wanderinghamsa (wanderinghamsa) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2018-03-29 22:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | arabella ward, una nicnevin, zipporah bakst |
Who: Zipporah Bakst, Arabella Ward, Una Nicnevin
What: A reunion, and a strategic plan
Where: Una's London home
When: February 22, 1889 [backdated, the morning after this]
Rating: PG
Before she’d fallen asleep - nearly the moment her head touched the pillow, on a downy guest bed in Countess Ravensworth’s house - Arabella had formulated a plan. Balmore had told Arabella the date, which was two days since her appointment at the bank and subsequent disappearance from Mr Mac’s office. It had been too late for her to return home without waking the household, and Arabella had no story anyone would believe.
By the time they’d walked an hour or more across London, Arabella had engineered an excuse. Balmore had said she could do what Arabella asked with glamour, but Arabella didn’t want to take any risks. It would be better to suffer a little, than to cause her father to suffer any more by believing she’d lied to him--even if she had.
In the morning, Balmore sent her coach to the Bakst residence so early it was hardly dawn, and Arabella rose exhausted to join her at the breakfast table. She’d needed to be woken by the maid, but it was what she had requested; the sooner she could set her father’s mind at peace, the better.
When Zipporah arrived, Arabella was in a clean borrowed frock and sipping her second cup of tea at the table. On seeing her friend, she rose, unsure whether Zipporah knew to be worried, and guilty if so. “Zipporah,” she said, relief trembling in her voice.
Zipporah was used to house calls at all hours, and it’d taken all of a minute to pull on her dress and coat and grab her doctor’s bag. She’d been so focused on getting out the door, she hadn’t even registered who was requesting her presence and for what purpose until she’d seen the carriage outside.
Seeing Arabella standing there looking drawn and weary made her close the distance across the room in a few hurried strides, relief and worry written over her face, her bag dropped unceremoniously along the way. “Oh, Arabella,” she cried out as she reached her friend, pulling her close into an embrace and kissing her cheeks, “it is good for to see you. I was so worried when you did not come to the tea, and I went calling, and your father had not seen you, and was worried as well, and oh,” she said, a waver in her own, “oh, I am so glad you are here. Please,” she exclaimed, holding Arabella’s hand in hers. “Please, sit. What has happened? Are you alright?”
Arabella sat, though she didn't let go of Zipporah's hand, pulling her toward the next chair. "I'm all right," she said, trying to be reassuring. "I have so much to tell you, but I must ask you a favor first, if you are willing. You will let me know if it would cause you any harm, or violate an oath? I'm sorry to ask, but I've found no better way."
She drew in a breath, and asked directly, "As a healer, can you make me ill? Feverish, weak, only for a while? I've been missing for three nights, and my father must be frantic, but I cannot tell him the truth. Countess Ravensworth has agreed to say I have been here and ill since I left home."
Arabella realized that she'd forgotten one crucial point, and added sincerely, "I am sorry to have worried you. It was not by choice. I'll tell you everything, but I need to set things in motion so that the countess can send word to my father."
Zipporah blinked, and then nodded. “Yes, of course,” she said. “There is a way for to heat the blood, to help with the infections, and I can ensure it will not get out of hand. If it is for good reason, it should not be a trouble. Three nights?” She exclaimed. “Your father, he… he did not say how long you had been gone, but I could tell he was beside himself.” She gave Arabella’s hand a squeeze. “It would not take much, for to make it look as though you’ve been ill. You are so pale.”
Dr Ward was a distracted scientist who showed affection for his pragmatic alchemist daughter by blinking in pleased surprised whenever he found her home, and asking if she'd read the latest British Mineralogy Society paper. He had been subdued, she gathered, since the death of his wife, and found peace in work, and in the company of his daughter. She did not like that she'd been the reason his behavior had changed.
Balmore was not in the room, but Arabella didn't fool herself thinking that they could not be heard if Balmore wished to listen. She kept her voice low and serious, but not as though she were trying to hide anything. There was nothing for her to hide.
"I've been in Faerie."
Zipporah’s grip on Arabella’s hand tightened. “I do not know much of that place,” she said, quietly, “only that it can be a trial for peoples who find themselves there. How…” she searched Arabella’s features. “How long were you there? I am beyond glad you are back.”
She bit her lip, and her eyes filled with tears. “I thought I saw you,” she added, her voice low. “In a mirror, just a glimpse, while we were at tea, you were calling out… and before I could tell her, Una had left on urgent matters, and I tried for to see you again when I was back home, but nothing happened…” she shook her head. “I should have said something. I am glad you are back.”
Arabella leaned forward at the sight of tears in Zipporah's eyes, embracing her, for she didn't think that Zipporah shed tears often, either. "I saw you, too," Arabella told her. "I cut my hand on the rocks, and smeared blood on the glass, and I saw you drinking tea and laughing. You said my name. You called me your dear friend, and I climbed with more strength to get back to you. And then Balmore came and found me, the Countess Ravensworth, and brought me out. It was only a little more than two days, but it felt longer. There was a cavern, filled with ice, and stairs that went on and on..."
Arabella stopped herself before saying more, though in truth there wasn't much more she could say. She hardly understood any of it herself, and there had been little enough in that place, only the rocks and the eerie blue light and the ice.
"I did call for you," Arabella said fiercely. "I'm glad that you heard me."
“And I prayed for you,” Zipporah replied, leaning over to kiss Arabella’s forehead.
