Unthinkable

“Won’t you let me try?” Was that pleading in his voice? Surely not.

  “The things that amuse me are small and unimportant, my lord. They are not worth your time. Neither am I.” She tried another, deeper, curtsy, and as she dipped, she took a large step away from him.

  Immediately she knew her mistake, for the faerie lord’s voice filled with even more interest. “You like what is small and unimportant?”

  Now she did not know what to say.

  “Let us make a bargain. Come with me to a ball. Just one ball, and you dressed like the finest lady. This dress you shall keep, in fair trade for your company. At the ball, we will see how much you will enjoy yourself.” His voice grew deep. “Perhaps you will surprise yourself. Perhaps you will laugh for me.”

  “No! I make no bargain!” The tales and the songs were also full of bargains with the fey, and never did the bargains end up benefiting the human. “I will simply be on my way, good sir, and wish you a speedy return to the sleep that I interrupted so rudely.”

  Fenella laid her hand on Dando’s bridle, inches from the elegant hand of the elfin lord. There was something unusual about the lord’s hand, she noted, but she had not the leisure to process what it was. She took up the bridle as if she had no doubt that he would let it go, and to her relief, the faerie lord’s white fingers released the leather.

  At that moment, her brain caught up with her eyes and told her what was wrong with the elfin lord’s hands. It was not only that the fingers were so long and so white, or even that the nails were clean and eerily perfect. It was that each finger folded into four segments.

  It would not do to run. Fenella moved deliberately as she guided Dando, who trembled as she did. She walked away, passing within a hair’s breadth of the lord. She took care not to brush even the hem of her garment against him. Step. Step. Step.

  At last there was distance between them. Her pace quickened.

  She did not look back. But as she moved around a bend in the road, she felt his touch on the breeze that spun up, circling round her, wrapping her skirt tightly around her hips and legs.

  She kicked herself free. She leaned on Dando. They staggered forward together.

  She had not escaped, and she knew it. She had merely been let out at the end of a long rope, as if she were Dando. The faerie lord would be back.

  Which meant she needed a plan.

  Chapter 25

  Fenella looked up into the faces of her family. She drew a shaky breath. She was suddenly aware of the cat on her lap. His eyes were closed as if he was asleep, but she knew he was not.

  Padraig probably was sincere that first day, said Ryland. His tone was strangely thoughtful. He led a lonely life. It makes sense to me, as I listen to your story. He wasn’t looking to make mischief or cause pain. Not yet. He wanted a companion.

  I am aware of that now, Fenella thought. Maybe I should have pretended to love him. Maybe that would have saved Robert and Bronagh, at least.

  It was almost as if the cat read her mind. I don’t know what you should have done differently. He sounded surprised, even frustrated. How could you have known?

  Fenella shrugged. She had been over this in her head a hundred million times. Why did it feel raw again? Was it the speaking aloud? Was it her family’s kind eyes? Was it that a member of faerie royalty was listening to her, finally? Or was it the bald fact that the threat of Padraig was renewed, and she had been the one to renew it?

  It came to Fenella with horror that she was telling the story of her victimhood, but in truth, she was now the villain. She had destroyed her family’s home, and more was ahead.

  “You’re not going to stop there, are you?” asked Lucy. “You have to go on and tell us how Padraig came to curse our family.”

  Soledad said thoughtfully, “I’m guessing that the curse had something to do with Padraig discovering you were pregnant by Robert. Were you with Robert that same night, like you originally planned? When you sneaked out?”

  “Yes. I knew not to waste any time in getting pregnant.” Fenella’s gaze skittered to Leo. After a moment, he nodded back gravely, and she knew that he had understood her— and also that he now fully understood why, before, she had not wanted to hear the song about Lady Janet and Tam Lin. She went on: “I had heard of clever girls who outwitted the fey, using ordinary woman’s magic, and, well, love.”

  “You did get pregnant on purpose, then?” Soledad leaned in. Her gaze said that she, too, had made the connection.

