These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel (29 page)

“But you were different. You knew how hopeless the task was, and you didn’t put much faith in your skills, but there was still a fire, an ambition, and it was not a selfish one. It
was in service of something beyond yourself. You saw my life for what it was and imagined a better one.”

She took my hand and gave me a steady smile. “You are so restless, Miss Wyndham! I know that you will be compelled, soul and spirit, to achieve great things and help the world. It will be
a beautiful life.”

Her eyes probed into mine, and I wanted to look at anything but her. “I truly do like you—you remind me so much of him. But as drawn to Sebastian as you may be, you will both end up
heartbroken because of that restlessness, that energy. He may not love me the same way he could you, but neither will I run off at a moment’s notice. I will be a home for him, an anchor. With
my illness, I didn’t know what would happen, but thanks to your cure . . . thanks to you, I will be there for him. Forever.”

Her breathing steady, she turned away and sat composed, silently staring back out the window. I lost my tongue along with all my other functions. The air between us felt like a thin pane of
glass that would shatter with the slightest movement.

But it was all presumption. It had to be. Miss Lodge barely knew me. Just because I could handle Sebastian’s touch, I hadn’t expected it to mean anything more. I hadn’t even
thought about what would happen after he finished helping me. What did I really suppose he would do? Miss Grey was evidence that someone could control their powers if they had motivation, and I
could not imagine anyone more motivated to do that than Sebastian. He’s been searching for a cure for years, and he’s known Miss Lodge for longer. Pressing my forehead to the cloudy
pane, cold sinking into my skin, I watched the city flow and melt by, reminding myself that I should be feeling nothing.

When we entered the darkened Lodge home, I sent two new messages to Mr. Kent and Miss Grey, informing them of my newer lodgings and confirming the next morning’s plans. Sebastian needed no
such letter.

Miss Lodge showed me to a small, well-appointed room and kindly informed me that I had a place to stay for however long I required. The bed was already turned down, and I climbed onto the firm,
nonsagging mattress with a child’s lack of coordination and pulled the warm quilts up to my neck. My ears felt hot, and the more I thought about my breathing, the more irregular it became. I
fell asleep whispering to that confused, frustrated part of me that had held onto an abstract hope: “You stupid girl, what did you think? Why would you even care? It’s fine. It’s
good, even!”

And though I managed to convince the pillow, I am not sure I managed to convince myself.

“I
SAW
R
OSE
. . . I—I saw her with Dr. Beck,” Miss Grey gasped, clutching me
tightly.

I responded with marvelous coherency. “When—how—you—”

She pulled herself away and walked the length of the Lodges’ parlor, fingers of early-morning sunlight reflecting off her tearstained face. “In my dreams. Yesterday.”

“What did you see? Do you know where she is?” I asked, standing at the edge of the room, both giving her space and fearing to go farther inside.

She tried to steady her breathing by leaning on a chair. “No, no, I’m sorry, Evelyn, I’m so sorry, I only saw a brief glimpse. Dr. Beck, Claude, and Mr. Hale were discussing
her and what to do next.”

“Was she . . . well?”

“I . . . I—I don’t know. She was weak and injured . . . she had cuts and bruises all over. And Dr. Beck was furious. He said she was being stubborn and refusing to heal, and he
had no choice but to . . . find the organ that does it.”

I was wide awake now. My insides wrenched up like never before. This is what Arthur and William had said. He’ll do anything for his research.

“They were planning to go to his surgical laboratory,” she continued. “All I had to do was keep watching and follow them. But I was too agitated, and I only woke myself
up.”

I steadied my shaking hand and reminded myself that I would never find her if I kept panicking. It hasn’t happened yet. I organized my thoughts piece by piece and finally managed to find
my words. “They never said an address?”

She shook her head miserably. “I lost them before they left.”

