Page 48 of The Last Heir to Blackwood Library

The voice was familiar, a woman’s voice. It brought to mind smoky dance clubs and mornings spent in robes drinking tea in a cold room with mildewy wallpaper. It didn’t matter if it was the queen mother herself; if they could hear her then they could get her out.

“In here!” Ivy banged against the door. “I’m in here!” There was a pause in the commotion, and then footsteps growing closer.

The doorknob rattled. “Ivy? Can you open the door?”

“It’s locked!”

A second set of footsteps, heavier and slower, approached and the rattling stopped. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

“I’m here to find my friend. What have you done with her? Why is she locked up?”

“Ah, yes, the infamous London friend. If you had bothered to ask before you barged in, you would know that Ivy is very ill, and suffering from a nervous collapse. She is being kept safely in her room under strict orders from her doctor, lest she hurt herself or others.”

No no no. Ivy wasn’t sure who the “London friend” was, but they were clearly on her side. She shook the doorknob again, sending pain lacing up her sore shoulder. “He’s lying! Let me out!”

“Ivy would never harm herself, never mind someone else. She also never mentioned being engaged. I’m her best friend, she would have told me.”

A deluge of images of a tall woman with light brown skin and an infectious laugh came flooding back to her, causing her to wince with guilt.Susan. Her friend. How could she have ever forgotten about her?

“Lady Hayworth is ill. If you require proof of this from her physician, then you are more than welcome to seek him out and ask him yourself. In the meantime, I would thank you to keep your voice down and not inhibit her recovery with your hysterics.”

“I will not, you can’t keep someone locked away against their will!”

“As Ivy’s fiancé, I assure you I have only her best interests at heart,” Arthur said with barely constrained impatience. “Now, if you please, I’ll show you back out.”

“I’m not moving until you prove to me that Ivy is safe. Unlock the door.”

Ivy held her breath, but there was no sound of a lock or movement of any kind. “Susan!” she screamed. “Susan, don’t leave!”

“Ivy? Are you all right?”

“I must ask that you keep your voice down,” Arthur commanded, his own voice crawling with irritation. “Mercer, show the lady to the drawing room, and I will have Ivy sent down presently. There,” he said. “Will that satisfy you? Take tea with Ivy and see for yourself that there is nothing untoward afoot.”

Susan must have nodded, because it grew quiet save for the sound of a woman’s heels clicking down the hall. A moment later Arthur was showing himself in.

Ivy glared at her fiancé. He had changed since she’d seen him last, dressed now in tweeds, his hair foppishly combed. Locking the door behind him, he heaved a sigh and propped an elbow on the mantel. Even now, as he kept her under lock and key, Arthur was so handsome, his face so familiar and comforting amongst a sea of lost memories and unknowns. Ivy pushed the traitorous thoughts from her mind. He was repulsive, and she had been a fool to only see the shiny veneer that protected a rotten core.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance. Your friend was very rude, barging in here and making a scene like that.”

“I want to see her. You have no right to keep me from receiving friends.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Which is why you will be joining her downstairs for tea presently. Well, don’t look at me as if I was a monster! I don’t appreciate people calling unannounced and then making demands. It’s terribly uncouth, and judging from her dress, she is not the sort of person I want my fiancée associating with. But if it would give you peace of mind, then I’m only too happy to oblige.”

“Why would you allow that?” she asked.

“Other than the fact that I don’t like to see you sad?” Arthur crossed to her, crouching and running a thumb along her jaw. She jerked away. “Ivy, I care about you,” he said softly. “I know this isn’t how you thought things would go, but you have to trust me. Besides,” he said, standing, “it wouldn’t do to have the village think that I kidnapped you or something equally macabre. Rumors are nasty things, and they fly fast and plenty around here.”

“I’ll tell her what you’re doing, what your family is doing.”

Arthur tutted, searching his breast pocket for a cigarette. “I think it would go very badly for you if you do, but if you insist then, I’ll have no choice but to tell my side of things.Isn’t it a shame?” he said, affecting a shrill, gossipy voice. “Sir Arthur’s pretty new bride went mad, raves like a lunatic. Well, she was from the gutter, you know. It can hardly be surprising that her upbringing won out over her new title.” His little vignette finished, he lit his cigarette and gave her a meaningful look.

She dug her fingernails into the edge of the bed. Who would ever dare to go against the word of a man, and a lord? If Arthur said Ivy was mad, then she was all but mad in the eyes of the world. She would rot in this room, slowly losing her memories and everything about her that made her Ivy Radcliffe, and marry the man who had put her here. There was no one to save her, and she was rapidly losing the ability to save herself.

“So, you will have a lovely tea with your friend, and assure her that all is well. And if you need another reason to comply, I’ll give you one.” At this, he came closer, taking her chin in his hand, tilting it up to him with more force than was necessary. “If you so much asbreathea word of nonsense about the Sphinxes or the manuscript, I will cut off the ear of that chauffeur that so obviously is in love with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ivy managed to ask from dry lips.

Arthur gave her a patronizing look. “Oh, please. It’s obvious the man is obsessed with you. Stares after you long after you’ve passed by and can hardly keep the hunger out of his eyes. Disgusting, really.”

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