City of Ruin, page 14
With a sigh, she rises to her feet, running her hands down her apron. My eyes fix on the right side of her chest. “The purple patch,” I say. “You said he protects you. That’s how he does it—how he claims you as his.” Before, it seemed inhuman to mark them in such a way, overtly boastful and conceited even. But if what Prudy says is true, and this estate is so different, then Blackburn’s name would no doubt keep his servants safe. Her silence is all the answer I need, and the fear that registered on the bandits’ faces in the woods is proof enough.
“Come,” she says, and motions for me to rise from the bath. “The water is cooling. You must stay warm.”
The water cascades down my body as I stand, and a shiver runs through me. I think of the draft coming from the passageway I’d found, but Prudy drapes a blanket around my shoulders and I melt into its heavy warmth before I can think to ask her about it.
“You should get some rest.” Prudy stokes the fire, but I barely hear her as I consider what other holes exist in my mind—what other fictions and fantasies have shaped my thoughts and feelings about Blackburn and this place.
“What of his wives? You said we are not to speak of them, but I’ve heard—”
“His wives?” Prudy pauses, poker in hand.
“There are tales of their horrible endings throughout the city—stories about the terrible things Blackburn has done, that he killed them.”
“Well,” she starts with a huff of discontent, and puts the poker back in its place. “I can’t say much for all the rumors, but I will say this.” She holds my gaze, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “Mistress Blackburn—Paige’s mother—did meet a tragic end, as did Miss Knightly, but it was not the master’s doing, no matter how much he blames himself for them both.”
My heart flutters with surprise. “Blames himself?”
Prudy waves my impending questions away. “That’s all I’ll say about that. They aren’t my stories to tell.”
“But Mistress Blackburn was his first wife?” Prudy had all but said it, but I must know for certain.
She nods. “Yes, she was the love of his life.”
“And Miss Knightly?” I press, praying Prudy will give me at least one more piece of the puzzle.
“Miss Knightly was supposed to be a solution, but she became part of Master Greyson’s curse instead.”
My head tilts of its own accord. “His curse?”
“That’s enough, now,” she says swiftly, and rises to her feet with an achy groan. “Come on now.” She gestures to the seat in front of the fire.
“Wait,” I say stubbornly, entitled to this explanation at least. “I need you to answer one more thing.”
With a huff and a resigned droop of her shoulders, Prudy looks at me, waiting.
“Why did you bring me the purple dress? He was so angry when he saw me in it. I thought it was a cruel joke.”
Prudy’s expression softens and her eyes fill with regret. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she admits. “I apologize, miss. Perhaps I am tired of the past being shut away. For Paige’s sake, and Master Greyson’s, I wish we could all move on. But I know his burden is great, and I should never have pushed him. Especially after what happened to Miss Knightly, he isn’t ready, even if he’s trying to be.”
“What is his burden, Prudy?” I say quietly, willing her to tell me.
“Uh-uh.” She shakes her head. “No more questions. Talk to the master about it. I’ve probably said too much as it is.”
More secrecy. More questions—I’m practically drowning in them, but as Prudy pulls my comforter down, I know she won’t answer any more of them tonight. “Sit by the fire while your hair dries,” she commands, and I do as she requests, curling up in a chair close to the flames. She pours me a cup of tea, and despite my exhaustion, I feel the weight of my impulsive, rash decisions more than ever. It’s not the heat of the fire that blazes over my skin, but more shame and regret.
Prudy draws the drapes and futzes about behind me as I lose myself to the flickering flames and close my eyes to their warmth. I will it to heat my bones and comfort the hollowed parts of my soul.
“You better get some rest,” Prudy whispers, exhaustion heavy in her voice as well. Not only is she running the household, she’s worrying about me, and fussing after Blackburn and Paige.
“I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, Prudy. I know I’ve made things very difficult for you—for all of you.” I hold her gaze, hoping she will forgive me.
