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He then whispered, “You will pay.”
A chill slithered down my spine.
“Choose. Bellebryn? Or Newton.” He lifted the crystal thing an inch. “Or do you need more incentive to make your choice?”
“Newton,” Dad-not-Dad spat.
A gasp was heard at the door.
A woman in a black dress with a white apron and a little white cap with a black ribbon threaded through it was at the door holding a wet cloth on a silver tray and staring in dismay at Loren and Edgar.
“Your compress, Satrine,” Ansley said quietly, moving to the maid. He took the cloth, murmured, “Thank you, dear,” and she rushed away.
He brought it to me.
“Your eye, my lady,” he instructed. “And then, as charming as that dress is, I believe you’ll need to return to your rooms and change into a traveling costume. It seems in short order, we’re away.”
I took the cloth and put it to my eye.
Wow, that felt good.
Okay, maybe one down?
Mom and Maxine safe.
And one to go.
Getting home.
I let out a huge breath.
And for the first time in three weeks…
I hoped.
Chapter Eight
Reunion
Maxine
“Milady, awaken. We’re here.”
I started awake and looked around the carriage.
It appeared it was mid-morning. There were sunny skies, but (don’t ask me, it was a thing with this world), I felt the freshness to the day.
And outside the carriage windows, I saw across the wide sidewalk, the massive, four-story graystone (instead of brownstone) where I started this nightmare.
We were in Newton.
Allow me to catch you up on the things I’d learned.
First, there was a reason Idina was reserved (and I should have figured it out myself).
Dad had bullied her, threatened her and demanded she report everything about me to him in the minutest detail.
She was terrified of him, and she not only liked me, she’d been a lady’s maid for a while (in fact, her last “lady” had passed away, and her grief was exacerbating her reserve), thus she explained, “As you know, the relationship is sacrosanct. You don’t inform on your lady. Ever. I didn’t want to do that to you, but I didn’t know how to deny him.”
So that explained that.
Next, when you only stop to attend the call of nature, have a quick cup of tea and a sandwich while the horses on your carriage were being switched out before you were on your way again, a three-day journey turned into a day-and-a-half one.
Onward from that, I’d ridden in the more opulent carriage in which I went to Pinkwick House, doing this with Idina. Ansley and Dad-not-Dad rode in the carriage behind, with two riders on horses flanking them, probably as extra manpower so Edgar wouldn’t think to try anything.
This meant I couldn’t pump Edgar, or Ansley for that matter, for information so I could continue to ride this wave that seemed to be breaking my way.
However, Idina wandered off, as it was clear servants didn’t hang with their “betters” when other “betters” were around (though, once she’d shared what had gone down with her and Dad-not-Dad, we’d had some lovely conversations in the carriage, in between jostled bouts of trying to sleep, that was).
So, while I sipped tea and nibbled sandwiches, I spoke with Ansley.
Fortunately, he was figuring everything out (translation: fitting what he was learning to what he knew, even if most of it wasn’t true, and I didn’t enlighten him, which sucked, and felt like lying, because it was, and that wasn’t fun due to the fact he was a super cool guy).
This being, after Maxine had been injured, for whatever dastardly ends Edgar had (Ansley hadn’t figured that out yet), Mom and I had been banished to Fleuridia and Edgar had faked Mom’s death.
Incidentally, she’d killed herself in her favorite gazebo by sitting in it and setting it afire. Now, either the woman was in such pain she wanted to make absolutely sure that pain ended (though, she did it in what had to be an excruciatingly painful way), or she didn’t actually kill herself.
Truth be told, Edgar was such a dick, I had my suspicions that she didn’t.
In fact, I was putting things together too, and I had the feeling the asshole killed her.
Ansley knew she didn’t, because we were racing to rescue her.
However, he now surmised her charred body was not hers, and instead a cadaver, or some poor “street urchin” (his words) that Edgar used in place of his wife. Taking this further (to myself, in reality, my this-world mom was dead, and I didn’t like to think of that), since they didn’t have DNA or other such things they could test, it was easy for him to get away with something like that.
Considering I was banished in Fleuridia with my mother through all this, while Ansley ruminated on these things, I could play dumb.
Sadly, we didn’t often stop to change horses, and when we were stopped, we weren’t for long, so finding out my mom of this world burned to death in her favorite gazebo was unwanted, but informative news.
