The Glittering Court Page 3

  “That’s why it takes a year,” Cedric explained. “She’ll live in one of my uncle’s manors learning all these things and then sail over to Adoria with all the girls from the other manors. If she chooses to go.”

  At this, Ada finally came to life. Her head jerked up. “I don’t have to go?”

  “Well, no,” said Cedric, a little surprised at the question. He produced a roll of paper from his coat—with a bit of a flourish, if I wasn’t mistaken. “At the end of your year, your contract states you can either choose to go to Adoria to have a marriage made for you or you can leave the Glittering Court, at which point we’ll find a suitable work arrangement to reimburse us for your education.”

  Ada looked immensely more cheerful, and I realized she probably thought said arrangement would involve a job similar to what she had now.

  “I’m guessing he means a workhouse or a factory,” I said.

  Her face fell. “Oh. But it’d still be here. In Osfrid.”

  “Yes,” said Cedric. “If you want to stay. But honestly? Who’d pick those kind of long work hours over a chance to be on the arm of a wealthy, doting husband who’ll drape you in silks and jewels?”

  “I don’t get to choose him,” she argued.

  “That’s not entirely true. When you arrive in Adoria, you and the other girls will have a three-month period in which you’ll be presented to those eligible men who’ve shown interest in our jewels—that’s what my uncle calls the Glittering Court girls.” He turned his smile to its most dazzling, trying to reassure her. “You’ll love it there. The colonial men go crazy when we bring new girls. It’s a season of parties and other social engagements, and you’ll get a whole new wardrobe for it all—Adorian fashions are somewhat different from ours. If more than one man makes an offer for you, then you can choose the one you want.”

  Once again, I found myself brimming with jealousy, but Ada still looked uncertain. No doubt she’d heard tales of danger and savagery about Adoria. And, in fairness, some weren’t unfounded. When settlers from Osfrid and other countries had landed in Adoria, there’d been terrible bloodshed between them and the Icori clans living there. Many of the Icori had been driven away, but we still heard stories of other tragedies: diseases, storms, and wild animals, to name a few.

  But what were those things compared to the riches and greatness that Adoria offered? And wasn’t there danger everywhere? I wanted to shake some sense into her, to tell her she should take this opportunity and never look back. Surely there could be no greater adventure than this. But she’d never had a sense of adventure, never seen the promise of taking a chance on something she didn’t know. That was part of the reason I hadn’t picked her to come with me to Lionel’s household.

  After much deliberation, she turned to me. “What do you think I should do, my lady?”

  The question caught me unprepared, and suddenly, all I could think of was my grandmother’s words: You’ll have people making choices for you your entire life. Get used to it.

  I felt myself softening. “You have to make your own choices—especially since you’ll be on your own once you leave my service.” I looked over at Cedric, and for the first time, I saw uneasiness on those striking features. He was afraid Ada was going to opt out. Did the Glittering Court have quotas to meet? Was he on the hook to come back with someone?

  “Mister Thorn has made it all sound very lovely,” she replied. “But I kind of feel like some trinket being bought and sold.”

  “Women always feel that way,” I said.

  But in the end, Ada accepted Cedric’s offer anyway because, as she saw it, she had nowhere else to go. Over her shoulder I scanned the contract, which was mostly a more formal explanation of what Cedric had told us. When she signed, I did a double take.

  “That’s your full name?” I asked. “Adelaide? Why don’t you go by that?”

  She shrugged. “Too many letters. It took me years to learn to spell it.”

  Cedric seemed to struggle to keep a straight face. I wondered if he was starting to question this choice and if Ada could really be made into part of his “new nobility.”

  Contract in hand, he stood up and bowed to me. To her, he said, “I have other contracts to deliver this afternoon and some errands to run at the university. You can take the day to pack your things, and our carriage will come to retrieve you this evening and take you to your manor. My father and I will join you along the way.”

  “Where is this manor?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure which one she’ll be assigned to,” he admitted. “I’ll know by tonight. My uncle maintains four for the Glittering Court, with ten girls each. One is in Medfordshire. Two are in Donley, another in Fairhope.”

  They were true country houses then, I noted, placing each location on a mental map. They were each at least half a day from where we were in Osfro.

  He delivered a few more last-minute instructions before making motions to leave. I offered to walk him out, which was a bit unorthodox, and took him back toward the garden I’d been in earlier. “University. So you’re a student then, Mister Thorn.”

  “Yes. You don’t sound surprised by that.”

  “It’s in your manner. And your coat. Only a student would set his own fashion standards.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t. It’s actually an Adorian fashion. I’ve got to look the part when I go with the girls.”

  “You get to go too?” Somehow, that made this entire thing even more agonizing. “You’ve been there before?”

  “Not in years, but—”

  He drew up short as we rounded a corner and heard more sniffling. Old Doris the cook was trudging toward the kitchen, trying not to cry as she walked.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way . . .” Cedric began. “But there are a lot of tears in your household.”

  I shot him a wry look. “Much is changing. Doris won’t be going with us either. She’s blind in one eye, and my cousin doesn’t want her.”

