In Her Element

Almyra smoothed her skirt and rearranged her silk shawl. She grabbed hold of a fly-away curl of her hair and twirled it around one long finger. Letting it go, it sprung back and into her eye. She brushed it back impatiently, and then snapped open her fan and began waving it vigorously. Her other hand rested on her lap, fingers drumming steadily. A pair of hands reached out from the opposite side of the carriage and stilled Almyra’s. Miss Lisle, who sat across from her, had leaned forward in exasperation at Almyra’s fidgeting, although her mouth twitched and her eyes sparkled with amusement. She gently plucked the colorful fan from Almyra’s hand and collapsed it before handing it back.

“Might I know,” she said laughter evident in her voice, the pretty laughter that perfectly matched the features of the thirty-two year old woman, “what is causing you to behave in such a fretful manner?”

Almyra dropped the fan on her bench and brought her hands together to twiddle her thumbs. “I am not at all behaving in a ‘fretful’ manner,” she replied.

“Really.” Miss Lisle raised her eyebrows skeptically and stared pointedly at Almyra’s fingers, which had recommenced with the drumming.

Almyra sighed desolately. “I overheard something most disturbing last night. It is actually for that reason that I insisted that we go out today; it is an attempt at forgetting it all for just a small period of time.”

“Hmm. You know, it is quite childish to listen in on someone else’s conversation, as well as indecorous. It is well known that if you do, it is inevitable that you will hear something you had no desire to. It seems to me you had the chance to experience that first hand.”

“I know, I know,” Almyra answered wearily, rubbing her forehead. “It’s just, I was searching for Matthew, and when I found him in Frederick’s room, they were talking and…”she trailed off and slouched down miserably.

“You could not help yourself,” Miss Lisle grinned. “Really Almyra, you are far too curious for your own good. It is no surprise that you are upset over something that you should not have heard in the first place.”

“It was not on purpose,” Almyra protested half-heartedly, “but you are right—it is a rather deficient habit.” She shrugged. “Then again, I believe in Fate, so it must have been necessary to hear what I did.”

“Of course it was, dear. Now sit up straight. I believe we are nearly there.”

To prove her right, the carriage suddenly jostled slightly as it came to a stop. The door opened and Rupert stood there with his hand out. “Here we are, Misses. The dress shop,” he said. Almyra took hold of his offered hand and he helped her step out of the carriage onto the cobble stones below, followed by Miss Lisle.

They moved toward the shop, Almyra suddenly forgetting her sullen mood and chatting on merrily about a sash that she had an eye for—one that would go perfect on her gown—before she noticed Rupert trailing behind them. She stopped, and he looked at her questioningly. She raised a delicate, perfunctory eyebrow and said “you need not come with us. I reckon you would be rather bored and feel a bit out of place in a women’s clothing store”.

The look of relief on his face was obvious, even though he tried rather hard not to let it show, but he still felt it necessary to be sure that they would be fine without him. They reassured him that they would be all right, that they were hardly in any danger in a dress shop, and shooed him away with fluttering hands. He left, and they continued into the world of gowns, ribbons, pins, and more.

Rupert glanced over his shoulder as the door closed behind Almyra and her companion. He walked briskly, yet taking care to check all around to make sure he had no followers. Satisfied that he had no one shadowing him, he quickened his pace bit by bit so as not to look suspicious, until he reached The Griffin’s Grand—a popular tavern for meetings or just simple get-togethers—albeit one that was a bit seedy in character. His business was the former, and so he moved to the rear of the shop to the small cubicles that ran along the walls. The wallpaper in the place was ripped and peeled off so much, it was practically non-existent, and beneath it was revealed a layer of mold that had accumulated over the years of neglect. The entrances to the booths were closed off with heavy, moth-eaten curtains that may have been white at some point in the far, far past. All were the same, save for one in the furthest corner, where a lone purple curtain hung. Rupert spotted it and went to it, squeezing himself into the narrow opening and sneezing as dust was released when he brushed by the curtain. He released the rope that kept the drape shut and coughed as more dust particles stirred.

“Well met, Dunne.”

Rupert shook the proffered hand, appraising its owner as he did. “Well lad, you’ve grown.”

The young man nodded indifferently. “Yes, I have, sir, as is expected of a young boy as of anyone else. May I request that we leave the pleasantries for another time, please? I would rather we not prolong this.”

Rupert sat down abruptly; he looked at the booth’s other occupant and repressed a critical sigh. So young and already this boy’s behavior was beyond his years. He was—dare Rupert think this—brainwashed. “Very well, then. Business it is.”

“How did she find out, then? In your letter, you mentioned something about her overhearing a conversation. Is there a possibility that someone else might have heard as well?”

“The Styvent boy—Frederick—he knows something. He was telling her brother. Why now, I do wonder.” Rupert frowned. “He has always been a bit of a hindrance, and even more so of the late. Are you sure—“

“No. The Master insists that he remain in his position; he plays an integral part in bringing Miss Almyra to us. Frederick does not know everything, and her brother knowing what he does hopefully does not change much.”

Rupert’s frown deepened at the familiarity of which the lad used to refer to his charge, but continued nonetheless. “He will probably be watchful of her,” he admitted.

“True. Nevertheless, we shall proceed as planned. We will just be a bit more cautious.”

They sat there in silence—the strapping bodyguard and the young man who looked like he had just finished filling out his frame and was still getting accustomed to it. The former looked up suddenly and said, “Samuel,”

Samuel looked up, an eyebrow raised in question. “Yes?”

“You will be there, right? You are to play a main part in the scheme, am I correct?”

“I dislike your use of the word scheme. It makes what we are doing sound…wrong.” He nodded swiftly, however, when Rupert glared at him. “I believe so,” he added coolly. His eyes traveled downward to his companion’s hands. They were absentmindedly playing with a mug that had been left there by the cubicle’s previous occupants. The lad suddenly understood, and said sharply, “She will be all right, as long as she cooperates.”

Rupert, who had followed Samuel’s gaze, looked up and attempted to seem controlled and indifferent, a look that was belied as he nervously bit his lip, which suited oddly on a man of his size and build. He sighed. “That is precisely what I worry about. Miss Almyra is not always so cooperative. She has a stubborn mind and will, particularly when being ordered about.”

“Then it will be your job to see to it that she listens.”

Samuel stood. He held out his hand, which Rupert reluctantly shook, then turned around and pulled open the curtain. He paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Be careful, sir. This must go as planned.” The man, as now Rupert could only think of him that way, remained in that contorted position, his eyes boring into Rupert’s, and for a moment the latter understood what people felt like when they saw him. He ordered his eyes not to break the stare, and felt oddly relieved when Samuel turned back, with a parting “until next time. Blessed be.”

“Blessed be,” Rupert muttered to the mug, then transferred his hands to his face and leaned onto them. He suddenly felt old—and very off his game.