The Deathsniffer’s Assistant (The Faraday Files Book 1) (27 page)

Chris held his position by the door, weighing his options awkwardly. “This is your bedroom, Ana, and I’m not sure it’s appropriate for the two of us to be in here alone without a chaperone.”

Her face lit with amusement, and he could see her
almost
laugh. She indicated the empty chair and shook her head. “Oh, I don’t have much of a reputation. Carrying on with a poor, struggling artist as I do? I’m not exactly welcome in most proper circles, as my mother is keen to remind me at all turns.” And then, to his surprise, she reached under the chair and pulled up a newspaper he hadn’t noticed. She laid it down on the table before her. He watched as she smoothed the corners, and he read the headline upside down.
WHITE CLOVER SAVIOR IDENTIFIED.
He recognized the title of the article he’d read that morning. “Is this about you?” she asked, looking up from the sheet to meet his eyes.

He nodded reluctantly, and she returned the gesture with a nod of her own.

“So I doubt anyone will find the time to spread any rumours about you and me, not when there’s more than enough already to be said.” She gave him a plaintive look. “Please, won’t you sit, Mister Buckley?”

He sighed. It was a basic rule of society, not to be left alone with an eligible girl of equal or higher status in a private or personal location. It went against all of his instincts to cross the floor, pull out the chair, and seat himself gingerly at the table.

Ana was reading over the article again, her lips moving silently as her eyes went back and forth across the page. Then she blinked and looked up at him, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “My…” She lowered her eyes. “My uncle died at the Floating Castle, just like your father did,” she said quietly. “My favourite uncle.”

I don’t want to talk about this.
The words jumped into his mouth with so much force it was a trial to keep them trapped there. He struggled to force different words past them into the waiting silence. “I thought no Old Blood had been invited to the Floating Castle opening,” he said, his voice even and emotionless even as his stomach churned. “It was a controversy.”

But Ana was shaking her head. “No, they weren’t,” she said. “This was my mother’s brother, not my father’s.”

His interest sparked, and the flame it ignited burned bright enough to scare his ghosts into shadowy corners. He leaned forward in his chair. “The Duchess wasn’t born into the Old Blood?”

“No,” Ana said, a furrow appearing between her eyes. “I thought you knew. Her maiden name is North. Evelyn North. My grandfather was a big name at Lowry, and my uncle, James, was one of the ‘binders who tied a sylph into the Floating Castle net. She met my father when she was sixteen, and she married him before her nineteenth birthday, so she was never categorized.” The furrow deepened at the look of confusion she must have seen on his face. “Did she not tell you all of this?”

“No,” Chris said, trying not to think of the sylph net at the Floating Castle, trying not to think of cool breeze along his shins and his knuckles white as he gripped the wrought-iron tight enough to feel the tiny bumps biting into his skin. “No, she didn’t.” He shook his head. “Most likely she didn’t think it was relevant to your father’s murder. To be honest, I’m not sure how it would be.” It might, however, be relevant to the
something
Olivia was so certain the Duchess was hiding.

Ana took a strange, hesitant breath, and she looked like she might say something, but at that moment, a fat old maid bustled in with a tray.

“Just set it here, thank you,” Ana said as the woman trundled over. She carried a tray laden to overflowing with fresh scones that smelled like the combined glories of all three heavens, and Chris’s mind emptied of anything but his awareness of the pit of his stomach. The sour-smelling old woman took entirely too long setting out the little jars full of different jams and pouring tea into cups for them. When she turned to leave, Chris seized a scone from the tray and took his first bite before she was even halfway to the door.

He closed his eyes in appreciation, barely remembering to keep his mouth politely closed as he chewed the overlarge chunk. “Perfect,” he said. He opened his eyes to see Ana watching with a pleased smile on her lips. “Thank you,” he said. He made himself set the scone down on the saucer and cut it open like a civilized human being. “This is exactly what I wanted, thank you,” he repeated as he spread strawberry jam along the inside of the scone. Steam and a wonderful combination of aromas rose up. “I had to skip breakfast this morning and I’ve been regretting it ever since.”

