Chapter 6
In Which an Unexpected Arrival Results in a Series of Unexpected Events Including a Request to Help Navigate Potentially Treacherous Waters; And an Unfortunate Bout of Ninnyhammer-itis Ensues …
Mina prided herself on her ability to make split-second decisions and swiftly change course as the occasion demanded.
At least that’s what she told herself as a leygram or te-ley-gram—a magical telegram sent via the Fae’s mystical leylines that ran through the earth—suddenly materialized on the mat in her dormitory room at the Parasol Academy.
Reaching into her uniform’s pocket, Mina withdrew her leyspectacles and slid them on. The Academy-issued glasses of delicately wrought silver contained lenses made from azureblue Fae glass. Without them, it would be impossible to read the leygram; the text would look like utter nonsense otherwise.
While any Parasol Academy staff member, student, or fellow graduate could send a leygram, Mina had a feeling that this one had been sent by Mrs. Temple.
If that were the case, it could not be ignored, no matter its contents.
No matter that Mina’s fingers all but trembled as she picked up the magical missive that shimmered with a blue pearlescent glow.
If the leygram had been sent by the Academy’s headmistress, hopefully it was about an interview and nothing else.
It had been several days since Mina had left Ablington and returned to London.
Even though she’d been reluctant to leave Christopher behind, she’d had to in order to secure another governess’s position.
Not only for the income, but she didn’t want to arouse Mrs. Temple’s suspicions that anything might be amiss—if “amiss” meant “I’ve effectively stolen Sir Bedivere Ponsonby’s ward out from under his nose and hidden him away in the country until I work out what to do next.
” Waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall because of what she’d done was nerve-wracking indeed, especially since she was staying at the Parasol Academy.
It was hard to maintain a calm veneer in front of the Academy’s formidable headmistress when you were quaking on the inside, worrying that the crime you’d committed would be discovered.
It was safe to say that Mina still wasn’t sure if she should confide in Mrs. Temple or not.
To confess or not to confess: that was the question.
The problem was, it was simply impossible to predict what the headmistress—a staunch proponent of upholding the Parasol Academy’s rules—would do.
And so, Mina continued to prevaricate about what she should do.
Of course, right now you should stop faffing about and open this leygram, Mina sternly told herself. Indeed, the parchment buzzed against her fingertips as though urging her to make haste and read it.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, she ripped open the envelope …
and then exhaled in relief. Yes, the leygram was from Mrs. Temple.
But she didn’t want to haul Mina over the coals about anything at all.
The headmistress simply wanted to talk to her about a prospective employer “as soon as possible” as the gentleman—a nobleman, in fact—was presently waiting in the headmistress’s sitting room along with his ward.
Excellent. Good. This is good. This is what you want, Mina reassured herself as she put away her spectacles and crossed to the looking glass to check her appearance.
Her hair was secured in a sleek coil at the back of her head.
Her navy-blue governess’s uniform of fine merino wool was perfectly pressed, her crinoline skirts falling in neat pleats to the floor.
Her black kid half boots were buttoned up and polished.
Her Parasol Academy issued knife was sheathed to her ankle (one never knew when one might need to fend off an attacker or cut through a hopelessly knotted pair of leading strings or a kite string).
As Mina was a governess rather than a nanny, she wasn’t required to wear a white cotton pinafore or lacy cap.
All she needed to do was don her white silk gloves and she’d be ready.
Of course, she was a teensy bit nervous—indeed, she had difficulty doing up the tiny pearl buttons that secured her gloves.
But despite her fumbling fingers and the tripping of her heart, Mina trusted that she would be able to convey the required air of amiable poise that would convince this nobleman waiting to see her that she was eminently qualified to care for and educate his ward.
When Mina entered Mrs. Temple’s office a short time later, she found the headmistress at her desk, examining her reflection in a silver and crystal encrusted hand mirror. She had to clear her throat to secure the blond woman’s attention.
“Oh, Miss Davenport,” exclaimed Mrs. Temple as though she hadn’t been the one to ask Mina to “come in” only a moment beforehand.
She placed the mirror down on the purple leather blotter on her desk, then beckoned her closer.
