Bewitching Season (34 page)

Wasn’t that what she’d wanted, before she came to London? To stay quietly at home and dedicate

herself to study?

She was getting everything she thought she wanted, and now she wanted none of it. The only thing

she wanted now was to be one of those girls waltzing before her, with Lochinvar’s hand in hers.

She saw neither Lord Carharrick nor Lochinvar for the rest of the evening, which was mercifully

short, as Mama had promised, so that they would not overtire themselves for tomorrow. Both of them

had probably gone home. She wished she could have done the same.

Instead, she danced with several young men, smiling and chatting so that no one could see her pain.

This was what the rest of her life would be like—smiling through the emptiness. She might as well

get used to it now.

“Persy?”

“Hmm? Coming, Ally.” Persy blinked as Ally’s voice drifted across the lawn to Grandfather’s

Folly. It was a hot day, and the shady summerhouse seemed to be the only place to catch a hint of

breeze. Ally’s call seemed distant and muted, muffled in the warm, muggy air. The usual hum of

wasps in the Folly’s roof nearly drowned it out. She must have fallen asleep—she’d been having the

strangest dreams—

“Persy!”

Persy looked up. Ally was hurrying across the lawn. Her disheveled hair cascaded loose over her

shoulders, and she wore a shawl over her dark afternoon dress. Now, what was Ally doing outside

her room with her hair down, and why was she bundled in a shawl on such a warm day?

“Thank God! Oh, thank God I could reach you! I wasn’t certain that I could. I’ve been trying and

trying.” Ally stumbled up the stairs of the Folly and leaned against one of the pillars, breathing hard.

“What do you mean, reach me? It’s just a short walk from the house.” Persy looked past Ally at the

length of green velvet lawn edged with trees that separated the Folly from the house. Instead she saw

a long, dimly lit corridor lined with doors. “Where did the grass go?” she asked, puzzled.

“It’s not important now. Persephone, listen to me. I don’t have much time. You must not, must not

go to the princess’s ball tomorrow at St. James’s. You will be in grave danger if you do.”

“Go to the ball?” Persy rubbed her forehead. Then she remembered. “Of course we have to go. It’s

Princess Victoria’s ball. This is the only chance I’ll ever have to meet her. I’d thought about running

away before it, but I can’t.”

Ally glanced over her shoulder down the hall, which now appeared to be carpeted with green grass

though the doors were still there. “Please, dearest child. You cannot—I beg you.” Then she frowned.

“What do you mean, run away?”

“To be a governess, like you. I’ve made a mess of everything, and this seems like the only way to

fix it. I promised your mother I’d keep trying to find you, but you’re back now. So I can tell her you’re

all right, and then she’ll help me find someone to work for.” Persy paused. “I suppose that means I

could leave right away. But I just can’t miss seeing the princess, and not wear my dress and

everything. It’s the last chance I’ll have to be pretty, isn’t it? Have you seen it? No, of course not.

Come back to the house with me and I’ll show it to you.” She reached out to take Ally’s hand, but

Ally stepped back.

“Persy, stop talking and listen to me! Do not go to the ball! Something very
wrong
has been

planned to happen there. I might be able to stop it if you don’t come, but if you and Pen do … It’s a

trap, child. Do you hear me?” Ally’s face was thin and white, and her hands twisted and clutched the

ends of her shawl. It was so unlike her that Persy reached out to her once more, in concern.

“I don’t know what you mean—” she started. Just then, Ally gasped.

“He’s coming! Pray he hasn’t heard—I must go. Please, Persy—tomorrow night—stay away … .”

She turned and stumbled down the stairs of the Folly, nearly falling in her haste, and flew up the long,

sunlit lawn.

“Ally, wait!” Persy cried, and tried to hurry after her. But her skirts held her imprisoned so that she

could not move. She pushed and kicked against the layers of heavy fabric that held her back—

She sat up in bed, her heart pounding, perspiration making her nightgown cling to her back. The

heavy coverlet was twisted about her legs where she had kicked it. Soundly asleep next to her, Pen

whimpered and pulled it back up, then was still once more.

Persy lay back down and stared at the ceiling, glowing in the faint dregs of light from the hearth.

She’d dreamed about Ally many times over the last weeks, but never as vividly as that. What could it

mean? Mrs. Allardyce had dreamed about Ally warning of danger … had she made up her own

dream, or had that really been Ally?

18

M
ama had decreed that they would spend a restful, quiet day today, in preparation for the evening.

Rest and quiet were, however, relative terms. The entire household was awakened early in the

morning by guns firing salutes all over the city, to ring in the birthday of England’s heiress.

It wasn’t until breakfast was nearly over that Persy emerged enough from her misery to remember

that it was her and Pen’s birthday, too. Kenney and Andrews and Mrs. Huxworthy the cook all filed

into the breakfast room to present them with dainty gold-and-pearl bracelets, the gift of the household

to them. Pen promised that they would wear them that very evening to the princess’s ball, which

nearly made the Hoaxer faint with joy. Mama gave them brooches set with diamonds, and Papa a

purse with fifty pounds each to spend as they wished.

Persy knew the household staff was disappointed that their ball would not be on their birthday night

—she had heard the Hoaxer waxing indignant about it to Andrews a few weeks ago. But Mama had

planned their ball for the following week because it would not do at all to compete with the

princess’s ball. The poor Hoaxer would probably be even more upset if she knew that one of the

daughters of the house would not be there for her own ball.

Persy still wrestled with the guilt born of that fact as she slipped upstairs to pack her running-away

bundle. Pen was engaged in reading Charles’s French exercise, and this would probably be her only

chance to be alone all day.

