Silver in the Blood (15 page)

“No?” Lou wavered a little, then straightened again. “I shall pay you.” She reached into her pocket for Radu's coins.

“Yes, you will pay me. But I will take the letter to the young English lord at Poiana.”

“No, he's staying in Bucharest,” Lou insisted.

“
Poiana
,” the man said loudly and slowly. “Yesterday, my brother helped a young English lord find Peles Castle in Poiana. The other man in the carriage, he called this English boy Lord Johnny. They said, they hoped the food is better than Crown and Cross, when they paid my brother.”

“Are you certain?”

The man glared at her. He snatched two of the coins from her hand. “Keep the rest. Maybe you will need me again.”

“Here.” Lou handed him two more silver coins. “If the man in Poiana isn't Lord Harcastle, I want you to send this letter to the Crown and Cross in Bucharest.”

The man raised one eyebrow, and then let out a blast of laughter. “Silver in the hand, silver in the blood, but steel in the bones? Very nice.” He shoved the coins into one pocket, the letter into another, and then stalked off.

Lou went back through the gate, which she had to leave open because it was too heavy for her to close by herself, and then hurried up the treacherous drive to the house. When she was halfway across the main hall, her mother fluttered out of the sitting room.

“There you are, darling!” She grasped Lou's arms, squeezing with her soft little hands that were surprisingly strong. “Don't you just adore it? I'd forgotten how wonderful the old house was! And the smell of the trees, and the earth! So romantic!” Her mother heaved a little sigh, her eyes far away. Then they sharpened on Lou's face. “Were you just outside?”

“Yes,” Lou said, seeing no point in lying. She was a terrible liar.

“Why?”

“Radu said that sometimes Gypsies hang around the gate. I wanted to see one, but there isn't anyone there.” Which was not a lie. There wasn't anyone there. Not anymore.

Her mother shuddered. “Stay away from the Gypsies, darling; they aren't our kind of people.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Lou said with relief.

“They are far better society than Prince Mihai,” Lou's father said, coming out of the sitting room behind her mother.

There was a dark cloud in her father's eyes, and Lou felt her knees begin to shake. Perhaps there was no point in waiting to hear from Lord Johnny, and she and Dacia should simply beg her father to take them away right now.

“We're about to have tea, dear,” Lou's mother prattled on, ignoring her husband. “And then we're off to tour Castle Bran! You'll simply love it! The most homey little castle you can imagine!”

“I'm sure Prince Mihai's illustrious ancestor Vlad the Impaler found it very homey when he spent a decade there under arrest,” Lou's father said coldly.

Lou's mother let go of her arms, a hard look on her plump, pretty face as she rounded on her husband. “And how would you know anything about that? You are not Romanian!”

“No, thank goodness, I am not,” Mr. Neulander said, his face just as hard.

Lou took a step backward, away from both her parents. She was on the verge of crying, suddenly, and clenched her fists to stop the tears. She had cried far too much in the past few days.

“Which is why I raised my children to be Americans,”
Mr. Neulander continued. “And which is why, when our tours of Bran and Peles are over, I will be taking our children back to Bucharest. And from Bucharest we will return to New York.”

“Our sons will be returning to Bucharest with you,” Maria agreed. “But Louisa will remain here.”

Lou opened her mouth to protest, and her father shot her a look.

“LouLou should not be here. Dacia should not be here,” he said in a low, intense voice. “I would like to insist that you should not be here, and yet more and more, you seem to be turning into one of
them
, and so I will not force you to return with us. But I will take my daughter and niece away from here, if it's the last thing I do.”

“It will be.”

So silently had Lady Ioana entered the hall that Lou's legs jolted and nearly threw her to the floor when her grandmother spoke. The old woman was standing in the doorway of another room, the light from a window behind her making her white headdress glow.

“Dacia and Maria Louisa belong with us. They belong
to
us. And when you see why, you will not want to take them away. Should you try anyway, out of some misguided sense of honor, you will be removed by force.”

“You can't take my daughter—” Lou's father began, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

“She isn't your daughter,” Lady Ioana announced.

Lou felt a small cry escape her lips and choked it back.

“She is Maria's daughter,” Lady Ioana went on, not looking
at Lou. “This has been explained to you. By all means, take those horrible boys and go. They are yours. Today, tomorrow, it doesn't matter to me. But don't think to try to take the girls.

“You will not long survive my wrath.”

Lou looked at her father, willing him to scoff at the old woman's claims. But his face was white with rage or fear or both, and instead he let out an anguished cry of his own and turned his back on his wife, and Lou, and fled.

Lou's legs did collapse, and when Lady Ioana and Maria turned their gaze on her, she was clutching at the tight weave of the Turkish carpet and sobbing.

“Get up, you foolish girl, and wash your face,” Lady Ioana ordered. “You are stronger than this, and you must be stronger still.

“In two nights you will find out why you must forget your father.”

 

THE DIARY OF MISS DACIA VREEHOLT

12 June 1897

Something is horribly wrong with Lou, and she will not speak to me. She won't speak to anyone. Lady Ioana said something to her, I know that. And I fear that her parents have quarreled. I certainly hope that they weren't tactless enough to quarrel in front of her. Really, they should know by now that Lou is far too sensitive for that sort of thing! Long before this vile journey, I was convinced that Lou and I should be given a place of our own. No one else in this family has a care for her delicate nature, and I would do far better without my parents and Aunt Kate always shadowing me as well!

Tea was ridiculously awkward. Uncle Cyrus not present, Aunt Maria weepy, Lou silent, and Lady Ioana gloating. Still, everyone else was convinced that a visit to Castelul Bran will be heaven on earth. More later on that, if true. Or if not.

