Steadfast (11 page)

And would it have been so bad to tell them?

She found herself flushing painfully at the thought, and ducked her head down to keep
people from seeing it. What would they think of her, those two fine men, to hear that
she’d married that brute with her parents’ ashes barely cold?

They’d think you were afraid, alone, and desperate.

Maybe they would—and maybe they wouldn’t. And right now, she didn’t want to take the
chance on the latter. She didn’t want them to think she was—bad. She didn’t want them
to think that maybe she’d flung herself at the handsome strong man as soon as her
parents weren’t around to do anything about it, and only regretted it when she found
out what sort of a bad bargain she’d made. She didn’t want to hear
you’ve made your bed, now lie in it.

She didn’t want them to decide she was wrong for running away from her lawful husband,
and try and send her back . . .

That made her grow cold and hurry her steps. Yes . . . that was it. Because they
were
men, no matter how kind they seemed to be, and men backed up other men. And Dick
was her husband and she belonged to him. No matter what he did to her, she’d willingly
married him, and he had rights.

It’s your own fault, you don’t try to please him.
Yes, she knew people would say that, for people did. Never mind that she’d tried
every way she could think—they still said that, and meant it, and would turn her away.

She reached the boarding house, and sat quietly at supper with the earliest of the
girls. Suzie wasn’t back yet, but she had told Katie not to wait up for her. Katie
decided to take the opportunity for a real bath, since she’d be able to think while
she soaked and washed her hair without anyone trying to chatter or gossip with her.

She soaked until the water was tepid, then worked soap through her hair, and rinsed
it, rinsed it again, then wrapped it all in a towel and wound the towel up tight,
squeezing the water out of it. It was then that the idea sprang full-blown in her
mind.

I’ll get a divorce!

Her hands continued to work, automatically, but her mind suddenly felt full as a beehive
with the idea. She knew about divorces from the papers, of course; even in the circus,
there was gossip about famous ones. She knew how you got one—you proved infidelity,
and there was certainly plenty of proof of
that
with Dick. It would take money, though . . . lawyers were involved, and lawyers,
so she had heard, cost a lot of money. It might take having someone catch Dick with
one of his women. But . . .

I can get a divorce. I can save the money, and I can get a divorce and I’ll be free
of him forever!

Then . . . yes, then she would be willing to tell them. When she could prove before
a judge that Dick was a
bad
man, and that no good woman would want to be married to him. And once she was free,
she could tell them, tell them everything.

Yes. That was the answer!

She squeezed the last of the water out of her hair, wrapped herself up in her dressing
gown, and hurried up the stairs to the room she shared with Suzie. Her friend still
was not back—though really, it was only sunset—and she sat on the edge of her bed,
combing her wet hair dry, thinking about it. Holding the idea in her mind, like an
egg to be hatched.

Finally she looked up at herself in the peer-glass across the little room. “I will
get a divorce,” she said aloud, to see what it sounded like.

It sounded . . . perfect. And her reflection beamed a huge smile back at her.

I will get a divorce. And then, that beast will never touch me again.

6

“I
THINK we should have a toast,” Lionel said, raising his glass, as the others paused
in their pursuit of succulent roast hen, and looked up at him. “Really, this is double
a momentous occasion, and it deserves a toast. So! A toast! To our Suzie, who is about
to be launched upon the sea of matrimony, and our Katie, who is about to become my
full assistant at double the wage I hired her!”

“A toast!” Jack echoed, and Suzie and Mrs. Buckthorn raised their glasses and drank,
as Katie stared at them all with her mouth slightly open.

“What?” Lionel said, feeling extremely mischievous. “Did I forget to tell you? You
haven’t been my full assistant until now, so you’ve been on trial wages. Plus, when
Suzie leaves, you’ll be responsible for the whole of the room rent, unless you want
to allow in a second girl, so in all decency I really have to increase your salary.”

He had to laugh to see her going pink with pleasure and surprise. So did the others.
“The only thing I am
terribly
annoyed at, Miss Minx,” he continued, turning to Suzie, “Is that you are having the
dreadful taste to get married on Saturday, when we have three shows. Which means we
can’t see you properly shackled.”

When Suzie had announced the date, she
had
been very contrite. “I can’t keep apologizing, you know,” she said, with a shrug.
“It wasn’t up to me, it was up to my lad’s parents and the padre and their church.
That was the date that was available for everyone.”

“Everyone
except
your very good friends in the business,” Lionel grumbled. “Poor Jack will have to
represent us all, since he’s the only one that could get a few hours off.”

“Well, you know you can come to the wedding breakfast, and it’s not going to harm
a thing to skip the morning rehearsal,” Suzie countered. “It’s not as if you would
really enjoy sitting through the ceremony, and you know it, you old pagan.”

