Tod went very still. “A female?”
“A young girl. She’s seen much sorrow in her life, and I wish to give her a brighter future.”
Tod was silent for a long while, frowning up at the emerging stars. “She stays here?” he said at last.
“Only until I can find a suitable home for her.” He gave Tod a coaxing smile. “You’ll like her, Tod. She has spirit.”
The hob hunched his shoulders, his face hidden beneath his thick shock of auburn hair. “As my lord says.”
Donal got to his feet and held out his hand. “Walk with me,” he said. “Tell me all my mother’s gossip from Hartsmere.”
TOD PERCHED on the windowsill and watched the girl sleep. She did not look so terrible now, her small form smothered in blankets and her face relaxed against the pillow. But appearance could so easily deceive. No one knew that better than Tod himself.
Since Donal’s childhood he had been the boy’s closest friend and companion. Together they had wandered the ancient woods of Hartsmere, running with the red deer and conversing with the badgers in their setts. The Fane gifts Donal had inherited from his father had made him an expert healer … and kept him forever apart from those of his mother’s human blood.
But Tod had made certain he was never alone. Wherever Donal went, he followed … except when his master ventured into one of the cities of Iron, which few Fane could tolerate. Only once before had anything or anyone come between them, when the Black Widow caught Donal in her web.
Now there was another.
Tod closed his eyes, almost longing for the tears no true Fane could shed. For the first time in the many years he and Donal had lived at Stenwater Farm, Tod had been banished from the house during the evening meal. “Ivy wouldn’t know what to make of you,” Donal had said. “Perhaps you’ll meet her later, when she’s accustomed to her new life.”
But Tod had taken no comfort in his master’s promise. He had listened to their laughter as they sat at the table, sharing bread and cheese in the warmth of the kitchen. Ivy had gazed at Donal with such a look of gratitude and admiration in her eyes that made Tod’s skin prickle and his hair stand on end. Donal had smiled at her as if she had earned the right to his affection. And Tod had known then that if he were not very, very careful, she would take his place in this small, sheltered world he had learned to call “home.”
Tod glared at the girl, wondering what arcane powers she might possess. He was certain she did not know what she was, and neither did Donal. Perhaps it was his mortal blood that made him blind. Perhaps it was instinct that had drawn him to rescue her, though the gods knew how she had come to be living in the streets of the Iron City.
Whatever the nature of her past, the danger now was very real. Tod was no High Fane to place a curse upon her. All he could do was watch, and wait. And if she did not go to live with some local human family, he would find a way to drive her from Donal’s life.
THE LETTER ARRIVED at Edgecott the evening after Cordelia’s return. Half-dressed for dinner, she dismissed Biddle and sat down at her dressing table. With deliberate care she slit the envelope and removed the neatly folded paper.
When she had finished reading, Cordelia remained at the table and gazed unseeing in the mirror, oblivious to the passage of time until Biddle discreetly tapped on the door to remind her of the impending meal. She let the maid button her into her dress and work her hair into some semblance of order, but even Biddle noticed that her mind was elsewhere.
She and Theodora ate alone, as usual, while Sir Geoffrey dined in his rooms. After Theodora had retired, Cordelia changed into an old dress she reserved for work outdoors and walked across the drive, past the kennels and stables and over the hill to the menagerie.
The animals were often at their most active at dawn and dusk—restless, perhaps, with memories of hunting and being hunted. Othello, the black leopard, paced from one end of his large cage to the other, his meal of fresh mutton untouched. The two Barbary macaques pressed their faces to the bars and barked at Cordelia before scrambling up into the leafless trees that had been erected for their exercise and amusement. The Asian sun bear, Arjuna, lifted his head and snuffled as he awakened from his day’s sleep, but showed no inclination to rise. The North American wolves lay on their boulders and twitched their ears, golden eyes far too dull for such magnificent creatures.
Cordelia sat on the bench facing the pens and rested her chin in her hands. She had done everything Lord Pettigrew recommended when she had set up the menagerie upon her final return to England. The cages were generous and consisted of both interior and exterior shelters, and Cordelia had added tree trunks, branches and boulders collected from the surrounding countryside to lend interest to the enclosures. Each animal had a proper diet carefully prepared by a specially trained groundskeeper. The cages were kept scrupulously clean. The fearful conditions under which the beasts had once lived were a thing of the past.
I want only what is best for you, she thought as the twilight deepened in the woods at the crest of the hill. Why can you not understand?
The animals could not answer. She knew she was mad to hope otherwise. And yet there was a man who talked to such creatures as if they were people, a man who could quiet a rampaging elephant and believed that it spoke to him….
Cordelia rose and walked slowly back to the house. She was absolutely convinced of her own sanity, and perhaps that was part of the problem. She seldom found occasion to ask for help in any of her affairs. Perhaps, for the sake of those dependent upon her, she would have to set aside her pride and seek the assistant of one afflicted with just the very madness she required.
CHAPTER FIVE
STENWATER FARM, A MILE on poorly graded roads beyond the village of Langthorpe, was almost exactly what Cordelia had expected. It had something of the slightly rough and yet unpredictably charming qualities of its owner, and the moment the carriage pulled up in the yard, a round dozen dogs of mixed parentage charged around the farmhouse corner.
Before the horses had a chance to shy or bolt at the unexpected assault, the dogs stopped and sat in a ragged line like schoolboys who had just remembered their manners. The coachman descended from his perch and let down the step, and as Cordelia climbed out she saw the horses twist their necks about to stare at the farmhouse door.
Theodora stepped out after her, pausing to take in the scene. “Are you quite sure that Dr. Fleming will welcome such an unexpected visit?” she asked.
“I do not know if he will welcome it,” Cordelia said, “considering his failure to respond to my letters. However, he is a doctor of veterinary medicine, and as such I assume he is available for consultation.” She followed Theodora’s gaze. “I assure you, the dogs are not vicious.”
“They certainly do not appear to be. I wonder if Dr. Fleming sends such a welcoming committee to greet every guest?”
“I rather doubt he has many guests.” Taking Theodora’s arm, Cordelia started up the flower-lined path. The dogs melted out of her way as she approached, a few wagging their tails while the others looked on solemnly and fell in behind her.
“I feel as if I am being examined like a ewe at market,” Theodora whispered.
“Doubtless Dr. Fleming intends such an effect,” Cordelia said. She strode up the flagstone steps to the porch, smoothed her skirts, and knocked on the door.
It went unanswered for several minutes, though Cordelia was quite sure that she heard noises within the house. Finally the door swung open and an old man, slightly stooped but still of vigorous appearance, peered at the women with raised brows.
“Good morning,” Cordelia said crisply. “I am Mrs. Hardcastle, and this is Miss Shipp. We have come to see Dr. Fleming on a matter of some urgency.”
The