The wave of cool water broke against my face again and again, each time failing to wash away the memory of what had happened in that room. My Uncle's cruel threat announced itself to my mind yet again. My eyes burned with fresh tears. I had to stop weeping, I must collect myself or Nicholas would know and he must not know! My brother's life and mine were already at risk - I dared not add his as well. But then every time I attempted to leave the washroom my feelings betrayed me and I was relegated, once more, to the wash basin. But what could I do? I could contact Lord Norbert - but what would I tell him? Letters in gibberish, a few strange words scrawled on a page - I could scarce remember them! And if I were discovered - and there was yet another life at stake for my recklessness. The world seemed a fog. Was this truly real? Could this possibly be reality? It seemed to have become distorted, tainted by some unknown poison. It had bent in on itself and blackened until I could no longer recognize it. To acknowledge what it had become seemed, to me, to be accepting insanity. Was I still an occupant of the real world or was this a fiction created by an excited mind? Perhaps I was in bed still and this a fever dream? I stared at my reflection in the mirror; the glowing red eyes, pallid complexion, and disheveled hair of a banshee stared back. My eyes seemed to have finally cried themselves out of tears - at least, I hoped they had. Dividing my mane of sand brown hair down the center as best I could I braided the remainder twisting it into a low chignon resting just at the nape of my neck - the process was not long nor laborious but it required just enough of my focus that I was able to distract myself from the trouble at hand. A liberal dash of powder turned the redness into a pale pink. Now if only my mind could be quite so collected as my features! My peace still permanently dashed on the floor of the Study, I wafted down the hallway to where Nicholas sat, wholly unperturbed by the world. At the sound of my approaching step he looked up, "My princess!" his open smile faltered into a look of concern. "What's wrong, my darling?" And that was it. I had failed even this simple task and now the banished tears were once again threatening to break. How could I think I could hide my state from him who seemed to know me so well?
"I'm sorry, I d-did not mean to trouble you. It is a family matter."
"Did your Uncle have news of your brother? Has he taken a bad turn?"
"Yes, that might be the best way to say it. He has taken a bad turn. I was unaware how terrible of a turn it was until Uncle Richard informed me, after you left." my voice choked.
"Do they think he will recover?"
"I don't know." I shook my head, tears escaping their boundaries, blinding me. I felt the firmness of his arms around me, the warmth of his embrace, though I could not see him. I buried my face in his shoulder, "I just don't know."
The coming days in the house were the darkest of my life. It no longer felt a home to me but a place alien and sinister - waiting to devour me with its darkness. Daily I haunted the halls as though a ghost, unable to focus my mind on anything but what was incomprehensible to me. My Uncle, once a source of comfort to me - now one of terror. My conscious warred within me: I could not keep silent when a man had been killed; but then, by breaking my silence, the very same fate might befall my brother. I did not doubt my Uncle's sincerity in that threat though how he could even think to do such a thing was beyond my comprehension. I desperately wanted to write to Millie, to somehow convey the depth of my distress, but I had come to suspect that since the incident in the Study my mail was no longer reaching its intended destinations. Any freedom I might have once enjoyed to come and go as I pleased had been effectively eliminated. Now, at every turn I felt a presence at my heel - always either Uncle Richard, Aunt Mabel, or Dale lurked nearby; one eye always trained on my movements. Even when I thought myself unsupervised I would then catch the suspicious eye of a maid in the mirror or from around the corner. What had my Uncle told them? Only Sarah seemed to be unaffected. Perhaps this was because they did not feel she was bright enough to be surreptitious. Or she may have been given the knowledge but had chosen not to believe it; for she was as guileless and pleasant as ever.
"Come now, Miss, you don't wish to spend the whole of this glorious day locked up in your room?" Sarah entreated bustling about the lunch tray she had brought. I turned, now laying upon my side in the bed I hadn't left for more than a few moments in two days, to face her,
"I should say I do, and what business is it of yours anyhow?"
