Crown Phoenix: Night Watchman Express

by Alison DeLuca

Chapter 10

  The Window Seat

  iriam, it’s time to put your journal away and start your geometry lesson.” Mana selected three volumes from the bookcase and looked out the window.

  Miriam looked up with a start. “Is it time already?” As she flipped back through what she had written, she found she had filled more than five pages. “Mana,” she complained, “I’m right in the middle of writing a story! If I stop now, I’ll forget what happens!”

  “Well, tell me what your story is about,” Mana said.

  “It’s about a princess whose father dies, and she’s walled up in a tower made of ice!” Miriam said, looking over her journal at Mana to see the effect of this thrilling statement.

  “An orphaned princess, you say? Go on, why is she walled up in ice?”

  “Her wicked uncle has put her there,” Miriam continued. “There’s no door to the tower, so each day his talking greyhound, must come and scratch through the ice so it can bring her dinner to the princess.”

  “A talking greyhound,” Mana repeated, listening with full attention.

  “But here’s the important bit,” Miriam said. “The princess knows a secret that will save her kingdom from doom, and that’s why her uncle keeps her imprisoned – he wants to take over her kingdom, you see, and he knows that if she gets free, she will foil his evil plot.”

  “Sounds like a most exciting tale,” Mana responded. “You may write for ten more minutes, and you will finish it after lessons today.”

  “Oh, but I must finish it now! Mana, can’t I skip math for today? Please,” Miriam begged.

  “Nine and one half minutes,” Mana said decisively, looking at her watch.

  Miriam gave it up and quickly turned the page. She picked up her pen.

  Lessons seemed to last forever that day. Miriam kept thinking of things that she wanted to add to her story. There was the description of the way the moonlight would reflect off the frozen pillars in the tower, and a passage about a scepter made of silver and crystal. Once found, the scepter would help the princess defeat her uncle.

  She hadn’t seen Simon or Neil for days; neither had she caught a glimpse of Uncle Virgil or Aunt Theodosia. After that first meeting, the boy was hustled away from Miriam whenever there was a chance of a meeting. He dined in state with his parents in the long dining room, ‘so he would get used to society,’ Aunt Theodosia said. Miriam, on the other hand, continued to spend most of her time with Mana, having supper much more comfortably in the schoolroom and learning her lessons.

  After Latin, when luncheon was brought up (soft-boiled eggs and toast) Miriam begged for a break so she could write some more. “Certainly not,” Mana said. “You’ll have yolk all over your copybook, not to mention you will spill it on the fresh pinafore I ironed today.”

  Miriam sulked for a bit and ate as quickly as she could, hoping to get back to lessons so she could finish sooner. “And do not swallow your food without chewing,” Mana continued. “Don’t saw the top of your egg with a knife; it’s vulgar. Use your egg spoon.”

  After lunch, it was time for botany. Grumbling, Miriam fetched her drawing book and her hat. However, when they stepped outside, the sky that had threatened rain all day rumbled and began to throw down rain.

  “Goodness!” Mana said. “No botany today. Wait, Miriam, don’t dash off like that, you still have to learn your lines.”

  “Balderdash,” Miriam said under her breath.

  “And don’t mutter,” Mana said. “Give me that, and I’ll hang it up.” Taking Miriam’s coat, Mana opened the cloakroom, a funny little chamber under the stairs that smelled of deckchairs.

  “Do I have to learn a long poem?” Miriam stumped upstairs beside Mana’s graceful stride.

  “It’s rather long, yes,” Mana replied. “But you’ll have it by heart shortly,” she continued and cut off Miriam’s protests. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. And when you’re finished, you may go off on your own for a bit. I have some tasks to do myself.”

  Indeed, the poem was rather long, but it was about a strange country with icy caverns and wailing maidens. Miriam slumped in front of the book, but when she began reading, she sat forward, her lips moving as she said the lines to herself. She didn’t notice when Mana closed the door, sat down at the table, and began to read her own book.

  “I think I’m ready now, Mana,” Miriam said.

  “Very well.” Mana put a long ribbon in her volume and closed it. She listened while Miriam said her lines, nodding with approval and prompting her once or twice.

  “That was rather well done,” she said at the end. “If you like, you may work on your story for a bit.”

  “May I really?” Miriam grinned up at her governess. “May I take my copybook away with me?”

  Mana looked at her over her spectacles for a moment. “Where, exactly, do you want to go?” she asked.

  “Nowhere that will bother anyone,” Miriam said, meeting Mana’s gaze steadily. “Honest, it’s not in my room – you know, Simon’s new room – or anything like that.”

  Mana looked at her in silence for a moment longer. She answered, “Very well.”

  Simon looked at a book in the library, sighed, and put it back. He picked out another one but it put it back as well, and he realized that he was bored. Neil was writing to his parents and his sisters, and the rain fell steadily outside, putting a stop to any plans to go anywhere.

