The crunch of gravel distracted her and she looked down to see a young man pulling up in a sparkling BMW. He jumped out and hurried around the car to open the door for Ursula. Putting birds from her mind, Lily followed her grandmother while murmuring a word of thanks to the chauffeur. He pulled smoothly out of the driveway and toward the estate entrance.
Once on their way, Lily asked Ursula about the chauffeur in surreptitious undertones, since John Faust had said the butler and maid were the only human staff. Ursula waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, he’s one of Fletcher’s nephews. The boy wanted to study at an American university, so he drives for us in the summer. Henry has a mind to train him as Fletcher’s successor, but the lad’s a tad young for that, and I told Henry so. But never mind all that. We have so much to catch up on. It’s delightful having another female in the house amid all the dull males. John is always in his workroom, and Henry, of course, is away taking care of business during the day. We’ll have so much fun, just the two of us, I’m sure. Now, tell me everything. Your life, your house, your position at that library, your magic—John said you take after him in skill, of course, but who has had the privilege of teaching my lovely granddaughter? And men, are you seeing anyone?” She said all this in one long, gushing stream of words, barely pausing for breath and not leaving any opening for Lily to actually answer her questions. Not that Lily wanted to. What a busybody, she thought, asking about her love life. As if she would discuss it with a stranger, even if they were related.
Yet, as long as it took her to think these things, Ursula’s brief pause was over and the hurricane winds were back. “Well, I suppose we’ll have all sorts of time to chat later, now that you’re back. What’s really important is today and tomorrow. Of course I told everyone who’s anyone you’ve returned, back from university at last and ready to be introduced to society. John told me you have a degree in history, which is acceptable for a lady of your status, if rather bland. He also said you’re the head archivist at Agnes Scott. It’s a respectable college, but very small. We won’t mention that to anyone, especially not that you’ve been working for a living. Goodness, no! We’ll just say you’ve recently returned from university and took extra time to intern as an archivist to aid in your history degree. No one need know the particulars. It will be a scandal that you didn’t attend Oxford, but that can’t be helped. I’ve indicated you have a delicate disposition and so chose to attend a prestigious private university in the States rather than travel overseas.”
“Wait, you’ve told who what?” Lily interrupted, barely believing her ears as indignation overcame shyness.
“Why, everyone, dear,” Ursula said in surprise. “The DuPonts and the Johnstons and the Chandlers...but of course you wouldn’t know any of them, not the way that woman raised you.” Ursula spoke the words with such obvious disgust that Lily blushed, though whether from anger on behalf of her mother or shame, she didn’t know. “But we won’t mention any of that. It’s in the past, and that’s where it ought to stay. Just change the subject if anyone is impolite enough to ask. It’s expected.”
“I don’t understand. Who would be asking, and when?”
“Why, your debutante ball, of course! You can’t imagine how exciting it all is. Twenty-three years John has been looking...” Ursula paused to sniff, and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that quite literally materialized in her hand. When she was finished, she simply dropped it with a flourish and it vanished again. “We’ve kept the whole affair as quiet as one can, you know. But it hasn’t been easy. It was such a scandal when that woman disappeared with you and we had no notion if you were even alive or dead. The ball is a coming-out, or homecoming celebration, if you prefer. You’re a bit old for it, of course. Most girls have their debutante before university, but again, that can’t be helped. It will be a quiet affair—well, not too quiet, of course, you must meet all the most important people in these parts—but on such short notice I could only get ahold of a few dozen, instead of the hundred or more you really deserve. Everyone will want to see you and talk to you, the heir to the LeFays. I was so disappointed when John wouldn’t remarry, of course. But he wouldn’t have it. Too engrossed in his work and looking for you.”
Lily finally found her voice, or at least half of it. “A—ball?” she fairly squeaked in alarm.
