The Lion Lies Waiting Page 27

  “When do you plan to do all this?”

  “As soon as is humanly possible, Mrs. Knight,” Lady Eva replied as she tied the mask to her face and boarded a carriage. “As soon as is humanly possible.”

  THE CAVE-LIKE COUNCIL chamber was eerily silent. Agatha Samble sat at the polished oval table with her hands crossed, her Rabbit mask weighing unusually heavy on her face as she replayed the past few days in her mind. The past few years, actually. She’d come from humble beginnings, as all Rabbits had done before her. A life without privilege brought with it a worldview which was vital yet easily overlooked by the ruling elite. She’d been born in the hamlet of Little Acorn and selected as head of the council ten years prior. Ten years of battling with wealthy men and women, trying to show them the world beyond their manor houses and companies. And while she’d been trying so hard to make them see more clearly, she’d entirely missed Baxbary’s machinations.

  Magpie was picking lint from her shoulder and Badger, having overindulged at Marley Chase’s funeral the day before, held his head in his hands. None of them were looking forward to what was about to happen.

  The doors to the council chamber were suddenly flung open with a booming echo as Lady Eva Wolfe-Chase strode in, her travelling cape flowing behind her. Beneath the exquisite Swan mask, she wore a smile of barely contained glee. The moment the councillors had dreaded for a very long time was upon them.

  Lady Eva hung her cloak up and took her seat at the great walnut table. Opposite her was an empty chair and on the table rested the remains of the Fox mask, hastily gathered from where it had fallen. The silence was deafening.

  “Well now, the last time I was here I was told in no uncertain terms I was not to get my own way. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?” Lady Eva said.

  “I hope you don’t think you’re going to just swan in here—no pun intended—and throw your weight around,” Magpie said, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

  “Oh, my dear Ms. Bezzle, don’t try to be clever, you’ll do yourself an injury,” Lady Eva replied.

  “You shouldn’t even be wearing that mask!” Magpie screeched. “We haven’t had the ceremony yet. I know your father officially nominated you, but as a newcomer, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the etiquette. I can assure you—”

  “Shut up, dear,” Lady Eva interrupted. “Your little beau is in prison and your plot lies in tatters. Frankly, I’m amazed they let you back in here at all.”

  Agatha wasn’t sure which part she was most surprised by. Fox and Magpie often conspired together, supporting each other in voting on council business but neither had shown the slightest romantic affection toward one another.

  “Surely you didn’t seriously think I believed Father invited the entire council for dinner but only you and Baxbary happened to show up?” Eva continued. “She has been working with Baxbary the entire time. Hiding in plain sight, as it were. Did you all not see the look on her face the night of the explosion? No? The look was unmistakably one of a woman betrayed. Once the people of Gull’s Reach rose up against the rest of you, she was meant to take her place by Baxbary’s side.”

  Lady Eva stood, presumably for dramatic emphasis.

  “It must have been quite the shock when you realised you were meant to be on the stage when it exploded,” she said, standing behind Magpie’s chair and laying her hands upon it. “As if Baxbary would ever be happy sharing power. He used you, you dreary little fool. I expect you had a hand in bringing in the weapons he used in the uprising, hmm? Bought them in at a good rate, did you? Get yourself a nice little bargain?”

  She continued her tour around the grand table.

  “Honestly, between you and Sylvia Farriner allowing yourselves to be manipulated by that man, you’ve both let the side down. Now, of course, I cannot actually prove you were involved, so you won’t go to prison, but I doubt the people of the town will be too concerned about the legalities of proof, nor will they forgive you, or overlook your part in the scheme. And without their support, indeed with their active enmity, I think you will find life in Port Knot a great deal more difficult than you have been used to.”

  “The people won’t believe you,” Magpie said, her confidence faltering.