“But I can’t make you and the groom vanish at the altar,” the magician protested,
eliciting a giggle from both Suzie and Katie, since both knew that the groom’s parents,
particularly his mother, would probably faint dead away if he did that. Not to mention
that, short of arranging for a trap door at the altar, there was no way he
could
do that, even if they let him.

“Still bloody unfair,” Lionel muttered, causing Mrs. Buckthorn to rap his knuckles
with the handle of her knife and exclaim
“Language!”

“I’ll do the proper, Lionel, don’t worry,” Jack told him. “I even got my uniform cleaned
and all the medals polished.”

They continued teasing Suzie all through the meal; she answered them back with plenty
of amusement. Lionel enjoyed every minute of it, with a touch of melancholy. Suzie
had been one of the best assistants he had ever had, barring the two that had been
Elemental Mages themselves. He enjoyed her cheerful personality and he was going to
miss her.

On the other hand, she clearly loved her “boy,” and her young man adored her. His
family loved her too, and they had a good reputation in Brighton.

And it wasn’t as if she was going off to Australia or something of the sort. She would
be right here, and would probably drop by to see how they were all getting on.

Still, this was the last time they would be together like this. He had made it clear
that she and her new husband were invited to turn up for dark-day dinner whenever
they chose, but that was hardly likely—well, except, perhaps, when winter came. Everything
slowed down when the holidays were over, including custom at the oyster-houses.

“I really must go,” Suzie said at last, with regret. “Now you make
sure
you turn up for the wedding breakfast or I shall be
really
cross with you!”

Lionel gave Jack a quick glance, and Jack took the hint. “Katie and I have errands
to run in Lionel’s trap—did you want us to take you anywhere? It’s pretty hot.”

But Suzie shook her head with a laugh. “The day I can’t walk to the seaside it would
have to be hot enough to boil water.” She got up, and so did Jack. Katie followed
suit. “Let’s all go and leave Lionel to wallow in sloth in his back parlor.”

“Wallow in sloth!” He feigned indignation. “I am going to be working on a new illusion
in the workshop, I will have you know!”

“Well then, we’ll leave you to it,” Jack replied, and the three of them said goodbye
to Mrs. Buckthorn and took their own way out, leaving him contemplating the table
for a moment as Mrs. Buckthorn got up to clear it.

I hope Jack can trigger something in that girl, somehow,
he mused.
The sooner she realizes what she is, the safer we will all be. Having a Fire Mage
that doesn’t know what she is about is a bit like having a bomb that has failed to
explode sitting near you . . .

Then he shook himself out of his reverie and headed for the workshop. If Katie would
just cooperate . . . he’d had an idea for a whole new act.

•   •   •

The little livery stable where Lionel kept his pony and trap was just at the edge
of the range that was comfortable for Jack to walk in weather like this. The wooden
leg made everything twice as hard as it had been when he was a whole man. But he wasn’t
going to feel sorry for himself—not when it meant he had the company of Katie for
the entire afternoon.

She had done up her black hair on the top of her head, though a few little tendrils
had escaped and were curling around her face in a very attractive manner. She was
wearing a white cotton dress of the sort he thought they called a “tea gown,” and
a wide-brimmed hat. He thought she looked enchanting. You couldn’t recognize the little
imp she played onstage in the lovely young lady walking slowly at his side as he stumped
along.

He was wearing clothing suitable for running errands in the heat; nevertheless, he
was mortally glad when they reached the livery stable. The little pony was lethargic
and not particularly happy about being out, but Jack didn’t intend to push him, just
let him amble along at his own pace. After all there was no hurry in these errands.
It would be fine if they were done sometime around sunset.

Katie immediately went to the pony’s head, whispered in his ears, and scratched gently
under his jaw. She kept this up for several minutes, and when she was done, the pony
shook his head, and perked up, no longer looking so sullen.

She smiled at his odd look. “I’m a Traveler, remember?” she said—quietly enough that
no one would overhear, because it was very likely anyone who did would have a severe
prejudice against Travelers. “We’ve always had a way with horses.” Then she looked
a little sad. “I miss Buttercup and Belle. I hope they’re all right.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that, so he just nodded sympathetically. “Would
you rather drive?” he asked instead. Because it occurred to him that if she missed
the horses, she might like to drive.

But she smiled, and shook her head. “If you’ve driven him before, he knows you on
the reins.”

He helped her into the little cart, heaved himself in, and picked up the reins and
clucked to the pony, and off they went at a nice slow amble.

“What’s his name?” Katie asked, as they kept to the side to let faster traffic pass.

“Paddy,” Jack told her. “Allegedly—at least, according to Lionel—he’s a Connemara
pony from Ireland.”

Katie craned her neck a little, and examined the pony from her seat as the little
fellow ambled along, all good nature now.