Prudy pats the top of my head in answer and heads for the door. “Good night, miss.”
“Good night,” I whisper.
I wait for it to click shut behind her, but it doesn’t, and I peer over my shoulder to find her still standing there. “Will you stay?” she asks from the doorway. “Now that you understand?”
Her question makes my heart ache because now, more than ever, I want to. “I’m not sure Master Blackburn will want me to,” I admit with a sad smile. “I have proven more trouble than I am worth. He said so himself.”
“Of course the master wants you to stay,” she says with so much certainty, I’m baffled by it. And that she would speak so freely on his behalf. “He brought you to live with us, didn’t he? He will look past this if you can.”
“I’ve now broken two promises, one to him and one to Paige,” I remind her.
Prudy’s brow furrows, and I can tell she’s choosing her next words carefully. “There is still much you don’t know, and I’m certain Master Greyson will explain with time. Until then, trust me when I say he wouldn’t have ridden out to find you if he had no intention of allowing you to stay here, should you decide to do so.” She shrugs. “If you don’t, Collins can arrange to take you wherever it is you wish to go. And that,” she says with a pointed finger aimed at me, “is from the master’s mouth, not mine. He doesn’t wish to keep you here against your will. There are many evils in this world, child. Lord knows we’ve all seen the brunt of it in one way or another. But Master Greyson isn’t one of them. You’ll see that soon enough.”
24
SELENE
By morning, my body is aching, and I feel as if I could sleep for hours. But Rosemary has other ideas when she comes in and pulls the drapes open. “Come on, miss. Time to get up.” I hear her prodding the fire before she tosses another log on. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to someone waking me without a siren, slamming of doors, or a shout to get up and get to work. I’ve never even slept past sunrise until now. And still, it takes sheer will to peel my eyes open. And sitting up is an entirely different feat.
“There’s an outing planned for you and Miss Blackburn.” Rosemary pulls my blankets back and the cold nips at every inch of me, forcing me fully awake.
I groan, as petulant as it is, and I rub my face. “An outing?”
“Master Blackburn wants you to see the estate today.” She claps her hands, making me jump. “Up! Up! Hurry now.”
I glare at the universe as she scuttles out of the room. “When did you get so animated?” I grumble under my breath, and realize she’s left the door open in her wake. Cold air continues to seep in and I can hear the house waking. In order to shut the world out, I’d have to get up to close the door. Clever, Rosemary.
I notice a plain but pretty red and cream-colored dress draped over the foot of my bed. I nearly groan again, wondering whose old clothes they are making me wear now.
My sleepiness pervades, and I am about to pull the covers over my head for a few more minutes when Prudy bumbles in, shutting the door loudly behind her. “Aren’t you up yet?” she says, as if I’ve had more than a moment to fully wake. “Come,” she waves for me to stand. “I’ll help you with your dress. I know you’re tired after last night, but there are things to do today.”
My bare feet touch the cool rug and a chill zips through me, along with the pain in my ankle, making me wince. I’d forgotten about that, and I get no sympathy from Prudy as she waits for me to hand her my nightgown. I’ve brought all of this on myself, of which I’m acutely aware.
Goosebumps give rise as I pull my nightgown over my head, exposing myself completely. Every inch of me, scraped and bruised, is on display, but between my exhaustion and Prudy taking care of me last night, I’m beyond inhibition.
“Whose dress is this?” I step into it, soft like felt, and the scent of heather fills my nose. I admire the simple embroidery, mimicking the needlework on the violet dress from yesterday. Though this one is lovely, it’s understated with simple lines and layers. Even the fur on the bell sleeves is less ostentatious, and I admire its subtle decadence.
“I requested it be made for you yesterday, while I was in the village having my arm tended to,” Prudy says. “And a few more are coming.” She cinches my stays in the back, and I grip the bedpost to steady myself.
“You had it made for me?” That surprises me, but if I’ve learned anything in the past few days, it’s that this place is full of them.