  “Won’t they? You overplayed your hand. Your closeness to Baxbary is a little too well-known, it won’t take much to convince them you were prepared to incite a riot for your own ends. I wonder if the version of the plan Baxbary sold you on involved a sham trial of the other council members once he’d seized power? It sounds like something he’d do. Maybe he’d even bring back hanging? A flamboyant, frightening display to keep the populace in line, to set an example. Did you picture yourself sitting beside him, watching the councillors swing? Well, no matter. It came to nothing. I think it might be best for everyone if you announce you are stepping down as Magpie, maybe retire to the countryside. A nice, quiet place. Far away. Perhaps a small cottage on the moors? Oh, but before you do, you are going to return the money you and Baxbary stole from the council.”

  “How did—” Magpie started, before apparently realising what she’d admitted.

  “I didn’t, but I guessed. There’s usually money involved where greedy, unscrupulous people like you are concerned. The gunpowder, the rifles, presumably bribes to officials to look the other way? None of it comes cheap and I doubt either of you wanted to spend your own money. Simple deduction, my dear.”

  Loveday Bezzle said nothing in return. She simply stood up, untied the silk ribbons at the back of her head and gently placed the Magpie mask on the table. Without a word, she walked out through the chamber doors.

  “And what about the people of Gull’s Reach?” Agatha said. “They were prepared to take up arms against us.”

  Lady Eva returned to her own seat.

  “You are going to tell them what Baxbary was up to, and you are going to state you have realised the enormous failures of this council. You are going to announce an immediate program of rebuilding and the houses you build for the Stormlost will be better than before. You are going to pledge money for the regeneration of Gull’s Reach—the buildings, the roads, the arcades, all of it. You are going to swear a place like the Roost will never be needed again. And what’s more, you are going to say it all in front of the people of the town.”

  Pledges made before the community were binding. Such was the law of the islands.

  “And where are we supposed to get the money for this grand endeavour?” Badger asked, gruffly.

  “You will use the money Baxbary Mudge and Loveday Bezzle had squirrelled away from council funds to pay for their endeavour. And, if need be, the shortfall will come out of your pockets. And mine.”

  Agatha and Badger exchanged concerned glances.

  “You have harmed those people,” Eva said, her voice losing whatever playfulness it previously had. “Physically and mentally. Damage that will linger for generations. You are part of a community, and a community, like a family, is supposed to take care of its own. You have a lot of trust to rebuild and I suggest you focus all your attention on it.”

  “It’s a lot to ask,” Agatha said, beginning to question the wisdom in insisting Marley Chase appoint Lady Eva as his successor. “Why are you offering to pay for the rebuilding?”

  “My family has taken a lot from the people of this island. It is high time to give something back. But don’t be distracted, the money will come from the council first. I have the very best accountants at my disposal, and as of this morning, each one of them is now on the Swan committee. A position for life, let’s not forget. They will be keeping a close eye on you for me. I’ll be sending people in to overhaul the prison. I had no idea of the squalid conditions people were being kept in.”

  “And why, exactly, should we do any of this? In case you’ve forgotten, you’re Swan, not Rabbit. You’re not in charge here. I am.”

  “How about this: you do everything I have suggested, and in return, I shall resign.”

  “What!” B
adger exclaimed. “A Chase give up power! Hardly.”

  “My family has had entirely too much to say about how life on this island should be run and it is time that ended. And you forget—I’m a Wolfe-Chase now. We’re new,” she said with a mischievous grin. “I will step down, I won’t even appoint a replacement, nor will I influence the election of same. You will never have to deal with me in these chambers again. That has got to be worth it, no?” Eva said.

  Agatha glared at her. With one conversation she’d ensured a seismic change in Port Knot.

  “Deal.”

  “Splendid.”

  Lady Eva rose from her chair and tied her cloak around her neck. Then she removed the Swan mask and set in on the table. With a swish of silk and a rustle of linen filling the chamber, she was gone.

  “I suppose this is as good a time as any to make my announcement,” Badger said.

  “Oh, please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Horace,” Agatha said as her stomach lurched.

