Chapter 1 #4
Flora’s blue eyes fastened themselves upon the Marquess’s face. She was frowning.
“Isn’t that so, my love?” Chomondley pressed.
“Oh,” Flora said, her face smoothing over like a blank sheet of paper. “Yes. That’s so.”
Rabton pointed his knife at his son. “There, you see? Just a stunt, that’s all.
” He turned the conversation to the hunt set to take place next week, and inquired of Mr. Young whether he was a horseman, to which Simon made stammering reply while James looked at his sister’s face in mute alarm.
After dinner he declined port and cigars, begging the fatigue of the journey, which allowed Simon to do the same.
They could not decently seclude themselves somewhere to converse after that, but mounted the stairs in silence, each to his rooms.
The instant James sat on his bed, preparing to think through the problem, he was startled by a knock on the door. The perpetrator was a small young woman who, after a moment, he identified as Flora’s maid. He was almost sure her name was Irene.
James hoped he would not have to gently ward off a clumsy attempt at seduction.
He would have declined in any case, having a fine sense of his own responsibilities, but furthermore, the lady’s figure was not to his tastes.
James rather preferred women of a Rubenesque appearance, where this Irene was small and slender.
Her eyes were pretty, but her skin was marred by freckles; her mouth, too, was wide and mobile, not the tiny pout James thought he favoured.
Then the girl opened her mouth, and if her appearance had surprised James, what she had to say stunned him entirely.
"I am Irene Crawford, my lord, your sister's maid.
I beg you forgive me this intrusion, but I must tell you that the Marquess of Chomondley cast a spell to break your sister's will and force her to accept his proposal, which he made in her chambers last night before dinner.
I saw the white aura, my lord. The Marquess is an evil magician and no true gentleman, and he has ensnared your sister's heart by unnatural means. "
The pretty eyes were passionate, the freckled skin flushed with anger, and the wide mouth bit off each word with little white teeth.
James, as if in a daze, thought that Miss Crawford might have some looks after all. Then the true import of her speech struck him, and he stiffened. "You accuse his lordship of base and illegal magick, and with no proof other than your word," he said.
Irene held herself very still. "I do, my lord."
"Knowing that if I take umbrage at this insult to my father's guest, you risk being turned out of this house without reference, without hope of future employment in service, and with no funds to ease your passage."
Irene bit her lip. "Yes, my lord."
James let out a short laugh and collapsed into a chair. "Thank God for you, Irene Crawford," he said.
"My lord?"
"I could not work it out at all. Flora's letters said nothing of favouring this guest—rather the opposite—and yet she spent most of dinner echoing his opinions. I suspected something underhanded, but my own magickal talents are meagre, and I could not discern the cause."
"No, my lord," Irene said unthinking, still dizzy with relief that she was not to be turned out that very night.
James' black brows lifted. He was unaccustomed to contradiction, especially from servants. "No?"
Well, Irene thought, she had come this far. "No, my lord. I have some facility for adjudging magickal talent, and I sense that you have great potential in the art, yet to be applied."
"Ah," James said. "So I am not untalented, merely lazy.
Well, you may be right—Simon certainly thinks so, though he helps me with my cantrips all the same, the good fellow.
But Flora, Irene. What are we to do? She has consented, she appears deliriously happy with the match, and Pater will certainly never dissolve it upon a suspicion. "
Irene refrained from pointing out that his "we" presumed a great deal, and said only, "No mere suspicion, my lord. I know what I saw."
"Pater is unlikely to accept the knowledge supplied to him by—forgive me—a lady's maid."
Irene smiled ironically. "That is what I am, my lord. What is there to forgive?"
James felt unaccountably discomforted by this calm reply, but reapplied himself to the problem at hand. "I suppose I could claim that I witnessed the white aura myself," said he.
"If it came to court, my lord, you would be discredited by the barrister's truth incantation," Irene said.
"If it came to court, Pater would be furious and Flora humiliated," said James. “I think Pater would rather dissolve the match, if I but perjure myself to him directly.” He chewed his lip. “But I can’t guarantee it, and you’re right.
Any barrister would discredit my statement. Would you testify, then, Irene?"
