Star's Crossing

24: A Pitied Creature

How could this be?

Alison Watt.

No. Mare would not believe it.

Not even when Mare and Lilith agreed, inspired by ulterior motives, of course, to join Alison for tea at her parents' estate. Though none of the girls were dressed for the occasion, neither Lilith nor Mare insisted they delay the meal to change. Mare imagined both feared how swift the opportunity to harvest information might slip through their fingers.

When they arrived at the Watt estate, Alison quickly excused herself to wash up, leaving Mare and Lilith in the care of a servant—quickly and decisively dismissed to fetch refreshments—and the old, dust-thick parlor library. The moment Alison left the room, Lilith whipped toward Mare.

"Well?" She snatched Mare's arm, searching her eyes with determination in her own a tint to her cheeks. "How can it be? Why?"

Mare was still a bit incensed after hers and Lilith's argument by William's Pond, and further still with Lilith's insistence Mare reveal herself as the Gazette letter writer. She was beginning to think that between herself, Lilith, and Miss Cressida, she was the only one willing to do what it took to unveil the plot to sabotage her future.

If indeed that was her foe's intent, and she was willing to do whatever necessary.

"There must be an explanation," she said with some hostility, pulling free of Lilith's surprisingly vise-like grip. Mare smoothed her dress and turned toward the great circular room before them, searching the dense blocks of shadows as though for hidden forces, and the light for some sense of direction. She found nothing but a pair of fine leather sofas, an entire globe in gold filigree bass relief, and a spiral staircase winding one wall to an overhanging loft positively stuffed with books.

"Alison could be delivering them for her mother or father," said Lilith, speaking quick and low. Her voice sounded muffled a moment, and much louder the next, as she materialized at Mare's side. "She could be delivering them for anyone. So the question becomes why? Who would feel such a need to disguise themselves they'd refuse to deliver the letters—by anonymous post or messenger—and select Alison instead to accomplish the task? They must know her identity cannot point to them, or they wouldn't risk it."

Mare ground the bud of her hand against her temple, glowering toward Lilith, though the girl was far too deep in thought to take notice. "Perhaps it simply is Alison. Perhaps her motives are less than nefarious."

"Perhaps the hopeless romantic is a bit naïve," said Lilith, looking Mare over pointedly though there was no venom in her voice, only a strange, keen curiosity. "But I agree Alison does not seem the type to employ such means for insidious reason."

Mare breathed through her nose, determined to cool the steadily kindling rage within her. She took to the winding steps, which rose above a large arched window swaddled in gossamer drapes. Through their ripples Mare spotted Geoffrey on the lawn, engaged in a vigorous game of something or other with his brother and cousin.

The copper of his hair caught the still-early light, and he threw back his head in response to something Theodore called through cupped hands. Geoffrey wore a white shirt rolled to the cuffs, the collar open and body marked by mottled stains of dirt and grass. One elbow, Mare noticed, kneeling on the step and drawing the curtain, bled into the rolled sleeve of his left arm. He didn't seem to notice.

Mare remembered all too clearly, and all at once, what life had been like in the short months at Geoffrey's side. Children playing, she reminded herself, and nothing more. Boy and girl had meant very different things then. Now what did they mean?