A Little Knowledge (27 page)

“Whatever you need is at your disposal,” Will said. “If you need men, arrange it with the Head Yeoman. Just give me a report when it’s all done.”

Tom looked like he wanted to say more about it, but could sense Will’s desire to leave. He bowed. “Thank you, your Grace. Good night.”

After Tom left, Will informed the page of his departure, pulled the cloth off the cheval mirror that was positioned behind a screen in the corner, and whispered the appropriate Charm.

Stepping out into his study at home, he fought to keep his temper in check, Cathy’s letter to Digitalis crushed in his fist. He pulled the cord next to the fire, and Morgan arrived very quickly.

“I’m sorry the fire isn’t lit, your Grace, I didn’t—”

“Is Mrs Lutea-Digitalis currently a guest here?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“Would you be kind enough to find my wife and tell her to come to see me?”

“Yes, your Grace. Would you like me to light the fire?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Seconds after Morgan left there was a rather timid knock on the door. Had Cathy been waiting down the hallway for a sign of his return? “Come in.”

Elizabeth entered, all smiles. “Good evening, William.”

“Oh. This isn’t a good time, Elizabeth.”

Her pout was carefully constructed to convey disappointment without too much peevishness. “But there’s something very important I need to talk to you about.”

“It will have to wait until the morning. I have serious matters to attend to.”

“But this is a serious matter too.”

Will gave her a glare he’d learned from his father. “Tomorrow, Elizabeth. I bid you good night.”

Defeated, she gave a small curtsy and left.

He had enough time to unlock the tantalus and pour himself a brandy before there was a second knock. “Come in.”

Cathy entered and he could tell from the wary look on her face that she expected trouble. “You’re back.”

He held up the crumpled letter and her cheeks reddened. “I’ve just had a very confused and upset man in my study at the Tower come to ask me why my wife won’t let his return home.”

“Don’t get angry, Will, you don’t—”

“It’s a bit bloody late for that! Why do you keep doing this to me? I think everything is fine, and then I go out for the day and come back to discover you’ve stormed in somewhere and removed people from their homes and I’m left to deal with the consequences.”

“Oh, don’t be so stroppy! You’re making it sound like I’ve done that loads of times and it’s only been twice. I haven’t ‘stormed in’ anywhere and I haven’t removed people from their homes. I freed them from a dodgy asylum and gave sanctuary to a woman in need. Don’t make it sound like I’m some sort of firebrand that you have to—”

“You have written a letter to a man telling him his own wife cannot come home and implying—in a rather brutal manner—that he may be responsible for that! What possessed you?”

“He is responsible!”

Will tossed the letter onto his desk. “He has no idea why you’d say such a thing.”

“Bollocks!”

Will closed his eyes, pinching the skin above his nose to try and fend off the headache. “Do you have any appreciation of how far you have overstepped the mark?”

“What mark is that? The one arbitrarily drawn by the men of Society to stop us doing anything other than pleasing you?”

Will groaned. “Oh, God, Cathy. Don’t bring your opinions on the patriarchy into this.”

“Why the fuck not? This is exactly what the patriarchy does! You haven’t once asked me why I thought it necessary—you’re more worried about a letter upsetting some man-child than the woman I’m trying to protect. I didn’t go to their house for fun, Will! She asked for help and she showed me what he does to her.”

Will folded his arms, struggling to think of a reason why he shouldn’t just go and find the Digitalis wife and take her home, rather than fighting with Cathy. Then her final words seeped through the anger. “What does he do?”

“He beats her black and blue. She’s terrified of him. Can you imagine how hard it was for her to show me? She wears a Charmed hairpin to hide it all. It’s…” Her voice cracked. “It’s awful.”

He saw the tears in her eyes and it all made sense. He recalled the soirée at the Peonias’ in Aquae Sulis and the moment he saw the bruising on her arms and shoulders. “So you rescued her.”

“I couldn’t leave her there! What would you want me to do—see that bruising and her black eye and just say, ‘Oh dear, well, that’s such bad luck. I can’t possibly do anything to help as it would upset your husband. See you at the Ladies’ Court’?!”

