The Importance of Being Emily (9 page)

“Go,” Simon ordered. “Tell them Farrell is dead and bring the doctor.”

“The lantern is broken, I can’t see the stairs.”

“Here.” He withdrew his pocket watch, and it burst into the same white glow that covered the sword. I wondered what manner of spell accomplished that as I took it from him, clutching the chain tightly, and then I rose and hurried away. The stairs whined in protest as I charged up them, and I banged on the door.

“Mr. Farrell is dead! Please, open up!” I shouted. The door swung open, and I squinted in the flood of light. “Dr. Bennett?”

“Let me help you.” The doctor reached toward the bite, and I batted his hand away.

“No! Help Michael,” I insisted. Ignoring my protest, he tried again, so I grabbed his hand and hauled him after me down the stairs. Healing energy travelled up my arm, a reminder that Bennett was a powerful witch.

“Miss Wright, slow down,” he warned. It was a sensible request, and I tried to comply. After all, Dr. Bennett wouldn’t do anyone good if he fell down the stairs and hurt himself. When he spotted Michael, he dropped my hand and hurried to his side.

“Doctor, I can lift the rack if you can pull him out from under it,” Simon said.

“Of course. Miss Wright, please hold my bag,” Bennett replied.

I nodded, and he handed me his leather satchel. Clutching the bag to my chest, I struggled to catch my breath. My heart pounded fast and anxious, and the pocket watch swung back and forth in my trembling hand, doing little to keep back the darkness. Simon took hold of the wine rack and lifted, and the wood groaned, popped and snapped as it moved. Dr. Bennett grabbed Michael’s shoulders and dragged him free, and I gasped at the sight of his bloodied body. He rolled Michael onto his back, and Michael groaned again, my shawl still clutched to his chest. The doctor took the bag from me, opened it and picked through it for spell components.

“No,” I sobbed. Had I been wrong? Was Michael meant to die tonight and not during the ritual to become a chronicler? Oh, why had I let him accompany us? If he had remained upstairs, he would be perfectly fine…though it might be me crushed beneath the fallen rack. Michael had saved my life.

I tried to kneel at his side, but Simon caught me and stopped me. “Let Bennett work.”

“But—”

“The doctor will heal him. Let him work,” Simon repeated. I struggled for a moment, but then I relented, unable to do anything other than watch as the witch cast his spells. My vision shifted, and while Bennett’s aura blazed with power, Michael’s fluctuated. It was as though I could see his struggle in the fitful sputtering of his energy, and he remained determined to live.

“He is stable enough to move. Can you carry him?” Dr. Bennett asked Simon.

“Yes.”

“We will take him back to his room for proper treatment.”

Simon bent and picked Michael up as easily as he would a child, and I blinked in surprise. I supposed it shouldn’t have been shocking, considering all the unusual abilities Simon had displayed, including the ability to grow claws like a shapeshifter. The doctor and I followed close behind as Simon walked away, and our arrival in the hallway caused quite a commotion.

“What happened?” Lord Willowbrook demanded.

Simon and Dr. Bennett ignored him, leaving me with the awkward task of explaining. “Michael was injured during the fight. Dr. Bennett is going to treat him in Michael’s room,” I said over my shoulder.

“You are also injured,” Lord Willowbrook pointed out.

Raising my hand to my neck, I felt a warm trickle of blood. “Oh. Yes. I suppose the doctor will see to that too. You may wish to send someone to see to Mr. Farrell’s remains. Someone with a strong constitution.”

Lord Willowbrook blustered a bit, but he was soon left behind as Simon unerringly continued onward. We reached the rooms that Simon and Michael shared, and I hurried to open the doors. I followed them into Michael’s room, ignoring the sensible voice that scolded me for so boldly entering a gentleman’s bedroom, and watched as Simon laid him atop the bed.

“Out, both of you,” Bennett ordered. “I’ll yell if I need assistance.”

“I don’t want to leave him,” I argued.

“Michael will be fine. We will wait outside.” Simon took my arm and led me away, leaving no room for argument.

In the sitting room again, I stood frozen, unsure of what to do. I stared at the closed door, oblivious to Simon’s presence until he touched the bite and I flinched.

