Creatures of Will and Temper Read online

  “May I see your studio now, Uncle Basil?” Dorina said, clearly ready for more excitement.

  “If you like,” said their uncle. “Evadne, would you like to . . .”

  “I’m going to go unpack,” she said firmly.

  Dorina blinked at her, astonished that someone might wish to unpack her things and settle in upon arriving in a new house.

  “Don’t have too much fun, Sister,” she said.

  “I never do,” Evadne assured her.

  4

  Never let anyone tell you demons are unnatural things—they are perpetual, like fragile flowers that blossom anew each year, like the majestic pine that never goes brown.

  —On the Summoning of Demons

  They had started with oysters and champagne beneath the golden, vaulted ceiling of the Criterion, and then moved on to salads and lamb dressed with mint and summer peas. Evadne was impressed in spite of herself; the food was as spectacular as their palatial surroundings—especially the ices, and the spread of cheeses, fruits, and chocolates that arrived at the end of their meal.

  The quality of the dinner did not, however, make up for the fact that despite Lady Henry’s assurances, they were the only women in the place. Just as Evadne had feared, Lady Henry had made them a spectacle their very first night in town. Dorina wasn’t even out, and here she was, being gawked at in the heart of Piccadilly, where likely every other diner was some personage of note who could spread a story about the Gray sisters as easily as Evadne was spreading butter across her bread. It was mortifying to be stared at as if they were animals in some menagerie—the level of interest in them was so great that Evadne wondered if any of the other diners had ever seen a woman before, anywhere. In fact, it was difficult for her to decide if she was more annoyed by their behavior, or Lady Henry’s lack of propriety in bringing them there in the first place.

  Dorina, predictably, took no notice of the others who ate at the Criterion that night—she cared only for Lady Henry. Well, and the oysters. Evadne was pleased to see her sister eating more than she had at lunch, but there were few who could resist such a sumptuous repast, even someone like Dorina, who had once in all seriousness declared that “conversation was food for the soul.” But, of course, to Dorina, the one presiding over the table was more interesting to her than anything laid upon it.

  To be fair, Lady Henry was a considerate hostess. Perhaps it was the nap Evadne had taken that afternoon, but she enjoyed the woman’s company far more during supper, even if she had made them yet more notorious by appearing in full men’s evening dress, white scarf around her neck and top hat in hand. Still, she offered everyone choice bits of everything while making conversation so sparkling the champagne seemed flat, and most of the time she spoke not of herself, but of what they should do over the coming weeks and months.

  Lady Henry also possessed the gift of holding her tongue as well as wagging it. She did not dominate the night—no, she seemed genuinely interested in Dorina’s plans regarding her monograph. She tried her best to draw out Evadne, too.

  “You know, Evadne, my brother used to fence when he was at Eton,” she said. “He believed it as much an art as music, or painting. He favored the epee . . . well, most of the time.”

  “An epee fencer!” Evadne perked up now that the conversation had turned to something she was actually interested in. “Did you ever practice with him?”

  “Oh no.” Lady Henry shook her head. “He was terribly fast and aggressive. Watching him was rather like seeing lightning strike—too terrifying for me. No, I always stuck with the slow crawling of the earthworm, or the unfurling of a leaf.”

  “A fencer must be aggressive,” said Evadne. “You must generate explosive power for the strikes, while remaining light enough to retreat quickly.”

  “You sound just like my brother,” said Lady Henry, smiling. “I suppose it comes with the territory. Baz said you’ve been practicing for years. Do you compete?”

  “I wouldn’t, even if I could.” Evadne blushed furiously at the thought. “I think I should die of embarrassment to show off in front of people! I’ve only ever practiced for my own pleasure.”

  “Is that so?” said Dorina, which made Evadne blush all the harder; she kept her eyes fixed on the remains of the cheeses, sensing what was coming next, and dreading it. “I always thought you practiced so you could beat Freddie when he came home for the holidays—not that he didn’t deserve it.”

  “Freddie?” Lady Henry leaned in. “Who is Freddie?”