“Of course, dear. But not to worry, I’ve arranged tea with the most important ladies this afternoon, so you can become acquainted. Mrs. DuPont and Mrs. Johnston are the matriarchs of the two most important wizard families in these parts—after the LeFays of course—and it’s essential you make a good impression. We’ll need to pick out a suitable wardrobe for you, and of course a gown for tomorrow.”
“I...apologize,” Lily stammered. “If John Faust had warned me I could have—”
“Nonsense, dear. Nothing you could buy on a library salary would have been good enough. We shall outfit you with the most fashionable clothes, of course. It’s only proper, as I’ve missed twenty-three years worth of spoiling! You wouldn’t deprive me of that, would you?” she asked in an off-hand way, as if the answer were obvious.
Lily didn’t know what to say and so didn’t say anything. It was easier than trying to resist. Even though she was distinctly uncomfortable with it all, it was reasonable. Her grandmother had missed twenty-three years of interaction with her. If her stepfather’s parents were anything to go by, it was a grandparent’s purview to spoil their grandchildren and shower them with delighted gushing and cheek-pinching at every opportunity. At least Ursula hadn’t made a move toward her cheek. And debutantes were normal for high-society girls, even if she was altogether too old and had no desire to be thrown a party. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to be a part of her father’s world. Yet, it was the heritage she’d long sought. How could she turn away now? Tea wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps she could make a token showing at the ball and then go hide in the library. These thoughts reassured her. She remained silent throughout the drive, giving vague, subdued answers to every question Ursula peppered her with.
Their shopping trip was a whirlwind of high-end stores and fittings, trying on clothes that cost more than she made in a month. She attempted to remain engaged and bond with her grandmother, who seemed to be trying hard—in her own clueless, overbearing way—to include her. Or rather, control her. The treatment rankled her, but she stayed quiet; they were only clothes, after all. She often thought of the quiet Henry, wondering if Ursula was why he was so reserved.
When they finally got home around three—trunk stuffed full of bags upon bags of items—Lily was burned out and ready to go hide in her room. But Ursula would only allow her a brief hour to freshen up, relax, and change into some of her new clothes before coming back down to greet their guests for four o’clock tea. Only the prospect of a proper English tea and her curiosity at meeting other wizards kept her going. Otherwise she would have just hidden, and damn the consequences.
The tea was excellent. Lily had rarely tasted such wonders as the constructs prepared, but then, if you’d had hundreds of years to perfect your cooking, of course you’d be good. In addition to the delectable spread, silver needle white tea was served—an expensive tea Lily had heard about but never tasted. It was delicate and refreshing, with infusions of cucumber and fruit that made for a sweet, silky aftertaste.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same about their guests. Mrs. DuPont was as proud as her name sounded, and Mrs. Johnston as boring. Both were wizards but, like all proper and upstanding citizens of the mundane world, they were used to operating without magic for most normal, everyday tasks. To Lily, it seemed they actually went out of their way to avoid using it if it meant doing any extra work themselves. When Mrs. DuPont’s tea was too cold, she summoned one of the constructs with a haughty wave and sent it back to the kitchen for more, when a perfectly simple heating spell would have fixed the problem in seconds.
Lily survived the ordeal by retreating into her shell and letting Ursula do the talking. Though
they addressed her politely, both ladies eyed her throughout, measuring and examining every stitch, every hair, every motion she made or word she said. It was like being on trial. She couldn’t understand why they were so interested. An uncomfortable feeling in her gut, however, told her there was more going on than her tired and socially awkward brain was catching onto. She’d simply have to wait and ask John Faust about it later.
After the guests left, Lily retreated to her room, flatly refusing to emerge for dinner with the excuse that the day had tired her out and she felt faint, so would take dinner in her room. It felt good to finally say no, and it was a minor enough matter that Ursula gave way. It was also surprisingly pleasant to realize she had constructs at her beck and call that would cook, serve, and clean up every meal. It was nice to kick back for once, though she knew she’d eventually itch to cook, herself.
