The Would-Be Witch

by Boucher, Rita

  “Adrienne claims that it is merely the ill effects of her journey,” Lady Enderby said in obvious disappointment. “But I am still inclined to believe that it is the result of the magical forces that she confronted. Do you not think so, Lord Brand?”

  Adam refused to rise to the bait. “I would not presume to doubt Lady Wodesby. The traffic upon the roads to London is as close to the true work of the devil as I have ever encountered.”

  “Just so,” Lady Wodesby agreed with an approving nod. “In a few days, I am certain that I will be back to myself, but until then, I am faced with a dilemma. There are any number of invitations that I have accepted on behalf of Miranda and myself, but now, I fear, that I must send my regrets. It is a pity that she must miss it all.”

  “I would be pleased to take her under my wing, until you are on your feet,” Lady Enderby volunteered swiftly.

  “Were I you, Miss Wilton, I would prefer Thorpe’s paw to her wing,” Adam remarked quietly. “If not for the fact that he is a tom, he would do well among the rest of the Society’s cats.”

  “No, Lady Enderby, you are too thoughtful,” Miranda said, rushing to save herself. “But I would be stricken in conscience if I left Mama to recover on her own and I would not be a burden to you.”

  “How foolish, child! You have a house full of servants for that chore. Although you are well on the shelf, you may still sample the joys of town, even if an eligible suitor is unlikely,” Lady Enderby pronounced sonorously. “I am sure that people have long forgotten the disaster of your Season. Lord Hatfill walks with only the smallest of limps these days and he married Lady Simm’s daughter, so she can scarcely claim that you placed a curse to chase away her beaux, can she?”

  “Are you speaking of the girl Brummel anointed ‘Sour-face Simms’?” Adam asked, his eyes narrowing in annoyance at Lady Enderby’s unfair attack. It would appear that after close to a decade, Miss Wilton was still being held to account for every catastrophe that had marked her debut.

  “There were some rudesbies who used that sobriquet, Lord Brand,” Lady Enderby said in tight-lipped disapproval.

  “I agree it was rude, though wickedly appropriate. Apparently, the young woman perpetually appeared as if she was sucking upon lemons and her disposition, I am told, was as sour as her phiz,” Adam remarked. “Did they blame Miss Wilton as well, for the South Sea Bubble and the beheading of King Louis, Lady Enderby?”

  Lady Enderby’s lips pursed as she cogitated. “No,” she said at last, “I had never heard any mention of Miranda being associated with either of those incidents. Though, you can never tell about what people will say, especially when there is magic involved.”

  Adam could not entirely contain his expression of disbelief.

  “There are some of us, milord, who do place credence in such things,” Lady Enderby said, her chins wagging in indignation. “Lady Pelton, for example. The unfortunate woman was almost in tears last night when Monsieur Barone said he had to cancel the séance he was to perform for her. He said that the spirits were not receptive due to the evil influence of Beelzebub, so the time would not have been propitious.”

  “How disappointing,” Adam murmured, trying to keep a socially bland expression.

  Obviously, he was failing to contain his satisfaction, since Miss Wilton was eyeing him with a distinctly suspicious look.

  “Why did Lady Pelton wish to have a séance?” Miss Wilton asked. “Was there any reason that she felt a need to disturb the dead?”

  “It is so terribly romantic,” Lady Enderby said, her voice flowing heavy with honey, but her face devoid of emotion. “A love match it was, between Pelton and his wife and when he died five years ago-”

  “She proceeded to spend every last farthing that she had to contact his spirit,” Adam broke in, trying to keep his anger in rein. “I see naught that is romantic about it, Lady Enderby. Poor Pelton is doubtless revolving in his grave over his widow’s half-witted behavior. She has a handsome jointure, but she is barely one step before the bailiff due to this madness of hers. At least Barone has saved her a few guineas by bowing out.”

  “Oh, but he has not, Lord Brand,” Lady Enderby said, then put a horrified hand over her mouth. “Oh my, I should not have spoken of it,” she murmured.

  “But you have,” Adam said smoothly. “I assure you, Lady Enderby, anything that you say will not go beyond this room.”

