A Grave Inheritance (33 page)

Tom let out an exasperated breath. “You’re not making this any easier, Justine. The poor girl has just learned we’re married. Let’s not shake the tree any harder than need be.”

Justine smirked at me. “Still a babe in the woods, eh? At least they’ve let you out of the pudding cap.”

The insult would have stung if not for the sheer absurdity of the conversation. “You must be practicing for a new role, Miss Rose. Pray tell, in which play does a young woman escape from the mad house.”

The smirk tightened to hard lines around her mouth. She spoke to Cate, without taking her eyes from me. “You must let me tell her, Mother. It will make my day to see the shock on her sweet little face.”

“That will suffice, Justine,” Cate said, her voice laced with warning. “It’s not your place to decide what Selah knows.”

“How long do you intend to keep her on the leading strings? I say if the girl is old enough to seduce Lord Fitzalan, she’s old enough to know the truth.”

“Hold your tongue,” Tom snapped. “There’s no need for rudeness.”

“Well, how else do you think she stole him from me?” Justine waved a hand in my direction. “Just look at her. No doubt she bedded him quicker than a halfpenny whore.”

Heat stung my cheeks.
Whore, indeed!
And a halfpenny one at that. “Believe what you will, Miss Rose, if it makes you feel better.”

Justine pursed her mouth as though tasting something unpleasant. “She’s a saucy thing, isn’t she, Mother. I’ve a mind to—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I said. “Will you please stop calling her that? Cate Dinley is not your mother.”

For a moment, tense silence filled the room. Then Justine broke into a fit of laughter. “This is too much,” she said, looking at Cate. “Go ahead. Tell her I’m not your daughter.” Her gaze flicked to Tom. “You, too, father. Disown me if you can. And while you’re at it why don’t you explain how her grandmother Elizabeth was not really my sister.”

My eyes flew to Cate and Tom, who were silently watching Justine.

“So I thought,” Justine said. Then glancing at me, she pressed a finger against a cheek as though in serious contemplation. “Let’s see, Selah. I believe that would make you my great niece. Though, if you ever call me auntie in public, I shall have you laughed out of London.”

I gaped at her, shocked beyond reason. Did this trollop really think me such a fool? Or that Cate and Tom would willingly participate in her ridiculous schemes? “She’s insane,” I said, my voice beginning to shake. “What are you waiting for? Make her stop.”

They didn’t move, nor offer a word of denial. Tom met my eyes for a mere second before dropping his head to the floor. Cate’s face had turned ashen, and her mouth compressed to a thin angry line.

Panic fluttered in my chest. “Do something! Call a servant and have her thrown out.”

“Spare me the dramatics,” Justine said, rolling her eyes. “I thought you would be pleased to know that you still had some family left in the mortal world.”

Her words bit deeply into my already besieged spirits.
Justine Rose cannot be goddess born...She cannot be family.

“It’s not true,” I cried. “You’re lying!”

Justine went to the bed and flopped down as though she owned the place. “You almost discovered the truth a week ago at All Hallows. I barely escaped the crypt in time and had to redress in the nave.” She snickered. “Good thing the current rector isn’t prone to late night wanderings, or he would have gotten an eyeful.”

“No more, Justine,” Cate said wearily. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.”

Confusion tugged at me, pulled my head from left to right, then back again. Justine smiled like a clever cat, while Cate and Tom watched me with cautious expressions and worry filled eyes.

It can’t be true. I won’t let it be true.

My chest constricted, tighter than any stays had ever held me. The sound of panting gasps seemed to fill the room as shadows crept from all sides and surrounded my vision. Reaching behind me, I searched frantically for the armchair before I ended up face first on the carpet. Something hit my calves, and I fell in a heap onto the cushion.

A hand clasped my arm. “Breathe, Selah,” Cate said, with soft-spoken authority. “You need air.”

Warmth infused my skin. In an instant, I felt the tightness release, replaced by a sense of calm and detached understanding. Another minute found me fully restored as though nothing had happened.

Yet everything had happened.

Cate and Tom are my great grandparents.
The notion took on a shape of its own and nestled deep into the fabric of my thoughts. Another idea soon followed, clear as the first.
Justine Rose is my aunt.