Even with Miss Grey’s power, we couldn’t do anything, except learn how much more dire the situation was. But it was motivation enough for me. I glanced at the ticking clock on the
mantel. “Now we have all the more reason to find her as soon as possible,” I said in the strongest voice I could hold. “We must go—it’s almost eight o’clock.
Let’s hope Mr. Kent will have a plan.”

Shakily, Miss Grey nodded and followed me to the carriage, and within a minute, we were clattering to our destination.

On the way, I recounted what had happened since we last spoke: the play, the public house, Camille, and Lady Kent. Miss Grey finally explained why she had been unavailable. She had taken
laudanum to aid her sleep and spent hours desperately trying to find my sister with another dream. As a result, she missed the entire day, only receiving my messages this morning. As if she
hadn’t already given me enough apologies, she continued to pour them out for abandoning me and for losing Rose again. Only by the time we arrived at Mr. Kent’s had I managed to convince
her that all was forgiven and that I healed rather quickly, in both senses.

Miss Gates let us into the bright, empty entrance hall, where Mr. Kent and Robert happened to be making their way downstairs.

“Ah, Miss Wyndham. A lovely day to solve cases, don’t you think? Glorious lamp of heaven and all,” Mr. Kent said, peering down from the top of the stairs. Sun streaked across
his face as he descended.

“Not exactly,” I replied. “We don’t have much time left.”

“That’s what I was saying with my poetic allusions. Carpe diem. Gather our rosebuds as we may.”

“I just hope you have a plan.”

“Not only do I have a plan, but I have a plan for the picnic we will all surely have time for after,” Mr. Kent said, tapping his cane.

Behind the energetic Mr. Kent followed Robert. In contrast, his movements were a bit sluggish, but they were still a dramatic improvement over the collapsed heap he was last night.

“Robert, are you well?” I asked.

“Evelyn, will you please tell me what is going on?” he barked.

I was taken aback by the sudden anger. “I don’t know—”

“Oh, don’t bother with him,” Mr. Kent said as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve already tried to explain everything to him, and he refuses to believe me.
He’s convinced we’ve concocted this fantastical story to hide the truth that she’s run off with Mr. Braddock.”

“I don’t care about her virtue!” Robert shouted.

Mr. Kent shook his head and closed his eyes, exasperated. “Neither do we, Robert. Neither do we.”

Robert crossed his arms and remained halfway up the stairs in a stubborn sulk, his attention on a seascape painting beside him.

“Very well, no time for that, then. Now, introductions,” I said, gesturing between him and Miss Grey. “You have both heard of each other. Miss Grey, meet my friend Nicholas
Kent. Mr. Kent, my governess, Alice Grey.”

Mr. Kent bowed and reached out his hand, and Miss Grey let him take it, though she appeared pained.

“Mr. Kent. Have we—” Miss Grey raised her eyebrows and spoke tautly. “Oh. Yes. Excuse me,
Mr. Kent.
Evelyn, perhaps we might speak in private?”

“At this very moment?” I asked.

“It is urgent.”

Mr. Kent nodded politely, retracting his hand to gesture down his narrow hallway. Miss Grey shuffled me into a small parlor, oddly decorated with all sorts of artwork of maritime disasters,
before shutting the door behind her.

“How well do you know this man?” she whispered.

“Fairly well . . . I met him during the last season. Why do you ask?”

Her eyes flitted about the room, as if she were checking for eavesdroppers. “I’ve seen him in my dreams.”

“Your dreams? Then . . .”

No. That couldn’t be true.

Miss Grey tightened her lips and nodded.

“So . . . he has an ability, too?” I asked in a daze.

“A talent for learning the truth. Any question he asks will receive an honest response. One is simply compelled to answer him. I’ve never seen anyone resist.”

I was thunderstruck. The memories hit me by degrees. The search, the ball, the entire blasted season! I had been candid in every conversation with him, believing I couldn’t hold my tongue
or that he was trustworthy. But it had been a power—his awful, intrusive power.

