Vera’s voice was low and confidential as she spoke to her sister. “Millie said she’s getting worse. The physicians don’t know what else to do.”
Ivonne tugged her needle through the dress she was mending. “There’s no cure for madness. Everyone knows that, and the commander’s abuse drove her insane.”
The commander. The words pierced through Clare’s distraction and her head jerked up from her letters. “What did you say?”
Ivonne and Vera shot her a look, hands freezing in their work. Vera wet her lips. “Nothing.”
Clare’s her eyes narrowed. “Are you talking about Commander Markam?”
The sisters eyed each other, and it was Ivonne who finally straightened in her seat. “Yes.”
“Ivonne,” Vera warned lowly.
“Oh, it’s hardly a secret,” Ivonne said, dropping her mending to her lap as she focused on Clare. “The commander used to beat his wife. And Bennick.”
Ice shot through Clare’s veins and her grip on the letters clenched. “What?”
Vera frowned at her sister, her small nose scrunching. “It’s not our affair.”
Ivonne ignored her, focused solely on Clare. “You met Millie—she’s Lady Markam’s maid and has been for years. She knows the family better than anyone. She says the commander used to abuse Bennick and the lady—and now Lady Markam is insane.”
“She isn’t insane.” Vera glanced uneasily about the room, as if she expected the woman to suddenly appear. “She’s just ill.”
Ivonne’s mouth thinned. “That’s what the commander says. He doesn’t want any stains on his name.”
Clare’s stomach rolled. The images that sparked to mind of a young Bennick—only Mark’s age—being hit by the commander . . . everything inside her screamed. Having felt the commander’s heavy hand, Clare shuddered to think of what he’d done to his wife and child. Fates, was Lady Markam still being abused? She couldn’t believe Bennick would allow that. Even if he’d been helpless against his father once, he certainly wasn’t now. But his hatred of his father made more sense. Clare felt her fury rising.
Vera picked up her sewing, her mouth a thin line. “This isn’t our affair,” she repeated. She turned to Clare. “You should read your letters. We don’t have long before your dance lesson.”
She was right. And while Clare could stand here reeling from the revelations about Bennick’s past, she knew there would be no answers. Not right now, anyway. But she could have news from home, and she craved that.
She sank onto the settee and unfolded the thick parchment of the first letter, written in Thomas’s deliberate script.
Dear Clare,
I hope you’re well. We miss you every day, but things are good. We got even more toys and books and Mistress Keller is teaching us a lot. When will you come visit? I hope soon.
Eliot came by the other night. Don’t worry, Mistress Keller didn’t see him. He wanted to know if we had heard from you and he was worried when we hadn’t. He said you’re in danger, and now I’m worried for you. Please write and let me know you’re safe.
Love, Thomas
Clare frowned as she re-read the lines about Eliot. Why couldn’t he keep his fears to himself? With a sigh, she set the letter aside and opened Mark’s letter. His handwriting was hurried; ink splotched the page and the words were a punch to her gut.
Clare, I miss you. Thomas says you’ll never come back. Please come back.
Mark
“Clare?” Vera asked, brow furrowed in concern.
She flashed a weak smile. “I’m missed, that’s all.”
Compassion lit Vera’s eyes. “Would you like to write replies?”
Clare nodded, still overcome with her rioting emotions.
Vera left the room to fetch writing materials and Clare opened Mistress Keller’s letter. It was a kindly written update on the boys, though she also expressed her worry for them. She encouraged Clare to write and to visit as soon as she was able.
Though Clare wanted to run home and see them now, she knew that wasn’t an option. So she took the supplies Vera brought her and composed letters, including one for Eliot, reusing the same assurances that she was well and pleading for them to be happy. She prayed they’d listen. She couldn’t find the words to tell them she would be accompanying the princess to Mortise. She didn’t know if the king would let her visit them before the journey, but she would prefer to tell them in person if at all possible.
She addressed the four letters, but someone rapped on the door before she could seal them. Wilf in all his terrifying intensity was on the other side, ready to escort them to Mistress Henley for the dance lesson.
Clare wasn’t about to argue with him. She left the unsealed letters on the table and followed Vera and Ivonne out.
Chapter 19
Bennick
Bennick’s meeting with King Newlan was not pleasant. The king was still livid about the Night Sigh incident and that nothing more had been learned about the would-be assassin. The king had also learned about Wilf’s outburst on the training field and he made it clear that one more misstep from Wilf would mark the end of the man’s career.
Bennick had been the princess’s lead bodyguard for two years, but as the king reprimanded him and second-guessed every decision he’d made in the last couple weeks, Bennick had felt like a novice. With Newlan glaring down at him, it didn’t matter that Bennick had worked hard to win his place. It didn’t matter that he’d proven to the king, the princess, himself, and his men that he could manage this position.
When Bennick was finally dismissed he left the spacious throne room and hurried through the halls, trying to shake the dark mood away as he quickened his step. What he needed was to see Clare. He might even reach her in time to escort her to her dance lesson.
Bennick was always eager to see her. Their time in training wasn’t enough, though he relished every moment. It was a good thing Clare was a diligent student; he didn’t think she’d