Studying my reflection in the mirror, I admire how snug the dress is around my waist before it flares a little to hang around my feet. It doesn’t puddle so much at the hem but touches the ground just as it should. This one feels a perfect fit. “Thank you, Prudy.” I can’t help the awe in my voice. “I haven’t had a new dress in many years.” I run my hand down the front of it, studying the workmanship in the mirror.
Prudy’s eyes meet mine and she winks at me. “A new dress can make all the difference,” she replies, and then her eyes widen in horror as they fixate on my hair. “But you’ll have to remedy that wild nest first, if it’s to suit you.” She hands me the copper-toothed comb she used on my hair last night. I blow a strand of hair from my face. “Brush that mess out while I check on Paige, and I’ll braid it back for you so that it will actually stay back this time.”
As Prudy hurries away, warmth spreads throughout my chest. Was I really running from these people only yesterday? I nearly died in the moors, and for what? The list of names in the row of ledgers flashes to mind. I know there is much I still don’t understand, and that I should trust Prudy if she says the master isn’t a villain. But there are still so many holes, I find it hard to wade through it all.
Ignoring my aches and pains, I comb through my hair, parting it for Prudy when I notice Paige, partially hidden in the doorway. She watches me as if she wants to come in, but isn’t sure I want her to, and the uncertainty in her eyes pains me.
“Good morning,” I say brightly, though I’m not sure it covers the regret in my voice. “You can come in, if you like.”
“I didn’t know you came back,” she says meekly, inching her way in. Her hair is a red mess, yet to be tamed this morning. She glances around my room as if she’s looking for a sign that I might be ready to leave again, and forgetting my hair, I walk over to her.
“Yes, I came back. I’m sorry for what happened last night at dinner.” I stare into her big green eyes and search for what to say—how to explain the chaos of my mind. “I was afraid, coming here to a strange place. Afraid of everything new that I don’t understand. But Prudy helped me see how things work around here, at least a little better.” As the truths that came to light last night resurface, I realize I must speak to Blackburn, and thank the very man I was running from for saving my life. My cheeks already burn with mortification.
Paige looks at me warily, like she isn’t sure she can trust me.
“I promise you this—if I ever must leave, I won’t without saying goodbye.” Desperate to lighten the mood, I nudge her a little. “Even if your father gets me riled up. You have my word, Paige.” She studies my face, and I wait for her to grasp my sincerity and see it in my gaze as I cup her cheek. “Will you forgive me for not being a very good friend?”
Finally, she nods, fingering the long sleeves of my dress. “Did Victoria make this for you?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. I run my hands over the soft fabric once more, admiring it. “Is she the dressmaker?”
Paige shrugs. “She’s Bartholomew’s wife. She makes clothes for all the children that come here. And she makes my dresses too.”
Instead of fixating on all the children that come here, I realize Victoria likely made or is making new clothes for Evie, Jon, Beatrice, and Nell too, and the thought makes me smile. “Well, she did a lovely job, didn’t she?”
Prudy claps, startling us as she hurries in. “Rosemary will tend to your hair, little one. Hurry now.” She shuffles Paige toward the door. “We’re meeting Gibson at the carriage. I’ve already packed a picnic for you.”
Before I know it, my hair is woven into a golden crown of braids, I’ve donned a matching red cloak, and Paige and I are heading down the stairs toward the door.
“It’s Sunday,” Prudy explains as she creaks the massive front door open. She nods us through. “Everyone rests today, but there is still plenty to see. Gibson will show you some of the beauty in this place, and you’ll be home in time for supper.”
But as Prudy prattles on, herding us toward the carriage, Master Blackburn catches my attention down the drive, where he and Collins are mounting their horses.
Uncertain when I will see him again today, I take a step in his direction. “Sir?” I call, and though my voice disappears into the foggy morning, Blackburn stops just before climbing into his horse’s saddle. He glances at me and then the carriage.
