These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel Read online

  He attempted to brush by me, but I sidestepped with him and drew myself up, annoyed to see that he was one of the few men my height had little effect on.

  “Unfortunately, you don’t get to decide that.”

  “Miss Wyndham, I will speak to her, with or without your leave.”

  “Of all the outrageous, presumptuous things to say—” But this time I was the one cut off as he gave a curt bow and turned, striding down the corridor toward the gardens and, I hoped, off a nearby cliff. Good riddance.

  Exhausted from the whole horrible evening, I hurried back to find Rose before Robert could. Somehow, I managed to grab her, then hurried Mother and Father along to the carriage with no more than a hasty good-bye to a poor, perspiring Robert, who no doubt desired a tête-à-tête with his newly confirmed love.

  During the ride home, I clutched Rose’s hand, considering the feasibility of never letting go, to keep her from danger, particularly the odious Mr. Braddock. I tried to put him out of my mind. He didn’t even deserve the thought. He will speak to her, he says! The nerve. I shouldn’t have even responded to him. A man that eager for attention needs to be avoided, ignored. He was sorely mistaken if he thought I would let my sister near his pretense and folly. While I contemplated murder, Mother listed off the evening’s many eligible men, “especially Mr. Braddock,” she fluted, eyes digging into me.

  A hand squeeze and an inquisitive look from Rose brought my mistake with Robert back to mind. What a mess this evening had turned out to be. I gave her a halfhearted smile, and she nodded. We both knew there was much to discuss. After bidding good night to our parents, I changed into my nightgown and sneaked back downstairs like a recalcitrant child.

  Rose entered the musty library moments after me, but before I could ask what the large man and Mr. Braddock had been about, she spoke with a melancholy sigh. “Oh, Evelyn! The poor man, Felix Cheval, just wanted my help!”

  “The giant?”

  “He was looking for me! Apparently, talk of my nursing reached him all the way in London,” she said, blushing and pacing about the room. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride for my talented sister. “He has a sick sister in town. He has spoken to many doctors and is quite desperate.”

  “Enough to sneak into a ball, it seems. But how did Mr. Braddock get involved? They certainly seemed to know each other.”

  Rose nodded. “Indeed. Mr. Cheval found me as I paused from dancing, and asked to speak to me somewhere quieter. We were having a perfectly comfortable conversation until Mr. Braddock stormed in and ordered him out of the house, as you heard. They must have some kind of acquaintance.”

  Given that they seemed to be at odds with each other, I briefly found myself trying to choose a side. Mr. Cheval was simply an exceptionally large man with a sick sister, while Mr. Braddock, on the other hand, was rude, overbearing, and maddening. But they’d both been doing strange things throughout the evening. I shook away the thoughts. What mattered was Rose’s peace of mind.

  “You aren’t responsible for anything,” I assured her, settling into the nearby window seat. “There are plenty of other doctors out there for the case. It’s not as if you’re actively hurting his sister.”

  “But what if I am the only one who can help? And someone has to tell this girl, as she lies there dying, that the person who might have saved her could not make it because she has a family’s reputation to uphold?”

  “Rose, that’s highly unlikely. And your reputation won’t even be an issue soon—future matters shall be a bit easier.”

  She tilted her head and squinted her eyes.

  “Robert would be rather understanding. . . .” I added.

  Her lips pursed. She still had no idea what I was talking about.

  “And I may have told him tonight that I assumed you would marry him, which is actually an ideal—”

  “Evelyn! You didn’t!” she exclaimed, stiffening.

  “I’m afraid I did. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking and it just came out that I hoped you and Robert would be married shortly.”

  “But he’s like a brother to me—to us. Where—how did you even get the idea I have feelings for him?”

  It was my turn to be confused. I didn’t even know where to begin that list. “The endless hours you two spend together. The glances you give each other. Whenever we have a dinner party, you prefer his company over anyone else’s,” I insisted.