  “I made up my mind when Marley fell ill,” Badger continued. “I knew I wasn’t going to work with Lady Eva, I haven’t the energy for it. And I certainly don’t want to be here when you’re trying to find a replacement Swan. Or a new Fox, for that matter. I can’t imagine Baxbary even thought about naming a successor. I nearly died in that explosion, Agatha. I have a granddaughter I’ve never even met. And I’m just so wretchedly tired.”

  His stubby fingers worked at the knot of his mask and he lay it on the table.

  “You’ll have my nomination for replacement in the New Year. I’m sure you can manage until then.”

  When he was gone, Agatha sat alone in the cavernous room. She sighed heavily, as if she’d been holding her breath for days. Four empty chairs. Four unworn masks. Lady Eva’s short career would be one long remembered.

  AT THE BAR of the Lion Lies Waiting, Robin and Edwin sat talking. Edwin had ordered a whiskey for Robin and tea for himself.

  “No cider?” Robin asked.

  “Ah, no. I think after the past few days, it’s probably best if I stay away from drink as much as I can.”

  Edwin was trying to wrap his head around the events of the past few days.

  “Have you thought about what you’re goin’ to do?” Robin asked.

  “You mean am I going to stay here?”

  Robin nodded.

  “I don’t know. I think I have to,” Edwin said, sitting back and rubbing his hands over the back of his head. “At least for the time being, for her trial. If Eva’s solicitor can convince the magistrates Mum wasn’t of sound mind, that Baxbary Mudge was manipulating her, taking advantage, maybe they’ll let her off, release her into my care.”

  “An’ then?”

  “And then I don’t know. I’ll stay here, I suppose. Indefinitely.”

  “But you don’t want to,” Robin said.

  “Of course I don’t want to, but what choice do I have? I can’t just walk away. You were right, what you said about helping her. If I was as sick as she is, as lost, I’d want her to help me. It’s the right thing to do. No matter what she’s done, I can’t just leave her.”

  “She could go back to Heron-on-the-Weir and live with ’er sister. I could pay for someone to look after ’er. A nurse. To live there with ’er. You could visit whenever you wanted,” Robin said.

  “How long for? Months? Years? You’re not that well off, Robin. Anyway, I don’t know if her sister would agree. It wouldn’t be fair on her, she’s getting on in years, too. I know you’re trying to help and I do appreciate it. I’m not trying to push you away again, I swear.”

  He leaned in and they sat there with foreheads touching.

  “I know,” Robin said, “but it feels like you’re lookin’ for the way that makes you the most miserable.”

  “Well,” Eva said from the doorway, “it wouldn’t be like our Edwin to punish himself, now would it?”

  She floated in on a cloud of silk and fur—a rare, exotic creature in a dowdy, mundane place.

  “This is your penance, isn’t it, darling? You didn’t realise how ill your mother was, or what she was doing to your brother, because you were so wrapped up in your own cider-soaked little world, and now you think you have to pay for it.”

  “Eva…” Edwin said wearily.

  “Oh, you don’t agree? Fine then, I’ll stop. As soon as you tell me I’m wrong. No? Nothing? Well, then, I’ll continue. I swear, never leave these kinds of things of men. You are all much too emotional.”

  She ducked under the archway in the centre of the room and settled into a high-backed chair facing them. With one single motion, she flicked the material of her dress with elegant fingers, ensuring each fold was perfect. Every eye in the room was on her, just the way she liked it.

  “Rabbit and I have both spoken to the magistrates and your mother will be released this very evening, at which point she will be admitted to the Wolfe-Chase Asylum.”

  Edwin’s mouth was agape. “The what asylum? I’ve never heard anything about a…wait. You’re making your family home an asylum? No, Eva, no, I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “Oh, Mr. Farriner,” she laughed, placing one hand on his knee, “I do love you dearly, but I’m not doing it just for you. There are lots of people who need specialised care and there is a whole facility set up at the manor which isn’t being used anymore, staff who will lose their jobs without patients to look after. She will be given the best care imaginable. There’s a small cottage on the grounds, it used to belong to the groundskeeper but hasn’t been used in years. It will be yours and Mr. Shipp’s home away from home whenever you need it. You won’t be here all of the time, so it might not satisfy your need for self-flagellation, but it should be enough to assuage any guilt you have at leaving her side.”

