All is Fair (4 page)

The funeral had been delayed by the recovery from his own injuries and by the autopsy, which gave a simple (and incorrect) conclusion: natural causes. A blood vessel had burst in her brain and then she dropped dead. The report detailed that she was slightly underweight but otherwise in good health.

Several nights in a row he dreamt of her on the underground platform. In one dream they held hands waiting for the train together. He’d woken up crying but soon sank back into the numbness that endured throughout the funeral arrangements. He’d left most of the details to her parents. His mother-in-law seemed to think the choice of flowers was far more important than he ever could. Her parents didn’t seem to know about the separation, and, from the way most of the people there were looking at him, he didn’t think they did either. At least she’d been discreet about it. But that was Leanne: professional to the last. She wouldn’t have taken all her problems to work with her. She just left them behind in Bath.

He took care not to look at Neugent and faced forwards again, unable to stop his gaze drifting towards the coffin. Sam could still feel the pressure of it on his shoulder. He wondered if his skin would ever forget the feeling of carrying his dead wife in a heavy box. He tried to imagine her body lying inside it, cut and stitched up again. He could just as easily imagine it filled with sand or with dozens of dolls or old mobile phones. Each set of imagined contents became more fantastical; all lacked any emotional impact.

The worry that Lord Poppy would do something to wreck it all or pull him away plagued him, but he hadn’t heard from him or the faerie since he delivered Cathy’s painting. Perhaps Poppy had forgotten about him.

“She was so young,” his mother-in-law said.

She was sat next to him and Leanne’s father was sitting on the other side with an arm around her. He too was staring at the coffin. Sam realised it was the longest time he’d actually sat with Leanne’s parents. He’d barely made an impression in their life. His parents were in Australia. They’d offered to come but he told them not to worry about it. They’d never liked Leanne. It would have been awkward. His mum would only have baked two dozen cakes and urged him to talk about his feelings every five minutes. He didn’t have the stomach for either, nor for the way his father would have wittered on about his stamp collection to anyone he could corner.

Leanne’s mother glanced at him, perhaps waiting for a response to her comment but Sam said nothing. There were no words in him.

They shared the front row with the pallbearers. Aside from him and her father they were made up of cousins and uncles, some of whom he’d never met. They weren’t a close family and many of them hadn’t even been to the wedding. He was sitting in a room full of strangers at his wife’s funeral. As he tried to look anywhere but at the coffin he caught glimpses of people trying to point him out discreetly during whispered conversations. It made him feel like an exhibit at some grotesque circus.

The man from the crematorium started the ceremony. It was non-religious, according to Leanne’s wishes, and bland. He finally stopped worrying that Poppy would find some way to interfere with it.

Then it was his turn to speak. The paper was crumpled and soft in his hand. He couldn’t even remember what he’d written on it. Sam walked up to the podium, decorated with flowers lovingly chosen by another woman he didn’t really know, and looked out over the congregation. Lord Iron was sitting at the back, looking straight at him. He inclined his head towards Sam. What do you want with me? Sam pushed the thought aside and looked down at the paper.

“Thank you for coming,” he started. His voice was too quiet and he leaned closer to the microphone. “I’m Sam, Leanne’s husband. I don’t know many of you, I’m assuming you know Leanne from work. She was… very dedicated and ambitious. In many ways you could say she was the exact opposite to me.” His awkward smile was reflected back at him from dozens of faces. “It didn’t used to be that way. In university we were… happy.” He felt a crackle in his voice and looked back down at the piece of paper but it was covered in gibberish. “Something changed. I suppose that’s what happens, I think Leanne was better at growing up than I was. She became something… amazing, she had so much energy and she was fearless.” People were nodding now. People who knew her better than he did. “I can’t help but feel stupid when I think about her. I thought we’d have longer together, but people always do, don’t they? We’re all on a clock. We’re all going to die. That’s why we’re all here – not just because of Leanne but because we know it’s going to happen to us and we’re scared and we want to be with other people who are scared too. Leanne should be here and I should be in that box. That’s the way I see it. She had more to give.”

