Chapter 14
Dora slept quite late the morning after the ball. When she did finally awaken, she found herself wondering whether she had dreamed the whole thing. Surely, Dora thought, Vanessa would be able to tell her what was real and what was false—but when Dora went downstairs, her cousin was curiously nowhere to be found.
“Miss Vanessa has stepped out with Mr Edward Lowe,” the butler told Dora, when she asked after her cousin.
Dora considered this curiously. “With a chaperone, of course?” she asked. “Did Miss Jennings go with them, perhaps?”
“No, Miss Ettings,” the butler replied politely. “Mr Lowe requested a private audience with Miss Vanessa, and Lady Lockheed granted her permission.”
Dora blinked slowly. She was not by any stretch the most socially astute woman. But even she understood what such a private audience must mean.
Edward Lowe is proposing to Vanessa, Dora thought. The idea seemed even more unreal than the long, surreal evening which she had spent with Elias. After all of the hens’ scheming and gnashing of teeth, they had finally succeeded in their aim: any moment now, Vanessa would be engaged to a viscount-in-waiting. Surely, within just a few short weeks, she would be married.
And Dora would be alone.
It was so difficult even to envision the idea that Dora brushed it away in confusion. Perhaps not, she thought. Vanessa said that she would want me to stay with her after she is married. I am sure she will not change her mind.
But... no. Dora was not sure. There was no reason to expect that Vanessa had changed her mind—but what if she had? Either way, everything would change completely as soon as Vanessa reappeared through that door.
“Dora!” Auntie Frances snapped from the top of the stairs. “You are finally awake, I see. Good. I will have the maids begin packing immediately.”
Dora frowned distractedly. She wasn’t sure, suddenly, just how long she had been standing there staring at the door. “Packing?” she asked. “What are we packing, Auntie Frances?”
“Your things, of course,” Auntie Frances said in exasperation. “Vanessa will be back with a ring at any moment. The church will begin reading the banns this week, I am sure. The very last thing we need is for you to do something silly to upset the engagement before Vanessa and the viscount are safely married!”
Dora laughed with a hint of dazed confusion. “Edward is not a viscount yet,” she told Auntie Frances. “His father is still viscount. What a strange idea that would be, if Vanessa were to marry Albert’s father. Lady Carroway is very generous, but I do not think that she is quite that generous—”
Auntie Frances marched down the stairs and grabbed her by the arm. “This is exactly the sort of nonsense I am talking about!” she said, with a hard edge in her voice. “You simply cannot say such things in public. It will be far better to have you in Lockheed.”
Dora struggled against Auntie Frances’ grip, wriggling halfway free from her bony fingers. “I cannot go back to Lockheed,” she said, in a voice far more reasonable than she would have preferred. “Vanessa asked me to be at her wedding. And I must find a husband, you said—”
“—Vanessa does not need you at her wedding!” Auntie Frances interrupted in irritation. “And we both know that you will never be married, Dora. Mr Lowe has still shown no inclination to offer for you. We can hardly expect the countess to continue to house you here on a hopeless whim.”
What is happening? Dora thought dimly. This was all far too quick. Vanessa was getting married. Jane was still dying. George Ricks was still a terrible villain. Dora could not possibly go back to Lockheed.
“The Lord Sorcier is courting me,” Dora said evenly, though the words awoke a fresh confusion in her stomach. “He cannot have made his interest any more clear, Auntie Frances.”
He is only courting me to keep the others away, Dora thought. But his suit should be enough to keep me here as well, shouldn’t it?
Auntie Frances curled her lip, and she pinched Dora’s arm sharply. “Do not speak to me of that magician!” she hissed. “You have made enough of a fool of yourself, Dora, taking up with him as though you are already engaged. Dancing all night together, really? All of that close waltzing! If the man truly wishes to offer for you, then he may do it in Lockheed—but I will not suffer him to tatter our family’s reputation any further with his rude manners!”
What remained of Dora’s heart sank horribly in her chest.
Auntie Frances hauled her back up the stairs, and shoved her unceremoniously back into her bedroom. “Get dressed for the road, Dora,” her aunt ordered her. “It is still early morning yet. I shall have you safely on the road within the hour, by God.”
Dora opened her mouth to respond—but before she could manage so much as another word, her aunt closed the door with a sharp snap.
The silence of the room deepened around her. Slowly, it pressed in, smothering her thoughts like a heavy blanket. Dora stood in place, trying to make her mind work—but even more than usual, it refused to focus. Somehow, the more effort she expended trying to anchor herself in the moment, the less Dora was able to concentrate at all.
She forced herself to take a few steps across the room, if only to make her body move. Inevitably, she found herself at the dresser, digging in the drawer where she had hidden the scrying mirror.
But the mirror was gone. So too, Dora realised, were the flowers that had been on that dresser.
The hens have thrown them both away, Dora thought, with rising dread. We came back so late last night, I did not even notice.
Dora stepped back again, shivering with confusion.
I must do something, she thought. This is not a dream, however much it