“There you are. Let me fill you in on your prospective employer and his eight-year-old ward before I make the introductions.”
“Of course, Mrs. Temple. I’m most eager to begin working again.
” As Mina approached the ornate mahogany desk, she studied the headmistress.
Mrs. Felicity Temple—who was really a “miss” but had adopted the honorific of “missus” to clearly indicate she was a serious woman of business—was a petite, attractive woman who was only four years older than Mina.
Her heart-shaped face was framed by clusters of immaculately styled pale blond ringlets and her gray eyes held a shrewd light.
While the Parasol Academy’s headmistress was nothing but committed when it came to upholding the Academy’s high standards and protecting its reputation for excellence, her steely determination was tempered with wisdom and kindness.
Once employed in the Royal Nursery, Felicity Temple even commanded Queen Victoria’s respect.
In fact, it was well-known that Mrs. Temple had physically protected three of the Queen’s children during an attempted assassination attempt on the Queen herself.
Without a doubt, the Parasol Academy’s current headmistress was a force to be reckoned with.
Considering the fact that Sir Bedivere Ponsonby had sacked Mina three weeks ago, Mina considered herself fortunate indeed that Mrs. Temple still had faith in her as a governess.
“I also wanted to thank you for … for giving me another opportunity to prove myself, Mrs. Temple,” Mina said.
“I’ve been so terribly worried that my recent dismissal has resulted in an enormous blot upon my résumé.
That my professional reputation has been irrevocably stained. ”
The headmistress waved a hand as though she were batting away a pesky gnat.
“There are no blots, small or otherwise, Miss Davenport. I know that you are an excellent governess. Lady Grenfell, God rest her soul, certainly sang your praises. And I’m well aware that Sir Bedivere is a completely different kettle of fish.
Your competence has never been brought into question, so worry no more on that score. ”
Mina’s lungs tightened and her heart thudded uncomfortably against her ribs.
Was now the time to confess to Mrs. Temple that she’d spirited Lord Fitzwilliam off the Valiant at the urging of Lady Grenfell?
That Sir Bedivere might be under the influence of an ensorcelled ring that was making him act out of character?
Perhaps Mrs. Temple might be able to shed some light on Lady Grenfell’s prophetic dream.
But as Mina grappled with all the arguments for and against speaking out versus staying tight-lipped about what she’d done to protect Lord Fitzwilliam, Mrs. Temple was speaking again.
“Now that we’ve put all your concerns to bed,” continued the headmistress, “let me tell you about the nobleman presently waiting to speak with you. He’s actually an Irish marquess and he’s asked for you by name, Miss Davenport!
Although,” she added after a moment, “there seems to be some confusion about your marital status. He asked for Mrs. Davenport.”
An Irish marquess? He wanted to see Mrs. Davenport?
Oh no! No … It couldn’t be Lord Kinsale, could it?
But it must be.
Mina strove to keep her manner as composed as the Queen’s, even though her pulse was leaping about like a startled rabbit.
If … if Lord Kinsale was here, what had he told Mrs. Temple?
Had he mentioned their recent encounter on the Kinsale Cloud?
And the fact that she apparently had a fair-haired son by the name of Christopher?
Mrs. Temple had met young Lord Fitzwilliam before and knew his Christian name.
She was a most canny woman—indeed her insight almost bordered on preternatural at times.
It would be quite easy for her to put two and two together …
Before Mina could harness her runaway thoughts, Mrs. Temple spoke.
“I understand this marquess—Lord Kinsale to be exact—is acquainted with the Duke of St Lawrence. So perhaps your old alumna, dear Emmeline Chase, recommended you for the post. I know you and the newly wedded Duchess of St Lawrence have always been firm friends.”
A wave of relief whooshed through Mina. “Yes. Yes, that must be how this Lord Kinsale heard of me and the Parasol Academy. I must write to darling Emmeline and thank her for the endorsement.”
“Please pass on my fond regards to Her Grace,” said Mrs. Temple with a smile.
“Oh, I will,” said Mina. She would indeed write to her friend—an exchange of confidences was long overdue—but first things first. She needed to secure this position.