  “Lady Pelton told me very expressly not to noise it about too broadly,” Lady Enderby said in a whisper that could be heard to the farthest corner of the room. “Monsieur Barone does not wish to anger Beelzebub again. That is why he told her to make absolutely certain that no one outside the circle will hear of the séance two nights hence.”

  “So that Beelzebub will remain in the dark?” Lawrence asked, looking significantly at Adam.

  “Precisely, Lawrence,” Lady Enderby agreed with a nod of endorsement.

  “I presume you will be part of the circle, Lady Enderby?” Adam asked.

  “Of course,” Lady Enderby said. “Although it is a steep price, I consider it a rare bargain.”

  “There is a charge?” Lawrence asked.

  “All of us are helping Lady Pelton to defray the burden,” Lady Enderby sniffed.

  “Would you like to divide the burden even further?” Adam asked. “Or mayhap, even whittle it down to nothing?”

  “What do you propose?” Lady Enderby asked, her interest whetted.

  “I wish to observe Monsieur Barone at work,” Adam said. “For that privilege, I am prepared to pay your fare and Lady Pelton’s.”

  “I am not sure,” Lady Enderby said. “Beelzebub—"

  “Is due to be spending the week’s end in Brighton, I’m told,” Adam replied. “Perhaps that is why Barone feels that he may ply his trade with assurance. I was planning to be with Prinny by the Steine myself at his Pavilion, but if I have the opportunity to share so special an evening with you, Lady Enderby . . .”

  Miranda rolled her eyes as the woman tittered, swallowing his flattery like treacle.

  “I do not know . . .” Lady Enderby said.

  “Come, milady, if you still fear the demon’s wrath, I shall go in disguise,” Adam offered. “It will be our little secret.”

  “Miranda, perhaps you would join us,” Lady Enderby said, torn between foreboding and frugality. “Surely, Beelzebub would suspect nothing with a Wodesby in the party.”

  “Since we are on such friendly terms with demon kind,” Miranda said, her tone even, but with a look that could scald ice. “Lady Enderby, as far as I am concerned—"

  “She would be absolutely delighted to join you, Hester,” Lady Wodesby concluded, throwing her daughter a warning glance as she and Lady Enderby proceeded to discuss the particulars, the latter’s voice booming sufficiently loud to rouse the dead.

  “Were you about to express your delight, Miss Wilton?” Adam asked quietly, under cover of Lady Enderby’s din, his amusement patent.

  “I was preparing to inform you and Lady Enderby that you may both join Beelzebub,” Miranda told him, a furious gleam midst the sapphire of her eyes. “‘Beelzebub would suspect nothing’, indeed!’”

  “Your attitude is most curious,” he said. “On the one hand, you seem to take great pride in this supposed sorcerous heritage of yours. On the other, you become infuriated with those who take you at your word and presume you have magical connections. Something of a contradiction, wouldn’t you say?”

  “None at all,” Miranda said, gathering the shards of her composure. “I merely dislike people who use others for their own ends, Lord Brand; no matter whether it is Lady Enderby or yourself. I can understand her motives, for they are very simple.” Miranda nodded toward the woman. “For her, we of the Wodesby family are little more than curiosities, odd exotica who might catch the jaded interests of the ton and thus, give her cachet for as long as that fascination lasts. But you, milord? You used my knowledge to nearly destroy Barone’s performance; I will not easily forget that
, and I have yet to find reason to forgive. And though you propose to save Lady Pelton from herself, I do not concede that you have the right to do so.”

  She cocked her head, as if trying to gain a different perspective. Once more, Adam had extraordinary sensation that she was stripping him down to his soul. But there was puzzlement in her eyes when she spoke again.

  “You, sir, are a man whose purposes I have yet to unravel. Is this a game to you? Some men bet upon the progress of raindrops down a pane, but you wager with reputations as stakes. Do you do this for the sake of innocent fools like Lady Pelton, or to make others, innocent or not, appear foolish?”

  Adam shifted uncomfortably in his chair, reminding himself that his aims were of the purest. He had done nothing wrong in his quest to save the credulous from the clutches of charlatans. There was absolutely no reason to explain himself, especially to a woman whose sympathies were more likely to lie with the devil. Still, he had to admit that she was honest and straightforward, an entirely sensible woman- with one major exception. “I have my reasons for seeking justice, but if you wonder so much about my motives, why not ask your Mama to take out her cards?”

