Wither (The Chemical Garden #1)

Wither (The Chemical Garden #1) Page 25

“But it’s a new building.”

“Can’t I go to a christening party?” Cecily says.

Linden puts his hand on her stomach and says, “But your job is here, love. And don’t you see how important it is?”

“Once the baby is born,” she says.

He smiles and kisses her. She lets him, and it’s clear that they’ve been this familiar for a while. “Then you’ll have the baby to look after,” he says.

“Elle can care for the baby sometimes.” She’s starting to get upset, and Linden says this is something they can discuss privately later, and she says, “No, now.” There are tears in her eyes, and she’s forgotten all about the pregnancy book and has discarded it on my lap.

“Cecily . . . ,” I say.

“It’s not fair!” She turns to me. “I’ve given him everything, and I deserve to go to a party if I want to. What have you done? What have you given up?”

So many things, Cecily. More than you know.

Anger is burning inside of me, making my bones hurt. She’s pushing me, and I’m trying so hard to keep quiet. I have to. I have to, because if I say the truth now, then I’ll forever be a prisoner. And I won’t give her this expo or any of the parties to follow, because they are mine. My only chances to show my brother that I’m alive, to find a way out of this place. I deserve this. Not her.

Her eyes are big and full of tears. Her sobs are wet and full of hiccups, and Linden picks her up—her small, swollen body in his arms—and he carries her away. I can hear her wailing across the hall.

I sit in the bed, fuming, staring at the lilies she brought me a few days ago. They’re starting to come apart. Petals have fallen around the vase and shriveled into scraps of tissue paper. It’s like looking at the open eyes of a pretty corpse.

Cecily’s good intentions never last long.

Gabriel and I have been very careful about how we inter-act. I could spend a whole morning thinking about our one kiss, and when he shows up to bring me lunch, all we’ll do is talk about the weather. He tells me it’s getting colder and he thinks there’ll be snow.

“Did you bring Cecily her lunch yet?” I ask him, as he’s fitting the tray onto my lap. Being confined to my bed makes it hard for us to see each other. I can’t follow him as he works or steal a moment with him in one of the gardens.

“Yes,” he grumbles. “She threw a gravy boat at me.”

I laugh in spite of myself. “She didn’t.”

“Because she wanted a twice baked potato, not once baked. Surprisingly good aim for a girl in her condition.”

He says that last part sarcastically. We all know that Cecily isn’t nearly as delicate as Linden or Vaughn thinks.

“She’s in a lovely mood.”

“That may be my fault,” I say. “Last night Linden told me he’s thinking about taking me to some kind of party for his building designs, and she had a fit because he didn’t ask her instead.”

He makes a face, and sits on the edge of my bed.

“You’re interested in a christening party?”

“Gabriel,” I say softly, “it may be my only way out.”

He looks at me for a while, face unreadable, and then he looks at his lap. “I guess it’s not the worst escape plan you’ve had, is it?”

“Hard to argue. I’m sitting here in four different casts.”

“Is it really so bad here?” he asks. Then panic fills his eyes. “Is the House Governor forcing you to do anything—you know—in bed?” His cheeks are on fire.

“No!” I say. I reach out and put my hand over his. “It’s nothing like that. Gabriel, I can’t stay here for the rest of my life.”

“Why not? What has the free world got that you can’t get here?” he says.

“My brother, for starters. My home,” I say. I squeeze his hand; he stares at it uncomprehendingly. “What’s the matter?”

“I think it’s dangerous,” he says. “I think you should stay.”

I don’t recognize this look on his face. It’s not cold or angry like that day by the pool. He’s not bitter. It’s something else. “What if I asked you to come with me?”

“What?”

“That night, in the hurricane. I stood on the lighthouse, and I saw you coming toward me, and I said ‘Run away with me,’ but you didn’t hear. I saw the fence. I was going to try and make it.”

“Right before a giant piece of windmill knocked you unconscious,” he says flatly. “Rhine, it’s dangerous. I know you’re not talking about running off into another hurricane, but what do you expect to do? Do you think he’ll take you to a party and you’ll just walk out the door?”

“Actually, yes, maybe,” I say. It sounded better in my head.

Gabriel moves the tray from between us, and takes both of my hands and leans close. This is a big risk with my door being wide open and everyone home, but for the moment it doesn’t seem to matter. “Whether it’s a hurricane or a party, it’s the same,” he says. “It’s dangerous. The House Governor is not going to let you just walk away, and neither is the Housemaster. It was months before he’d even let you open your window or leave the mansion, and guess what? Housemaster Vaughn is talking about revoking those privileges.”

