The Pawn of Isis, page 11
part #2 of Klaereon Scroll Series
"You cheated!" Galt's voice wavered, sweat breaking out on his brow.
"I did not. The weapons were pistols, but not in the traditional sense. It was a matter of who fell first. Apparently, you." Carlo pitched forward. "As you see, I'm falling second."
George rushed forward to steady himself. "You poisoned yourself?"
"This was a matter of honor. We each had to have an equal chance of success or failure. I'm not my grandfather." This last he said mostly to himself. "George? There are three identical vials in my coat pocket. Please get them."
George placed the vials in Carlo's hands. Carlo downed one. Galt sloppily drank the other. "Give the third to Mr. Titus, please. I worry about those gloves." Carlo closed his eyes. George helped him up.
"This changes nothing between us," said Galt.
"This changes everything. There is no question of honor. Can you be vigilant, unrelentingly vigilant? That's what it will take with me as your enemy." By god, he sounded like his grandfather. He supposed he had to, a bit.
Titus helped his brother into the carriage. Carlo leaned on George. "Shall I fetch the doctor?"
"No," Carlo said. "I will recover. My grandfather insisted I become somewhat resistant to poison."
"What does that mean?"
"It means my diet as a child was unusual."
"I don't know if any woman would be worth this."
"Some day, George, if you're very lucky"—Carlo patted him on the shoulder—"you'll find your own woman to poison yourself over."
CHAPTER TEN
Hathersage, May, 1841
Octavia drummed her fingers on the carriage seat. At Galt House, banners of mourning crepe hung at the windows. To Octavia, this new custom seemed ostentatious. "Our condolences will ring false to Atreus and his family."
Beside her, Drusus glanced out the window. The day was unsuited to such a somber task. Flowers danced in the garden and the house was surrounded by an emerald lawn. "It is necessary," said Drusus, "if not pleasant. As unlikely as it may seem, maybe you and Galt will be able to broker a peace your fathers could not." Drusus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am overdue to visit Helen anyway."
"It shows a greatness of character on your part that you care about Helen after all which has passed between your families."
"She and Antonius have been used poorly."
"I am merely surprised to hear you advocating on the Galts' behalf."
"You yourself should think through how the mistakes of youth cannot color our entire lives."
"Touché," said Octavia. She checked the ribbons of her bonnet to make sure her bow was still tilted a little to the left. "Do you truly believe Atreus would be open to the possibility of our families ending our enmity?"
"Whether he is or not, I would admire an attempt on your part."
"I will take your comments under advisement. For now, our call will concern social propriety rather than diplomacy." Octavia lurched forward as the carriage stopped, and Drusus placed a hand on her arm. She patted it. "Thanks for coming."
"It's what consorts do," he said.
Octavia kissed him on the cheek. "You're a very good consort."
Outside, servants dressed in black livery and white periwigs waited to assist Drusus and Octavia out of the carriage. One of the liveried servants offered Octavia an arm down. Drusus followed.
Standing in front of the doorway of Galt House, somberly dressed, were Atreus and Helen Galt. Their father had died a mere month ago. Octavia approached the Galt siblings, with whom she had grown up, with whom she'd attended the same social events, both magical and mundane, since her earliest memories. The unpleasant duty of greeting the Klaereons, whom the Galts historically despised, would only fall to the eldest siblings, so Clytemnestra and Titus were absent.
"Won't you come in?" Helen asked.
"I'm sorry for your loss." Octavia liked Helen. When they were growing up, Helen had been lively and sharp, quick to call her brother Atreus to task for his mistakes. After the scandal with Antonius Claudian, her light had dimmed, and now she was trapped by misfortune to remain at Galt House.
"Thank you," said Atreus stiffly. "Won't you come inside?"
They passed through the butternut hallway full of the crests of magical families, past the Chinese drawing room decorated by one of the relatives who had traded on the Silk Road, and into a more innocuous morning room, with a vista onto a cultivated garden. The rich green velvets of the furniture were rendered brighter by black material draped over the windows.
