Dinah ticked off my charges with her fingers. “Negligence for losing your mittens. Deceit for not confessing it. Vanity for wearing such garish replacements. And theft for stealing them.”
“How . . . how can it be theft when it was our own stuff?”
“That cargo was off-limits to you,” said Samuel harshly. “It’s currently in our possession.”
“That makes it theft?” I looked between the two of them in disbelief. “That’s absurd, and you know it.”
Dinah pointed at my chair. “Take that over to the stove and wait until the rest of us finish. You won’t be eating this morning.”
I opened my mouth to protest and then thought better of it. Fine. If they were going to make me skip breakfast because of some trumped-up charges, I’d do it with dignity. I’d show them how a person with principles and strength really behaved.
But, oh, I was hungry.
The Coles carried on like it was an ordinary day, though everyone else at the table wore a glum look. “I read through your sermon on integrity,” Samuel mentioned to Gideon. “It’s some of your finest work.”
“Thank you,” mumbled Gideon, eyes on his food.
“I liked the way you explained how deception casts a shadow on families and communities. But for the most part, your sermon only focuses on how things like honesty and honor improve lives. Maybe consider adding in a passage from the punishment of King Linus to show where deceit leads.”
Gideon’s eyebrows rose. “King Linus died in a pit of scorpions.”
“Exactly. It’s important to motivate people.”
* * *
I wanted badly to speak to Gideon about what had happened last night and also to see if he could contrive any last-minute intervention before Vanessa’s punishment tomorrow. Dinah went to town with us, however, and I had no chance at privacy. Gideon parted from us in the square, after giving me a long, searching look. I responded with a pained smile and then turned toward the school.
“No, you’re not going there today,” said Dinah.
“Am I back to doing laundry?” Damaris and Winnifred had gone off to their usual assignments, but maybe someone else had been recruited for Vanessa’s former spot.
“No. Come with me.”
Dinah walked briskly across the square with a self-satisfaction I found unnerving. I followed her to a residential section and watched with growing dread as she knocked on the door of one of the larger houses. A woman I recognized in passing but hadn’t met answered and urged us inside. No introductions were made, and I wondered if I’d been assigned to help her. But as we passed through the exceptionally well-kept home, it didn’t look as though she needed much in the way of chores done.
At last, we reached the far side of the house, and I stepped into a room that appeared to be an addition to the original building. It had walls that were still rough and unfinished, and a dirt floor scattered with hay. A narrow rectangular window near the ceiling provided lighting in the same way the church’s windows did. This window was covered in greased paper instead of glass, however, creating a more muted illumination.
I took the strange room in and asked, “What is—”
The door slammed behind me. I was alone.
CHAPTER 17
I DOVE FOR THE DOORKNOB, BUT IT WAS LOCKED. “What’s going on? What is this?” I pounded on the door until splinters made me stop.
“This is your home for the next four days,” Dinah called from the other side. “Your place of solace to contemplate your wicked acts and pray for forgiveness. You didn’t really think forgoing breakfast was the only penance you’d pay for those mittens, did you?”
“Penance for mittens?” I kicked the door a few times. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t leave me in an empty room for four days over a pair of mittens.”
“Two pairs, technically. And the fact that you don’t realize how grave the situation is simply confirms why you should be here.”
“I want to talk to Gideon! He wouldn’t allow this.” He’d been subdued at breakfast, but I was positive he couldn’t have known this was coming. He wouldn’t have just sat there without protest.
“Gideon can’t help you, and once you’ve served your time, we’re moving you to another house so that you won’t be able to corrupt him with your seductive wiles anymore.”
“My seductive . . .” I couldn’t even stand to repeat it.
“Everything you’ll need is there. That’s all the food and water you’ll get, so ration wisely. You have books to inspire you and help contemplate the errors of your ways, so use them. If you’ve written a satisfactory confession and appeal for forgiveness, you’ll be allowed to go home in four days. You’ll then be confined to your new residence until the next holy day.”
Just like Vanessa, except I’d earned an extra day. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, knowing what Dinah would say next.
Or, at least, I thought I knew.
“You’ll sit outside the church before services with a sign proclaiming your guilt. Later, you’ll read your confession to the congregation, after which point you’ll remove your sign.” There was a pause. “And then you’ll have your hair shorn.”
I bolted upright. “What? Vanessa didn’t have to do that!”
“Vanessa wasn’t guilty of vanity. And this way, it’ll be a little more difficult for you to tempt innocent men.”
“Is that what this is bloody about? You being jealous of how Gideon feels about me? That he’s interested in me?”
“Don’t make it sound like he has a choice! You’ve used some sort of . . . beguiling . . . or whatever it is you learn at that school of yours. He’d never give you a second look if you hadn’t muddled his mind, and I’m going to free him from you.”
“Well, I’ve got some bad news for you. Getting me out of your house and cutting my hair isn’t going to make him fall in love with you! Nothing short of a miracle will, so maybe you’d better start copying some passages and see if you can shore up some goodwill with the angels.”
There was a much, much longer pause.
Then: “See you in four days.”
