Languish (3 page)

Despite Lord Jasper's warning, right after he left, I couldn't
help crossing over to the window that overlooked the stables. It wasn't that I felt the need to break the rules for the sake of breaking them, the way Colin sometimes did, it was only that I had no intention of letting any harm come to Lord Jasper. I couldn't wait around for the spirits to decide they wanted to make sense, or for my symbolic third eye to heal. I needed information
now
.

I stared as hard as I could out the window at the lane-way where the horse had spooked. I could see the marks in the ground from the hooves. I breathed deeply, focusing every ounce of my attention. I willed something to happen, until sweat gathered under my hair.

“Spirits,” I whispered, my breath fogging the glass. “Show yourselves.”

I wiped the window clean with the heel of my hand. A bunny darted across the gravel, scurrying into the patch of wild mint on the edge of the kitchen gardens.

Not precisely what I'd had in mind.

I kept at it until my eyelids cramped and pain stabbed into my brow, radiating over my scalp and down the back of my neck. A cold draft brushed my arms, but I couldn't be sure if it was simply day cooling into night or something more.

“I'm not giving up,” I announced. “I know you're there. And I
will
see you.”

The next morning, I got exactly what I asked for.

Proving the old adage that one really ought to be careful
what one asks for.

The ghost appeared as suddenly as summer lightning. One moment I was stepping out into the hall on my way to breakfast and the next a spirit slammed into view right in front of me. If he'd been corporeal, we'd have broken each other's noses. As it was, I flailed in surprise, hit the wall, and fell in a heap.

He was gone nearly as quickly as he'd appeared, but not before I'd had a chance to take note of his torn coat and the vicious bruises on his arms, shoulders, and neck. His hair was matted with blood. He looked to be about Colin's age, with angry black eyes. He was handsome, even with the small scar by his lip.

The door beside me opened, revealing Tabitha's perfect blond curls and a pristine white dress with green ribbons. “Violet, honestly.” She sighed, stepping over me. “Do try and show a little decorum. Society will think Lord Jasper has taken in a savage.”

“He has,” I muttered. Tabitha narrowed her eyes at me, perfectly catching the slight. I might have helped solve her twin sister's murder but Tabitha was still Tabitha: spoiled, bored, and complicated. Also, Lord Jasper's other ward.

Clearly the man was more courageous than a dockside rat by taking us on.

That, or insane.

It occurred to me that he wouldn't thank me for comparing him to a rat. But honestly, I'd once seen a rat scurry down a plank of a ship, dance right over the toes of a rat catcher, and disappear under the voluminous skirts of a fishwife. Lord
Jasper had that kind of disregard for his own safety and reputation.

I sat up, my tailbone giving a twinge of protest at the movement. A dull ache throbbed in my temples. Tabitha watched me stumble as I got caught in my own petticoats. I wasn't used to so many lace trims and tiny ribbons; they'd caught on the metal grommets of my left boot. It took a moment to extricate myself from my own undergarments.

Being a spirit medium who spoke to the dead was so glamorous.

I couldn't help but think of the last time such a thing had happened, when my friend Elizabeth had begged me to loosen her stays and we'd been caught by the earl's son she'd fancied.

“If you're
quite
done with whatever it is you're doing.” Tabitha rolled her eyes.

I missed Elizabeth. Her mother wouldn't let her visit Rosefield, not while I was in residence. I surreptitiously searched for more spirits waiting to leap out at me from behind the marble statues guarding the top of the staircase.

I found much more than spirits bleeding into the rug. I stumbled to a halt.

Tabitha crashed into me. “
Now
what?”

I yanked her back into the miniature jungle of ferns and ficus trees on the landing.

“Why are you mauling me?” she asked.

I put a finger to my lips and nodded to the bottom of the stairs. Lord Jasper had his arms around a woman. He nuzzled her neck and she giggled. Her hair was white, her hands blue
veined and fragile, but she was giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Colin was right,” I murmured, pushing a branch out of my way. “Lord Jasper really was out courting.”

“That is disgusting,” Tabitha whispered. “He's a peer of the realm. Not to mention positively ancient.”

“I think it's sweet.”

