The Master of Heathcrest Hall (22 page)

If this were to occur, well-to-do families who were known to be loyal to the Crown would no longer be safe in the West Country. Therefore, Dr. Lawrent was returning to County Westmorain with all possible haste to remove Mrs. Lawrent from their home there, as well as their daughter, who was a widow and dwelled with them along with her several children. Dr. Lawrent’s intention was to take them to the south of Altania, far from the troubles, to live with Mrs. Lawrent’s sister. If by then affairs at the university had gone back to their usual state, he would consider returning to the city—but only if it could be assured his family would be safe in the south.

It was deep in the middle of a long umbral when Dr. Lawrent departed. He was to go as a passenger with the post, that being the safest way to travel these days, for it was always accompanied by a guard of soldiers. While it might have been more pleasant to have remained in their beds, the post always kept to its timetables whether it was dark or light, and so they went out into the cold and dark to bid the doctor farewell.

“I wish you could have stayed longer,” Ivy told him as he took her hands in his.

“As do I,” the doctor replied, “but present affairs demand otherwise. Like the moths of County Dorn, we must all adapt to our new circumstances, lest the birds spy us and pluck us up.”

Ivy laughed at this. “I will endeavor to find a way to use some heretofore unknown trait in my possession to help me avoid them.”

One last time, he peered at her over the rims of his spectacles. “Yes, I imagine that you will, Lady Quent.”

Ivy didn’t know how to respond to this. Then Dr. Lawrent was shaking Mr. Quent’s hand and bidding good-bye to Lily and Rose. Moments later he was in the waiting carriage, a lantern hanging from the driver’s bench, and away into the night. Ivy took Mr.
Quent’s arm, walking back through the gate and up the walk to the house while Lily and Rose hurried ahead, eager to retreat from the chilly air.

As they entered the house, Ivy thought of Dr. Lawrent’s reason for returning to County Westmorain, and she thought also of the others whom she knew there.

“What is it, Ivoleyn?”

She must have sighed without realizing it. Mr. Quent shut the door behind them and regarded her, concern in his brown eyes.

“I was just thinking of Mr. Samonds, and of Miss Samonds,” she said. “I worry they will … that is, I do not think that they have any close family outside of County Westmorain with whom they might live.”

“Ah,” he said with a deep exhalation, and he reached for her hands, folding them inside his own. In public he made a habit of keeping his left hand in his coat pocket to hide the fact that it was bereft of its last two digits, but he had long since ceased making any attempt to conceal his old injury from Ivy or her sisters.

“It is kind of you to be concerned for the Samondses,” he said. “Yet I do not think you should worry for them too much. Most people in County Westmorain would not have to search through many cousins to find one across the border in Torland. While those who hail from the east, and who have known ties to the Crown—like Dr. Lawrent—might have cause for concern, I do not think Mr. Samonds and his aunt have any great need to fear. If rebels from Torland were to cross the border, they would be bent on marching as swiftly as they could toward Invarel. I doubt they would remain in Westmorain for long. But let us hope it will not come to that. The army has not abandoned the border yet, and they will likely never do so.”

As always, her husband spoke with much wisdom, and Ivy was reassured by his words. Only then she thought of what he had said about those who had known ties to the Crown.

“The Samondses may be well, but we would not be able to say the same if we were to return, would we? We cannot go back to Heathcrest Hall.”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No, Ivoleyn. I do not think that would be wise, at least not at present. I hope circumstances will change and allow us to return there one day, but for now it is best if we remain here in the city.”

Ivy could not help feeling a sadness at this response. Of late, she had found herself thinking of Heathcrest Hall often. The city seemed increasingly confining, and a desire had grown within her to see the wildness of the moors and fells around Heathcrest once again.

Well, there was no use in fretting about it. Nor would it be anything other than churlish of her to complain about their present circumstance. They were perfectly safe here in the city, and had nothing to be concerned about, unlike Dr. Lawrent.