“Wait!” I beat on the door again, splinters be damned. “I didn’t seduce anyone! You can’t do this! Not over mittens!”
The silence that answered eventually convinced me that Dinah and the lady of the house had left. I raked a hand through my hair—which was apparently on borrowed time—and began pacing the small space. When Vanessa had been taken away, Samuel had said she had “modest accommodations.” Well, here they were. My four days’ worth of rations consisted of four slices of bread and a tub of water. A chamber pot sat in a corner of the room. In the opposite one, several holy texts were stacked neatly beside paper, pen, and ink. That was it. Nothing to sleep on. Nothing to warm me beyond the clothes I already wore. And with no candle or lantern, my light would depend on the sun shining through the window.
Famished from missing breakfast, I quickly ate a piece of bread and almost grabbed another without thinking. No. I dropped my hand. If they were really going to leave me here for four days, I’d have to be careful with it and the water. In fact, I should have eaten only half a piece and saved the rest for tonight. I took a few sips of water and vowed to ignore the bread until tomorrow.
But what to do now? I couldn’t bring myself to write that damned confession. What would they do to me if it wasn’t ready in time? Give me another four more days’ worth of meager supplies? Leave me to starve? I kicked at the wall in frustration, lost over what I should do. I’d put up with so much in Constancy. I thought I’d been patient. I thought I’d been reasonable—more than reasonable, really. And where had that left me?
I spent most of the day oscillating between despair and rage. I’d slump to the ground and curl up into myself, wishing I’d never set foot in Adoria or heard of the Glittering Court. But with enough time, I’d get fired up a
gain and walk the little room, shouting and banging. Based on the house’s orientation on the square, it seemed unlikely anyone would hear me. This room was in the back, and the building was long. In fact, recalling the larder and hall I’d passed through to get here, I doubted even the house’s residents would hear me.
At last, as the light began to fade, I finally made use of the paper—to write a letter to Merry. I tucked it into my pocket when I finished, allowed myself one bite of tomorrow’s bread, and then watched the room sink into darkness.
The dirt floor bothered me less than the chill did. The room had no insulation, and gaps in the paper window’s seal let the wind sneak in. I gathered what hay I could around me and slept huddled against the wall shared with the rest of the house. I woke frequently throughout the night, reaching for a blanket that wasn’t there.
I arose cold and sore the next morning, watching as my breath made clouds in the air. Vanessa would likely be sitting outside the church by now. The brightness of the paper window suggested a clear day, so at least she wouldn’t have to endure rain or snow. The bitter overnight wind had faded too, and I felt like I was keeping watch with her as I hunched in a corner and rubbed my hands together. When I finally heard the church bell ring, I breathed a small sigh of relief. At least that phase of her punishment was over. Now she just had to get through her confession. If there was any positive side to my confinement, it was that I wouldn’t have to witness her admitting guilt for taking a book she hadn’t actually taken. I didn’t know if I could have sat there and endured it. I very likely might have rushed to her side and raged at the crowd.
Was that what I’d do when my time came? Would I stand there and rail at them for their hypocritical, close-minded ways? Or would I too submit, meekly doing as I was told in order to get another day closer to Cape Triumph? Another day closer to Merry? A moment of humiliation before people I’d never see again was a small price to reunite with my daughter. Even cutting my hair was.
Except I was certain that bit had been a personal addition of Dinah’s. I’d heard accusations of vanity constantly since being here, but no one else was walking around with shorn hair.
Another long day dragged by. I raged a little less, lethargic now from lack of food and sleep. I wrote a letter to Merry again but made no attempt at penning a confession. I wouldn’t have minded reading the books to pass the time, but I resisted out of spite.
The third day passed more quickly, largely because I kept spacing out. Deprivation and cold had sapped my strength, moving me from tired to exhausted. My thoughts were dull, and sometimes standing up too quickly would make me dizzy. I didn’t have the energy to write to Merry, and I knew I should work on the confession while I still had some sense. But I never picked up the pen.
Why? What are you proving? I asked myself when twilight fell. I lay on the floor, hands behind my head, watching shadows play about the room. Suck up your pride, confess, cut your hair, and keep moving. It’s the only way to Merry.
No, it wasn’t. I might still have Jago and the Icori . . . but I wouldn’t know for sure until I got out of here. And to do that, I’d have to play Dinah’s game.
Or would I?
Slowly, I sat up and studied the window. It was too high for me to reach. There were no handholds on the wall. There was nothing I could stack to climb on. But I could fit through that window.
I thought about that as dusk gave way to night. Moonlight just barely kept the window aglow, which hadn’t happened the last two nights. They must have been cloudy. The rest of the room was still hard to see, and I moved slowly around it, feeling and assessing my accoutrements. I had the beginnings of a plan forming in my head, one that would make things go from bad to worse if it failed.
“But it won’t,” I murmured, taking off my cloak. I gritted my teeth against the cold and gripped the fabric tightly, trying to tear it. It held fast, as I’d expected, so I used the pen to stab at the cloak, creating holes to give me traction. Slowly, painstakingly, I tore the wool into strips about two inches wide. After that, I began disassembling the skirt of my overdress. I ripped two thirds of it into more fabric strips before determining I had enough. I tied them all together, end to end, and felt pretty proud of the length of “rope” I’d created.
