He had a particularly oily smile, Portia thought with distaste. Oily and utterly untrustworthy. And he was needling Olivia, she could feel it. For whatever reason, Olivia feared him and he knew it. And he was enjoying himself, toying with her.
“What a good idea,” she said, turning back to link her arm through Olivia’s. “Let’s show Mr. Morse the gallery, Olivia.”
This was not what Brian had intended. He considered it beneath his dignity to keep company with this scarecrow, whose status in the household was somewhat less than that of paid nursery maid. But the temptation to amuse himself with Olivia was too great, and he was confident that he could squash the pretensions of Jack Worth’s bastard once he was alone with the two girls. Olivia after all had never given him any trouble.
In the narrow corridor, he took Olivia’s free arm and drew her firmly beside him, so that Portia was forced to drop behind. Portia promptly slithered sideways between Olivia and the wall and walked crablike with her back to the wall.
Brian ignored her completely. “S-s-so, little s-sister,” he said mockingly, “I w-was hoping f-for a much w-warmer w-welcome.”
Portia’s anger rose as she felt Olivia’s distress. She plunged into battle, drawing his attention forcibly away from Olivia.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, you nasty little man?”
Brian looked so astounded that Olivia forgot her terror for a minute and almost laughed.
“You look like some kind of dung beetle in that black velvet,” Portia continued. “But I imagine you’re so accustomed to occupying the dizzying heights of a dung heap that it feels like protective coloring. Did no one ever tell you that when you have particularly scrawny shanks, black velvet is a mistake. It exaggerates the- ”
She broke off and ducked as he swung at her, his face almost purple with astonished fury. “You’ll have to be quicker than that to catch me, Mr. Dung Beetle,” she taunted. “Mr. Slubberdegullion Whoreson, who’s too much of a coward to pick a fight with someone who can give him one back.” She danced backward down the corridor, giving him an obscene gesture, as Brian gobbled for words.
“Cat got your tongue? See, Olivia, this piece of gutter slime is going to swallow his tongue in a minute.” With impeccable timing, she reached behind her and opened the door onto her own chamber. Deftly seizing Olivia by the wrist, she pulled her in behind her and kicked the door shut, throwing the bolt.
Olivia laughed and laughed. She collapsed against the door as it shivered beneath a violent onslaught from the apoplectic Brian Morse.
“How could you?” Olivia gasped, wiping her streaming eyes. “How did you dare to say those things?”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Portia scoffed. “I have a much broader vocabulary than that. Just listen to this.” She went to the door and whispered through the keyhole. It was a penetrating whisper but the words were not ones Olivia had ever heard. She didn’t need to be told they were unimaginably indecent, however, and hugged herself as silence fell outside. It was an astonished, incredulous silence and into it Portia continued to speak, softly and utterly fluently, ending with a flourish as she likened the unfortunate Mr. Morse’s male organ to that of a particularly runty piglet’s.
There was no response. Olivia had ceased laughing and merely gazed in awe at Portia, who leaned back against the door, arms folded, grinning. “That silenced him,” she declared after a minute. “And in future maybe he’ll be a little careful whom he decides to mock.”
“He’ll never forgive you,” Olivia said.
“So I should hope,” Portia said cheerfully. “I’d rather roll in a muck heap than have that bully’s forgiveness. Anyway, I’ve only just started on Mr. Morse. By the time I’ve finished with him, he’s not going to know his arse from his elbow.”
Very softly she drew back the bolt and opened the door a crack. The corridor was deserted. “Do you know which is his chamber?”
“We c-can’t go in there.” The terror was back in Olivia’s eyes again and her voice shook.
“He won’t catch us, don’t worry. But do you know?”
Olivia shook her head. “But Bailey will.”
“Good, then you can ask him. Now, come on. We have to go to the privy.” She grabbed up her cloak, slinging it around her shoulders.
“What for?” Olivia asked before she realized how idiotic a question it was.
“Not the usual.” Portia slipped out of the room. “Come.” She beckoned her, took her hand, and ran with her down the passage to the kitchen stairs.
The kitchen was as usual a hive of activity, and no one paid attention to the two girls as they slid through and out into the kitchen yard. The outhouse was at the far end of the kitchen garden, where its product could be put to good use. Olivia, cloakless, shivered as they ran down the path toward the glow of lamplight that hung above the door, but she didn’t ask further questions, merely waited for Portia to reveal her plan.
Portia lifted the lamp off the hook at the door and entered the noisome shed. She handed the lamp to Olivia. “Hold it up high.”
“But what are we looking for?”
“Spiders,” Portia said. “They like the corners of privies. There are some big red spotted ones sometimes, and they bite.”
Olivia had no idea what Portia intended, but she couldn’t help a little giggle, shivering as a gust of wind banged the door shut and the lantern flickered.
“Ah… here we are. Oh? aren’t you a beauty,” Portia murmured lovingly, as she knelt on the hard-packed earth. “What lovely big spots you have,” she crooned, taking a handkerchief out of her pocket. “There we go, in you pop.” She folded the handkerchief over her treasure. “Now let’s see if we can find another.”
Olivia didn’t care for spiders, but she was utterly fascinated and leaned forward to watch Portia’s painstaking examination of the darkest corners of the privy.
“Someone’s coming,” she whispered, hearing a footstep on the path.
“So what? No one’s going to question what we’re doing in the privy.” Portia scooped a second and particularly juicy specimen into the handkerchief.
“I always use the chaise percee in my chamber,” Olivia said doubtfully.
Portia only shook her head and continued with her collecting. When she had half a dozen in assorted sizes, she straightened carefully. She laid a finger on her lips and opened the door. A kitchen maid stood on the path. “Evenin‘, miss.” Her eyes widened as Olivia followed Portia, holding the lamp.
“Evenin‘, Lady Olivia.”
“G-good evening, Mary.” Olivia handed her the lamp with what she hoped was aplomb and followed Portia’s blithe step back up the path to the lights of the kitchen.
“Find out which chamber the snake has,” Portia instructed, holding her hand carefully against her skirts beneath the folds of her cloak. “And hurry. Because they’re getting restless and I don’t want to get bitten myself.”
Olivia nodded and wandered over to the servants’ table, where Bailey was addressing a platter of sirloin and a tankard of ale. Portia left the kitchen and waited for Olivia at the head of the kitchen stairs. “Well?”
“In the east bastion. But Bailey doesn’t know if he’s in there now.”
“Mmmm.” Portia frowned, nibbling her lip. “That could be awkward.” She examined Olivia carefully. “If he’s in there, we’ll have to decoy him. It’ll only take a minute. Could you do that?”
“Be alone with him?” Olivia shook her head vigorously.
“It’ll only take a minute,” Portia urged, realizing on some level that Olivia needed to face down whatever demon was embodied in Brian Morse. “I won’t be far away, I swear it.”
Olivia swallowed, squared her shoulders. “You p-promise?”
“I promise. Come on. They’re doing spidery things all over the place.” She set off down the corridor, and after a hesitation, Olivia followed.
They stopped outside the door to Brian Morse’s chamber. Portia flattened herself against the wall behind the door and gestured to Olivia that she should knock.