Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 02 (5 page)

           
"I
dislike chickens," she announced. "They are stupid birds, and they
have nothing whatever to do with who one knows, which is what we were
discussing."

           
"Yes,
and I quite agree that it is pleasant to meet new people," Mrs. Lowe said,
though her tone was at odds with her words. She managed a stiff smile at Miss
Tarnower,
then
turned to Mr. Fulton with a warmer
expression. "It is, for instance, very pleasant to make your acquaintance
at last, Mr. Fulton. We have heard so much about you."

           
"I,
too, have heard much about you, Miss Merrill," Mr. Fulton said, and
smiled. "I must say, it did not do you justice."

           
Beside
Mrs. Hardcastle, Mairelon frowned suddenly. Mrs. Lowe nudged Kim and gave her a
pointed look. Annoyed, Kim raised her teacup and sipped again.
Old fusspot.
It would serve her right if I
did
disgrace her in public.
Then she blinked and began to grin.
And I bet
it'll send
Fulton
to
the rightabout in a hurry, too.

           
Mairelon
was watching her, and his frown deepened. Before he could queer her pitch, she
looked at Mr. Fulton and said very deliberately, "Don't go pitching me no
gammon. You ain't heard near enough, acos I'll lay you a monkey the gentry-mort
ain't told you I was on the sharping lay afore Mairelon took a fancy to adopt
me."

           
Mrs.
Lowe's breath hissed faintly between her teeth in anger; Mrs. Hardcastle looked
shocked, and the two younger ladies, merely puzzled. Mr. Fulton seemed taken
aback, but he rallied enough to say, "No, I don't believe she did."

           
"Well,
I ain't
no
mace cove, and I don't hold with bubbling a
flash cull, not when it comes to getting priest-linked, anyways."

           
"Kim!"
Mrs. Lowe had recovered from her surprise-induced paralysis; it was a tribute
to her good breeding that she kept her voice low despite her anger and chagrin.
"Hold your tongue, at once."

           
Kim set
her teacup on the table. Looking up, she met Mr. Fulton's eyes. "And I'll
tell you straight, this ain't been my lay, right from the beginning," she
continued, as if Mrs. Lowe had never interrupted. "I
ain't
never been no
Madam Ran. So I ain't going to get in a pucker if you
was
to shab off."

           
"I .
. . see," Mr. Fulton said in a dazed voice.

           
"Well,
I do not," Letitia Tarnower said crossly.

           
"I
should hope not!" Mrs. Hardcastle groped in her reticule and produced a
bottle of smelling salts, which she at once made use of. "I have never
heard anything so vulgar in my life! Not that I understood the half of it
myself."

           
"Really?"
Miss Matthews's wide eyes were fixed on
Kim. "Was it so very bad?"

           
"It
was certainly intended to be," Mairelon said. His eyes, full of amusement,
met Kim's, and she felt lightheaded with relief. As long as he hadn't taken her
antics in bad part, she didn't give a farthing for Mrs. Lowe.

           
Unexpectedly,
Henry Fulton laughed. "Miss Merrill, I think we are both correct. I had
not heard nearly enough about you, and what I did hear
certainly
did not
do you justice."

           
Kim
blinked and said cautiously, "Well, that ain't my lookout."

           
"Kim!"
Mrs. Lowe said. "Be
still
!"

           
"It
is much too late for that," Mrs. Hardcastle said acidly. "Really,
Agatha, you might have told me."

           
"Told
you what?" Mairelon said. "That my ward was once a street thief? I
didn't think it was a secret."

           
"A street thief?"
Letitia wrinkled her nose and
looked at Kim with disfavor.
"How horrid."

           
"I
think it is the most romantic story I have ever heard," Miss Matthews said
with conviction.

           
Mr.
Fulton gave her an approving look, which caused Miss Matthews to blush in
confusion.

           
Kim shook
her head. Abandoning cant language, she said soberly, "It may sound
romantic, but living on the street isn't very pleasant. Horrid describes it
much better."

           
"I
do not believe that was what Miss Tarnower was referring to," Mrs.
Hardcastle said. She seemed even more upset by Kim's reversion to
standard
English than she had been by the string of thieves'
cant.

           
Mrs. Lowe
rose to her feet. "We must be going," she said stiffly.
"At once."

           
"But
you have only just arrived," Letitia objected. "And I
particularly
wished to ask Mr. Merrill something, because he has been on the
Continent."