Packing wasn’t difficult. Three of her sturdiest, plainest dresses, plus one very sober dark silk

dress for Sundays, would suffice for now. Fortunately the laundress had just returned stacks of clean

linens, so fresh chemises and petticoats and stockings were ready. Persy wrapped everything in a

sheet purloined from one of the guest bedrooms, compressing it as well as she could and tying it with

the length of bandage she had borrowed from Charles when they sneaked into Kensington. The

memory of that escapade made her smile sadly as she squeezed the air out of her bundle and poked

and shoved it under the bed.

Later she would sneak it downstairs and hide it in the less-used reception salon. Then after the ball

tonight, she would wait until the household was asleep, slip out of the house with her bundle, and

begin walking to the Allardyces’. With any luck she’d make it there early, before too many shoppers

had converged on Oxford Street. The money Papa had given her would come in handy—

“What are you doing?”

Persy would have jumped if she hadn’t been on her hands and knees. She’d been so immersed in

her thoughts that she hadn’t heard Pen enter their room.

“Oh … uh, I—I dropped something and thought it rolled under the bed,” she stammered. “Did

Charles finish his French?”

“Well enough for now. What did you lose? Here, let me look.” Pen swept up her skirts and

prepared to drop down beside Persy.

“No! It’s not there. I already looked. It was just—just, er—nothing important.” Persy scrambled to

her feet, grabbing Pen’s arm to keep her from looking under the bed.

Pen stared at Persy’s hand, then up at her.

“I’m sorry,” Persy began, letting go of her arm. Tears came to her eyes. “Please believe me—it’s

nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” Pen snapped. “And so is the way you’ve been radiating wretchedness since last

night? Something happened at the Fothergills’, didn’t it? I saw Lord Carharrick leave looking like

he’d been beaten with a club after your dance, and Lochinvar left a few minutes later looking even

worse. And then there you were, dancing and grinning like the Spartan boy with a fox under his cloak.

What happened?”

Persy sighed. At least Pen seemed to have forgotten about the bed. “I just finally got rid of them

both. For good. That’s all.”

“Both? What did you do to Lochinvar?”

Persy edged away from the bed. “I’d rather not talk about it just yet. It still hurts too much.”

“Oh, Persy.” Pen shook her head. “Why? I’m sure we could have figured something out—”

“Just like we did for Ally? No. I failed her, Pen. It’s time I got at least one thing right. Now

Lochinvar’s free of me. He’ll be far better off.” She shrugged away from Pen’s outstretched hand and

fled the room.

She couldn’t flee the memory of her dream of Ally as easily. It niggled at her mind like a cocklebur

while she tried to concentrate on helping Charles with his maths in the drawing room that afternoon.

After her third mistake in simple addition, Charles poked his pencil at her nose. “Perse, you may

be here but your mind isn’t. What’s wrong? Are you that excited about the ball tonight? Honestly,

you’d think you were going to heaven or something, not just another ball. Girls!” He shook his head in

simulated disgust.

Persy swatted his pencil away. “Stop it, brat. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Charles opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. He regarded her so closely for a minute that Persy

felt uncomfortable. “It isn’t about Ally, is it?” he asked in an accusatory tone. “Because if it is, you’d

better tell me. I thought we were partners when it came to looking for her.”

Persy thought about denying it, but one look at his suddenly serious face stopped her. This search

meant as much to him as it did to her. With a pang, she realized that her running away would affect

him too. She couldn’t give him the brush-off now. “In a way. At least, I think so.”

“Have you heard anything new?” Charles’s voice rose with excitement.

“Hush! No. That is, I don’t think so. All right, I’ll tell you,” she said at his impatient squirm. “I had

a dream last night that Ally told us not to go to the ball tonight, because we’d be in some sort of

danger.”

She braced herself for a blast of ridicule, but it never arrived. Charles’s wide blue eyes grew even

wider.

“She came to you in a dream? Like Mrs. Allardyce? But really came and talked to you?”

“I don’t know. It was strange and silly, but somehow felt all the more real because of it.” She told

Charles what Ally had said, then continued, “But if she can do this, why hasn’t she before? She could

have come to me long ago and told me where she was, and then we could have seen about rescuing

her.”

“Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe something happened that let her do it just this once. What if it was

real? What if”—his voice rose another half octave—“what if you are in danger if you go to the ball

tonight?”

“In danger of what? And from whom? It doesn’t make any sense, Charles. Why should we be in any

danger?”

“Why did Ally’s mother dream it too? Why were there men watching our house for all those

weeks?” he challenged. “Maybe they have something to do with the danger.”

“And why did they stop just as abruptly?”

“People don’t hang about watching other people’s houses unless they’re up to no good,” Charles

persisted.

“Look. Even if those men had anything to do with this, I doubt they’ll be showing up at Princess

Victoria’s ball. Charles, don’t you see? If Ally didn’t really come to me in a dream, then there’s

nothing to worry about. And if she did, then that means she’ll be there—remember, she said some evil

deed would be done there that she would try to avert. If she’s there, then I need to go look for her and

try to help her if I can.”

“That makes no sense at all, Persy. If Ally did come, then you’d be walking right into dang—”

“Ah, there you are.” Mama marched into the room, trailed by Pen and, to Persy’s chagrin,

Lochinvar. “Tea, please, Kenney,” she called over her shoulder.

Persy rose and curtsied as they seated themselves, hoping her dismay didn’t show. What in

heaven’s name was Lochinvar doing here? Could she possibly find some excuse to leave the room?

“How’s Lord Chesterfield?” Charles asked, as he always did.

“Very well, and expecting a visit from you if you can be spared from your lessons,” Lochinvar

replied. His smile as he spoke to Charles was genuine, but Persy could see the trouble in his eyes.

Yes, she definitely had to leave the room … but drat it, why had he come?