Fateful (26 page)

“You should find better places while you still can. While our references still mean something,” Irene repeats. Ned shakes his head, a silent
no
—I understand without any other sign that there’s no other place for him than where she is.

Mrs. Horne has been wobbling back and forth all this time, like a child’s toy sent spinning. In that same broken voice, she says, “Lady Regina will be very cross when she returns from morning tea.”

I can’t take any more of this. “Well, I was just let go. I take it I’ll receive no leaving wages. I’ll have my uniform sent up to you later this afternoon.”

Ned grabs at my arm. “You’re leaving just like that? Come on—it’s been a strange day, and we’re none of us ourselves.”

“I’m leaving.” The words catch in my throat. Funny, how I thought about all the bigger changes that would happen in my life when I left the Lisles’ service, but I never once realized it would hurt to leave one of the few friends I’ve ever had. I clasp his hand in mine. “Be happy, Ned. Do whatever it takes. Don’t let anything stand in your way.” Then to Irene I say only, “Thank you. For everything.”

And that’s it. I walk out of the Lisles’ suite for what promises to be the very last time. When I daydreamed about this, I thought it would feel like victory; instead, it’s scary. But there’s no way left for me to go but ahead.

“Tess!” I glance back to see Irene hurrying after. When she falls into step beside me, I realize that her demeanor has subtly altered; we are no longer mistress and servant, but two friends walking side by side. “You should have this.”

She presses something into my hand; I look down and realize, to my astonishment, that it’s two ten-pound notes. More money than I’ve seen in one place in my life—and far more than I’d saved to start over in New York.

“I don’t deserve this,” I say. I’m not about to admit to stealing the Initiation Blade, but surely Irene knows.

“You’re owed something—you and your family. Send it to Daisy, if you think that’s best. I sent her a little when I could.”

Irene always knew about baby Matthew. It shouldn’t surprise me so much, and yet—downstairs we know so much about them, and they seem to be so blind to us. But Irene’s never been as blind as the others, has she? I ought to have known it wasn’t Layton who helped look after Daisy in those first awful months. “I will, miss.”

“Call me Irene,” she says. “Where will you go?”

“New York City’s as good a place to start over as any.” We face each other in the hallway. “I expect I’ll find work quickly enough.”

“I’ve half a mind to join you.” Her eyes are sad. “But I’d go west. Where the cowboys are. Can ladies be cowboys? Riding’s the only thing I know how to do.”

We’re both smiling through tears now at her little joke. “You’d look a sight in one of those ten-gallon hats.”

“I would at that.” Irene holds out her hand, and I shake it. Perhaps it’s oddly formal, given how close we’ve been these past few years, but it’s nice to part like friends. Then she turns and goes back to her wrecked cabin, her wrecked life.

My first instinct is to return to Alec and sink into his arms, but that’s wrong. He’s been through so much last night and this morning; he’s exhausted and heartsore, and I don’t need to expect him to support me right now. I’m in no condition to support him, either. The nights on end without adequate sleep have taken their toll, and though it’s early, this morning has been enough to make me certain this will prove to be one of the most tumultuous days of my life.

I return to third class and my cabin. The only person there is Myriam, who glances up from her book, takes one look at me, and says, “Good God, how could it have gotten any worse?”

“I quit my job. Or they fired me. I’m not sure which. Either way, I don’t work for the Lisles any longer.”

She hops off the bunk to study me more carefully. “Is that all?”

“No. But it’s all I can say.” Revealing more about the Brotherhood to Myriam than she already knows would only endanger her. “I’m so tired.”

Myriam hesitates, and I know she wants to interrogate me in-depth about what’s taken place this morning. Instead she takes my elbow and guides me to the other bunk, helping me climb to my bed.

I shake the pins in my hair loose and toss away my linen servant’s cap, which I’ve worn for the last time. Irene’s ten-pound notes remain clenched in my hand. They’re the one part of my uncertain future that’s real.

Through the haze of exhaustion, I sense Myriam pulling a blanket over me. I want to thank her, but sleep claims me faster than I can speak.

