Wasp (48 page)

‘How do you know these things?’

‘The Abbess’s mind is slipping right enough, and this slipped out of her mouth.’

The circle begins to fold in on itself. ‘Quite the tittle-tattle, aren’t you?’ Hummingbird says. ‘And what about your own saintly past? Will you make a declaration about that? Be truthful, Nightingale. I’m sure Wasp would be delighted to hear the circumstances that brought you to the House.’

‘I already told her, you bitch.’

A flash of powder, a sharp report. The lamp’s glass globe shatters. Burning oil sprays out in a bright yellow fountain, turning bodies into screaming torches. Fire is reflected a dozen times, a thousand times, from mirror to mirror. Infinity. The tide of flame engulfs Hummingbird, transforming her gown into a bright inferno. She spreads both arms wide. Her face is a yellow mask, her lips pulled back in a snarl. Glass cracks and shatters.

Nightingale catches hold of a whimpering Moth. ‘That door,’ she tells Wasp. ‘That one there.’

They plunge into the passage. Wasp pulls the door shut behind them. On the other side fingers scrabble on the glass, trying to find purchase.

‘Curse it, the Abbess is still in there,’ Nightingale says.

‘Will the fire spread?’

‘Not if it’s contained. Those rooms were originally built to hold wines and spirits. Have you seen the way brandy burns? Once the door is locked any fire would eventually choke on its own smoke. That’s why there are no windows.’

‘Is there any way to lock the door?’

Nightingale stares at her. ‘Wasp, do you know what you are saying?’

‘Is there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then lock it.’

Nightingale regards her for a moment longer, then reaches over and fiddles with a concealed catch. A
thunk
as a bolt slides home.

A few girls are milling about the hall. Some are still in their party dresses. Other faces peer through the banisters or stare from the upstairs landing.

No one leaves. Nobody runs away.

‘Go back to your rooms,’ Wasp says.

In a whisper they are gone.

Nightingale opens the front door. Cool air wafts into the lobby bringing a scratching of dead leaves. ‘Come on,’ she urges. ‘We have to reach the stables. I didn’t expect to leave by the front door.’

She runs, pulling Moth with her. Wasp follows. Crown Square is mercifully empty. They stumble along the side lane to the courtyard and stable block. Leonardo is waiting with one of the House coaches and a fresh team. Wasp baulks. Nightingale shoves her in the back. ‘Don’t worry. Leonardo has been converted to the path of the righteous.’

‘Very holy of him.’

‘He’s not stupid, and he can take me to the Fixer. Now hurry.’

Before they can climb aboard, the splintered dark disgorges a figure, as tall and black as the night surrounding him. He walks up to the coach, eyes luminous and full of sparks. Nightingale brandishes the empty pistol. He smiles. ‘I am not afraid of you or your gun, Anna.’

‘It makes little difference to me whether I pull the trigger or not,’ Nightingale retorts. ‘You won’t stop me. I won’t be a prisoner any longer.’

Kingfisher shrugs. ‘Perhaps you will kill me. Then again you might miss, or the pistol could misfire. Much has taken place these past few weeks.’

‘Fetch your little foundling from wherever you’ve hidden her and leave.’

‘A storm has finally broken in the House, yes?’

‘More like the end of the world. Don’t worry, your stolen girls are safe with me. Go back to your homeland.’

‘When my countrymen are still here? No, Anna, this city has not seen the back of me. I have more hunting to do. Remember that whenever it gets dark.’

‘You have no money, Kingfisher. The Abbess owned everything.’

‘No, not everything. I have my mementoes, which are all I shall claim back from this place. Go follow your own path, Anna, and leave me to mine.’

In a breath he’s gone.

Once his charges are aboard, Leonardo sends the team out of the Square at a fast trot. Wasp settles back on the seat, breathing hard. Nightingale hands her a blanket and wraps another around Moth’s shoulders. The girl is crying softly, her face in her hands.

‘What now?’ Wasp says. ‘Have we left one disaster only to fall into something worse? Who were those other people with Hummingbird?’

‘Politicians and minor gentry, selling themselves to the House in the hope of grasping a bigger slice of an already too rich cake.’

‘Did you have a part in any of this?’

She shakes her head. ‘If that’s what Hummingbird suggested then it isn’t true.’

‘You look ill.’

‘Worse is to come. But I shall live through it. I have to live through it because I’ve been given a chance to start afresh.’

‘Where?’

‘A new world. There’s a place for me, I think. And my daughter.’

‘Nightingale, you’ll—’

‘Anna. My name is Anna Torrance.’

‘Anna, you’ll see your child?’

She holds up a letter. The wax seal is broken. ‘The Fixer’s legacy. There’s no telling if the people caring for her will wish to give her up, or if she’ll want to leave the only parents she’s known. But it’s only right she learns about her mother even if she never sees me again. She’ll be so young, and I don’t even know her name. I never had the time or wits to choose one. I need to prove I deserve her.’

‘Why the notes? About the goings-on in the House? Things would’ve been so much clearer if you’d spoken to me.’

