Abominations (52 page)

      Looking at her Beth gave a single, very small, almost imperceptible, nod.

      As the others started to leave, Gwen had a thought.

      “What if Debussy's lying? About the duke I mean... What if she's just been telling everyone that he's a part of this, when the truth is that she's mesmerized him, using this new technique? I mean, I doubt that's the case, but if it might be, what would you all be expected to do? What would the king want done?”

      Everyone else looked blank, but Kelvin smiled.

      “Why, we'd have to use all due diligence to protect him, now wouldn't we?”

Chapter twenty-eight

      What happened next surprised and amazed Gwen, or would have, she figured, if she'd been anyone other than her. Life had delivered a few important lessons. One of which, the oldest of them all, was that no one stands by you. She'd learned it on the playground as a child, when even the kids brave enough to play with the ugly girl eventually gave in to peer pressure and drove her away. When she lay bleeding on the side of the street and no one would stop to help her because she didn't look right. Not pretty enough to bother with. Not even average enough.

      When she got up in the morning, Bethany, and everyone else, had left. All of Beth's things had been packed quietly in the night, and taken away, probably in the first minutes after she'd fallen asleep. At least a note had been left, telling her to go to the Vernors' house and wait there. A likely enough thing to say, if you were giving someone the brush off. She could have at least mentioned that things were done.

      It wasn't so much that she'd felt like Beth owed her; if anything the situation would be the exact opposite. Beth had helped her get Mathews and while a few of the others that had been there at the sacrifice were still free, that had been the important one for her. Still, some hint that she'd been fired or something might have been nice. Maybe she could get a job charging crystals or something? Beth had mentioned that once, as something that might be possible. Or, maybe, if she could find a position, she could get a job as a loader somewhere? She had options, she realized. Even some money available from the Vernors, at least until they decided to dump her too.

      That thought made her smile.

      Was this then, what it felt like to be dumped? If so, then everyone was right, it felt horrible. Survivable. Sure. She'd felt a lot worse. Now she needed to move, to get things going and to not let herself sink into self-pity. That never helped, especially when things looked down. She stood, made her way to the bedroom and quickly packed everything, then did the same in the bathroom. In the kitchen, well, they had all that food, but most of it would keep. She'd ask Ethyl if the soup kitchen could use it or something.

      Then, the hardest part of this whole thing, for her at least, she called the Vernors. She didn't know what kind of response she'd really expected, but she didn't get it at all.

      “Gwen? Oh good! Are you ready then? Miss Westmorland called and arranged for you to stay with us. It's because of Yule, you see. We need to start in two days for the charity work... If you're still willing to help?” The voice hanging in the air in front of the spheres took a deep breath.

      “Oh! There were other messages from the Westmorlands too. A Heather Westmorland suggested that you run some kind of conditioning drills in this down time. She said you might know what that meant? And a Kelvin Westmorland suggested that you have some uniforms made to match Bethany's, that it would be important and that you get them as soon as possible. He tried to suggest they'd fund your clothing, but Robert and I won't hear of it. Oh and a very... odd sounding man named Darren Westmorland also left a message. I wrote it down, but I can't say I understood it all... Let's see. Ah, here. It says “Miss Farris, we've not met. I'll explain all this later. You haven't been dumped. Train hard now.” At any rate, you should come over in case any more of them call. I can have your driver out to help you within the hour...”

      James didn't seem surprised that she'd be moving back into the big mansion, at least for a bit. He just helped her load the trunks of clothes and her small bag of toiletries and makeup into the big black lorrie he'd brought for the job.

      “The Westmorlands are more military than most, from what I've seen of them. They don't stay in any one place for too long, carry everything they want to keep and don't worry about things overly. If you're going to be working with one, you'd best learn the habit. Not that you need to hear such from me, ma'am.” He flushed a bit but went right on loading her things onto the roof of the vehicle.

      Palms going up, she sighed and then grinned at him a bit when he turned around. “If I don't hear it from you, then who's going to tell me? What do you think would be a good amount to get things down to, just in case I ever do have to move quickly?”

      This got his attention, he kept throwing trunks on top of the roof like they weighed nothing, not stopping until everything found its way up, then he hopped up after it to secure it in place with thick leather straps nearly as wide as Gwen's hand.

      “Two bags and a uniform trunk. Make sure at least one bag has enough to survive on for a week. Not just clothes, but food too. Cans and dried things. Dried is lighter, jerky and travel bread, but they taste awful. Still, hunger gnawing your belly, you'll be glad you have them. I don't know if you'll ever need proper military kit, uniforms and such, but clothes you can work in, dark things in military colors that will help you blend, blues, blacks and greens. Maybe one of those women's suits, like your doctor friend, Debussey? Like she always wears. They're more popular now and you can go anywhere, nearly in that kind of thing. Dresses, but only one fancy, make the rest useful...” He scratched at his hairless chin and nodded, though he looked off at the horizon when he did it.

