The Rose Master (17 page)

He shook his head. “No, I cannot leave. I am not allowed off the grounds.”

“But Ms. Simple, Mr. Keery, and Dora? Why can’t they leave?”

“The wraith does not allow the women off the grounds. They know too much already. Mr. Keery, though . . . you’ve seen what he’s like. He is not a free man. The creature has sunk its claws deeply into him.”

“But sir, how can it prevent you all from leaving?”

He sighed in irritation. “I’m not lying to you, Anne. You’ve felt it yourself when it attacked you on the stairs. If the creature wanted to stop us, to kill us even, it would.”

“But to live in this fear . . .”

I couldn’t even imagine waking to the seeping cold day after day for years. I’d only been in the manor a few weeks, and I feared I would never feel warm again.

“It was never quite this horrible. We had to watch our words and remain in the house, but for the most part, the five of us managed. That’s why I wrote to Lady Caldwell to request a maid. She was the only one I still had a tepid contact with in the outside world. Things had quieted down into a sort of routine, so I could consider hiring someone to help Ms. Simple and Dora. I was wrong, as I tend to be when it comes to this creature.

“The day the letter arrived announcing your appointment, the cook was dragged from her bed and clawed to unconsciousness. I should have realized the danger, I should have sent a note immediately to prevent you from coming, but I didn’t. I sent the coach three weeks later instead, to scoop you out of safety and into this frozen nightmare.”

I looked at Lord Grey’s face, at the youth and strength that lay hidden beneath layers of ashen worry and pale guilt.

“Sir, you couldn’t have known.”

His lips curled. “Right. That the wraith allowed the coach to fetch you should have been warning enough. It wanted you here, within its reach.”

There was a moment of heavy silence before a thought made me speak.

“Sir, do you think it would have behaved this way with anyone who had taken my place, or is it me in particular who’s causing all these tantrums?”

A genuine smile filled his face. “Tantrums. I like that, that’s exactly what they are.” He placed a hand in one of his pockets and brought out the smoky crystal I’d retrieved from under the bookshelf. He raised it to my eyes.

“Do you know what this is?”

“A crystal, sir.”

“Do you know what it’s for?”

“No, sir.”

He shifted it, so the light from one of the lamps could play against its surface.

“This is a type of container. It stored energy so it could be accessed in a hurry. A last resort for an exhausted magician. I have two or three of these lying about, but I’d lost sight of this one until you found it . . . and broke it.”

“Sir, honest, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean to do it, Anne, but you did. Just by touching it.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“It’s not an easy thing to explain. I’d never encountered it myself, although, I have heard about it. I began to suspect when the mirror in the dining room reacted with such violence to your touch.”

“What? What did you suspect?”

“That you were not normal. That there was a seed of power in you, waiting to crack through its casing. And then the crystal proved it. Let me explain: a regular person would have picked it up without damage to herself or to the crystal, and neither of them would have been the worse for wear. If a magician held it, her energy would substitute the one already inside, but the crystal would not have been damaged. When you touched it, however, you erased the energy that slept inside it. You smothered it, like an errant fire. The crystal is worthless now.”

Somewhere deep inside me, a chime rang, a note of dawning comprehension. I closed my eyes and listened.

“Anne,” Lord Grey continued, “you are something different. A rare being, even rarer than a magician. You are the opposite—you are a Grounder.”

I inhaled deeply. “A what, sir?”

“A Grounder. You harness energy and neutralize it. I think you have an inkling of what I’m talking about.”

“But, sir, that’s absurd. I’ve never done anything special, nothing that was not normal.”

He leaned forward, his hands on the chair in front of him, and held my eyes. “Nothing strange has ever happened to you?”

I opened my mouth to assure him of that, but a vision of black feathers on snow, of translucent wings collapsing in shimmering heaps filled my eyes.

“Some birds . . . fell . . . around me. And moths.” I gripped my trembling hands together.

“Ah,” Lord Grey said. “You erased their power to fly.”

“But I did nothing to cause it! I didn’t even realize what was happening!”

“It doesn’t matter. Your power is untrained, like mine was, and it strikes out as it wishes, with or without your consent.”

“But that happened recently, I’d never experienced it before.”

“Our powers develop as they like, when they like. It’s possible that yours lay curled inside you, waiting for the right moment to emerge. Waiting until you were ready to accept them and use them as you should.”

And the right moment had been while I cleared snow in Caldwell House’s courtyard? No, perhaps whatever abilities I possessed had known I’d be sent here, to Rosewood. The thought made my stomach churn.

“What you are is also why my skin burns your own, you know. We are true opposites.”