She reached for Arabella’s hands, then, turning over the palms to look at them, frowning a little at the unmarred skin before kissing them too, and looking up at Arabella, clasping her hands once more. “How did you end up in such a place?” She asked. “The veil between worlds, it has grown harder for to pass through of late, were you taken there? Did you take a wrong turn?”
Which was when Una bustled in in her morning frock, all smiles and appearing as refreshed as if she'd slept all night and not been up before dawn to arrange for the message to Zipporah, and certainly not as if she'd been on an unending stair and dragged Arabella home through the street. "Good morning, ladies! I hope you've had a chance to enjoy--oh, yes, do eat and drink freely and without obligation, especially you, Zipporah. And I now must apologise for departing tea so abruptly but you see that I had an urgent task." Una beamed at Arabella before turning to Zipporah.
"You have heard the plan? Will you be able to do what is necessary?"
Zipporah nodded, and gave Arabella’s hand a squeeze. “Yes, of course. It is easily enough done, and I am glad for to be of help.” She paused, searching for the right words, knowing thanks would provide offence. “I am… I am very glad you left when you did, for such a worthy undertaking.”
"I only wish I had been free to tell you what I was doing, so you would not have worried." Una took her place at the table and began to fill her plate. "I was apprised of her situation by Conall Mac Ruadh, since he could not go where she was without an invitation," she explained. "And I do not require such. There was a matter of some scrying but the bulk of the work was climbing the stair."
Because Zipporah was at the table, Una could not explain that climbing the stair, or walking down it, was a skill of magic that Arabella would learn, but Arabella had exercised a power that she had not even known existed until Mac had explained her origins, to the extent that she understood it now. There was a reason she was so exhausted and it had nothing to do with the long night walk back from Hampstead or treading up the stair.
Though she ought to ask Zipporah to pay special attention to poor Arabella's feet, as they were probably in terrible shape.
“You are very brave,” Zipporah replied, looking Arabella’s way, “and strong of will and body. Both of you. Is there a danger of it happening again?” She asked, her forehead wrinkling. If Mac couldn’t enter without permission, how had Arabella ended up in such a place?
Una knew she was the best equipped with knowledge to answer the question. "Nothing is impossible, but it seems very unlikely to me." There was more to it than that, of course, especially with the veils thickening, but it was as much of an answer as she could give without saying more than she should.
There was more that Arabella wanted to say to Zipporah, but this was not the time or place. "I do not believe it will happen again, no. It was an unusual circumstance. I don't want to press, but I am still too strong of body, I'm afraid. What must I do, to make your work easier?"
Curiosity was too strong to abandon the conversation entirely, so Arabella half-turned to Una to ask, "Scrying? Did you see me in a glass, as I saw Zipporah?"
"That is a close enough description of what I did, yes. There is more art to it than that, and a longer explanation." For a moment, Una was drawn back into the long past where she had explained such matters to mortal women and those of the half-blood. These two were not Gwyar and Morgen, and they would not suffer the same fate. Una would see to it. And if her smile wavered for a moment, perhaps it would be overlooked. "But that is for another day, after we have dealt with Mr Ward."
Zipporah nodded. “There is a spell for to make the body have a fever, to purge it of infection, only it must be carefully done so as not to hurt the brain, or last for too long. And there is another for relaxing the muscles, for when we must stop the contractions, or must reach in to pull a baby from the womb, and it will make you feel unsteady, and both will leave your body tired, but should pass by the evening. You will still be coherent,” she added, “and I can come calling, under the premise of seeing if you have returned, and if you are not better, I shall make certain you are.” She paused. “If that seems too much, I could bring on your courses early and strong, which would make you paler and a little weak.”
Arabella considered for a moment. She didn't like the idea of a risk to her mind, but she knew Zipporah would be careful with her, and it seemed a small risk. After the pause for thought, she shook her head.
"I will need my blood soon enough," Arabella explained. "There are things I must do, once I feel well again. No, just the fever and fatigue, please. I trust you."
She had more questions now to ask of Balmore now, as well, but there was not time for everything. She would focus on the task at hand, and make lists once she was home of everything she wished to know and explore. "Will I see you again?" Arabella asked Balmore, studying her frankly with steady eyes.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she was in Balmore's debt, but the folktales Mr Green had given her prevailed on her good sense. She couldn't tell what danger she might put herself in but uttering such things aloud, even if it was by accident, and Balmore with no ill intent. If thanking fairies for their kindness was an insult, claiming to owe them a debt must be worse.
"I would like to know you better," Arabella said instead. "I think it would help me to know myself."
Una pressed her lips together--Zipporah might suspect she was suppressing a smile--and arched her eyebrows. "I went to enough trouble to fetch you back to London that I do not mean to abandon you now that you are here."
Arabella bowed her head, then turned her gaze back to Zipporah. "Let us do it," she suggested, firming her resolve. "Then we can send for my father, and I'll speak with you again tonight." She didn't know whether or not the prohibition on gratitude would count for thanking someone in Balmore's presence as well, so Arabella latched onto Zipporah's hand with both of hers and squeezed, grateful and relieved that Zipporah was here.
“Let us get you to a couch, and have cool cloths at the ready, then.” Zipporah paused, and frowned a little at having to cause her friend any embarrassment on top of the indignities she’d already experienced, and the suffering she was about to endure. She leaned forward. “First, however, you may wish for to avail yourself of the facilities.”