Chapters V & VI

V

Three hours on the road were enough to see us reach Talia’s neighbors at the Royce estate, where Richmond drew our carriage into the carriage house.

I wondered momentarily at my traveling clothes, which had become quite soiled with our encounter with the highwaymen. But, almost immediately as the thought crossed my mind, a few servants of the house addressed it directly, presenting a wide selection of clothing befitting such a social call.

“T’was a nasty business with those on the road, we heard,” one servant simpered. I hadn’t recalled Talia telling anyone save the local doctor. News traveled fast on this island.

Talia dressed conservatively, as ever, and I pulled on a riding dress that better suited my figure—well, relatively speaking. I noted dresses cut for both feminine and masculine figures available, and wondered at that for half a moment before joining my ‘wife’ in the walk up to the estate house.

“Looks like our little escapade is the talk of the town,” I said in as casual a tone as I could manage.

“Think little of it.” Talia’s limp seemed less pronounced, though she leaned on me slightly with every step.

I lightly tousled my hair, making it seem wind-swept, as I turned my eye to the manor hosue itself. Royce manor looked newly built, in a style I wasn’t familiar with. I tried not to gawk at the front door, but it was almost entirely fashioned of glass. How did it not shatter upon opening? In my experience, panes of that scale were mainly saved for holy sanctuaries and the like. Even the rich had contented themselves with simple, small, fragile windowpanes.

A servant showed us in, and the door did not shatter. Low, polite voices came in from the sitting room. With the jostling of coats and hats taken by servants, I found myself half a step behind Talia.

“The Duke and Lady of the House of Fallmire,” came the servant’s introduction as we entered the sitting room.

A light voice from within gave welcoming noises as we entered. It belonged to a slim man in his own riding skirts—and by the dead god, his dress was expertly tailored, fitting his form better than any dress had mine! Fashion had also taken a turn for the better in my century away. He rose to kiss my hand.

“I am Walter, and you look absolutely radiant,” he said, then added sotto voce, “We are lucky you arrived when you did—my husband Raleigh was about to bore us with another story of the war.”

“Bore?” came a jocular laugh from the seat beside Walter’s. I saw it belonged to a large, broad shouldered and broad bellied man. “Oho, now I know what you really think of me.”

“Love you,” Walter smirked as he took his seat again.

Between the two men sat a girl of hardly more than eleven years. She stood and offered a curtsy to Talia and myself, introducing herself as Annalynn.

Talia looked entirely out of her depth. I took the girl’s hand and spoke. “We apologize for arriving late. I am Lucia, and this is my wife, the Duke of Fallmire. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of your company.”

I took my seat beside Talia, facing the Royce family. The table between us had four full glasses of wine awaiting the adults.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Walter, “but we know the Duke from... oh, was it the lovely ball you attended last week in Cavaline? Yes, that was it. The Duke here spoke so warmly of you, we knew we just had to see you the moment you arrived. Welcome to Bainbury, the Royce estate.”

“It’s lovely,” I said, with full sincerity.

“Oh, it is a lovely place here, borne of very old money, but my dear old husband just doesn’t know what to do with it.” Walter’s voice was musical.

“Now I know why I don’t invite guests here more often,” Raleigh rumbled. “I’d do it even less if this uncalled-for abuse continues unabated.”

“Oh, believe you me, he loves it,” Walter winked at Talia, then shared an amorous look with his husband, interrupted only with a mew from the door as the Royce’s cat joined the company.

“Empress!” cooed Annalynn, breaking her seen but not heard vigil. She stood to scoop up the feline, much to the latter’s chagrin, before taking her seat again. Empress, for her part, leapt from Annalynn’s arms the moment the girl relaxed her hold.

“How did you two meet?” I asked, one eye on the cat as it prowled among the furniture.

“Oh, I love to tell the story!”

Raleigh snorted. “That’s because you love exaggerating it to the point of absurdity, my rosethorn. No, I shall relate the tale.”

“Oh, but I must do the part with—”

“Ah, ah,” Raleigh raised a stubby finger. “You told the story last, with the Houghtons. It is my turn, my right, by all the dead god’s laws.”