  “You sound like Mother now,” she said, slightly impatient. “None of that means I want to marry him. I don’t wish to marry him—or any man, for that matter!”

  I was the worst sister. I considered self-defenestration.

  “I always assumed you were teasing when you spoke about Robert in that way,” she continued.

  I sank back against the window’s drapes miserably. “And I always assumed there was an understanding.”

  She frowned and paced before finally settling down on one spot on the rug. “Well, I will simply have to tell him you were mistaken.”

  “The man has been in love with you ever since I can remember,” I pointed out lightly. “It’s not like declining an invitation to a picnic. You have to be careful how you say it.”

  She glanced over at Father’s desk and sighed. “Yes, I’ll have to prepare something so I don’t say the wrong thing—”

  “I’m so sorry to have to put you in this position. I can help you—”

  “No, don’t be, it’s quite all right. If he really is in love with me, we would have had the discussion at some point,” she insisted. “I’m glad you brought up the matter. I simply don’t want to hurt him.”

  Poor Robert. He’ll be devastated. I tried not to think of the horrid poems that would spill from his fevered brain.

  “But I cannot allow marriage to impede my work,” Rose said, standing up with new resolve. “I must become a doctor. I must study in London so I can help people like Mr. Cheval.

  “If I settle this with Robert tomorrow morning, I should also speak to Mother. I cannot allow her to interfere with my nursing as she did this evening. I didn’t protest her restrictions when she made them—I was happy to be treating any patients. But lately, I’ve been reading Mr. Darwin’s journals, and, well, he was only able to learn by traveling and venturing to a new place. That was how he formulated his brilliant ideas.”

  Rose spun Father’s globe with a great push as if she wanted to leave at that very moment. Her words came out with a speed to match it as she explained all the difficulties that female doctors encountered in trying to get an education, take the certification test, and find a place to practice. “Oh, I wish I could do the same!” she said. “There are too many sick and poor all over the world and not nearly enough doctors to help. If only Mother would allow me.”

  “You have a better chance of persuading her than anyone else,” I said. “Besides, what is one more mad daughter to her?”

  “I should thank you for going mad first, for it makes me look rather sane,” Rose replied with a laugh.

  I unfolded my legs to let them dangle, but my feet kept hitting the floor. It took everything within me to refrain from complaining about my own situation. At least Rose had her passion. She knew her precise goals and the obstacles standing in her way. It was a difficult path, no doubt, but it was still a path, and that was enviable. I could not be a doctor like her, and I had no desire to run a household like my mother. What else was there to do? And how would I ever find out if Mother refused to let me see more of the world?

  “Ev, you’ll figure it out,” Rose said, sitting down by my side. She saw through me with her piercing eyes, guessing exactly what bothered me. “There’s still plenty of time. And Mr. Kent is quite understanding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rose giggled. “That man is in love with you. And he would certainly be a wonderful companion in your world travels!” Something hot ran through me, starting at the crown of my head.

  “I can’t imagine Mr. Kent ever marrying. That’s why I thought we
got along so well.”

  “Well, if anyone can convince him, it’s you.”

  Mother had always argued that there was more freedom during marriage than before. But I had never considered that an actual possibility until this moment.

  Rose smiled mischievously. “It looks like we both have a lot of thinking to do, men to turn down . . . or not turn down.”

  “Indeed, it is exhausting being so in demand, is it not?” I asked archly.

  “Speaking of which, I think it’s bedtime. I can barely stand after all that dancing.”

  A yawn took over my mouth. “And all that hiding from dancing has exhausted me.”

  We clambered upstairs by the faint light of a nearly melted candle. Outside her bedroom, Rose came to an abrupt stop and enveloped me in a hug. “Thank you. Just talking about this makes me already feel better—freer even.”

  “I shall declare your love to men at every ball, then.”

  She snorted. “I look forward to it.”

  “Good night,” I said, muffling the words into a kiss on her forehead. “Wake me up before you do anything tomorrow.”