  Fenella nodded, glancing compulsively back at Leo. “I could only hope, of course. But it was the right time in my cycle. Robert wanted to be careful, but I told him no. I didn’t tell him why. I knew he would give in. We were to be married soon anyway.” The old memory floated to Fenella: she and Robert, alone, within the four walls of the dwelling Robert was nearly done building for them. There had as yet been no roof, and so the stars had lit the night while she rested in his arms.

  They had had only three nights.

  Leo’s gaze met Fenella’s. He said it aloud, plainly. “When you got pregnant? Were you thinking of Janet in the Tam Lin ballad, even then? You knew the ballad?”

  Fenella nodded. “I did. I was reaching for whatever I could think of, and I remembered Tam Lin. But you see, Janet was the wrong example for me. For if I had not been pregnant, Padraig could not have cursed anyone but me.”

  Logical, said the cat, just as Soledad began shaking her head.

  “I didn’t think about the fact that I was bringing another vulnerable being into the world. I felt strong,” Fenella went on compulsively. “I thought I could succeed.”

  “You were strong,” Soledad said.

  “In all the wrong ways.” Fenella sank her fingers into the cat’s fur.

  “No,” said Soledad. “You are not judging yourself fairly. Believe me, Fenella.”

  Fenella compressed her lips. “I disagree.”

  “Endurance is strength too,” Soledad insisted. “It’s another kind of ordinary woman’s magic. There were no good choices. You survived. You’re moving forward with your life. It’s all strength.”

  Fenella looked into the cat’s unblinking eyes, and then at Soledad. “No. Don’t argue with me about it.”

  “All right,” said Soledad. “For now. But we’ll talk about this again, all of us, because it’s important.”

  Lucy nodded agreement, and Fenella saw her steal a glance at Miranda.

  Fenella said, “It’s a song. A story! It’s not a guide to real life. That was my mistake. It wasn’t like I could grab hold of Robert and not let go for an hour, while he turned into one monster after another.” She tried to control the bitterness in her voice. “If only it had been that simple.”

  “Monsters?” asked Zach.

  Leo explained: “In the song, Tam Lin was turned into one monster after another, to test Janet’s love and resolve.”

  “Easy for her,” Fenella said bitterly.

  “Well, you’re right,” said Lucy, after a moment. “I never thought about it before. But Janet had clear instructions. Plus, she only had to be brave for an hour.”

  Fenella said again, “It turned out to be the wrong story for me. The wrong example. But it explains why I did what I did. Why I became pregnant. I thought it would anchor me to Robert and to human life. I thought it would give me my own power.”

  Miranda had remained quiet this entire time. She said, “None of the rest of us had that choice. We were all forced into pregnancy.”

  Fenella would have met Miranda’s eyes, but Miranda was watching her own knees.

  “I realize that,” said Fenella gently.

  She said this even though she knew it was not completely true. Each of the Scarborough girls had had her own story, and some of them, like Fenella—and like Minnie—had been with lovers they chose. But there was no reason to say anything that might make Miranda feel more alone. Fenella looked away from Miranda, only to have her gaze caught by Lucy. There was a moment of perfect understanding, filled with shared
sympathy for Miranda. Then Fenella ducked her head. She could not afford to feel close to Lucy. Or to Leo, who was looking on with gentle eyes.

  Or to anyone.

  She put a hand to her throat, and swallowed.

  Lucy said, “Will you tell us the rest of the story, Fenella?”

  You know what? said the cat suddenly. I thought I had no knowledge of you before. But now I remember. You were in a red dress, and Padraig had dressed to match, in red and black. You were dancing with him at the ball. I was just a cub, but I was there too, that very night.

  Feeling Lucy’s gaze still on her, Fenella said, “Miranda? Should I tell more?”

  Miranda moved her head in the tiniest of nods.

  “I’ll go on with my story, then,” said Fenella.

  Chapter 26

  On a soft evening three days later, Fenella brought hay to Dondo. The donkey adored his feed, so when he ceased chewing and lifted his head, ears prickling, eyes going halfwild, she knew. She was ready, however.