  “I wish that she could,” Miss Wilton said, anxiety apparent in her every look and word. “But after last night, Mama is almost too weak to read Jane Austen much less the Arcana. I know that you mock my mother and myself, Lord Brand. Nonetheless, the Tarot has decreed that your affairs have somehow become entangled in mine. Until Providence sorts our destinies, I will endure your gibes.”

  “Perhaps, Miss Wilton, you might let me explain,” Adam began, but at that moment, Lady Enderby extracted herself from her chair.

  “Excellent! Then Miranda and I will both go directly from Lady Pertwee’s ball, to Lady Pelton’s,” Lady Enderby concluded.

  “I shall, naturally, send my regrets,” Lady Wodesby said, “but it is most generous of you to play duenna, Hester.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” Lady Enderby said, regarding Miss Wilton with a calculating smile before turning her attention to the marquess. “And do you go to Lady Pertwee’s ball, Lord Brand?”

  Adam nodded. “I will be there. I shall don my disguise in my carriage, so I will be able to accompany you directly to Lady Pelton’s.”

  Lawrence groaned. “You will have to manage yourself this time, Adam. I swore last night that my career as your abigail is at an end.”

  Lady Enderby stared at Lawrence curiously, waiting for him to elaborate, but when he did not, she plodded to the door. “All is satisfactorily arranged,” she pronounced. “Until Friday then.”

  “We ought to be leaving as well,” Adam said, getting to his feet. “We would not wish to overly tax you, Lady Wodesby, after last night’s ordeal.”

  Lady Wodesby acknowledged the sentiment with a graceful tilt of her head. “Dominick will show you out.” Thorpe rose from his place by the hearth and slipped out of the room.

  “Until Friday, Miss Wilton,” Adam said with a short bow.

  It seemed more a threat than a farewell, but Miranda kept her tongue between her teeth until the door closed behind them.

  “Why?”

  The single word contained more than one question, which her mother easily discerned. “Why did I consign you to the care of a harpy? Because though you are a third her size and half her age you will not be intimidated by her. Why did I allow you to become involved with the séance at Lady Pelton’s? Because Thorpe cannot possibly be there, nor regrettably, did he receive an invitation to dance at Lady Pertwee’s. You must be there to keep an eye on Lord Brand. Why did I stop you from insulting Lady Enderby? Because she would be a powerful enemy and so long as Lord Brand is under our protection, we need her as our ally. Moreover, Miranda Ariel, I find myself surprised that you would allow yourself to be bothered by the blather of a foolish woman.”

  “‘We would not wish to overtax you, Lady Wodesby,’” Miranda mimicked, exaggerating Lord Brand’s mannerisms. “I vow, you could have cut the sarcasm with an axe.”

  “And give worth to the statements of a man that you have labeled heretofore as shallow,” Lady Wodesby added, trying to hide a smile as her daughter gathered up her needlework.

  “I am going out, Mama. Suddenly, I am in dire need of fresh air. And if I must endure Lady Pertwee’s ball, I think that I deserve a new gown to see me through it.” Miranda said, going to the door.

  “Do you think Madame Robard can conjure?” Lady Wodesby asked. “Two days is precious little time for her to bring a gown to completion.”

  “I think that a few extra pounds might render her capable of working wonders,” Miranda said thoughtfully “Is there anything that you require from Bond Street?”

  Lady Wodesby shook her head. “Wonders indeed,” she said to herself, as her daughter’s retreating footsteps echoed. “The first time in years that the girl has shown the least interest in her appearance, Martin Allworth notwithstanding. Intriguing portents! Most unusual and me, without my Decks. Dragon droppings! Where in Hades could they have hidden my cards?”

  Chapter 6

  Friday’s shadows were stretching into dusk as Lord Brand casually produced a coin from behind the ear of the doorman at White’s and placed it into the man’s hand, evoking a smile from the normally stodgy old servant.

  “Keep it under guard, Charlie” Adam admonished as he took up his hat and gloves. “One can never tell about those vanishing coins.”

  “Aye, Lord Brand, I shall,” the man promised, tightening his grip.

