Chapter 20
SCARROW,” SAID DAMERELL.
“No, no, he would never do,” cried Lady Wythe.
Their heads were bent over a piece of paper, but Lady Wythe started when she saw Zacharias. A blush overspread her countenance, and her look of lively interest changed to reserve.
“Why, what possible objection can there be?” said Damerell. “He has a substantial establishment, and he is far less stupid than some of the others.” He only looked up when Lady Wythe failed to respond.
Damerell had traded his usual quizzing-glass for a pair of round spectacles, which did little for his manly beauty, magnifying his eyes to an alarming degree. “Halloa, Zacharias, are you here? We are considering Miss Gentleman’s prospects after our fortnight’s work.”
“It is very improper to gossip so about our acquaintance,” said Lady Wythe, attempting to look severe. “I do not know how you inveigled me into the exercise, Damerell.”
“What are acquaintance for, if not to supply the pleasures of gossip?” said Damerell.
“Besides, you know, ma’am, it is only to help Miss Gentleman, for if she is to bring off a good marriage she must direct her energies along the channels most likely to produce a satisfactory result.
You would not wish her to entertain any unsuitable offers. ”
“That I should not like,” said Lady Wythe decidedly. “What with her looks, and these unfortunate rumours of her wealth, she attracts a great deal of attention she would be better without.”
“London’s bachelors should rejoice that Lady Wythe has no daughters to guard,” said Damerell to Zacharias, in a confidential aside.
“I have never known so strict a judge of character. We have dismissed Oliver for his want of conduct, Potier for his want of feeling, and Sargent for his want of conversation. I declare, ma’am, if you had your way, I believe no one would marry at all. ”
Zacharias was about to tell Damerell what he thought of him when Prunella burst into the room. There were violet circles under her eyes, as though she had slept poorly, but she exclaimed, with even more than her usual energy:
“Zacharias, what can have kept you? I have been practising my spells all night and morning, though I hope you know a killing spell or two, for none of mine are murderous. Mr. Midsomer means to do something very wicked, I am sure of it, and those tedious thaumaturges are all in it together, and they must be stopped!”
Zacharias was taken aback, though not so much that he did not regret Prunella’s freedom in using his Christian name.
They had fallen into the habit of addressing each other so, and its being an unusual circumstance only struck him now that they were in the company of others.
Lady Wythe and Damerell both looked unconscious, but he could trust that neither of them had failed to mark the liberty.
“Did you say you saw Midsomer?” said Damerell.
“Did you say you were practising?” said Zacharias.
Prunella poured out her tale of the Midsomers’ gathering the day before, only omitting to mention the sibyl’s prophecy regarding herself.
“And Mrs. Midsomer is Mr. Midsomer’s familiar, and not his wife at all!
” she concluded. “At the end of his speech Mr. Midsomer went about shaking every gentleman’s hand and thanking him, and it seems they are all planning to vote at this Society meeting for the Hallett to be carried out.
Fortunately Mr. Midsomer took no notice of the females, and Sophia and I evaded Mrs. Midsomer for the rest of the evening.
I did not wish her to remember me, and Sophia, I know, thought her a horrid bore. ”
That Midsomer had a familiar was, of course, no revelation to Zacharias, and it explained a great deal that she should have been hidden in plain sight as his wife.
It was sensible of Midsomer to reveal his familiar to his followers now, for it made it obvious who should replace Zacharias.
There was no earthly reason why he should feel blindsided by how far Midsomer’s plans had advanced—he ought to have foreseen this after his visit to the Fairy Court.
“I doubt Midsomer would have been overly concerned even if he had seen you,” Zacharias said in a measured tone that he hoped disguised his internal turmoil. “He has not concealed his desire to oust me from my office. I have known for some time what he has planned.”
Lady Wythe was not troubling to conceal her internal turmoil at all.
“Zacharias,” she said, her voice unsteady, “do you mean to say you have known for some time that Geoffrey Midsomer intended to invoke the Hallett against you? And you told no one?”
Zacharias said warily, “Midsomer indicated he had thoughts of reinstating the procedure. It seemed so outlandish—at the very least, so disproportionate a response—that I did not credit it. That was foolish of me, of course.”
“But what is the Hallett?” cried Prunella.
“It is an obscure procedure, and has not been repeated since its namesake was done away with,” said Damerell.
