Bewitching Season (28 page)

To Persy’s surprise, Mr. Carrighar dropped to one knee beside Ally and took her hands. He raised

one and brushed a kiss across its back. “If only I could, my dear. You know how I feel about this dirty

task. But he owns me, just as he owns you.”

Ally stiffened. “He does nothing of the sort.”

Mr. Carrighar sighed. “But he does, dear one, he does. What does it matter, this little undertaking?

She’ll never know what has happened, he’ll get what he wants, and then we’ll be free. There’s no

other way—believe me, if there were, I would have found it. Help me, and then we can leave here

and make a new life together. You can come home with me to Ireland—you would make an admirable

professor’s wife—”

“Michael!” Ally looked away. Mr. Carrighar snapped his fingers and produced a handkerchief,

with which he gently dabbed at a tear that slid down her pale cheek.

“Melusine, I’m not sure if these weeks have been heaven or hell.” His voice was now as hoarse as

hers had been. “They’ve brought me sleepless nights of anxiety over what he might do to my family if

I fail him … and they’ve brought me you. I must help him … and I must convince you too. I can’t lose

you now.”

“And what if I refuse?”

Mr. Carrighar swallowed. “If you won’t help of your own free will, I’ll have to force you.

Melusine, please don’t make me do that. Better give in than be destroyed.”

Persy gasped, and the scene in her teacup vanished. With a loud cry, she flung her cup away. Tea

sprayed across her visiting dress, and the cup bounced unharmed on the carpet and came to rest under

the tea table.

“My dear child!” Princess Sophia stared at her as Pen and the lady-in-waiting leapt forward with

napkins and concerned exclamations. “Are you ill?”

Though Persy tried to stop them, tears ran down her cheeks. “Pen, it was Ally. I heard her,” she

whispered. “I saw her.”

Pen stopped dabbing at her dress and stared too. “What? Did you … what did she say? Where—”

she began eagerly, then glanced at the princess and the lady-in-waiting.

Princess Sophia followed her glance and frowned. “Mary, pray take away these wet napkins. I will

ring when we want you.” She pulled her own handkerchief from her belt and leaned forward to dry

Persy’s tears. When her woman had left with the wet linen, she turned to Persy and took her hand.

“What was it, my dear? You can tell me.”

Her voice was low and soothing. Persy needed comforting very badly just then. “It was—it was a

sort of vision,” she said.

Pen handed her a fresh cup of tea. “Are you sure you should—”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She turned back to the princess. “I don’t know who else to turn to, and I hope—

we hope”—she glanced at Pen—“that you can help.”

“Of course! A vision, you say? How interesting! Do you often have them? What are they about?”

Excitement overtook the princess’s concern.

Persy sipped her tea and tried to frame her words carefully. “It was about our governess, who is

missing.”

Princess Sophia blinked. “Your governess is missing, and you’re having visions of her? But that is

amazing! Do you see her in these visions? Do you know where she is? She has not”—her voice

dropped to a whisper—“
passed over
, has she?”

“No, no! We have reason to think that she’s here at Kensington Palace,” Pen said when Persy

remained silent.

Princess Sophia laughed. “Oh my dears, that is quite … quite … goodness, you’re serious, aren’t

you?” Her eyes, magnified by her spectacles, grew even wider. “Do you truly think she’s here? But

why?”

“It’s hard to explain. But we’re quite sure that she’s being kept in this palace against her will. I

hoped—we hoped that we could ask your help. But please, you mustn’t tell anyone.”

“Me? Really? What would you like me to do?” Princess Sophia asked eagerly. For a moment she

looked more like a child of six than a woman of sixty.

“Look for her,” said Pen. “We can’t do that here, but you can.”

“Well …” The princess drummed her fingers on her knee thoughtfully. “I cannot search

everywhere. I doubt my brother Sussex or the dear duchess would approve of my poking about their

apartments. But anywhere else … your poor, dear governess! Who could have done such a dreadful

thing?”

