Goblin Moon (23 page)

“It is all so beautiful,” Mistress Vorder told their
hostess. “I have always admired your exquisite taste,
Countess.”

“I have never seen anything like it,” breathed Elsie.
But when nobody else could hear her, she whispered in Sera’s ear:
“I think that it frightens me just a little.”

“I’ll not leave you alone for a single instant,” said
Sera. “That is . . . not until somebody asks you to dance.”

But someone was already moving their way, and that
somebody (unfortunately) was Jarl Skogsrå, impressively garbed in
black velvet and snowy white lace, and a red satin sash laden with
foreign orders. He had powdered his hair in honor of the occasion,
and he wore an enormous ruby ring on his left hand. “Fairest of
charmers, I am entirely at your service—and yours as well, my dear
Miss Vorder. But pray assure me, my Elsie, that you have not
promised the first minuet to anyone but me.”

Elsie colored prettily and offered him her hand,
which he kissed and retained in that clinging way that Sera always
found so particularly repulsive. Elsie, however, did not seem to
mind. “But of course I reserved the first dance for you,
Haakon—that is, Lord Skogsrå.”

The musicians were now striking up. Turning to look
at them, Sera experienced a jolt of surprise—the players were all
powered by clockwork; there was not one real man among them. Seated
on a revolving platform, they all sawed away at their various
viols, fiddles, and cellos, their short jerky movements quite at
odds with the music. It took Sera another moment to realize they
were only going through the motions; the tinkling tune issued from
the gilded platform, which was really a gigantic musicbox.

Sera frowned, thinking the entire effect ludicrous.
She would have much preferred live musicians.

“If you will only try to look as though you were
having a good time, and not as though you contemplated murder, I
feel certain that someone will ask you to dance. See, there is Mr.
Hakluyt and his friend Lord Krogan, and both of them are looking at
you,” Elsie whispered in Sera’s ear, just before Skogsrå led her
away.

As for the odious Lord Krogan and his equally
repulsive crony, Mr. Hakluyt, they were certainly staring in Sera’s
direction. She favored the pair of them with a toss of her head and
a glance so explosive that both men blenched and sidled out of the
room.

Sera doubted that any
suitable
partner would appear, nor would it matter
if one did. She was not about to stand up to be laughed at in her
made-over gown. She found a seat on a sofa by an open window, and
sat there for the next hour and a half, while one partner after
another asked Elsie to dance.

“Oh, Sera, the gentlemen are all so agreeable, and I
vow I’ve not spent such an enjoyable evening in all my life,” said
Elsie, during a pause between dances, as she sank down beside Sera
on the black velvet cushions. “For in general, you know, I am
always too ill to really enjoy a party.”

Perhaps
, thought Sera,
the attentions of these other men, which she
seems to enjoy, will convince Elsie to wait a little longer before
accepting the odious Jarl.
“You look flushed, my dear,” she
said aloud. “Do not tell me that you have been drinking wine. You
know that it always makes your head ache.”

Elsie shook out her fan. “Only a little cherry
ratafia, which Lord Vizbeck was so kind as to bring me. Now, Sera,
do not scold me, for I only had a sip or two.”

“What a charming tableau the two of you do make,”
said a bell-like voice, and Sera looked up to see a dainty figure
in shades of rose and cream. It was the Duchess of Zar-Wildungen,
arriving fashionably late, leaning on Francis Skelbrooke’s arm.

Lord Skelbrooke bowed deeply. He looked especially
fine this evening, in an exquisite coat of sea-green satin trimmed
with silver braid, with a fall of shimmering lace at his throat and
drooping at his wrists, and a pattern of pearls and silver threads
worked into the design of his embroidered waistcoat. But Sera’s
attention was immediately engaged by his shoes, which had crimson
heels and were adorned with large satin bows the color of his
coat.

“The Misses Vorder: as ravishing as ever, and a
perfect study in dark and light,” said Skelbrooke.

Sera tore her gaze away from the satin bows and gave
him a puzzled frown; if he meant a compliment, it was an awkward
one at best.