"I'm sorry Miss, I meant no offense. Only it is a rather pleasant day and I thought you might enjoy a walk in the garden. If you are feeling well enough, that is." the expression of wounded shame on her face was enough to coax me from my feathery exile.
"If you insist." I sighed, throwing off the covers.
I walked down the hall toward the Garden. Having been resigned to my bed so long it seemed no one anticipated I would be about and thus I was spared the prying eyes of the staff, all now well about their own business of the day. With any luck my presence would not be marked at all - though there is no crime in aiding luck in its endeavors, I hurried to the garden door and slipped out. The day was quite as fine an August day as one might hope for, the air, cooled by an early morning rain, danced with zephyrs portending that the early morning burst might be followed by another by evening - but for the moment the sun declared its dominion over creation. I strolled along the cobblestone with little conscious thought to my direction, only glad for my temporary reprieve. I had not been walking long when I realized the direction my unconscious had taken me, for there, not far off, stood the tall cascade of leaves that marked the old willow tree. Upon recognition of the spot I turned on my heel, causing that I should nearly crash into Lord Norbert.
"How long have you been following me?" I demanded, straightening my dress.
"Must you always fidget so? Only a few minutes - I noticed you from across the garden."
"Am I to assume the Underhills are visiting, then, and you are in tow?" my brusque manner appeared to have caught him off guard.
"That would be an accurate portrayal of the situation, yes." He glanced from side to side, and, satisfied of our solitude, waved me closer. "Why are you still here? I told you to go home." he hissed in a conspiratorial whisper.
"You did tell me, but they would not have me for any reason other than that I required burying lest my intended's passions might cool in my absence. Even to save my own life they would not have me return." This was, sadly, entirely true though it pained me greatly to acknowledge it - even had I attempted to go home to N-shire I should have found myself restored to the mercies of my Uncle and Aunt by the very next train regardless of ailment. The marriage was of chief import to my parents above all else. This I had known from the first moment I stepped aboard the train and it had been my fondest wish to spite them for it by returning with no prospects whatsoever. Lord Norbert shook his head, disgust etched into his features.
"I am sorry to hear that. Have you discovered anything since we last spoke." he inquired, dark eyes probing my own. Discomfited, I shifted my gaze to just above his right shoulder.
"No, I'm sorry, but I have found out nothing at all."
"I suspect you are not telling me the whole truth."
"I am telling you all I know."
"No you are not." He grasped me by my arms, "What has happened?"
"Nothing has happened!" I shook off his grip defiantly. "I have been otherwise engaged - I am to be married soon, or have you not heard?"
"So that is it, is it? You dare not risk your engagement?" I stared at the ash tree beyond his shoulder. "No, there's something else. Look at me when I speak to you Miss Moore." he commanded.
"There is nothing else!" I proclaimed staring him directly in the eye. I felt something small and wet fall upon my nose, about me the patter of rain disturbing the brush began to gain strength. "Now if you will please excuse me, it is starting to rain." I turned on my heel intent to march away when I felt my arm snag back, caught by Lord Norbert's own.
"I do not know what has happened, but I intend to find out. Your silence will not protect you and your loved ones long, Miss Moore." I shuddered, but did not turn to look at him, though I could somehow readily envision his face - those oft haughty eyes now imploring for information that might reveal Lord Bond's killer. He was desperate - however, his friend was dead and my brother was still very much alive.
"If you would kindly unhand me, sir." I ordered.
"I am sorry if I have offended you." his voice had returned to that of a proper gentleman in address to a lady. "Good day to you."
"Good day, sir." I heard his heavy steps take the opposite direction as my own, then they ceased, the long sound of gravel crushed underfoot told me he had turned.
"Take care, Philomena, and think about what I have said." He may have spoken more but I was unaware of it, already having mounted the stair I tore open the door and shut myself inside.