Dishes cleared away and stomach full, Lily rested on her canopy bed and reflected that John Faust had still not returned from his “urgent business.” That was disappointing. He had yet to show her his workshop and she’d been dying to see it all day, resisting the impulse to do a bit of exploring on her own.
She was lying there, staring at the fading sunlight on the underside of her canopy, when she heard scratching at her window. It went ignored for a time, since a tree by her bedroom window at home made a similar sound when a wind came up. But then she realized there were no trees near the house and no wind. As she considered whether to drag herself from bed to investigate, a quiet, almost furtive meow made her sit bolt upright.
Scrambling to the window, her mouth dropped open at the sight of Sir Kipling balancing precariously on the ledge, ears laid back, a scowl of annoyance pasted across his feline features.
“Stop imitating a fish and open the window,” he hissed at her through the glass.
Still in shock, Lily fumbled with the window latch trying to puzzle out how in the world Sir Kipling had appeared two stories up, on an island, in a lake over a hundred miles away from home. She finally flipped the latch the correct way and heaved the window open enough for her cat to slip in. Peeking outside furtively, she ensured no one was staring up at them before shutting the window again.
“What in the name of heaven and earth are you doing here?!” Lily sputtered in a whisper, gesturing wildly with her hands in place of yelling at the top of her lungs.
“Rescuing you, of course,” Sir Kipling informed her, jumping up on the bed and beginning to vigorously wash himself.
Well, Lily thought, this is just fabulous. I’m being rescued by my cat. What next?
3
Of Mothers and Men
Sir Kipling and Lily sat opposite each other in the bathroom off her guest bedroom—Lily with her back against the tiled wall, Sir Kipling sitting on the toilet. The door was locked and the water was on in the sink to create cover noise. The last thing Lily needed was someone hearing a cat in her room and coming to investigate.
They glared at one another.
“First of all,” Lily began once it was clear she wasn’t going to beat Sir Kipling at their glaring contest, “what gave you the crazy idea that I need rescuing? Second, how in the world did you get up here, or even on this island? And don’t you dare say you can fly or teleport. I don’t think I could take that.”
“Nothing quite so melodramatic,” her cat replied. “Though I would give a lot to be able to fly. Then I could wipe the smug look off of those squirrels’ faces who keep taunting me at home. No, it’s all quite reasonable. After you left I tracked down your friend Sebastian. It took me the whole night to find him. Through a crude series of guessing games, I finally got him to understand that I could take him to you, and we set off together. He was as eager as I to rescue you from your own madness. As to how I got up here, I climbed. It’s what cats do.”
Lily closed her eyes, took a deep calming breath, and tried to think of what to say. She was exasperated but oddly gratified that Sir Kipling had come after her despite the coldness of their last parting. “The walls are solid stone,” was all she could think to say.
“I have claws. And I cheated,” he admitted.
“You what?”
“One of the not-humans working in the gardens had a ladder against the side of the house to trim the hedges. When he wasn’t looking, I climbed up to the stonework on the second floor and hid. There are quite a few useful nooks up here.”
“Okay, okay.” Lily raised her hands in defeat. “So you didn’t fly or teleport. But that still leaves me as mad as heck that you...wait a minute, Sebastian is here, too? Where is he? I can’t believe you two! You’re going to get me into such trouble.” She buried her head in her hands, furious and at her wits’ end.
“Actually,” Sir Kipling said, examining his claws. “He’s not here. Not on the island at least. You might want to know that there are considerably powerful protections around the perimeter that bar the passage of mundanes, among other things. He didn’t feel safe trying to scale the gate in daylight, so I came alone to scout the area and warn you.”
