House of Salt and Sorrows(61)

“I…I’m sorry,” Morella said, sinking into her chair, looking small and so much younger than she was.

“Ortun, calm down,” Amelia ordered. “You’re drunk.”

“And if I am? This is my house. My home! You can all be turned out into the cold if you don’t like it.” He pointed an unsteady finger at Morella. “Including you.” He drained his wineglass in two slugs. “More!” he demanded.

As a footman raced over to oblige, Morella dabbed at her eyes, swallowing back tears. Though it didn’t happen often, Papa could fly into dangerous rages after drinking too much. They were like storms on the Kaleic Sea, ruining a perfectly sunny day with gale-force winds and biting rain, only to be over moments later. My heart went out to Morella, but it was better to just stay low and let his anger pass.

After a painfully long moment of tactful silence, Ethan spoke up, his voice cracking with bravado. “If you’re serious, my lord, I’d love to try and solve the mystery.”

No surprise there. I’d seen him taking in the beauty of Highmoor since his arrival, with eyes so wide, they practically bugged out of his skull.

“As would I,” Ivor said, his voice as gravelly as a crocodile. He winked at me, and I turned my head away.

“Splendid!” Papa’s voice rang out drunkenly above the guests.

Jules clapped his hands in glee. “When do we start?”

And just like that, Papa’s festive mood returned. He patted Morella on the back, whispering to her with apologetic, watery eyes. She dabbed at the cut on his cheek, all apparently forgiven.

“Ah, son, what fortunes could be yours,” Captain Bashemk said, wrapping his arm around Ethan to give conspiratorial advice.

Rosalie slammed her goblet down hard enough to silence the room. “Don’t we get any say in this?”

Papa’s eyes narrowed. “You had your chance and remained silent.”

“I don’t see why you’re upset,” Camille snapped. “I’m the one who has to marry whoever wins. Papa, you can’t be serious! Tell them all it’s a joke.”

“Why are you so sure you’ll be chosen?” Ligeia interrupted, fury flashing in her eyes. “I’d imagine someone ingenious enough to solve such a mystery might be interested in any one of us.”

As my sisters erupted into bickering, hurling insults and outrage at one another, I leaned back in my chair, wishing the padded seat would swallow me whole. First Night was a disaster. The captains’ wives watched the circus play out in horrified silence while their husbands shouted and cheered. In all the madness, Ivor crawled under the table to further examine the shoes. When his hand brushed across my ankle and ran up my calf, I kicked out hard, not caring if it was his chest or face I struck.

Papa sat back in his chair and began to chuckle. His laughter grew louder until his expression appeared entirely deranged. Morella placed a hand on his arm, but he swatted it away, slapping at the table.

Verity caught my eye, confusion written across her face, springing me into action. I hurried to the far end of the table, where the Graces and the Morganstin girls sat. They didn’t need to witness such absurdity from so many adults.

“Come on, ladies.” I tried keeping my voice even. “We’ll have a special treat tonight.”

“What is it?” Verity asked, perking up as she slid from the tall chair.

“Sweets in the classroom,” I made up, praying Papa and the guests wouldn’t think to carry their festivities into that area of the house.

“Oooh!” Honor breathed, her eyes sparkling. “Come on, I’ll show you where!” She grabbed one of the girls by the hand, and they all raced out.

Following them, I spotted a butler hurrying down the hall with a decanter of brandy.

“Can you let Cook know the children will be eating dessert in the classroom tonight?”

He grasped at the decanter’s neck, looking a bit panicky. “Brandy isn’t meant to be served until after dinner, in the library.” He bit his lip.

“Did Papa ask for that?” He nodded and I sighed. The last thing the room needed was liquor on top of all that wine. “Why don’t you let me take care of it,” I said, grabbing the bottle. “Ask Cook if she can ready coffee and madeleines for the guests in the hall. Tell her to make it especially strong.”

He hurried back to the kitchen. I stood in the hall for a moment, tapping at the bottle as I pondered my next move.

“That was expertly handled,” said a voice from behind me. Cassius stood under an arched window. “You’re not going to take that and run, are you?” he asked, indicating the brandy.

I let out a small laugh, but it contained no joy. “No. I was wondering how to keep Papa from noticing its absence.”

“It has gotten a little…spirited in there.”

This time my laugh was real.

“Will Sterland be all right, do you think?”

I nodded. “Something like this always happens whenever he visits Highmoor.”

Cassius offered me an easy smile. “It’s a wonder he ever dares show up.”

Memories of past fights—Sterland’s eyes bright with indignant anger, Papa’s face red and quivering with rage—surfaced.

“He and Papa have been friends for a very long time, ever since they were young boys. It’s just…something they do. Sterland was even engaged to my aunt Evangeline.”