The Glittering Court (13 page)

“What in the world are we doing here?” I asked as he shut the door behind us.

He waved me forward past several rows of crates and then gestured grandly. “Your art studio, madam.”

I peered into a narrow space shielded by a large stack of boxes and found a canvas and some paints.

“I smuggled them aboard and waited until I could find a place seldom visited,” he explained, clearly proud of his cunning.

I knelt down to look at the paints, spreading my skirts around me. I examined the pots one by one. “Oils.”

“Does that make a difference?” he asked.

“It affects what I can do. I can't do a Florencio. His medium's different.”

Cedric's earlier pride faltered. “I didn't know. Will you be able to do
something
?”

“Sure.” I ran through a mental list of various artists' works I'd seen, including the types of pigments and canvases used. I had a pretty good memory for detail. The question would be choosing which style was within my skill set. “Thodoros,” I said at last. “A Myrikosi painter. I can do one of his. A lot of their trade goes through Sirminica, and with all the chaos there right now, a rogue painting being smuggled out wouldn't be that extraordinary.”

“Can you do it in a little less than two months?”

I hesitated. “I suppose—especially if I can get a couple of hours each day.”

“I'll make sure of it,” he said adamantly. “We'll make this happen.”

When he simply stood there and watched me expectantly, I exclaimed, “What, right now?”

“Why not? We're short on time.”

“I can't just jump into a major work. Especially with you staring at me the whole time.”

He backed up—but not by much. “Well, I can't leave you. I need to be around in case someone comes in.”

“Well, if they do, it's not going to save us from being caught in art forgery,” I snapped.

“It'll save you from some wandering sailor. Now. Is there anything else you need?”

“More space. More time. A ship that isn't constantly swaying. And maybe something to eat that isn't dried out and preserved. I'd kill for a honey cake.” Seeing his exasperated look, I said, “Hey, you try just jumping into reproducing one of the greatest artists out there. I want to help you, but I need to think this through.”

After pondering Thodoros's works for the better part of an hour, I finally set to sketching charcoal on the canvas and began planning out the scene. Thodoros was famous for a series of four paintings called
The Lady of the Fountain.
Each also had a number. They were all different angles and poses of a young woman standing by a fountain and had been created at different times. Occasionally, another person would be included—a man, a child. Passing off a fifth, just-discovered one would hopefully be viable.

My marks were tentative at first. The bizarre, cramped setting didn't help any. Neither did the constant rocking of the ship. I finally decided a back view of the woman would be easiest, and I had to remember the exact position of the fountain and number of trees around it. As time passed, I grew more confident and was happy to get lost in the work. It took my mind away from the deception I was enmeshed in and that constant ache over Tamsin.

I forgot Cedric was there and jumped when he spoke. “Adelaide, we've got to go.”

“Do we?” I nodded toward the canvas. “I'm not done with the sketch.”

“We've already been gone longer than we should have. It's nearly dinnertime, and I'm hoping Miss Bradley hasn't been looking for you.”

I reluctantly surrendered the charcoal and watched as Cedric neatly concealed everything away. “Be careful,” I warned. “Don't tear that canvas.”

“Maybe it'll just add to the authenticity of being smuggled out through dangerous conditions.”

“Maybe,” I said, stretching my cramped muscles. “But a painting that makes it out intact will fetch a better price for poor, penniless heathens. A buyer won't question the miracle to have something neat and tidy hanging in his home.”

“Well, this poor, penniless heathen is grateful.”

We left the cargo room but stopped again in the narrow corridor just before we reached the Glittering Court's set of rooms. He lowered his voice. “Where
did
you learn to do that anyway? The painting? Lots of people know how to paint. Not many can do that kind of imitation.”

Another weighty question. “My father,” I said after several long moments. “It was a game we played. To test my memory.”

He quickly noticed the change in me. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something upsetting. But he must have been remarkable to have that kind of faith in you. From what I've seen, most noblemen just care about their daughters behaving politely and marrying well.”

“He was interested in those things too. But I don't think what I'm about to do is exactly the marriage he had in mind. Do you know about Rupert, First Earl of Rothford?”

