The Gates of Sleep

He regarded her thoughtfully, holding out his hand, but not to her—a tiny glow surrounded it for a moment, and she was not surprised to see his horse pace gravely forward until its nose touched, then nudged, his hand. He caressed its cheek absently.

“I don’t know anything about the magicians of this part of the country,” he admitted. “Is she, perhaps, the antagonistic Element of Fire?”

“She’s not a magician at all, so far as anyone can tell. I have never seen anything about her that made me think that was not true. And again, I thought that might be the reason for my reluctance, because I have been taught to be wary around those who do not have the gifts themselves—but even in the privacy of my own rooms, I cannot bring myself to summon the tiniest Elemental.”

“Still—if she is the antagonist Element, but has been equally reluctant to practice around you because of possible conflicts that could only complicate your situation with her?” he persisted.

She frowned at him. “Possible, but there are no signs of it, none at all. As for the antagonistic Element, I’ve lived with my Uncle Sebastian all my life, and the worst clash we ever had was over which of us got the last currant bun at tea.” She tilted her head to one side, as his expression turned thoughtful.

“In that case—could it simply be that you resent your aunt’s interference in your life?” he hazarded, then shook his head. “You must forgive me again, but I am accustomed to asking very uncomfortable questions of my patients. Very often the only way for them to begin recovery is to confront uncomfortable, even painful truths.”

“I thought of that, but—” she would have said more, but the sound of another horse’s hooves approaching from the direction of Oakhurst made her bite off her words. Curse it—she thought, knowing immediately that it must be one of the servants, or Reginald, or even Arachne herself come looking for her. “Dr. Pike, I spend every Wednesday afternoon with the vicar playing chess,” she said hurriedly, thinking, All right—it was only one Wednesday, but surely I can turn it into a regular meeting. And she had no time to say anything more, for around the corner came Reginald, riding one of the hunters, a big bay beast with a mouth like cast iron and a phlegmatic temperament. Riding easily, too, which she would not necessarily have expected from someone she thought of as a townsman. His riding coat and hat were of the finest cut and materials, but she would not have expected less.

“Marina!” he called, his voice sounding unnecessarily hearty, “I thought I would ride down to meet you. Is there anything the matter?”

“Nothing at all, Reggie,” she said smoothly. “This is Dr. Pike of the Briareley Sanitarium. We’ve had a chance encounter—Dr. Pike, this is my cousin, Reginald Chamberten.”

“It was something less convenient for Miss Roeswood, I am afraid,” Doctor Pike said, as cool and impersonal as Marina could have wished. “One of my patients took unauthorized leave, and Miss Roeswood here was kind enough to detain her long enough for my people to arrive, persuade her that all was well, and take her back.”

Reggie’s eyebrows assumed that ever-so-superior angle that Marina had come to detest. “Well, Doctor, you’ll have to do better about keeping control of your patients! Dangerous lunatics running about the neighborhood —”

But Pike interrupted him with an icy laugh. “What, a little girl, frightened out-of-doors by a loud noise? Hardly dangerous, Mr. Chamberten. I do not keep dangerous patients, only those whose delicate nerves are better served by pleasant surroundings in the quiet of the countryside. And, sadly, a few who are, alas, in no condition to take notice of anything, much less leave their beds.”

“Hmm.” Reggie looked down his handsome nose at the doctor, and seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in being his arrogant worst. “Still, patients escaping—frightening young ladies—”

“I was hardly frightened, Reggie,” Marina objected, suddenly tired of her cousin’s little games. “I was far more concerned that the poor child didn’t run off into the fields and come to grief. Even Brownie was more indignant than startled when she popped up under her hooves.” Reggie’s eyes narrowed, and she decided that it was politic to say no more. Instead, she put her foot in the stirrup and mounted before either man could offer her help. No small feat in a corset and long skirts—and into a sidesaddle; delicate young ladies accustomed to fainting at the least exertion couldn’t do it. She thought she saw a brief flash of admiration in Dr. Pike’s eyes before he returned to his pose of cool indifference.

