But now… how on earth was she going hide a wooden stake on her person? One couldn't just slip it into one's glove! Or down one's bodice!
'Not to worry, my dear Melly. I'm sure the chit is just a bit distracted, with her coming-out in less than a fortnight.' Lady Petronilla Fenworth smiled gently at Victoria as she retrieved her steaming cup. Of the three matrons, she bore the sweetest disposition; one that matched her delicate, angelic face and tiny frame. She reminded Victoria of a china doll. 'After waiting in mourning for nearly two years, I am certain she is finally in raptures that she is to debut at last!'
'Indeed she is,' replied Victoria's mother, the celebrated beauty of the trio. 'I have great hopes for her on the mart, for though she is two years older than most of the others, she is certainly beautiful enough to catch the eye of a marquess… or even perhaps a duke!' She looked fondly at her eldest daughter, who had replaced the teapot and now tried to appear interested in the ensuing conversation.
Lady Winifred, who was the other of Melisande's lifelong friends, leaned forward to select a biscuit with plump fingers. She looked up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 'My sister by marriage tells me that Rockley will be seeking a wife this year at last!'
'Rockley!' The other two elder women repeated the name in unison, their tones bordering on a squeal, as if they were the eligible misses instead of Victoria. Since both ladies had been married for nigh on a quarter century (at least until Melisande had been widowed a year earlier), it was quite unnecessary and rather… earsplitting.
'Victoria, did you hear what Winifred said?' her mother repeated, grasping her hand. 'The Marquess of Rockley is seeking a bride! We must ensure he is invited to your coming-out. Winnie, will your sister by marriage be attending?'
'I shall see to it—and that she insist her husband bring Rockley. Nothing would please me more than to see our dear Victoria steal the heart—and purse—of the elusive Marquess of Rockley.' Winifred, who had been widowed a decade earlier and was childless, had fairly adopted Victoria as her own. Betwixt Petronilla, Winifred, and, of course, Melisande, Victoria had three full-time mothers worrying about her marriage prospects.
She was more worried about whether the small crucifix she sometimes wore about her neck would be enough to deter a salacious vampire.
According to Aunt Eustacia, it would; but as Victoria had yet to come face-to-face with one of the creatures, she wasn't completely convinced. In fact, that had become her biggest source of distraction in the last days—when would she see her first vampire?
Would one simply leap out of the woodwork one evening? Or would she have some kind of warning?
A sharp rapping on the parlor door drew the tittering ladies' attention from discussions of Rockley's physique and his income. 'Yes, Jimmons?' asked Melisande when the butler peered into the room.
'I am in receipt of a summons for Miss Victoria to Lady Eustacia Gardella's home. Her ladyship's carriage awaits the young miss, if she agrees to attend her aunt.'
Victoria set down her teacup with a sharp clatter. More training. And a chance to ask more questions of her aunt.
'Mother,' she said as she rose rather more abruptly than she'd intended.
Especially since Aunt Eustacia's assistant, a man named Kritanu, had spent the last two weeks teaching her to move with quick, precise actions. And how to fell a man with the perfect kick. How to take an attacker by surprise by dodging and leaping in a most unladylike manner. Her mother would expire on the spot if she had seen the way Victoria had learned to strike with her arms, legs, and even her head. 'I would attend Aunt Eustacia, if you will excuse me.'
Melly looked up at her, her round face a version of Victoria's own narrower, more elegant one. 'You have grown quite attached to my aunt in these last weeks, my dear. I am sure it gives the elderly lady great pleasure to have your company. I do hope she does not feel slighted when the Season begins and you are dancing at balls or attending the theater every night.'
Dancing at balls, attending the theater, stalking vampires.
Without a doubt, Victoria was going to be an extraordinarily busy debutante.
On the night of her debut—which, due first to the death of her grandfather, and then to the death of her father, had been delayed two years after she had attained the age of seventeen—Victoria sat at her dressing table looking every inch the proper young miss.
Her ink-black hair, a mass of wild curls, had been piled high at the back of her head and pinned to within an inch of its life. It would not dare shift or sag, regardless of the alacrity with which its mistress might dance, curtsy, or otherwise hare about.
Jet beads and the palest of pink pearls had been woven into her curls, and the black beads shone and sparkled when she turned her head, whilst the pearls glowed with the same pale hue of her gown. Matching gems hung from her ears, and a rose-colored necklace of pearls and quartz encircled her neck. Dangling from the front was, instead of a cameo brooch, a small silver crucifix.
Victoria's gown bore the faintest tinge of pink, and fell in diaphanous pleats from under her bosom to the tips of her shoes. The skirt was flowing and very nearly sheer; underneath she wore two more layers of translucent ivory. The dress's low, square décolletage left a rather large expanse of creamy white skin exposed, from choker necklace to the very tops of her breasts. And her gloves, long and virginal white, went past her elbows, nearly touching the tiny puffed sleeves.
Indeed, Victoria appeared every bit the demure, ingenuous debutante that she was… except for the solid wooden stake she held in her hand.
It was the circumference of two of her fingers and nearly the length of her arm from wrist to elbow. One end was sanded smooth, and the other whittled to a needle-sharp point. It was too thick to weave into her coiffure, much too long to fit in the small bag that dangled from her wrist.
'Under your skirts, my dear. Slip it into the knee garter under your skirts,' Aunt Eustacia told her calmly. She had a face lined with age, but glowing with beauty and intelligence, as if every bit of happiness from all of her eighty-some years shone at one time. Her hair, still blue-black, she wore scraped back into an intricate mass of coils intertwined with seed pearls, white lace, and jet beads. It was a coiffure more appropriate for a girl Victoria's age than for an aging woman. Yet Aunt Eustacia carried it well; as well as she wore her high-necked gown of blood-red taffeta.
'Why do you think I gave you the garter? Be quick; your mother is bound to return at any moment!'
'Under my skirts?'
'You must be able to access it quickly and easily, Victoria. It will be well hidden, and with practice you will learn to slip it easily from underneath and have it in your hand when you need it. Now be quick!' Aunt Eustacia did not wait for her to move; she twitched at Victoria's skirts, exposing the ivory lace garter tied just below her knee, and watched as her niece slipped the stick betwixt lace and flesh.
No sooner had they finished than the door opened, and Lady Melisande burst in, followed by her two twittering companions. ''Tis time, Victoria! Come, come!'
'You look lovely! Absolutely breathtaking!' Petronilla gushed, peering at herself in the mirror from behind Victoria and fussing with an immovable curl of her own.
'Rockley is below,' crowed Winifred, bumping into Victoria's elbow as she edged past her to reach for a papery-white clove of garlic that sat amid jewelry, scent bottles, and ornate combs. 'What on earth is this?' she asked, straightening to bring it close to her pince-nez as if to confirm that it was, indeed, garlic.
Glancing at Eustacia in the mirror, Victoria forced a smile and leaned conspiratorially toward Winifred and Petronilla. 'Aunt Eustacia brought it for me,' she said in a low voice. 'She claims it will protect me from vampires.' Deliberately, she drew one eyelid down in a slow wink, and, making a point of glancing over her shoulder as if to be sure her great-aunt wasn't listening, she took the garlic from Winifred. 'I'll just leave it here.'
Petronilla and Winifred nodded, wide-eyed with suppressed humor, and cast amused glances at Aunt Eustacia. Victoria was the only one who saw the elderly lady wink back at her.
'I cannot wait to introduce you to Rockley!' Lady Winnie burbled as they filed out of the room. 'He's danced with Lady Gwendolyn Starcasset more than once in the last week, but he hasn't met