  “Of course.”

  I started down the dim hall, and Rose’s voice followed me, soothing like a summer breeze.

  “Ev, whatever you decide, I’ll help, too. Mother will be unable to refuse us both.”

  Those simple words reassured me more than anything else could have. An involuntary smile crossed my face, and I felt a bit lighter myself. “Thank you, Rose.”

  With a wave, she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. For a moment, I stood in the dark, cozily silent hall—the candle flickering, my toes sinking into the soft rug—and I appreciated the present. No restlessness about the future bubbling up inside to keep me awake all night—just simple contentment.

  The only lingering question in my mind was whether there had been some sort of mix-up with our births. Rose was far better at playing the older sister than I could ever hope to be. As I climbed into bed and drifted off, I promised myself that tomorrow I would be the best sister the world had ever seen.

  I WAS FLOATING on the Nile River under madly swirling clouds obscuring the pale pink sky, when a familiar, female voice sputtered through my dream.

  “Mis . . . Wyn . . . am!”

  I turned in the bath-warm water, struggling to see who it was. No sign of life on the riverbank, besides the prowling lions.

  “Miss Wyndham!” it shouted, and a wave of realization shuddered through me. That voice. That stern reprimand. I’d heard it countless times from my former teacher and governess, Miss Grey.

  “Ca—yo—hear m—?” her voice called out. My head absently nodded to my disembodied teacher’s question. I stared around the dreamscape wildly, wondering why I was still asleep and not jolting awake with fear.

  I endeavored to speak, but no matter how I tried, all that came out was a strangled moan. How—where, no—what was she?

  “Yo—mus—list—” A pale face framed with wild hair formed in the clouds high above the river, her words sparking with urgency. Bewildered, I struggled to make sense of her mashed-together sentences, rearranging and testing out the sputtered half words. But even when the same sounds seemed to repeat in her desperate warnings, they remained impossible to fit together. Only one intelligible sentence stood out from the mess.

  “Do not trust him—protect Rose.”

  “Who? Who can’t I trust?” I tried to ask. But nothing came out. The river lapped against my shoulders as I shut my eyes and desperately tried to wake up, wake up, wake up!

  But all I could do was lie rigid and paralyzed in the water, staring up at the rapidly changing clouds with her words resounding in my head.

  “Do not trust him—protect Rose.”

  “Do not trust him—protect Rose.”

  I lay for ages in a horrible half-state, knowing I was dreaming but unable to wake from the horrid nightmare.

  Until a scream, one not in my head, pierced the air.

  I FLEW UP and awakened, senses adjusting to the diffused sunlight, the smell of burned tallow, the sounds echoing across the house. The cries had not stopped.

  When I scrambled out of bed and stepped into the hallway, a folded sheet of paper rustled under my foot. I snatched it up, but another loud yell sent me running into Rose’s room, where Mother and two maids stood, hands clasped to their mouths in shock. Chills crawled down my back.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  No reply.

  Rose was nowhere to be seen, and her room had the strange appearance of a hasty departure. Her bedsheets had spilled onto the floor, her dresser drawers were left open, and her wardrobe was half empty. A sizable number of her dresses were gone, but the selection made little sense. Her favorite green silk and other well-loved dresses were left behind, but some of the older, unfashionable ones were missing. Kneeling by her trunk, I flung open the lid. Her familiar medicine bag, meticulously packed away, stared up at me.

  “Where is she?” No response again. My pulse jumped forward. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. “What is all of this?”

  “I don’t know, Evelyn!” my mother finally erupted, pacing the room with her hand at her breast, as though trying to keep her heart in place. Her wide eyes scanned the floor. She bit her lip and cleared her throat. “No one has seen her this morning.”

  “And in the night?”

  “Please. I must think.”