  He turned to study me, and I averted my gaze, not wanting him to see how much this decision pained me. In her condition, Doris wasn’t going to have an easy time finding work. It was another argument Grandmama had won. I was losing my edge.

  “Is she good?” Cedric asked.

  “Very.”

  “Excuse me,” he called out to her.

  Doris turned in surprise. “M’lord?” Neither of us bothered to correct her error.

  “Is it true that your services are for hire? I can understand if someone else has already hired you on.”

  She blinked, her one good eye focusing on him. “No, m’lord.”

  “There’s an opening over in one of the university’s kitchens. Four silvers a month and room and board. If you’re interested, it’s yours. Although if the thought of cooking for so many is daunting—”

  “M’lord,” she interrupted, pulling herself up to her full but short height. “I have overseen seven-course dinners hosting a hundred nobles. I can handle swaggering boys.”

  Cedric’s expression remained dignified. “Glad to hear it. Go to the university’s north office tomorrow and tell them your name. They’ll give you more information.”

  Old Doris’s mouth dropped, and she looked to me for confirmation. I nodded encouragingly.

  “Yes, yes, m’lord! I’ll go right after breakfast’s served. Thank you—thank you so much.”

  “Well, that’s lucky,” I told him, once we were alone again. I certainly wouldn’t say so, but I thought it was incredibly kind of him to offer such a thing, let alone notice her. Most didn’t. “Lucky that there was an open position.”

  “There isn’t, actually,” he said. “But I’ll stop by and talk to the office today. By the time I’m done, they’ll have an opening.”

  “Mister Thorn, something tells me you could sell salvation to a priest.”

  He smiled at the old ad
age. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

  We reached the garden and were nearing the exit when he halted again. An expression of disbelief crossed his face, and I turned toward what had caught his eye. My poppies painting.

  “That’s . . . Peter Cosingford’s Poppies. I saw it in the National Gallery. Except . . . ?” He trailed off, face full of confusion as he took in the canvas and the pigments beside it.

  “It’s a copy. My attempt at a copy. I have others. It’s just something I do for fun.”

  “You make copies of great works for fun?” Belatedly, he added, “My lady?”

  “No, Mister Thorn. That’s what you do.”

  The smile on his face was genuine, and I found I liked it better than the show ones. “Well, I’m pretty sure I could never copy you.”

  We’d reached the front gate, and his words made me come to a halt. It was less about their meaning than the way he’d said them. The tone. The warmth. I tried to think of a witty retort, but my normally quick mind had frozen up.

  “And if you won’t take offense at me speaking openly . . .” he added quickly.

  “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

  “It’s just . . . well, I’m a little disappointed I probably won’t ever get a chance to see you again.” Perhaps realizing that was too open, he gave a hasty bow. “Farewell, and best of luck to you, my lady.”

  One of the guards outside the gate unlocked it for him, and I watched him walk out the gate, admiring the way the velvet coat hugged his body.

  “But you will be seeing me again,” I murmured. “Just wait.”

  Chapter 3

  The plan had been forming in the back of my mind ever since Ada had tearfully signed her contract. I had a chance to outsmart the bad things looming over me. And, as my father had advised, I needed to act quickly. As more and more details became clearer, my excitement grew, and it was all I could do not to shout it to the heavens.

  Mastering myself, I walked quickly—but sedately—out of the garden, back to the drawing room, where Ada sat morosely. I dodged two servants lugging my grandmother’s chaise lounge and was glad Cedric hadn’t seen that. It looked like we were being looted.

  “Well, you must be excited,” I said cheerfully to Ada. “Such an exciting opportunity ahead of you.”

  She rested her chin in her hands. “As you say, my lady.”

  I sat down beside her, feigning astonishment. “It’s a great thing for you.”

  “I know, I know.” She sighed. “It’s just . . . it’s just . . .” Her attempts at self-control failed utterly, and tears ran down her cheeks. I offered her a silk handkerchief. “I don’t want to go to a strange land! I don’t want to sail across the Sunset Sea! I don’t want to get married!”

  “Then don’t go,” I said. “Do something else when Grandmama and I leave. Get another job.”

  She shook her head. “I signed the contract. And what can I do? I’m not like you, my lady. I can’t just walk away. I don’t have the means, and no other noble families are hiring—at least not at this level. I’ve looked.”

  Walk away? Did she really think I could? Ada looked at my ancestry and wealth as if that was power, but really, a commoner had more freedom than me. Which was why, perhaps, I needed to become one.

  “You’re the Countess of Rothford. Someone with a name like that can’t move among the nameless.”

  “What would you do then? If you had the means?”

  “If I wasn’t working here?” She paused to wipe her nose. “I’d go to my family in Hadaworth. I have cousins there. They have a nice dairy farm.”

  “Hadaworth’s as far north as you can get,” I reminded her. “That’s not an easy journey either.”

  “There’s no ocean!” she exclaimed. “It’s still in Osfrid. And there are no savages there.”

  “You’d rather work on a dairy farm than marry an Adorian adventurer?” Admittedly, this played into my plans better than I’d expected. But it sounded so comical, I couldn’t help but ask, “How did you even end up being referred to this Glittering Court?”