“You would.” She snorted. “Come on,” she added, grabbing my hand as Lord Jasper and his companion crossed the foyer. The front door closed behind them.

“Where are we going?” I asked Tabitha, trying to wriggle free. She was surprisingly strong for a girl who did nothing but drink tea and wait for the newest issue of
La Belle Monde
. She peered through the window, watching the visiting carriage rumble down the lane.

“To shop for ribbons in the village,” she replied when the carriage turned left, toward the village. She announced it with a kind of military fervor which made me nervous. Her tone suggested rifles, musket balls, swords, and other sharp, deadly things.

I dug my heels into the carpet. “But I don't want to go to the shops.”

“Don't be naive, Violet,” she said. I found that rather ironic coming from the sheltered daughter of an aristocrat. “We need to follow that woman.”

As it turned out, following an old woman through a sleepy Wiltshire village was as boring as it sounded.

“I don't know who she is,” Tabitha finally burst out, an hour later. “And I know all of the good families for miles around.”

“Perhaps she's not from a good family,” I pointed out. “Clearly, Lord Jasper isn't overly bothered with that sort of thing.”

“Everyone is bothered with that sort of thing,” she insisted sourly. “It's only that some people prefer to pretend otherwise.” I rolled my eyes. “Tabitha, as enjoyable as it is to hide out in a carriage with you in this kind of mood, what exactly are you hoping to accomplish?”

“You protect Lord Jasper your way, I'll protect him my way. We need to find out more about this woman.”

Unfortunately, she wasn't entirely wrong. Lord Jasper needed protecting. His horse hadn't been spooked by natural means and if Colin hadn't been there, he might have been seriously injured. Even killed.

“She could be taking advantage of him,” Tabitha continued.

“Maybe,” I allowed. “But we're not going to find out sitting here. For one thing we're in one of Lord Jasper's carriages, which is hardly stealthy of us,” I said drily. “And for another, we've been here so long the coachman just went into the pub.”

“He's got a sweetheart in there,” Colin said from the window on the other side of the carriage. Tabitha shrieked, spun around, and threw her bonnet at him. He watched it flutter harmlessly to the floor, pale pink ribbons drifting as if they were made of sugar. “What on earth are you two doing?”

Tabitha glowered at him, embarrassed to have been caught unawares. “Shouldn't you be gardening?”

“You were right,” I said, as we both ignored her. I slid across the seat toward him.

“Of course I was.” His blue eyes twinkled at me. He paused. “About what exactly?”

“Lord Jasper is courting.”

“Ah. And you've taken it into your heads to spy on him?”

Tabitha sniffed. “We are just being cautious.”

“And bored silly,” I added. “The woman's bought fabric, pastries, and a new parasol. Hardly suspicious activity.” I glanced outside and groaned. “And now she's going into the ribbon shop.”

“Excellent.” Tabitha shoved me out of the carriage. “Go on.”

I stumbled off the step and then turned to blink at her. “Go on, what?”

“Go look at ribbons. Someone in there is bound to use her name.”

“Why don't you go? You're the one who loves ribbons.”

“Violet, I'm a Wentworth,” she said, as if I had cabbage for brains. “My family's ancestral seat has been in this village for centuries. Everyone knows who I am.” Especially since her uncle had just been deported for murder.

“
Now
she's worried about secrecy,” I muttered, leaving Colin leaning against the nearest lamppost, chuckling as I walked away.

The ribbon shop was crowded, with lengths of silk, satin, and printed cotton dangling from the ceiling and spread out in flat open drawers. Bored girls with their mothers and bored
mothers with their daughters browsed, elbow to elbow. I skirted a table of silk roses, edging closer to the woman with the white hair. She paused at the counter, where the harried shopgirl smiled politely, her cheeks red with the exertion of dashing back and forth between customers. “One moment, Lady Ashburnham,” she said.

I couldn't help but recognize that I should rightfully be in the shopgirl's place, if it weren't for Lord Jasper's generosity. Though a country ribbon girl was a far cry from the seamstress assistants waiting for me in London, sewing under the light of the street gas lamps until their fingers bled to make fancy dresses for girls like Tabitha.

Yet another reason I intended to be absolutely certain Lord Jasper was safe.