“I can heal that,” he said.

“Oh. Please do.”

The skin tingled as he ran his fingers over it, and the wound stopped bleeding. “We should clean up as well,” he suggested. “Michael will be quite upset if he sees you like this.”

Nodding, I followed him into his room. I glanced into the dressing mirror and was startled by the amount of blood that coated my skin and stained my dress. There was nothing I could do about the dress at the moment, but I cleaned what I could in the washbasin. Simon looked politely away as I did, and I watched his reflection in the mirror.

“There must be some way we can share him,” I blurted.

“Pardon?” Simon turned to me, seeming surprised by my outburst.

“I meant, there must be some way that Michael can be both your student and my husband. I won’t ask him to give up his studies or his work with the Order. I can’t deny that I would like to, but I know he would not be happy. Though I do not share the obsession, I understand a librarian’s need for his studies. I have been surrounded by them all of my life.”

“I see. You do realize that if he remains with the Order, there will come a time where you will be parted from each other. Michael will surely outlive you, and losing one’s soul mate…he may die from the grief of it.”

“Soul mates or not, many people are overcome with grief at losing a spouse. What matters is having someone to aid in overcoming that grief. You will help him, won’t you? You are his mentor.”

Simon nodded slowly. “That I am.”

“Then it is settled.” I rose, squaring my shoulders. “I understand that you do not care for me, but I am willing to be civil if you will do the same.” I extended my hand to shake his, something I would never do under normal circumstances, and after a moment’s pause he clasped my hand.

“Very well.” When he released my hand he peered at me, and then crossed to his wardrobe and produced a jacket. “Here. I believe your shawl may be beyond repair, and you look cold. We should also send for something for you to eat. You may feel some ill effects from your blood loss.”

“Thank you.” Surprised by his concern, I slipped the jacket on. I returned to the sitting room while he cleaned up as well. My fingers were numb as I folded my hands in my lap, and I watched Michael’s door. The mumbling chant of spellwork sounded within, but there was little other sign of activity. Witches relied upon spoken spells, a little like summoners did, but with more variety—and less dangerous consequences, of course.

A knock sounded at the door, and since Simon was still within his room I decided to answer it. I discovered my father in the hallway. Stepping aside, I allowed him to enter. “Dr. Bennett is seeing to Michael—Mr. Black,” I corrected, my face flushing slightly. “Mr. St. Jerome is currently seeing to his wounds.”

“What are you doing here?” Father asked.

“I am waiting to hear of Mr. Black’s condition.”

“Is that blood?”

I glanced down and noticed that though the majority of the stain was hidden beneath my borrowed jacket, a bit of it peeked from between the lapels. “Yes, it is. I was bitten by Mr. Farrell, but I feel quite well now.”

“Why would Mr. Farrell bite you?”

“Because he was the master necromancer. But Mr. St. Jerome killed him, and everyone is safe now.”

Father was not comforted by my calm demeanor. His eyes widened in horror, and he shook his head. Exasperated, he ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Emily…I cannot believe that you involved yourself in this. You recklessly risked your life. How could you do such a thing?”

“I had to. I was the only one who could see him.”

He shook his head again. “Well, now the matter is finished, and you should return to your room. Your sisters are worried. Let us go.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I am staying here until I know that Michael is safe,” I insisted.

“We can see to it that a messenger updates you on his condition. It isn’t appropriate for you to remain here.”

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving.” To emphasize my point, I returned to my chair and sat down. “You’re welcome to join me, if you wish.”

“You would risk your reputation—”

“I love him,” I said simply.

The admission startled my father, but it settled in my heart with bittersweet contentment. I loved Michael. I had grown fond of him while we sat together discussing silly things like the finer points of properly storing spell books, and that fondness turned to desire at the first brush of his lips against mine. But knowing that he would fight for me—that he would put himself in harm’s way to save me—made me love Michael. I wanted to fight for him in return. For a chance at a future with him, even if that future could only be a few short years in the sun before I lost him to the night.

I took a deep breath, and then smiled bravely. “Honestly, Father, Michael is the only one interested in marrying me now. I doubt he will be scandalized that I demanded to wait to hear his condition.”

