The Glittering Court (16 page)

A group of burly men with guns strode up to the dock, and Jasper
walked down to meet them. I gathered by what little of the conversation I could hear that these were men hired by Jasper to see us around safely. While I was used to being escorted in Osfro, seeing that squad of rough-and-tumble men drove home what a different world we were in. I'd dreamed of the excitement and adventure of Adoria, but this was still a dangerous and untamed place.

When we were given permission to leave, Miss Bradley lined us up and put me at the head of the line. “You're the diamond,” she explained. “You must be the lead.”

I stared, speechless. I didn't fear the attention, exactly, but after everything I'd been through, this seemed like too much. Before I could protest, Mira asked, “Why are you putting me third?”

Miss Bradley fixed her with a look both hard and sad. “Because you
are
third now. Everyone else above you was on the
Gray Gull
.”

The world swayed around me, as thoughts of Tamsin and that ship bobbing like a toy filled my mind.

“Adelaide,” said Miss Bradley. “You need to go. Now.”

I shook my head, rooted to the spot, and then I felt Cedric's steady presence beside me. “Follow me,” he said. “We're just going straight to my father, that's all. Keep your eyes ahead.”

He walked down the dock, and after a few deep breaths, I worked up the resolve to follow. My legs felt unsteady at first, accustomed to weeks in a rocking ship. Solid ground had become a foreign thing. I kept my eyes focused on Cedric's back as I put one foot in front of the other and tried to block out the gawkers around me. Even though I knew there was a whole line of other girls following me, I felt alone and vulnerable. Jasper, on the far side of the crowd, might as well have been miles away. His men had cleared a space where the dock ended, glaring threateningly at anyone who dared take a step closer.

But that didn't stop the whistles or catcalls. “Hey, girlie, hike up that skirt, and show us what a real jewel looks like!” and “Did they bring that Sirminican for the rest of us? When do I get my turn?” were only a few of the taunts. An angry flush swept over me, offering a small
warmth against the cold. My rage was directed not just at the uncouth men but also at Jasper. Surely there were better ways of acquiring husbands for us than parading us around like the livestock Mira had remarked upon. All that training and culture, the alleged improvement of our minds, meant nothing when we were put on display in this wild land and judged by our looks alone.

And yet, was it any different than when I'd been shown off in the grand ballrooms of Osfro? Would this always be a woman's lot?

I had half an urge to tear the expensive clothing and dishevel the carefully styled hair. Instead, I held my head high and followed the scarlet of Cedric's coat. I wished I hadn't packed his dagger away in my trunk—not because I intended to use it, but simply because feeling the cold blade against my skin seemed comforting.
I'm better than these people,
I told myself.
Not because of my bloodline—but because of my character.

At last, after what probably only lasted a few minutes, I made it to Jasper. He stood with more of his men and some carriages, which were thankfully enclosed. Jasper nodded in approval. “Excellent, excellent,” he said, beckoning us to the coaches. “I can already see the potential buyers. I suppose having half the set might drive up the prices.”

I came to a halt, my jaw dropping. Mira pushed me on, into the coach. “How can you ignore that?” I exclaimed to her as we took our seats. Surely even her tight control had its limits.

“I'm not ignoring it,” she said, rubbing her ankle. Fury simmered in her eyes. “But I pick my battles. Nothing can change what happened. Nothing's going to change his nature. But we can control our futures—that's what we must focus on.”

I leaned back against the seat, wrapping my arms around myself. Now that the tension of that terrible procession was gone, the cold was hitting me again. I strived to be as calm as Mira, but it was hard. I wanted to go back outside and scream at Jasper, letting out all the tumultuous emotions trapped within me.

But it wouldn't bring back Tamsin or the
Gray Gull
.

So I sat in seeming complacency, letting my feelings boil within me. Two other girls joined us, and the carriage started off. I'd noted the lack of cobblestone streets here, even in a busy part of the city. The storm we'd faced had brought rain here, and I could feel the carriage struggle through the irregular, muddy roads. Once, our driver had to stop and get one of our escorts to help release a stuck wheel.

By the time we reached our lodging, it was late afternoon. Our temporary home in Adoria was a house called Wisteria Hollow. It seemed small and plain after the venerable Blue Spring, but I was told that by Adorian standards, it was a grand residence. It boasted a rare three floors and had real glass windows, which were also uncommon in Adoria. The land had mostly been cleared around it, but a few apple trees grew prettily near the front door, as well as the wisteria that gave the place its name. The wisteria vines were brown, and the buds on the apple trees were barely discernible, unlike the fuller ones back in Osfrid. Adoria's more severe climate brought a slightly later spring.