  “But if I stay, I can be near our child…”

  “Actually, Iris and I have decided remain in Blashy Cove. The lodge may not be as grand as the manor house and it may not even have its own lake,” she said with a sly smile, “but the village has been good to us, and it has forged some of the best people one could ever hope to meet. I think it a very fine place to raise a child.”

  She beamed warmly at both of them. Robin’s eyes were getting damp.

  “Eva. This is too much,” Edwin protested.

  “Nonsense, it’s just enough for the father of my child, and since I’ll be investing in the Farriner bakery business, I need to make sure the family—my family—are well looked after.”

  “Wait, you’re investing in what?” Edwin asked, perplexed.

  “Myself and Hester spoke about it earlier. Lovely woman, and quite wasted in her current position at Clementine’s tearoom. I suggested she open her own bakery here in Port Knot and she thought it was a wonderful idea. She could even apprentice her boys. You will help her, of course, Edwin. The family recipes and such. Think of it, a second Farriner’s Bakery! I’m sure your brother would be pleased.”

  “I didn’t know anything about this,” Edwin said.

  “There is no reason you should. You don’t have to be part of every decision, Edwin. Hester is a perfectly capable woman, and a Farriner too.”

  There was nothing Edwin could say, and so he didn’t. He just hugged her. For entirely too long.

  WHEN EVENING CAME, Edwin went to the prison to explain to his mother what was going to happen. Eva had used her connections to arrange for Sylvia to be transferred to the asylum instead of facing a criminal trial. She said it was a chance to prove to the council—and to the people—that the asylum was a good and worthy idea.

  A luxurious Chase Trading Company carriage arrived through the prison gates, its polished black veneer reflecting the snow-capped pebbles of the yard. A single guard would accompany his mother on her journey to the manor-turned-asylum and Edwin would be allowed to travel with them.

  Since her confrontation with Baxbary Mudge, a change had come over his mother. She had withdrawn into herself. She took a lock of her ginger hair and chewed on it, remain
ing silent for the entire journey. Her grasp on the world had slipped, he thought. Her eyes had become ever more distant. He thought she looked like a young girl with an old woman’s face. He pondered whether or not to tell her the plans for Hester’s bakery, or how he was intending to father a child. In the end, he decided against both. There was no sense in giving her new targets for her bile. He may bring his child to see her one day, but it wasn’t a decision to be made lightly.

  A nurse showed them to what would become her room. It was the first to be occupied and Edwin thought it spacious and comfortable, with a large sash window and a view of the hedge maze. A simple bed had been brought in from the servant’s quarters, with fresh linens laid upon it.

  “This is nice, isn’t it, Mum? A nice place to stay,” Edwin said as he sat beside her on the little bed.

  She continued to frown and bite her fingernails. Then she looked at him. Into him.

  “I envy those who can move through this life with clear eyes,” she whispered. “Mine have always been clouded. The way has never been certain for me. What Hester said, about Ambrose, it isn’t true, is it? It can’t be true. Have I done great harm, Edwin? Please. Please tell me I haven’t. I don’t think I could bear if it I had.”

  She began to cry in a way Edwin had never seen before. She was so still, and there were no hysterics, no exaggerations. It wasn’t a ploy, it wasn’t for attention or pity. It wasn’t the scheming of a mean-spirited woman. It was just his elderly mother. And she was crying.

  “No, Mum,” he lied, putting his arm across her frail shoulders and sniffing away his own tears. “You haven’t. You’ve been ill. You’ve…you’ve always been ill. But there are people here who can help you now. They can help you. They will help you.”

  From his pocket he produced her painted diptych which he opened, admiring again the surprising skill and delicacy of his mother’s brush strokes. He set it on the little table beside her bed and she smiled serenely at it.