He blinked. “Marrying you?”

Simon’s door opened, and he stepped into the room. “Indeed. I believe Mr. Black will be asking for your blessing to marry Emily as soon as he recovers. You’re welcome to wait with us now, or if you would prefer it, he can speak with you in the morning.”

“This is quite a development. You have no objection to your apprentice marrying my daughter?”

“None at all,” Simon replied. I resisted the urge to see if he told the truth and decided to trust his words. “They are soul mates. It would be wrong to separate them.”

Father rubbed his eyes wearily. “I think I will wait to speak with him in the morning, and you can explain the entire story then. I fear I am too tired to comprehend it now.”

“Thank you, Father.” I smiled.

“Just please return to your room when you can, before Josephine sends Thomas to hunt you down, throw you over his shoulder and carry you back.”

“I will do my best to avoid that,” I assured him. Father kissed my hair affectionately and retreated from the room.

Simon and I sat in silence that was strained but amiable—we were both concerned about Michael’s welfare. I almost wished for something to occupy my hands like knitting or needlework, but I hoped that I wouldn’t wait long enough to need it. When Dr. Bennett finally emerged from Michael’s room, I tried not to pounce on him for answers.

“Mr. Black will be fine. He endured a number of cuts and bruises and broke several ribs, but thankfully no organs were punctured. He is resting now, and should rest tomorrow as well,” Dr. Bennett proclaimed. I sighed in relief, and Simon nodded. “Do either of you need attending to?”

“No, thank you,” I replied.

“I am well. I assume that I will not be able to feed from him while my apprentice is recovering,” Simon commented.

“I would advise against it.”

The chronicler frowned slightly, but he nodded. “Very well.”

“You may speak with him now, but not for too long. He needs as much rest as possible. I will return and check on him in a few hours. Please send for me if you feel his condition is changing for the worse.”

“Of course. Thank you, Doctor,” Simon said.

“A quick word, Miss Wright?” Dr. Bennett asked. I nodded, watching Simon leave. The doctor glanced in the direction of Michael’s room and quirked an eyebrow. “Am I correct in assuming that you will not take me up on my offer?”

“Yes. I thank you for it, but it appears I have other plans.”

“I will wish you good luck then.” Dr. Bennett bowed, and then left, freeing me to rush to Michael’s side.

He looked pale against the mountain of pillows, as did his hands where they were folded atop his chest. I assumed he wore a nightshirt, for it was a different color than the shirt he wore earlier. Most of his body was concealed beneath the coverlet, but his eyes were bright when he spotted me, and he smiled. I hurried to his side and sat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand over his. Michael moved so that my hand was between his, resting above his heart.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am,” I assured him.

“I’m afraid your shawl is dead,” Michael informed me, and I laughed.

“That is fine. It met a valiant end.”

Simon stood next to me, staring down at his apprentice. “How do you feel?”

“Fortunate to be alive. And glad that it’s over. It is over, yes? Farrell is dead?”

“Farrell is dead,” Simon confirmed.

“Good. What happens now?”

The chronicler placed a hand upon my shoulder, and I glanced up at him. “Well, in the morning I suggest you speak with Mr. Wright about gaining his permission to marry his daughter.”

My face heated with a blush, and I turned my attention back to Michael, whose eyes widened in surprise. “Are you releasing me from my duties?”

“No. Miss Wright and I discussed it, and I feel we can
share
you, as she put it. We can postpone your ritual for a few more years. There is no need to rush into it. After all, you are several years younger than I was when I became a chronicler.”

“I don’t have any money to support a wife or a family,” Michael said. “Where would we live?”

“I have money. Not much, but it would be enough to start a life with,” I informed him.

“You could continue to live with me, in my house. As you yourself have noted, I only use the library and my own room.” Simon looked down at me with a slight smile. “Michael called it ‘a shocking waste of a perfectly respectable home’.”

I nodded, considering his words. It wasn’t quite the home I pictured, but it would suffice. It would just be rather like living with an ill-tempered, demanding uncle. One who happened to drink blood.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss the matter further. But not for too long,” he scolded. “Remember what your father warned about your sister’s husband.”