Warmth hit us inside the house, and we were finally offered blankets and cloaks to shake off the cold. A middle-aged woman with tightly bound dark hair and a pointed chin waited in the foyer, along with a well-dressed older man in spectacles. He embraced Jasper and Cedric, and I realized this must be Charles Thorn. He beamed at all of us until Jasper murmured something in his ear. Charles paled, and I realized he was learning about the
Gray Gull
.

“This is a tragedy beyond words,” he said.

Jasper nodded but then shared his earlier revelation. “Indeed. It will increase the demand for this group.”

Cedric shot his father a withering look and then turned to Charles. “Uncle, we told the girls they could have some time before beginning their social season.”

“Yes, yes, certainly,” said Charles, nodding his head. “My poor jewels—of course you must recover. But then you will have such fun once the season begins! Your promenade was only a taste of the delights to come.”

Mira and I exchanged glances at that. Charles had seemed totally sincere. He might be more kindhearted than his brother, but he was also obviously more naïve about the glamorous lives we lived. I could understand why Jasper was the dominant force in this business.

“This is Mistress Culpepper,” said Miss Bradley, nodding to the woman with the pointed chin. This felt vaguely like my arrival at Blue Spring.

Mistress Culpepper looked us over with a critical eye. “No doubt many of you think the New World is a looser place, where you will be allowed to run wild. But not while I am in charge of this house. You will follow all rules I set and adhere to their every detail. There will be no inappropriate or uncouth behavior under my roof.”

I stared. Had she never seen the procession by the docks? Did she really think
we
were the ones who might be uncouth?

The Thorns and a few of the hired men had lodging in a downstairs wing. Our rooms were on the upper floors. We would've normally been placed three or four to a room, but with our numbers reduced, we were being roomed in twos. I was grateful I'd have privacy with Mira, but it only served as another slap in the face about Tamsin's fate.

“Change and rest,” Charles told us cheerily. “We'll have supper soon and then help you prepare for the social season to come. Then, my jewels, the
real
fun will begin.”

Chapter 13

I don't know if it was Jasper's intent or not, but our mourning period ended up being a good business move.

Our disappearance after that initial procession drove our prospective suitors into a frenzy. They'd seen us once and wanted to see more. Jasper, realizing the advantage this presented, became enigmatic about when our ball season would begin. Our mystique increased, and messengers constantly came on behalf of their masters, looking for more information. And soon, the masters themselves began to arrive.

I was one of the most despondent over the
Gray Gull
's loss, but even I couldn't keep my curiosity at bay. The Thorns had a private office downstairs but would meet prospective clients in a luxury sitting room with a high ceiling that was open on one side to a walkway above. Here, we could crouch in the shadows behind a slatted railing and covertly observe the goings-on below. With no other contact with the outside world, aside from outlandish stories about pirates and Icori that our guards carried to us, this became grand entertainment for us. I welcomed the distractions, though they could never keep Tamsin far from my thoughts.

Some of the suitors came with general inquiries, and the Thorns slipped into their best sales modes to suggest possible matches to these suitors. Cedric was excellent at this, and not even Jasper could fault him. I was reminded of the Cedric from our first meeting, rather than the troubled religious dissident I'd come to know.

“Well, Mister Collins, a magistrate like you needs to be especially
mindful of the kind of wife he chooses,” Cedric said to an inquiring gentleman one day. Several of us were crowded above, trying to get a good view. A magistrate was of particular interest to us.

“I've put it off,” the man admitted. He seemed to be older than us, mid-thirties if I had to guess. Cedric was handling the meeting alone, as was common. “I had been in talks with Harold Stone about his daughter, but then you arrived.”

“I know of Mister Stone,” Cedric said. “Good man, from what I hear. Successful farm, right? And I'm guessing his daughter is a pleasant, respectable girl, raised and educated at home with good values.”

“Yes . . .” Mister Collins spoke warily, uncertain of where Cedric was leading.

“But is a pleasant farmer's daughter really going to help get you where you need to go?”

“What . . . what do you mean?” asked Mister Collins.

Cedric gestured grandly. “Look at you. You're a man in your prime, your career still rising. Is magistrate the most you want to achieve? There are almost certainly higher posts in the government that you'd be in the running for—in Denham and in some of the other fledgling colonies where they need capable men the most. A man hoping to rise needs to stand out. He needs every advantage he can get—including his choice of wife.”

Mister Collins fell silent for several moments. “And you have someone in mind who would be suitable for this?”

