To Rescue a Rogue (17 page)

There were many hours before then, however, so she tried to work on
The Ghastly Ghoul of Castle Cruel.
That seemed ground for healthy amusement.

She wrote down as much as she could remember of their inventions at the Yeoman's Arms, then remembered saying the Tower could be a model for their castle. She drew a plan along those lines and ended up quite pleased with it.

She marked dungeons, torture chambers, and secret passages through which Anne Whyte could wander in her ghostly disguise, and in which she could encounter the scorpion—without a Y, the headless knight—without an Y, and the eyeless, mad monk.

She was smiling, but aching with sadness, too. She knew now that much of that creativity had been fueled by opium. At other times Dare seemed somber, and he was often tense.

Which was the real Dare Debenham?

Whichever, she now had reason to spend time with him. She glanced at the clock and began to add to their cast of characters.

Anne Whyte
—smiling, she added,
Virgyn.

Canute Ornottocanute, Lost Duke of Dawlish. Temporarily deceased.

Ethel the Ready, gallant serving maid
.

With a chuckle, she added:
Ethel the Unready, her lazy cousin, and Halfacanute, the duke's midget twin brother.

Halfacanute had actually been a king of England, though she was sure the name had meant something noble back then. She couldn't wait to share this idiocy with Dare.

Jancy knocked and came in. “What has you amused?”

Mara shared her embellishments and Jancy laughed. “What madcaps you both are.”

“Oh, I do hope so.” Mara impulsively asked, “Would you read the cards for me?”

Probably only Mara and Simon knew that Jancy could tell fortunes with cards. It was part of her secret heritage, from her early life among a gypsy family.

“Oh, I don't know….”

“Please. I need some guidance.”

“The cards are cryptic, Mara. They're easily misunderstood.”

“They told you Simon wouldn't die in the duel.”

“And predicted his injury, though I didn't want to believe that.”

“So they tell the truth. I want to know.”

Jancy bit her lip.

“Please!”

Jancy sighed. “Very well.”

She left and returned with a lovely silk bag. When she opened it, however, she took out a dirty, greasy, rag-edged pack. Mara couldn't help but wrinkle her nose.

“A present from the woman who taught me,” Jancy said, sorting through them. She showed Mara the Queen of Clubs. “This is you. Clubs are outgoing, determined, and focused on their goals.”

“She looks like a shifty-eyed piece to me.”

Jancy smiled. “These are homemade, but perhaps you are a bit shifty at times.”

“I prefer to think of it as cunning. What are you?”

“A diamond. Fair in color, hasty in nature.”

“Why did you hesitate before saying that?” Mara asked.

“I had this exact conversation with Simon. The night before the duel.”

Mara touched her friend's hand. “I'm sorry.”

“No, it's all right. Just peculiar. I'm not sure we should do this.”

“Do you think the cards
cause
things to happen?”

Jancy shook herself. “No, of course not. Very well. Cut the pack a few times.”

Mara wasn't keen on even touching the cards, but she did so. “It's a small deck.”

“We only use the top thirty-two.” She spread the cards roughly on the table. “Pick eight.”

Mara did so, then three more times, building eight piles of four. Jancy then set each pile out and turned over the top card of the first pile.

“The king of clubs.” Jancy smiled up at Mara. “A good loyal man in your life, and that's true. That's Simon's card.” She turned the next one. “The queen of diamonds. That's me. This feels like an excellent spread. Next, the queen of clubs. Everyone in place.”

“Except Dare,” Mara pointed out. “What card would he be?”

“From the way Simon talks of him in the past, the king of hearts. A joyous, generous man.”

Mara nodded, delighted by that image, but wishing Berkstead hadn't chosen the queen of hearts for his message. It soiled this, but at least she'd heard nothing from him since.

Jancy turned the next card, the nine of diamonds, and frowned.

“What?” Mara demanded.

“This turned up for Simon, too. It says to beware of sharp objects and firearms, and to be prepared for shocks.”

Unease ran down Mara's spine, but she said, “Neither Dare nor I am likely to be involved with blades or firearms, and it doesn't predict death, does it?”

“No.” Jancy turned the next card and smiled at Mara. “The eight of hearts—love from a light-haired man.”

“Excellent.”

The next card was the eight of diamonds and Jancy pondered. “This suggests brevity of some sort. A short journey, perhaps.”

Mara made herself say it. “Or a short-lived love?”

Jancy met her eyes. “That, too.” She turned over the nine of spades. “I'm sorry. Loss and thwarted plans.”

Mara was tempted to sweep the cards from the table. “You're right. We shouldn't have done this. What's the last card?”

It was the ten of diamonds. “That's not much help,” Jancy said. “It foretells change, perhaps a change of home.”

“That would be when I marry. There's no other reason I'd leave Brideswell.”

“True.”

The question of who Mara would marry remained unanswered. When Jancy moved to gather the cards, Mara said, “There's no more? Ever the optimist, I hope for better.”

Jancy's hands hovered. “The bottom cards are supposed to predict the more distant future.”

“Let's see, then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jancy flipped the piles over. The very first one was topped by the king of hearts.

Mara looked at Jancy. “That has to be good, yes?”

Jancy was smiling. “It's wonderful. It seems to say that there will be problems but Dare will be yours in the end.”