When I open my eyes again, the light in the room has changed. I sit up, groggy and unsure of the hour. Myriam’s still there, curled up on her own bunk and considerably farther along in her book.

“I was beginning to think you’d sleep straight through until tomorrow morning,” she says.

“What time is it?” My voice is a croak. I run my fingers through my hair; golden curls are spilling out in every direction. I’m going to have to pay more attention to my hairstyle from now on, since I won’t have the cap to hide beneath.

“Late afternoon. I saved you some food from dinner.” She points toward the one small table in the room, which holds a napkin with some rolls and cheese. Next to it is one folded sheet of notepaper. Myriam, perhaps seeing me notice it, says, “That letter came for you.”

It could be from Lady Regina, demanding that I return to service or at least send my uniform up immediately. But I know it’s not. I clamber down from the bunk, still blinking sleep from my eyes, and take up the notepaper.

Tess,

Lady Regina appeared at luncheon, saying that Layton was “ill.” I could see from Irene’s expression that there was more to the story, but obviously he’s alive; Mikhail didn’t do his worst. I’m grateful for that, for the family’s sake at least.

She also announced that you’d been let go. I imagine that was quite a scene. She obviously thought I should know that there are penalties for defying her efforts at matchmaking. But I hope you are enjoying having another afternoon at liberty, the first of many days when you’ll choose your own path.

If you have more free time at dusk, will you join me in my cabin? Even though I know you understand—you more than anyone—there are things we need to say.

Alec

“Alec wants me to come to his room just before sunset,” I say.

Myriam frowns. “This doesn’t strike me as the wisest time to visit a werewolf.”

“Tonight he won’t change. At least—we think he won’t change.” When she gives me a look, I sigh. “I promise, you don’t want to know.”

“Are you going to him?” She is serious now, more kindly than I’ve ever seen her. “I know you care for him, but—you know what he is. That there is no hope. Being with Alec Marlowe can only cause you pain.”

“I know. He knows that too.” The paper trembles in my unsteady hands. As short and kind as Alec’s note is, I understand perfectly why he’s asked me to his cabin. We as much as said good-bye before Mikhail arrived and the initiation ceremony began. But neither of us can let go yet. Not while we might be able to steal one more night.

Chapter 23

WHEN I KNOCK ON THE DOOR OF THE MARLOWES’ cabin in the late afternoon, nobody answers at first. Then Alec calls, “Come in.”

Despite my need to see him, I hesitate before walking inside. His voice is ragged, tense—the way I remember it in the hours just after the change, or just before.

It’s not long before sunset. Did the touch of silver during his initiation undo all the ancient magic? Will Alec transform into a wolf as always?

But then I remember how the red wolf fought to keep himself from hurting me that first night, and how he attacked to defend me when he thought I was in danger. I’m safe with Alec—safer than I am anywhere else.

As I walk inside, Alec is standing at the open door to their private promenade deck. His father is nowhere to be seen. A fire flickers in the fireplace, which surprises me until I realize the breeze blowing in is chillier than it has been before on this journey.

Alec holds out one hand to me. “Watch the sunset with me.”

I close and lock the door behind us, then go to him. He wears trousers and his white shirt, but the sleeves are rolled up and the collar unfastened. In fact, the shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest. It would be shockingly improper if we hadn’t had our fourth conversation while he was in the nude. “We’ve done everything out of order, haven’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Told each other our deepest secrets almost before we met. Saw each other in our skivvies before we first kept company.” I look down at his long-fingered hand in mine as the cold wind from the ocean tugs at my gold curls. Pushing the strands back from my face, I finish, “Fell for each other before we could stop ourselves.”

“Tess.” He kisses me tenderly, cupping my face with one palm. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Wore my best for you.” This dress is one I was making for Miss Irene before Lady Regina declared it was too “decided” a shade. It’s dark red, the color of wine in candlelight. Though I wasn’t able to afford the trimmings I would have sewn on for Irene, I finished it nicely; the soft fabric drapes well and outlines my figure while remaining modest enough for most occasions. Though there’s nothing modest about the way Alec is looking at me, or how I feel when he does.

And yet there is sadness in his gaze, too.