I trotted quickly down the hall heedless that my presence might be noted. "Oh, Philomena!" the high pitched voice of my Aunt arrested me, halting my escape at the wide open door of the Library. "I did not know you were up. Come, come, please join us for tea." she summoned. I approached the doorway, still unable to force myself to cross its threshold. "Well, my dear, come in, you do not want to be rude to our guests." she indicated to Quentin and Dinah the former standing on my appearance in the portal, the latter favored me with a wan smile,
"Oh yes, do join us Miss Moore - it has been ages since we last spoke." Dinah entreated so genuinely I could almost have believed our last conversation had not ended on such infelicitous terms. Quentin nodded in agreement. If only they knew who glared down on them from the shelf they would not stay one more moment in that horrible room.
"I'm sorry, I wish I could." I feigned a cough. "But I was only getting some air. I fear I am still ill and I do not wish to pass on my malady to you. I do hope you understand." I managed a run of sneezes of such authenticity it might earn me a place in the royal Shakespeare Company. "I beg your pardon."
"There is no pardon to beg, Miss Moore." Quentin smiled amicably. "Please rest, and when you recover, you are welcome to call on Miss Underhill and I at the parsonage for tea."
"Yes," Aunt Mabel affirmed. "And please do avoid going out again until you are well - the dampness in the air has clearly worsened your lungs. Do not forget we will be hosting the Martin's for Sunday dinner; it would be a shame if you could not attend."
"Yes, Aunt Mabel." I cracked my voice on the last syllable. Years of avoiding social events had molded me into a singular paragon of false symptoms.
"I'll have Sarah bring you some honey-lemon tea."
"Thank you, Aunt Mabel." I replied with feigned gratitude whilst stifling another cough. With a nod of her head I turned to leave, once again being instantly accosted by the sight of Lord Norbert. He simpered in that horrid way I had forgotten - the transformation from the man in the garden to the pathetic worm before me was nothing short of miraculous - part of me questioned whether they were two in the same at all,
"Ah, Miss Moore - will you be joining us for tea?"
"No, I should say she will not! She is far too ill and must go directly to bed. Now, off with you my dear."
"Thank you, Aunt Mabel." I croaked.
"Yes, do feel better soon." Lord Norbert added in his unsteady voice; no longer in sight of my Aunt I shot him a fiery glare to which he meekly returned a servile smile. How I hated that man!
The day of the dinner arrived and I had still not quit my bedchamber. It seemed lethargy had become my dearest companion - sleep my truest love; for should my dreams bode ill, they were, at least, dreams - cobwebs to be swept aside in waking. But what new nightmare waited for me in the realm of the waking world? I was as a bird trapped in a cage: having come to the realization any attempts at escape would prove unfruitful, I had surrendered myself to pining for past days making only the scantest effort of to preserve my life by picking at my meals though even the finest food lacked any appeal. As Sarah dressed me my condition became apparent.
"Oh dear! You seem to have lost a good deal of weight. Look at these sleeves!" she pulled my arm into view. I could clearly see what distressed her: the sleeves, already narrow, hung loosely from my wrist. Lifting both arms I observed they looked more like the wings of a bat than a dress. The trunk was no better. I had never been shapely but now it seemed there was nothing left to attempt at emphasizing. The fabric hung about like a great silky tube that had been cinched somewhat in the center. "Perhaps if we tie it..." Sarah wrapped a thick piece of ribbon around the waist but it only made the situation appear all the worse. We both stared at the unfortunate figure in the mirror. "No, this won't do at all." Sarah frowned.
"I suppose there's nothing for it." I agreed. Sarah pulled up on fold cascading from my arm and scrunched her mouth to the side as if in thought. Her visage brightened and she dropped the sleeve,
"One moment Miss." she bustled out of the room only to return a few minutes later, a dress draped over her arms. "I know it's a little out of fashion," she said, holding the brown trimmed tan dress up for display. "It was your Aunt Mabel's when she first came out. It has an accompanying jacket." she added helpfully.