  “A family friend,” said Evadne firmly. “We have just congratulated him on his engagement to a lovely young woman.”

  “How delightful.” Lady Henry earned a bit of Evadne’s good will by not pursuing the enquiry any further. “Well, fencing for pleasure sounds like a fine way to keep fit. I know Oliver used to enjoy practicing more than competing; he only competed because he was expected to, being so good.” Then she grinned across the table at Evadne. “Tomorrow when you come by, if you can bear to tear yourself away from my greenhouse, you should look over Oliver’s fencing things. Who knows, there might be something you could use.”

  Evadne was delighted. “I’d love to, if it’s all right with your brother. Uncle Basil! Are you all right?” The man sounded as if he had a piece of cheese stuck in his throat.

  “Oliver passed away some months ago,” said Lady Henry smoothly.

  Evadne was mortified, but Lady Henry didn’t seem upset; Basil, on the other hand, looked even worse—as if he might burst into tears.

  Evadne glanced at Dorina, hoping for help, but her sister looked as though she might begin weeping herself. How ridiculous! She hadn’t known the man even existed two moments before—hadn’t known his sister before lunchtime today! Evadne stared down at her plate, feeling like the most awkward person ever born.

  “You couldn’t have known.” Lady Henry’s voice was composed and gentle. “I should have been clearer; the fault is entirely mine, Evadne. I didn’t mean to embarrass you—I was just so very pleased to think that some of Oliver’s old things might be used by someone who appreciated them.”

  Evadne nodded, still not looking up. She knew she ought to say something, accept Lady Henry’s apology, but she felt humiliated, furious, and disinclined to be civil.

  “Now, Dorina,” said Lady Henry, obviously hoping to dispel the tension, “as you and I will be getting our hands dirty, you should plan on changing before we go out. For gardening, I suggest something loose-fitting, durable, and easily laundered.”

  “I’ll just borrow something of Evadne’s,” said Dorina. “She has plenty of tweedy whatsits and cambric tents.”

  Evadne was not mollified by either the description of her wardrobe or Dorina’s assumption that she could simply borrow whatever she liked without asking. Even so, she said nothing. Dorina would have her way; fighting it would only waste her breath and everyone’s time.

  “A cambric tent sounds perfect, and very similar to what I’ll be wearing, but it will get very dirty. If you don’t have anything of your own, I’ll loan you something,” said Lady Henry. Evadne finally looked up, but when Lady Henry winked at her, she pretended not to notice.

  “I have a few old smocks that would likely work, too,” said Basil.

  “Perfect! Well, it sounds like we have a busy day ahead of us. Perhaps we should all head home to bed, though it’s early.”

  She stood, and Evadne glanced at a clock—why, it was nearly midnight! To think, Lady Henry considered that early!

  “Good idea,” said Basil, dabbing at his lips a final time before tossing his napkin on the plate.

  “You’re the only artist I know who’s in bed before eleven most nights,” said Lady Henry. “You ought to keep later hours—it’s more fashionable.”

  Evadne marveled at the woman. Given his wan appearance, Basil probably ought to have been in bed hours ago. What a thing to tease him about! At least her uncle seemed to perk up at this raillery.

  “My duty is to create art, n
ot be fashionable,” he replied. “Anyway, didn’t you say that getting to know me would cure Dorina of her ambition to be an art critic? I should be wronging her parents terribly if I let her go home thinking all artists are like they are in novels, lying about smoking opium half the day and drinking half the night. It makes one wonder when they have time to paint!”

  It might have been the champagne, but Evadne felt a surge of affection for her fussy uncle. The look on Dorina’s face after this speech was priceless.

  It was scarcely half a mile to her home in Curzon Street, so Lady Henry elected to walk. As Evadne, Dorina, and Basil piled into a cab, Evadne looked over her shoulder at the lady’s retreating figure. If she hadn’t known better, she really would have mistaken her for a man.

  “However did you meet such an extraordinary person?” she asked as Basil closed the door after them.