Helen glanced at a cart with tea, some delicate pastries, and some small sandwiches. "Would you care for refreshment?"
"Do not trouble yourself," said Octavia. "We have no plans to stay long. We know this is a difficult time."
Helen took a seat placidly. The change in her startled Octavia.
Atreus flexed his hands nervously. "It is odd," he said to Octavia. "You and I both now head our families, both of us so young. Who would have imagined it? Our fathers both gone."
Octavia wasn't exactly sure what to say next. "Regrettably so," she commented, although it was not really regrettable in either case. Agamemnon was brutal, Caius manipulative. Even though Octavia disliked Atreus, she wouldn't have wished his father on anyone.
Helen drifted over to the garden window and Drusus followed her. That was to be expected, given Drusus' sympathetic nature. He was a good man who took too much on himself, and would shoulder Antonius' and the rest of his family's transgressions as his own, especially since the rest of the Claudians would not talk about Antonius.
"Clearly, you thought ahead to such a day," Atreus said. "A husband, two sons, both of them Bound. It's excellent you setting such a good example for the town and the families. I find myself behind. I am still single, and without an heir."
"These things will come to you in time." Her words were edged with smugness; uncharitable of her, the tip of the old Octavia, whom she would prefer not to surface ever again.
"I am interested in sounding you out. You may be aware my father was interested in an alliance between our families."
"I am aware." An alliance had been proposed between herself and Atreus for a very brief time. Her father had never truly entertained it, but he did enjoy dangling Agamemnon on a string. Was Atreus attempting to make her uncomfortable? Wise, strategic and typical of him.
"I regret our alliance was not meant to be," Atreus continued, "but I do wonder what the status of your sister is at this moment?"
"Lucy?" Octavia was genuinely surprised at his interest. To give herself a moment, she glanced at Helen and Drusus, deep in whispered conversation. Lucy had never had suitors clamoring for her. Octavia had rather hoped she would develop an interest in Carlo, but they had come to nothing in the end.
"You are interested in pursuing Lucy?" Octavia made her voice carry. Her words had the desired effect.
"No," said Drusus, stepping away from his conversation at the window. "Lucy is unable to entertain a proposal at this time. I do not think, Galt, you understand about Lucy or her altered circumstances."
The conversation between Octavia and Atreus faded into the background as Drusus approached Helen, who was staring purposefully at the garden. Drusus remembered the roses were her hobby. He cleared his throat.
"I am sorry for your loss." He meant both her father and what had gone before.
"I appreciate your condolences," said Helen, still staring at the garden. "Losing someone is never easy, not even when they've been ill for a long time."
"His illness was difficult for you?" Of course it was. The family must never miss an opportunity to remind her of what had happened, he was almost certain of it.
"It wasn't the burden you suppose," said Helen. "Clytemnestra took her turn at nursing. Atreus kept him company a great deal."
"But still," said Drusus, "most of it would fall to you."
Helen smiled slightly, a smile pulling the unfortunate small eyes and beaky nose together pleasantly. "Well, it's over now." As if she realized she shouldn't be smiling, she swallowed and blinked, straightening her face, hiding the spark of intellect. "Life moves on."
Drusus didn't know if he could approach this matter delicately, but he would try. "Would you like me to…that is, if there is anyone I could contact for you about your father's death, or if you would like me to talk to anyone on your behalf?"
Helen raised her fist to her mouth, then forced it down in an effort to compose herself. She knew what he meant and to whom he was obliquely referring. A sharp stab of sympathy lodged in Drusus' chest.
"I appreciate your thought. There is no one."
"You are certain?"
"He would be better off not knowing about this."
"He would want to know."
"I do not think it wise he does."
Drusus lowered his voice. "Surely, things could be different for you now. I could help you."
Her eyes widened. "My family disapproves, and I am most certain yours still does as well. I know you mean well."
"Antonius has been rather clear regarding his opinion of our families."