“You’re welcome,” Ana said happily.

Chris took another, more dignified bite, and he watched his hostess cut open and butter her own with dainty grace. The girl seesawed so violently between noble elegance and an awkward lack thereof that he never knew what to expect from her, and either always came as a surprise. He took another look around the room, wondering if she’d chosen the furnishings herself. Everything was in pastel colours, lacy and frilly and girlish. It seemed at odds with her simple dress. Either the room or dress reflected the expectations and desires of the Duchess, he was sure, but which?

When his eyes swept over the bed, he felt renewed discomfort twist in his middle, and he winced. “Ana,” he said again, more gently than before. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe you don’t have a reputation to tarnish for your mother’s friends, but what about your own? If they hear about this, they might have their own judgements to weigh.”

But the young woman had lowered her eyes in the middle of his question, and when she spoke, her voice was filled with quiet shame. “There’s no concern. I don’t have friends,” she murmured.

He was struck dumb. That couldn’t be right. It made no sense. An Old Blooded noble daughter should have been surrounded by peers. She was hardly a poor girl out on a farm, too busy running chores for her family to ever see anyone her own age. She was hardly like
him
, too busy trying to make ends meet and taking care of someone else. But then he thought of that strangeness he had just been remarking on. How
different
she was. And how she clung to her beau like he was her sun and moon and—he realized it with a start—how she seemed to have latched herself onto
him
after barely any time at all.

He tried not to sound pitying as he simply replied, “Well, that’s a shame.”

She shot him a grateful look from under her lashes, and picked up the other half of her scone. She took a bite and chewed it in silence. “I talked to my mother after you left, yesterday,” she said finally. She shot him another look, this one less readable. He watched her pink tongue peek out between her lips to wet them. “I
really
talked to her.”

Her eyes were on him and she seemed to be waiting for a response. He made his face the picture of polite interest while he cut and buttered a second scone. “Is that so? What did you say to her, then?”

“I told her I wanted to ‘bind.” Ana cut into a new scone with a sort of ferocity that made Chris tense. “I told her I
would
‘bind. I said I wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I’d spent all my life waiting for her or Father to approve of my choices, and since it was obvious they were never going to, I was just going to start making them for myself.”

Chris couldn’t help a smile, imagining the conversation as it had taken place. “I don’t suppose she liked that very much,” he said, trying to keep his amusement at the thought from his voice. It didn’t feel right to laugh at the Duchess after what he’d just seen Olivia do to her.

Ana had no such reservations, though, and her eyes twinkled merrily as he looked up at him across the heap of scones. “No,” she said, “she didn’t.”

They sat in repressed mirth as they ate their scones. “Do you think you’ll actually do it?” Chris asked eventually.

Ana’s nod was emphatic. “I already mirrored Lowry,” she said with conviction, stirring cream and sugar into her tea. “I did it this morning after Ethan left in his huff. They’re going to be busy with Floating Castle memorial business for the next few days, but I have an appointment to go in and see them next Maerday.” She let out a deep breath, and the sound was full of satisfaction and fulfilment. “I…” Chris watched a flush spread across her powdered cheeks. She tried to hide it by picking up her teacup and cradling it in front of her face. “I always thought I’d feel horrible once I finally did this. I’d be going against Mother’s wishes. She’d be so angry at me. But I don’t. I feel brave, you know? I feel strong. I think I’m going to talk to Ethan, too. Some of the things my mother has said about him, for so long I didn’t want to consider them just because then I’d be doing what she wanted. But I have a right to talk to my own beau, and the truth is I don’t care that it’s what Mother wants. It doesn’t have anything to do with her. See…it doesn’t matter to me what she thinks, not anymore.”

She set her teacup down, but she didn’t take her hands from it. Chris stilled his own motions, watching her. She looked agitated, but as he sat there, wishing he could do something to put her at ease, some of the tension seemed to leave her shoulders and neck. She released her hold on the teacup. “Mister Buckley.” She looked up at him, eyes large. “Do you mind if I call you Christopher?”