“Lord Skelbrooke—“ she began, but proceeded no
further, as Elsie made a tiny, inarticulate sound of protest and
clutched her hand convulsively. Her attention immediately on Elsie,
Sera saw that her cousin had lost all color and was trembling
violently. “What is it, my darling, are you feeling ill?”

Elsie shook her head. “N-not ill . . . no, no, not
ill . . . but I see such terrible things crawling on the floor, and
I believe that I am going to scream if I stay here much
longer.”

Sera sprang to her feet, looking for the nearest
exit. Spotting an open door twenty feet away, she helped Elsie to
stand and move in that direction. “You have nothing to fear,” Sera
said soothingly. “Truly, Elsie, there is nothing on the floor, not
anything at all. But I will take you into the next room, which
appears to be a delightful library.”

They headed toward the door, Elsie supported on
Sera’s arm. Elsie’s breathing was so swift and shallow, Sera feared
she was about to swoon. Yet they made it into the library without
any mishap, and Sera found a high-backed leather chair for Elsie to
collapse into.

She knelt on the floor at her cousin’s feet. “There,
now, you see, there is nothing so dreadful in here. And if you
would only try to regulate your breathing, I feel certain you would
feel better, almost immediately.”

“Sera,” whispered Elsie, in tones of horror. “I can
feel my skin withering and falling off the bones. It is . . . the
most terrible . . . sensation.”

“No, no, your skin is just as it was,” Sera protested
helplessly. For once in her life, she had no idea what she might do
or say to make things better. She felt an unexpected surge of
relief when Jarl Skogsrå strode into the library and fell to his
knees on the floor beside her.

“My darling, I am with you, and nothing will harm
you,” said the Jarl. The words were scarcely out of his mouth
before Elsie ceased to tremble, and her color began to return. As
Skogsrå continued to speak in reassuring tones, she even managed a
wan smile.

“Haakon, yes,” she said faintly. “How very strange .
. . I was terrified nearly to death only a few moments ago, but I
feel quite safe now.”

Sera thought it rather
more
than strange. She could not, for the life of her, detect anything
in the Jarl’s speech or in his manner to account for the sudden,
almost magical change in his patient. Within minutes, Elsie’s color
was entirely restored, and she was laughing shyly at something the
Jarl said to her.

Sera rose to her feet and dusted off her skirts. “I
congratulate you, my lord, she said bitterly. “You have
accomplished the miraculous.”

“That being so, I make bold to claim my reward: will
you not dance with me, Elsie my heart?” Skogsrå rose gracefully and
offered her his arm.

To Sera’s surprise and consternation, Elsie stood up
and placed her hand in his. “Yes, Haakon, I believe that I
will.”

“But this is madness!” exclaimed Sera. “You cannot
dance when—when you have recently been so very unwell.”

“But I am entirely recovered now. Indeed, I feel
remarkably refreshed. And I was having such a lovely time, before
that foolish attack of mine, it seems a shame to spoil it.” And
Elsie allowed the Jarl to lead her out of the library and onto the
dance floor.

Fighting back tears—of frustration? of
disappointment?—Sera collapsed into the chair her cousin had so
recently vacated.
She will have him now . . .
oh, she will certainly marry him now. And I shall have to let her,
for it is obvious he can take better care of her than I can. But
what will become of me, after she marries him?

“But the Jarl has the most amazing powers of healing
in his voice!” exclaimed the Duchess. “It really was a privilege to
observe him.”

Sera started violently. She was uncertain just when
the Duchess and Lord Skelbrooke had entered the library, or how
much they had seen and heard.

“Miss Vorder,” said Skelbrooke, “if you are not
feeling too fatigued after your recent ordeal, I was about to ask
you for the honor of a dance.”

Sera stared up at him, wondering what had prompted
him to make such an outrageous proposal. Surely he must know how
poorly her made-over gown would contrast with the delicate pastels
of the other ladies on the dance floor—how dark and ugly it would
look beside his own sea-green satin and silver lace.”I make it a
practice, sir, never to dance at such large gatherings.”

“Your accustomed good sense, Miss Vorder,” he replied
gravely. “For I can think of a few things more tedious than to
stand up in an overheated and overcrowded chamber and attempt to
dance. Were it not for the hope of the pleasure of your company I
would never have contemplated that folly myself.