Helen glanced over Drusus' shoulder. "Your wife and my brother seem to be quite animated."
"You are interested in pursuing Lucy?" Octavia's voice carried.
Drusus' eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me."
"Lucy is an eligible match, Octavia. I am as well, especially now that I am head of family." Atreus stared at Octavia, willing her to think his way. "I would like to ask your permission—"
Octavia opened her mouth, but Drusus spoke instead. "No," said Drusus, stepping away from his conversation with Helen. "Lucy is unable to entertain a proposal from anyone at this time. I do not think, Galt, you understand about Lucy or her altered circumstances."
"She has a certain reputation, I know. My family is interested in a wide variety of magical pursuits, and I see Lucy's peculiarities as assets."
"Peculiarities?" echoed Octavia.
"Her interest in anatomy, and her excellence in blood magic should be highly valued points in favor of an alliance with her."
"My sister is not a purchase, Atreus." Octavia had to admit, he was a persuasive flatterer when he was in service to his own ego.
"I assure you I value the qualities others do not." Atreus' intense gaze did not waiver.
"If Lucy were inclined toward you, I would forbid it," said Drusus.
Atreus turned his attention to Drusus. "I would expect nothing less from you, Claudian, given our families' previous interactions. You will find my intentions are more honorable than your brother's were."
Helen blanched. Atreus proved once again he was emotionally deaf. He had no idea Octavia only smiled so broadly when she was most offended. Drusus stood behind his wife. He knew.
"You are not helping your case with me," said Drusus.
"Happily, this is not your decision, Claudian, as you are not of any importance. I am speaking to the head of the Klaereon family."
Small bits of electricity flickered in Drusus' hair.
Octavia stood. "We really should be leaving you. Helen looks very tired."
"She is fine." Atreus stood with her. "At least consider my suit."
"I am tired," said Helen.
Atreus' look would have withered the whole of the outside garden.
Octavia smoothed the wrinkles in her dress. "I see this as entirely Lucy's choice, not mine. I won't stop you from pressing your suit, but I cannot encourage you to be optimistic."
Atreus attempted a pleasant smile, but showed too much teeth for it to be effective. "That's very modern of you."
"Times are changing. This is 1841, after all."
When they were alone again in the carriage, Drusus spoke. "Encouraging him was a mistake."
Octavia straightened her gloves. "Lucy has no time or inclination for marriage at all, let alone marriage to Atreus Galt. She will cut him and there will be an end to it. Were you not saying before we should extend trust? We now have made an attempt."
"I did not imagine Lucy would be the olive branch you were willing to proffer."
"You'll see," said Octavia, as Drusus handed her back into the carriage. "I'm right. Lucy will refuse him."
"Do understand," said Octavia, as Lucy examined Atreus Galt's calling card, "I do not expect you to say yes to Atreus Galt. Still, it is your decision."
"I will do what I feel is right, naturally," said Lucy. "Tell Mr. Galt I will see him."
Octavia smiled. "Try to let him down nicely."
Lucy shook her head. "I will be frank with him, as he deserves." She opened a textbook and read until McAllistair returned with her visitor.
Octavia took a deep breath.
Atreus Galt was not the sort of suitor to come with flowers, doubly so as he was in mourning. "Good afternoon," he said. "Octavia. Lucy."
"Good afternoon, Atreus.
Lucy closed her book. "Weren't you saying, Octavia, that Gregorius needed looking in on?"
"I can wait," said Octavia, her voice clipped.
"This conversation will not take long," said Lucy. "I will join you soon."
Octavia stood. "Very well. Thank you for visiting, Atreus." Octavia slipped out of the room.
Lucy and Atreus sat alone, his steel eyes staring at her, her cool ones meeting his gaze. "You have no concern regarding propriety?"
"None."
Galt nodded. "I won't waste your time or insult your intelligence with flattery. Your sister has told you my intentions?"
"Yes," said Lucy. She placed the book on the small table beside her.
