Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)(63)

But Bouda Matravers’ Skill was already inside Abi’s skull. The Equal rammed it in like a poker and was rolling it around, burning away the memory of what had just taken place in the Great Solar, then cauterizing the loss. The shock made Abi’s head recoil with such force that she bit her tongue, and her scream bubbled through the blood filling her mouth. Dark clots swam before her eyes.

Then it was over and she was sitting in the armchair with Jenner and Lady Thalia watching her with concern. She blinked: once, twice. Her eyes stung – had she been crying?

Abi tried to stand up, but her legs trembled. She reached out to clutch at Jenner’s arm and steady herself. But he lightly unpeeled each finger and transferred her hand from his sleeve to the claret upholstery of the chair. Though gentle, his action felt unmistakably like repudiation, and Abi felt the skin around her eyes prickle with shame. Her head ached terribly. The smell of alcohol hung on the air.

She looked around the room – they were in the Great Solar – but could see nothing out of place. The door was shut, the furniture neatly in position. The only items to catch her eye were an empty bottle propped against the chimney breast and the framed photograph which Lady Thalia held. Abi’s notebook and a pencil were set neatly on the floor. The objects didn’t add up to a coherent memory.

What had she done? Had she got drunk? Made a fool of herself? The idea was unbearable. She wouldn’t be allowed to work with Jenner any more. Maybe they’d even send her away to Millmoor.

At the thought of the slavetown a final spasm of agony jolted through her brain and she gasped.

‘What happened?’ Abi asked, looking between Jenner and his mother. ‘I don’t remember. I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t done anything wrong?’

Mother and son exchanged glances. Abi felt her insides clench, like a wave of nausea when there’s nothing left to bring up.

‘Of course you haven’t, child,’ said Lady Thalia, placing the photograph back amid the Meissen figurines and jewelled gewgaws. She put her hand up to Abi’s face. Her fingers were cool against Abi’s cheek and her perfume was faint and floral.

‘You were here taking notes about my son’s wedding plans. But you must have caught your foot on the fender rail or these wonky old floorboards of ours, because you took a bad tumble and banged your head. You gave us quite a fright. But you’re all right now.’

‘I still feel a bit funny,’ Abi admitted. ‘I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you?’

She looked anxiously at Jenner. His expression was miserable.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Lady Thalia, with a glossy smile. And Abi sensed that beneath the show of concern, she was being dismissed. ‘Gavar had to head off on parliamentary business in any event. I think it would be best if you went back to your parents and had an early night. Jenner will see you home.’

Under other circumstances, Abi would have been delighted to have Jenner’s company for the long walk to the cottages where the slave families lived. But this evening he didn’t say a word. He just dug his chin into his scarf and his hands into his pockets as they headed towards the Row, keeping always several paces in front of her. Abi had the sense of being in disgrace, though for what offence, she had no idea.

The night was cold and clear, the sky more star than dark, and their breath plumed as they walked. Abi felt her temples gingerly. She couldn’t work out exactly where she’d hit her head. Perhaps Lady Thalia had healed her, she thought. Just not very well. Kyneston’s mistress was only weakly Skilled, though she was a dab hand at repairing things broken by her eldest son in one of his rages.

At that thought, a fresh surge of pain seared the inside of her skull and Abi moaned, stopping where she stood. That made Jenner turn around, and when he saw her he immediately came back.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

And Abi couldn’t help herself. He was right there next to her, so concerned. And it was such an innocent thing to do. She reached for him again.

But he stepped away. His movement was deliberate, and it wasn’t done beneath the hawk eyes of his family. Abi ached with disappointment.

Jenner held his hands out as she’d seen him do to his gelding Conker, when the horse went skittish.

‘Abigail,’ he said soothingly. The assumption that he could calm her like an animal drove a spike of fury through her distress. ‘Please stop this. You’re a lovely girl. We make a great working team. But I think you’re getting muddled up. I’ve seen it happen before, with other girls here. Though I can’t say it’s ever happened to me.’

He gave a self-deprecating laugh, and even as Abi felt her every nerve ending tingle with shame she wanted to slap him for having such a poor opinion of himself. He was the best of them all. The only truly good and kind one.

‘You’re a slave,’ Jenner continued. ‘I’m an Equal. Wouldn’t you rather have a quick ten years in the office than be banished to the kitchen or the laundry, or sent to Millmoor, because one of my family thinks your behaviour isn’t appropriate?’

Was it possible to die of mortification? Abi thought it quite possibly was. She’d be a first in medical literature. They could cut her up and study her, the pathologists’ metal hooks pulling out first her overlarge brain and then her small and shrunken heart. She felt hot tears running down her face and put her hand up to her forehead, wincing as if the pain was back. But it wasn’t her head that hurt.