His throat felt like it was closing up and his head began to throb. He crushed the piece of paper in his fist and left the podium. For a moment he almost left the chapel, but his mother-in-law was reaching a hand towards him, all tears and neediness. Even though it repelled him, he went to sit next to her and embraced her as Leanne’s father went up to speak.

Sam didn’t hear a single word he said.

A knock on the door woke Cathy from dreams of the butler, Morgan, speaking to her about afternoon tea with Bennet’s voice and pouring the poisonous liquid curse from the teapot. As the nurse opened the door she glanced to her bedside and saw the glass was gone, along with any outward traces of what Bennet had done. Had she dreamt it?

Will walked in and the nurse curtsied. His cheeks were pink and there were tiny drops of water caught in his hair. He smiled at her and she returned it. The Charm-addled dreams about him hadn’t focused on how handsome he was. Seeing him fresh-faced and happy brought back other memories too, ones that made her heart thrum.

“My love,” he said and came over to kiss her, sending the nurse scuttling into a corner to busy herself. “How are you feeling?”

“Ready to get up,” she said firmly. “Have you been out riding?”

There was a moment of confusion and then he touched his hair. “Oh, yes… it’s raining in Mundanus. Are you sure you’re ready? It’s only been three weeks.”

“Nearly a month,” Cathy said and pulled the covers back. “Honestly, Will, if I spend another day in here I’ll go mad. I was thinking an hour or two in Mundanus would do me the world of good.” She didn’t want to go back to the park, but she did want to see greenery again and hear birds singing and feel fresh air on her face.

“The weather is terrible.”

“And Her Grace isn’t ready to leave her bed yet, if you’ll forgive me for intruding,” the nurse said.

Cathy frowned at her. “Her Grace”? What an odd thing to call her.

“If Cathy feels she’s ready then I respect that,” Will said and the nurse retreated. Cathy squeezed his hands, happy to have an ally. “I have a surprise for you.” His eyes were even more beautiful when he was excited.

He helped her out of the bed which made her feel awkward and feeble. It was strange to have to think so much about moving, as if her body had got rusty inside and she had to remind it of how it used to move. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the attack had really taken it out of her. Her legs felt so heavy and when she stood the room tilted before Will wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re ready to go downstairs?”

“Yes, I’m so sick of this room. How’s Sophia?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Uncle Vincent.”

The nurse helped her into a robe and slippers and Cathy shuffled out of the room, Will holding her as they walked. She remembered how gentle he was after Lord Iris had cut her wrist and the night they finally consummated the marriage. They’d hardly been together since then and she felt awkward and uncertain of herself. She could remember resolving to stay away from him once her lust had got the better of her, for fear of getting pregnant and making escape more difficult. But now that she was going to stay in the Nether and fight the system, did she still need to do that? Could he become an ally too?

The possibility of falling for her own husband was not something Cathy had anticipated and it made her nervous. She had to stay focused on what she was going to do to make Society change, and the last thing she needed was to be all lovestruck, let alone pregnant. So what if he was handsome and clever and kind? If she fell into the trap of being in love with him she’d never be able to carve out a better life for herself or anyone else.

“You’re looking much better,” he said as they made their way to the stairs. “The very best care was provided, both in Mundanus and by the Agency. I’m told there won’t be any long-term problems.”

“It was bad, wasn’t it?”

He paused to kiss her cheek again. “You almost died. If it hadn’t been for the mundane doctors you wouldn’t be with me now.”

“Are you all right?” she asked and he smiled.

“Just glad we got through this.”

She leaned against him as they walked, and felt exhausted by the time they reached the top of the stairs. She didn’t say anything about Bennet for fear she’d cough and be packed off to bed again. Halfway down she noticed footfalls behind her that seemed too heavy to be the nurse. She glanced back and saw an unfamiliar man following them down a couple of paces behind. His blond hair was cropped short in a modern, mundane style, his eyes were a dull blue and his neat nose looked too small for his face.

“Who’s that?”