“Of course. All Osfridians know about him.” Cedric gave me a meaningful look. “And I know who his direct descendants are.”

“Throughout my entire life, I've had the importance of that drilled into me. What a responsibility that title is.” I leaned against the rough wooden wall, thinking of Grandmama. “Sometimes I wonder if I'm tarnishing that heritage. I don't know.”

Cedric's expression softened. “Well, I know two things. For you to be countess, he's one of the rare progenitors to let his title be passed to his female descendants. Most don't do that, which means he wasn't someone who believed in abiding by archaic rules. You should be proud of that.”

“You don't need to pitch me on my own ancestor. What's the other thing you allegedly know?”

“There's no ‘allegedly' about it. Rupert left a comfortable life back on the continent, sailing west to a savage land he knew little about. He didn't do it because it was the safe choice or because it was the easy choice. He did it because it was the
right
choice, because he knew in his bones that staying in the old land was draining him and he had to move on to greater things. He didn't tarnish his heritage. He was brave and bold.” Cedric looked at me meaningfully. “Sound like anyone we both know?”

“Are you talking about yourself?”

I started to turn away before he could see my smile, but he caught my hand and pulled me back. When I looked at him, I felt my mirth vanish. There was something disconcertingly serious in his face. The hall suddenly seemed very small, the space between us even smaller.

“Never underestimate your own worth,” he told me. “I certainly never have.”

I wanted him to smile again or make a joke, and when he didn't, I broke away. “I have to go. I'll see you later.” I hurried off to my room, afraid of what I'd see if I looked back.

Chapter 11

Cedric was nervous in those first days. He'd expected me to put brush to canvas and start instantly creating people and scenery. Those things would come, but first, I had to do the groundwork. I sketched and laid base colors, and slowly, bit by bit, the work began to come to life. Each time I finished a session, I always felt as though I hadn't had enough time. The minutes flew by, and I'd have a pang of worry that I wasn't going to be able to finish before the end of our journey.

Outside of my makeshift art studio, however, my painting time was noticeably long.

“There you are,” exclaimed Miss Bradley one evening. I hadn't been able to leave the storage room until some paint had properly set, making me late for dinner in our common room. All the other girls were seated, their eyes locked on me as I stood in the doorway. On a long trip like this, anyone getting in trouble was high entertainment.

“I'm sorry, ma'am.” I clasped my hands in front of me and tried to look contrite. “I was taking a walk on the deck, and when I started to come back, there was a group of sailors in my way in the stairwell—doing some sort of repair. I didn't want to have to pass so close to them, so I waited—discreetly—until they were done. I thought that was the proper thing to do.”

Miss Bradley tsked. “The proper thing to do would have not been to go above deck alone.” At least I wasn't alone in this crime. A few other girls with cabin fever had been chastised repeatedly too.

“I'm sorry,” I said again. “I just needed some air. I get nauseous down here sometimes.”

She surveyed me a moment longer and then nodded for me to take a seat. “Very well, but don't let it happen again. And that goes for
all
of you.”

Everyone nodded meekly, knowing full well this would probably happen again. I breathed a sigh of relief and settled next to Mira. Since this business with Cedric had started, I hadn't been able to spend much time with her. At first, she'd commented on it and tried to include me in excursions, but she'd eventually given up. Now, when I wasn't painting, I'd sometimes find her alone in our room rereading her Sirminican swashbuckling stories. Other times, I couldn't find Mira around at all.

“Another decadent meal,” she said, handing me a basket of hardtack.

I picked up one of the stiff biscuits with a scowl and then added some pickled cabbage from a serving platter. Our lessons in fine dining and etiquette weren't of much use at the moment as we subsisted on this simple ship's fare. The food in and of itself didn't bother me so much as eating the same thing each day did.

I'd lifted the hardtack to my mouth when Clara suddenly said, “Isn't it raining up above? Why aren't you wet, Adelaide?”

I froze as all eyes once again swiveled toward me. “I . . . kept under cover,” I said at last. “I knew Miss Bradley wouldn't want us to ruin our clothes—or even our hair. Maybe we aren't in Adoria yet, but we should still maintain certain standards.” Sure of my footing now, I smiled sweetly at Clara. “I can understand why you might not think of those things on a trip like this. But as our cohort's diamond, I find it's something I must constantly keep in mind.”