      “Then one special bag, keep it in the other with the food. Just a change of clothes, something you can move in, like what you wore the other day, the tan clothing, boots, food and some water. A knife and some rope. You need training to really survive on just that, but if you need to run, it gives you something. The important thing is that you can carry it without stopping to rest.”

      She sat inside, as was proper, even though she really wanted to get his take on what he thought the Westmorlands would consider training. When they got to the big house, she asked him as he unloaded.

      “Properly train? We'll, I wouldn't know. If it were me, I'd ask your parents' fellow, Winslow. Don't know as he'd know either, but I bet he'd know where to get the information if he doesn't have it to hand. Smart fellow that way.”

      Mrs. Vernor met her with a warm hug at the door and ushered her in, showing her to a nice guest room, though she looked uneasy about it. Her hands smoothed her skirt nervously as she stood looking around.

      “I know you wouldn't be comfortable in Katherine's rooms, but I feel bad, treating you so shabbily. Please let me know if there's anything you need or want, won't you dear?” The slightly older woman wrung her hands.

      “Oh? No... I mean to say that this is fine, better than I've ever had, you know? The things that I miss from home, well, those just don't really exist here, so I just need to get over it. Please don't worry about me.”

      Wanting to change the subject, Gwen asked what the plans were for the soup kitchen. She was shocked to learn that they literally planned to only serve soup and bread. After a bit of convincing, Ethyl decided that they'd find some way to get some meat courses to the people and even a special dessert or two, if possible. Maybe something filling and hearty, like potatoes as well. Gwen was surprised to learn that it wasn't money that had limited the menu, but the fact that they probably couldn't get anyone else to work the event.

      Since it had been her idea, Gwen decided to see if she could help make it happen somehow. Learn to make bread maybe or get someone to give them reduced prices for meat or desserts if they bought in bulk. Smiling at Mrs. Vernor she mentioned one other idea that might get people involved.

      “Invite your friends to come see me working like I promised and tell them that the press will be invited too. That should get at least some of them to show up. We'll really invite the press, so it won't even be a lie.”

      The idea got a laugh from Ethyl at first, but the look was followed by a nod and a shrewd glance.

      “Of course dear. I think that can be arranged...”

      That night she asked Winslow to meet her in the main drawing room, since the Vernors generally didn't go in there unless they had guests, but it would be public enough so no one would think ill of the man for meeting her there. She hoped it worked that way at least. He didn't blink at the idea, or say anything, so it probably would be alright. Worst that happened, she figured, would be that he'd want to have sex or something. The idea didn't bother her overly. She felt a little afraid at the thought, since she'd never done it, but Winslow was certainly good looking enough. Regardless they wouldn't be doing it in the main reception room.

      They met there after dinner, Winslow standing relaxed and ready, his body posture reminding her a little of some of the special service people she'd met. Not really having an idea of what to say, she just went over the events of the last few days, the attacks by Saracen mercenaries, leaving out that she'd engaged in combat with them herself.

      “So... now I have messages from several Westmorlands telling me to train, but I have no clue as to what that means to them. It was suggested to me that maybe you'd know?”

      The man stood for a few moments, looking at her blankly. Then after a while, he nodded.

      “If miss will meet me in the back of the house at four in the morning, I think I could manage to lead you through a few basic exercises.” He didn't laugh at her, but she had an odd sense that his perfectly blank face held in a kind of wicked glee at the idea. Probably meaning that whatever he had planned would be harder than he thought she could handle. Maybe it would be. This body wasn't exactly in good shape, she knew. In fact, if Katherine had run a mile or lifted anything over twenty pounds in the last ten years, it didn't show.

      The next morning, Winslow looked surprised to see her at the appointed time. She wore work clothes and heavy leather boots, since she didn't have any sweats or tennis shoes. She was glad for the long sleeves, because the temperature had dropped well below freezing during the night. She shivered and shook, but Winslow simply ignored the fact. He wore a much warmer looking heavy outfit that could have been made of canvas, but didn't have gloves either.

      “Well, so much for that. I didn't think you'd actually get up this early. Here then, take this.” He handed over two fairly large pills, explaining that they held painkillers, which would help her work harder and not feel the pain from it as much later.

      Then he gave her two glasses of fruit juice which he had on a small wooden table, held on a silver tray. One cherry, extremely tart, and one he told her was beet juice, oddly sweet, compared to the other one, she noticed. She didn't ask why she had to drink these things, possibly a local custom or something. Then he started her on some basic warm up exercises, similar to the ones she'd done in some of her martial arts classes.