The butler looked at Athena. She nodded. “This is between Miss Hockensmith and me. I will not be requiring your services tonight. You may tell Fran that she may also retire.”
“You need only call, Miss Munroe.” He left without a backward glance at Cecily.
The moment the door was closed, Cecily advanced on Athena. Her fists were clenched, and for all her fine garments and meticulous coiffure, she looked like nothing so much as a fishwife.
“Make no mistake,” she hissed, “I will stop you.” She reached for Athena’s arm. Athena batted her hand away. Cecily gasped and fell back a step.
“Good Lord,” she said. “You are brazen! I will advise your brother to send you to a madhouse!”
“In that case, let me give you a good reason for the recommendation.” Athena smiled, and the wolf crouched on its haunches and prepared to spring. Cecily struck again, bent upon knocking her off balance. Athena twisted to the side, allowing Cecily to strike the wall, and pulled the older woman’s arm behind her back.
Cecily shrieked. Athena kept her grip with surprising ease, reaching deep within for the strength of the wolf, the strength she had known and embraced before the accident.
“You might as well give up,” she said. “You cannot hurt me, but I might hurt you if you struggle.”
All the fight went out of Cecily, and Athena began to relax. She saw the flash of light on metal an instant before the hairpin plunged toward her shoulder.
Deftly she spun Cecily about and dodged the makeshift weapon. The silver hairpin scraped across the door and fell to the carpet. Athena growled.
She growled, just as Morgan did, teeth bared. Cecily forgot to cry out in pain and shrank away from her in horror.
“I warned you,” Athena said. “You had better leave this house at once.” She released Cecily, who stumbled away, clutching her wrist.
“What are you?” she whispered.
“You may pray that you never find out.” She stepped aside, leaving the doorway clear. Cecily did not need further encouragement. She rushed past Athena and scurried into the hall, her dark hair falling loose about her shoulders.
The front door slammed. Athena leaned against the door and felt her body’s reaction to what she had done. Her legs no longer cramped and trembled, but they would not hold her up much longer. She was living on energy borrowed from the very wolf she had only begun to acknowledge.
She knew she had to act before that energy gave out. There was no leisure to contemplate how dramatically she had changed, or how close she had come to real violence. No time for regrets or second thoughts. By the time the sun rose, she would be well on her way toward the mountains. And Morgan.
Bracing herself against any surface within reach, she made her way out of the library, into the hall, and back to the sitting room. Brinkley came to her before she had the chance to call.
“Miss Hockensmith has left us,” she said, finding a seat on the nearest chair. “I don’t believe she will be back. I would appreciate your help, if you still feel able to give it.”
“I do, Miss Munroe. And so do the others. Your maid is prepared to resign with the rest of us, if necessary.”
Athena closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the chair. “Thank you, but I think I am capable of doing this alone.”
“Shall I ask Romero to prepare a carriage. Miss Munroe?”
Would Brinkley be so cooperative if he knew she intended to ride rather than take a carriage? “I will speak to him later. For the moment, I would like to go up to my room.”
Brinkley offered his assistance, and she permitted herself the luxury of riding up in the elevator rather than taking the stairs. Once in her room, she shut the door and leaned against it, well aware that her plans were pitifully tenuous.
The boy’s trousers and oversized flannel shirt were still in the chest where she had packed them away years ago. The trousers were too large, but with the help of a pair of her brother’s suspenders they fit well enough. She had Brinkley retrieve her shearling jacket from the storage closet and asked Monsieur Savard to pack a meal to carry with her on the road.