no stopping her. And I’ll be hearing about her rheumatism, her poor eyesight, and the time she once nearly worked for the household of the Prince of Wales’s twelfth cousin four times removed.
“Thank you, Brigid. I think I’ll rest now,” I say, closing my eyes.
“Of course, lamb. Rest is wha’ you need. Rest is the thing. Why, I remember when I was to work for a very fine lady— she’d once been lady’s maid to the cousin of the Duchess of Dorset, oo was as respec’able a lady as could be foun’, I tell you . . .”
“Brigid.” It’s Felicity, trailed by Ann. “I believe I saw the parlormaids slipping belowstairs for a game of cards. I thought you might want to know.”
Brigid places her fists on her meaty hips. “They’ve no leave from me. These new girls—they don’t know their place. In my day, the ’ousekeeper was the law.” Brigid harrumphs past us, muttering under her breath the while. “Off to cards. We’ll see abou’ that!”
“Were they really off to cards?” I ask Felicity once Brigid is gone.
“Of course not. I needed to dispatch her somehow.”
“How are you feeling?” Ann asks, blushing.
“Wretched,” I answer.
Felicity sits on the edge of my bed. "Do you mean to say that this is the first time you’ve been . . . inconvenienced by your monthly illness?”
“Yes,” I snap, feeling a bit like an exotic, misunderstood animal.
In addition to the hot water bottle, I’ve been packed off to bed with some strong tea and a tiny bit of brandy, compliments of Mrs. Nightwing, who insisted that in this case the brandy was medicinal and not licentious. The tea has gone cold and bitter. But the brandy is soothing. It dulls the pulsing throb in my belly. I have never felt more ridiculous. If this is what it means to be a woman I am not the slightest bit interested.
“Poor Gemma,” Ann says, patting my hand. “In public, no less. How embarrassing for you.”
I could not be more humiliated than I am now. “If I may be so bold, may I ask, when did you commence with . . . ?” I trail off.
Felicity moves to my table, where she examines my things. She runs my brush through her white-blond hair. “Years ago.”
Of course she did. How silly of me to ask. I look to Ann, who blushes the color of a radish instantly.
“Oh, I, we sh-sh-shouldn’t t-t-talk of such things.”
“Quite right,” I say, fingering the edge of my bed linen with great care.
“She’s probably not yet a woman,” Felicity says coolly.
Ann is up in protest. "I am! For six months now!”
“Six months! There you are. She’s practically an expert on the subject.”
I try to get out of bed, but Ann pushes me back down. “Oh, no. You mustn’t move about. It isn’t good for you in your present state.”
“But . . . how am I to go about my life?”
“You simply have to endure this. It’s our punishment as daughters of Eve. Why do you think they call it the curse?”
A low rumble pulls across my stomach, making me feel heavy and irritable.
"Really? And what curse befalls the Adams of the world?”
Ann opens her mouth and, presumably thinking of nothing to say, closes it again.
It is Felicity who answers, her eyes steely. “They are weak to temptation. And we are their temptresses.”
The word
temptation
conjures Kartik in my mind. Kartik and warnings. The magic loose in the realms. The Temple.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I begin. I tell them about Kartik’s visit, about my task and the strange vision I saw during the pantomime. When I finish, they are wide-eyed.
“I’ve gooseflesh. Just think of it, all that magic loose for anyone to use,” Felicity says. I cannot say whether she is frightened or thrilled at this prospect.
Ann’s troubled. "But how can you find the Temple when you can’t enter the realms?”
I’d forgotten my lie. There is no way around it now. I shall have to confess. I pull the linens to my neck, make myself small in the bed. “The truth is, I
“Thank you, Brigid. I think I’ll rest now,” I say, closing my eyes.
“Of course, lamb. Rest is wha’ you need. Rest is the thing. Why, I remember when I was to work for a very fine lady— she’d once been lady’s maid to the cousin of the Duchess of Dorset, oo was as respec’able a lady as could be foun’, I tell you . . .”
“Brigid.” It’s Felicity, trailed by Ann. “I believe I saw the parlormaids slipping belowstairs for a game of cards. I thought you might want to know.”
Brigid places her fists on her meaty hips. “They’ve no leave from me. These new girls—they don’t know their place. In my day, the ’ousekeeper was the law.” Brigid harrumphs past us, muttering under her breath the while. “Off to cards. We’ll see abou’ that!”
“Were they really off to cards?” I ask Felicity once Brigid is gone.
“Of course not. I needed to dispatch her somehow.”
“How are you feeling?” Ann asks, blushing.
“Wretched,” I answer.
Felicity sits on the edge of my bed. "Do you mean to say that this is the first time you’ve been . . . inconvenienced by your monthly illness?”
“Yes,” I snap, feeling a bit like an exotic, misunderstood animal.
In addition to the hot water bottle, I’ve been packed off to bed with some strong tea and a tiny bit of brandy, compliments of Mrs. Nightwing, who insisted that in this case the brandy was medicinal and not licentious. The tea has gone cold and bitter. But the brandy is soothing. It dulls the pulsing throb in my belly. I have never felt more ridiculous. If this is what it means to be a woman I am not the slightest bit interested.
“Poor Gemma,” Ann says, patting my hand. “In public, no less. How embarrassing for you.”
I could not be more humiliated than I am now. “If I may be so bold, may I ask, when did you commence with . . . ?” I trail off.
Felicity moves to my table, where she examines my things. She runs my brush through her white-blond hair. “Years ago.”
Of course she did. How silly of me to ask. I look to Ann, who blushes the color of a radish instantly.
“Oh, I, we sh-sh-shouldn’t t-t-talk of such things.”
“Quite right,” I say, fingering the edge of my bed linen with great care.
“She’s probably not yet a woman,” Felicity says coolly.
Ann is up in protest. "I am! For six months now!”
“Six months! There you are. She’s practically an expert on the subject.”
I try to get out of bed, but Ann pushes me back down. “Oh, no. You mustn’t move about. It isn’t good for you in your present state.”
“But . . . how am I to go about my life?”
“You simply have to endure this. It’s our punishment as daughters of Eve. Why do you think they call it the curse?”
A low rumble pulls across my stomach, making me feel heavy and irritable.
"Really? And what curse befalls the Adams of the world?”
Ann opens her mouth and, presumably thinking of nothing to say, closes it again.
It is Felicity who answers, her eyes steely. “They are weak to temptation. And we are their temptresses.”
The word
temptation
conjures Kartik in my mind. Kartik and warnings. The magic loose in the realms. The Temple.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I begin. I tell them about Kartik’s visit, about my task and the strange vision I saw during the pantomime. When I finish, they are wide-eyed.
“I’ve gooseflesh. Just think of it, all that magic loose for anyone to use,” Felicity says. I cannot say whether she is frightened or thrilled at this prospect.
Ann’s troubled. "But how can you find the Temple when you can’t enter the realms?”
I’d forgotten my lie. There is no way around it now. I shall have to confess. I pull the linens to my neck, make myself small in the bed. “The truth is, I
Similar Books
