Comeuppance Served Cold, page 5
After a second bad night, Fiona had slept straight through the night before as the effects of shimmer-shim left her body. Dolly thought they were past the worst of it.
She flung open the door. The draperies danced in the breeze. The room was empty, and the window stood half-open. She hurried over to it and looked down. The top of Fiona’s head gleamed in the faint light as the girl climbed down the gutter drainpipe.
“Fiona!” Dolly did not want to raise her voice and awaken the entire household, but she projected as firmly as she could. Fiona looked up but continued her climb.
Dolly ran out of the room and down the servants’ staircase. Curse the girl. She switched on the light in the kitchen. If Mrs. Chambers had moved the key . . . but it was there, hanging on a hook above the icebox. Dolly snatched it and opened the door, barreling into the garden and grabbing Fiona by both arms as the girl turned to run across the soft, green lawn.
Fiona twisted. “Let go! I was just going out for air!”
“Through the window?”
Fiona pulled against Dolly’s grip. The yellow light from the kitchen flashed off a bit of metal on her hand. Shadow covered them, and Dolly looked back. Someone blocked the path of light from the kitchen. She recognized the golden hair.
“Fiona? Where were you going?” Francis asked, stepping out into the garden.
“No place,” Fiona said. Dolly didn’t let go of her arm. The girl had dressed in the wide-legged trousers and a long black sweater. Dolly looked down at Fiona’s thin-soled flats. Her own bare toes already tingled from the cold.
“You sister had a night terror,” Dolly said. “It’s rare but not unheard of with shimmer-shim withdrawal.”
“She managed to get dressed, in the midst of this terror?”
“I can speak for myself,” Fiona said.
“Well?”
“Well, I . . .” She flashed Dolly a glance. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
“There are stories of people cooking meals or even driving vehicles while in this state,” Dolly said.
Francis nodded. “Sure. Stories.”
“Come on, Fiona. I don’t want you to get a chill.” Dolly dragged her back to the kitchen door. After a moment, Francis stepped out of the way.
Dolly steered them down the hallway.
“Dolly—”
“Not a word from you,” she said to Fiona. “Not one word.”
Fiona was silent. Dolly’s fingers crushed wool and flesh, and she forced herself to relax her grip. She guided Fiona back into her room, shut the door, and leaned against it. Gusts of cool air wafted through the window.
“That,” Dolly said, “was stupid.”
Fiona sat down on her bed, pressed against the headboard, and drew up her knees. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“We damned well will.” Dolly marched across the room and slammed the window. “Just where were you going?”
“To Violet’s, I guess. I needed a drink.”
“You’re wearing scent,” Dolly said.
“Yes? I do, sometimes.”
Dolly walked over to the bed. “What’s this ring? You’ve never worn it before.” She took Fiona’s hand. The ring was a narrow strip of gold entwined with small, enameled flowers.
“It’s just an old ring. Nothing special.”
“Who is he?”
Fiona stared up at her. “What? You—”
Dolly looked at the door and back.
Fiona closed her mouth. After a breath, she said, “His name’s Robert. Robert Loughlin. Rob.”
“How did he contact you? Or did you contact him? Mrs. Chambers? She’s sentimental—is she your messenger? Was he going to pick you up, since you no longer have a car?”
“He wasn’t. I was . . .” Fiona pulled her pillow across her knees. “I was going to walk down to the bottom of the hill. There’s an all-night diner there. I was going to use their telephone to call him and have him meet me.”
“You were going to walk two miles down Broadway Avenue in those shoes.” Dolly gestured to Fiona’s shoes. “Your feet would have been a mass of blisters. That’s a nice note for your romantic tryst.”
Fiona began to sob, soft yelps bursting out of her, her face pressed against the pillow.
Dolly walked away from the bed and went into the corridor. Francis Earnshaw leaned against the wall beside her bedroom door.
“I wonder why your father bothered to hire me, when you’re such a capable shadow,” Dolly said.