  “Good evening, laughing girl,” the faerie lord said.

  Fenella kept a hand on the donkey, though whether it was to calm the animal or herself, she did not inquire. She turned. The lord was but half an arm’s length away from her. She dropped a careful curtsy.

  There was no preparing for the impact of his beauty, but it was his clothing that made her eyes widen. His slashed doublet was made of red silk and lushly embroidered black satin, and trimmed with a wide collar and cuffs of finest point lace. The slashes in the doublet showed his full, voluminous chemise sleeves to advantage. He had a broad brimmed hat to his head, tight breeches to his legs, and high-heeled boots of gleaming leather to his feet. He wore a ring on every finger, and more in his earlobes, and they all gleamed red with jewels.

  He took off his hat and swept her a bow.

  He was like a male bird come courting in springtime, Fenella thought, feathered out colorfully in hopes of luring a mate, while she, the female, was considered desirable even in her drab brown.

  But she knew that being quiet and biddable would not serve her.

  “I suppose ruffs have gone out of fashion.” Fenella eyed the collar, which lay flat over his shoulders.

  “Long since, pretty girl.” Was that a glint of humor in his eyes? “This type of collar makes it much easier to turn one’s head. Do you like it?”

  “I have no opinion.” It was a lie, and it sounded like one too. The delicacy of the lace drew the eye. She wondered how Robert would look, dressed in such a way. She really could not imagine. Then she wondered what Robert would think, to see the faerie lord come courting her in such finery, trying to impress her, and this made her feel sick.

  But he would not see, and if all went well, he would never even know—or not know for many a long year, not until they were very old together and their lives were near done.

  The important thing was that Robert was safe, two fields away, finishing work on the roof of the dwelling that would soon be their home.

  Fenella would miss sleeping with the stars above their heads.

  “I mentioned that I wished to invite you to a party,” the lord said. “It is a grand ball, tonight.”

  “Good sir, thank you, but I mentioned that I did not wish to go.”

  He stared at her, his face impassive, for so long that Fenella dared hope this would put an end to it. Then the air between them was awash with mist. Fenella raised an arm instinctively to protect herself, but an instant later the moisture was gone and she saw that he was holding a bundle of red cloth in his arms.

  “Your dress for the party,” the lord said. “The spiders were weaving for three full days, since I first saw you. Your dress has a reticella lace collar too. It matches mine, but is smaller and more delicate.” He shook the fabric out and held the dress before him.

  Fenella was silent from sheer astonishment.

  The dress had a silk high-waisted bodice in red, lavishly embroidered, and tabbed skirts and full chemise sleeves. Its sleeves were gathered into two puffs by a ribbon at the elbow. The lace collar was soft and sheer, and woven so as to depict pomegranates.

  “There is a ribbon sash for your waist. I have not decided yet about your jewels. Jewels should always be selected last.”

  “No,” said Fenella.

  “You would build a style beginning with the jewels?”

  “No.” Her voice was strong again. “I shall not wear that dress, and no, I shall not go with you. You cannot make me. If I continue to refuse, you must take me at my word.” She tightened her hand on Dando. She put her other hand on her flat stomach, for courage.

  She hoped it was true that he could not make her.

  But the lord only smiled. “Your name is Fenella Scarborough, is it not?”

  Fenella’s breath caught.

  “I have made inquiries. It wasn’t difficult. Your laugh is known far and wide.” He stroked the fabric of the dress, and she saw how it sprang softly away from his overly segmented fingers.

  “Fenella,” he said. “You will come with me to this party. It is only one night. This I swear. One night only, and a party only. Then you will be free to leave me if you choose. I give you my word. But come with me this night, you shall.”

  In the next moment the dress was on her body, the waist falling into place, the collar settling lovingly onto her shoulders, the ribbon sash tightening around her midriff, and the skirts swishing around her legs and over her bare feet. A breeze ran through her hair, unknotting it from its plaits and then lifting it high, weaving it tightly into a pattern she could feel across her scalp.