“Warn me of what?” Lily almost exploded, remembering just in time to lower her voice. “Warn me that my grandmother is a controlling maniac and my father is probably a millionaire? Oh, I’m sorry, did you not get the memo? That’s right, Mr. I Know Everything, John Faust LeFay is my father. My flesh and blood. And I’m not Lily Singer, as it turns out,” she said, feeling slightly hysterical. “I’m Lilith Igraine LeFay. Heiress to the LeFay line and all this.” She spread her arms wide, having gotten up and started pacing. “Is that what you’re rescuing me from? Is that what you’d rather I not know? What you and Sebastian would prefer to keep me from, so you can have me all to yourselves and your little games? Well, too late.” She reached the end of her outburst and stood, rigid, fists clenched and breathing hard as she stared at Sir Kipling.
He was silent for a long time, his golden eyes fixed on her, motionless except for the slight twitch of his fluffy tail. “Well,” he finally said. “That complicates things.”
“I’ll say it does,” she snorted, slumping down again against the bathroom wall.
“It’s also rather unfortunate,” he added.
“What?” Lily stared at him, her glare back.
“Well, you will be less inclined to listen to anything negative towards Mr. LeFay if he is your father instead of a random stranger.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “What nonsense has Sebastian been filling your head with?”
Sir Kipling took a moment to clean one paw with his extremely pink tongue before answering. “Namely, that since he last spoke with you he found evidence that the criminal mastermind behind the Clay Museum robbery is none other than John Faust LeFay.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lily said immediately, ignoring the jolt of worry that clenched her gut.
“Is it?” Sir Kipling asked. “I would say it has at least a seventy percent chance of being true. Besides, I’m inclined to believe Sebastian. He’s never been wrong about such things before. Why would you suddenly lose trust in his advice if not because you don’t wish to believe it?”
“Because it’s ridiculous!” she said, leaning her head back and rubbing her face. It gave her an excuse to avoid Sir Kipling’s inscrutable yellow eyes.
“It seems to me that the only ridiculous thing in our vicinity is sitting in front of me.”
“Oh, shut up,” Lily grumbled into her hands, then finally looked up. “I’m sure Sebastian doesn’t know anything. It’s probably just him and his new girlfriend poking around and getting into trouble. I appreciate your concern, even if it does make you a pain in the posterior. But I’m fine, and you and Sebastian need to go home and mind your own business.”
Sir Kipling looked at her long and hard. Determined to wait him out, Lily wondered what was going on in that feline head of his and if he had caught on to her bluff. For she was not, in fact, fine. She was confused, annoyed, and frightened. But all those things were normal if you’d just discovered you had a family you
never knew existed—and quite a family at that. There were a few doubts buried deep inside, but she ignored those. Somehow she would find a way to make this work. If only she and John Faust could be somewhere alone and undisturbed, spending their days researching magic. How glorious that would be. She didn’t need Sebastian and Sir Kipling around causing trouble until she was a little more sure of her position here.
Apparently Sir Kipling was fooled, or else he allowed her to think he was. “Very well,” he finally said. “You’re still being foolish, but I can see that no one will profit from my presence here. I can promise nothing in relation to returning to Atlanta, however. As of yet, they have not invented cat-driven cars. My ride might decide to be stubborn, as he is wont to do.”
“Well, then out-stubborn him,” she insisted, uncurling herself and standing up. “You do it to me often enough.”
“Only because you are especially weak-willed and susceptible to logic. Most of the time, anyway.”
“Weak-willed?” Lily spluttered. She wasn’t weak-willed, she told herself. She just changed her mind when necessary.
“Yes. But Sebastian has a decided invulnerability to logic. He is much more impulsive, and once he has an idea in his head, naught will turn him from his course. You are his friend and he thinks you’re in trouble. I suspect I’ll have more luck convincing him to clean his house than leave you here.”
“That bad, huh?” she asked, exasperated. Why did males always have to be such a pain? Though still furious, she couldn’t deny she felt slightly more generous toward him at the thought of his stubborn loyalty. And if he was here, he wasn’t with Tina. “Just keep him out of the way, will you? I’ll probably be here all next week. I need time to get to know my family and figure out how this changes things. After a few more days he’ll see I’m fine and go home.”
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations Page 17