He and Collins exchange a few words, then Blackburn walks toward me. No matter which light I try to see him in, it’s no stretch to imagine him as a brute from a faraway land with his chiseled profile, long strides, and the kingly air he always has about him. It makes him as captivating as he is intimidating, and that realization is unsettling.
I hurry to meet him halfway, moving as fast as my sore ankle and knee will allow.
Blackburn’s brow twitches and his eyes darken as he stops a stone’s throw away, taking in my injury. “You were hurt?”
The hint of alarm in his voice is disconcerting, and I wave it away. “I will be fine.” Even after learning what I have from Prudy, it’s difficult to reconcile Blackburn the villain with Blackburn the man.
“We have a healer. I’ll have Gibson take you to him.”
“No—it’s fine. Really. It was my doing. You needn’t—”
“I insist,” he says. “You already have a lasting injury in your knee. I would not have your ankle be another one.” Even if his face is an unreadable mask of consternation, his concern is audible.
Gratitude fills me, and I have to swallow the ball of surmounting, unwanted emotions away. “Thank you, Master Blackburn. I know I don’t deserve it.”
His brow twitches as if he’s not sure what to make of that. “You may call me Greyson,” he replies.
“I couldn’t—”
“I prefer it,” he says curtly, but I think it’s borne of awkwardness, not anger. “Hell, Prudy does.”
I nod, because after what he did for me last night, I can’t deny him such a small request, even if it feels painfully intimate. “Look, I know my promises mean little,” I begin, determined to rid myself of this guilt so we can move forward. “There are many things I don’t understand about this place—things that frighten me.” I think of the image of him in a crimson splattered tunic and the rage I’ve seen more often than not in his eyes. “But I understand things a bit differently now, and I—I know my place, and I’ll try not to burden you, not anymore.”
Blackburn looks at Prudy as she ushers an eavesdropping Paige into the carriage. He dips his head, a bit distractedly, but it’s as if he understands my meaning. “Good. Perhaps today will go smoother then.”
I nod and turn to leave.
“Selene.”
My eyes dart to his. I’m not sure why, but my name on his tongue makes my cheeks flush.
Blackburn taps the gloves in his hand against his leg, and I wait with bated breath. “I should hope you won’t abandon that fire inside of you completely,” he finally says. “We could use a little spirit around here.” His eyes linger on mine for a moment longer. “Just a little,” he clarifies, and there’s a surprising mixture of intrigue and . . . something I can’t quite pinpoint in his gaze.
A heat stirs inside me, one I’ve never experienced before, and finally, Master Blackburn dips his chin and turns for Collins. He doesn’t look back as he mounts his horse and the two men ride away, leaving me with a spark that simmers in my blood, heating my skin in a way that frightens me.
25
SELENE
The muted morning light filters through the clouds, illuminating the stained glass window in the church ruins. The headstones dotting the graveyard are still damp from last night’s rain, and everything seems greener and more alive. Maybe it’s because of what I know now, even if it’s not everything, but the world sparkles with the promise of a new day.
The carriage jostles down the bumpy, soggy road, but it’s easy to settle into the moth-eaten seats, and I lose myself to the impressive landscapes as we drive on.
“Does your ankle hurt?” Paige asks, and only then do I realize I’m absently rubbing the wrappings.
“It does,” I admit, lowering my dress hem to cover my ankle. “But only a little. I’ll be fine.” I sit back in the seat, admiring the meadows that give way to a dense copse of dogwoods and enormous sandstone boulders.
“At least you don’t have to walk far today,” Paige says, and I realize she knows far more about our outing than I do.
“Where are we head—” We jolt as the ruddy road turns to metal, and we cross the iron bridge over the rushing river. I stare at the black smoke rising from the foundry’s brick chimneys as it comes into view.
“Emberbrook,” Paige answers with a smile.
I’m confused, but only for a moment until I remember. “The children are here.”
