Chapter Thirty-Five

It had already been a day since Eliot had left with the cat, and Marcelin wondered how long before Climence realised they were not in the house. Her mother hadn’t even noticed that the harp was no longer in the drawing room.

Marcelin adjusted her shawl even though the late summer’s day was another warm one and stepped out of the garden room to join Lina and Minette by the lake. If she remembered correctly, Jack would finally be leaving them late that day. Her brow puckered slightly, annoyed at Garlon’s delay in arranging for his men to take Jack.

About to step off the path and onto the grass, Marcelin slowed down, having caught sight of one of the men, Nicholas, running towards her.

“My lady. Lady Marcelin. I beg your pardon, my lady. Master Perrin told me to find you–”

“What’s happened? Tell me, quickly.” Marcelin glanced at the house, hoping her mother wasn’t anywhere near.

“It’s Jack, my lady. We caught him, he was trying to run. He’s been begging us to let him go. He wants to talk to you, my lady, pleading with Master Perrin, he is. It’s a pitiful sight.”

Marcelin looked over to the girls, on the other side of the lake. Thankfully, they seemed to be deep in conversation. “Take me to him.” She motioned Nicholas to lead the way.

She followed him to the storage barn, next to the stables. As she stepped in, Perrin came to meet her.

“Lady Marcelin, forgive me for disturbing–”

“No, no, Perrin, I’m glad you did. Does Mother know about this?”

“I don’t think so, my lady.”

“Nicholas said Jack tried to run.”

“He doesn’t want to return to Lord Garlon, he said his punishment would be most severe. Then he asked to speak with you.”

Marcelin frowned, wondering why Jack wanted to speak with her. Surely, he didn’t think she held any sway over Garlon. “Perrin, I think it best you return to the house, before Mother wonders where you are.”

“But my lady–”

“I will be fine. Nicholas is here.”

“That I am, my lady.”

Reluctantly, Perrin bowed and left.

Nicholas took Marcelin to Jack who was near the back of the barn. “Here’s Lady Marcelin. You best behave, you hear me?”

Marcelin’s hand strayed to her throat.

Jack, dishevelled, cowered in the corner, hugging himself. He fixed her with a wide-eyed stare. “My lady, please help me.” His voice came out in a rasping whisper.

“Help you, how?”

“Don’t let him take me.” On his knees before her, he clasped his hands together. “Don’t let Garlon have me, he’ll kill me, I know he will.”

“Why would he kill you? I think you’re being overdramatic–”

“No! No, you don’t understand. I made a mistake before, listened at the door when I shouldn’t have. He beat me. He only stopped because that man told him to. Please, my lady, please.”

To Marcelin’s consternation, and Nicholas’ obvious discomfort, Jack began to sob.

“I can’t let you go, Jack,” she said.

He didn’t look up.

Biting her lip, she wracked her brain for a solution. She knew Garlon had a cruel streak and, while she didn’t believe he’d kill Jack for his transgression, she didn’t doubt Garlon would, most likely, beat Jack senseless. And her conscience wouldn’t allow her to knowingly send him to such a fate. “Listen. Jack, listen to me. I’ll help you, but you must promise not to try and run. Or I will tell Garlon where you are.”

Stepping away from him, Marcelin motioned Nicholas to follow. “Ready the wagon, hide Jack in it, and take him to Granville, to Lord Quintrell. I’ll write a letter explaining why. If Lord Quintrell isn’t there, hand the letter to Madam Quintrell. But wait until I send word when it’s safe for you to leave.”

Marcelin sat with Lina and Minette in the morning room, supervising their embroidery. She’d said nothing about Jack to Lina and had managed to avoid Climence for most of the morning. The older woman had found the girls’ constant chatter trying, so Marcelin had gladly taken them to the morning room, leaving her mother to lounge in the drawing room alone.

As she gazed out the window, her thoughts wandered to Eliot, wondering how close he was to Cloud Mountain. Knowing Bertran had sent a trusted man to travel with him did little to ease her anxiety.

“Are you thinking of Eliot?”

Marcelin raised her brows and smiled at Lina. “Is it so obvious? Yes, dear, I am.”

“I think about him all the time.” Lina’s gaze dropped to her embroidery in her lap. “Is he unharmed? When he arrives at the tall-folk’s home, will he be captured? Punished?”

“Lina, don’t–”

“I know you’re worried,” said Marcelin, interrupting Minette’s concerned interjection. “But you must trust me when I say I believe Eliot will not be harmed.”

“How can you be so sure? I don’t understand.” Lina’s mouth remained downturned as she shifted in her chair.

“First, he isn’t travelling alone, Uncle Bertran has sent a man he trusts to accompany your brother. When he arrives at the tall-folk’s home, he is fully capable of explaining the situation. And he is returning the tall-folk’s belongings, especially the cat. When the tall-folk sees how comfortable the cat is with Eliot, surely that will prove to them, beyond a doubt, that Eliot’s intentions are true.”

Lina’s posture slumped, her brow still wrinkled but she nodded, albeit reluctantly.

Minette was the one who broke the silence. “I can’t believe Madam Climence hasn’t asked about Eliot. Not even when he didn’t join us for breakfast.”

“I’m sure she thinks he’s at Granville,” said Marcelin. “And I’m glad for that. Though she’ll know soon enough, when she wants the cat.”

Lina straightened. “Was that a knock at the door?”

Marcelin steeled herself.

After a pause, Perrin knocked on the door to the morning room. “My lady, they have come for him.”

