When Flick placed her order at the family tailor for a gown, she had to shell out more than was necessary to keep the woman’s mouth shut about it. She didn’t need all of high society talking.
“My sweetie, it is no good to wander without a chaperone. Especially in this day and age,” the woman was saying, setting aside Flick’s fabric of choice. It was different from what she usually preferred, and it gave Flick a little thrill every time she thought of it. “You should have come with your mother last week!”
Flick bid her farewell and left before she could hear any more. Of course her mother was having a new wardrobe made for herself while Flick was out there worrying about a stake through the heart.
She sighed. Now she was just becoming bitter.
Flick stopped and doubled back, peering into the window of Hira House, one of the only Jeevani-owned dressmakers in White Roaring. The trio of mannequins on the dais inside the window was wrapped in colorful swaths of cloth, the ends of them elegantly draped over their right shoulders. Saris, Flick believed they were called. Behind the one in sapphire blue, a girl in a tailored suit was placing an order, baker boy hat pulled over her mauve hair.
The woman at the counter smiled, and Arthie, in proper Arthie fashion, didn’t smile back as she set her payment on the worn wood and made to leave. Flick hurried away, tucking into one of the alleys as Arthie leisurely made off in the opposite direction.
And Flick began her walk to Admiral Grove once more.
After what Lady Linden had done to her, she deserved to face the same consequence as the Ram: bombarded with questions about her actions.
Flick didn’t expect to return to the Linden Estate so soon, and she certainly didn’t expect to feel so indifferent about standing at her mother’s doorstep again. She was emboldened by the reminder that she wasn’t alone anymore.
She felt bad knowing Arthie and Jin had lost something dear to them while she was delighted at what she had gained: a family. As much a family as the Casimirs could be. One day she was an outsider, the next, she was simply included in every meeting, adding to every conversation, and joining every trip.
“Miss Felicity,” the maid said at the door, eyes wide as saucers. Flick said hello. Hushed voices sounded inside, and she heard the housekeeper’s snicker. “Lady Linden said I’m not to allow you inside again.”
She told herself not to be surprised, but it still hurt. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
The maid looked away. “No, it doesn’t. She did say that if you insisted, I could let you in, though I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that.”
Odd, Flick thought. She dropped her hand into her pocket for the comfort of her lighter before she remembered she’d left it on her mother’s desk.
She didn’t need it anymore, she told herself.
Pacify the people to keep them in check, and no one notices you furthering your own agenda.
Arthie’s words had been about the Ram, but they had made Flick scrutinize each of her mother’s actions in a new light. They had meals together so Lady Linden could monitor how much Flick ate, dress fittings together so Lady Linden could be in control of how Flick dressed. She appeased Flick by taking her on outings that were convenient, when she was heading out for something anyway. Even that very first time Flick had visited Spindrift—she now remembered they went because her mother was to have a meeting with someone, not because she had wanted to take Flick.
It was funny, Flick thought, how something utterly unrelated could uncover a side of her past that she had never noticed herself. Or perhaps it was because she had been removed from the confines of a life she had deemed normal that she could finally see it for what it truly was.
Her punishment hadn’t even been a punishment at all. It was what it always had been—Lady Linden doing what was best for her reputation, and in the case of Flick, it meant hiding her away.
“Well, I’ll only be in for a little while,” Flick said. “And I appreciate you telling me.”
The girl paused. “I’ve missed you, Miss Felicity. The house hasn’t been as warm without you.”
Flick didn’t feel so warm anymore. She was naive before, shielded and sheltered. Her mother had kept her in a cage, and Flick had extended her arms as far as she could every time she forged, until Jin had picked the lock and let her out.
Her mother was in her office again, and Flick knocked, because she wasn’t so angry this time. Lady Linden was at her desk. She contained her surprise quickly.
“Felicity. You have some nerve returning after the way you spoke to me.”
“I only spoke, Mother,” Flick said, which was the problem, she supposed. “I said nothing untoward, or even disrespectful.”
Her mother started reaching for the bell, and Flick had to bite her tongue against the panic that flared. She kept her voice calm, her words slow.
“Before you call to have me removed, you must know that all I wanted was to give you the front page again. This time, a praiseworthy one. I wanted to repair the damage you believed I’d done. I wanted your forgiveness so that you could love me again. I see now how foolish I’d been.”
Lady Linden had the decency to look away. She felt bad, Flick realized.
