Chapter 33
In Which Any Confusion Is Dispelled (Not Spelled); And Rubbish Is Effectively Dealt With …
“Of course, I would love to live with you, Miss Davenport. And Lord Kinsale and Tom, forever and ever,” Christopher had declared in Mrs. Temple’s office at the Parasol Academy when Mina had asked the boy who he would like to reside with if he had a choice.
And just like that, any confusion about where Lord Fitzwilliam stood on the issue had been cleared up.
Sir Bedivere had confirmed he would support an official change in guardianship through the Chancery Court.
Mrs. Temple had even offered to have a quiet word with Queen Victoria about the matter; if the Queen herself lent her support to the change, then it was likely that it could all be made official within a handful of weeks rather than months.
Mrs. Temple had also pulled Mina aside for a quiet word.
“I think that for the time being, it would be best if you retained access to your magical tools,” she’d said.
The headmistress had reasoned that a break with the usual protocol—that a Parasol nanny or governess who resigned her commission had to give up practicing Fae magic—was justified given that Queen Mab might still continue to chip away at the protective wards keeping her contained in her Arctic prison.
Hopefully Good Queen Maeve would soon be able to make those wards “watertight” so her sister would no longer pose a threat to Christopher, or any children at all.
“Only time will tell though,” she’d concluded.
“Until then, Miss Davenport, I would recommend that you continue to cast a Guardia Nimbus spell each night. And one for young Tom Fleet. He’s Lord Kinsale’s ward and after this afternoon, Mab could very well focus her attention on him too. I’m certain Queen Maeve would concur.”
Mina had readily agreed. As always, she would do whatever she could to protect any child in her care. And Christopher and Tom were so very special to her. She knew Phinn felt the same as well. To think that very soon they would be a family made her heart glow.
As for Sir Bedivere and the fact that he now knew quite a lot about the Parasol Academy, including the existence of the Fae, he happily agreed to swear an oath of secrecy on the Parasol Academy Handbook, just like Phinn had.
“Even if I hadn’t taken an oath, I would never say anything about Mab or the Fae or the Academy,” he’d said.
“I’d be locked up in an asylum somewhere if I admitted to anyone I’d been ensorcelled by a cursed ring.
” Chagrin colored his voice as he added, “Now I just have to work out what to do with this dashed ship I bought. Although, I could do with a vacation, so maybe I’ll set sail for somewhere warm before winter sets in.
The Caribbean or Mauritius or Tahiti perhaps.
” He shivered. “Certainly no place where I could be turned into an icicle.”
Despite the fact a dismal gray evening was descending over London, the mood in the Marquess of Kinsale’s carriage on the way back to Eaton Square was exuberant.
There was much discussion between Mina, Phinn, Christopher, and Tom about having a celebratory “picnic” dinner consisting of all their favorite dishes—namely colcannon and sausages and cake—right in the middle of the drawing room floor.
Although upon arriving home, it was to discover there was another surprise awaiting Phinn and Mina.
As the carriage pulled up outside Kinsale House, they were greeted with the sight of Meddley Smedley and Mrs. Alderot ordering a pair of footmen to lug their trunks, various carpetbags, and several valises out to the front portico.
“Go-going somewhere?” inquired Phinn after he’d helped Mina and the children to alight.
Mina, who’d spied Frobisher lurking in the entry hall along with Brutus, quietly beckoned the valet over to usher the boys inside. Christopher and Tom didn’t need to hear a discussion which was bound to turn unpleasant.
Smedley looked down his hawkish nose at Phinn.
“After Mrs. Aldershot and I heard from some of the other staff about what happened between you and Miss Davenport in Hyde Park this afternoon, we have decided we can no longer afford to work here. Your reputations might be sullied, but we refuse to let that happen to ours.”
“I see,” said Phinn, narrowing his gaze.
“And what have you heard, exactly?” challenged Mina once the children were safely out of earshot.
“Because listening to gossip does you no credit, Smedley.” She turned her attention to the housekeeper, who was wearing an expression that was a cross between superior and belligerent. “Nor you, Mrs. Aldershot.”
The woman sniffed. “That’s rich coming from the likes of you, Miss Davenport. I thought Parasol governesses were supposed to be exceptional rather than common.”
“You might be lea-leavin’ me employ, Mrs. Aldershot,” snapped Phinn.
“But I’d have a care with how you … how you address me fiancée.
” When the housekeeper gasped, his mouth lifted into a wry smile.
“Yes, this afternoon I proposed to Miss Davenport and she’s con-consented to be me wife.
So you’d best not insult the woman who could provide you with a ref-reference. ”
Smedley gave a snort. “Marchioness or not, I doubt a reference from her”—the butler’s derisive gaze raked over Mina—“would be worth the paper it’s written on. I certainly shan’t be seeking one from you, my lord. Your predecessor would be horrified—”
“Enough!” growled Phinn, stalking up the front stairs until his nose was only inches from Smedley’s.
Given his bruised jaw, swollen cheek, and split lower lip, the Marquess of Kinsale exuded the energy of a man who should not be crossed.
Indeed, the butler had turned as white as a sheet.
“I’ll-I’ll not hear one more word from either of you.
In fact, bo-both of you can wait on the pavement for a hansom cab. Not … not on me doorstep.”
Transferring his gaze to the two footmen manning the front door he added, “I’d like you to move their trunks and other baggage down the stairs. Right n-n-now in fact.”
“But … but it’s started raining again,” complained Mrs. Aldershot. And indeed it had. The dark clouds that had amassed above the square looked like they were about to release bucketloads. “We’ll get soaked. So will our luggage.”
Mina, who’d already retreated to the shelter of the portico, arched a brow. “Well, considering you no longer work here, that’s not really Lord Kinsale’s problem now, is it?” she said.
Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say, growled Brutus from the doorway. He looked up at Mina. And I don’t mean you, Miss Davenport. Since the master is goin’ to marry you, I’ve decided ye’re agreeable enough. Well, as long as ye keep those sausages comin’ out o’ yer pockets.
Mina smiled. I’ve decided you’re agreeable enough too, Brutus. And I will always reward good behavior.
The pug returned his gaze to the butler and housekeeper, who were now fuming on the pavement. Do you want me to cock me leg on their luggage? Maybe that valise or that carpetbag? Or on Meddley Smedley’s trouser leg?
A pug must do what a pug must do when nature calls, remarked Mina. There might even be a sausage in it for you.
Brutus gave a yip of excitement as he barreled down the stairs, and as Mina took Phinn’s arm and her fiancé escorted her into Kinsale House, it was to a chorus of outraged exclamations and curses from the butler and housekeeper.
For once, Mina was not going to reprimand the pug for exhibiting bad manners. Because sometimes, bad manners were called for when dealing with nasty bullies like Smedley and Mrs. Aldershot.
As Brutus had so aptly stated: Good riddance to bad rubbish.