"My word, was Aunt Mabel ever so thin?" I exclaimed, examining the small waist.
"I apologize we don't have the hoops for it," she prattled, holding the item against me for comparison. "But that may be a blessing with consideration to your height." she continued pulling the skirt straight until it brushed my ankle. "At least the extra fabric will give you something of a waist." she was already undoing the buttons on my back.
"Do you think any of the gentlemen will notice?" as much as I cared little for fashion I truly did not wish to look a fool.
"Oh no Miss, men have no regard for women's fashion - for all they will recognize it you might as well be wearing the newest trend. I swear to you, a woman could wear the same gown to every ball and no man would even note it. Only women care for these things and I doubt your Aunt would object."
"Then I will entrust myself into your capable hands." I surrendered. For the next half hour Sarah prattled on about all manner of things from the virtues of this particular dress style to its excellent fit and on and on; clearly the young woman was in her element. Finally, she released me to the mirror - she was clearly a witch how she did such things. The dress was a near perfect fit but for the jacket sleeves that came up short on my wrist. She had been correct in the extra fabric covering my height and I was quite pleased with the range of motion it allowed me even with the petticoats. For a moment there with Sarah merrily fussing about this and that I actually felt somewhat myself again, but it was only a fleeting moment.
"Sarah, I don't think I can go down there - I don't feel at all well." I muttered, falling back to sit upon the bed. Sarah rushed forward placing her hands on my face,
"Well, Miss, you don't seem to have a fever."
"Yes, but all the same..." I lay down, curling the blankets about me.
"Miss! You'll rumple your dress!"
"No one will see it anyhow." I murmured into the pillow.
"Now come on Miss, you don't want to miss seeing your fiance twice in one week - he looked so sad on Wednesday." She pouted. I mumbled something unintelligible. "Come on Miss!" She cried grabbing my hands and tugging as one might an obstinate sibling, "Staying in bed all the time is not good for you."
"Oh fine!" I finally relented, allowing to pull me out of bed. "I would never hear the end of it if mother found out I had missed two meetings in a week, anyhow."
"How fine you look, my dear Philomena." my Uncle crowed as I entered the dining room, underneath my skirt my legs trembled terribly and I was relieved when Darby pulled out a chair for me to sit in, even though it were next to him and my Aunt.
"Thank you Darby." I demurred.
"I do apologize, father was unable to join us this evening, he has taken ill with a cold." Darby said.
"But we are glad you are feeling well enough to join us," Nicholas added. "I should hate to have counted this another wasted trip." Despite all that had transpired all the horror I had known, I found I still was able to blush.
"So, Nicholas, what do you think of our man, Gladstone? Quite a stirring debut for the Liberal party." Uncle Richard laughed.
"I am loathe to agree with you but on this point we are in accord - though I suspect for differing reasons."
"The man is an imbecile. If only they had respected the Queen's first choice we would not be staring down the barrel of his incompetence."
"Darling, Mr. Martin, please! Let us not discuss politics at the dining table!" Aunt Mabel cried scandalized. "I do apologize for my husband's rude behavior Mrs. Martin."
"Oh it is no matter." the old matriarch replied. "If this is their bend, let them speak as they wish - we shall discuss other matters."
"Then it is settled, my dear Mabel, that we may proceed. Even the good Rev. Underhill would concur with us on this matter." Uncle Richard teased. Aunt Mabel sighed in defeat.
"Further Irish unrest is yet another trouble we do not need, and that is neglecting his disastrous turn in the Afghan war and already I am hearing rumbles from South Africa."
"Another war before we have finished the first! Liberalism is a fine thing to play at during times of peace and prosperity, but in times of unrest and war it is a conservative voice who will win the day. Makes a man long for the days of Disraeli."