There was a knock at the door, and the footman scurried in. “Sir Jo—” he began to announce, but

Sir John Conroy had already swept past him.

Persy cringed. She did not wish to explain her tear-stained cheeks or tea-spattered dress to this

dreadful man, but couldn’t hope he wouldn’t notice them, for his lazy-lidded gray eyes seemed to see

everything. She looked at the princess and hoped she could lie well on her feet.

“What do you think, my dear Sir John?” Princess Sophia crowed. “These dear girls have lost their

governess, and think she’s here in the palace! Is that not singular? Persephone has even had visions

about it.”

Persy saw Pen close her eyes and exhale, as if in pain. She herself would have cheerfully stuffed

the princess’s handkerchief into her royal mouth and jumped out a window. Hadn’t they just asked the

princess not to tell anyone?

But Sir John only raised an eyebrow as he seated himself opposite them. “You don’t say? Well,

there’s no telling who might be lost in this old brickpile. I don’t wish to offend you, ma’am, but I

never did trust milord Sussex, even though he is your brother. I wouldn’t be surprised if the missing

lady were stuffed in a bookcase somewhere in his library.” His tone was cheerful, even jocular.

Persy hastily buried her nose in her teacup at mention of the Duke of Sussex’s library.

Princess Sophia tittered. “Oh, Sir John. Now really, my friends here have lost a governess and

have asked me to look for her about the palace. You haven’t seen her anywhere, have you?”

“Not I, ma’am. But I shall keep an eye out for her and put her to use if I do.” The half smile that

always seemed to hover around the corners of his mouth deepened. “I trust you’ll forgive my

interruption, ladies, but the Duchess of Kent wished me to ask the princess’s opinion on her dress for

Princess Victoria’s birthday ball. Would you be so kind as to visit her later this afternoon? Such

matters of state cannot be kept waiting.”

Pen’s eyes were wistful. “Princess Victoria’s birthday ball. Mama is having one for us, too, but

she had to put it off a week because they couldn’t be held on the same night, of course. What color

dress shall you wear, ma’am?”

Princess Sophia’s eyebrows rose. “Why, I had nearly forgotten that you girls and dear Victoria

have the same birthday. What fun! My goodness, you should be there to celebrate it too. Sir John,

wouldn’t the duchess be delighted to see that invitations are sent to the Misses Leland? I’m sure she

would as a favor to me, especially when she hears about your birthdays.”

Persy’s irritation with the princess vanished. “Really, ma’am? Do you think she would invite us?”

“I’ll make sure that she does.” Sir John rose and bowed. “I’ve delivered my message, and I ought

to be getting back. So many details to see to in these last weeks. I’m sure you understand, ma’am.”

“Indeed I do, Sir John. Please assure the duchess I shall wait upon her shortly. And do not forget to

take care of my friends’ invitations.” Princess Sophia nodded to him.

“Forget the two P’s in a pod?” His smile was wide as he bowed again. “Not for the world. Good

day.”

After he had left, Princess Sophia beamed at them. “What fun this will be! Of course it will be the

event of the season, and I am so happy that you will be there for it. I shall tell Victoria about it being

your birthdays too when I visit.”

Pen still looked transfixed. “Wait until we tell Mama!”

The invitations to Princess Victoria’s eighteenth birthday ball arrived the very next day. Mama was

slightly mystified but delighted.

“It was immensely kind of Princess Sophia to see that you girls were invited,” she said as the three

of them gloated over the thick, cream-colored cards. “We must see to your dresses at once.”

“Face to face with your heroine at last. Will you be able to stand it without being translated to the

Elysian Fields on the spot?” Papa grinned at them from the doorway; two of the maids could be heard

whispering in the hall about the handsome livery of the footman who had delivered the invitations.

“We’ll try not to levitate too much, Papa,” Pen answered him.

From the deep chair by the fireplace Charles snickered. “I’d be careful about that, if I were you.”