“Still, letting your patients run off like that strikes me as careless,” Reggie persisted.

“When the patients are themselves unpredictable, it is difficult to imagine what they are going to do in advance,” the doctor replied in a tone of complete indifference. “That is one of the challenges of my profession. And if you will excuse me, I had better get on with my business so that I can get back to them. Thank you again, Miss Roeswood. A pleasure to meet you. Good day, Mr. Chamberten.” With that, he hopped into his little gig and sent the horse briskly down the road toward the village.

“The cheek!” Reggie muttered, glaring after him.

“He’s a doctor, cousin,” Marina retorted, tapping Brownie’s flank with her heel, and sending the horse back toward Oakhurst. “I believe arrogance even to the point of rudeness is required of them, like a frock coat. Otherwise they lose that air of the omniscient.”

Reggie stared at her for a moment, then burst out with a great bray of a laugh, startling his horse. “Oh, well put, little cuz,” he said, in tones that suggested he would be patting her head if he could reach it. “Now, the reason I came down here in the first place was because the mater and I had an early tea, and we’re going to be going off for a day or two. Not more than three. Business, don’t you know, a bit of an emergency came up—we’ll be taking the last train tonight. Mater’s left orders with the servants to take care of everything, and Mary Anne has been put in charge of them, so you won’t have to trouble your pretty little head about anything.”

She turned wide eyes on him. “That is very kind of her,” she said, wondering if she sounded as insincere as she felt. The only possible benefit to all of this was that Mary Anne might consider it enough to oversee her behavior at mealtimes and leave her alone the rest of the time. She thought about asking whether she would still be allowed to ride out, and then decided that she wouldn’t ask. If she didn’t say anything, Arachne might forget to forbid her.

Reggie smiled down at her from his superior height. “I suppose that old pile of Oakhurst seems rather overwhelming to you, doesn’t it, cuz?” he laughed. “Bit different from that little cottage in Cornwall.”

“It’s not what I was used to,” she murmured, dropping her eyes to stare at Brownie’s neck.

“I should think not. Well, you just let us take care of it all for you,” he said in that voice that drove her mad. She made monosyllabic replies to his conversation, something that only seemed to encourage him. Evidently, despite direct evidence to the contrary, he considered her timid.

But at least his monologue gave her plenty of information without her having to ask for it. Something had come up in the course of the afternoon that required their personal attention having to do with the factory near Exeter; they had called for tea and ordered the servants to pack, then Reggie had been dispatched to the Rectory to fetch Marina back. The carriage would take them to the nearest station to catch the last train, and there was some urgency to get there in order to make the connection. It sounded as if there hadn’t been time for Arachne to issue many orders; in order to get to the station in time, they would have to leave immediately.

So it proved; when Marina and Reggie rode through the gates the carriage, the big traveling one that required two horses, was already at the door, and one of the grooms waited to take Reggie’s horse. Arachne seemed both excited and annoyed, but more the former than the latter. “Amuse yourself quietly while we’re gone, Marina,” she called, as Reggie climbed out of the saddle and into the carriage. “We’ll be back by Saturday at the latest.”

Then the coachman flicked the reins over the horses, and the carriage rolled away before she could issue any direct orders to Marina or anyone else.

For a moment she sat in her saddle as still as a stone. She was quite alone for the moment. She was on a fresh horse. And the two people with authority to stop her from leaving were gone. I could ride right down to the village and past. I could go home—

Oh yes, she could go home. But if she did that, it would be no more than a week at most, and probably less, before Arachne appeared again at Blackbird Cottage with her lawyers and possibly more police, and she would be perfectly within her rights to do so.

I could only make trouble for Margherita and Sebastian and Thomas. The police, at the least, would not be happy, not happy at all.

What could Marina claim, anyway, as an excuse for escaping from her legal guardian? That her aunt was somehow abusing her with the lessons in etiquette, and the bizarre meals they shared? Arachne ate the same food, which was presumably wholesome, if unpalatable. And as for the etiquette, it could be reasonably argued that