  He might as well do some prep for school. The thought was appalling, but at least it would make him feel virtuous, and it would be something to do that would keep him out of his mother’s way for a while. He went up to his room and picked up a few of his schoolbooks.

  Out in the hall, he heard his mother’s voice as she called for him. As silently as he could, he scuttled down the hallway before she could see him. He chose one of the closed doors in the passage and slipped inside what looked like a guest bedroom. White sheets were tied over the furniture, and the long, thick curtains that hung in front of the windows cast the room into semi-darkness.

  “Simon! Are you there? I want you to meet the vicar!” his mother called again. He crept to one of the windows and pulled back the curtain to reveal a low, cushioned window seat. Much to his surprise and displeasure, Miriam already sat there. The girl had a book on her lap and a pencil on one hand.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Shh!” He climbed onto the seat and drew the curtains closed behind him. A second later, they could hear the door as it opened. “Simon?” Aunt Theodosia trilled. He raised his finger to his lips and they both froze, and after a moment the door was closed again.

  Simon and Miriam both let their breaths out at the same moment. “That was a near thing,” he whispered.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed again. “This is my spot.”

  “Well, what are you doing?’ he retorted, looking at her journal.

  She firmly put the book behind her back and stared at him. “Nothing. Don’t you have a house party coming, or a trip to the Bishop’s Well, or a ball to go to?”

  “Tea with the vicar,” he answered glumly. “Look, I won’t bother you. I just want to do some of my prep without my mother looking over my shoulder.”

  Miriam looked at him for a moment, and t she couldn’t help giggling. He tried to keep a straight face, but when a loud snort escaped her, he began to laugh as well. “I’d have to get dressed for tea,” he added, gasping, “in my velvet suit.”

  “I say!” she said. “Do you have a straw boater to go with that?”

  “Get on out of it,” he snarled, pretending to lunge at her. “If you ever see me in a straw boater, you just take that book there, and throw it as hard as you can at my head.”

  “Right-ho.” Miriam wriggled on the seat cushion. “Shift over, can’t you? You’re taking up too much room.”

  “Sorry.” He moved his books. There was a pause. “No, come on, what are you doing?” he asked again.

  She hesitated, an
d asked, “Promise not to laugh?”

  “Promise.” He leaned forward.

  “I’m writing a story.”

  “Are you really?” he said, impressed. “What’s it about?”

  Miriam explained about the princess in the tower made of ice and the wicked uncle.

  “Gosh,” he said. “Imaginative, aren’t you? I could never make up things like that. How will you get her out of the tower?”

  “I was wondering about that,” Miriam admitted. “I think she’ll have to make friends with the greyhound.”

  “And what’s the secret that she holds?”

  “Mmm, not sure about that either.”

  “Maybe her kingdom is being frozen as well by the uncle,” Simon suggested.

  “Of course! She could use her crystal scepter to melt the ice and save everyone.”

  “What crystal scepter?”

  “Just something she found in a secret hiding place before she was walled up. Her godmother gave it to her when she was a baby, and her father hid it before he was killed…”

  “…By the uncle, naturally. So she finds it, following the clues her father left her, and later she is captured by the forces of evil!” Simon warmed to the task as he spoke.

  “Yes, exactly!” Miriam sat upright and grabbed her journal. “Let me just write that down.” She took her pencil, which had grown rather blunt, and wrote furiously. Simon watched before he picked up one of his own books and opened it; he was soon absorbed in his own work.

  Miriam looked up, and asked, “How about you? What are you reading?”

  “Algebraic theory.”

  “Sounds deadly.”

  “You’ve got that right,” he said with feeling. “Neil seems to understand it all though.” He caught sight of her pencil. “Look at that splinter you’re writing with! Give it to me, and I’ll sharpen it.”

  “It is a bit stubby,” Miriam admitted, handing it over. He seized it, took out a pocketknife, and began to sharpen the point. “There, that’ll do!” she added, reaching for her pencil as the point grew sharper.

  He held it back over his shoulder. “No, wait!” he insisted.

  “I don’t like it too sharp! Hand it over!” She reached for the pencil, but he turned away and continued to sharpen the point, which promptly broke under the pressure.

  “There, now you see,” she said. “You can’t even use a penknife!”

  His eyes narrowed, and shutting the knife with a flick, he threw the pencil back at her. “Here you are,” he said, sitting up, “if you want it so badly.”

  “But there’s no point left at all now!” Miriam exclaimed. “How can I finish my story?”

  “You’re the one who grabbed at it,” he said. “It would have been fine if you had just let me sharpen it.”

  “It would have been fine,” she argued, “if you had handed it back to me when I told you to.”

  “Don’t be silly.” He stuffed his books back in his bag. “I should have known better than to try and talk to a little idiot.”

  “I was here first!” she cried. “You’re the one who barged in on me, you – interfering oaf!”