           
Kim had
not thought it possible for Mrs. Lowe to get any stiffer, but she did.
"Another time, perhaps."

           
"Nonsense,
Aunt," Mairelon said, leaning back in his chair. "We can spare
another few minutes to gratify the young lady's curiosity."

           
"Richard
. . ."

           
"What
was it you wanted to ask, Miss Tarnower?" Mairelon asked.

           
"Why,
only if you had ever heard of a Prince Alexei Nicholaiovitch Durmontov,"
Letitia said.

           
"Durmontov?"
Mairelon said in a thoughtful tone.
"No, I can't say that I met anyone of that name while I was in
France
,
though there were a number of respectable Russians there from time to time. Of
course, most of the people I dealt with there were not respectable at
all."

           
"That
appears to continue true." Mrs. Hardcastle sniffed and looked pointedly in
Kim's direction.

           
"Well,
it's only to be expected," Mairelon said consolingly. "London Society
isn't what it once was."

           
Both Mr.
Fulton and Miss Matthews experienced sudden fits of coughing. Kim found herself
entirely in sympathy with them; she was having trouble choking back her own
laughter at Mairelon's deliberate outrageousness.

           
Mrs.
Hardcastle, however, was neither amused nor misled. "I was speaking, sir,
of your so-called ward."

           
Mrs. Lowe
bristled and began to say something, but Mairelon held up a restraining hand.
"Were you, indeed?" he said in a deceptively gentle tone to Mrs.
Hardcastle. "Then you will certainly not wish to attend her come-out ball.
I must remember not to send you a card."

           
Kim's
stomach did a sudden flip-flop.
Come-out ball? He's got windmills in his
head. Doesn't he?

           
"Richard!"
Mrs. Lowe gasped.

           
"Ah,
yes, you wanted to be going," Mairelon said, ignoring the reddening Mrs.
Hardcastle. "I find that for once I am in agreement with you, Aunt."
He rose and nodded to Mr. Fulton. "Give my regards to your brother. If
you'll send me his direction, I shall stop in to see him.
Your
servant, ladies."
He made an elegant bow that managed to include
Miss Matthews and Miss Tarnower while excluding Mrs. Hardcastle, and ushered
Kim and his thunderstruck aunt from the room.

           
They were
hardly out of Mrs. Hardcastle's house before Mrs. Lowe turned to Mairelon.
"Richard, I fear that your unfortunate impulses have landed you in difficulties
once again."

           
Mairelon
raised an eyebrow. "I do hope that you are not referring to my ward. I
thought I was finished with that subject for today."

           
"Not
at all," Mrs. Lowe said with a look at Kim that spoke volumes, none of
them pleasant. "But
that
I intend to discuss with you privately, at
a later time." She climbed into the carriage and waited for Kim and
Mairelon to find
their own
seats. Then, as the
carriage began to move, she said, "No, I was referring to your invention
of a come-out ball for Kim. While I fully understand your desire to give Mrs.
Hardcastle a set-down, I must tell you that it will certainly have precisely
the opposite effect, once she realizes that no such party is being
planned."

           
"I'm
sure she feels just as you do," Mairelon murmured. "But think of her
chagrin when she discovers that it will, in fact, be held."

           
"Richard,
your flights of fancy take you too far," Mrs. Lowe said severely.
"You can't possibly introduce a girl of dubious antecedents into Polite
Society." She gave Kim another look.
"Particularly
a girl whose behavior cannot be depended upon."

           
"That's
three," Mairelon said with apparent interest.

           
"Three what?"
Mrs. Lowe asked, clearly at a loss.

           
"Three mistakes in one speech.
First, Kim's, er,
antecedents aren't dubious, they're completely unknown. That is, if you're
referring to her parents. Second, her behavior is entirely dependable and shows
a great deal of good sense."

           
"If
you call using vulgar cant phrases in Mrs. Hardcastle's drawing room
showing
good sense
--"

           
"And
third," Mairelon went on implacably, "I am quite capable of
introducing my ward to Polite Society--though judging by this afternoon, I'd
say the adjective is extremely ill-chosen."

           
Kim found
her voice at last. "Mairelon--"

           
"Kim,
I have told you a dozen times: Refer to your guardian as Mr. Merrill, if you
please," Mrs. Lowe snapped.