No, came Arthie’s voice in her head, look closely.
Flick did. Her mother’s shoulders were tight, rigid. She was unrelaxed, almost as if she was on guard. Almost … afraid of what Flick might do.
“Whatever you heard about the vampires, Felicity, you must know there’s more to that story,” her mother said, more tentative than sure of herself. She was testing the waters. Testing her.
It was a ploy. She was trying to get her to divulge what she knew. Flick wouldn’t fall for any of it. This was her mother. She knew exactly how to guide Flick in whichever direction she pleased like she was a puppet.
“And no, I’m not trying to get you to tell me what you saw or heard, I’m telling you that I was forced into dealings I’m not proud of.”
Her mother spoke as if she wasn’t Lady Linden herself, as if she had no sway or control over her actions.
“All this distance between us?” her mother continued. “It’s because I was busy trying to make things right, trying to repair the extensive damage that was done to our company.”
But they’d begun drifting apart years ago. Flick started to say as much, to counter her, but then she realized that her mother was right. The distance between them had only worsened recently, and it was simply chance that it coincided with the signet ring scandal. It had nothing to do with what Flick had done.
Her mother’s hard mask fractured before she pulled it back on again, and in those seconds, Flick saw penitence. Flick understood it deeply, and that almost made her feel bad.
“The Ram used me,” her mother whispered, “and it took you away from me.”
That was true remorse. It made Flick waver. When Lady Linden looked up, her bright blue eyes were wet with unshed tears. She gave Flick a smile, and it reminded her of when they’d have tea and biscuits in the nook by the window. It reminded her of their walks in the garden.
Flick swallowed, suddenly wishing she hadn’t come.
She looked at the envelope in her hand for a moment before she held it out. “Here.”
“What is this?” Lady Linden asked.
It was the address to the Athereum’s meeting hall, along with a date and time.
“The coveted front page,” Flick said. “A way to make things right.”
Flick had begun to question herself from the moment the Linden Estate door had closed behind her. Now, back at the Athereum, as she arranged her hair and swiped perfume at her neck, a little bit of sunshine to carry her through the long night ahead, worry wrapped around her shoulders like a coat.
It was the right thing to do, she told herself.
She pulled the gown over her shoulders, with all its folds and layers still weighing lighter than her heart, and soon realized she had never dressed herself for an event before. And after a good deal of time spent trying to tug the laces on her own, she gave up.
She needed help, and the vampires of the Athereum were the last people she’d go to. Flick snatched up her satin gloves and, holding the dress against her chest, she opened the door to find Arthie just about to knock.
Flick almost didn’t recognize her.
Arthie Casimir was wearing a dress. The simplest way to describe her wrapped in a length of scarlet was regal. Beautiful. She wore a sari made of yards of silk edged in gunmetal silver, wound around and around, covering every inch of her skin except for the sharp contrast of her collarbone and the bold hue of her blouse until it came to a brazen drape over her shoulder. She wore no baker boy cap. Her mauve hair had been teased into voluminous curls framing the dark depths of her eyes.
No, beautiful wasn’t quite the word to describe her allure. She was cutthroat and deadly, the way a rose appeared entirely different when you saw its thorns.
“I was hoping to find you,” Flick said breathlessly as Arthie came inside. The hush hush of the fabric echoed her steps. “Can you help me with these laces? In hindsight, I should have thought twice before ordering a dress I couldn’t wear on my own, now that I don’t have maids.”
Flick turned without waiting for Arthie’s answer, and it was easier to breathe without the weight of the other girl’s gaze on her.
“Thank you,” Flick said.
“Did everything go as planned?” Arthie asked, tugging and knotting with deft fingers.
Flick nodded. “I handed her the envelope. I just wish … I don’t know.”
“But you do know. Did you speak to her, as I said you should?”
“Yes,” Flick said, and as grateful as she was to Arthie for telling her to prod and pry and pay attention to her mother’s manipulations, she was still disappointed by it all. A part of her wanted to return to being oblivious. “I think I did better today than I did the first time. Before we lost Spindrift. And I—”
“Don’t ramble,” Arthie said, watching her.
Flick sighed.
“She truly did sound remorseful,” she tried to reason.
“Did she really though? You’re lost, Felicity,” Arthie said gently, adjusting Flick’s curls with a tender hand. “And no one can find your way but yourself.”