Chapter 16 #2
“You will not, I am sure, have failed to notice its colour,” said Zacharias. He rolled down his sleeve again, conscious of Prunella’s intent dark eyes, waiting for a conclusion.
“Certainly society has not,” he continued.
“My colleagues are compelled to deal with me, however much they may dislike it. But in the circles to which you aspire, I am of no account whatsoever. A magic-making African might serve as a diversion in high society, but never more than that. Society would never consent to be influenced by such as I.”
“But you are the Sorcerer Royal,” said Prunella. Her cheeks warming unaccountably, she added, “If you wished to be married to anyone, you would never be refused on account of your colour.”
Zacharias stood for a moment gazing down at his own hands. He could not say whether he agreed. Lady Wythe would have dismissed his doubt, even as she allowed that not every family would be delighted to own such a son-in-law:
“But you should not like such illiberal connections yourself! There are a great many sensible people who will know how to value you even as you deserve. You need not shut yourself off from the world for fear of the few who might be so little-minded.”
But the world had given Zacharias little reason to believe that the sensible, as Lady Wythe termed them, outnumbered the little-minded, though he had not sought out opportunities to test the truth of her statement.
He needed no further reminder of the peculiar loneliness of his position—of the fact that, but for the intervention of fate, he might never have known the ease he now enjoyed; might never have had even the few friends he possessed.
“Perhaps not,” he said. “I have never made a trial. It is not within my power to make you respectable. I cannot even do that for myself.”
“Lady Wythe could,” said Prunella. “Anyone to whom she lent her countenance could not but be respectable.”
She clasped her hands. Zacharias had never seen her so serious.
“You know what it is to be on the fringes of everything—to see that others have what you lack, for nothing more than an accident of birth,” she said.
“I suppose my scheme sounds wild enough, and perhaps no one will marry me after all, for fear of what my colour might signify. But I must try, or spend the rest of my life a lady’s maid, working petty magics as it suits my betters—and that would not suit me at all! ”
Zacharias looked at the elegant hands wound together, the head crowned with cloudlike dark hair.
“I doubt you need have any worry of that,” he said, feeling the blood rise in his cheeks, though he spoke in the driest manner he could manage.
“Not if you will help me,” said Prunella.
She was so engrossed in what she was about to say that she did not notice Zacharias’s embarrassment.
“And if you do, as I know you could, I shall study as many tomes as you like, and what is more”—she flung back her shoulders, raising her head—“you may have an egg!”
Zacharias did not at first understand what she meant. Then he went still. “You have another?”
“I have four more eggs, besides the ones I hatched,” said Prunella. “But I should think one would be sufficient to pay for the expenses of my coming out, do not you agree?”
Zacharias could tell she was not nearly so confident as she pretended, but Prunella was not in fact wrong. He could think of several thaumaturges who would pay a great deal more than she could spend in a year for a familiar’s egg, and count it a bargain.
“How did you acquire seven familiars’ eggs?” he demanded.
“Why, I found them while I was rummaging in the attic.”
“Pray be serious,” said Zacharias, frowning. “It is a matter of greater consequence than you know.”
“Never mind where they are from, for there are no more to be got from that quarter,” said Prunella firmly. “All you need know is they are mine, to do what I will with them. What do you say to my offer?”
Zacharias hesitated, hardly knowing what to think, or what to do. “I am not sure it is not my duty to take them from you, if only for safeguarding.”
“As if you would!” said Prunella. She looked at him, and her brow clouded. Doubt, and a touch of fear, entered her eyes.
For a moment Zacharias saw how fully sensible Prunella was of the weakness of her position.
Even with three familiars, an untrained female, alone in the world, could not resist the Sorcerer Royal if he chose to compel her compliance.
But defiance lit her eyes: she squared her shoulders and tossed her head, as though she would fling off any uncertainty.
“Even if you did, the eggs would be no good to you,” she said. “They are bound in an ensorcellment, a vastly strong one, and they will never be anything more than four dead stones unless the spell is lifted. I have the secret of unlocking the charm, but no one else knows it.”
Zacharias said drily, “I can quite see why you do not feel the need for education, since you possess such a number of magical secrets!”
Prunella did not smile. Her face was composed, her mouth a determined line, but she could not altogether conceal her uncertainty. Zacharias recalled the look of alarm that had passed fleetingly through her eyes.