Cedric's back was to me, but I could picture his winning smile. “I have several.” He picked up a stack of papers and rifled through them. “Why, there's Sylvia, a petite brunette who charms everyone she knows. Received very high marks in social planning—exactly who you'd want to arrange dinners and parties to impress your friends. And then we've got Rosamunde. Golden blonde hair. Excellent knowledge of history and political affairs. She can hold her own in any conversation with the elite classes—in a genteel, ladylike way, of course.”

Sylvia and Rosamunde, sitting near me, leaned forward eagerly.

“I do like blondes,” said Mister Collins grudgingly. “Is she pretty?”

“Mister Collins, I assure you, they're
all
pretty. Beautiful. Stunning. Men are still reeling from the day they arrived in Cape Triumph.”

“I wasn't there . . . but I've heard the stories.” Mister Collins took a deep breath. “How much would someone like this Rosamunde cost?”

“Well,” said Cedric, again going through the papers. I knew it was for show. He had all of our dossiers memorized and tended to make recommendations based on which girls simply hadn't been pitched to prospective clients, in an effort to give us all exposure. I had yet to be suggested. “Her
starting
price would be two hundred gold dollars.”

“Two hundred!” exclaimed Mister Collins. “She'd cost two hundred gold?”

“Her
starting
price would, due to her rank. That number can easily go up if enough gentlemen bid and want to catch her attention. Between you and me . . .” Cedric leaned toward the other man conspiratorially. “Well, there's been
a lot
of interest this week. Like you, many gentleman are partial to blondes.”

I'd only heard Cedric pitch Rosamunde as one of many other choices, but the idea that she was in demand was alluring to Mister Collins.

“That's a lot of money,” he said uncertainly.

“That's an investment,” corrected Cedric. I couldn't help but smile. He was so charming, so self-assured. He probably could have sold Mister Collins on buying ten wives. “Tell me, when the governor hosts a formal dinner and has a new position to fill, what will his wife—a baron's daughter, I hear—report back after conversing with Mister Stone's daughter? And should one of His Majesty's royal ambassadors visit, scrutinizing how well the New World is keeping pace with the old one, what will he say when he meets a farmer's daughter? Will she be able to discuss arts and music? Be well informed on the intricacies of Denham politics? You yourself are of middle-class upbringing, I understand. You've certainly surpassed that, but I imagine a young woman skilled in aristocratic ways could be
very
useful to you as you navigate political waters.”

Cedric's body language reminded me of some predatory animal, braced and ready for his prey to show a sign of weakness so that he could move in for the attack. Mister Collins fell silent once more. At last, he said, “May I see her?”

“Of course—at our opening ball, with everyone else. I'll make sure you're on our invitation list when we announce it.”

And that was how he left most of the men hanging, tantalizing them with the idea of a girl who was
perfect
for them but in demand by so many others. These gentlemen left consumed by the idea, soon imagining far more about us than Cedric could ever describe.

We'd been there about a week and a half when Cedric finally found a chance to pull me aside for a private conversation. “The painting and supplies are in the large cellar. Do you think you can find a chance to sneak in and finish?” The painting had been nearly complete when the storm hit, needing only a few last touches.

“If I can escape Mistress Culpepper. She watches everything we do—much more than Mistress Masterson ever did.”

He nodded. “I'll find a way to get her out one afternoon. Tell her we need some emergency cloth or supplies for some girl or another. It's not entirely hard to believe—the opening ball is at the end of this week.”

“Is it?” I asked. I'd known this lull couldn't last forever but was still startled.

“The announcement's being made tomorrow. This place'll be chaos as Mistress Culpepper gets you all ready. It should be easy enough for you to slip away. There'll be last-minute wardrobe problems and more men coming by to make another attempt at a private meeting before everyone gets a shot at you all.”

I gave him a sidelong look. “Why don't you ever pitch me?”

“What?”

“I've watched most of your meetings. You rotate through all the girls, making sure each one gets highlighted to some suitor or another. But never me.”

“I'm sure I have,” he said lightly. “You probably just missed those particular meetings.”

I found that unlikely. I'd watched almost all, and when I didn't, there was always some girl more than willing to rehash every single detail of the conversation. Before I could protest, Mistress Culpepper came hurrying into the dining room.

“Mister Thorn, there's a gentleman here to speak with you.” It was the first time I'd seen her look unsettled.

Cedric raised an eyebrow. “I didn't think we had any appointments this afternoon.”

“We don't, but sir, it's—it's the governor's son. Warren Doyle.”

That caught even Cedric off guard. “Well, then. I guess you'd better show him to the sitting room.” She hurried off, and he glanced at me. “And I suppose you'd better scurry off to your spy post.”