“How do you know that?” I say.

“He told all the attendants that if you or Cecily or Jenna wants to use our key cards for the elevator, we have to clear it with him.”

“When was this?”

“While you were hooked up to five different machines fighting for your life,” he says.

“I wasn’t fighting for my life,” I say, squeezing his hands. “If I’d had my way, I would have died right there and it wouldn’t have mattered. But do you know what keeps me going every day? That river. Rhine. I think my parents gave me that name for a reason. I think it means I’m supposed to go somewhere. This is me fighting for my life.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know!” It’s so frustrating to have logic thrown at me now. It’s making all my plans seem so hopeless.

“But not here. Anywhere but here. Now, will you come with me or not?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’d leave without me?”

“No,” I say. “I’ll drag you kicking and screaming.” I’m grinning, and eventually he breaks down and flashes me his rare smile.

“You’re insane, you know that?” he says.

“It’s the only thing keeping me afloat,” I say. He leans toward me, and I feel that rush of exhilaration telling me we’re about to kiss. My eyes are just closing, and his hand brushes across my cheek, when a knock on the door frame interrupts.

“Sorry to intrude,” Deirdre says, indicating the tray in her hands. “Housemaster Vaughn asked me to bring you some aspirin.”

Gabriel withdraws, but I can see in his eyes that he wants to touch me. All he says is, “See you later.”

“See you.”

Once he’s gone, Deirdre hands me two white pills and a glass of water. “You weren’t intruding,” I say, once I’ve downed the pills. “Nothing was going on between Gabriel and me—I mean—”

My cheeks burn as I fumble for the right words, but Deirdre only smiles. “It’s all right,” she says. “Housemaster Vaughn isn’t even here. After he asked me to bring you the aspirin, he was called to the hospital.” She moves to my dressing table and returns with a tube of lip balm, which she smears across my chapped lips. Then she moves on to fluffing my pillow. “It’s a nice day. Would you like me to open the window?”

“I’m all right,” I say. She stops fussing over me long enough for me to see the concern in her eyes. My faithful little domestic. “Really, I’m okay.”

“What did the Housemaster say to you?” she whispers, startling me.

“What?”

“While you were sleeping—at least I thought you were sleeping. I came to bring you a new pillow, but Housemaster Vaughn was in here and he told me to leave.” She looks guiltily at her feet. “I stayed in the hallway. I tried to listen in. I’m sorry; I know I shouldn’t have. It’s just . . .”

There are tears welling in her eyes. It’s so unlike her that at first I think my fever is back and I’m hallucinating. “It’s just that I thought he was going to hurt you.”

I reach for her hand, which is trembling. “Why would you think that?”

“Oh, Rhine,” she sobs. “If you were trying to run away, you can’t try it again. You’ll never get out, and he’ll make life here miserable for you.”

“I wasn’t trying to run away,” I say.

She shakes her head. “But if he thinks you did, that’s what matters. You don’t understand. You don’t understand what he’s like when he doesn’t get his way.”

“Deirdre.” I gently pull her toward me. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Tears are streaming down her face. She hiccups.

“Lady Rose never wanted a baby—she never did. She and Housemaster Vaughn used to argue all the time. She didn’t believe he was going to find the antidote, and she didn’t want another child to be born just so it would die. He called her a pro-naturalist. I could hear them screaming at each other. Once, I had to hide in the closet while I was putting away her laundry, I was so afraid to get in the middle of it.”

She sits down on the edge of my bed, swipes the tears from her eyes, but more come. “And when she got pregnant, even though she hadn’t planned on it, she was excited. She asked me to teach her to knit, and she made a blanket for the crib.” The memory makes her smile, but that smile is quickly gone. “When she went into labor, Linden was away at an expo. And her pain was so extreme that Housemaster Vaughn kept her heavily sedated. When she came out of it a few hours later, and he told her the baby girl didn’t make it, she didn’t believe him. She said she’d heard the baby cry. He told her she was delirious, that the baby was born dead.”

The room suddenly seems darker, colder. Deirdre says, “But I was changing the incense in the hallway, and I heard it cry too. Housemaster Vaughn told Lady Rose, ‘You want the human race to die, and it looks like you got your wish.’”

I can hear Vaughn’s voice in the words, and my heart breaks as though the words were meant for me. I can see Rose, alive and bereft, touching her stomach where hours earlier her child had moved inside her. I wish she’d told me this story herself when she was alive, because now I feel an overwhelming need to hug her and tell her how sorry I am that it happened. I sense that the fire she felt toward Vaughn is as strong as mine. Maybe the only reason she endured him at all was her love for Linden.