“Come,” he said gently, “are not we friends? I do not think we are so far apart. You will wish to learn as much as you need to, to be able to govern your familiars, and I understand that you require some assurance regarding your future. I do not say you have convinced me that a London Season is the best means of achieving it—”
“You have not proposed any alternative!” exclaimed Prunella.
“But,” continued Zacharias, “I can hardly proclaim myself an expert in this regard. Lady Wythe will know better. Shall we ask her if she will do as you desire, and see how she replies?”
Prunella blinked, taken aback. Then she rallied, saying with a businesslike air:
“Do you mean to say you accept my offer of an egg?”
“If you agree to training,” said Zacharias. “And I should very much like to see all the remaining eggs, if you have no objection.”
“Perhaps you may,” said Prunella. “Since we are friends.”
· · ·
BEFORE anything could be asked of Lady Wythe, Prunella must first be accounted for to her, and Zacharias found this as difficult as he had feared.
In Lady Wythe’s sitting room the next day, he attempted to explain that the girl he had produced was not his mistress, without ever lapsing into such indecorousness as to say the word.
“I am conscious of how this must appear,” he said. “But I assure you, I should never seek to—should never involve you in any sort of— I hope you believe I should never require you to countenance anything approaching impropriety.”
“Zacharias,” said Lady Wythe, “I am not a schoolgirl, that you should stammer so. I was married thirty years, and have hardly led a sheltered life. I beg you will tell me your trouble.”
“You are very good, ma’am,” said Zacharias, but he still looked worried. “I scarcely know where to begin.”
Though she had sworn she would let Zacharias manage the affair, Prunella had been growing rather restless, and at this she could no longer contain herself. She interjected:
“Mr. Wythe means, ma’am, that I am not a courtesan, but what is even worse—a witch!”
This elicited a forbidding look from Zacharias.
“Say, rather, a thaumaturgess,” he said.
“Or perhaps we might call you a magicienne. Witches practise a type of petty or folk magic, very different from our thaumaturgy, and your village witch is just as likely to be a man as a woman. It is a loose usage to describe every female who practises magic as a witch, much to be decried.”
“Mr. Wythe has been so good as to offer to teach me, ma’am,” said Prunella, ignoring him. “I used to be at a school for gentlewitches, where of course they taught no thaumaturgy, and it seems it is a very shocking thing to be magical and taught nothing but how to restrain it.”
Lady Wythe looked bewildered.
“Age must be scattering my wits,” she said, looking to Zacharias.
“I had thought the teaching of restraint was precisely what must be done with women who are afflicted by magic. I do not, you know, refer to the household magics the servants do—there is no harm in enchanting a pot to prevent its boiling over, or a broom to sweep a floor, but is not unnatural philosophy a different matter altogether? I had always understood it was forbidden to our sex.”
“So it is,” said Zacharias. “But if you had seen what I witnessed at that school, ma’am, you would agree that far more harm is done in preventing the natural exertion by women of their abilities than could ever be done by training them up as thaumaturgesses.
I believe a thorough reform is required. ”
He inclined his head towards Prunella. “Miss Gentleman has kindly acceded to my testing the principle upon her. If all goes as we hope, we shall have in Miss Gentleman an example of success to present to the Society when I propose my reform. But my scheme requires your participation, ma’am.
Miss Gentleman knows no one in London. I should be grateful if you would take her in.
I would provide for her expenses, and her stay need not be of long duration. ”
Lady Wythe looked from Zacharias to Prunella. Such quixoticism from Zacharias was not wholly unexpected to Lady Wythe—she was accustomed to his fits and starts—but it was clear she was concerned about the young stranger. She leant over to Prunella and took her hand, to Prunella’s alarm.
“I hope you will forgive me, Miss Gentleman, but do you truly grasp the scale of the undertaking to which you have agreed?” she said. “Magic is a perilous practise, you know—strenuous for men, and it must exact an even greater toll upon a woman’s frame.”
“Miss Gentleman is—” began Zacharias, but Lady Wythe forestalled him.
“My question was addressed to the young lady,” she said firmly. “You need not be afraid to tell the truth, my dear. Simply say what your wishes are regarding yourself, and I shall see that they are respected.”