Francis’s teeth flashed. “I wonder that myself,” he said. “Seriously, I can’t nursemaid Baby Sister every minute. I have work. The Order of Saint Michael the Protector is important work, Dolly.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“I can’t worry about what Fiona is going to do to embarrass herself.”
“Fiona is fine. I’ll watch over her.”
He said, “You must be a very light sleeper.”
“I have to be.”
He looked at the door to her room. “Are you going back to bed?”
“I’ll spend the night in her room.”
He straightened and stroked the breast of his dressing gown, which, in the light, she could see was royal blue. “You have lovely hair, Dolly.”
“Good night, Francis.”
She went inside and shut the door. Fiona lay curled up with her cheek pressed against the pillow, asleep.
* * *
Dolly woke with a stiff neck from her slumber in the chair. While she was helping Fiona dress, she noticed a ring of light-blue marks on her arm. “I bruised you,” she said.
Fiona shrugged. “I didn’t notice.” Her eyes were dull. As she pulled a comb through her hair, she said, “I’m sorry. I just . . . I wonder if Daddy will lock me in the attic now.”
“Let’s hope not.” Dolly feared Earnshaw’s reaction would involve sending Fiona into seclusion somewhere.
Earnshaw was not in the breakfast room, but as Dolly finished up her eggs, Inez came in. “Miss, the master would like to see you in his study.”
Fiona jerked and splashed coffee into her saucer. Dolly swallowed and said, “Thank you, Inez.” She stood, her heart pounding, and went into the Earnshaw study, once again facing Ambrose Earnshaw across his wide ebony desk.
“Francis tells me Fiona tried to pull a runner last night,” he said.
“Yes. I thought she was having a night terror. Frankly, Mr. Earnshaw, I had no idea Fiona was so athletic.”
Earnshaw folded his hands. “My daughter does not have magic, or any particular intelligence, but she’s determined,” he said. “Francis thought you acquitted yourself well.”
“I caught her before she embarrassed herself,” Dolly said. “She said something about a boy.”
“Yes. Robert Loughlin. It’s unfortunate, but Fiona isn’t a child anymore, and grown-ups have to do unpleasant things sometimes.”
“He’s not in your social class, I take it,” Dolly said.
Earnshaw shrugged. “He’s with the police, and his father is a judge, but he isn’t magical. The purity of the magical bloodline is one of our greatest responsibilities, Dolly. You’re not magical yourself, so perhaps it’s hard to understand the importance of that duty.”
“Oh, it isn’t hard at all,” Dolly said. “How did Fiona manage to meet a policeman? He didn’t arrest her, I hope.”
“They met here,” Earnshaw said, after a pause. “His father, as I said, is a judge. As the commissioner, I needed some advice on a magical matter, and Judge Loughlin was very helpful. I was so focused on our discussion, I did not see what was happening farther down the table.”
“So Fiona might have thought he was, at least, an acceptable prospect.”
“My daughter didn’t think, I’m afraid. She let her passions fly away with her.”
“Perhaps if someone spoke to this young man . . .”
Earnshaw shook his head. “He is as unreasonable as she is. He has taken a dislike to Francis now and has . . . accused him of things. He won’t listen.” He straightened, and Dolly could tell he was about to announce a decision.
“I think having Fiona here in town is a poor solution,” Earnshaw said. “We have a cottage on Orcas Island, in the Sound. We’ll move her up there until the engagement party at least, or perhaps until the wedding.”
Dolly’s stomach dropped. She looked at her lap. “All things considered, that’s probably for the best,” she said. “We can’t count on mere respect for parental authority to affect her behavior, after all, not when there is a young man in the picture.”
“Yes,” Earnshaw said. “Well. What do you mean, ‘respect for parental authority’?”
“As Francis pointed out to me last night, you and he are both important, busy men, with responsibilities. Everyone knows that. People can’t expect you to control a rebellious daughter. Removing her from the social setting that causes the temptation is a logical solution. As the wedding grows closer, she can come into town for fittings and such things. No one would question it much. Absence from this young man will give her plenty of time to reflect on how poor a match it is.”