           
"I
don't please," Kim said. "And I'm no good at wrapping it up in clean
linen, so there's no use my trying. Mairelon--"

           
"You
are being deliberately impudent and unmannerly," Mrs. Lowe said crossly.
"I don't know which of you is worse."

           
"Yes,
it's why Kim and I deal so well together," Mairelon said.

           
Before
Mrs. Lowe could respond to this provoking remark, the carriage came to a halt
and the footman sprang to open the door, putting a stop to further
conversation. As they descended, a ragged boy of nine or ten materialized next
to the front stoop, and stood staring up at Mairelon. Automatically, Kim moved
her reticule to her far hand and backed off a step.

           
The boy
ignored her. "You that Merrill cove?" he demanded of Mairelon.
"The frogmaker?"

           
"I'm
a magician, and my name is Merrill."

           
"Got
something for you to give to a chap named Kim," the boy said. "A bob
cull up by Threadneedle told me you'd give me a bender for delivering it."

           
Mairelon
studied the boy for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a
coin. "There's your sixpence. What have you got?"

           
"Here
you go, governor." The boy dropped something into Mairelon's outstretched
palm, snatched the sixpence from his other hand, and ran off down the street.

           
"Fascinating,"
Mairelon murmured, looking after him. "Now, who do we know who would use
such
an
. . . unusual method of communication? And
what does it mean?"

           
Kim
leaned over to see what Mairelon was holding. It was a cheap wooden button,
scratched deeply from one side to the other. "It's from Tom Correy,"
she said. "He's got a secondhand shop on
Petticoat
Lane
, off Thread needle. This is how he always
used to let me know he wanted to see me. How did he know to send it to you? I
never told anyone where I was going."

           
"I
did," Mairelon said, handing her the button.
"In a
general sort of way.
I wonder what he
wants?
Somehow, I doubt that the timing is coincidental."

           
"Tom
didn't have
nothing
to do with that filching cove last
night!"

           
"Kim!"
Mrs. Lowe said. "Mind your language."

           
" '
Anything
to do with,'
" Mairelon
said calmly. "And I
didn't claim he had. If he's heard something about the business, though, that
might account for his summons." He frowned suddenly. "Or our
mysterious burglar may be hoping to hire you to complete his work."

           
"As if I would!"

           
"Yes,
well, he doesn't know that, does he?"

           
"
Need
we discuss this in the street?" Mrs. Lowe said with a significant look in
the direction of the interested footmen.

           
"A
reasonable enough point," Mairelon said, and they proceeded into the
house.

           
Inside,
Mrs. Lowe looked at Mairelon and said, "I wish to speak further with you
about all this, Richard. I will expect you in the drawing room.
Immediately."
Without waiting for an answer, she swept
up the stairs, leaving Mairelon and Kim standing just inside the door.

           
"I
have a few questions, too," Kim said.

           
"Aunt
Agatha got in before you, I'm afraid," Mairelon said. "You'll have to
wait.
Unless you want to join us?"

           
"No,"
Kim said hastily. "I'll talk to you after."

           
"In the library.
You can study your orisons and
invocations while you wait," Mairelon said, and disappeared down the back
hall before Kim could say anything more.

           
Fuming,
Kim went up to the library and flopped into a chair.
Introduceme to Polite
Society! He's dicked in the nob. And anyway, the last thing I want is to spend
more time having tea with widgeons like that Tarnower gentry-mort.
She
glared at the book of invocations, but didn't bother picking it up. Even if she
could calm down enough to puzzle out the letters, nothing she read while she
was in this state would stick.
And what in thunder does Tom Correy want? He
can't have a job for me; if he knows about Mairelon, he knows I don't need to
go on the sharping lay any more. And how am I going to sneak down to
Petticoat
Lane
in skirts?

           
Tom
wouldn't have sent for her if it wasn't urgent, but he didn't know that Kim was
a girl. She'd dressed and acted as a boy for all her years on the
London
streets, and only Mother Tibb had known the truth. The back alleys of
London
were dangerous places at the best of
times,
and doubly
dangerous for girls. Petticoat Lane wasn't quite as bad as the rookeries of St.
Giles, or the stews around Vauxhall and Covent Gardens, but it was still far
from safe.