  Lawrence chuckled as they walked down the steps and turned down St. James Street. “I suspect he will not loosen his hold on that bit of gold all evening.”

  But Adam did not reply. As soon as he had set foot on the walk, the odd prickling at the back of his neck that had been plaguing him for the past few days abruptly returned. “Do not look back, Uncle Lawrie,” he said in hushed tones. “I believe I am being followed.”

  “Gutmacher’s minions?” the older man asked.

  Adam shook his head. “I think not; my shadow has been far too subtle, the touch of a breeze almost. No matter how quickly I look about, I see nothing. Taylor’s crew is comprised mostly of the denizens of the ring and they tend to be as recognizable as a brawler in a corps de ballet. A quick confrontation in a dark alleyway is more in accord with their tastes.”

  “Unfortunately, you have no shortage of enemies these days.” His uncle sighed. “It has been less than a fortnight since Madame Fortuna publicly threatened you. When you published a list of her ludicrous predictions over the past ten years and documented that none of them had come true, I am told that she was livid.”

  “I believe she declared that I would be struck dead by lightning,” Adam said, looking up at the fading afterglow of the sun. “However, as there is not a cloud in the sky, I am presently unworried on that score.”

  “Madame Fortuna is by no means the only dabbler in the occult who would like to see you laid low,” Lawrence said, with a frown, skirting past a pile of lumber being used in the refurbishing of one of the shops. “Moreover, your covert activities while you were travelling on the Continent gained you some highly-placed enemies.”

  “I doubt that Fouche’s compatriots would strike just now. Napoleon’s collector of secrets presently has enough on his hands without seeking for petty revenge. He is a most practical man,” Adam said, pretending to look in the chemist’s window at number 29. While the display at D. R. Harris and Co. was of limited interest, he used the mirror effect of the glass to surreptitiously scan the street behind them, but there was nothing suspicious to be seen.

  “There are others who would enjoy seeing you harmed,” Lawrence said, “but with Adrienne’s prediction, I would still consider Gutmacher nee Taylor, the most likely menace to your safety.”

  Adam groaned. “Not you, Uncle Lawrie. You have seen far too much of the charlatan’s lay to be taken in by Lady Wodesby’s histrionics.”

  “Do not be so quick to dismiss her, Adam,” Lawrence said, hi
s lips tightening in annoyance as they moved on past Boodle’s. “She is not to be compared to Madame Fortuna. Lay Adrienne’s predictions against actual fate and you will find her accuracy remarkable, if not entirely correct.”

  “Anyone with a bit of acumen and some luck can spout generalities of the Nostradamus type, I suppose,” Adam said with dismissive disdain. “Unexceptional prophecies that can be twisted to suit specific events.”

  “Lady Wodesby’s predictions have ever been highly specific and highly detailed,” Lawrence disputed. “She did a reading for me nigh onto thirty years ago and most of it has come to pass.”

  “Most?” Adam asked, pausing to pull on his gloves.

  “I am not done with my turn on this earth yet, greenling,” Lawrence said in a huff. “But do not spurn her advice out of hand, is what I say. The Wodesbys and Adrienne’s family, the LeFeys, have been advisors to kings and queens for over half a millennium. To my knowledge, if Charles had taken LeFey's advice, there would never have been a Cromwell. And if our own George had listened to the previous Lord Wodesby, the Colonies would still be under England’s wing.”

  “There were many who said that the Colonies might attempt to fly the coop,” Adam countered skeptically.

  “Twenty years before the fact?” Lawrence asked with a dismissive snort. “Peter predicted when and where the opening shots would be fired, dates down to the hour. Sadly, Farmer George’s attitude mirrored your own. He rejected Lord Wodesby’s advice and you may see where it has got him.”

  “How is it you come to know so much of the Wodesbys?” Adam asked.

  “I have made something of a hobby of the histories of the Wodesbys and LeFeys. The study of their past and those of the families intertwined with theirs has been more than intriguing,” Lawrence said, his expression growing distant. “The Wodesby’s, the LeFeys, the Gwynns, the Morgans, the Macfies, the Peregrines and the Donallys. Almost from the first written chronicles, those names have been inexorably tied with the use of witchcraft and arcane power.”