I turned to Cate. “What did you do to me?”

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, rubbing my arm. “In a manner of speaking, I calmed your emotions and helped you to see the truth. If not for Justine’s interference, I never would have revealed so much at once.”

She made it sound reasonable. And yet...”You manipulated me.”

“No more than a strong tonic. Just quicker and without the sharp taste.”

My mouth dropped open in a show of resentment. “You put thoughts in my head!”

“Only the truth, Selah, so you could understand more readily. Heaven knows the acrobatics I already go through to keep the servants from finding out. The last thing I needed was for you to become hysterical and do something rash.”

I shook my head. “You can’t do that. Brigid’s power doesn’t work that way.”

Justine snorted. “Of course it does, you simpleton. I’ve been doing the same thing for Nora all week. How else do you think she could learn all the lines so quickly?”

It took a moment for her words to sink in. When they did, I looked at her anew, at the simple gray frock and severe bun pinned tightly to her head. Understanding rippled through me. “You...” I stammered. “You’re Margaret Fox!”

Justine cocked a brow. “What of it?”

“You’ve some nerve to involve Nora in such a scheme.”

“Involve her!” Justine repeated. “She begged for a chance to perform on stage. And it was her idea for me to pose as George Fox’s great niece.” She flipped a handful of the plain gray skirt. “I have a reputation for style to uphold, so believe me, it has been no small sacrifice to be seen dressed like a dowdy spinster. I consented because Nora thought it the only way for her to go out unattended.” She gave me a knowing look. “And who am I to ruin her dreams for the sake of vanity...or jealousy.”

The blatant accusation set me back. “I didn’t...I never...” The remaining words withered under Justine’s judgmental stare.

I shifted my gaze away, rather annoyed by her assumption. Nora was my best friend, by no means would I ever try to hold her back. Perhaps I could have been more supportive the morning she first spoke of being an actress. And not criticized
The Beggar’s Opera
so openly when she came home after spending the entire day with the fictional Meg Fox. But to be accused of acting out of jealousy? How could Justine make such an absurd claim when she knew that my antagonism lay at her feet and not at Nora’s?

A breath caught in my throat.
Good Heavens!
Had I actually hurt Nora out of spite for Justine? I wouldn’t have believed it if not for the guilty memories that jabbed at my conscience.

“What part is she playing?” I asked, in a much smaller voice.

Justine waited a moment before answering. “Since the theater manager decided to extend
The Beggar’s Opera
another week, Nora is my new understudy for Polly Peachum. You didn’t hear it from me though, as I’ve been sworn to secrecy. For some reason, Nora’s gotten it into her pretty head that her best friend would despise her for playing a trollop.” Justine narrowed her eyes. “Can you imagine where she got such a notion?”

My heart felt suddenly heavy. Thinking back on all I had said, it was little wonder Nora hadn’t brought me into her confidence.

Tom set a hand on each hip, widening his already expansive stance into a wall of muscle and bone. “As your understudy, there’s no guarantee that she’ll have a chance to play the part.”

“Oh, she’ll play it all right, tomorrow night when I am struck with a terrible head cold.” A smile curled at the corners of Justine’s mouth. “Be warned, Selah. I shall have you removed from the theater if you try to interfere in any way whatsoever.”

Weariness spread through me, and I pressed into the chair. Blast the woman’s threats! And above all, blast my stupid tongue! For the past week, I had faulted Nora for abandoning me, without any thought of what I may have done to her.

Cate remained at my side, a hand resting on my shoulder. “Justine, what news do you have of the young wretch?”

Justine shifted her weight on the mattress and her expression turned serious. “I’m not positive it’s even her, but I’ve a bad feeling about it. A young girl has taken to coming around the theater since Nora started rehearsals.” A slight crease appeared between her delicate brows. “Nora is more liberal than most with the purse strings, so this girl may just be another beggar in search of a hot meal. Until this afternoon I’ve not worried overmuch as their interaction had been limited to a few words and a penny or two each day.”

A jolt of alarm ran up my spine. “What do you mean? Where is Nora?”