The sarcasm set Will’s teeth on edge. There was passionate and there was disrespectful. “You could have come to me. Made me aware of the problem, rather than being the bull in the proverbial china shop.”

Cathy’s hands were on her hips now, strands of hair fallen away from the neat arrangement pinned at the back of her head. “And what would you have done? Had a quiet word with him over billiards? ‘Gosh, I don’t want to overstep the mark, dear boy, but could you possibly stop beating the shit out of your wife? There’s a good fellow.’ Yeah, like that would have done anything.”

“There’s never any middle ground with you, is there, Cathy? No quiet way, no alternative solution that keeps everyone calm and—”

“And the men in control. No. I’ve lived most of my life in that middle ground, being beaten behind closed doors. No one said anything. No one stopped it happening. How can I be one of them? How can I have this supposed power as Duchess and do fuck all with it? What is the fucking point of us, Will?”

“Please don’t talk like that.”

“She’s been used as his punchbag for over a hundred years. His first wife died from a ‘fall down the stairs.’ Oh, come on, Will! Fuck what Society thinks should happen here! As far as the old boys’ club is concerned everything is fine as long as no one makes a fuss. But it’s only fine for them. There’s no one else to help her, no one to stop it from happening, no marriage to take her away. I did the only thing I could. I don’t give a fuck if Mr Digitalis is upset because his wife hasn’t come home. On what fucking planet is that more important than her being able to sleep tonight without being afraid?”

Cathy sagged, the rant over, and went to rest against the back of the sofa. Sobered, Will looked at her, at how tired she looked, how the rage seemed to crash through her like a tornado he saw tear through a cornfield in America, leaving her disheveled in its wake. “You know I can’t bear a lady to be hurt,” he said quietly, approaching her. “When I saw what your father had done to you, I wanted to take you away then and there, put you somewhere safe.”

She watched him get closer, arms wrapped around herself. “But you didn’t. You put Society first. You cared more about what my father would say to your father.”

He stopped. “I moved the date of the marriage. I didn’t just forget about it!”

“My point is,” she said quietly, “you stayed within the rules. The rules that suit men. My father could have beaten me to death between that night and our marriage date, for all you knew.”

“This is all academic now,” he said, irritated.

“Well, it isn’t for Wilhelmina. This is her life. And her safety. And her right to live without fear. All I did was put her first. That’s why he can’t stand it, and why it frightens you. It’s breaking the rule you all defend the most: that men are more valuable than women.”

Will closed the distance between them, drawn by the nobility in her eyes. No one else could make him want to shout with rage and hold them close in the same moment. She enraged him, and yet he couldn’t help but admire her. She was bold and fearless in a way he could never be. He wrapped his arms around her. “You drive me insane,” he whispered in her ear. “You are so infuriating and so…” He gave up trying to find the words and kissed her instead. He wanted to claim her, possess her and take her fire into himself. That passion of hers just needed to be redirected, as Eleanor had said.

She didn’t respond at first, then slowly her head tilted and she reciprocated the kiss, sliding her arms out from between them so he could press his hips against her. He felt her arms circle him, her hands slide across his back as she closed the embrace.

“No, wait a minute,” she whispered after reclaiming her lips. “We need to sort this out.”

“I’ll work it out, leave it to me,” he whispered between tiny kisses on her cheek, then down her neck.

“No, Will, we need to change the law.”

“Tomorrow,” he said, weaving his fingers into her hair to hold her closer as he nuzzled her neck. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise. It’s late.” There was no way the law could be changed without the Patroons destroying him. It was too ridiculous to contemplate. He’d have a few words with Digitalis, frighten him into committing to treating his wife better. He’d obey, knowing the Duke was watching over his wife, and she would be safe and Cathy would calm down again.

“But—”

He kissed the words away. “I want you,” he said, letting her see the lust in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about anything, I just want to be with you.”

Twisted in his grip, the elegant braiding of her hair finally gave way and it tumbled around her face. He could see her battling to stay rooted in their argument but also how she wanted him, so he redoubled his efforts, pressing her against the sofa as—

A piercing scream filled the house, making both of them jump and break apart. His first thought was of Sophia, but she would be asleep in the mundane nursery wing.

“Elizabeth!” Cathy said, and headed for the door.