She smiled and kissed Mr. Quent’s cheek to assure him she was well. After that, having various missives from other inquirers he needed to read and respond to, he retreated to his study. Ivy had her own work she wished to see to, but so far there had been no opportunity. Both of the lumenals since Mr. Quent’s return had been brief, and she had not had an opportunity to travel to Mr. Mundy’s shop off Greenly Circle.

Supposing she might as well make herself useful in the interim, Ivy carried a lamp into the parlor, intending to work on the household ledger. More than once, Mr. Quent had told her she did not need to maintain the ledger herself, for his bank employed clerks who could manage such things. All the same, Ivy had been reluctant to give up the responsibility. Just because they did not want for money did not mean they should be frivolous with it, and tallying the expenses of the household helped her to keep a good sense of the cost of everything—a number which was steadily rising these days.

The parlor was empty, and every bit as cold as the little parlor at Whitward Street used to be during long umbrals. Ivy rang for a maid to come stoke the fire. But as one did not immediately appear, she went to the fireplace and stirred it up herself, adding several pieces of coal. Once the fire was blazing nicely, she went to the table where she kept the ledger.

She found this in a chaotic state, being littered with books and newspapers and sheets of music all left there in great disarray—by Lily, no doubt. With a sigh, she began pushing these aside in search of the ledger. At last her hands seized upon a large volume, and she pulled it out from the heap. Her grip upon it proved faulty, though, and the heavy book slipped from her grasp. As it did, it fell open upon the table.

It was not, she saw at once, the ledger.

Rather than rows of expenditures, the exposed pages were filled with drawings done in charcoal. On one side was what appeared to be a scene from a play. Beneath the ornate curve of a proscenium arch, figures rendered in elegant lines moved upon a stage made to look like a forest. On the facing page were a number of small portraits and vignettes that could only be details of the figures on the stage. They showed young men with antlers sprouting from their brows or rising from the forms of horses in the guise of centaurs. The drawings were all extremely well done, having a remarkable verisimilitude, while at the same time retaining a freeness that allowed them to suggest and imply as well as to depict.

Fascinated, Ivy turned through the pages. They were all filled with drawings depicting dramatic and mythical scenes, along with numerous illustrations that showed particular bits of staging or scene dress, or players in their costumes. As she looked through the folio, Ivy noticed that many of the young men were depicted in a similar fashion, with fine, classical features as well as long dark hair and dark eyes. Amazed as Ivy was at the beauty of the drawings, a concern began to grow in her. These particular portraits were, she thought, very familiar seeming.

Footsteps sounded from behind her. The maid must finally have come.

“It’s all right,” Ivy said, turning another page. “I stoked the fire myself.”

“Ivy! What are you doing?”

Startled, Ivy let the page fall and turned around. Lily stood in the door of the parlor, her brown eyes wide. A sudden shame
filled Ivy. She had been so fascinated by the drawings that she had not stopped to consider what she was doing. Now she was mortified by her behavior.

“Lily,” she said with a gasp. “It wasn’t my intention … that is, I was looking for the ledger. Only I came upon this by mistake.”

All color drained from Lily’s face, and she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “You were looking through my folio. I never thought
you
would do such a thing, Ivy.”

Ivy suffered a severe pang. “I’m so sorry. It fell open by accident when I pulled it out from the other papers.”

“By accident? Really, Ivy, if you’re going to snoop through my things, at least have the courage to tell the truth of it! It only makes it worse that you speak a falsehood about it.”

Ivy was so astonished by this accusation that she could not find the words to defend herself; though she supposed the case against her did appear very bad. Lily hurried up to the table and slammed the folio shut.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy said again. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t even,” Lily said, glaring at her through narrowed eyes. With a rough swipe of her hand, she brushed the tears from her cheek, then took up the folio and rushed from the parlor.

Ivy could only stare after her. Despite the fire crackling on the hearth, she felt miserably cold. To have violated her sister’s privacy like that was awful. Yes, it had been an accident that the folio had come open, but Ivy had chosen to turn through its pages. There was no excuse for it.