I flashed him a grin and left the room. As I went upstairs, I caught sight of Jasper nearly running into the house. Apparently, word of the governor's son's visit had reached him. He might normally have no problem letting Cedric handle meetings alone, but this was clearly one Jasper wanted to be at.

All the girls gathered on the walkway above, even Mira, who tended to skip these covert viewings. We craned our necks, hoping to get a glimpse of the suitor who had caused both Cedric and Jasper to take notice.

“Not bad,” murmured Clara. I had to agree. Warren Doyle was only a few years older than us—something of a relief, since many gray-haired gentlemen had graced our door. Even from this height, I could see a face with strong, handsome features and jet-black hair pulled back into the short fashionable tail popular on both sides of the Sunset Sea.

“Mister Doyle,” said Jasper, taking the newcomer's hand. “It is an honor.”

“Call me Warren, please. We might as well drop formalities since I plan on being quite straightforward here. It's how I am—and, well, I hope you'll forgive me. I'm no good with small talk.”

Jasper exchanged the briefest of looks with his son and then returned his smile to Warren. “Of course. Please—sit down.”

Warren did, clasping his hands in his lap. A daytime visit would have allowed more casual attire, but he was dressed formally in a russet coat and a vest of gold brocade. He could have attended our ball right now.

“I'm here about one of your girls. The top one—the one who led your procession, in the gray dress.”

I tensed.

“Do you mean Adelaide?” asked Cedric uncertainly.

“Is that her name?” asked Warren, brightening. “She
is
the best one, right? Isn't that how your ranking works? She had brown hair—well, a golden brown. Very lovely.”

Mira grinned beside me. “He got your hair right. That should make you happy.”

“‘Best' is a subjective term,” said Jasper delicately. “All of our girls are—”

Warren smiled kindly. “You don't need to use your usual tactics on me. You don't need to try to sell them all to me. I'm already sold. I want her. I
need
her. You see, I've been given governorship of the new colony of Hadisen.”

Jasper beamed, but I knew how he must be calculating. “Congratulations. That's an incredible accomplishment for a man of your age, if you don't mind me saying so.”

“Thank you,” said Warren, nodding eagerly. “I'm very, very fortunate. And that's why it's imperative I have an exemplary wife. She will be the first lady of the colony. Even in its rough stages, all will look to her as an example. And once we're truly established, she'll be the one in charge of all social affairs in my household. I need someone who excels in all areas—someone intelligent, cultured, and worthy of admiration. I assume, as your top girl—”

“Our diamond,” corrected Jasper. “We call her our diamond.”

“Your diamond then. I assume she must have surpassed all the
others in every test. If I am to succeed in this venture, I must have an incomparable lady.”

I could feel the eyes of my companions upon me, trying to gauge my reaction. Mostly, I was stunned. After never hearing my name come up, I was shocked at this turn of events. There could be no greater position than a governor's wife. And it hadn't escaped my notice that it had been my inner qualities and aptitude that caught his attention as much as my looks. Most of the men who'd come through here had made beauty a top priority.

“She is certainly incomparable,” said Jasper. He managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “And I'll tell you a secret—our opening ball is coming soon, so you only have to wait a few days to meet her.”

“I don't really need to meet her,” said Warren. “I'm sure she's exceptional. And I'd like to seal a marriage contract now.”

“That's not . . . how it works,” said Cedric stiffly. “The girls meet all potential suitors in our social season. Then they choose.”

Warren was undaunted. “I don't want to risk losing her to someone who might woo her with a lot of flash and no substance. I'll put out a price to make it worth your while for removing her early—one I might not be willing to match if I have to wait. One thousand gold if you do the deal right now.”

Some of the girls near me gasped. There'd never been a sum like that offered in the Glittering Court's history. It was double my starting fee.

Even Jasper couldn't believe it. “That is a very generous sum, Mister Doyle. Warren.”

“I know what I'm asking is unorthodox,” explained Warren, almost sheepishly. “And that's why I'm willing to compensate for altering your policy.”

“Understandable,” said Jasper, practically licking his lips. “And very considerate.”

“Our policy,” declared Cedric, shooting his father a warning glance, “is that she gets to see her options and choose. We can't just sell her behind her back.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” said Warren. He seemed a little taken aback by Cedric's tone. “I can meet her today and then seal our deal.”

“It would be a breach of our normal policy,” said Jasper. “But I'm sure, given the circumstance, there'd be no harm in her at least meeting him now and—”

“She gets to see her options and choose,” repeated Cedric. “It's in her contract. No preemptive deals.”