“Someone to keep you safe.”

“What, like a bodyguard?”

“Yes.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Yes.”

“So that man who stabbed me, he’s still out there?”

“No… he’s dead.”

She wondered how he’d died. Did Sam do something? She jolted. Sam! Had he been hurt too? She couldn’t ask Will, otherwise he’d know they’d met and it wasn’t something easily explained away. The sense of the world spinning whilst she’d been tucked up in bed was becoming frightening. What else had happened? “But if he’s dead–”

“You’re still at risk.”

“But the man attacked Sophia, it might be her they were after. I don’t need a–”

“Catherine, this is not up for debate.” They reached the bottom of the stairs. “I didn’t protect you before, I’m not making that mistake again. There’s no way Sophia was the target – no one else knows what she means to me.” He stroked her cheek tenderly. “But they know how much you do.”

Cathy tried hard not to lose her thoughts to the messy soup of emotions his tenderness elicited. There was no way he could love her, he was just trying to be a good husband. She was too tired to argue about the bodyguard; that would have to wait.

“Now, I don’t want you to worry about a thing.” Will helped her to walk again. “I’ve been working on something whilst you’ve been recovering and I think it will make you feel much better.”

He guided her down the hallway, past his study and the red drawing room, to the chamber they’d originally allocated as a smaller dining room for intimate dinners. He pulled a key threaded onto a blue silk ribbon out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “This is yours,” he said, placing it in the palm of her hand. “Close your eyes.” She did so and he opened the door. He guided her a few steps in, instructed the bodyguard to stay outside and then closed the door. “You can look now.”

The room had been transformed into a library. She turned in a full circle, taking in the shelves of books. There was a pair of high-backed leather chairs and footstools, one either side of the fireplace, each with a small table next to it. A cheval mirror stood in the corner, covered in blue silk and facing one of the bookshelves rather than into the room. She looked down at the key and then at Will. “You made a library for me?” She felt a rush of blood to her cheeks and chest. It was the thing she had wanted most as a child and the desire had never left her.

“It’s yours. No one else may enter without your explicit permission.”

One of the book spines caught her eye. “Hang on,” she said, moving closer. “That’s a Ray Bradbury and that’s…” She fell silent as she scanned the shelves. “It’s all science-fiction!”

“Every science-fiction novel ever published, to my knowledge. Or rather that of the expert I hired to curate the collection. Where possible I bought first editions. Some are quite rare, I’m given to understand.”

“But that would be thousands of books.” Cathy scanned the shelves. There wasn’t enough room.

Will pulled the silk off the mirror with a dramatic flourish. “Come and look at this.” He waved her over to the mirror. “Stand there.”

He moved aside and pointed to a spot in front of it. Cathy looked at the mirror, expecting to see her reflection but instead she saw a bookcase stretching into a point in the distance. Confused, she reached forwards and her hand passed through where the glass should have been, her fingertips brushing against the spine of one of the books.

“The rest of the books are in there,” Will said. “You can step through and walk around it like any other room. It’s a simple matter to add more shelves. I wanted to keep this room cosy.” He covered the mirror with the silk again.

Cathy stared at the shelves next to her. “I can’t believe it.”

“Do you like it?”

“Like it?” She laughed and embraced him, not caring about the twinges of pain it caused. They kissed and she felt the warmth of his hands through the robe on her back. “It’s perfect,” she finally said.

“I had two chairs brought in – I hope you don’t mind. I was hoping you could educate me.” She searched for sarcasm in his expression but there was none she could detect. “It seems only right that I devote some time to the things you’re passionate about. This seemed a good place to start.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I told you it would be different from your life before. You can read whatever you like here and I won’t ever tell you otherwise.”

She wondered if he’d feel the same about some of the sociopolitical books on her shelves in Manchester. As the surprise and elation subsided the old fears emerged like rocks at low tide. Was it a genuine gesture of kindness, or had Will simply made the perfect birdcage for her? She didn’t know whether to be suspicious or joyful that he seemed to understand her better than any man in the Nether ever had.