‘I couldn’t tell you anything to your face without your thinking it was another cruel game. I’m sorry for everything.’

‘What if it had gone wrong? We could all have died tonight.’

‘I know. ’

‘One of the men there, Richard, offered help if I ever wanted to leave the House. I’d planned to go with Moth. Like the Mirror Room, that notion has gone up in flames.’

‘I know of him. He has his bank in a thumbscrew thanks to the House’s influence. He thought to carve quite a career for himself. Others were bribing Hummingbird with cartloads of money to obtain favours. The whole city was choking on her poison. She thought me too witless to know what was going on around me, or too helpless to intervene if I did.’

‘Where do we go now?’

‘Leonardo knows a guesthouse about a mile outside the city boundary. The landlord keeps his counsel and you won’t be troubled. You can catch your breath.’

‘Moth isn’t going with you?’

‘I fear the Fixer has overstretched himself already.’

Moth sits up. ‘I won’t be parted from Bethany.’

Wasp squeezes her arm. ‘You don’t need me. You’ve suffered hardships that would drive me from my wits. You are stronger than I am.’

Anna gives a tight smile. Perspiration is standing out on her forehead in fat, translucent drops. ‘Moth is a brave girl. I confess, she had more faith in you than I. Like Hummingbird, I was curious as to where your true loyalties lay.’

Wasp slumps on the seat. ‘I’m glad you thought I was worth it.’

‘I took you to Russell Hall to help you make a decision. Has that decision been made?’

‘I suspect I made it the moment I told you to lock the Mirror Room door.’

Constance throws a fit when she sees who’s standing on the front step. She doesn’t utter a word, merely flaps her hands before running back inside. The door swings on its hinges, squeezing the warm air spilling out of the hallway.
At least she didn’t slam it in my face,
Wasp thinks. She had a morbid image of standing in a darkening street while the world fell asleep around her.

Finally another figure appears on the threshold.

‘Hello, Mother Joan,’ Wasp says, nudging Moth forward. ‘My friend needs help. I told her I’d find her a home.’

Mother Joan frowns. ‘I don’t understand. That girl is troublesome. Why bring her to my door again?’

‘You gave me another chance.’

Mother Joan glances at the sobbing young woman then ushers them both inside. Standing in the parlour, with no sign of the chequerboard and the dressing-up clothes locked away, Wasp keeps her explanation brief. Mother Joan listens without judgement. ‘You would have her become my charge?’ she says finally.

‘It doesn’t have to be forever, but it might prove a blessing for both of you. Moth can’t be Polly, or one of Polly’s friends. She’s no good at putting on an act and you said you’re tired of pretence. Take her as she is. I’m not saying it won’t be difficult.’

‘I daresay it will take perseverance, but in the words of my husband I can be a stubborn old crow. A young voice in the house again would be a sweet and welcome thing. Mr Slocombe would agree. If the girl is willing then so am I.’

‘I can still come and see you,’ Wasp tells Moth. ‘This is a dear, dear lady. You’ll be happy, I promise.’

‘Very well,’ Moth sniffs. ‘If you think I ought to stay here then I shall.’

‘And what of you, Bethany?’ Mother Joan asks. ‘Have you found a home anywhere?’

Wasp glances back into the street. ‘I hope so.’

The legal and political wrangle following the events at the House is matched in scandal only by its dearth of reliable witnesses. Two clients, desperate to escape the flames, managed to force open the back door with the sheer weight of their overstuffed bodies. To those abroad in the streets, the sight of screaming men — one with his hair on fire — was enough to send them scurrying back into their homes. Others, including Hummingbird and the Abbess, were presumed burned to their bones. The blaze, as Nightingale predicted, did not spread.

There is an inquiry of sorts, held in a discreet courtroom with no public access. The examiner is determined proceedings will not degenerate into a rowdy farce. Helping with the questioning is an old hand on the city benches, one Mr Slocombe. Down to the cuffs of his jacket he cuts an impressive figure.

Wasp, whose stay at the inn has been paid for by the Slocombes, is present during Moth’s questioning. The examiner, at Mr Slocombe’s prompting, is gentle. Moth weeps a lot, and elicits a few gasps, but in the end can tell the hearing very little.

Wasp’s interrogation follows a similar pattern, and she answers everything as honestly as she dares. At one point she’s obliged to reveal her branded arm. Every neck in the place stretches to catch a peek.

Mr Slocombe is called upon to make a brief statement. He says he became involved with the House only to help his spouse, and expressed horror at the growing corruption within. Mother Joan herself sits in the gallery, nothing on her face betraying what she might be thinking. ‘I was aware my wife was becoming dependent on these visits,’ Mr Slocombe explains, ‘but had no notion of the level of influence the House hoped to wield over me.’

At the end of the day, Wasp is intercepted by Mother Joan, who cuts an elegant figure in ivory gown and bonnet. ‘My husband tells me no further action is to be taken,’ she says. ‘Everything of import has been dealt with discreetly. They’ll claim you’re just another bawdy house in a city full of such dens.’

She presses a note into Wasp’s hand. ‘Would you like me to take you?’ she asks, once Wasp has read the message.