And yet, now that she had, she could not say that there had been no benefit to her transgression. This was not a justification for what Ivy had done, but now that she had seen the drawings, she could not pretend she did not know what they portended. Ivy thought again of the many vignettes of the one particular player—the handsome one with long, dark hair—and she supposed she knew now why Lily had expressed so little desire to go to parties and dances where she might meet eligible partners. There was only one young man who engaged her fancies.

Ivy wasn’t certain what to do with this knowledge. She would
have to speak to Mr. Quent about it. And eventually she would have to speak to Lily as well—though likely she would have to wait until some time passed before Lily would speak to
her
. In the meantime, she might as well work on the ledger. She went to the fireplace for a minute to warm her hands, and then with much less anticipation than before, she searched for the ledger under the papers on the table. Finding it, she started on her task.

H
ER FINGERS ACHED from the chill and from the many lines she had filled with ink by the time Mr. Quent came into the parlor. He encouraged her to set down her pen and then took up her right hand.

“But it’s nearly frozen!” he exclaimed. He rubbed her hand gently, and blew upon it, until at last it began to grow warm. “Well, are we paupers yet?”

“No, but candles have become more expensive than ever,” Ivy said as she turned back to the table and looked at the figures in the ledger. “Do you see? We are spending nearly as much on them in a month as I used to spend on the whole of our household at Whitward Street.”

He came in close behind her and laid his hands upon her shoulders. “You know we have no need to worry over the expense, Ivoleyn.”

“But what of all those who are less fortunate than we? It seems there have been more long umbrals of late, and I read in the broadsheets that some astrographers believe even longer spans of darkness are to come. I fear that soon people won’t be able to afford candles at all. But how can they read or cook or go about their business without any light to see by?”

“There will be candles for them—some at least.”

She shut the ledger and regarded him. “How so?”

“The Crown has been, for at least two years now, buying candles and lamp oil and keeping them in large stores. If the long umbrals continue, the government will begin delivering rations
out of these stores to the people—not in large quantities, but enough to keep at least a little light in their houses. It is seen as an important measure to maintain order in the realm and to ensure commerce continues. For without any light, havoc would ensue.”

Ivy was pleased to learn this, but puzzled as well. “I am glad for this news, yet I can only wonder why the government has for so long been buying up candles.” Even as she said this, she realized the truth of it. “But they’ve known all this while, haven’t they? The government has known that the lengths of lumenals and umbrals would become unpredictable, and that longer and longer umbrals would come.”

“Known?” He stroked his beard. “No, it has not been known. But suspected, yes, by some at least.”

“By the inquirers, you mean?”

“Yes, by the inquirers. Or rather, by Lord Rafferdy. I am not certain how he apprehended what he did, though he hinted to me once that it was from Earl Rylend that some of this knowledge came.”

Ivy considered this in light of her own knowledge. Earl Rylend had possessed a deep interest in magick, and he and Lord Rafferdy had been close companions in their youth. It was Rylend who had led the elder Rafferdy, along with Lord Marsdel, into the cave in the far south of the Empire where they had discovered the Eye of Ran-Yahgren, the artifact which acted as a sort of window that looked upon the surface of the planet Cerephus.

“Earl Rylend must have known about Cerephus, just as my father did, and how it would affect the lengths of days and nights.”

Mr. Quent nodded. “I must suppose that is the case. When he first asked me to become an inquirer, Lord Rafferdy told me that he believed a darkness was coming.”

“You mean like the one the broadsheets say is coming—a greatnight that will go on and on, longer than any other ever before?”

“Yes, a darkness like that. But more than that, I think. Several times over the years, Lord Rafferdy spoke to me of a darkness that would descend upon the world, and I do not think he meant simply
an umbral of exceptional duration. He said also that the Wyrdwood had some role to play in all of these happenings, and that was why he accepted the post as lord inquirer.” He regarded her, his brown eyes solemn beneath a furrowed brow. “Discerning things as we do now, I can only believe he understood much.”

Ivy had to think that was indeed the case—that Lord Rafferdy had been aware of Cerephus and how it would seek to draw near to Altania, like a ship with red sails making for the green shore ahead. Whether he had known of the shadowed beings who journeyed upon that vessel, she did not know, but certainly Lord Rafferdy had known a dark time was coming.