"Octavia does not think my proposal will be welcomed by you. I know you are not romantic, Lucy. You have changed since you returned from Europe, and I understand your shyness has been replaced by the unrelenting pursuit of knowledge. Medicine, correct?"
"In a sense," said Lucy.
"I want my future wife to be intelligent and analytical. I have several compelling reasons to suggest our match is a wise one, and I will appeal to your sense of logic. You and I are evenly matched in terms of emotions."
"I agree," said Lucy.
"You have decided not to accept me, then? Because you told Octavia you would leave the room. You plan to dismiss me?"
"Am I wrong in believing you might have information you would use to leverage a yes from me?" Lucy folded her hands in her lap.
"Where have you heard this?"
"Helen tells me so."
Atreus cleared his throat and spoke again. "I do have certain information about your sister which would make it wiser for you to marry me."
"Ah." Lucy adjusted her shawl. "Can you tell me the nature of this information?"
"It intimates the guilt of your sister in the death of your father." Atreus waited.
Lucy appreciated his composure. "I see. I find myself wondering about your own father's death. Are you guilty there?"
"I won't be distracted with some sort of red herring—"
Lucy raised her hand. "It seems a reasonable question. Your reputation is ruthless. You should be flattered I noticed."
Atreus rubbed his neck. "I did not orchestrate my father's death. I admit I thought about doing so on occasion."
"We all do," said Lucy.
Atreus laughed. "Not an unexpected crime for your sister or you?"
"Not unexpected. I have decided to marry you."
Galt leaned forward on the edge of his chair. "You have?"
"There are many reasons to marry. You suit my purposes. What other secrets are you keeping, Atreus? What other things will I know as your partner?"
Atreus studied her. "Unrelenting, aren't you? Marry me, Lucy, and I'll tell you how to keep all my brothers and sisters in check, as well as your own. Helen, for example. She is hardly one to talk about secrets after what she did."
"Is it true then?" Lucy asked. "What they say about Helen?"
"It is more complicated than that," said Atreus. "When you marry me, I'll tell you. A sort of bridal gift."
"Why not?" said Lucy. "You know, if you try to do anything to my sister, I will kill you most horribly."
"Since we are of like mind regarding matrimony, these threats are rhetorical on both our parts." Atreus extended his hand for Lucy to shake. "We are a match. Shall I go to your sister?"
"No. I will find her in the nursery and tell her."
"Good." Atreus smiled. "I am most pleased."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hathersage, April, 1842
After the duel, George returned Carlo to the inn, and Carlo slept. When he woke, he was merely queasy. He stumbled down to the common room, his carpet bag slung over one shoulder. "Good morning, Mr. Hamwich."
"You are better, sir?"
"Better might be a stretch, but I am alive, and I will take it." He fished in his pocket. "I need to settle my bill."
"Indeed, sir." Mr. Hamwich eyed the coins Carlo placed on the counter. "My best wishes to you and your lady wife."
"Thank you." Carlo leaned his head on an elbow he placed on the bar. "The scope of what Lucy and I have done is beginning to set in. Any advice for a newly married man?"
Mr. Hamwich snorted. "All men know our good wives are always right. It is the most golden advice my own father gave me." He offered Carlo a beefy, calloused hand.
Carlo shook it firmly. "I understand gentlemen generally don't come to pubs. If I continue to visit, I hope you will continue to consider me like you, not a gentleman?"
"From what my George tells me, Mr. Borgia, you aren't like any of us."
"Venetian?"
"Daring."
Carlo was flustered. Embarrassed, he backed out of the door, almost tripping over a chair. Arnie and Evie gave him another ride up to the house, which Octavia might not have found terribly appropriate, but Carlo found more comfortable. Carlo knocked on the front door of the house, and McAllistair opened the door, admitting him again into the entrance hall. The stained glass in the early morning lit Carlo in green.
McAllistair studied him stoically. "Congratulations on surviving your duel, Signor."