“Traditionally, of course, the Sorcerer Royal was replaced when he was murdered by his successor. That is a piece of savagery we no longer practise, I am pleased to say; instead, the Fellows of the Society vote to elect a new candidate. Unfortunately, the staff of the Sorcerer Royal is no democrat. There is no guarantee it will submit to being transferred to another while its holder still lives and disagrees. The only means of ensuring the staff complies with the vote is to undertake a ritual sacrifice of its master. If his successor is anointed with his blood, the staff may well decide there has been no material change.”
“The ability to move for the procedure was removed from the Charter of the Society after Cecil Hallett was killed,” said Zacharias. “But it seems it has been restored.”
“That is what puzzles me,” said Damerell.
“The Charter may only be amended by the Committee by leave of the Crown. How has Midsomer managed to hurry the Government along? Do you recall our application to keep a cat in the Society gardens, by way of preserving the levels of atmospheric magic? We submitted our proposal to the Government last year, and the kitten we identified for the purpose is now a tomcat with an evil temper. An excessively magical creature—it could pass for a Fellow if it were able to hold a pen.”
“I knew it was Mr. Midsomer who has been trying to murder you!” said Prunella to Zacharias. “I suppose he is tired of failing, and is seeking to achieve his purpose by this means.”
“Trying to murder you?” said Lady Wythe.
Zacharias shot Prunella a furious glance. She subsided, looking contrite, but it was too late.
“I am sorry, ma’am. I had hoped to keep this from you,” said Zacharias. “There have been certain attempts—magical attacks—”
“Have there been more attacks?” said Prunella. “I declare Mr. Midsomer is a perfect nuisance! Were not the fire at the inn and that wicked puddle enough?”
Zacharias had hoped to pass over the topic lightly, but Lady Wythe’s eyes had gone round with alarm, and he could not avoid answering without increasing her anxiety.
“He would be a poor sort of assassin if he did not try again, since it is common knowledge that I am still alive,” said Zacharias irritably.
“There has been nothing worth mentioning, however: an asp disguised as a sausage at my dinner; invisible obstacles magicked onto my staircase, in the hope that I may trip and break my neck. I assure you”—this to Lady Wythe—“there is no need for concern. Considering the extreme tension that has subsisted within the Society since my investiture, it was only a matter of time before something of the sort happened. I consider myself fortunate that my enemy has so far been easily dealt with.”
“But is it truly Geoffrey Midsomer who has been conspiring against you?” said Lady Wythe. “He must be denounced to the Presiding Committee—put away in a gaol. I shall speak to Lord Burrow, and demand that he put a stop to these tricks—”
“By speaking to his nephew?” said Zacharias. Lady Wythe fell silent.
“Besides,” said Zacharias, into a depressed silence, “I do not know for certain that Midsomer is behind the attacks.”
“It does not seem unreasonable to suspect Midsomer of having something to do with them, however,” said Damerell, examining his fingernails with a contemplative air.
“Rollo and I will investigate his goings-on. It is clear an eye ought to be kept on the fellow, and Rollo has a remarkable nose for secrets, though you might not think it.”
This generosity embarrassed Zacharias, and he spoke with rather more impatience than he intended in trying to disguise this.
“I do not see that there is any need for you or Rollo to trouble yourselves with my affairs. It is absurd! As if I needed to employ a troop of intelligence agents on my behalf!”
“On the contrary,” said Damerell coolly, “it is tradition. Every Sorcerer Royal who survived more than a few months in office achieved his longevity by the judicious employment of spies.”
Chastened, Zacharias said, “I am conscious of your goodness, and I know you receive little enough reward for it. But then your kindness to me has always exceeded anything I could return.”
“If you wish to thank me, you would oblige me by leaving off such talk,” said Damerell crossly. “You need not flatter yourself that I am helping you on your own account. How could I do less for the connection of an old friend?” He bowed to Lady Wythe.
“It is not very civil of you to call Lady Wythe old,” said Prunella.
“Oh, Damerell may take any liberties he desires, you know. He can never be uncivil,” said Lady Wythe. She tried to smile through her distress. “It is a great comfort to me that you and dear Robert are taking up Zacharias’s cause.”
“We will do our best by him,” promised Damerell. “We shall be unflagging in our endeavours, despite ingratitude, mutterings, complaints. Never let it be said that Zacharias Wythe wanted friends in this world or any other.”
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