“You may help me with a new project,” Lady Carroway replied. “For after tonight, I feel it necessary that we must part with another sliver of our comfortable living, or else I will sleep restless.” The viscountess reached out to tuck a strand of rust-coloured hair behind Dora’s ear. “Mrs Dun is quite at her limit, as is the orphanage itself. Perhaps we could find another building and another administrator. But I will need more than one person keeping an eye out for the right building and the right administrator.”
Dora considered that seriously. “My chaperone, Miss Jennings, is quite excellent with children,” she said. “She is an ex-governess, and she can keep a sick room. She has been generous with her sentiment over the workhouses, and I think she would be very amenable to a permanent position.”
Lady Carroway nodded thoughtfully at that. “I will see if I can engineer a chance to meet her,” she said. “You must come here for tea one day, and bring her along.”
They went back down to dinner, though some of the courses had come and gone, and Albert had disappeared—called up to speak with Elias, one of the servants informed Lady Carroway quietly. Albert’s mother had some food sent up to them both, after which time she settled both herself and Dora closer to the head of the table.
“It is raining dreadfully outside,” Lady Carroway said cheerfully. “As we have accidentally discovered.” It is drizzling, Dora thought with mild amusement. But she did not contradict their hostess. “I really must insist that you all stay the evening with us, Lady Lockheed,” the viscountess continued. “It will be far more pleasant for you to stay inside where it is warm and dry, and to take off fresh in the morning.”
Auntie Frances had been looking at Dora and her borrowed dress with a familiar, growing suspicion—the sort of expression that asked what strange thing have you done now? But at this invitation, Dora’s aunt became all smiles and undying gratitude. “You are so gracious to offer,” she cooed to Lady Carroway. “I would decline, but since it is so awful out, I will stay for the sake of the girls. I cannot bear the thought of them catching cold for such a small thing as my pride.”
Lady Carroway sent a runner back to Hayworth House, informing the countess that they would be staying the evening. As dinner wound to a close, the gathering retired to a drawing room, whereupon Lord Carroway snuck himself a brandy and Lady Carroway requested to hear Vanessa on the pianoforte. Dora settled herself on a sofa in the corner, sorting quietly through her strange piles of emotion as she listened. Dimly, she noticed Lady Carroway’s oldest son, Edward, watching Vanessa with the same sort of stricken expression that Dora had seen so many times before on other suitors. Even if I never marry Albert, Dora thought. I suspect the hens will have their true desire soon enough.
Even as Dora thought this, Vanessa glanced over the piano at her with a desperately quizzical look. Dora realised that her cousin was far too preoccupied with the evening’s earlier events to notice her lovelorn attendant. She rose to her feet and padded over towards the piano, settling herself onto the bench next to Vanessa.
“I will play the simple part of a duet, if you like,” Dora said.
Vanessa searched her eyes—for distress, or confusion, or fear, Dora was sure. As she found nothing immediately concerning, however, Vanessa forced a smile. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she agreed.
“The situation has sorted itself,” Dora said softly, beneath the strains of the piano. “Elias has calmed himself and made his apologies.” I am almost certain that he has apologised to Albert by now, Dora thought.
“I did not realise the Lord Sorcier had such an awful temper,” Vanessa murmured back. “I begin to think that you were right, Dora. We must find someone else to help you.”
One of those flutters returned to Dora’s stomach. “I do not want someone else to help me,” she said. “Elias may have an awful temper, it is true. But he is angry about all of the right things. It’s so very strange, Vanessa. I cannot think of respecting anyone who does not feel at least a little angry at all of this injustice now. It is almost nonsensical to be calm about it.”
Vanessa pursed her lips at that. At first, Dora thought she may have accidentally insulted her cousin. But then, Vanessa said: “You call him Elias?”
Dora missed a note on the piano, and promptly apologised.
I have used his name too much tonight, Dora thought. When else did I use it? I have likely embarrassed myself without noticing.
“I can forgive much,” Vanessa said softly. “But if he should ever speak to you the way that he spoke to Lady Carroway, I will find a new pair of scissors, Dora.”
Dora managed a smile at that. “You do not need to find a new pair of scissors, Vanessa,” she said. “You gave me a pair of my own, and you taught me how to use them.”
For just a few hours, the lantern warmth between them returned. Dora basked in its glow, letting the feeling soothe the long-tailed worries that had built up within her over the course of the evening.
It was another very different feeling, being bundled into a bed that wasn’t even her normal borrowed bed. Dora tried to sleep, but she soon found herself pacing the bedroom, in search of some feeling which she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
The mirror, she thought after a few minutes, pausing her steps. Dora had not scryed on Elias more than a handful of times—but she had grown used to the idea of having the mirror nearby, so that she could do if she wanted to. Elias was under the very same roof tonight, and yet she found herself unsettled knowing that she could not speak to him, to know whether he had ended
