Kat, Incorrigible (7 page)

“She doesn’t look like Olivia, I must say,” said a woman.

There was a hesitant male cough that sounded like disagreement. “She came through Olivia’s mirror. I should call that indisputable evidence.”

The woman let out an irritated huff of air that blew directly against my prickling, uncomfortable skin. “What a very odd outfit she is wearing. Do you think she often wanders around in public in her nightgown? There always were some signs of instability in Olivia’s family, you know. That might account for her ridiculous hairstyle as well.”

There are some things that cannot be tolerated, even inside a magic mirror. I forced my eyes open with a scowl.

As my vision cleared, I saw two faces peering down at me—a lady and a gentleman, kneeling on either side of me—both illuminated by a deep, golden glow that didn’t feel like candlelight. As they examined me, both of their faces pursed into exactly the same expression Stepmama always wore when she was inspecting a particularly inadequate sample of my embroidery.

I directed my scowl at the lady and spoke clearly, even though every word hurt my head.

“I was not intending to go out in public,” I said, with all the hauteur Angeline herself could have summoned. “I am wearing my nightgown because I am in my own house, and so are you. This is my mother’s magic mirror we’re all inside, so you might care to show a little more respect.”

“Well!” The lady drew back from me, scowling. She was very elegantly dressed, with a dark green gown every bit as low-cut as the pictures in the
Mirror of Fashion
, and bright jewels sparkling in her black hair. And she was every bit as good as Stepmama at looking down her nose at me.

I pushed myself up to my feet, setting my teeth so I couldn’t let out any humiliating whimpers of pain. Everything inside me felt as if it had been scalded with fire. When my head finally stopped reeling, I turned
pointedly away from the others to look around me. I was determined not to show any signs of surprise or awe, but it was more difficult than I’d expected.

I’d never in my life seen so huge a room, nor one so strange and empty. There were no candles to account for the bright light that flooded through the hall. The floor and walls were smooth and gold, like the outer casing of the mirror had been, and the rounded ceiling above us arched almost as high as the sky itself. I couldn’t see any doors or windows, no matter how hard I looked.

“Welcome to the Golden Hall, my dear,” the gentleman said. “As Olivia Amberson’s daughter, you are most heartily—”

“Olivia Stephenson’s daughter,” I corrected him, and turned back to face them both. “She was only Olivia Amberson until she married Papa.”

The lady let out a disdainful crack of laughter and turned away.

“Mm. Yes. Well, the less said about that, the better,” said the gentleman. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and began to polish his spectacles with quick, exact movements. The lenses glittered distractingly in the golden light. Meanwhile, he peered at me from pale, washed-out blue eyes. His thin brown hair was specked with gray, and he was beginning to go bald; I thought he must be even older than Papa. “What’s done is done,” he said, “and we cannot change the past now, even if we might wish to.”

I lifted my chin. My head still hurt, but outrage helped me ignore the pain. “Why exactly would you wish to change that?” I asked. “Are you by any chance insulting my papa?”

“Humph.” His eyes narrowed; I thought I saw the corners of his lips twitch, but it happened so quickly, I couldn’t be sure. “No need to take offense, my dear—ah—what is your name?”

“Kat,” I said, and then thought better of it. “Katherine Ann Stephenson,” I said, as haughtily as I could.

“Her youngest daughter, then.”

“Yes.” I frowned at him, but he looked away, folding his pocket handkerchief.

“Am I to understand, Katherine, that you believe we are all inside your mother’s, er, magic mirror at this very moment?”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course we are. I heard your voices coming from the mirror. That’s why I opened it—I could tell someone was trapped inside. I was going to help you escape.”

The lady rolled her eyes in a very unladylike fashion, but the gentleman smiled.

“A kind instinct, my dear. But, fortunately for all of us, it is entirely unnecessary. Neither of us was trapped here any more than you are now.”

I glanced around me at the vast, empty hall. If there was a way back to my family’s sewing room, I couldn’t see it.