“You know, I think he is,” she said at last. “Mostly, anyway. He has the temper and
the personality. Connemara ponies are often white or gray, but I’ve seen duns and
bays.”

Well, if anyone would know it would be a Traveler, he assumed. She made clucking noises
and laughed to see the pony’s ears flick back to listen to her.

When they got to the first shop, before he could do more than pull the pony up at
the front, she turned to him. “Just tell me what you want,” she said. “I’ll run in
and get it, and you take Paddy around to where there’s shade.”

“That’s a kindly offer for both of us, and I’ll take you up on it,” he replied, with
surprised gratitude. He simply handed over his money to her, gave her the list, and
took Paddy around the corner while she jumped down and stepped into the shop.

He soon learned that there was another advantage to having her do his shopping. She
was in and out much faster than he would have been, and that was after allowing for
his missing leg. It was very clear that being a pretty girl meant that shopkeepers—male
ones, anyway—attended to her very quickly indeed. The afternoon wasn’t even over before
she had taken care of his errands and Lionel’s too.

So they made one more stop, got some bottled lemonade, and gave Paddy a bit of a treat
by driving out along the road beside the seashore. The air was much cooler here, and
the pony perked up considerably. When they found a good place to pull over, within
sight of the ocean, but with some shade trees and a bit of a stream winding down to
the ocean, they did.

Jack would have left Paddy harnessed up, but Katie took that out of his hands, swiftly
unharnessing the pony, removing his bit, but tethering him so he could graze beside
them under the shade and still be in reach of the stream. He cropped lazily at the
turf, or took a few mouthfuls of water, while they spread out rugs and a couple of
cushions to sit on to keep her white frock from getting spoilt by grass stains and
drank their lemonade.

He told her stories of being in Africa. The good ones, not the ones with bad memories
attached. Like the time one of his mates got a mad notion for milk in his tea, and
nothing would dissuade him from trying to find some. How he went out, day after day,
as they patrolled the rail track, and how finally, one day, he came back triumphant
with a goat he’d bought from one of the tribes.

“Oh don’t tell me!” she laughed, as he described the little cockney Tommy being pulled
along by a half-wild African goat that had its own notion of where it wanted to be.
“He bought a billy!”

“No, they took pity on him, they sold him a nanny, but not so much pity that they
sold him a
nice
nanny,” Jack chuckled. “They sold him the meanest, most cross-tempered old goat I
ever saw in my life. Another lad and I that had some country upbringing showed him
how to milk her, but you had to truss up her head tight, and keep one hind leg off
the ground when you did it, and half the time she still got bites and kicks in on
you. He lost more milk than he ever got, what with her kicking over the pail all the
time, but he had milk for his tea, by Jove!”

She told him stories of roaming with her parents, before they joined a circus. Of
flitting through the forest like a little fairy when they camped, learning how to
creep up so quietly on a hare that she could almost touch it before it bolted. He
wondered if she had ever seen Elementals as a child. It wasn’t unusual for those with
the magic to do so—though as they got older, they often repressed the memories.

He couldn’t tell if she had; if she was editing her recollections, it wasn’t obvious.
But he could practically see the wild little thing in his mind’s eye, her hair all
loose, wearing one of her Pa’s shirts as a frock with a ribbon around the waist, feet
innocent of shoes, as she scampered along forest paths, gorging on berries, gathering
nuts, making dolls out of leaves and twigs and bunches of grass. The Elementals would
have been enchanted by her. They loved children, and the good ones always worked hard
to protect a child from the bad ones.

“Half the time I came back with my hair full of leaves and flowers and feathers I’d
stuck in, and my poor Ma would spend an hour untangling it and combing it all out,”
she said, leaning back on her elbows and watching the waves lap on the shingle a few
yards away. “She was always afraid I’d try swimming in a pond and drown, but I never
did.”

“Try swimming, or drown?” he asked, teasingly.

“Both.” She shrugged. “I like a nice hot bath, as does anyone, but I never learned
to swim, and I never wanted to. That’s not that unusual among Travelers.” But she
shivered a little, and he knew why.

He nodded.
Exactly what I would expect from a Fire Mage. Generally you can’t get them to swim
under less than a death threat, and sometimes not even then.
Water was the inimical Element for Fire, after all, as Earth was for Air.

Eventually they ran out of conversation just as the heat got just short of oppressive.
Thinking slowed, as if Jack’s thoughts were pushing through treacle. Paddy the pony
found eating grass to be too much work, had another long drink from the stream, and
laid himself down on the turf. Jack found himself staring mindlessly at the ocean
for a good long while, and when he finally looked over at Katie, she was doing the
same. Fire Mage though he was, he had always found the sound of the waves soporific.

He wasn’t sweating at all, of course. He rarely did. That was one of the little gifts
of being a Fire Mage.