young girl into your gardens after the big to-do at Amelia’s party. And then the other night I heard someone pass by my chamber. Curiosity got the best of me, though I should never have gone exploring without permission. Upon my soul, not a word of this shall ever leave my lips.”

Cate looked amused at Mr. Faber. “You don’t usually pass by Selah’s room on the way to mine. Was this the night you arrived in your cups from the tavern?”

The blacksmith nodded solemnly. “Aye, I lost my bearings and almost had to sleep it off inside the walls.” He dipped a cloth into the porcelain basin on the dressing table and squeezed out the excess water. Blood burned anew in my face when he handed it to me, and I took full advantage of the cloth to hide my embarrassment.

Unfortunately, one can only wash for so long. With great reluctance, I brought the cloth down, my face tingling from the thorough scrubbing, and my thoughts somewhat composed for the impending explanation. Cate and Mr. Faber appeared entirely at ease, without the slightest hint of guilt. To be sure, they looked nothing at all like two people should who had just been caught in an illicit love affair.

Be calm,
I reminded myself.
This is London. People live by different rules here than they do in Hopewell.
My chin trembled when I attempted a placid expression. All the same, I squared my shoulders and looked directly at Cate, prepared to just smile and nod as Nora had always advised me to do in such circumstances.

“Selah,” Cate said, gesturing to the blacksmith. “Let me introduce my husband, Mr. Tom Faber.”

My composure fled like a startled finch “Your...your husband?” I gasped, so shocked I completely forgot Nora’s advice. “You’re married to the blacksmith?”

Mr. Faber gave a hearty laugh and bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance again, Miss Kilbrid.”

A thought snapped into place, and my eyes flew back to Cate. “He saw you heal me. Does he know what we are?”

Now it was Cate’s turn to laugh. “Tom Faber is just an alias he has picked up over the years. His real name is Tiarnach O’Brid, so yes he is well aware of our lineage as he shares it himself.”

I stared at Tom, or Tiarnach, my mouth open enough to catch flies if there were any about. He gave me a kind smile then spoke to Cate. “I best be going, Caitria. The Duke of Buckingham has commissioned another automaton.” His eyes cut to me for a second. “And I believe Miss Kilbrid needs some time alone with you.”

“You’re probably right,” Cate said, sounding somewhat wistful.

While I sat dumbfounded in the armchair, Cate and Tom returned to the settee to gather his missing garments. They spoke softly as he pulled on his white stockings and slipped each foot into a black leather shoe. The waistcoat went next, which Cate buttoned.

Tom bent to kiss her cheek. “You may tell Master Filmore that he built a fine piece of furniture.”

Cate laughed. “Don’t forget your hat and coat. It’s raining to soak a man through.”

I stared at my hands, feeling even more the unwanted visitor. I should have been the one to leave, not Tom.

The sudden pad of footsteps caught my attention. Turning my gaze to the wall, I watched in surprise as the wooden panel flew open, and a woman stepped into the room, bundled in a blue woolen cloak.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Justine Rose said, throwing back the hood and looking straight at Cate. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her eyes flicked to Tom. “And you, too, Father, for I’ve news of that young wretch you’ve been on about.”

Chapter Sixteen

All in the Family

I gripped the arms of the chair as the world wavered before my eyes. In an attempt to dispel the terrible vision, I blinked several times, hoping the woman would either change into someone else, or disappear altogether. The thick copper hair and finely sculpted face remained unaltered, and I was left with the unpalatable truth that Justine Rose had indeed stepped from between the walls into Cate’s private chamber.

No one spoke. Cate stared motionless at the impertinent slut who had just referred to her as mother. Tom stood beside her with an expression of pure consternation, and no wonder, being called father by a young lady near his own age. Looking between the three of them, I felt transported back to the theater where I was the sole spectator on a makeshift stage. The silence persisted, and the scene took on a farcical element as they each awaited the next line. My skin itched with awkward embarrassment—for myself, for Miss Rose, for Cate and Mr. Fabre.

The actress removed her cloak, oblivious to my presence as she tossed it on a nearby table. “Well, this is a fine welcome,” she said, sounding rather put out. “If I’d known you’d be so disinterested, I would have saved myself the trouble. As I’m already here, you could at least send for a tea tray. I’m chilled through for my efforts and need to warm up before I return to the theater.”

Still as a statue, I waited for Cate’s reply. Several long seconds passed before she gave a resigned sigh and gestured toward me.

“Justine, I don’t believe you’ve been formally introduced to my houseguest, Miss Selah Kilbrid.”

I wanted no part of the farce, but propriety demanded otherwise. So I stood and forced a pained smile. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Rose.”

The actress turned her eyes upon me. “Dear me!” she laughed, clasping her hands together. “Why didn’t you tell me we were having a family reunion? Shall I fetch Sophie? You know how she hates to miss the fun.”