I slipped beside Lady Ashburnham, reaching for a ribbon. I made sure to knock the basket of pins over, scattering them along the counter and down her dress. “I'm terribly sorry!” I exclaimed, picking her reticule off the floor with an apologetic smile. I handed it back to her without a blink and slipped into a gaggle of preening debutantes before she could reply.

Outside, I picked up my pace. A familiar tingle of adrenaline prickled down to my fingertips. Colin pushed away from the lamppost, watching me carefully. I tugged at my collar, as if it needed adjusting. It was old signal between us, letting the other one know we'd found our mark. Usually, it meant I'd picked someone's pocket for a coin or nicked bread out of the back window of a bakery when we were hungry. This time I had no idea what I'd actually stolen. It could be nothing more
interesting than a shopping list.

As I stepped up into the carriage, it lurched forward without warning. I hit the door frame, grabbing for support. Colin swore, and leaped forward toward the horses but they were already pulling away. The coachman was still inside the pub. Colin grabbed the edge of the step and pulled himself up, struggling to climb onto the seat.

The door swung on its hinges, hitting me hard on the hip. The carriage bumped and creaked. Tabitha's hand closed around my wrist and she yanked. We fell together onto the seat in a tumble of curses and petticoats. The door slammed, open and shut, open and shut. It was loud and jarring, the wind howling in between the staccato bursts.

I crawled across the floor, reaching out to try and grab the handle. Tabitha kept hold of my ankles. “What are you doing?” she hollered. “Are you mad?”

“I need to see if Colin is hurt!” I yelled back. For all I knew he was lying somewhere in the road, having been thrown clear off the seat. Carriage accidents were common as cats. Everyone knew of someone who'd died horribly, crushed under a wheel or thrown upside down in a river, drowning before help could arrive. Panicked horses were a force to be reckoned with, especially when there were two of them, strong as oxen.

The carriage continued to rattle violently along. The door slammed into my hand. I cursed with enough creativity that Tabitha goggled at me. With bruised fingers, I managed to grip the edge of the window and yank the door shut. It latched and the sudden quieting of the rifle-shot banging was deafening.

I pulled myself up, hooking one foot under the seat and leaning out slowly. The wind tore my hair out of its pins and stung my eyes. The horses were running full out, their manes streaming and tangling in the wind. Pedestrians leaped out of the way. Shopkeepers rushed to their windows to see what the fuss was about. A dog barked, straining on a leash, dragging some poor girl behind him.

But at least Colin was safe on the seat, legs spread wide as he used his entire body to pull down on the reins. It wasn't enough. The horses just kept running.

I leaned farther out, judging the distance between the door and the roof.

“Violet, don't you dare!” Colin shouted, knowing what I intended to do.

As if proving his point, the back wheel slammed into a rut and shattered. The carriage jerked to the side. I was thrown back inside. I nearly bit off my tongue when I landed. Pain exploded in my elbow and my knee. I could hear Colin shouting in Gaelic and the grinding of the remaining wheels. The tilted view out the window went from shops to the stately oak trees leading out of the village.

And then the carriage came to a slow, sliding, sickening stop.

It took an eternity, the momentum pressing us painfully against the side. We could only hold on tight and pray. Wood paneling splintered, grinding against a tree. Branches dragged angry fingers across the carriage until it teetered like a top and finally fell with a resounding crash against a giant oak.

Tabitha opened her eyes. I released a long, jagged breath. A leafy branch jabbed the space between us.

But we were unharmed.

“You can see spirits,” Tabitha said, her voice squeaky. “Are we dead?”

I laughed, startled. I'd had no idea she had a sense of humor. Especially not while trapped in her own torn gown and hanging awkwardly off a seat. “No, I don't think we are.”

I scrabbled to the door, now broken right off its hinges. My legs hung over the side and I had to drop down carefully. The carriage creaked. Tabitha flew out behind me, considerably less careful.

I darted to the front. “Colin!”

He looked down at me, breathing hard. His arm muscles strained against his shirt. His hair was a wild mess, like a thundercloud over the summer–sky blue of his eyes. The horses tossed their heads, sweat steaming off their heaving sides.