  “Her brother and I were at school together,” said Basil. “Oliver was a very good friend.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” said Evadne. Her uncle was silent as he stared out the cab window. “Both of you.”

  “She’s always been an odd one, Henry,” he said after a moment, “but I don’t know where I’d be without her. She looks after me, you know. Makes sure I’m eating properly, and sends my paintings to galleries.”

  “A good influence, then,” said Dorina, looking pointedly at Evadne, as if proving a point.

  Evadne said nothing. Even if the lady was a good influence on her uncle, she couldn’t imagine the same would hold true for her sister.

  “Belladonna was said to open the inner eye, but really it just causes hallucinations,” said Lady Henry, pointing at some plant that to Evadne’s eyes looked the same as all the rest of them—leafy, with some sort of berries or fruits on it. “And there you have monkshood, which apparently will help you become invisible, but I haven’t tried it personally, as it’s also poisonous.”

  Evadne stifled a yawn. She had come along to see Lady Henry’s greenhouse, but while it was lovely, it was also warm and humid, which would have made her feel sleepy even if she’d been at all interested in the lecture. As it was . . .

  “But, not everything in a witch’s garden will kill you,” said Lady Henry, leading them past a fountain where water splashed gaily from a nude nymph’s amphora. “Witches need medicine, same as anyone, and a kitchen garden, too. See, here’s parsley, thyme, coriander . . . Why, my dill is looking a bit limp.” She squatted down, knees in the dirt, to inspect the great feathery bush.

  “How fascinating this all is!” enthused Dorina, glancing upward at the bright panes of glass and ornate copper bracings, her arms over her head as she spun in place. She looked rather like a witch herself, with her hair tucked up, a smudge of dirt on her nose, and her curvy body making Basil’s smock bulge and ripple in ways it certainly never had before. “It’s like being in an enchanted forest, right in the heart of London. I’d never imagined anywhere this peaceful could exist here!”

  For once, Evadne had to agree with her sister. Even though some of the glass panels had been propped open to allow in a cross breeze, she could not hear the city around her, even here in Mayfair. If only the paths were a bit more open, she could happily practice her fencing footwork and forget where she was for a bit. But, space being at a premium, there was barely enough room for Dorina’s spinning; if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up scratched by a rosebush.

  “An enchanted forest, and every other sort of place,” said Lady Henry, brushing her hands on her workman’s trousers as she stood. “A garden can take us anywhere we want to be. I have some desert plants over closer to the border, and of course more tropical varieties.” She smiled. “My ginger collection is really quite extensive, even for a horticulturist.”

  “There’s more than one kind of ginger?”

  “Oh yes!” said Lady Henry. “Come and see!”

  They peered down at what looked to Evadne like more bushes. She tried to see the difference, and all she could come up with was that these leaves were broader, and some were, what was the word? Variegated? Evadne decided she’d been more than polite, and this was probably the ideal time to make her escape.

  “If we’re heading out after luncheon, I was wondering . . .” she began.

  “Oh, of course, you’ll be wanting to look through Oliver’s equipment,” said Lady Henry.

  “I’m afraid I’m the sort who appreciates nature as a whole,” she said apologetically.

  “I completely understand,” said Lady Henry. “Dorina, please excuse me. I won’t be more than a moment taking Evadne up to Oliver’s room.”

  Evadne blushed. “His bedroom?”

  “Yes, everything should still be in his closet,” said Lady Henry. “I do hope that’s all right?”

  “I’ve just never been . . .” Evadne swallowed.

  “Never been where? In a strange man’s bedroom? No time like the present—you can’t begin any younger, you know.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Evadne was shocked. The morning had been dull, but up until now she’d been feeling as if the visit had been going well enough. Now, she was ready to take Dorina straight back to their uncle’s, no matter how her sister might cry and carry on.

  “Forgive me.” Lady Henry held up her hands. “I did not mean to offend. I forget sometimes that my sense of humor isn’t as polite as it ought to be.”

  “Don’t feel like you have to worry about me,” said Dorina.