“Isn’t there some geometry you ought to be studying, Charles?” said Persy in sweetly chill tones.

But it was hard to be cross with anyone just then. They might even be able to meet the princess, to

smile and exchange a few words with her, to touch her hand!

That night at Mrs. Cheke-Bentinck’s party, Persy’s mood was still high. Lord Carharrick, who had

maneuvered her into joining a small group touring their hostess’s celebrated orangery, commented on

it.

“You seem different tonight.” He paused under a lamp in the humid glass-walled room and turned

her to face him. “Radiant. Not that you generally aren’t, as far as I can see.”

Persy laughed. Tonight she could, even at such foolish talk. “My sister and I have been invited to

Princess Victoria’s birthday ball. The king’s sister took a liking to us when we were presented. She

has asked us to visit several times, and saw to it that we were sent invitations. They arrived just this

afternoon. Pen and I have always admired the princess—Victoria, I mean, though Princess Sophia has

been exceedingly kind to us.”

Lord Carharrick nodded. “Princess Sophia,” he said slowly. “Not at the center of court by any

means, but not without some influence, so it seems.”

“She’s a very kind and, I believe, very lonely old lady. She says that our company cheers her up,”

Persy said defensively.

Lord Carharrick held out his arm again, and they resumed their stroll through the banks of small

citrus trees, laden now with small green fruit. The slates of the floor were cool through Persy’s

slippers. She shivered though the air was warm and damp. Lord Carharrick held her arm a little

closer. “Your grandmother the Duchess of Revesby is in service at court, isn’t she?”

“She’s a lady-in-waiting to the queen,” Persy agreed. Something about this conversation was

beginning to annoy her but she wasn’t sure why.

“A position of honor, and of some use politically to your grandfather, I’m sure, though personal

service to the sovereigns is supposed to transcend such mundane considerations.”

“Grandmama loves Queen Adelaide! She says she is a dear, kind person. She doesn’t serve the

queen just to gain favor for the family. She considers herself the queen’s
friend.”
Persy suppressed an

urge to pluck a handful of the hard little green oranges and throw them at him.

“Oh, I’m sure that she is. I admire her for her loyalty to the queen. But it is a fact that service at

court can have beneficial, if unintended, side effects. You know your history well enough for that, I

am sure.” Lord Carharrick’s assurances were quick and smooth and totally unsatisfactory. She opened

her mouth to protest once more, but he hadn’t finished.

“Service to the crown often runs in families. An acquaintance with Princess Victoria on your part

now might prove to be a useful thing someday,” he said, squeezing her arm ever so slightly. “I

applaud your friendship with Princess Sophia, and I hope that it leads you on to even greater

associations with the court in the future.”

Persy nearly stammered with fury “If you think we’re toadying up to poor old Princess Sophia just

to get at Princess Victoria—”

“I said no such thing, Persephone.” When she tried to yank her arm from his, he turned her to face

him and held her by the elbows. His eyes were dark and serious. “I admire you for taking the time to

be kind to a lonely old lady. It shows your inherent amiability. And if your virtue should be rewarded

someday, what is wrong with that? Who else could be more deserving?”

“But that’s not it at all,” she protested, and tried to pull away again. He ignored her and tucked her

arm in his once more.

“A wife with connections at court can be a very valuable asset,” he said, almost to himself. “It is

very definitely something to consider. I wonder, Persephone, if your father will be at his club in the

next day or so? Or should I direct a note to him at home asking if I might call upon him?”

He had called her Persephone twice in the last three minutes. An icy breath of apprehension

whispered in her mind. And mumbling on about wives with connections was an extremely ominous

sign. Persy bit her lip and stared down at the toes of her slippers as they caught up to the rest of the

group touring the greenhouse.

As they were about to leave the room Lord Carharrick paused and looked back at the rows of

potted trees. “I shall always have a soft place in my heart for orangeries, after this evening. Perhaps,