  The donkey jerked away from Fenella’s astonished, frozen hand. He ran across the field as far as the fence would allow.

  Fenella stood still.

  “And a high-heeled shoe with a ribbon rosette.”

  Fenella’s feet pinched, and she staggered, looking down.

  “Or perhaps a flat shoe instead. Do not fret. It is well known that women, being less athletic, cannot manage high heels as well as men. If that does not work, then you may dance barefoot.”

  “I shall not dance at all!” Fenella spat. She gathered the skirts of her dress in her fists. She looked down at her bodice, but had no idea how to get out of the dress. She saw no fastenings. Could she rip it off her body?

  He was smiling at her, and talking, still talking. “Now we come to the jewels. Pearls, I think. Two strands, black and white, entwined.”

  Fenella felt the weight of the strands encircling her throat. She grabbed at them—these she would tear off, and immediately. But the movement of her hand brought something else to her attention.

  On her right thumb sat a ring of gold set with a single pearl the size of a plover egg. The pearl glowed in the last rays of the setting sun. She reeled back in shock. The price of the ring alone would have kept her entire family all of their days.

  There was one moment of confusion. One moment when she thought of the winters in which food was scarce. One moment when she thought of how her aunt had died, tired and sick, lines etching her face. One moment when she thought of the years ahead, of how hard she and Robert would have to work to feed their babes, years when the harvest might be poor and the watermill idle.

  For that moment, she wondered compulsively if she was being a fool. Perhaps she ought to make a bargain. She would go to the party, give him this one night, in exchange for the ring. Such a small thing to him. So much to her.

  The lord held out his hand for her to grasp. “Come.”

  But then the moment was over.

  “No,” Fenella said calmly. “And I do not believe you can force me.” She held her arms out stiffly at her sides. “I would like my own clothes back.”

  Another long pause. When the lord spoke at last, his voice was soft. “I am sorry.”

  She thought she had won at last.

  “I am sorry you have made this decision. It is a bad decision. You see, I have not been idle these three days, Fenella. I have found out much about you. Including . .
.” The lord paused. “That you are pledged to marry.”

  Fenella lifted her chin. “It is true. I am pledged. So good sir, again, I say you nay.”

  “His name was Robert, wasn’t it?” The lord smiled. “He was a good enough young man, from what I hear. What is the phrase you humans use? God rest his soul.”

  For the length of three heartbeats, Fenella stayed still.

  Then she whirled. She ran, hiking her skirts up high like Lady Janet from the song, awkward in the pretty, impractical shoes, clawing with one hand at the pearls at her neck. She felt the necklace thread break and then the pearls spill away from her, falling in her wake. She kicked off the shoes.

  She ran across one field, and then two. Finally she came to the little house that Robert had been building for them. There she discovered him at the foot of the ladder, crumpled on the ground, with his neck broken.

  Chapter 27

  The next day, Fenella didn’t go with the family to visit the apartment that Walker had mentioned. She told them that she was too tired.

  “No wonder,” said Lucy.

  When they had all left, Fenella climbed the rickety spiral stairs and sat on the edge of her temporary bed. She took out her leaf and held it between her palms. It sent out a low soothing pulse; nothing that could be translated into words.

  She truly was exhausted. After talking about Padraig last night, she had lain awake, her heart hammering with remembered pain, even though she had put her leaf on the pillow near her cheek. It had not helped that in the next bed, Miranda was awake as well.

  “Did he make you go to the faerie ball?” Miranda asked, into the darkness. “After he killed Robert?”

  “Yes.”

  “How were you—what were you thinking?”

  “That he might kill my father. Or Robert’s sister, Agnes.

  He held out his hand again and I went with him. I said nothing. I didn’t fight. It didn’t matter anymore, did it? At least, I didn’t think it did.”

  “But you were pregnant.”

  “I didn’t know that. I had forgotten that it was even possible.”