  “Lady Branson’s son John attends the university with him—Master Cedric. Lord John heard him talking about how he needed pretty girls for some task his father had set him. Lord John knew you were disbanding the household and asked his mother if there were any girls who needed a place to go. When she approached me . . . well, what could I do?”

  I took her hand in an unusual show of informality between us. “You’ll go to Hadaworth. That’s what you’ll do.”

  Ada gaped, and I led her up to my bedroom where other maids were sorting clothes. I sent them off to new tasks and then produced some topaz earrings from my jewelry box.

  “Here,” I said, handing them over to Ada. “Sell them. More than enough to buy passage with a reputable group traveling to Hadaworth.” I’d expected her to have some greater lifelong dream, one I might not be able to afford. This was a bargain.

  Her eyes widened. “My lady . . . I . . . I can’t. I can’t take these.”

  “You can,” I insisted, my own heart racing. “I, uh, can’t bear the thought of you being miserable. I want you to be with your family and find happiness. You deserve it.” That wasn’t entirely a lie . . . but my true motivations were hardly so altruistic.

  She clutched the earrings in her hands, and hope started to bloom on her face. “I—no. I can’t. That contract! That’s binding. They’ll find me and—”

  “I’ll take care of it—no need to worry. I’ll get you out of it. I can do those kinds of things, you know. But to make sure it will all, um, work out, you need to leave now. Right away. It’s just after midday. Most of the traveling merchants will be finishing business and heading north soon. And then you need to disavow all knowledge of the Glittering Court. Never, ever tell anyone they approached you.”

  Her eyes were huge. “I won’t, my lady. I won’t. Never a word. And I’ll go now—as soon as I pack.”

  “No, don’t. I mean, don’t take too much. Pack lightly. You can’t look like you’re leaving for good. Act like you’re just going off on an errand.” I didn’t want anyone noting her departure, possibly stopping her and asking her questions.

  She nodded at the wisdom of my words. “You’re right, my lady. Of course you are. Besides, with these, I can buy new clothes when I reach Hadaworth.”

  Upon my advice, she gathered only a few small things: a change of clothes, a family locket, and a pack of Deanzan cards. She flushed, seeing my raised eyebrow at that last one.

  “It’s just a lark, my lady. We read the cards for fun. People always have.”

  “Until the Alanzans made them a key part of their religion,” I said. “The priests are burning them these days. Don’t get yourself arrested as a heretic.”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t worship demons! Or trees!”

  Everything else she left behind. The household was so busy getting ready for the move that no one paid us a second glance as we sneaked around about our tasks. I took her remaining possessions—which weren’t much, only a few items of clothing—back to my room and hid them while I covertly saw her off. She startled me with a quick, highly inappropriate hug, tears shining in her eyes.

  “Thank you, my lady. Thank you. You’ve saved me from a terrible fate.”

  And you may have done the same for me, I thought.

  Upon my instructions, she walked casually out the front gate as though she were just going on a market errand. I don’t think the sentry on duty even noticed her leaving. She was invisible, something I couldn’t even comprehend . . . yet. As soon as she was gone, I returned to my painting in the garden, trying for all the world to look as though I were going about my usual attempts to pass the time while the rest of the household labored. Whenever I could work it into conversation with other servants, I mentioned casually that Ada had left for a new position and ho
w wonderful it was that it had been arranged for her. Everyone knew someone had come asking about her before, but no one knew the details of that conversation. Many other servants had moved on already, so her departure was nothing new.

  As evening wore on, word came that my grandmother and Lady Branson had been detained for dinner while out visiting a friend. That development couldn’t have suited me better, though I did have a moment of pause when I realized I might never see Grandmama again. We’d exchanged harsh words that morning, but that didn’t diminish my love for her . . . or hers for me. Everything she’d done in this mess with Lionel had been to benefit me, and there would be a huge fallout when it disintegrated.

  Don’t falter now, I told myself. I took deep breaths, forcing calm. Grandmama can deal with whatever happens. And when the scandal dies down, she’ll live with Lady Branson and her daughter. She’ll be much happier there than under Lady Dorothy’s close supervision.

  Even if we were apart, there was still the chance Grandmama might very well walk through my door, some far-off day. But oh, how she’d worry about me. I hoped that if—no, when—we met again, she’d understand why I’d had to do this. I couldn’t marry into a life of luxury if it meant leaving my soul at the door.

  After dinner, I complained of a headache and retired to my room. It was about the only reason I could have to be alone, and even that wasn’t easy. As soon as I’d shooed my doting maids away, I changed out of the fine silk dress I’d worn for dinner and put on Ada’s simpler linen one—which gave me some difficulty. I usually had maids helping me in and out of my clothes and wasn’t accustomed to managing buttons without extra hands. Ada’s dress was dark blue in color, with no ornamentation. The white chemise I put on under it was equally plain. I’d never truly noted until then how drab my ladies’ clothing really was. Still, it would help conceal me, as did the gray hooded cloak I wore over it. I packed the rest of her clothing into a small satchel and then hurried down a narrow servants’ staircase little used this time of night. After ascertaining no one was around, I slipped out a back door.