Note: perhaps if this whole thing turns out as horrible as I fear it will, I can use it as leverage in negotiating a private household. There is a darling apartment on Fifth Avenue that would suit the two of us admirably.

Dacia was in love.

“I didn't know there was such a thing as a livable castle,” Dacia marveled, gazing out over the green, wooded mountains from one of Castle Bran's balconies. The sun was shining, making the white walls of the castle positively glow, and plotting and treason seemed impossible. “But look at this place, Lou! Couldn't you just live here forever? It's adorable!”

Lou murmured something in agreement, her eyes wide.

Castle Bran sat on a hill overlooking a pass through the Carpathians, where it had been built to serve as the gateway between Wallachia and Transylvania. The walls were plastered and painted white inside and out, and the roof had been newly retiled. The long, low rooms were more cozy than regal, with built-in window seats, and beautifully tiled stoves in the main rooms to keep them warm in the winter. There were ranks of balconies and terraces on every level, looking out over forests and mountains.

“Look at this! There's a miniature sitting room on this terrace!”

Dacia had just spotted the enclosed benches under the eaves. She ducked under the low beams that supported the roof and sank down onto one of the benches before she realized that there was someone already there, sitting across from her.

“Miss Vreeholt,” said Lord Johnny politely.

Dacia let out a little scream and rose, hitting her head on the low ceiling. She dropped back down onto the bench and stared at Lord Johnny in shock. What on earth was he doing here?

His blue eyes studied her intensely. “Are you well?”

“Am
I
well?” Her voice rose and cracked. “What are you doing here? I'm not well, I'm all in a muddle . . . but what are you . . . I just sent you a letter!”

Dacia was embarrassed to find herself blushing, and seemingly unable to put together a coherent sentence. She had forgotten how handsome Lord Johnny was up close, with his clear blue eyes and windswept brown hair.

“It's probably on its way to Bucharest right now, yet here you are!” She knew she sounded ridiculous, but she just couldn't stop her mouth in time. Saying that you were going to enlist the aid of a handsome young nobleman was one thing, but sitting face-to-face with him, trying to explain what was happening, was another matter entirely. “The letter, you know. You've missed it. You will miss it.”

“This letter?” Lord Johnny reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Dacia was almost as surprised to recognize her own stationery as she was to see Lord Johnny sitting here in Castle Bran.

“How did you get it so quickly? We sent it to Bucharest only a few hours ago.” She reached for it, realized it was addressed to him anyway, and pretended she was just straightening her cuffs. The dragon bracelet rolled around her wrist, and she tucked it into her sleeve, not wanting to tell Lord Johnny who had given it to her.

“A Gypsy brought me your letter just before tea time,” Lord Johnny said. “I determined to come here and wait for you as soon as I read it. The Gypsy said that you would be taking the tour this afternoon.”

“How did he know that?”

Dacia felt strange, as though she were standing outside of her body. She no longer felt fluttery around Lord Johnny, and the urge to flirt had left her completely. How had the Gypsies known where she would be? Were they spying on her, too? Just like the servants? And probably Radu and Aunt Kate? She put one hand to her head.

“Dacia,” Lord Johnny said in a low voice. Just that. Just her name.

She looked at him very seriously and he gave her a tight little nod, encouraging her to say what she needed to say. He wasn't spying for Lady Ioana. He hadn't changed, become a stranger, since last they spoke.

“Our Romanian relations are not . . . what we have expected,” Dacia began. “They are not common, or otherwise socially unacceptable, but instead they are . . . frightening.” As soon as she said
it she realized it was true. She'd never been one to take fright around strangers before, but now . . . “They seem to enjoy frightening me and Lou, especially. There have also been threats of harm to any one of us who puts a toe out of line. It has driven a rift between Lou's parents, and we want to leave before anything worse happens. Can you help us?” She held out one hand to him.

Lord Johnny took her hand, his own palm very warm through her gloves. “We can help you, but it's probably not the way that you think,” Lord Johnny said.

Dacia wanted to shout. More riddles! “What do you mean?” she said, doing her best to keep her voice level. “
We?
Who? How can you help us?”

Dacia wanted to run away, just run off into the mountains and never look back. It was all too much. Yet at the same time, she was very aware of the smell of Lord Johnny's cologne, and the warm comfort of the thick-grained wooden bench beneath her hand. She could see Lou and Radu over by the terrace wall. They had seen whom she was speaking with, and drawn back.

“I'm here with a man named Arkady. Theo Arkady. He was at the opera the other night. We're trying to find out some information. Once we have that, we can help you.”

“What information? And do you have any idea what that man has said to Lou?” Dacia lowered her voice on this second question, not wanting to call any attention to them. She hoped that Radu would create a diversion if Aunt Kate or Aunt Maria came to see where they had gone.

“Theo told me that he'd spoken to your cousin in Paris, and
he wishes me to convey his most heartfelt apologies. It was most indelicate of him,” Johnny said.

“Most indelicate!” Dacia threw up her hands in indignation. “Did he tell you what he said?” She knew that it really didn't matter that much in the grand scheme of things, but she just couldn't let it go. Her Lou had been insulted, and she needed to know that it wouldn't happen again, if they were going to accept this Arkady's help along with Lord Johnny's.

“He didn't actually, but Dacia, I'm sorry, I need to tell you something before we are interrupted.” Lord Johnny leaned out of their little nook to look around the terrace.

“That's our cousin Radu,” Dacia said. “He can be trusted. For the most part.”