“Thank you, Perrin.” She got to her feet. “I’ll tell Mother.”

“Do you require my presence, my lady?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “Tell the men to wait, I’ll speak to them presently.”

“What’s wrong, Mama? You look uneasy.”

Marcelin faced Lina and Minette. “I want you both to stay here. I’m about to have an argument with Mother. Jack isn’t here.”

“What?” Lina shot to her feet, her embroidery on the floor.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” She patted her daughter’s cheek. “I know where he is, and I’ll explain later.”

Squaring her shoulders, Marcelin went to the drawing room. “Mother–”

“Oh.” Climence sat up, clearly confused. “I thought, where’s Perrin? Who was at the door? Is it Garlon’s men for that ungrateful boy?”

“Yes.” Marcelin remained by the door. “I wanted to tell you first before I send them on their way. Jack isn’t here.”

“What?” Climence struggled to her feet. “Where is he? Has he run away? Tell Perrin–”

“No. He hasn’t run anywhere. I’ve sent him somewhere else for his own safety.”

Climence fixed her with an icy stare. “You sent him? Without a word to me?”

“Yes, I sent him. He’s terrified of what Garlon might do to him, he asked for my help.”

“After what he tried to do to Lina, you helped him?” Climence’s stiff posture spoke of her rising temper.

“This has nothing to do with Lina. Jack must answer for stealing from the tall-folk, and that won’t happen if Garlon is going to beat him to within an inch of his life. If you’ll excuse me, I need to tell Garlon’s men they’ll be returning empty-handed.”

“No, I don’t excuse you.”

“There’s no need to shout, Mother. And I’ll return after I speak to them. There’s something else you need to be told.” Turning her back on the spluttering woman, Marcelin walked out.

After she gave the message to Garlon’s men to tell him Jack was no longer his concern as he would not be returning, Marcelin realised the dread she’d been feeling about speaking to her mother had dissipated. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, knowing Climence no longer had any power over her.

Lina peered out of the morning room, her expression anxious. Marcelin reassured her daughter she’d be with her shortly.

She stepped into the drawing room, quietly closing the door behind her, to see her mother in the process of striding away.

Climence turned and abruptly stopped. Her mouth set in a hard line, she glared at Marcelin. “How dare you?” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “How dare you openly defy me in my house? Make decisions without first discussing it with me?”

Marcelin clenched her jaw to stop her angry retort. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she said, “I did what I believe to be right. Before you continue to reprimand me, let me tell you what you have failed to notice. Eliot is not here. Neither are the cat, the harp, and the dagger. He’s on his way to Cloud Mountain to return them to their rightful owner.”

Climence, visibly trembling, drew her lips back, baring her teeth. “Th-that boy, he dare–”

“I told him to. Whatever plans you and Garlon have, I won’t let you jeopardise my family. And I won’t let you manipulate innocent tall-folk for the sake of your hatred towards their kind.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” Climence marched up to her. “This is nothing to do with you. When I tell Garlon, he’ll be furious.”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have done this in the first place. Stealing, Mother. What would Grandfather think?”

“Don’t you bring him into this. You, who manipulated him, used his love for you to make him agree to your marriage to that, that half–”

“I did no such thing. Grandfather liked Ruvane.”

“If he’d known the truth, he wouldn’t have agreed.”

Marcelin held her arms tight against her body. “He didn’t have the same prejudices you have. He knowingly did business with tall-folk and spoke well of them.”

Climence glared at her. “You’ll have to tell Garlon the cat is no longer here.”

“No. I want nothing more to do with that man or his pale friend. Yes, I know about him and his visit. You should check more carefully if want to keep your visitors secret; Eliot saw him and overheard your discussion.”

Neither spoke for long moments.

“I had no idea you knew that pale man from so many years ago,” said Marcelin, frowning. “That you gave him money.” She paused. “What was that plan you hatched together?”

“It is none of your concern. It is no one’s concern, and I don’t care to be repeatedly asked about it. When that boy returns, I want him out of my house. I won’t have him spying on me. As for you, let me remind you, while you are in my house, you will do as you’re told–”

“You’re forever reminding me, reminding us that this is your house. I’m tired, Mother, tired of the constant reminders, tired of being spoken to as if I’m a small child, tired of seeing my children, my son being treated like he’s less than nothing. It would seem your house is more important than any of us. Keep it then, and I hope it brings you some kind of happiness.” Marcelin turned to leave.

“What nonsense. What are you saying? Marcelin. I’m talking to you. Don’t walk away from me. Marcelin!”

Marcelin shut the door behind her, went to the morning room, and told the girls to follow her to her chambers.

Climence stormed out of the drawing room. “How dare you walk away while I’m still speaking?”

Marcelin motioned the wide-eyed girls to continue up the stairs. Only then did she turn to the older woman, hardening her heart as she did so. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but.” Briefly closing her eyes, she took a shaky breath. “I’m leaving. I was going to wait until Eliot returned, but I don’t see the point. I’m not waiting until something happens, until Garlon and his pale friend entangle us is something unspeakable.

“There was a time, not so long ago, that I believed I’d never be able to leave you. I am your daughter, yes, but I’m also a mother and there’s only so much a mother can take, seeing my own child constantly treated so badly simply because you hate tall-folk. I will no longer subject Eliot to your spite. I’m taking Lina, and we’re going to live with Uncle Leighton.”

Not waiting for Climence to answer, blinking back tears she didn’t want her mother to see, Marcelin quickly followed the girls to her chambers.