I tightened my fists and threw open the door, ready to accuse him. One angry step forward was all I could manage before Miss Grey seized my shoulder. “Evelyn, wait! Now is not the
time.”

“He manipulated me!” I whispered in a fury. “All of us! With his every word!”

“Yet his assistance is extremely valuable. You can trust his plan if he can retrieve information from anyone who may have clues, whether they want to or not.”

She was right. I stepped back into the parlor to quell my anger with distractions. Cracked ships in glass bottles. Broken compasses. A Turner print of a shipwreck on raging seas. I was almost
glad it had wrecked.

I couldn’t take any more of this. The stories and secrets. The facades and frauds. I missed my life from a week ago, when my biggest complaints were about the poor personalities of
Englishmen. At least I knew what they were. I was sick of putting my trust in Mr. Kent and Sebastian and constantly being wrong. Camille was completely mad—there was nothing fun about peeling
off layers, constantly finding you believed in someone who did not exist. I wanted to see behind the masks and see their true expressions, their true beliefs, their true selves. Not just endless
lies.

“Are you all right?” Miss Grey asked.

“Yes, I just—there have been too many surprises this past week. It all seems so absurd. Do I know anyone who does not have an ability?”

“I have wondered that, too. There must be something that draws us together, an instinctive knowledge—”

The doorbell rang across the house and cut our conversation short. We hurried back to the entrance hall to find Sebastian, Robert, and Mr. Kent locked in an awkward three-way standoff.

“Evelyn, what is the meaning of this?” Robert exclaimed. “Why is he here?”

“A fine welcome, Robert,” I said. “As you can see, he hasn’t run off with Rose. He’s been incredibly helpful with the search.”

I turned to Sebastian, and Miss Lodge’s words pounded in my head. I had to remain cordial and polite, nothing more. He just wants to settle his debt to me and then go off to be with
her.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” I said to him, trying to rest my gaze on his most innocuous part, which seemed to be his left earlobe. “That is the exceedingly polite Robert
Elliot, this is my former governess, Miss Alice Grey, and you’ve already been acquainted with Mr. Kent.”

He swiftly bowed to greet them, while Robert persisted. “So she’s run off with this Dr. Beck, then? My God!”

“She’s run off with no one,” I snapped.

Mr. Kent smiled smarmily and crossed his arms with a commanding air. “First, I want to ask Mr. Braddock a few questions. Do you have any good ideas where Dr. Beck might now be?”

“No,” he muttered.

“And do you know how we might combat his ability to see the future?”

“No, I’m sorry, I do not.”

Mr. Kent looked pleased by Sebastian’s shortcomings.

Robert still remained clueless. “This is absurd. I must go to the police. You’re all mad!” he exclaimed.

“We can trust Mr. Braddock,” Miss Grey replied, looking pointedly at Mr. Kent. “At the very least, you know he is telling the truth.”

“Evelyn, was Miss Grey not dismissed from your house hold for losing her wits?” Robert asked.

“Enough!” I yelled. The sound echoed across the room, up the stairs, and through the entire household. Everyone fell silent. “Robert, it might help to actually listen and
consider the possibility of these abilities. Otherwise, you will find yourself in the minority.”

“Of course. Because it’s so easy to believe in something so ridiculous,” he said, looking around the room for agreement.

I gave him a glare. “You can either remain quiet and help, or perhaps you might want to just return to that public house, drown your sorrows, and share your drawings with those other
useless lumps. Actually, send one of them back here—they will be of far more use to us.”

Robert fumed and bit his lip, unable to think of a response. Child.

“Then that settles the matter,” Mr. Kent said, putting his hand on Robert’s shoulder only to have it shaken off. “She makes a sound point.”

Ha! As if he were any better.

“We are here to find Rose,” I continued. “Everything else can be argued about later. Mr. Kent, you said you had a grand plan. Please, enlighten us.”

He had the answer ready. “We start with the most concrete location. The house where you first found them.”

“There is nothing there,” Sebastian said. “It’s been abandoned.”