But the exertion had taken its toll. I gave in to a brief break to regain my strength and brazenly ate all of my remaining bread. Then it was back to work.
With apologies to the angels, I started hurling holy texts at the window. Some missed, a couple bounced off the greased paper, but one struck in exactly the right way. Its corners tore the paper, creating a small hole. From there, it turned out to be relatively easy to expand the hole and knock out most of the paper. When I was satisfied with the opening, I tossed all the remaining books outside.
That required another rest. When I could drag myself up from it, I took one last deep drink of the water—and then dumped the tub out. Water spilled over the hay and dirt, and I winced at the waste. Then, I tied an end of the fabric rope through one of the tub’s handles. The tub was narrow and oval-shaped. If the long side was horizontally oriented to the window, the tub would fit through the opening. If perpendicular, it wouldn’t.
My first dozen attempts to throw the tub out the window failed. Most didn’t get high enough. When I did manage a toss that reached the right height, the tub had rotated and couldn’t fit through. I stopped to rest at that point, crouching on the muddied floor. The room wavered, my muscles were fatigued. With great effort, I forced myself up and resumed my task. After a few more bad throws, I finally got everything right, and the tub sailed out. The victory didn’t last, though, because when I began reeling the rope in, the tub came right back in with it.
This certainly wasn’t how I’d imagined my makeshift grappling hook working. And each failure was noisy since it meant the metal tub had struck the wall. I fully expected detection from someone inside or outside the house. But finally, the tub landed outside a second time, and this time I pulled it up slowly, making sure it stayed angled in a way that didn’t immediately make it slip back in. When the tub was secured crosswise against a corner of the window and didn’t return when tugged, I cautiously climbed up the rope and tumbled ungracefully out the window.
I landed hard in the snow, which was a foot deeper than it had been when I’d come here. The tub crashed down beside me, and I flipped it over as I surveyed the scattered books. I really had no use for them, but it seemed a shame to leave them behind. I also didn’t want any of my escape tools discovered. Using the tub as a basket, I piled the texts and rope into it and then tried to stand. Everything spun around me, and I had to quickly grab the house to keep from falling. I closed my eyes, drawing breath and centering myself.
Stay strong, Tamsin. You aren’t beaten yet.
Clutching at whatever scraps of reserve energy I could, I lifted the tub and set out. It had to be the middle of the night by that point. I expected easy passage through Constancy and was surprised to spy a few men out and about. Sentries watching for Icori, I realized. Evading them took a little care but wasn’t too difficult. And once I was well along the creek road, I never saw anyone else.
I had little sense of time or scenery on the trip. Everything within me was focused on continuing along the road. One more step, one more step. Over and over, I told myself that. My limbs grew heavy, and I had trouble walking in a straight line. I constantly corrected myself, and more than once, I tripped and sent books flying. So many times, I wanted to stop but feared I’d never get going again. So, on I went, driven by thoughts of Merry and a warm fire and spiting Dinah.
If clouds had hidden the gibbous moon, I might not have found Jago’s property in my addled state. But the two barns stood out starkly in the pale light, and I pushed through the chill and fatigue to quicken my pace to the dark little house. I gave the door three sharp raps and then waited, my teeth chattering.
“Who’s there?”
came a muffled voice.
“Tamsin.”
A long silence followed, and I closed my eyes, thinking I might very well fall asleep there. Jago finally opened the door with a lantern in hand, just as a voice behind me barked, “Freeze!”
“Everything’s all right, Arnaud,” said Jago. He studied me in the lantern’s golden light. “And I’d say she’s already freezing.”
Jolted to alertness, I turned and found the big Belsian man behind me. He walked around the porch, a rifle in hand. When he recognized me, he immediately lowered the gun. “Miss Tamsin! I did not know you.”
Jago steered me inside. “It’s okay. You can go back to the barn—and thank you.”
A banked fire glowed orange in Jago’s hearth, and I headed straight for it, dropping the tub along the way. I felt numbed and stupid, and even when I sank to my knees, the world kept wobbling and spinning. If I could just get warm, I could think clearly. I leaned in closer to the fire, its heat slowly spreading over my skin. After my last few stark days of existence, the glowing flames seemed almost friendly, like longtime acquaintances welcoming me home. Closer and closer and—
“Whoa.” Jago grasped my arm and pulled me back. “You awake there?”
I blinked a few times. “What?”
He folded a heavy blanket around my shoulders and peered into my face. “You almost fell into the fire. What are you doing out here with no cloak and . . . Good grief. What happened to your dress?”
I searched around for the tub and pointed. “In there.”
Jago bent over it, raising an eyebrow at the contents. He made no comment and instead brought me water in a tin mug. I drank it all in one go and asked for a refill. “I would’ve had more earlier if I’d known I was just going to dump it. But I thought I had to save some for tomorrow.”
“What are you talking about?”
Why was thinking so hard? “The room. The room Dinah sent me to. I was supposed to write the confession, but I— Hey!”