“Excellent point,” said Miss Bradley. “Just because we're in rough conditions, it doesn't mean we should be any less diligent about our manners and appearances. You are going to have to be in best form the instant we reach Adoria. As soon as word of our ship's arrival spreads,
there'll be prospective suitors down at the docks to watch you come ashore and size up this year's group.”

Those words took all of us aback for a moment. It wasn't anything that had ever come up before. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, however. Everything we'd done had been scrutinized at Blue Spring Manor, with the understanding that we'd continue to be scrutinized in the New World. Why not from the first moment we stepped on shore?

“Sized up like livestock.” Mira pitched her voice low, but Miss Bradley heard her.

“There are young ladies begging in the streets of Osfrid who'd love to have the opportunity to be dressed up and ‘sized up,'” she said sharply. “I'm sure if you'd like to join them, arrangements can be made for you to return with the Thorns to Osfrid at the end of the summer.” While most of our household now accepted Mira, Miss Bradley obviously hadn't come to terms with having a Sirminican in our cohort.

“Of course not, ma'am,” said Mira. “Forgive me.” Her tone was as apologetic as mine had been, and like me, she wasn't sincere.

“I think if Mira had her way, she wouldn't get married,” I told Cedric on our way to the cargo room one day. Long weeks had passed, and amazingly, this ocean journey was nearing its end. “Sometimes I just feel like she's here because she has nothing better to do.”

He put his hand on my back to guide me around a pile of netting taking up part of the hall. Since this enterprise had begun, we'd grown remarkably casual around each other. “Compared to Sirminica, this
is
probably better,” he said.

“I suppose. But I wish she was more on board with what's in store. Whatever the means, this journey ends in us marrying in Adoria. She'd be happier if she was excited about that, just like the rest of us.”

As we neared the cargo room, we saw the captain and one of his
men hurrying through. We stepped to the side, letting them pass. As they did, I heard the sailor say, “It's no problem, Cap'n. I can handle it.”

“I'm sure you can,” came the gruff response. “But I don't like the looks of it. It came up too fast. I'll steer us the next hour and then hand off.”

Once they were clear of us, Cedric came to a halt. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

“Which part exactly?”

“The part about the captain taking the wheel.”

“So?”

Cedric's face was alight with excitement. “So, it means he won't be in his stateroom for a while. How would you like to add another crime to our growing list of offenses?”

I eyed him warily. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on.” He linked his arm through mine and turned us in a different direction from the cargo room. We soon entered the part of the ship used mostly by the crew. It made me uneasy, but Cedric walked with self-assurance. It seemed to make the crew members assume we were supposed to be there, and most of them were hustling about and preoccupied anyway.

We reached an ornate door that marked the captain's chambers. After a furtive glance around, Cedric pushed it open and hurried me inside. “I'm surprised it's unlocked,” I said.

“He usually only locks it when he sleeps. During the day, most crew wouldn't have the nerve to come in.”

“And we do?” Even so, I couldn't help being fascinated by what I saw. The captain's room was a combination office and bedroom and was more than twice the size of my room at Blue Spring Manor. An ornate desk immediately drew the eye to the center of the room, as did the window behind it. I couldn't even believe there
was
a window in here. Gray sky and a deeper gray sea showed through it. Brocade cloth hung around a bed on the room's far side, and other rich furnishings warmed the space as well: candelabras, leather-bound books, and
more. It was incredible to believe such a room existed when the rest of us were crammed into such humble quarters.

Another wave sent us rolling, and Cedric put a hand on the desk to steady himself. “I know you once said I could sell salvation to a priest . . . but there are some things even I can't get a captain to barter for. So . . . we'll just, ah, take them.”

“We steal now?” I asked.

“He won't miss it. You'll understand soon.” Cedric walked up to a wall covered in shelves, directing his gaze to a closed cupboard up by the ceiling. He glanced around, expression turning puzzled. “We want to get in there . . . but the ladder's gone. There was a small one in here the last time Father and I ate with him.”

