He swigged the last of the bottle of laudanum and stood staring at the cold hearth for some minutes.
And finally, heaven-sent, came the answer. He remembered a particular line in the book, as if it had been sent to him to consider.My master has determined that what has not been given freely must be taken.
Of course he must take what was necessary to his success. He was a knight of truth and light, after all.
Chapter Seventeen
Kitty was determinedto put aside the mystery of Veritas for at least one evening. It was the night of Lady Hathaway’s themed ball and she had looked forward to it for months. Penny had told her all about it—last season had been the remarkable Tudor ball in which Lily Farnsworth had been carried off by Lord Ashworth.
This year was to be Valhalla and Kitty had every expectation of encountering the God Odin and his Valkyries.
It would be a welcome diversion. The season had been meant to be one of entertainments and interesting visits to Lackington and Allen, but the cloud of the mystery of Veritas had hung over everything. Finding herself in possession of a book bound in human skin had seemed to wake her from an over-engrossing and dangerous dream.
She must put all of this aside! It was not her responsibility to unmask Veritas. Further, it was hardly a life and death matter if Mrs. Herschel’s friends failed and the society was embarrassed in some way. And really, that ridiculous society did not even allow women through its doors! Why should she have all her thoughts taken up by this?
She found she could not help but be influenced by some of the things Lord Grayson had accused them all of. Shehadbeen a little ridiculous. If Lord Grayson was Veritas and laughed at her expense, perhaps she deserved it, if only a little bit. She could not ignore the sense of absurdity she’d felt as she’d read through the society’s papers looking for clues. She knew the subjects were all worthy, nothing discovered was unworthy, and yet there was something silly in the over-formal language used to describe a fly’s ability to land on a wall. It was the sort of style one might use to make a speech in Parliament.
It was as if Lord Grayson had shined a light on her doubts and brought them out for her to examine.
She blushed to herself as she thought of how often she’d spoken of her research into Cornish eyebright to people who likely had little interest in it. Frederick always teased her about it. Perhaps he was in some way right and she had been tedious.
It was not that she thought she ought to give up untangling the world’s mysteries, or fail to be fascinated by others’ observations, but perhaps she need not be so fixated on it. Perhaps one interest had blinded her to any other. Perhaps she might make more room for other things. She would not like to end as the faithful servant of Sir John Hill had done—obsessed with a single subject all her life.
She was young and she ought to be more carefree. She knew her mother thought it, and so far, her mother had been right about things.
Kitty had wrapped the book in layers of cloth and put it away. She did not know what else to do with it. Until she did, she would forget all about this nonsense and go to a ball.
Thinking of the ball naturally led, or so it seemed to Kitty, to thoughts of Lord Grayson. How unhappy a circumstance it was that he was not more genuine. What would it have been if he had come as a real suitor when she’d met him at Newmarket? What would it have been if all the world approved of him and were confident of his motives?
Kitty sighed. But then, she supposed, he would not be Lord Grayson at all.
“Are you ill, miss?” Martha asked, fussing with the folds of her skirt.
“Goodness, no,” Kitty said, pulling her thoughts to the present. “Why do you say so?”
“It’s all the sighing. I never heard so much sighing from one who wasn’t pained.”
Kitty smiled. She supposed shewaspained. But if she was, it had been all her own doing. Further, what had been done could be undone. She was a young woman, fortunate enough to have been born into a family who had both the love and financial means to see to her every comfort and happiness. There was a ball this evening and, for once in her life, she would not overanalyze. She would go, she would dance and laugh, and she would analyze nothing.
*
LaRue brushed oneof the few good coats Giles had not sold. Lady Hathaway’s ball was this evening and it seemed the Viking theme was less than a closely-guarded secret. He had ordered that he would wear his dark blue coat with the silver buttons. It had a military air and was as close as he could come to an homage to a marauding Viking.
As LaRue fussed, Giles had spent quite a bit of time laying out all the facts in an attempt to unravel Sir John’s motives. None of his speculations added up to much.
LaRue was not generally helpful, but this time he might have been. When Giles had finished listing everything he now knew, La Rue had said, “Mon Dieu, he is insensé. So many mad Englishman. It is in the water, no?”
Despite the insult of hinting that the English were all prone to madness, LaRue might have made a point. If something did not seem to make sense, perhaps the cause was that there was simply no sense in it.
Sir John was exceedingly odd, there was something not quite right about him. He might very well be unhinged in some fashion. Therewerepeople that might pass themselves off as relatively sane when they were not. Hadn’t he had an old great uncle who believed he could talk to trees? The fellow had got on well enough as he was convinced that the trees had made him promise not to tell anybody outside of a blood relation, and so he hadn’t. If there was something wrong in Sir John’s head, that would explain why there seemed to be no motive, no gain, in creating Veritas.
Now, his book was gone and Giles had revealed to Sir John that he knew him to be Veritas. What if Sir John were to become desperate? What might he do then?
But then, maybe the madman did have a gain in mind. It occurred to him that Sir John’s real interest in Miss Dell must be her dowry. His house was empty, he clearly did not have the funds to furnish it. Wishing to make an advantageous marriage was not madness though, and it certainly would not have necessitated creating Veritas.
“My God,” he said.
LaRue looked at him critically. “Your cloth is perfect, what more can you want from poor LaRue?”
