“I thought the same.” Thessaly kept her voice even. “But please do write and let me know if there is anything I can do.”
“Laudine is coming out tonight by train. She knows the household well enough to handle things for Maman.” And she had not been a favourite of her brother-in-law’s, even before whatever had happened last summer. “We will name Dagobert as Heir in due course. Temporarily, of course. But at least there is that line to continue, without having to consider any of the cousins.”
“Ah.” Another reason for the pressure to marry. And then to produce at least two children as promptly as possible, whatever else Thessaly might have wanted to do with her time. She could not argue with the pragmatism. “And your grandmother?”
“Desolate. In her rooms, of course, as well. It has been very hard on her. First Grand-père, then Childeric, and she doted on Childeric. And now Father.” Sigbert looked away, over into the greenery. Without looking back, he said softly, “I don’t know if I can be who they need.”
Thessaly rested her hand on his, one of her fingertips brushing that ring in passing. She felt a slight charge from it, not a brief burst of the ordinary magic of a ring, but something sharper. “I think we don’t know that sort of thing until we make a go of it.” She pitched her voice softly. “I did not know I’d manage with Bryn Glas. We’re doing well enough, though. Andnot all questions need answering immediately. The estate has been managed well, you have staff who know their roles. You will have some time to sort out the rest.”
“Not enough time.” Sigbert almost kept going, then he bit off whatever his comment would have been. “We had been working on a project. Grand-mère, Father, Childeric, and Uncle Dagobert, originally.” Not any of the women, other than his grandmother, and that was telling in some form Thessaly couldn’t fully analyse in the moment. There was also that ‘originally’ which matched up with what she’d guessed from Laudine and Dagobert. “I don’t know if I can continue it.”
“Is it the sort of thing that might sit for a season? Some projects are, and they are often the better for it.” It would not satisfy her, but it might give her more time to find out what the thing was, or get enough evidence for someone else to investigate it properly.
“It— no, I really can’t say more.” Sigbert ducked his chin. “Oaths.”
“Of course I won’t press you.” Her fingers shifted on his hand again, brushing the ring once more, and this time he looked up, meeting her eyes.
“The ring, it was Father’s. He gave it to Childeric, then he’d been wearing it again, before giving it to me.” He held it up, and it wasn’t nearly as decorative as Thessaly had expected. It had a plain band that looked like rose gold at first glance and was more likely copper, inlaid with blue and green stone. She wasn’t as good at Vitus as spotting stones on the fly, but she also suspected there was some illusion work at play, somehow.
“Does it help to wear it? I have found that wearing some of Aunt Metaia’s things has helped. Sometimes, mind, it’s a bit like hearing her scold me about something.”
That got Sigbert to manage a small smile. “Something like that. It is, I think, a reminder of my obligations. Of what I havedone, what I will do, and what that will mean for the family.” There was a new resolution in his voice, and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Thessaly. This has been a help. May I walk you back to the gatehouse and the portal? I should get back.”
Thessaly didn’t argue. She didn’t think she could press any part of this conversation further, not without making her interests obvious. Instead she nodded, murmured her condolences again, her willingness to arrive early for the funeral, or if there was any other small thing she might do. Sigbert escorted her back all the way to the portal, Emeline trailing behind, and promised to convey her condolences to his family properly.
It wasn’t until they were back inside at Bryn Glas that Thessaly turned to Emeline. “That was exceedingly odd.”
“In several ways.” Emeline did not favour many words when a few would do. Thessaly went upstairs to change, Emeline behind her to undo her buttons and help with the unlacing. It wasn’t until Thessaly was in one of Aunt Metaia’s tea gowns, this one in a soft purple, that Emeline said, “There is something wrong on that estate.”
“Yes, but I can’t name it or see it or, or anything with it. It’s like smoke. Illusions. Mist. No handles.” She considered. “That ring bothers me.”
“I didn’t hear what you said, but I gathered there was something on his hand. Perhaps Master Deschamps might have some thoughts?” Emeline offered it quickly enough.
“By which you mean it would do me good to talk to him about a range of other topics. It would.” Thessaly mentally sorted through his schedule. “I expect him tomorrow, but it’s still early enough he might be at his workshop. Could you get one of the footmen to take a message?”
Emeline nodded. Even better, she went and fetched the writing desk, so Thessaly could write a note without going back downstairs. She handed the note over and collapsed on the sofa to contemplate what came next.
32
FEBRUARY 15TH IN TRELLECH
It had been a frustrating fortnight, on every level except the professional. Vitus had seen Thessaly twice, but only once with any chance for conversation. The other had been at a distance at Lord Clovis Fortier’s funeral. Thessaly had been with the family, though this time, Emeline was right beside her.
Vitus had made his proper bow. After all, he’d been doing work for the estate, or for Lord Clovis— that point was actually murky. No one had turned him away, but it had been only the brief and expected expression of condolences. And the tossing of the bees into the grave. At least this time, Vitus was prepared for that. He was also still offended at the quality of the making, but he was also not in any position to comment on that to anyone who might improve it.
He’d heard nothing from the Fortiers after that. There had been only a brief note from Florent that any plans were on hold for the moment until Sigbert could make some decisions. Vitus had turned his attention to other projects. Now, the requests had tipped firmly in the direction of nightmares, even though the spring rains were approaching. He was almost out of good quality topaz, and much of his current stock of amethyst was not suited to pieces to be worn while sleeping. He still had plenty ofobsidian, but of course working on that was an entirely different sort of challenge. It didn’t take the usual methods of inscription well.
Saturday, he’d set most of that problem aside. Thessaly had obligations with her parents, apparently. He’d spent the afternoon in the workroom on a few other pieces, before grabbing supper and going on to a lecture. This one was not electricity, or at least not directly. Instead, it was about various magical theories related to healing. On his way in, he’d seen Cyrus Smythe-Clive and his sister, but they were rather surrounded by people, and Vitus didn’t go over. He had sat near the front, content to listen to the discussion.
When the lecture ended, Vitus was modestly enlightened, but it was the sort of thing where he now needed to track down someone with more expertise and ask them questions. Perhaps Andie Smythe-Clive could recommend someone, in due course. But when he looked for them, they were near the doors, still with people around. It was as if others felt some of Cyrus’s magic might rub off on them, or some of his prestige.
What he did see, unexpectedly, was Dagobert Fortier. As he had at other times since last summer, he was waiting for the rest of the audience to clear out. It let him take his time and move slowly with the cane, an awkward process with the fixed seats of the lecture hall. Vitus came up to the end of the row and nodded. The other man looked faded, still, and still moved tenuously, as if afraid of a fall or some weakness.
“Vitus.” Dagobert glanced around. “Were you waiting for me?”
“I wanted to offer my condolences, again, on your brother’s death. I hope you and Laudine are well? And your son?”
“Ah.” Dagobert paused. “I appreciate that. And the fact you’ll acknowledge me in public.” That was not what Vitus had expected. He would have thought the other way around. “Wouldyou be up for a drink? Not one of the clubs, the usual bar, near the portals?”