"I cannot wholly disagree with that." The conversation continued on but I had no appetite for it today, nor for my own meal which I pushed about the plate aimlessly. If Nicholas knew, if he truly knew my Uncle's nature he should never agree to break bread with him again. I wished more than anything to tell him, to gain an ally in this horrible place - but what if I were to tell him and he did not believe me? Or, worse still, he thought it a grand joke and told my Uncle what thing he had heard? I looked over to my near companion's plate. Darby was silently consuming the pheasant, chewing each bite thoroughly as though ensuring he did not choke on the soft flesh. To my other side Mrs. Martin was discussing the minutia of maintaining a proper English household with my Aunt.
"Has the work on the Parlor been completed?"
"No, though we anticipate it should be finished in a fortnight. As they were replacing the walls, Richard decided they might as well replace the floors and tile the ceiling which was far too plain, in my opinion."
"Oh yes, a bare Parlor ceiling is quite the shame in a modern house."
"I though the very same. And, of course we will have new mouldings as well."
"Certainly! Will you be using the same furnishings?"
"No, and I shall be glad to be rid of the old Eastlake designs for they lacked the character of their predecessors."
"I always marveled at what possessed you to buy those horrid things."
"It must have been Cupid for they were Richard's favorite. I suppose he grew weary of them as well for it was he who entreated that I be solely responsible for the refurnishing of the room. The old ones were a fine match for the wall coverings, I suppose, but I am eager to decorate now in the style of my choice."
"Will you return to the Rococo?"
"No, I don't believe so. As we removed that set to the Library, I should rather not have the rooms match in style - it is a bit too redundant."
"What style will you be using then?"
"I was quite fond of the new Art Furniture designs..." and on the pair continued, blathering on about topics of no import whatsoever. Slowly I took a bite of pheasant but it held no pleasure for me, my taste depressed only the texture gave interest to my palate (and it provided little of that). After some time Uncle Richard dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then threw the squared cloth onto his plate,
"Well that was a magnificent meal! What do you gentlemen say to having a smoke?"
"That seems a fine idea." Nicholas concurred. "Darby?"
"Thank you, but I believe I will take a turn about the garden. I would enjoy the fresh air."
"Feeling a bit under the weather? You've scare touched your meal." Nicholas probed, concern evident in his voice.
"Somewhat, but I believe it will pass." Darby answered, his smile strained.
"Well feel free to join us after your constitutional." Uncle Richard extended.
"Ladies, let us retreat to the Library for a game of three's." Aunt Mabel declared.
"That sounds wonderful, I do so love a game of three's." Mrs. Martin answered. No. I could not fathom going into the Library - no I could not do so!
"Aunt Mabel, perhaps a walk in the garden would be an idea more well suited for such a lovely day?" I suggested.
"Nonsense dear, your lungs are still far too weak - think if it were to rain! Now do come along, I'll have Marcy stoke the fire for you." A fire. As though it were not already a fine picture of Hell.
I sat in the Library attempting to avoid the accusing glare from the shelf though I could feel it boring into me, begging its pain be acknowledged. I stared at my cards without registering their meanings. Mrs. Martin was laying down another play - even though they were before me I could not see them for what they were. I picked up a card and threw it down.
"Philomena! That six is wild this round! Oh! I do wish you would pay closer attention!" my Aunt admonished. Picking up the card she thrust it into my hand, "Now do try again properly."
"Oh, I'm sorry." I mumbled, throwing a ten on the discard pile. The point was irrelevant anyhow for Mrs. Martin went out at the end of the round.
"Philomena! You had a set of fours with the wild card in your hand!" Aunt Mabel seemed quite put out by my lackluster playing.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Mabel, it must have concealed itself behind another card." Exasperated, she declared:
"Really dear, I don't know what is wrong with you today." the tirade continued but I did not comprehend a word of it. It felt as though the words existed in a distant fog which enveloped me. "And furthermore-"
"Excuse me, Aunt Mabel." I interrupted. "I need to use the washroom." I quit the room careful not to look to the shelf where the skull sat. I was free! At least for the moment.
