Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)(27)

Abi went bright red. She’d be working alongside him. It was a nightmare and a dream wrapped up in one thrilling but super-awkward parcel, bow-tied and with a gift tag saying ‘crush’. She saw Daisy snigger and sent her a ferocious glare.

Then Daisy’s assignment stole everyone’s attention away – Abi’s included.

Daisy would be child-minding a baby. A baby born to a girl who’d been a slave here on the estate. She had been inappropriately involved with his eldest brother, Jenner had explained, but had tragically died in an accident a few months ago.

They all had lots of questions, but it was clear Jenner didn’t want to talk about it. He said ‘That’s all I can tell you’ a bit crossly, and Abi mouthed ‘Shut up’ in Daisy’s direction.

Soon after, Heir Gavar had turned up. The expression on his face was furious, as if he’d come to accuse them of stealing something. He was even taller than his brothers and big, wide across the shoulders. The baby had looked very small, lying along the crook of his arm, but she was sleeping peacefully and Gavar held her so carefully you’d think she was a porcelain doll.

‘That’s the kid?’ he’d said to Jenner, pointing at Daisy. ‘You’re joking, right? She’s still a baby herself.’

‘Don’t start,’ Jenner said wearily. ‘You know how it’s got to be.’

The heir muttered something crude and Dad pushed his chair back as if he was going to tell him off for swearing, before thinking better of it. Poor Daisy looked like she might die of fright.

Gavar called her over with a curt ‘Come here’, but Daisy was too petrified to obey.

‘Go on,’ Mum had said, nudging her gently. ‘He’s not going to eat you.’

And Abi’s heart swelled with pride as her little sis did the bravest thing ever and walked over to stand in front of Gavar Jardine. He looked at Daisy like his eyes might burn holes in her.

‘This is my daughter, Libby,’ the heir said, angling his arm slightly. The baby was adorable, with round rosy cheeks, curling coppery hair and long dark lashes.

‘She is the most important thing in my life, and now she is the most important thing in yours. You must be with her at all times, and when I am at Kyneston I will come and find you every day. I’ll know where you are. You are to talk to her – proper talk, not stupid chatter. Play with her. Show her things. Her mother was an intelligent woman, and she is an intelligent child. You are to address her as “Miss Jardine” at all times. If any harm comes to her, you and your family will pay for it. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ said Daisy, nodding her head emphatically. Then, ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good,’ said Gavar.

He held out the baby.

In the weeks that followed, Daisy became more confident at handling her tiny charge. And Abi did a bit of sleuthing to find out more about Libby Jardine and her mother.

She discovered that one of the older kitchen-slaves had looked after the baby before the Hadleys arrived. She was a kindly sort, and proved talkative when Abi dropped by on the pretext of a pantry stocktake.

‘The bairn’s real name is “Liberty”,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Her mother chose it. She was a good girl, Leah was, and very much in love with Heir Gavar. But when she found out she was pregnant they had a falling out and he was cruel to her. So she called the little one that to have a dig at him, to rub it in that she was just a slave.

‘He wanted the mite to have some high and fancy name like they all do – an Amelia or Cecilia or Eustacia or some such – but his parents wouldn’t hear of it. They didn’t like “Liberty” either, of course. Lord Jardine said it was “in poor taste”. So it was Lady Thalia, bless her, who hit on the solution, and the little darling’s been Libby ever since.

‘They don’t regard her as one of them, you see. No Skill – though her mum was convinced she did have it. Poor girl. I think she was a bit crazy at the end. It’s impossible, of course; everyone knows that. That’s why Libby’s looked after by the likes of us, instead of up at the big house. But Heir Gavar loves her something fierce.’

And wasn’t that the truth.

None of them knew when Gavar might turn up to see his daughter. He would suddenly loom over them in the cottage kitchen, while Daisy was spooning mush into Libby’s sticky mouth and crooning nursery rhymes. Gazing out of Kyneston’s office window, Abi would often glimpse him striding towards the lake where Daisy had taken Libby to look at the ducks.

As she hurried through the service corridors one day, Abi heard Gavar roaring furiously about disrespect to his daughter. Fearing the worst, Abi diverted towards the formal front of the house ready to throw herself between him and Daisy. But as she opened the concealed door she saw a particularly snooty parlour-slave cowering against a tapestry, a pile of fresh linen crumpled at her feet. Gavar jabbed a meaty finger into the woman’s face. His other hand was protectively on Daisy’s shoulder, resting on the harness she used to carry Libby.

‘And apologize to Miss Hadley,’ Gavar snarled. ‘Even if you see her alone she will be going about the service of my child. You get out of her way, not the other way around. Now say it.’

‘I . . . I’m sorry, Miss Hadley,’ the maid stammered. ‘I won’t do it again.’

Gavar grunted, and Daisy tipped her head in acknowledgement like a diminutive queen. Astonished, Abi shut the door silently and returned about her errand.