The gentleman followed my gaze and said, “No, the way
out is not marked any more than the entryway was. But you may take comfort in the fact that anyone who could not find their way safely back out would never have found their way inside in the first place.”

“I’m not afraid,” I said. But I wasn’t sure I was relieved by his words either. I hadn’t found my way into the mirror; I’d been swept inside and knocked flat out of my wits as it happened. I decided it was safest not to admit that, though.

If there was one thing that growing up with two older sisters had taught me, it was that the best defense in any dangerous situation is a good, vigorous attack. So I narrowed my eyes at the gentleman and said, “If neither of you is trapped here after all, then what exactly are you doing in my mother’s mirror?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said the lady. “Aloysius, will you please do something?”

“Why, there is only one thing we can do in these circumstances,” the gentleman said. “I believe it is time for us to welcome a new member.”

Her eyes flared wide in shock. “You must be jesting. After what her mother did?”

I blinked.
What?
But before I could ask any questions, the gentleman replied.

“Miss Katherine is not her mother. You know we always planned that when the time came for Olivia’s child to take her place—”

“I do not recall ever joining into any such unlikely
plans,” the lady said. “What I do remember is that Olivia Amberson’s famous curiosity was exactly what started all her mischief in the first place. And thus far, her daughter seems to take after her exactly in that regard.” She swept me with a scathing glance and then turned back to the gentleman, dismissing me. “Olivia was the worst thing that ever happened to our Order, even before she went quite mad. You can hardly—”

I gasped. “Mama was not mad!”

“No, of course she was not,” the gentleman said. “Really, Lydia, such extreme language …”

“Not mad?” She arched her narrow eyebrows. “Whatever else could possibly have caused her to behave in such an outrageous manner? If her daughter is even half so mischievous and irresponsible—”

“Stop insulting my mother!” I shouted.

Her eyes flared open. “Good Lord, what vehemence! Whoever’s attempted to teach you manners—”

“Ladies!” The gentleman’s cough this time sounded like a crack of thunder. “Disputes about the past may wait until a more appropriate moment. In the meantime, only one third of our introductions have been made. Katherine—Miss Katherine Stephenson, that is—I hope you will allow me to present you to Lady Fotherington, who joined our Order in the same year your own mother did.”

“Charmed,” Lady Fotherington snarled.

I only glared at her. I did not curtsy. Elissa might claim
that manners always mattered, but having to listen to people be rude about Mama even inside her own magic mirror was beyond what could be borne.

“I,” the gentleman said, “am Mr. Gregson. I was your mother’s tutor.”

“No, you weren’t,” I said. “Mama didn’t have a tutor. Her magic books say—”

I stopped myself with a gulp as my mind caught up with me. Just because these people happened to be inside Mama’s magic mirror didn’t mean they were trustworthy. For all I knew, they might not have dared even to come in until she was safely gone. So I started again, backing up slightly so that I could keep an eye on both of them. “I mean—”

“Her magic books,” Lady Fotherington repeated. Her lips curved into the most unpleasant smile I had ever seen. “Good heavens, Aloysius. Your would-be protégée is already following exactly in her mother’s footsteps. Are you still so certain you wish to induct her into our Order?”

“You’ve found Olivia’s books of spells?” Mr. Gregson frowned. “Miss Katherine, I must know. Have you actually been studying your mother’s magic books?”

Studying them? Well … I’d read them, anyway. Or at least, I’d skimmed the first half of the first book, and Angeline had read the rest. So, “Of course I have,” I said, and met his gaze square-on. “I am Mama’s daughter. Why shouldn’t I?”

“You will have to stop. Yes. Immediately.” Mr. Gregson’s wispy eyebrows drew together into a scowl of concentration. “That was very, very foolish of you. But if you truly repent your actions and promise never, ever to do so again—”

I could feel my cheeks heating up as they both studied me, Mr. Gregson with worry and Lady Fotherington with contempt. “I don’t see why I should,” I said. “You two are doing magic, aren’t you? You couldn’t even be here otherwise. So why shouldn’t I?”

