Oliver arrived in a hired carriage just after lunch. He greeted Lily with badly concealed impatience, asking for Theo. There were dark shadows under his eyes.
“I haven’t spoken with him today. He’s probably still out on the patio. Have you slept at all, Oliver?”
“Not really. I must speak with Theo, Lily. Please.”
With a pang, she recalled Theo’s oddly slouched posture and wondered whether he still had a headache. Still, Oliver seemed to think it was important, so she led him toward the patio.
They met Anselm in the hallway. “Is Mr. Overton still outside?” Lily asked tentatively.
“Yes. Does Mr. Hathaway wish to speak to him?” Anselm looked between them.
“Yes, please.” Oliver answered hurriedly.
Anselm hesitated, then said, “Please wait in the study. I will let him know you are here.”
Oliver said, “I can come to him!”
Anselm shook his head. “Please wait in the study, Mr. Hathaway.” His voice had assumed the calm air of competency that encouraged even the highest-ranking noblemen to cooperate.
Oliver hurried away, and Lily followed in his wake. “Lily, I actually need to speak to Theo privately. I’m sorry.”
She blinked at him. “All right.” With a frown, she walked to the front parlor with her head held high. Yet another layer of disillusionment settled like gauze over her heart.
Why should Oliver be more interested in talking to Theo than to her, and indeed wish to leave her out completely? She would not have minded had it been a jaunty afternoon ride over the hills or a hunting trip with other young gentlemen. But to so blatantly ask her to leave, when she already felt so ill at ease!
Lily did not mean to be angry. She did not want to be angry. She stuffed down the feeling and focused on Araminta’s plight. Was there a way to help her from here?
Oliver paced anxiously in the study. It seemed to him to be suddenly small and close, the air stifling.
Theo entered with a murmured thanks to Anselm, who had apparently walked him to the very door of the room. The servant bowed and shut the door.
Oliver stared at Theo with wide, anguished eyes. “Did you see her?”
“No.” Theo crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, as lean and elegant as ever. “However, a trusted friend and ally saw her from a distance earlier in the day, and said she appeared to be fine. There were complications, and I was unable to reach her last night.”
“Complications?”
Theo nodded once, then decided it would be wiser to sit down on the chaise lounge before he fell over. He sat half turned so that he could see Oliver. He gestured toward the chair across from him, and Oliver sat, one leg bouncing a nervous rhythm.
“Are you all right? You look rather pale.” Oliver looked more closely at Theo.
“I have a bit of a headache,” Theo admitted quietly. “Don’t worry, Oliver. My friend will let me know if Lady Araminta’s situation becomes dire. In the meantime, please trust me.”
Oliver buried his face in his hands. “I am trying to, but I cannot think of anything but how frightened she must be, and how horrible Lord Willowvale is, and how I must do something immediately.” His voice cracked.
Theo sighed softly. His head ached dreadfully, and the pounding made it difficult to think. “I swore to you I would bring her back, and I will.”
“Can I help?” Oliver asked in a low voice. “Please tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”
Theo said, more sharply than he intended, “Don’t ever say those words, Oliver! Not to me, not to anyone, and especially not when a fairy might hear you.” Sudden nausea rose, and he closed his eyes and swallowed. “Go get some sleep, Oliver, if you can.”
Oliver shuddered and stared at him. “I can’t sleep, knowing she’s a prisoner of that horrible Willowvale.”
“Nevertheless, please try to trust me.” Theo held Oliver’s gaze until the other man nodded. Theo stood then. “I am sorry to be so rude, but my headache is actually rather vicious. I think I would like to lie down before the party tonight. Please do make yourself at home here, if you like. Just don’t tell Lily what we discussed.”
Recognizing the obvious dismissal, Oliver stood as well. “Thank you, Theo,” he said dully.
Anselm was waiting at the door and, after having been volunteered by Theo to provide Oliver a ride back to the Hathaway residence whenever he was ready to leave, followed Oliver and Theo back to where Lily was waiting.
“I thought we might walk in the garden a little,” said Lily hopefully.
“All right.” Oliver’s shoulders slumped.
Theo bowed solemnly to her and turned away without another word. She watched him go, trying not to feel hurt.
Oliver and Lily walked through the garden for some time without saying anything. The sun was still high overhead. After the darkness of the study, the brilliance was almost disorienting.