Will grabbed a sword from its mount on the wall and dashed after Cathy, who was already opening the door. “No, Cathy!” he shouted, and pulled her back, moving her behind him as he drew his sword. He could see Carter running ahead as the scream died away and melted into crying.

It was coming from the main entrance hall. All over the house there was the sound of staff rushing to help. He could hear Morgan shouting at them to stay back.

“Miss Papaver?” he heard Carter say and then gasp. By the time Will emerged into the hall himself, Elizabeth was clinging to Carter, sobbing.

Will followed Carter’s horrified eyes to a large glass case standing in the middle of the tiled floor. Its edges were contained in an elaborately decorated gilded frame, and there was a pool of blue silk around it that looked like it had slipped off the case. But it was what was inside that made him stop and hold a hand back to keep Cathy in the hallway.

“No, stay there,” he said quietly. “Carter, take Miss Papaver to her room. Morgan, take her some sweet tea and a hot water bottle.”

Carter picked up Elizabeth, who was hysterical, and carried her up the stairs as Morgan hurried off, ashen.

“What is it?” Cathy said, but he had no words, so he just held up his palm again, wanting her to stay back.

Will approached the case, letting the sword drop to the floor, forcing himself to look at the woman inside the case. She was standing, rigid as a mannequin and posed as if someone had just leapt out from around a corner in front of her and yelled
Boo!
, her hands both held level with her shoulders, mouth agape. The dress was a dark blue and in a style that was familiar but he couldn’t place it. Her face was hidden by the glare of sprite light against the glass.

As he got closer and the reflected light shifted, he could make out her face and he stopped, a chill running through him. It was Dame Iris, but not as he remembered her when she’d last visited. Instead of her beautiful, youthful face, she had that of an ancient corpse, desiccated and grey-skinned, with hollow cheeks and straw-like hair. But her eyes still looked moist in their sockets, and as he stared, they moved to look at him.

He yelled and jumped back, every hair on his body standing on end. Cathy rushed in, saw the case, and stopped as if Dolled by a Charm.

“Cathy,” he said, rushing over to her, hoping to turn her away before she saw the Dame’s face, but it was too late. All of the colour drained from Cathy’s lips as the Dame fixed her dreadful stare on her.

Then the Dame’s eyes dimmed somehow, glazing and losing their power, and her body crumbled to dust, as if time ran differently inside of the case. Only then did Will notice the fleur-de-lis motif running through the gilded decorations.

Cathy started shaking violently. He wrapped an arm around her and turned her away from the case, as she seemed incapable of doing it herself. “Oh my God,” she whispered, again and again. “Oh my God.”

“Come on,” he said, steering her back down the hallway, desperate to get her away from it as much as himself. He was shivering too, he realised, and remembered the brandy in his study. “It’s over, you’re all right, come on.”

“It’s not over,” she stammered. “Don’t you see? It was a warning. She disappointed him, so Lord Iris did that to her. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

He nodded, squeezing her tighter against him. “He won’t do that to you.”

She said nothing, but he could tell he was doing little to comfort her. What could he say to soften the impact of such a horrific demonstration of power?

He sat her on the sofa in his study, lit the fire himself, and poured her a brandy. She took the glass when he offered it to her but just held it, as if the notion of actually drinking the brandy was beyond her. She was in shock. He covered her with a blanket that had been left draped over another chair and downed his drink, pouring another with a shaking hand. Did Sir Iris know that his wife was dead? Yes, he must, just as he had known when Cathy was being attacked.

And Cathy was right; it was a warning. The last time Dame Iris had been in their house she’d come with a potion that Cathy had smashed, and she had been outmanoeuvred. This was the final warning, after several reminders of what Iris had wanted from them since their wedding. Whether Cathy wanted it or not, they had to conceive a child soon, otherwise the same would be done to her, and he simply couldn’t bear the thought of it. He would secure the appropriate Charms from Tate when he picked up the choker. With the Poppy magic broken and their patron satisfied, he could keep her safe.

Would Sir Iris be distressed by the death of his wife, or the fact that he’d been unable to protect her, despite being Patroon? Will found it hard to imagine the old hawk being moved to tears, even now.