Chapter 22 #2
“I came prepared to fight off a magical ambush, but find myself embroiled in a domestic melodrama—and what is worse, striving with Murchie’s wretched locationary, which is a spell I have never liked.
Indeed”—turning to Lady Wythe—“I think it unlikely Miss Gentleman has done what you fear, ma’am.
She is surely too sensible to run away with a man upon a single day’s acquaintance, when she has no assurance regarding his income. ”
“You believe she has eloped?” said Zacharias.
Lady Wythe hesitated.
“It is a dreadful thing to think of her,” she said.
“But I cannot make any sense of Prunella’s note unless it is that her abductor reappeared and repeated his offer.
I did think that she seemed to regret refusing him, when she was telling me of him yesterday.
It would be imprudent of her to accept, of course, but she is so young, and has lacked the guidance of firm principles, and it is so easy for an unscrupulous man to impose upon a giddy young female!
Zacharias, are you acquainted with the gentleman who wished to run away with her? ”
Zacharias murmured that they were acquainted, but he believed there was a misunderstanding. Mr. Hsiang was a very gentlemanlike man, not given to the abduction of young ladies—apart from anything else, he already had three wives.
“And he is so plagued by them that he has often expressed regret that he was not contented with one,” said Zacharias. “No, I cannot think she has run away with Hsiang.”
He was worried, but for quite a different reason. Zacharias did not know why Prunella had taken the familiars with her, but he suspected it meant Prunella had a plan. The thought filled him with apprehension.
The pale, frightened face of a footman peered around the door.
“Beg pardon, ma’am,” he said. “I have said you are not at home, but they have marched all the way from the Society, and they say they will not be put off whatever we do.”
For once Damerell relinquished his self-control so far as visibly to lose his patience.
“Oh, what now?” he cried.
· · ·
ZACHARIAS opened the door to an illusion of magicians on Lady Wythe’s doorstep. Midsomer was among them.
“Zacharias Wythe, you are summoned to appear before the Presiding Committee of the Royal Society of Unnatural Philosophers to surrender your staff,” said one of the men.
He handed Zacharias a scroll. “At a meeting called this morning, it was proposed that the Hallett procedure should be undertaken today. The vote was passed by a majority.”
Zacharias took the scroll silently.
Damerell swept the group of thaumaturges with a look of supreme contempt, ending with the man who had spoken. “Why, Cullip, you ha’penny conjurer, Wythe gave you your step!”
Cullip drew himself up to his full height.
“I was elected Secretary to the Committee because it was believed I should do my duty,” he said. “And I am doing it now, I hope.”
“Quite right,” said Zacharias composedly. “Gentlemen, I shall be with you directly. Damerell, if you would have the goodness to tell Lady Wythe—”
“I shall tell Lady Wythe nothing,” said Damerell.
Damerell did not often lose his temper, but he did nothing by half measures.
“They used to say that a man became a magician who was too scheming for Parliament, too bloodthirsty for the Army, and too much of a bloody sodomite for the Navy. But these are not quite the end times. We must still attempt to merit the name of civilised people. On what grounds is it proposed to strip Mr. Wythe of his staff? Even Hallett was deposed for a reason, however factitious. What fiction have you invented, pray?”
Cullip had gone a deep pink.
“It is a matter of common knowledge that Zacharias Wythe murdered Sir Stephen Wythe—his predecessor, his benefactor and the man who gave him his name!” he said.
“And if it is possible to do worse than that, he has done it, for he also murdered the familiar Leofric, who had served the Sorcerers Royal of England since time immemorial. Now Wythe seeks to rob honest Englishmen of our magic, and give it over into the hands of women and foreigners!”
“What an extraordinary series of accusations,” said Zacharias. “On what basis am I said to have committed such wrongdoing?”
He strove to keep his voice light, but his heart sank when he saw the look on Midsomer’s face. This was the opportunity for which his enemy had been waiting.
“Do you deny, sir, that the Fairy Court has deliberately withheld magic from Britain at the behest of a parcel of Malayan vampiresses?” said Midsomer.
“And was it not you who received their chieftainess when she came to England to further her scheme of revenge? You who defended her, and contrived at her escape when she was confined for her violent assault upon an Englishwoman?”
“I have not heard that Mrs. Midsomer suffered any greater injury than in losing a turban,” said Damerell. “Indeed, having seen the headdress in question, I am inclined to believe the witch rather did her a service.”
