Chapter 1 #3
Mr. Meecham gave an eager nod. “Ah yes. Quite. That’s it. Jolly good.” He bowed to Lord Fitzwilliam. “I shall see you anon, my lord.” And then he turned on his heel and quit the cabin with nary a backward glance.
Mina permitted herself a small sigh of relief as she shut the cabin door.
Even though Mr. Meecham had been responsive to her suggestion—and with any luck, would forget the whole encounter entirely—there was no time to lose.
Bending down, she caught Lord Fitzwilliam’s gaze.
“Right. It’s time for us to go, my lord.
Is there anything you would like to bring with you?
Mr. Hopwell, your velvet rabbit perhaps? ”
Lord Fitzwilliam nodded. “Yes, but …” His expression grew fearful. “I-I can’t swim, Miss Davenport.”
Mina smiled reassuringly. “Oh, we’re not going to swim. We’re going to …” She trailed off. How best to explain the concept of teleporting to a child? “We’re going to step inside a magic cupboard, and when we exit the other side, we’ll have arrived somewhere safe.”
“Highwood Hall?” Lord Fitzwilliam asked hopefully.
Mina’s chest cramped. Highwood Hall was the young viscount’s ancestral home in Hertfordshire.
The house where he’d been born and where he’d lived with his parents before they’d tragically passed away a year ago in a carriage accident.
Lady Grenfell had lived with her godson there too.
As had Mina when she’d taken up her post as the viscount’s governess in March.
“I’m afraid not,” she said gently. “At least not for the moment. We’re going to visit my own mama and sister instead.
They live in the country too. In a pretty little cottage by the woods.
Sir Bedivere will not think to look for you there.
I also think it would be best if I introduce you to everyone we meet as Master Christopher, rather than by your title, or ‘my lord.’ Keeping your true identity a secret will make it almost impossible for your guardian to find you. If that’s all right with you.”
Lord Fitzwilliam nodded. “All right. I agree. That all sounds eminently sensible.”
While Mina hastily packed a small valise for the boy—she threw in a few changes of clothes that she found in his traveling trunk—he pulled his velvet rabbit from beneath the pillow on the narrow bed.
“I’m ready, Miss Davenport,” the young viscount said gravely.
“But where is this magic cupboard?” He nodded at the one in the corner. “This one is rather ordinary.”
Mina smiled. “Ah, but I have a special key that will wake up the magic. Would you like to see how it works?”
The young viscount nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”
Firmly tamping down any last-minute conniptions, Mina again retrieved her leyport key from her magical governess’s pocket.
In theory, she could use her leyport key in any door to open a leyline portal, but she preferred using cupboards and wardrobes rather than regular doors between rooms. Aside from the fact it was a relatively discreet way to te-ley-port, there was something about the whole act of unlocking the door and discovering the tiny white leylight in the shadowy depths of a cupboard that helped Mina to focus her energy when casting the teleportation incantation.
Once she’d unlocked the cupboard door (it wasn’t really locked, but she needed to use the key to awaken the Fae leyline magic), she beckoned Lord Fitzwilliam over. “See that small white light, flickering like a candle flame? In the back corner?”
The boy crinkled his nose as he squinted into the dimly lit recess. “I think so?”
“Well,” continued Mina, “after we climb in the cupboard, I’m going to make the light bigger, so it surrounds us.
For a moment or two, it will feel like we’re caught in a big gust of wind, but then we’ll find ourselves at my mama’s house, Rose Cottage.
The trip will feel a little strange—you might want to close your eyes to shield them from the bright light.
You might even feel a bit dizzy because the wind is quite strong.
But I promise you”—she gave the boy’s shoulder a reassuring pat—“everything will be all right. You have nothing to fear.”
Lord Fitzwilliam nodded as he hugged his velvet rabbit to his thin chest. “I trust you, Miss Davenport. My godmama told me that you are a good person and will always look after me.”
Mina smiled. “I will. Now, let us away.”
As she took one of Lord Fitzwilliam’s small hands, she trained all her attention on the leylight.
In her mind, she pictured where she and Lord Fitzwilliam needed to be—the ancient oak wardrobe in her bedroom in Rose Cottage in Ablington, the tiny village in Gloucestershire where she’d grown up.
Her bedchamber was the safest place she could imagine.
It was a much-needed haven in a storm.
With her umbrella tucked beneath one arm, she picked up Lord Fitzwilliam’s valise then drew the boy into the cupboard, holding him close for reassurance (and of course, the cupboard was so tiny, one had to pack into it like sardines in a tin can to fit at all).
As soon as she whispered the required magical incantation, “Vortexio,” they were both engulfed in a brilliant white light.
An overwhelming rushing and swirling sensation, akin to being swept up in a giant whirlpool, washed over Mina, stealing her breath …
and then just as suddenly the whooshing stopped.
Even though she was a tad dazzled by the fading leylight, she was aware Lord Fitzwilliam was still with her and that they were in another cramped and dimly lit space. Her wardrobe at Rose Cottage?
“Are we there yet?” whispered the young viscount. He was tightly clutching Mr. Hopwell and Mina’s arm. “Can I open my eyes?”
Mina gave one of the boy’s shoulders a light squeeze. “Yes, we are. And it’s safe to look.” But then a frisson of apprehension slid down Mina’s spine when she realized that something was wrong. Very wrong …
The enclosed space they were squashed into—another wardrobe, given the presence of massive cloaks and coats hanging from hooks—was moving. The floor beneath Mina’s feet was pitching and rolling, and the sound of creaking wood and surging water—waves perhaps—filled her ears.
Oh no! Mina pushed a decidedly masculine coat sleeve that smelled of sandalwood and pine needles away from her cheek. They were clearly not in her bedroom at Rose Cottage, but still on a ship.
Sir Bedivere’s ship? Were they in his cabin on the Valiant or in some other gentleman’s quarters?
Oh no, no, no. What a disaster!
She’d obviously been so nervous and distracted, she’d made a monumental teleportation blunder.
Mina had never made one before, but they did happen on the odd occasion.
Her good friend Emmeline Chase (actually now Emmeline Mason, the Duchess of St Lawrence) a former Parasol Academy nanny, had once ended up in the Thames during her training.
At least they hadn’t landed in the sea!
Lord Fitzwilliam reached for the wardrobe’s handle. “Can we hop out?” he whispered. “It’s awfully squishy in here.”
“I … um …” Mina swallowed. She was so rattled by the whole business of being teleported, and of course, her terrible error, she was momentarily lost in indecision.
The sensible thing to do would be to step out of the wardrobe to ascertain where they’d actually ended up.
She could try again to teleport them to her bedroom in Ablington.
But what if they ended up somewhere odd a second time?
Someplace worse than a ship? Like in the rough waters of the Bristol Channel or the Irish Sea or the North Pole itself?
At moments like these, Mina really wished she could let fly a whole host of expletives to release her frustration.
“Darn” and “drat” and “my goodness me,” while socially acceptable for ladies to use—and permitted by the Parasol Academy when in the presence of a child—suddenly seemed completely inadequate right now.
“Miss Davenport?” prompted Lord Fitzwilliam.
Mina rallied. “Yes, of course we should hop—”
She got no further as the wardrobe door suddenly flew open and a tall, dark-haired man with mountainous shoulders, a sharply hewn jaw, and eyes as green as the sea, gaped at her. Tucked beneath the man’s muscle-bound arm was a stout, snub-nosed dog—a pug.
“Wh-what the feck?” exclaimed the stranger in the lilting accent of an Irishman. And then the pug gave a short sharp bark and a low growl.
What the feck indeed.