Mara let out a breath she'd been unaware of holding. “What of the rest?”

“The ten of hearts. Lucky in love. The nine of clubs. More good fortune, especially in business or legal matters. The ace of diamonds—good news. The queen of spades—a widow.”

“Not me, I assume,” Mara said.

“No, but it is a warning card. The next card might add something.” She turned it. “The seven of spades. Difficult decisions. All I can say is beware of widows.” She turned the next card, the eight of spades. “Disappointments.” Quickly she turned up the last and smiled. “The seven of hearts—wishes fulfilled.”

“So in the end all is well?” Mara asked.

Jancy gathered the cards. “If you believe in it.”

“Don't you?”

Jancy slid them carefully back into their pouch. “Yes, I do.”

“I don't suppose you could do a reading for Dare, could you?”

“No.”

“Can't, or won't?”

“Won't. It's not right to pry into other people's lives, Mara. Be content with what you have. It seems your destiny is with Dare and it will be a happy one.”

“With problems along the way.”

“That can't surprise you.”

“No,” Mara said. “And at least sharp objects and guns are unlikely here in the heart of London.”

“It can mean any kind of serious problem if it's unexpected.”

“Not opium then, and I can't see how anything could be more serious than that.” Mara was whistling into the wind and knew it.

“Truly, Mara, this was an excellent spread,” Jancy said. “All will be well.”

Mara hugged her. “Thank you. Did you want something?”

“Help with fashion. Laura's sent magazines so that I'll have some ideas before we go to the mantua-maker.”

“Lovely,” Mara said, grateful for a diversion.

 

Assessing the latest designs—and laughing over some of the more absurd—passed the time until dinner. Mara changed her gown and went down, praying that Dare join them. It seemed to her that it would be proof that all would be well.

He did, and even gave an amusing account of the children's reactions to the volcanic eruption. Pierre had been thrilled. Delphie had clung to Dare, but seemed to have enjoyed it, too. “Not a delicate female, all in all,” he said.

“What of you?” Mara asked. “Were you thrilled?”

“Tolerably. It's well done. Simon, we need to take Mara there before she erupts herself.” His smiling eyes took any sting out of it.

“Tomorrow?” Mara said. “No, it's Sunday. And Monday we go to the mantua-maker's. That could take all day.”

Jancy groaned.

“Tuesday, then.”

“I don't see why not,” Simon said. “And I confess, I want to see this wonder myself. By then, we should be at Marlowe House, however.”

Mara almost gasped. She was frantically seeking an objection when Jancy said, “Are the pipes still there?”

“Yes, but the gas is turned off.”

“All the same, Simon, I don't like it. Can't they be removed?”

“It'll make the devil of a mess.” But then he said, “Of course, if you wish.”

Mara could breathe again, but she was aware now of how short her stay in this house might be, and here she felt so close to Dare.

After dinner Simon proposed whist. Naturally, Mara and Dare became partners, which thrilled her out of all proportion to the situation. Whist was an excellent choice, however, being interesting and free of dangers. Sitting as Dare's partner also made it easy for Mara to keep an eye on him. She was ready to complain of tiredness if he showed strain.

She was bracing to do that when a rubber ended and Jancy rang for tea. Dare immediately rose as if restless, but he didn't leave. He turned to Mara. “Don't you play the harp?”

“It's her only accomplishment,” Simon commented.

Dare's eyes stayed on her. “No. Will you play for us if I have it brought in?”

Mara was smitten with sudden shyness, but she agreed and sent for her finger pads. Being shy made no sense. She'd played in company for years and here her audience would be friends and family.

Dare had requested this, however, so she must be perfect.

And what other accomplishments did he see in her? She could not sing or draw well. Her handwriting was higgledy-piggledy. She was a good dancer; had he noticed that at the wedding?

When the harp was wheeled in, she tested it and then sat to play, fearing her hands would be too unsteady, too weak, even. She looked away from her audience and soon the music flowed.

Eventually she glanced at Dare. His eyes were closed, but it might be with pleasure, so she played for him alone, trying to send the rippling music into his distressed mind.

When she looked to the side she saw Jancy and Simon leaning together on the sofa, so naturally drawn to each other by familiar love. Oh, to be like that with Dare, she thought as she returned her gaze to the strings. The longing grew in her until it stole all power from her fingers.

The others stirred to look at her.

“I'm sorry. Lack of practice. My fingers cramped.”

Dare rose and came to her. “Angel music. Thank you.”

Mara prayed her blush could be taken for modesty. “As Simon said, my only true accomplishment.”

“And as I said, no.”

“Then what are the others?” she asked with a smile.

“Begging for compliments again?”

“As I said before, a lady can never receive too many.”

“What about we poor fellows?” Simon asked from where he lounged on the sofa. “Unappreciated to a man.”

Mara had forgotten anyone else was in the room. Gathering her wits, she surveyed both men boldly. “On the contrary. I see two fine specimens, in full vigor of manhood and beauty. Noble souls…”

“Warriors for truth and justice,” Jancy contributed.

“Tested by fire.”

“Wounded in the cause!”

“Destined for greatness. Need we go on?” Mara asked.

Simon was laughing. “Spare our blushes.”

“When a lady says that,” Mara pointed out, “she
is
begging for more.”