“But if you will not dance, perhaps you will allow me
to escort you into the long gallery? The wax statues there are said
to be extremely fine.”

Sera opened her mouth to refuse him, but Skelbrooke
forestalled her. “I was recently so fortunate as to make the
acquaintance of an old friend of yours, Miss Vorder: a Mr. Jedidiah
Braun. And he charged me with an important message.”

“Jedidiah!” Sera was too exhausted, emotionally and
physically, to conceal her surprise. “You are acquainted with Jed,
Lord Skelbrooke?”

Lord Skelbrooke bowed, indicating that he was. “I
have that honor, Miss Vorder.”

Sera took a long breath. “Then by all means, my
lord,” she said, “escort me to the long gallery.”

Chapter
19

Which is largely Confidential.

The long gallery was situated in another, older wing
of the Xebo mansion. To reach it, Sera and Lord Skelbrooke ascended
a twisting stair and walked down a long candle-lit hallway. As they
strolled along the corridor, they passed many other couples, in
attitudes either confidential or amorous.

Sera blushed as they passed a particularly ardent
pair wrapped in a passionate embrace. She was uncomfortably aware
of Skelbrooke’s arm supporting her own, of the light, firm grip of
his other hand covering hers. To make matters worse, they were much
of a height, and consequently, whenever he turned to speak to her,
she had either to look away or else meet his gaze directly, at
alarmingly close quarters.

“I dined with your friend at Master Ule’s a fortnight
ago,” said Skelbrooke. “You will be pleased to know that he was in
excellent health and spirits and that his prospects for advancement
continue to improve.”

“I am more than pleased, I am enormously relieved,”
said Sera, marveling at the steadiness of her own voice. “I have
been endeavoring for some time now to communicate with Jed. But I
continually find obstacles thrown in my way. I wrote and received
no answer—I called at his lodgings only to learn that he had moved
and left no direction. When I spoke to his uncle last week at my
grandfather’s, he refused to tell me Jed’s present lodging, saying
it wasn’t
‘fitting’
to call on him—a boy I
have known all of my life. It is very frustrating!”

Skelbrooke nodded solemnly. “Mr. Braun informed me
that you had expressed some concern—had doubts about the wisdom of
some project your grandfather had undertaken along with Caleb
Braun. Jedidiah wished me to tell you that he, too, is increasingly
concerned, though he is very far from learning the nature of their
endeavor.”

“Yes.” Sera released a sigh of profound exasperation.
“I thought as much. I believe there is a conspiracy of sorts, to
keep Jed and me from communicating, lest we compare what we know
and somehow discover what those two dear, stubborn old men are
doing!”

Skelbrooke cleared his throat apologetically,
hesitated a moment before speaking. “I would not wish to accuse
anyone in the Vorder household unjustly; but it would seem this
conspiracy extends farther than you think. Mr. Braun informs me
that he wrote several letters to you, yet he sincerely doubts that
any were delivered.”

Sera did not conceal her annoyance. “That, I believe,
is another conspiracy of longer standing. Cousin Clothilde does not
approve of my friendship with Jed, so naturally her servants will
have orders not to deliver his messages. How vexing that
is—especially now, when it is so important for Jed and me to
communicate!”

Again, his lordship cleared his throat. “I am going
into the country tomorrow, and expect to be out of town for a week
or more, but—You frown, madam. Will you tell me why that is?”

“It is only,” said Sera, “that you are so seldom
in
town.”

Skelbrooke made a half bow. “It is true that I visit
the country a good deal. How charming of you to notice, Miss
Vorder.” Sera felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She had not meant
to sound flirtatious.

“But as I was about to say,” he continued. “When I
return, Mr. Braun and I may cross paths again. Should that happen,
I will of course be happy to deliver any message you might care to
send.”

“You are very kind,” said Sera. “I should have
thought . . .” And then she stopped to wonder what
he
must think of
her
.

His lordship inclined his head politely. “You would
have thought?”

“It is no matter. I only wondered that you were so—so
tolerant of a friendship which everyone else seems to disapprove. I
hope, sir, that you do not imagine you are assisting the parties in
a—a thwarted romance?”