Rook(55)

“Benoit,” she called, raising her voice, though not enough to wake the rooks. “Come walk with me.” She waited, standing still in the breeze, then switched to Parisian. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just walked back together?”

She heard the faint rustle of leaves, and the rustle became the shadow of a man materializing from the woods. Sophia smiled as Benoit stepped into the road and followed her across the footbridge. They walked side by side down the A5 lane.

“I’ve been to see my father,” she said, still in Parisian. “Though I’m sure you know that already.”

Benoit didn’t say anything, just walked, hands in pockets.

“I’ve wanted to … I should have said it sooner, but I wanted to thank you for what happened at the Holiday.”

She saw the movement of his nod. Benoit was thin, unremarkable, perfect for his job, but his walk struck her as unhappy. She said, “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know. I didn’t know you were there. I just assumed that one of you must be. I wouldn’t have let me go sneaking off in the middle of the night on my own.” Benoit shuffled along beside her, silent. “Your master really should let you get some sleep.”

“René does not sleep. And he is not my master.”

“I see.” Sophia considered this as they made the turn onto Graysin Lane. Parisians were usually so clear about the lines between classes, but nothing about René seemed to follow the usual. “If he doesn’t sleep, then why doesn’t he follow me himself?”

“Because he is being a fool.”

“Oh, so he thinks I don’t need following? And this upsets you?”

“I am not used to seeing a Hasard act like a fool.”

Sophia smiled, thinking of René running about Bellamy House, finding ingenious ways to be annoying so he wouldn’t have to marry her. “I would’ve thought you’d be quite familiar, actually.”

Her words had been teasing, but Benoit’s were not. “Now you are being the fool, Mademoiselle.”

She looked at him sidelong. Probably he’d be surprised to know that, generally speaking, she agreed with him. “I don’t think you like me, Benoit.”

“No. I do not.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you care for nothing but the money.”

Sophia stopped in the road. “Once you get going, you are very free with your opinions.”

“I am truthful. That is all.”

“You may think you’re being truthful, but you are just being wrong.”

“As you say.” He started down the lane again, hands in pockets.

Sophia caught up to him. “I didn’t ask for this, you know. No more than he did, and of course I care whether my father is in a debtor’s cell and if we lose our land. But I will get Adèle Hasard out of the Tombs whether there is a marriage fee or not.”


The trees thinned, the farmhouse looming dark on their left, one window showing a faint candle-glow. Sophia felt her spurt of temper evaporating. “I said I would get his mother out and I will. But whatever happens afterward, I don’t mean him any harm, Benoit.”

His soundless footsteps ceased. “And yet you are causing it, are you not? René does not show himself easily, Mademoiselle.” And with that Benoit turned and walked away, taking a smooth, quick stride to the farmhouse, uninterested in anything else she might have to say.

Sophia looked up. The candlelit window was René’s room, a figure moving back and forth behind the curtain. What did Benoit mean? And could she really have the power to hurt him? She’d thought any danger of that was the other way around.

She watched Benoit’s shadowy form slip around the corner of the farmhouse, then turned and looked behind her. Branches were moving, and Cartier came out of the woods on the other side of the lane.

“You’re lucky I got him to walk with me,” Sophia said as he came trotting up.

“I reckon he would’ve spotted me for sure, Miss Bellamy.”

Sophia grinned at the top of Cartier’s mop-like head. You would never guess that Cartier was Parisian. He’d taken to the Commonwealth like a little chameleon, embodying Parliament’s ideal of the resourceful survivor better than most men she knew. Even though he hadn’t quite hit his growth spurt.

“I’ve left you three more kegs,” Sophia said. “In the print house, in the usual place. You can get all eight of them sent on to the city tomorrow? And they are all correctly marked?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“And this is still our secret, even from Spear?” The boy looked so affronted she didn’t wait for an answer. “Right, off you go, then. And … No, wait.”

Cartier dropped out of his runner’s stance and looked up at her inquiringly. She reached into her jacket and handed him a small sack of quidden.

“This isn’t all of it. Money is … a bit scarce at the moment.”

“Well, that’s no secret, Miss Bellamy. My mum told me that.”

Sophia sighed. That should not have surprised her. “Will your mother be all right? Until I can get the rest?”

“Not to worry, Miss.”

She grinned again. Cartier was an absolute brick. “Careful, then!”