I shrugged. “Well, I don’t know what to do with any of it, sir.”

“You’ll learn to wield the power soon enough.”

“I don’t want to learn. I want to leave it alone.”

“Anne, have you heard nothing of what I’ve shared with you?”

I huffed. “I’ve heard plenty. I think you are not the best example to follow.”

My eyes widened as the words left my mouth. Bugger.

Lord Grey turned his head and eyed me like a suspicious lizard.

“Hmm. Good thing I need you.”

My voice was dry. “Need me, sir? Why?”

“You’re going to help me banish this wraith.”

sixteen

He refused to say anything else on the subject.

“I’m exhausted, Anne, and by the looks of those charming bruises under your eyes, I suspect you are also. I think we should both try to get some rest.”

I stood. A quake of dizziness shook me, and I grabbed on to the chair behind me. Lord Grey watched me with narrowed eyes, but did not attempt to help me. It was irritating to admit he was right; if I didn’t sink down into sleep I would not make it through whatever the day’s long hours held in store.

“Go rest, Anne. The last thing I need is you collapsing.”

“Yes, sir. Is my room safe? I’ve been bolting the door at night, but I’m not sure that’s enough.”

“No, it’s not enough, but I doubt anything will bother you. The creature expended a large amount of energy bullying me around last night, and it has probably retreated to its watery bed to regain its powers. You’ll be safe, Anne,” he said as I stepped over the room’s threshold. “But, just in case, if anything happens, scream. Loudly.”

He clicked the door closed behind me before I could utter another word.

Everything looked different in the pale morning light. I shook my head, asking myself if I truly believed all Lord Grey had said. My head fought against it. But I had experienced things I couldn’t explain. I had seen and heard things that weren’t there, and I’d been attacked by hands I couldn’t touch, let alone remove. Whether I liked it or not, doubt was falling away, layer by layer.

As I placed my feet on the main hall’s stone tiles, I traced their intricate designs with my eyes, so delicate, so subtle. I recalled how they had wriggled like worms under my hands.

“I mean you no harm,” I whispered.

I passed the dining room, but retraced my steps and entered, turning toward the corner where the mirror hung suspended like a sheet of water. My hands tingled as I neared it, my eyes steady on my own reflection.

What lay coiled inside me that could make the glass strike out like a cornered animal? Where could it have come from? Not from my mother, or at least, not that I knew about, and certainly not from my father. But Lord Grey had also seemed to have no extending branch of magical ancestors. Perhaps he was right, it was just a talent handed out as randomly as blue eyes or red hair. In all honesty, I could have done without it. So far, all my wondrous power had done was antagonize inanimate objects, almost get me killed twice, and make a wraith long for my quick demise.

I sighed and left the dining room to slump off to my room. The silence in the manor was thick, and it had me listening for impending screams. I should be getting ready to work, not preparing to sleep. What would Ms. Simple say? And Dora; who knew the things she’d imagine! But they’d been the master’s orders, and frankly, if God himself had come down and commanded me to work, I would have stuck my tongue out at him and gone to sleep.

I woke hours later to the golden rays of the afternoon sun resting on my bedclothes. A sense of panic filled me as I realized I’d slept most of the day away, all my chores forgotten. I dressed in a hurry and left my room.

“Well, look who’s up,” Dora said as she walked toward me from her room. She smiled, all teeth and gums, reminding me of a growling dog. “Lord Grey came down earlier to notify the rest of us lowly servants that we should allow you to sleep, since you had a long night. Mighty peculiar, if you ask me.”

My cheeks warmed, but I kept my eyes on Dora’s face. “We were talking. About,” I swept my arm around, “all of this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you were.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Dora.”

She chuckled. “No, of course not. Not when you have the master on your side.”

“That’s enough, Dora,” Ms. Simple interrupted as she stepped out of her room. She looked tired, her eyes betraying her troubled mind. “Don’t you think there’s sufficient hostility in this house?”

Dora huffed and left the servant’s quarters, anger trailing behind her.

“Don’t pay her any mind, Anne. I’m afraid Dora is feeling the sting of jealousy.”

“Jealousy? Over what?”

Ms. Simple smiled. “Regardless of what she says, she’s always had a fondness for the young master, ever since she first met him, years ago. Even Miss Bellingham, God rest her soul, noticed Dora’s infatuation the times she stayed at Rosewood. Of course, Lord Grey has never paid too much attention to it. On the contrary, the majority of the time, he does his best to avoid the poor girl. She can be rather frustrating, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” She took my hand in hers. “So, you see, Anne, for you to earn all this attention from Lord Grey must be a bitter tonic for Dora.”