“He does tell it better,” Annalynn said.

“Undone by my own daughter.” Walter turned away in anguish for the space of ten seconds before recovering completely as his husband began the tale. Annalynn, for her part, gifted her father rapt attention.

“Well, as you may have guessed, I’m an old veteran of the Second War of the Dauphin—terrible business that, but I suppose it couldn’t be helped when he escaped Camora, you know.”

Talia stiffened a fraction at that, but I took her hand and she relaxed. Had she been involved in the war as well?

“Well, the convoy I was a part of was returning to Cavaline, and the upper brass were saying something about a military triumph—oh, right, a parade. I forget you lot aren’t so steeped in military tradition.”

“Rude!” Walter said.

“It’s no complaint, I just know what we military cads are like when we get going about battles and encampments and enfilades... anyway. ‘Triumphs’ are what they used to call them back in the Old World before the Calamity, the old emperors on their war elephants and whatnot, and there’s nothing old generals like more than playing the part of Arlian Emperor—”

“Get to the good part,” whined Annalynn.

Raleigh kissed his daughter right on the crown of her head, which served to quiet her for the moment.

“Anyways, my leg was acting up, you see—never been the same since the battle of Aria when I took a ball to the knee. But I was acting commander of my platoon, you understand? I couldn’t very well beg leave and force them to march on without me! It was a right conundrum; I tell you what. But that was when a particular nurse from the convoy approached me—”

“Mmm,” Walter hummed. “He was an absolute wreck,” he added.

“Well, it was years ago, and I was not a complete wreck at that time. In fact, my knee has nearly healed by now—though you might catch me limp around if you stay for lunch, Sir Fallmire,” he said, nodding to Talia. “Ah! Or do you prefer to use your rank—”

“Please,” she said. “Just Talia, between old military hands,” and she did a passable chuckle. Gods, this woman was useless on this conversational battlefield. I could believe she had been raised from the common people; she was entirely out of her depth in even these friendly waters, military bearing or no.

“She doesn’t like to think of her time in the service,” I said smoothly, and I took my ‘wife’s’ arm again. “Though, if you must know, she’s really a hopeless romantic at heart. My captain,” and I sighed dramatically as I laid my head down on Talia’s shoulder.

Talia opened her mouth, closed it, then blinked a few times.

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” said Walter. “But, oh goodness, this story must be stirring bad memories for you! I am deeply ashamed and apologize—”

I jabbed Talia subtly; well, subtle enough. Empress also chose that moment to leap onto Talia’s lap.

“Mm! I mean, no, please go on,” Talia managed. “It’s cute, and I, ehh…” another jab from me, “am glad something good came out of that war.”

A satisfactolly response, I supposed. Wait, or was it satisfac-tony? Perhaps -tory? Ugh. This language. It hurt my brain merely trying to think in it.

“Well,” said Walter, taking the stage again. “I knew of this particular salve that would numb up a finger, a thumb, or even a whole limb—it’s pretty dangerous if you don’t know how to use it, but I couldn’t think of anything else. And of course, he had nothing to fear from me.” Walter waggled his eyes. “We numbed the leg right up, put it in a brace, and he practiced walking without a crutch. He walked that whole parade, my soldier.”

“Hmph. The salve was wearing off near the end,” said Raleigh, stroking his mustaches.

Walter laughed, a sound like the clearest bell. “Isn’t he the cutest?”

“How long have you been married?” I asked. I admit, I envied them. Just a little.

“Oh, our first anniversary is this summer,” said Walter. “We’d prefer to remain paramours, but our dear Annalynn lost her home last year, so that was the cue for Raleigh to drop to one knee, as it were!”

“Lover-ly! Are you planning anything special for the anniversary?” I said.

(“Yes, lovely,” Talia corrected absentmindedly. I jabbed her again).

“Oh, just a little soirée, a small thing—”

“You’ll be receiving an invitation,” said Raleigh.

“Oh, but that goes without saying, my dear! Of course they’ll be invited!”