“I need you to make me a promise, Tess.” Alec weaves his hands into my hair, holding me fast. He’s as serious now as on the day we met. “Promise me on your soul.”

“Not until you tell me what I’m promising.”

“You won’t like it.”

“People usually don’t make people promise on their soul to do things they’d like to do.” I take a deep breath. “You know I’d do anything for you. But don’t make me swear without knowing what I’m swearing to. Trust me. Tell me the truth first. I want to know.”

Alec nods slowly. Then he drops one hand from my face and reaches toward the table. His fingers close around a broad, sharp knife.

As he presses the handle into my hand, he says, “If I begin to change at sunset—I want you to kill me.”

“What?”

“Touching silver during the Initiation might have prevented the Brotherhood from gaining control of my mind. But it might have disrupted the Initiation so completely that it had no effect. I might still be the werewolf I was before, condemned to change every night.” Alec grimaces in such a way that I know he’s thinking of last night, when a man died because of him. “If that’s true, then I have to end this. I won’t live as a slave, or as a murderer. Death would be my only freedom.”

No
, I think, but I don’t say it. Didn’t I tell Alec I’d do anything for him? And I understand why he’s asking. This isn’t a melodramatic gesture: This is Alec saying he’d rather die than be a danger to others. It is the most principled choice he could make. And yet I cannot curl my fingers around the knife.

“I was going to ask my father.” Alec’s words come in a rush. “But I can’t ask him to kill his own child. Down deep he’s a gentle soul. Doing that would destroy him, forever. I know it wouldn’t be easy for you either, but—you’re strong, Tess. Stronger than I think even you know. I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t bear if you had to.”

“So you’re asking me to bear this.”

The cool air musses his chestnut curls. “You know I hate to ask you. Almost as much as I hate to die. But if the only choice left for my life is be a killer or become the Brotherhood’s slave, then that’s worse than no life at all.”

When I set out on this voyage, I knew I could no longer live as the servant of the Lisles; if the initiation has not set Alec free, then he, too, is looking at a life of servitude—beyond liberty, beyond justice. Though I planned for a way out, what if there had been no way out for me? Would I have lived the rest of my years as a slave, or would I have chosen to end it?

Surely I can give Alec no less mercy than I would have wanted for myself.

Calling on all my strength, I slowly fold my fingers around the handle of the knife until I can pull it away from Alec. I look into his eyes. Though it burns me from the inside out, I say, “Yes. I’ll do it.”

Alec breathes out, relief overriding what must be his terror in the face of death. “Thank you.”

“Did you leave a note for your father? Explaining this?” I gulp back a sob. “If I’ve got to kill you, I’ll do it, but I won’t be hanged for it.”

“Ever practical.” The shadow of a smile flickers across Alec’s handsome face. “I left a note. Two notes, actually, for him to see when he comes back after his late-night brandies with Colonel Gracie. One explains everything, and tells him what I need him to do. The other is a false suicide note. It says that I can’t get over Gabrielle’s death and I’m planning to jump into the ocean. To drown myself.”

Meaning that it would be left to me and Mr. Marlowe to hurl his body overboard and complete the illusion. Surely his body would never be found. It’s as neat a solution as we could ask. And yet it devastates me, thinking of anyone as vital and alive as Alec being nothing more than a corpse, only deadweight to be thrown into the vast, depthless sea. Tears prick at my eyes, but I grip the knife harder.

Alec helps guide my hand until the point of the knife rests just beneath his breastbone—mere inches from his heart. “I’m sorry, Tess. I hate to ask you.”

“Don’t hate asking me to do what has to be done.” I’m strong enough to bear it. I don’t know if I believed that before Alec said it to me, but now I understand it’s true.

The sun has begun dipping below the horizon—a sliver of orange-gold light sliced by the dark line of the ocean. I shiver as the cold wind whips around us, and for a moment I can no longer bear to meet Alec’s dark eyes. I stare out at the water instead, and see a few spurs of ice—far more than I’ve seen at any other time during our voyage. “It’s become so cold,” I whisper. “Are we going farther north? Did we change course?”