Chapter Four #2
“It should settle down gradually,” Jasper said, cautiously. “I daresay other creatures will be born and new mages found that have already been triggered by the potentiating power. But if I am right, Nettleford should settle down, and the influence will show up in London.”
Which was something to think about. How would London cope, with its much bigger population, when Miss Nettleford arrived and the storm of unexpected magic arrived with her?
Jasper hated sending messages by translocation.
He could do it. They always turned up at the right place, even if sometimes they arrived before he sent them.
However, frequently he had a splitting headache after sending one, or the poor mage at the other end was the victim of what felt like a blow to the head.
In this case, though, he could see no alternative. He needed a new destination, or at the very least, orders from the Duke of Findlater or the king confirming that they wanted Miss Nettleford in London, and were prepared for the consequences.
*
Nettleford Grange
Delia had not expected her mother to see her off, so she should not now be disappointed.
At least Father was there, standing in front of the cluster of servants who had come to watch as she carried Mary and Polly led Sapphire from the shed that had been their home to the wagon Mr. Thornton had prepared according to her specifications.
It would be a temporary accommodation. Apparently, they would be carried to the Shropshire Union Canal, and would travel the rest of the way to London on a canal boat.
Several of the maids from the manor carried what they were taking with them—the cradle containing the egg and hers and Polly’s luggage.
When Delia stopped in front of her father, Sapphire dug his hooves in and refused to budge. The maids passed them, to deposit their loads in the wagon.
Father cleared his throat. “Well, Cordelia, you are off to London.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Be a good girl,” he admonished. “Do not bring dishonor to the family.”
How encouraging. What did Father think she was going to do? Dance in public in her underthings? Lecture the House of Lords about the laws that preferenced mages over typicals? Make rude faces at royalty?
“I shall do my best, Father,” she said.
There was a commotion at the back of the crowd, a voice she knew saying, “Out of the way. Out of the way.” It sounded like…
It was! Mama had bestirred herself to see Delia off! Delia felt a surge of guilt at all the resentful thoughts she had sent Mama-wards in the past few weeks.
“Cordelia Nettleford. Do not step foot in that carriage before I have spoken to you.” Mama came puffing through the gathered crowd and right up to Cordelia, so that Sapphire snorted, and danced nervously in place. But his eyes did not turn red, so that was something.
“Cordelia, you are off to London,” Mama announced, as portentously as if she was delivering news that Delia had not heard.
“Yes, Mama.” Now, presumably, would come a stream of motherly advice. Delia was almost embarrassed at how eager she was for such evidence of maternal affection.
“I do not understand why the king has sent for you, but Sir Arnold insists that you must go. Be careful, Cordelia. London is a wicked place, and you are a naive country girl. Never be alone with a man.”
Delia opened her mouth to point out that her chaperone had an evil temper, no tolerance for the smell of men and a spike on his forehead that was already three inches long and wickedly sharp. Mama spoke before she could do so.
“But if you are to be compromised, make certain it is by a single man with wealth and a title. All the company of Heaven knows you shall not find a husband without tricking some man into it.”
Delia’s jaw dropped. That was Mama’s advice? Go to London and ruin herself in the hopes some man would marry her? When and how did she think Delia would manage such a feat while in seclusion with the unicorn?
“In any case, I wash my hands of you, girl,” said Mama.
“You need not bother coming back. We have managed without you while you have been quarantined with that nasty little horse, and shall continue to do so.” She sniffed, tossed back her head, and swept away, back through the gathering of servants, none of whom would meet Delia’s eyes.
Father, too, was retreating—not toward the house but to the stables, where he would, no doubt, settle down with the stable master and the bottle of the brandy they kept hidden in the stable master’s desk.
For a moment longer, Delia stood in the yard, holding Sapphire’s lead rope, feeling lost and alone. Then a tall gaunt nun sailed up to her, the long robes that swept the cobblestones adding to the illusion that she was afloat on the ground rather than walking like normal folk.
“I am Prioress Joan-Louise,” she said. “I am to be your chaperone, Miss Nettleford. Call me Sister Louise. Shall we settle ourselves in our wagon?”
She waved a hand at the other six unknown women who stood watchfully around the stable yard. They wore what Delia recognized as the warrior uniform of a women’s military religious order, and those who were not already on horseback had horses at the ready.
“I shall introduce you to my sisters when they join us on the canal boat,” said Sister Louise.
“They shall be your guard between here and London. And young Mr. Thornton’s men, too, of course.
” The last sentence was a patronizing addition.
The warrior nun clearly thought the men’s contribution would be of small account.
Sapphire whickered for attention, his blue eyes fixed on Sister Louise. The nun bent over him to scratch his neck, and he bumped affectionately against her legs, rubbing himself on her habit.
“He likes you,” said Delia, trying not to sound as surprised as she was. “He is usually very standoffish.”
“I am a healer mage,” said the prioress. “Animals tend to sense that, and to feel safe with me. Come along, Miss Cordelia. Let us get ourselves settled.”
“Please call me Delia,” said Delia as she hurried toward the wagon, trying to keep ahead of the unicorn, who had decided to keep up with his new friend’s long strides.
“My little friend here is Polly, and she is carrying Mary, the lindwurm. We do not know what sort of being the egg will hatch out to be, so we have not named her, yet.”
“I hear the minotaur has been baptized Hector,” said Sister Louise, “and the pegasus is named Zephyr, after the famous horse of Blessed King Arthur the Gentle.”
Delia stopped short, feeling stricken, and then had to run a few strides to catch up with the others. Once they were aboard the wagon, and once Sapphire had settled down and stopped attempting to bite everything new—and everybody, while he was at it—the nun showed that she had noticed.
“What surprised you in the yard, Delia?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
“It is Mary,” Delia explained. “She came to me straight after she was born, for her mother was frightened of her. I never thought to have her baptized. I should have done so, should I not? She is a dear baby, and it is not her fault she is a snake from chest down.”
“Of course, it isn’t,” Sister Louise agreed.
“God’s marvelous ways are beyond us, Delia, but we can be certain he loves all his children.
Once we rejoin my sisters and are settled on the canal boat, would you like me to baptize the little one?
We shall hold a little ceremony for her.
I would suggest waiting until we arrive at our destination, but one never knows what might happen on a journey. ”
The nun rubbed her temples as if they ached, and added, “Have you been told about the change of destination, Delia? I received a message from Mr. Thornton yesterday evening. We are not to go to London, but to Dronford Castle in the Peak District. At least for the present.”
No London? How disappointing for Mama.