“Absence . . .” Earnshaw leaned back in his chair. “Yes. Exactly.” The leather sighed as he shifted his weight. “On second thought, I think we are seeing improvement, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well, let’s not be in a rush to make a dramatic change that may not be necessary. A change in routine, it could even set her back, isn’t that so?”
“It might,” Dolly said. “The conservative approach is always good.”
“Well, then.” Earnshaw reached for his newspaper.
She picked at a cuticle with her thumbnail. “Mr. Earnshaw, this may not be the best time, and this isn’t easy for me, but there’s something I must discuss. I think perhaps I should not stay in the house. During the day I—”
“What?”
“I must find another place to sleep.”
Earnshaw’s bushy brows knit. “What? We have an agreement! I’m not angry with you, Dolly. I think you did as well as could be expected last night. What’s this about?”
“I understand the attitudes of the wealthy can be different and more permissive, but I don’t have the luxury of living that way. My reputation is all I have, and I cannot feel comfortable at night in a house where one of the men practices invisibility.”
“What?” Earnshaw gaped then leaned back in his chair again. He started to laugh. It sounded like an animal roaring.
When he paused for a gulp of air, Dolly said, “It isn’t a joke, sir. It leaves me in an uncertain position.”
“It’s not invisibility, Dolly. Francis has the ability to veil himself if there is a nearby shadow, that’s all. It’s a minor skill. I’m sorry if he’s disturbed you.”
“I . . .” She stared at the edge of his desk and did not finish her sentence.
“Dolly, you are safe here. I hear everything that goes on in this house. Francis is just playing. And you’re a capable young woman. I’m sure you can handle him if it comes down to it.”
She sighed and didn’t speak.
“I’ll speak to him about it. Please don’t give it another thought, and do not give another thought to leaving.”
“Very well,” she said.
He took up the newspaper, dismissing her, and she rose and left the room silently. In the foyer, once she knew she was alone, she drew a long, deliberate breath.
* * *
NOVEMBER 10, 1929
(SEVEN DAYS BEFORE)
Dolly went down to the kitchen at about seven thirty. She was in the habit of getting herself toast and coffee and reading the Seattle Star-Invocation until Fiona joined her in the dining room for breakfast.
Mrs. Chambers was usually whisking eggs and laying out bacon, but she wasn’t in sight this morning. As Dolly pulled the loaf of bread out of the box, she heard soft voices from the back door and walked toward them.
Mrs. Chambers stood with her back to Dolly, talking to a lithe, young colored man not much taller than she was. She looked over her shoulder. “Oh! Miss Dolly!” She turned back to the man and said loudly, “And you tell him, young man, I want new turnips. That last batch was old enough to vote!”
“Yes’m.” He nodded, nearly a bow, and stepped back.
Mrs. Chambers shut the door awkwardly. “I’ll just be a minute, Miss Dolly. I have to put these in the pantry.” Her left arm was folded tight against her apron, holding something in place.
“Not to worry. I just wanted to be sure everything was all right.” Dolly went back to the counter and sliced the bread.
“Just the grocer’s boy,” Mrs. Chambers said. She seemed out of breath as she poured out a cup of coffee.
Dolly kept her attention on the bread. “You know, Mrs. Chambers, if a hardworking woman has a wee dram in her room once in a while, a nightcap, it’s no business of mine.”
“Ah? Well.” Mrs. Chambers blushed. “Shall I bring your coffee out to the dining room?”
“Yes, please. Has the paper come?”
“I put it out for you.”
Dolly was skimming the society page when Francis came into the room. “Here’s the early riser,” he said. He reached over and picked up the front section of the newspaper.
“Good morning.” She did not look up.
Fiona entered, yawning, and sat down next to Dolly. “Bacon smells good this morning. Anything interesting in the paper?”
“Skirts,” Dolly said. “A bit longer for spring, the experts think.”
Mrs. Chambers set a plate with a fried egg and three rashers of bacon in front of Fiona, who murmured thanks. Dolly poured out some coffee and handed it to her charge.
