A Lady Under Siege(49)
Derek thought a moment. “Thomas, listen up. Porn habits are off limits, bud.”
“Please. That’s the last thing I want to hear about,” Meghan sighed. “I’m fully aware of all the deviant crap that clogs the internet, and if you’re looking at it you’re just one in a billion, apparently. That’s not what I want Thomas to tell us. I’m hoping for something more personal, something absolutely unique to you.”
“If he’s in there, and truly the gentleman you describe, he’ll respect any real secrets I have, and not go blabbing them.”
“His goal is to cure his daughter,” Meghan said. “He’ll do whatever it takes. This could be the swift kick we need to get you motivated to help us save a child. So Thomas, please do it. Give me something good from the private world of Derek.”
24
A girl in the kitchen offered Mabel some meat from the leg of a boar, yesterday’s supper reboiled. She said no, knowing wild boar was a dish Sylvanne did not care for, but she did manage to take a few pieces and stuff them in her mouth. “Just a wee sample,” she joked. Then she returned with breakfast for herself and her Mistress: boiled eggs still in their shells, some rye bread roughly sliced, a bowl of warmed butter to dip it in, milk in a pitcher, and warmed cider in a jug. The guard helped her carry it from the kitchen to her Lady’s chambers, then excused himself with a nod and a bow. As the door shut, Sylvanne looked upon her maidservant expectantly.
“Well?” she asked. “Did you manage it this time?”
Mabel shook her head regretfully. “No Ma’am.”
“I’m growing impatient with you,” Sylvanne spat. “How hard can it be? From a kitchen full of them I ask only that you slip a small blade unnoticed into your apron, and hurry it to me.”
“It’s not so easy, Ma’am,” Mabel said apologetically. “I’m watched, always. But I promise the day will come when the proper opportunity presents itself, and I will act.”
“Make haste, Mabel,” Sylvanne exhorted her. “The more healthy that child grows, the harder it becomes to contemplate ruining her happiness. Every day I’m taken from this room to sit with father and daughter, where despite myself I’m affected by them. I can’t help it, when I’m exposed for hours on end to the loving attachment I see them share. Then I’m brought back here to be locked up and left to daydreams and queer thoughts. Do you know what I was thinking, just now? That perhaps I should kill the daughter along with her father, for her own good, to spare her a life of wretchedness. She’s already lost a mother—would she really want to go on living, sickly as she is, and fully orphaned? Mightn’t she be happier drowned like an unwanted kitten?”
“Oh, no, Ma’am, you mustn’t think such things,” Mabel cried. “To punish the guilty won’t bar you from heaven, but to harm the innocent surely will. And that child is sweet-natured and innocent.”
“I know that, and thus I contemplate putting her out of her misery. Is it strange to imagine that killing someone could be a favour to them?” Before Mabel could answer she continued, “I’ll kill her father as a favour to my late husband, because it’s my duty to do so, but why stop there? Why not kill the daughter, or kill myself even? I’ve never killed before—I may discover I like it, and go on a spree.”
“Madame,” Mabel pleaded. “I worry for your sanity. You obsess on your singular duty, and that can only be unhealthy.”
“How can I not obsess?” Sylvanne muttered angrily. “Do I have anything else here to occupy my mind?”
In a careful, tentative voice, Mabel asked, “Might I give you some advice, ma’am?”
“Yours is the only voice that speaks to me,” said Sylvanne. “So speak freely.”
“Well then. You’re not making your task any easier by so clearly showing everyone here your true intent. They see it, one and all, in your face, your actions, and even your words. When you are in the presence of Lord Thomas you’re sullen, unhelpful, and your words are ice cold. You claim a desire to imitate the life of Judith, but as I recall the story of that heroine, she didn’t approach that villain Holofernes with fury on her face and foul curses on her lips. Just the opposite—she tempted that great brute. She led him down the garden path to his own destruction using soft sighs and feminine giggles, gestures meant to enchant a man, and make him forget himself.”