Chapter 18
Cosette awoke to the sun shining through the curtains. She blinked her eyes. It had to be late morning, although she could only remember a handful of times she had slept past eight. It was a rather cheerful way to start the morning when her dreams had been rather fretful. She looked across to where Quinn sat slumped down in a chair in the corner of the room, asleep. He seemed unharmed, so at least that was a good sign. It meant that the voice hadn’t returned to cause havoc.
She stood and walked down the hall to her chamber. She had become rather accustomed to staying in Davien’s room, even if he wasn’t there. As she got dressed, she tried not to think about why he hadn’t returned home yet. She could only hope that meant he’d come across a new lead—and he wasn’t enjoying the delights that the Order had to offer.
Cosette went downstairs and entered the dining room. A single tray was waiting for her, still steaming. She had to smile. It was ironic how the extraordinary things that happened at Shadowlawn were now rather commonplace and comfortingly . . . familiar. She sat down and began to consume the kippers and eggs in front of her.
She intended to spend the rest of the day in the library, hoping to be productive, and find something that Davien might have missed, a book that might spark some sort of idea on how to free them from their curses.
She had just lifted a bite to her lips when there was a knock at the front door.
With a frown, she slowly lowered her fork. Who on earth could be calling?
Expelling a sigh, she realized there was only one way to find out. She set down her napkin and slid her chair back. Standing, she walked to the door. She was in the foyer when another impatient knock sounded. “I’m coming!” she shouted.
She turned the key in the lock and pulled the door open to reveal Mrs. Woodard standing on the front steps. Her friend from the workhouse looked as weary and downtrodden as usual, her clothes threadbare and shabby, but her age-lined face instantly flooded with relief when she spied her. “Oh, thank God, Cosette! I was hoping to find you here. I wasn’t sure where else to turn.”
“Marianne?” Cosette breathed, shock temporarily keeping her immobile. It wasn’t until the widow embraced her in a hug did she react. “Please, come in! You must be freezing! Did you walk all the way here?”
“I did. But it wasn’t any worse than normal.” She glanced at Cosette’s attire. “You’ve done well for yourself, I see. I’m thankful for that, at least.”
Cosette didn’t respond to that. Instead, she asked, “Would you like something to eat?”
The widow hesitated. Even though she was reduced to bare circumstances, Cosette knew that she had her pride and seldom accepted charity. “I’ll take a cup of tea.”
Cosette led the way to the library. It already had a roaring fire going, and she knew it would be less intimidating in there, as opposed to the massive dining room or elegant front parlor. She wasn’t surprised to see a silver tea service already sitting and waiting. As they seated themselves, Cosette offered to pour the tea.
“Gor, I can almost see my reflection,” Mrs. Woodard remarked. “I daresay you have some rather efficient servants. You didn’t even have to ring for the tea.”
“I was just about to have a cup myself,” Cosette hedged. “I spend a lot of time in here.” At least that wasn’t a complete lie. “Cream or sugar?”
“Both please. I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth.” She took the cup from Cosette. “I’m relieved to see that you seem to be settling in well. I was rather concerned when you didn’t come back to the workhouse.”
Cosette felt a pang of guilt for not sending word back to her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Woodard. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
The widow took a sip from her cup, her blue-gray eyes filled with disquiet. “Is the duke good to you?”
“He is,” Cosette admitted honestly. “I’m very lucky to have such a protector.”
Cosette thought of the possibility of Davien’s desertion someday, but at the moment she was more concerned about her locket and the voice tied to it. But since she didn’t want to discuss either, she asked, “What brings you here, Marianne?”
The widow set aside her tea with a heavy sigh. “You should brace yourself, for I’m afraid I have some bad news to impart.”
Cosette felt her entire body tense, but she forced herself to say, “Go on.”
“It’s about Charlotte.” Mrs. Woodard sighed heavily. “I learned that she’s been taken by the Order of St. Francis.”
Cosette stilled. “Are you sure?” Not only was this terrible news, but she also had to wonder if Davien knew about it. If he had, and didn’t tell her . . .
“Quite,” the widow concluded. “I don’t know what we could possibly do to free her from the clutches of such a despicable organization. I fear she’s lost to us.”
Cosette lifted her cup of tea and took a bracing sip. “Don’t lose hope. I’ll think of something.”
The widow gasped. “Surely you’re not thinking of acting on your own? That Abbey is full of deviants. Why, if you cross that threshold you are as good as gone!”
“Charlotte is my friend,” Cosette returned firmly. “I will not allow the men of the Order to condemn her to a life of hell on earth. I will see that she is released.” Cosette took a deep breath and vowed. “Even if I have to step up and take her place.”
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