For Darkness Shows the Stars

riding crop against her leg a few more times, and glared at Elliot. Elliot glared back. Then Tatiana opened her mouth and called out, “Father!”
    Elliot sighed.
    Her father appeared in the doorway. “Get dressed, Elliot. And not in black, either. Your grandfather would not have wanted you to look so dismal. Remember, this is a celebration of his life.”
    “She says she’s not going,” Tatiana whined.
    “She most certainly is.”
    “But, Father—”
    “You’re going to the race,” he stated. “Or I shall bar all visitors from the birthing house.”
    Elliot stared at him in bewilderment. If she didn’t attend a party, he would punish an innocent servant and her son. It made no sense whatsoever. None of it had. Putting Dee in the birthing house was a nonsense rule as well. It was nothing but a display of his power over the Posts on the estate. And this—this was nothing more than a display of his power over her. It couldn’t be important to him to see her present at the race. It would only reflect poorly on Tatiana and him if it was revealed that Elliot had chosen not to go.
    It was Elliot who held power over him . She couldn’t help the bark of laughter that bubbled up in her throat, couldn’t prevent the escape of words that seemed to have been awaiting their freedom for years.
    “Really, Father?” she asked. “And how exactly do you intend on implementing that? Will you be guarding it yourself, or do you expect one of the Post foremen to obey your orders in order to break the heart of a mother and son he has known all his life?”
    The second the words were out, she regretted them. Her father’s face turned deadly serious. “You are going to the race, or I will move that Reduced girl out of her private cottage and into the adult barracks. It’s high time she found a man.”
    Elliot caught her breath. No. No, she took it all back. This is what came of spending time with the Posts. She thought she could change the world.
    The baron smiled mirthlessly. “Not so haughty now, are you? Think I don’t have control over my own estate? I do, and I can do much more besides. I can cancel the laborers’ funeral feast. I can change the locks on that room in the barn you’re so very fond of. You think I don’t know what happens on my own lands, Elliot? You think you’re in charge here? I am sick of your disobedience. You are going to the race because I said so.” He turned to go, then paused. “Oh, and Elliot, these penalties shall apply to any further infractions. Consider it a standing order.”
    And then he was gone, leaving Elliot to sink weakly into her chair and Tatiana’s smile to broaden considerably.
    “That will teach you.”
    “Go away, Tatiana.” Elliot shook her head. What had she been thinking? She was supposed to be too smart for this. She had been too smart—for three years, ever since the bad time, she’d been oh-so-careful to work around her father. But he still knew just how to hit her. He always did.
    Tatiana frowned. “Elliot, you think we don’t care about the Reduced. We do. We’re Luddites. We were born to care. But all the little luxuries you provide them—do they make them work any harder? You were once so kind to that Post boy, and how did he repay you? He ran away and left us all without a mechanic. And how has he repaid you now that he’s so rich? Hasn’t that taught you anything? Our job is not to raise them up. It’s to keep them alive and working and here , for the good of us all.”
    Elliot raised her eyes to her sister. “How is the common good served by going to a horse race, Tatiana? When you can explain that, then maybe I will see things your way.”

Thirty-four
     
    THE LUDDITES WHO’D COME to the horse race were a varied lot. It had been so long since the Norths had thrown a house party, Elliot hardly knew what to expect—but the assembled group surprised her. Down in the Channel, things must be changing as quickly as Benedict and the Fleet Posts had hinted at. It was interesting to note which of the visiting Luddites embraced the Post styles and which resisted, more interesting still to see the reactions of the more conservative when Baron North and Tatiana came out in their new, bright velvet clothes. Eyes widened, eyebrows raised, and there were definite whispers among the assembled crowd.
    “This is what comes of taking Post money,” was one comment that Elliot managed to make out.
    “I’d never have thought it of the Norths, but