Zacharias shot Damerell a warning look. To Midsomer he said:
“I only recently discovered the block on England’s magic, and the reason for it.
If you were aware of it before, sir, I am surprised you did not report it sooner.
A solution might have been arrived at by now if the circumstances had been explained to the Society.
But it seems you have preferred to foment dissension among our colleagues instead. ”
“I have been working to ensure the removal of a murderer, a thief and a traitor from the highest office in English thaumaturgy,” said Midsomer coldly.
“It is hardly for you to judge the value of the exercise. If you wish to defend yourself, however, you may do so before the Presiding Committee. The Committee will doubtless give due consideration to any pleas you wish to submit in mitigation.”
“Yes, it will all be perfectly aboveboard, I am sure,” said Damerell, eyeing him.
“You certainly do not lack perseverance, Midsomer. I would not have expected less than that, having failed in all your attempts to assassinate Wythe, you should resort to knocking on his door and demanding that he put his neck in your noose.”
“You call me an assassin, sir?” said Midsomer. He tried to smile. “But the Hallett is a legal device, as I think you will find, and one of great antiquity.”
“Oh no,” said Damerell, his eyes gleaming. “I call you a sad incompetent, and your toad-eaters a pack of cowards, to seek to murder a man by committee.”
Midsomer’s face grew stormy. Cullip leapt forward, unholstering a wand from beneath his coat. Behind him an angry chant rose, many-voiced.
Damerell held up his hands. The sky grew dark, though it was morning. The lamps lining the street took on a lurid purple glow. Every man was haloed with green light, and the thick smell of magic washed into the nostrils with every breath.
“Gentlemen, I beg you will be calm,” said Zacharias, but he was already scrabbling for the counter-formula.
It was by pure chance that he looked up while searching his memory for the right syllables, and saw Prunella in the sky, speeding towards them upon a cloud.
She was shouting as she came, and when she leapt off her cloud he saw that she was soaking wet, her hair plastered to her head and her dress clinging to her form.
“She has run away,” she gasped. “She has hid herself in the sea, the coward, and she will not come out whatever names I call her. I had her—oh, I had her by the tail! I have searched an age, but the longer she is hidden, the more likely it is that we shall never find her. It is her realm, you know, so she will know all the best places to hide. You must come directly and find her out. There is not a moment to lose!”
“Prunella, my dear, you are soaked through!” cried Lady Wythe.
She burst forth to the startlement of the assembled thaumaturges, who had not observed her lurking behind the door.
“Where on earth have you been? But let us have no explanations now. We must get you dry as soon as we can. Oh—how do you do, sirs?”
The ominous chanting had fallen silent upon Lady Wythe’s appearance. Cullip stuck his wand back into his coat and muttered:
“Very well, ma’am, how d’you do? Ahem! I regret the necessity of disrupting your morning with Society business.”
“Not at all,” said Lady Wythe, smiling. “But you will forgive me if I ask whether the Society’s business could not be transacted somewhere other than my doorstep?
I have here a young lady who will catch cold if swift measures are not taken, and Zacharias has not yet had his breakfast. These domestic contretemps will seem of little consequence to you, sirs, but you will humour a mere female, I know. ”
The thaumaturges wavered. Lady Wythe had a great deal of natural authority; she was still held in considerable esteem by the Society; and she knew how to handle magicians.
She had resisted the temptation to rush out and make a scene, showing herself at precisely that moment upon good advisement, and she would have brought it off if not for Prunella.
“Zacharias will have to delay his breakfast, ma’am,” Prunella said firmly. “We must go and kill the fairy who has been trying to murder him.”
Midsomer had begun to speak, but he clamped his mouth shut. Zacharias stared at Prunella, taken aback.
“The fairy?” he said.
“We have had it all wrong, Zacharias,” said Prunella.
“It is not Mr. Midsomer who set those horrid traps for you, but his familiar! I saw the orb at the party, you see—the curse, I mean—so I went to his house, thinking I might discover if it was the same. But there Mrs. Midsomer attacked me! I routed her, however, I and my fa—” Prunella broke off, glancing at the thaumaturges.
“That is to say, I suppose her guilt overcame her, for she turned into a mermaid and fled to the sea. I pursued her, but when I could not find her I thought I ought to return and seek assistance.”
“Where is Midsomer?” said Damerell abruptly.