Page 11 of Court of Shadows
Well, most of us. Mr. Morningside was not to be found in the early morning chill of the kitchens. I moved subtly closer to the ovens, rubbing my hands for warmth. The sun had only just appeared, and the springtime rays had yet to suffuse the house with their heat. Outside, through the open kitchen door, sheep bleated to one another in the fields beyond the fence, and just above that came the uneven, growly hum of Bartholomew as he snored. I could see nothing but his tail curled on the stones, the end of it dipped black as if he had stuck it in an inkwell.
Chijioke stood to my left, arms crossed, his clean workman’s shirt smelling of Mrs. Haylam’s lavender soap. I was surprised to see that Lee was in attendance, standing in the corner just in front of the larder. His clothes were rumpled, though he wore a coat now, one far simpler than the gentleman’s attire he had brought to Coldthistle in the autumn. He avoided my furtive glances, eyes fixed on Mrs. Haylam, who stood before us in front of the large kitchen basin. Poppy munched on herbreakfast, sitting at the table and swinging her legs.
It all felt terribly normal, and I wondered what it would be like to have this breakfast somewhere else. In a normal place. Chijioke, Lee, and Poppy could be normal friends, if only we had mundane jobs and no violence on the horizon. Was it foolish to hope for such a thing—foolish to even consider it?
Clearing her throat, Mrs. Haylam made eye contact with each of us in turn. Perhaps I was imagining it, but she looked at me the longest. I shrank under her inspection, aware that I had dressed in a hurry and did not look my tidiest.
“Well. At last we can begin,” she said, and nothing more needed to be said about my tardiness. “As you all have undoubtedly noticed, there are a few changes here this spring. The visiting Upworlders are to be tolerated, nothing more and nothing less. If I hear of any of you beginning trouble with them out of turn, I will be unhappy in the extreme. Do not disappoint me.”
“And if they start trouble with us? What then?” Chijioke asked, shifting.
“They will not.”
“But if they do?” he pressed.
Mrs. Haylam snapped her head toward him, narrowing her eyes. “Why do I have the impression you are eager to vex them?”
“Because they’re insufferable gits, that’s why.”
The old woman nearly smiled, but caught herself at the last moment, her lips pulling up into a half smirk before she regainedcontrol. “Be that as it may, you will restrain yourself. The Court is an unusual occurrence, naturally, and one that we should not draw out. The sooner those outlanders leave our house, the better. We want to resolve a disagreement, not start a war.”
“Excuse me,” I said, taking a tiny step forward. “But what exactly is this Court? Nobody has explained it to me. Not in full, anyway.”
Mrs. Haylam sighed and glanced at the ceiling. “You will not be required to participate, Louisa, just see to your regular chores and tend to the guests. If Chijioke or Poppy has need of your assistance, you will be told.”
“But—”
“You will be told.” She raised her voice just enough to silence me. “Now, I want all of you to stay alert and tell me at once if you think the Upworlders are interfering with your work at the house. Do not wander to town and do not take any unnecessary trips off the property. This is just a temporary disruption, and I expect us all to complete our work as if these were ordinary days.”
Nobody spoke up after that, and a brief pause taken, Mrs. Haylam added, “Rawleigh is a permanent member of the house now, and as such I have asked that he take a position as valet. He will see to the gentlemen staying with us for the next month. Which brings me to ourguests...”
I looked in Lee’s direction, but he remained determined to avoid me. He stared at Mrs. Haylam and then at the floor. Itwas hard to imagine him acting as a valet with his messy hair and clothes, but perhaps she would force him to clean up before taking up his job in earnest. Of any of us, he would be the most familiar with the duties and mannerisms of a valet, having been the only one wealthy enough to employ one of his own in the past.
It was cruel to stare at him, and I wondered if he felt furious at the thought of having to work in a station so beneath him. And with me. He had already been shot by his uncle, died, and been revived with shadowy necromancy; this further punishment made me feel ill. Worse still, I had no interest in hearing about the newcomers to the house. Now that I knew Lee had been an innocent wrongly drawn to Coldthistle, I would always be concerned that another mistake was being made.
“The pavilion outside has been constructed for the Court, yes, but it will also be used by our guests. We are to host the nuptials of Miss Amelia Canny of Dungarvan and Mr. Mason Breen of London. Never have a more villainous pair of families darkened our doorstep. You are to serve them with all due deference and see to their needs, until you are called to escort them violently from this mortal coil.”
Chapter Eight
Istayed behind in the kitchens to have my breakfast once the house meeting ended. For a moment, sipping my tea and gazing at the fire in the hearth, I felt again the terror of my dream return. Shivering, I held the teacup with both hands, breathing in the fragrant steam and letting it banish the chill of the nightmare. It seemed I had stepped from one nightmare to another, left to huddle alone in the kitchens while I dreaded the work ahead of me and the guarantee that I would meet these Canny and Breen families, come to know them, and then watch as they were extinguished.
Slowly, I meandered to the open kitchen door and leaned against the frame, watching as the laborers finished the work on the pavilion and cleaned up their tools. I wondered if I would miss them, having grown accustomed to their workaday chatter. It had been such a curious dash of normalcy to the otherwise constant strangeness of Coldthistle. But now they were leaving, trading boisterous jokes as they trundled off. They knew better than to even look in my direction; one brawny, sun-reddened man had shouted vulgarities at me on my first day. Mrs. Haylam marched him from the property, and I could only speculate on his fate after that.
Bartholomew dozed at my feet. He had doubled in size over the winter, no longer so much resembling a sweet, small pupbut a frizzy bruiser of a beast. A wiry mane had grown between his ears and down his back, giving him the appearance of a far wilder, fiercer creature. Still, he had not outgrown his puppy ears, which flopped charmingly onto the stones as he rolled onto his back and tucked his paws up to his belly.
Crouching down, I scratched his neck and listened to his sleepy growls of contentment. I closed my eyes and took another sip of tea, and fancied I was far away, just a normal country girl outside a cottage in Ireland, patting her dog and having her breakfast before a day of tutoring or darning. That made me remember the letter still hidden in my apron and I stood, closing my hand over the place where it waited. What if that life of tutoring and darning was possible, and I needed only reach out to this so-called father for help? Or better yet, what if he shared his unimaginable wealth with me, and right that moment I could be sleeping in, a woman of means in a stately home, nothing to do but call on friends and make small talk with well-perfumed ladies....
A duo of distant voices drew my attention. At first I assumed it was the twins, Finch and Sparrow, but instead I noticed Lee skulking in the shadows of the barn across the yard. He was talking to somebody, though I could not at first make out whom. A moment later, he took a step deeper into the eaves of the barn, leaning on a horse stall and fixing his hair. Beside him stood a vague shape, what might have been a person but was merely a shadow. A shadow of a girl.
“I told you not to get mixed up with him.”
I cursed in surprise and dropped my teacup, watching it shatter on the stones. Bartholomew yelped and leapt up, circling once and sniffing his tea-stained tail before trotting off to find a quieter place to nap.
“You gave me a shock,” I said, irritated. “I’ll fetch a broom....”
“In a moment.” Mrs. Haylam emerged from the kitchens, and in the transfer of light from dark to bright, her rheumy eye seemed to glow. “He’s a creature of shadow now; there’s naught but that left inside him. That pretty skin he wears is just a mask, and when it rots and falls as a man’s flesh does, you will see the truth in what I say.”
An image of his eyes, consumed with blackness, revisited me in a flash.