For the first time since entering the room, Justine looked unsure. “Nora invited the girl to sup at a pub today when the dance master called for an intermission. I asked her not to go, but she insisted upon it. I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here.”

“You abandoned her?” I asked. “How could you be such a fool?”

Justine glared at me. “I’m not even sure if this is the same girl.”

“Of course it is,” I scoffed. “And she’s approached Nora twice already before she ever started rehearsing with you. I have to find her. Do you know which pub they went to?” I tried to stand, but Cate held me in place.

“Tiarnach,” she said, addressing the blacksmith by his real name. “Will you go with Justine to look for Nora?”

He nodded and started at once toward the wall panel, while Justine hurried into her cape.

“Do you have the knife?” Cate asked him.

My mouth fell open and I leveled a stare on the back of Tom’s head. He glanced over his shoulder, “Aye, I have it, and know just what to do if we find her.”

“Good,” Cate and I replied together.

I watched in anxious silence as Tom took Nora’s lantern, and the wall panel swung into place. Settling back into the chair, I pressed a hand over my eyes. “Why did you keep me from going?”

“Tom and Justine can see to Nora, and we have more to discuss.”

“What if Nora is ill?” My stomach tightened into a mass of queasy knots from the idea of Nora being infected with the pox, or whatever nasty disease the wretch decided to pass along today. “Can they heal her?”

“Not exactly.”

My eyes popped open, and I twisted around so quickly a nerve jumped in my neck. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly.’ What are their gifts?”
Please don’t say agriculture.
The last thing Nora needed was a strawberry if she were at death’s door.

“Tom has the gift of metal working and Justine has the gift of poetry and song.”

“You can’t be serious!” Hysterics pushed against Cate’s calming influence. “They can do nothing to help if she’s dying!”

I started to stand again when a gentle flood of warmth passed through my shoulder. The hysterics faded at once, and I settled back like a docile lamb.

Nora will be fine.
There’s no need to leave.
These thoughts swam through my head. They felt comfortable, true even, despite my previous fears.

“You did that thing again, didn’t you?”

Cate’s hand stayed on my shoulder, and another warm trickle spread through me. “I need you to be rational and not go running off in search of trouble. If Deri wanted Nora dead, she would have done it by now, and there would be little you could do to stop her.”

Everything she said sounded so reasonable, as though the words had been plucked from my very thoughts.

“Get out of my head.” I shifted to the side, and managed to pull free of her grasp. Seeing her small hand on the chair back, I was struck by a similarity from another encounter. “You did the same thing to the king when he threatened to indenture me and make me his mistress.”

Cate ran her fingers over the upholstery. “I calmed his emotions and helped him to see reason. Otherwise, there was no telling what he might have done in a fit of passion.” A cynical smile tugged at her mouth. “Over the years, I have learned that it is often easier to prevent a mistake than to undo one.”

“And you did it to me the night I was attacked by the hound.”

“Time was short. I needed you to see the danger lurking in the forest so you would get into the carriage.”

I crossed my arms in a show of annoyance, not sure how I felt about this skill of persuasion, regardless of the irrefutable benefits. Thanks to Justine Rose, my world had been rocked to its foundation, yet here I sat in a state of absolute calm, accepting certain truths in a matter of seconds rather than the weeks or months it would have otherwise taken.

Cate released a slow breath, then walked the short distance to the bed. Sitting down, she folded her hands demurely in her lap. “If I’m not mistaken, you have some questions for me.”

Some questions!
I almost laughed aloud from the understatement. After everything Justine had said, I doubted enough answers existed to satisfy what I needed to know.

Even so, one curiosity burned hotter than the rest. “How old are you?” I asked. “And don’t you dare claim five and twenty. I shan’t fall for that again no matter what’s recorded in the family bible.”
Five and twenty plus another hundred more like it.

Cate didn’t bat an eye. “The best I can determine, I was born around 150 AD in what is now known as the county Dublin. I’ve lost track of the exact number of years, but you are welcome to do the math. I came to London in 218 AD, as I’m sure you saw from the inscription on the altar in All Hallows.”

“Caitria Ni Brid,” I said softly, recalling the name inscribed above the date.