"I would," Irene said, though her heart quivered at the thought. A lady's maid who testified against the will of her employer would be unlikely to find another position in service, and there were not yet many half-crowns in the savings box.
James saw her shudder and divined its cause. "That must remain a last resort," he said. "I would rather not haul you in front of the magistrate, if it can be at all avoided. What if there were a counterspell that could break this enchantment?"
Irene frowned, and James had the half-conscious desire to smooth the wrinkle in her brow with his finger. "I do not know of any, my lord."
"Nor I, but Simon may. He cannot apply them, but there's not a fellow in our college that can match him for magickal theory. If he could turn up such a spell, would you help me cast it?"
Irene's face flooded with colour and James, realizing his gaffe, sprang to his feet. "I do apologise. It was very improper of me to ask; I beg your pardon."
But Irene recovered her composure and lifted her stubborn chin. "No, my lord, you need not apologise; you are moved by concern for your sister. I should be glad to help you and Mr. Young in any way I can."
"You are sure?" James asked anxiously. “I can’t see any other course of action, though Simon might have some ideas.”
"Quite sure," said Irene. "Although I beg your discretion."
"Of course," James said. "Let's see. Shall we all three meet tomorrow evening in the library? No one goes there; Pater prefers the games room for after dinner."
Irene considered it. Contrary to the viscount’s assertion, she knew very well that people did go into the library: The house maids to dust the rows of unopened books, and Mrs. Framble to make certain they did.
However, that was during the daylight hours, when there was more light to see to their duties.
The great fire would be banked after dinner, and the room should remain empty until the dawn, when little Elsie would arrive to set it burning again. "Late evening, my lord?" she suggested.
"Yes, shall we say eleven to meet? We could cast the spell at midnight."
"A proper hour for countering foul magick," Irene said, with approval.
James smiled, and bade her a gracious good night.
Irene, as she hurried up the back stairs to her narrow bed, reflected that his young lordship was really very handsome when he smiled. It made his eyes look particularly bright.
Simon received the news James related to him after breakfast the next morning with a vicious and martial air his friend had not suspected lurked within that noble mind. “Can’t you call him out, James?” he demanded.
“Not in this age, old boy,” James said, considerably taken aback. “If I perforate Chomondley at ten paces I’ll be clapped in irons before dinner time.”
“But you are an excellent shot,” Simon pointed out, squinting meditatively over the grounds from his bedroom window. “Could you not shoot him from further away and claim it was an accident?”
“Good Lord! Simon, I don’t propose to murder the man. He must be stopped, that’s clear, but violence isn’t the solution. Can you rummage up something from your books? You must have something on love spells.”
“I’m sure I do, but what happens then?”
“Flora is freed.”
“Yes, James,” Simon said, with evident impatience.
“And then Chomondley goes on to some other poor girl, without a clever lady’s maid or a protective brother to aid her.
For that matter, I’m sure he’s done similar things before.
Spells that produce the white aura take practice, and he would have wanted to be very sure of himself before he attempted to suborn Lady Flora, who is evidently equipped of a fighting spirit. ”
“Oh, damn,” James said, as the problem finally unfolded itself in front of him.
“It will have to go to the magistrate after all. Hell! Not that Chomondley doesn’t belong in the dock, but I promised Irene she needn’t testify—well, I made an undertaking, anyway.
And the press will make a terrible fuss.
Peer’s Daughter Appears As Witness. Fainting Lady Flora Faces Fearsome Former Fiancé.
Look here, Simon, isn’t there another way? ”
“If there is, I can’t see it,” Simon said, with the scholar’s remorseless allegiance to truth.
“We ought to free Lady Flora first, not least because she will be a key witness for the prosecution. And I suppose before we attempt a magickal solution, we might see if distance or conversation weaken the spell. Your sister showed some encouraging signs of resistance at dinner.”
At first, when James inveigled his sister and her companion away from their seats in the morning room under the excuse of showing Simon around the grounds, it appeared the foul magick had only strengthened its grip on Flora’s mind.
She conducted her duties as hostess with indifference, and all her animation was reserved for the wedding-to-be.