I walked over to the desk's chair, but it was bolted down. Perhaps I should've viewed that as a sign we needed to get out, but I was too intrigued. I had to know what would actually reduce him to stealing. Seeing no other options, I returned to Cedric's side.

“Okay, then. Lift me up.”

“Hold on, what?”

“I can climb on those bookshelves—use them for footholds. I'll just need you to get me started. Unless you've changed your mind?”

“Eh, no . . .” The shocking suggestion seemed to give even him pause. “But can you climb in a dress?”

“Wouldn't be the first time,” I said, thinking of childhood days when I used to get scolded for climbing trees on our country estate. “I could take it off, but then you'd have to deal with the shock of seeing me half-naked again.”

“I'm still recovering from the first time,” he said wryly. He stood by the shelves. “Okay, let's go. No risk, no gain.”

He put his hands around my waist and helped hoist me high until I could place my feet on one shelf and grip a higher one with my hands. I was pretty sure he got a face full of skirts and petticoats in the maneuver, but in a few moments, he was able to let go as I maintained my hold and slowly scaled upward.

“I'll catch you if you fall,” he said helpfully.

“I won't fall. You've got me confused with some helpless girl who balks at dishonest behavior.”

“My mistake.”

Despite my bold words, I nearly lost my grip when the ship rocked sharply again. We'd had relatively calm waters so far, and today's troubled conditions had already made normal movement around the ship difficult—let alone when attempting to climb shelving in a dress.

I reached the upper cupboard and opened it, marveling at what I saw. Food. But not the dried, flavorless kind we consumed daily. A variety of jarred delicacies were displayed before me: dried currants, nuts, caramel brittle, lemon cookies . . . Along with them, mysterious boxes and bags contained other hidden delights.

“Do you see a small green tin?” Cedric asked. “That's what we want.”

After several moments of searching, I found it. I tossed the tin down to him and began my descent. It was a little easier this time, both because I was surer of my footholds and less scared of injury the nearer I got to the floor. When I was almost there, Cedric took hold of my waist again and swung me down the rest of the way.

“Easy,” I declared.

He started to let go, but another wave threw us both off. He held me tighter, shifting his weight so that we stayed upright. Some of the items in the room slid around with the sudden movement, but most were bolted down. Only when things calmed did he release me.

“Well?” I asked. “Was it worth it?”

He opened the tin. “You tell me.”

“Honey cakes! How?”

“The captain has a sweet tooth, and after you said you'd kill for some, I figured I'd better take action for everyone's safety. Want one?”

“No, I want them all,” I said. “But let's go back to the cargo room before we're caught here.”

We checked the hall before making a break for it, but again, most
crew barely noticed us. They moved swiftly and deftly over the rolling floor while Cedric and I had to occasionally stop and hold the walls. When we finally completed the journey to our room, we hurried back to my art corner to divvy up our spoils.

“You said you wanted them all,” Cedric teased when I held the tin out to him.

“You can have some as a commission of sorts. Even though I really did all the work.”

I plucked one out and popped it into my mouth, closing my eyes as that sweetness flooded me. “I ate these all the time back home,” I said after I'd swallowed it. “Never thought much of it. But after all that hardtack . . . I swear, this is now pretty much the best thing I've eaten in my entire life.”

We quickly went through the tin, and Cedric urged me to take the last one. “I should give this one to Mira,” I demurred. “She's the only friend I've got left.”

Cedric looked up. “Oh?”

“Well, I'm sure that's what Tamsin would say.”

“And the rest of us are just partners in crime.”

“The rest are just—oh.” I felt foolish. “Sorry. I wasn't thinking. I mean, yes. Of course you're my friend. I think.”

His smile was hard to read as he stretched his limbs before leaning against the wall beside me. “I don't think that makes me feel any better.”

“No, you are. I've just never thought of men as friends before. In my life they've always been . . . a means to an end.”

“Still not making me feel any better.”

“Conquests?”

“A slight improvement. Maybe being your conquest wouldn't be so bad.”

“After I got you to help me that first day? I figured you already were.” I looked over at him and saw a bit of honey near his lips. Without thinking, I leaned over and gently dabbed at it with my fingers.