  My fists clenched, and the forgotten paper crinkled in my hand. A letter. The writing looked haphazard and rushed, but it was undoubtedly Rose’s hand:

  Evie—

  I must apologize for my abrupt and secretive departure, but I felt it necessary for my own sake. A true good-bye would have been far too much to handle, and I fear I would never have gone through with it had we spoken.

  I have decided to travel to London to provide care for Mr. Cheval’s sister. I find that I cannot deny someone in need of my help, and if I do not take this request, I can never trust myself to do something of the slightest inconvenience to me in the future. I know I had planned to speak with Mother about the matter, but what you said is true—I am the last person who can persuade her. I know this request would not stand a chance.

  I hope you understand my reasons and I will write to you immediately upon my arrival.

  Rosie

  “Mother,” I said, handing her the letter with shaking fingers, “it’s her hand—but this isn’t her. This isn’t Rose.”

  She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes scanning the document. “Heavens.” The word escaped her lips unnoticed. Leaning against the wallpaper, she looked trapped by a congested tangle of flowers and vines growing around her. Gradually, though, the lines on her forehead smoothed, and her distress changed to her usual, if more strained, self-command. “Your sister has put us in a difficult situation.”

  “Mother, Rose would not write such a letter! This was written under duress—someone forced her to do it!”

  “Stop it,” she snapped, belying her composure. She drummed her fingers against her neck, where I could see the slightest tick of her heartbeat. “This is serious. Stay calm, and I will speak with your father to decide what must be done.” She ordered the maids to clean up the mess and hurried out, folding the letter over and over.

  I stared around the room blankly. I had told Rose that she was the only one who could persuade Mother—quite the opposite of what she’d written. And the names! Never had we used Evie or Rosie as nicknames or even as jokes. Rose would never have written a good-bye letter like that.

  My hand flew to my mouth as I struggled not to heave.

  “Do not trust him—protect Rose.”

  I failed her. Somehow I dreamed of the danger last night but remained asleep like a useless lump. It was entirely my fault.

  Our maid Lucy cleared her throat by the door. “Miss Wyndham, your mother asked me to help dress you for church.”

  My guilt shifted very quickly to anger. Rose was kidnapped, and they w
anted to go to church? Mechanically, I marched to my room and dressed, not knowing where Lucy put my nightgown or how she laced me into my corset with shaking fingers. My mind thought of nothing but Rose. Mother would not listen until I found some kind of evidence, and with two men showing entirely too much interest in my sister last night, I had my suspicions about which of them might be able to provide it. And he would be attending church with his uncle.

  “For the time being, we will tell anyone who asks that Rosamund is visiting my sister in London,” my mother informed me as the carriage took us into town for church.

  Father nodded along in approval. “We will have to wait for her next letter. Then we’ll send someone to retrieve her.”

  I refrained from saying anything and seethed silently, raging at both Mr. Cheval and Mr. Braddock. The carriage groaned to a stop outside the church, and as the small crowd of our neighbors meandered inside, I saw a solitary dark head lingering in the shadows. Of course he was in the shadows.

  “Oh look, Mother, there’s Mr. Braddock. I would so like to speak to him again!” I said as I climbed out.

  Mother looked at me suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “Oh no, I simply didn’t wish to give myself away!” Was a modest look down doing it up too brown? Yes, probably.

  “Is it really the time for this, Evelyn?”

  “It can’t hurt to just speak to him, could it?”

  My parents were too tired to argue any further and led the way to the church. I pretended to find the sky deeply fascinating until they were safely inside. When the last person shut the door, I marched directly toward Mr. Braddock, and the expression on his face turned stormy when he realized my target.

  “Miss Wyndham, are you also angling for a seat in the back?” Dark green eyes judged mine for a brief moment before he bowed slightly.

  Without preamble or forethought, the words spilled out. “What is your relationship to the giant?”

  He stared at me as though I had grown a few extra heads, and in reviewing the phrasing, perhaps he had reason. “What are you speaking of?” he replied carefully. “What’s happened?”