           
If I
go well after dark, in boy's clothes, I might still be able to pass.
But
she had no idea what had become of her old garments, and even if she had, they
wouldn't fit her now. Mrs. Lowe would never countenance a shopping expedition
for an appropriate jacket and breeches, let alone Kim's actually wearing them
anywhere. Mairelon . . . Mairelon wouldn't mind the boy's clothes, but Kim felt
oddly reluctant to ask him for help in this. She owed Tom a lot, from the bad
times before she'd met Mairelon, and the debt was one she had to pay herself.

           
When
Mairelon arrived fifteen minutes later, Kim was no nearer a solution to her
problem. She looked up as he came in, and with a particularly cheerful grin he
said, "Well, that's settled, more or less. Now, what was it you wanted to
ask?"

           
All
thoughts of Tom Correy fled from Kim's mind at once. "Settled?" she
croaked. "What's settled?"

           
"The
business of presenting you to Society," Mairelon said. "Aunt Agatha
doesn't like it, of course, but it's clear enough that she'll agree to sponsor
you eventually."

           
"Eventually?"
Kim grasped at the slim hope.

           
Mairelon's
grin widened even more. "Right now, she's too furious with me to agree to
anything, but she'll come around as soon as I propose letting Renee D'Auber
sponsor you instead. She's far too conventional to let my ward be presented by
someone who's not a member of the family."

           
"You
enjoy
annoying her," Kim said in surprise.

           
"Nonsense.
It's much too easy--everything annoys Aunt
Agatha. Now, you had some questions, I think?"

           
"Not exactly.
It's just that you forgot to ask
me."

           
Mairelon
blinked,
then
looked a little sheepish. "I'm
sorry about springing it on you, but I wanted it to be clear to Aunt Agatha
that you hadn't been scheming for a come-out all along. It worked, too."

           
"That's
not what I meant," Kim said. "That just explains why you didn't
tell
me what you were planning. I'm talking about
asking
me whether I wanted
to be launched into Society."

           
"I
didn't think I had to," Mairelon said. "It's obvious that you haven't
been happy since we got back to
London
.
I thought you wanted a change."

           
So he
did
notice
, Kim thought, but the knowledge only added to her growing
annoyance with him. "Well, I haven't been, and I did want a change, but
that's not the point. A year ago, I wanted to get off the streets, but I didn't
want it badly enough to go to the stews."

           
"I
should hope not," Mairelon said, and for an instant he sounded exactly
like his aunt. Then he gave her a worried look, and the resemblance vanished.
"It's not just a matter of presenting you, you know. I'm hoping that if we
circulate a bit during the Season, we'll run across our mysterious toff
burglar."

           
"That's
not the point
," Kim repeated. "A year ago, you
asked
me
if I wanted to be your ward, when it was a lot plainer that I'd jump at the
chance. But you didn't ask me about coming out in Society, and you didn't ask
me about 'circulating during the Season.' You're as bad as Mrs. Lowe."

           
"What?"
Mairelon looked startled, and for the first time, Kim felt as if she might have
gotten through to him.

           
"Mrs.
Lowe didn't ask me whether I came to
London
to catch a
husband,
she just decided that's what I
wanted. Or that it would be best for me. And you didn't ask about this. You
both act like I'm some fog-headed mort who ain't got sense enough to make up
her own
mind about anything."

           
"I'm
sorry."

           
"
I'm
sorry
don't
fix it."

           
"What
would? Do you want me to tell Aunt Agatha you refuse to be presented?"

           
"Yes,"
Kim said. "That's exactly what I want."

           
Mairelon
looked startled. "Why? It's not because of that Hardcastle woman's remarks
this afternoon, or the Tarnower girl's attitude, is it? Their opinions really
don't matter in the slightest."

           
"Not
to you. But I ain't been out with your poker-backed aunt every day for a week
without noticing that the opinions of bubble-brains like those two matter a lot
to some people.
Your aunt, for one."

           
Mairelon
frowned. "And do they matter to you? Is that why you're so . . .
overset?"

           
"No."
Kim flung her hands up in exasperation. "Not the way you mean, not now.
But if I was to get launched into Society, their opinions would
have
to
matter, wouldn't they? Because that's what Society is, mostly."

           
"What
an unfortunately truthful observation," Mairelon said. "I take your
point. I shouldn't have sprung this on you in front of them."

           
"You
shouldn't
of
sprung it on me at all! You ought to
of
asked me about it first, and not just because you thought
I'd give you a trimming if you didn't." Kim stopped and took a deep
breath. Then she said quietly, "It's
my
life. And I ain't--I'm not
a noodle."