"Oh, Darby! Pardon me." I said, sidestepping the young man who stood before me.
"It is I who must beg your pardon, Miss Moore." he replied, his voice languid.
"No, it was my fault, I was not watching where I was going." I attempted a laugh.
"Miss Moore, I'm sorry I have done you a great wrong. But I do intend to rectify it." I had not looked at him properly, but now, my attention fixed I saw the sorrowful eyes, the darkened circles - there was no dancing in his features today, no mirth was reflected in those eyes.
"How can you mean?" I asked, suspicious.
"I have known things which I held from you of which it was your right to know. I wish I had told you outright but I truly had hoped it was a passing fancy - I know now I was wrong and I cannot leave you ignorant to it."
"I'm sorry, but I do not understand what you are saying."
"If you would please come with me..." his voice trailed off. What could he be about? I felt a chill of dread travel down my spine - I turned to go back to the Library but he grasped my hand. His grip was so very light, like a small child's. "Please." he repeated. I peered into those grey eyes, they held such a troubled heart behind them...
"Show me." my hollow voice answered. Darby led me, my hand still held gently in his, to the Smoking room. The bifold door was open only an inch - Darby indicated toward the opening. I approached close enough to hear the voices of the two men within:
"It's a messy business." Uncle Richard grumbled. "A messy business indeed."
"Mr. Hurst, I do believe the situation is not nearly so dire as our source makes it out to be. Though I should have anticipated Robert's might prove troublesome." Nicholas answered. He sat in a brown leather armchair across a table from my Uncle who stood, a letter waving in hand.
"No one could have known he would move so quickly with a force of ten thousand!"
"He has always been of the type to strive for another man's glory. And what news of Phayre, anyhow?"
"Slow go of it, might as well be marching through a desert of molasses as sand - the bandits have proven as effective as you thought in further hindering their efforts."
"At least there is some good news in that. When did Robert's leave Kabul?"
"The 8th. Intelligence indicates he was marching toward the Logar Valley." Nicholas leaned over to look at something on the table, as he adjusted it I saw it was a map. "Not by Maidan, then. One would think he would take the shorter path, but I can guess his intention to avoid trouble from Kabul. Assuming then, that he is still moving at the same speed..." Nicholas traced a line on the map with his finger. "He should be entering the Zamburak Kotel by now. Damnation! If only we had gotten this intelligence sooner we could have stopped him at the pass!"
"So what shall I advise my translator tell them?"
"A moment." Nicholas raised a hand, the other traced the route. "Ah, there it is. We will cut them off in Ghazni. The troops will be exhausted from the long march, no match for an attack from the populace. We'll dispatch some men to stir up the town against them - you know the usual stories of, ahem, abused hospitality. Reinforcements from Kabul could not arrive until it was far too late. Truly this was a stroke of good fortune for we will be able to decimate the British forces in Kabul without having to wear our own people out with an attack from Kandahar - they will come to us. We'll alert Ayub to send a battalion from Maiwand to finish off the survivors. By the time Phayre reaches Kandahar it will be in the hands of our allies - as will the fate of Afghanistan be."
I gasped silently. This was what Bond had been investigating! Uncle Richard and Nicholas were in league with the enemy! They were intending to betray our soldiers in Afghanistan - but what could possess them to do such a thing?
"Anyhow the matter should be decided in time for Christmas." Nicholas lolled back in his chair taking leisurely sip of brandy.
"I must give you credit, it is a masterful bit of strategy."
"Well, credit must truly go to our man in MI 6 - without him I should be planning without eyes. It is no great challenge to consolidate the information from he and Khan's men into something actionable."
A spy in the Secret Service! So that was how they were getting their information. I had to tell Lord Norbert immediately! Unconsciously, I shifted my weight to make my escape. The creak of the floorboard seemed deafening. Nicholas snapped his head to face the source of the sound. My heart stopped as his eyes met my own still peering through the crack in the door - the once warm brown irises were now cold and heartless as steel.