“We’d be honored,” Talia said after another nudge from myself.

I broke in, “And of course, you’d be invited to our own get-together to open the spring season. Nothing too large, of course—my dearest prefers things stay more intimate—but we’ll be sure to send you an invitation.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Walter, as Raleigh rumbled, “That’s very kind of you.”

Talia visibly paled. Well, we had to throw some sort of party. Every House did. Was my Duke unaware? By the dead god.

Walter cast his eyes around as the conversation lulled. Then, he dramatically ‘noticed’ the pianoforte, which loomed ominously on the other side of the sitting room. “Oh, do either of you play?”

Talia and myself resorted to noncommittal sounds. Empress mewed again.

“Ah, but I do, and nearly as finely as my dear Annalynn.” Walter jumped up with a flourish. “I love playing a good waltz!”

And I must report that Walter could technically play—though the pianoforte wasn’t properly tuned. To tell the truth, it would not have helped matters much if it was.

VI

The Royces invited us to lunch as well, and as the house of Fallmire was only a few hours by carriage up the road, Talia had little reason to refuse—especially as they offered to introduce us to other friends coming up from Cavaline. I was grateful for the opportunity the Royces afforded me to change into more appropriate dining attire. Once duly refreshed, my décolletage in particular was stunning. If I do say so myself.

That was a word I’d learned from an axe-thrower in Revain, about... wait, had it really been four contracts ago? Those were happy times; for a moment, they made me forget the Calamity.

Walter departed to bring in the two other guests for the luncheon, and I had a moment alone with my ‘wife’. Which Talia promptly took advantage of, dragging me away for a private word.

Once privately sequestered, Talia turned to me with a death glare, with a matching, barely controlled voice. “You are infuriating.”

“I try,” I said, meeting the glare with my own, though I could not hope to match her intensity. “What did I do this time, my sweet?”

“What did you—?” Talia spluttered. “Your mind is the most rapid—but whatever possessed you to—you committed us to hosting a party at the beginning of the season?! The equinox is in three weeks!”

“Intimate,” I said. I knew what that word meant. “Just an intimate party. But even so, it would put us on the social map, which we desperately—”

“What sort of facilities and staff do you believe we have at our disposal? I’ve barely moved myself into the estate grounds a month past!”

“You...” I stumbled. “Wait. Richmond is your only servant? No. Surely you have a maid staff? Tailor? Groundskeeper? Cook?” At the flat stare I received from Talia in response, I shook her head. “It sounds like I’ll be performing another set of wifely duties this week.”

“Three! Weeks!” And with that, Talia stalked away, her cane a staccato upon the wooden floor.

I leaned against a bookshelf. Talia—my erstwhile Duke—did have a point. The list of things to prepare for any kind of soirée or luncheon started to mount in my mind. To begin, she’d need to send out invitations tout de suite. I certainly hadn’t made life easy for the House and its soon-to-be-hired staff.

Though I stood by my choices, rash as they felt now. Perhaps we should invite the Royces only? That would make things slightly more manageable.

On the plus side, I’d doubtless need to commission an appropriate wardrobe for the occasion. I smiled at the thought.

---

Annalynn led Talia and myself out onto the Royce’s grounds for the luncheon. In the distance, a much more official looking carriage trundled up the drive to the carriage house. I wondered, briefly, what other guests would be dining with us.

I found out soon enough as I saw Walter lead two men up the walk towards the outdoor picnic area. These two were dressed in inquisitor grays, which made me shiver. There were few men in this world a demon feared more than inquisitors.

I remembered my summoning was unlicensed. These men would stop at little to exorcise me, if they knew.

Blossoming within the woman beside her was a flare of anger, which settled down into the typical deep-seated hatred. I saw Talia’s eyes fixed themselves on the shorter of the two inquisitors.

“What is it, my dear?” I asked.

“Lindell. Henry Lindell,” Talia murmured softly, the name rumbling off her tongue like thunder. I looked back at the man she was staring at. Lindell’s plain face was utterly forgettable. “The man, the absolute snake who masterminded my father’s death.”