“And a wolf attack in Pike Street Market,” Francis said.
“A wolf? In the market?”
“A wolf, Fiona. She transformed in the middle of the market and attacked several people. Bit a man’s arm so badly, she broke a bone. They got a silver net on her, finally.”
Fiona’s eyes got wide, and she set down her coffee cup. “Shape-shifter?”
Without looking up, Dolly said, “It’s a strange story. More interesting for what’s not written down than what is, I think.”
“What do you mean?” Francis walked around the table behind Fiona and took a piece of bacon off her plate. He crunched it, chewing vigorously.
“I knew of wolf families in San Diego,” Dolly said. “The O’Malleys, for instance, were pillars of society. They even paid for a wing of the veterans’ hospital after the war. They did transform into actual wolves, I believe. Anyway, the families teach their youngsters to control the transformation from an early age, and they rarely travel alone. The family is everything to them.”
“Well, if Dad were here, no doubt he’d say . . .” Francis threw out his chest, puffed up his cheeks, and lowered his voice half an octave. “Nice clothes and expensive homes are no substitute for character.”
Dolly looked up at him then returned to the paper.
“Why would she do that?” Fiona’s voice trembled a bit. “Didn’t she care that there were people around? I mean, aren’t they just animals when they change?”
“Certainly the animal nature is ascendant, but if they were ‘just animals,’ how would they change back? They are usually careful.”
“Then why just change on whim, in such a crowded place?”
“But they don’t, Fiona.” Dolly folded the paper. “It’s very rare. That’s why I think this story is incomplete. What if something provoked her into changing?”
“Perhaps the storekeeper didn’t have what she wanted.” Francis smiled as he took a second piece of bacon off his sister’s plate. “You take quite an interest in wolves.”
Dolly put one hand in her lap and clenched her fist. It wasn’t worth her while to get angry at those kinds of remarks. “I like facts.”
Fiona shivered. “It’s frightening.”
“Well, it’s far from us,” Dolly said. She picked up her coffee cup.
“We’ll keep you safe, Fiona,” Francis said. He smiled at Dolly. “We’ll keep you both safe.”
“Are you eating, Mr. Francis?” Mrs. Chambers said as she came in with a rack of warm toast.
“No time, Mrs. Chambers. You two girls have a good day. And take care.” He sauntered out of the room.
* * *
After breakfast, Dolly suggested they walk in the neighborhood and perhaps Volunteer Park. The morning’s drizzle had stopped, and the clouds evaporated. Fiona had been free of the effects of shim for a few days, and she was a sharp and funny companion with a soft spot for dogs. They walked in the park for over an hour and sauntered back to the house, Fiona nodding to the maids and housekeepers they passed.
Earnshaw met them in the foyer. “Fiona, I’ve chosen a date for your engagement party: December seventh.”
Panic flitted across Fiona’s face. “That’s less than a month away.”
“Yes. Do you want it at the house or at a hotel? The Roosevelt has a lovely ballroom.”
“I don’t know, Daddy. There is so much to plan, I don’t think I . . .”
“Nonsense. You have Miss White to help you.”
“A hotel puts most of the bother on the hotel staff, rather than you and your family,” Dolly said. “It’s easier for the society page reporters to be there. People like arriving in public, showing off their fancy duds to the photographers.”
Fiona snorted. “Very true. Well, let’s consider hotels.” She gave her father a narrow-eyed look. “I don’t think the Roosevelt is necessarily the thing, Daddy. It’s a bit old hat. Stuffy.”
“Let me know what you decide.”
“Perhaps Inez can call some of the better hotels. After lunch we’ll tour them and see what’s on offer,” Dolly said. “Mr. Earnshaw, do you want Francis to come along, or would you like to join us?”
“I don’t think either will be necessary, Dolly. You’ll have the chauffer if you encounter any . . . problems.”
He turned, straight-backed, and went into his study.
Fiona’s eyes widened. She stood on tiptoe, cupped her hand around Dolly’s ear, and whispered, “You must teach me how to manage him!”