He did mind, a bit, but he smiled anyway and told her he didn’t. If he accepted it from Olivia, he could certainly accept it from this poor girl.

“Christopher,” she said, and then retreated back into herself. She dipped her spoon into her tea and idly stirred it. “I feel as if I can trust you,” she said slowly, not taking her eyes off the teacup. “I know that might not make any sense, but I do.”

She didn’t look up at him, but she seemed to be waiting for some kind of response. Chris cleared his throat quietly. “Ah, thank you,” he said, not sure what else to say.

Ana nodded. There was another long moment where the only sound was the
clink, clink, clink
each time her spoon touched the edge of her cup. She stirred and stirred, and Chris watched fleeting glimpses of a battle being waged behind her features. When she took a deep breath to speak, her shoulders hunched upwards as if preparing for a blow. “Does the Deathsniffer think my mother killed my father?”

The question caught him so completely off guard that Chris found himself giving her the truth. “I think so. Yes.”

The girl cringed as if struck. “Yes,” she repeated his last word. “Yes, I thought so.” She took an unsteady breath. “You don’t think it was Vanessa? I was so sure it was Vanessa.”

“Miss Faraday hasn’t ruled out Miss Caldwell.” Chris chose his words delicately. “There’s definitely reason to believe it could have been her. But you’re right, the Deathsniffer considers your mother her most likely suspect.”

Ana nodded. And then she took the spoon out of the teacup, set it carefully aside, and climbed to her feet. Without saying a word, she crossed to her bedside table and opened the drawer in the front. She pulled something out and she stood, clasping whatever she’d retrieved to her chest. Then she turned and retraced her steps back to the table.

She pushed the tray of scones to one side and laid the file she was carrying on top of the newspaper. Her bottom lip was between her teeth. She breathed out a long stream of air. “My mother took this out of her office. She knew you or the Deathsniffer would look in there, so she hid it from you. She didn’t know I saw her, but I did.” She looked up at Chris with wide eyes and an unreadable expression. “Why would she do that?”

Chris reached out and gingerly took the file into his hand. He flipped open the top and scanned the first page. It was addressed to Duke Viktor val Daren and was full of phrases like
debts accumulated
and
interest owed
and
imperative that this be settled as soon as possible
and
our contract still stands.
He couldn’t make out the signature, but the wordweaver who’d composed the letter had carefully spelled out
RAYNER KOLSTON, ESQ.
underneath it.

He flipped the page. The second was very similar to the first. The third was the same, and the fourth, and the fifth. The file seemed to be stuffed with evidence of the val Daren family owing Old Debts, and the identity of the creditor who’d lent the money to them in the first place.

And Evelyn val Daren had hidden it.

His excitement was growing with each page he turned until he reached the middle of the file. This page was not a carefully weaved official notice, but rather a handwritten personal letter with a very familiar salutation.

Evie
, it began.

I can’t possibly thank you enough for your generous donation at the meeting last night. I had never expected to see such largesse, no matter what our shared history might be. Knowing what you do for the future of Tarland will reward you better than I ever could, and so I will not attempt to do so.

I cannot tell you just how thrilled I am to see you take this cause as your own. These are dark times, Evie, and we have need of every soldier who can take up a weapon and fight. Your weapon may be “merely” your husband’s deep pockets, but many different sorts of soldiers are needed for this war to be won. I know both your father and James would be proud of the choices you are making, the stand you have decided to take.

I hope that your first meeting with us will not be your last.

All my love,

HC

Postscript: This may be unnecessary to say, but it would be best, I think, if the Duke is not aware of your involvement. There will be a time when there will be no need for such secrecy, but there are many who do not yet understand how dire this situation is. Your husband is not well known for his realism.

I will thank you in advance for your discretion.

“Do you think it’ll be useful?” Ana asked suddenly.

Chris jumped and his heartbeat surged to racing. Quickly, he closed the file and tried to decide where to put it where it wouldn’t be noticed. “Yes,” he said aloud while he did so. “I think Miss Faraday would very much like to see this.”