  Evadne, seething, opened her mouth, but Lady Henry cut her off by saying, “Come along, my dear, and let’s find you some pointy things to coo over.”

  Evadne really did not like Lady Henry—and very nearly said so—but she felt a bit better once she was out of the heat. The high ceilings and cooler air did much to revive her spirits.

  “I’m sorry,” said Lady Henry. “Really, I am. I’ve always been the sort of person to say the wrong thing, and it’s getting worse now that I’m an old woman with an entire fortune instead of just half of one.” Evadne said nothing, appalled—what sort of creature spoke of a sibling’s death in such a callous manner? “See? There I go again, distressing you with my bad manners.”

  “It is not on my own behalf that I am distressed,” said Evadne evenly. “My sister . . .”

  “Forgive me, but your sister is far less alarmed by my behavior than you seem to be.”

  “She is young, and inclined to think less of her future than her present. Even if she does act like some wild thing from a circus, Dorina is a young lady and she ought to remember it. This trip to London . . .” Evadne realized she was speaking more freely than she ought to be. “I was sent along to keep watch over her,” she continued, “for she is inclined to act thoughtlessly, and imitate those she finds amusing rather than respectable.”

  They had reached the second floor of the imposing townhouse and stood before a closed door. Lady Henry had her hand on the knob, but held it there. Now she was the one who appeared astonished, and Evadne realized just how rude she had been. How could she have said such a thing!

  Lady Henry recovered her composure quickly. “One day, when you’re older, you’ll understand how delightful it is to be considered amusing by the young. This way.”

  As they entered Lord Oliver’s bedroom, Evadne tried her best to think of some way to apologize, but her mind had suddenly gone blank. She felt cross and angry—at herself, but also at Lady Henry.

  “We had some of his furniture cleared away to make use of it elsewhere,” she said, her tone a bit cooler than before. “I’d say you’ll have enough space to try on or try out whatever you like.”

  Evadne wished she could run off, or at least decline the lady’s offer to look over the equipment, for she knew she was undeserving of any kindness after her little speech. She tried to find some excuse, any excuse not to pick out presents for herself after being so rude.

  “The carpet,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I shouldn’t like to wear it out. Perhaps I’d bette
r—”

  “It’s meant to be stepped on, isn’t it?”

  Evadne winced. “I suppose so.”

  “Anyway, here’s everything,” said Lady Henry. “The swords are here on the back of the door, hanging, and his outfits or whatever you call them are clean on the hangers.”

  “Thank you very much.” Evadne sounded stiff, even to her own ears. “It’s very kind of you to offer me the opportunity.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Lady Henry’s smile seemed thinner. “Well, enjoy yourself.”

  Evadne nodded, smiling brightly, but after Lady Henry shut the door behind her, she collapsed into a chair and put her face in her hands. Why had she been so awful? Why was she always so awful?

  She would just have to see this through, pick over a dead man’s kit and accept something. To refuse everything would be rude. So she started rooting around, in the hopes of finding one or two items that weren’t too expensive.

  She quickly realized it was all expensive. His gloves were of the highest quality, and likely tailored exactly for him, but they worked well enough for her. She set them aside. His mask fit, too, but she put that back, liking her own better.

  His jackets and trousers didn’t work at all, being designed for a man, but the swords . . . oh, the swords! When she saw them, Evadne recalled her resolution to limit herself to something small; when she picked up the first one, she forgot it entirely. It was perfect—they were all perfect, from the sport-fencing epees to the martial weapons. Evadne desired them all. They were far nicer than hers, and hers were very nice indeed.

  In the end, she settled on two epees and a real rapier, which was too heavy for her to do much with but was too beautifully balanced to resist. She looked at them, set out on the bed in a row, deliriously happy, until she remembered two things: one, she would have to talk to Lady Henry about what she had picked out, which meant talking to Lady Henry; and two, she had lost her only fencing partner. Certainly she could use this equipment to keep up on her drills, as she used to do when Freddie was away at school, but now he was never coming home again. He was gone—and so was she, for that matter.