“Not at all,” Dora assured her. “I was trying to help him, before the lord of this place stole me away.” She squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “We have been calling you Jane, since we do not know your name. But what should I be calling you?”
The little girl bit her lip uncertainly. But she must have been convinced that there was little she could do to worsen her situation, because she eventually decided to reply. “I’m Abigail,” she said reluctantly.
Dora nodded. “I’m Dora,” she responded. “And this is... well, also me. But you can call her Theodora, I suppose.”
Theodora blinked at that. “I hate the name Theodora!” she protested. “Why can’t you be Theodora?”
“I could call you Charity instead,” Dora observed dryly. “It is one of my middle names.”
Theodora made a face at that. “Oh, fine,” she muttered. “Theodora it is. But I still don’t like it.”
“Would you stop arguin’ with... yourself?” Abigail asked. The little girl glanced between the two versions of Dora, briefly confused. “Do either of you or... or your hob nob magician have a way out of here?”
Dora frowned at that. “He’s not hob nob,” she mumbled. But it wasn’t the time for that discussion, and so she shelved it for later. “Now that I think of it, I am not even sure that Elias knows we’re here—”
A surge of strange heat made Dora waver on her feet. Theodora swayed next to her, and she realised that it had affected them both.
“...I’m so sorry, Dora,” whispered Elias’ voice. “This is all my fault.” There was a hideous anguish in his tone, though the words seemed to come from very far away. “Wake up, please. What must I do for you to wake up?”
Theodora pressed a hand to her chest. Her face was pale. “That was his voice, wasn’t it?” she murmured, with obvious distress. “He sounds so upset.”
Dora leaned heavily against the table in front of her. “Elias?” she asked softly. “Can you hear me?”
The sudden heat in Dora’s body began to ebb away. But for just a moment, she was convinced she could feel a spot of warmth on her lips.
“Is he doing something?” Theodora asked urgently.
Dora bit at her lip. “He is trying something,” she said softly. “And it is failing, just as it has always failed before.” The realisation made her stomach sink all the way to her toes.
Abigail was not enough, Dora thought. Now Elias is convinced that I’ve caught the sleeping plague, too. She stared down at her hands on the table. He must think I contracted the illness from the workhouses. That is the more logical assumption, even if it is wrong.
Elias was not going to realise that Dora had been spirited away to faerie. He would work desperately against her illness... and in the end, he would watch her slowly fade away.
“I must find a way to tell Elias what is going on,” Dora said. “Now more than ever.” She turned towards Abigail. “Do you happen to know where I can find a mirror?”
Abigail shook her head. “Nothin’ like that,” she said. “I did look at myself in a wash tub downstairs once, just to see if I’d changed since comin’ here.”
Dora nodded at that. “Looking into water might suffice,” she said. “I have never tried it before, but we are low on options.”
She meant to reiterate to Abigail that someone was trying to save them—that none of them were alone in the world, and that they had not been forgotten. But she was cut off as the door to the workhouse opened again, and Theodora dragged her quickly down to the floor to hide beneath the table.
“How fine you all look today!” Lord Hollowvale declared with a charming smile. “I declare, all of your virtues continue to increase by the day!”
The faerie had returned from his appointment; in his arms, he held a small bundle which even then began to cry.
Chapter 16
“And what virtue is that?” Abigail demanded loudly. “We’re just twistin’ and untwistin’ a bunch of hemp!” The little girl nudged at Dora with her foot, clearly intending that she and Theodora should sneak their way to the other end of the table.
Lord Hollowvale did not seem at all fazed by this belligerent response. He smiled patronisingly. “Hard work and suffering will improve your virtue,” he told Abigail. “You do not realise it, because you are low-born and prone to laziness. But I was born to a higher station, and so I know what is best for you.”
“Accordin’ to who?” Abigail asked, and she now seemed genuinely flustered.
“Why, according to the English!” Lord Hollowvale said. “Is that not why you were put in a workhouse in the first place? But I can increase your virtue even faster here at Charity House, for you need not even sleep!” Another soft whimper came from the bundle in his arms, and he shifted it absently onto his shoulder. “I do not expect you to thank me, of course, since you are low-born. But generosity should be given without expectation of gratitude, and I must improve my own virtue as much as I can!”
Dora and Theodora crept their way breathlessly towards the other end of the table as he spoke, hiding behind the other children’s feet.
“You’re mad!” Abigail declared.
“Oh, maybe so,” laughed the marquess. “But if I am, then all your nobles and your king must be mad as well!”
“The king is mad, though,” Theodora muttered under her breath. Her face was red and furious. Dora quickly brought her finger to her lips, though she didn’t dare to shush her other half. She is too emotional, Dora thought. We must get out of here before she loses control.
“On that note,” Lord Hollowvale mused. “I have bought a brand new inmate! The price was very dear—Master Ricks assures me that it is difficult to come by newborns—but now I realise that I do not know what to do with it. How does one increase