“We,” said Lady Fotherington, “would rather die than carry out disgusting witch magic of the kind your mother practiced. And so would anyone of quality.”

I stared at her. “What other kind of magic is there?”

“None, obviously, that you are fit to learn.” She stalked pointedly away from both of us, her slim back vibrating with outrage.

“Lydia …” Mr. Gregson shook his head and sighed. “We should have found you earlier,” he said to me. “I had hoped—that is to say, I had expected … no. It is too late for recriminations. But what you must understand immediately is this: Witchcraft is not the only kind of true magic. The second type, which has never been made public, is far more rare and remarkable.” He adjusted his spectacles and fixed me with a look so intent it made me step back. “The power of a Guardian can be inherited by only one child in each generation of a family. Your mother was born a natural Guardian, one
of the most powerful magic-workers in the nation—and you, my dear young lady, by coming here tonight, have proven yourself to be her heir.”

My head was whirling. Heirs … magic Guardians … I fastened on what I knew he had gotten wrong. “But Mama was a witch! Everyone knows that.”

“Her family, unfortunately, had both bloodlines running through it. She was a Guardian by birth and by talent, and she did great work for her country as a member of our Order—but yes, she did, tragically, also inherit a talent for witchcraft. It was that inheritance that ruined her in the end.”

“She certainly made no secret of it, once her betrayal was finally exposed,” Lady Fotherington said. She didn’t bother to turn back to us as she spoke, but I could hear the scowl in her voice anyway. “Flaunting her spells until even the most obtuse of her neighbors must have noticed—for all of our protection, she should have been pacified for good, and you know it!”

“What do you mean, ‘pacified’?” I said.

Mr. Gregson waved away the question impatiently. “Olivia was no menace to any of us. No matter what mistaken choices she may have made, she was still a Guardian and our own former colleague, even after she was exiled from our Order.”

Colleague
. That was what Mama had meant, in her diary, when she’d spoken of keeping her witchcraft a secret from her colleagues. But it hadn’t worked. And Lady
Fotherington had wanted her “pacified” … for exactly the same witchcraft that she’d passed on to Angeline.

My hands curled into fists at my side.

“All of that is ancient history,” said Mr. Gregson. “It can do nothing for us at this point but rake up painful memories. The only point of interest now is that Miss Katherine cannot be blamed for breaking rules she did not even know existed. As she was not yet a member of our Order when she committed her acts of witchcraft, she cannot be banished from the Order for doing so. I am sure she will never be so foolish as to do so again, now that she knows better.”

“Mm,” I said. My nails bit into the palms of my hands.

“In the meantime, though, she may have inadvertently put herself into some danger, and I must look into … hmm … Yes.” His voice strengthened with decision. “Katherine, you will have to bring Olivia’s books to us for safekeeping. There is no other choice.”

“No other choice but to give you my mother’s magic books,” I repeated. Elissa would have been proud of me. I didn’t hit anybody, scream, or run, and I even managed to keep my voice as cool as if we were discussing the weather at one of Stepmama’s endless tea parties. “And why is that, exactly?”

“If someone sensed your workings, if they felt that particular combination—no, there isn’t enough time to explain the whole matter now,” Mr. Gregson said. “I must hurry to our library to begin my research. If I stay there
until dawn …” His words dropped to a worried mutter underneath his breath as he turned away. “Yes, yes, we may still be able to avoid …”

He might just have walked away and left me then, except that Lady Fotherington spoke. “You truly have forgotten Olivia, haven’t you, Aloysius?” She swung around to face us. “Do you really imagine that this …” Her gaze raked up and down my nightgown and short hair, and I had to resist the impulse to smooth down the tufts I knew were sticking up. Her lips twisted. “This young
lady
is going to prove so biddable as to fetch you her mother’s most intimate belongings simply on your say-so?”