Lily finally said, “How did your talk with Theo go?”
“I… it doesn’t matter.” Oliver ran his hands through his already thoroughly disheveled hair. “I can’t stand it, Lily!” His voice broke. “I have to go to her.”
She brushed tears from her eyes. “What if Lord Willowvale catches you? Or someone worse?”
Oliver firmed his jaw and turned to her. “Then I will be brave. If the Wraith cannot save her, I must at least try. I would rather die trying to do what I know is right then stay here in safety, waiting for someone else to save the woman I love.”
He pleaded, “Please, Lily. Please help me get into the veil. I’ll do the rest.”
“What if you don’t come back?” she whispered, anguished.
“Then at least I tried!”
Lily was unable, despite her best efforts, to refuse her brother’s heart-rending plea. She trembled and shook her head, but it was futile.
“Please, Lily.”
“There’s magic here in the gardens, though I don’t understand it all.” She swallowed hard. “There’s probably an opening just over there, I think. It’s not open, though.”
Oliver pulled her in the direction she had indicated, and she followed reluctantly.
She stopped at the hedge, feeling the tingling edges of magic. The door was not open, but it was waiting for her, as if it knew she wanted it. She put her hand up to the leaves nervously, and the door opened as if eager to oblige her.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “I don’t like that it was so easy. I don’t like you going.”
Oliver nearly crushed her in a quick embrace. “Thank you, little sister. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“What if you’re not?” Her voice cracked.
Oliver said firmly, “Tell your husband. He might have a good idea or two. But don’t worry. I’ll back in a few hours, I hope. If not, well, I’ll face whatever comes bravely. Don’t tell Mother and Father until tomorrow, if I’m not back before then.”
“Do you have a weapon or anything?”
He indicated a dagger hidden in his jacket. “Don’t worry.” He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead, then stepped into the veil.
The door closed behind him before Lily was ready.
The afternoon grew warmer. Thin white clouds skidded by high above without providing much shade at all. At last a cool breeze danced through the leaves of the camellias and gardenias nearby, bringing sweet scents and a promise of rain that night.
Lily waited by the hedge, sitting on a bench just opposite the vanished door for hours. She lay on her back and looked at the sky, admiring the shades of blue as Theo had once described.
As he had told her in happier times.
Anselm eventually found her and said, “My lady, Mr. Overton asked if you would like to refresh yourself and have dinner before departing for the ball tonight.” He looked at her with concern, but did not inquire as to why she had been sitting, or lying, on the same stone bench for five hours now.
“Thank you.” She walked beside him back to the house.
“My lady, I never did take Mr. Hathaway back to his residence in the city. Where is he? I will have one of the stablemen take him.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Lily swallowed. “He left already.”
“Oh.” Anselm pondered this.
Lily bathed and dressed simply, then went upstairs to prepare for the ball. There was a tray with a lavish dinner waiting for her in the little sitting room, along with a vase of goldenrod, orange ranunculus, amaranthus, dark hellebore, and ivy. Before she ate or dressed, Lily got out her little book of flower meanings to try to interpret Theo’s message. Goldenrod was encouragement and healing. Ranunculus told her that she was charming and attractive. Amaranthus signified unfading love. Hellebore either referenced a scandal, or meant that Theo still held hope despite darkness. And ivy meant marriage, fidelity, friendship, or affection. Or all of them together.
This was the first bouquet that had, however indirectly, referenced what had happened between them. She almost found it encouraging, but for the firmly closed door to Theo’s side of the apartment.
Anselm entered with a bow, then let himself in to Theo’s side without knocking.
She ate alone, staring at the hellebores and wondering if their darker meaning was the only true message. Eleven times in that hour she got up to look out the window, hoping to see Oliver in the garden. She couldn’t quite see the right hedge from where she stood, but if he headed toward the manor he would be visible.
Her grief and disappointment rose in waves.
At last she left the tray and went to her room, where she sat at the lovely vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. She tried to apply the minimal makeup she wore, a little powder for her nose and rouge for her cheeks and lips, but the motions felt alien.
She felt tingly and sick with fear for Oliver, while grief for herself surged more deeply within her.
Through her closed sitting room door she heard the muffled sound of Anselm leaving Theo’s room and walking out to the shared space. Theo said something to him about the phaeton, and he replied, then his steps receded down the hall.
There was a knock on her sitting room door.