  “This is the stupidest argument I have ever had!” he shouted.

  The door opened, and instantly they were both quiet. Footsteps came forward quickly, and the curtains were swept back by a determined hand. They both looked up at Theodosia, whose mouth opened in shock.

  “What on earth is going on here?” she demanded. Her face darkened in nasty contrast with the liver-colored satin she wore. “Simon! Why are you talking to that girl? Get out of there at once!” She hauled Simon to his feet with one hand. “Come with me. And you,” she added to Miriam, “you are – you are–!” Words appeared to fail her.

  Mana appeared at the doorway. “I will take care of Miriam, madam,” she said.

  “See that you do!” Theodosia snapped. She pulled Simon out of the room. He looked back at Miriam and made a hideous face at her, and she thrust her tongue out at him. Unfortunately, he was dragged away before he could see it.

  Mana looked at Miriam without out speaking. Finally, the girl crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, “Sorry.”

  “What was that all about?” Mana asked.

  “He sharpened my pencil too much,” Miriam explained, holding the offending object up. “See? I couldn’t write with it anymore.”

  “All that shouting was about a pencil?” Mana folded her arms. “Fifty lines for you tonight. Thirty for pulling a face like a little guttersnipe, and twenty for arguing over something ridiculous.”

  “It wasn’t ridiculous!” Miriam bounded up from her seat. “I won’t do lines! I was in the right!”

  “Try this on for size,” Mana said firmly. “If Mrs. Marchpane catches you acting like that again, it would be a good excuse for her to let me go and to hire another governess. You have a good imagination; just picture the teacher that your Aunt Theodosia would hire for you.”

  “But you could perform that mind control thing,” Miriam argued. “You know… that mesmerizing trick that you pulled before.”

  “Yes, and exhaust myself for no reason, except your own obstinate nature. No fear.”

  Instantly, Miriam ran to her and clasped her arms around Mana’s waist. “I’m sorry,” she snuffled. “I’ll do the lines, and I won’t pull faces at Aunt Theodosia anymore.”

  Mana handed her a hankie. “Here. Blow your nose - and again,” she added, after Miriam gave a feeble sniff. There was a thundering blow into the handkerchief.

  Virgil knitted his brows and bent over the neat rows of figures in the most recent account book. He had added them up at least five times already, but he erased his totals and started to tot them up again. Even though he had already cut costs to the bone as much as possible, he wouldn’t be able to run his new project for more than six months. And he still hadn’t found the Device that he needed to keep the business going. He knew it had to be somewhere in the house. Where on earth could Pearson have hidden it?

  Worriedly, he glanced at the growing pile of bills by his elbow, sent in by Theodosia for hats, cloaks and various dresses and suits. It was ridiculous. Here he was on the brink of doubling the company’s profits, at least, and he couldn’t afford to make the investment needed with the monies available to him. Pearson had been a bloody millionaire, and yet most of that cash was untouchable, tied up in trusts for his daughter.

  The man had made sure of that, and now Virgil was going to have to let his glorious, moneymaking project die, at great personal cost, since he had sunk most of his own considerable income into it as well.

  It was unthinkable! He straightened his shoulders and added up the numbers again.

  The door to the study opened and Theodosia entered, wearing the liver-colored satin that she had donned for tea with the vicar. “That girl is outside of enough,” she stated without preamble. “I found Simon brawling with her in a room upstairs! They were in the window seat together! It’s all her influence of course. She is the one who has corrupted Simon. And why do you look so worried?”

  “None of your concern,” He looked sourly at the liver-colored frock, which must have put him back quite a touch.  “Just can’t see how we can get the project going with the money left to my disposal.”

  “Nonsense,” Theodosia said, approaching the desk. “Surely you can find a way to skim off the current profits? Medicinals are going to be the thing of the future, and here we are, sitting on a virtual gold mine! Not to mention the Device.”

  “I have been considering the profits,” Virgil said stiffly. “Even if I take more than I dare from the company’s funds, I can’t run the project for longer than half a year without alerting the Board to our concerns.”

  “And we don’t want them involved,” Theodosia said, frowning. “They’d hardly understand the delicate nature of our Concern. But, really! Pearson was an extremely rich man. He created the company with next to nothing and has been reaping profits with no real outlay ever since. Thanks t
o that Device, his shipping costs were practically nil. Can’t we use his personal money?”

  “It is all tied up in trust,” Virgil said.

  “For that girl!” Theodosia slapped one thin hand on the desk. “She has been nothing but a thorn in our sides since we arrived. Is there no way we can divert that income without those papers? What if she were to get sick –”

  “It would all go to a society for feeding stray animals in that instance,” Virgil said. “Pearson’s attorney, Fortescue, says the will is quite clear on that point. We mustn’t think about that.”

  “But is there no way we can control it?” Theodosia asked. “The situation is just too ridiculous! Once we start getting the profit from the new concern, we can replace what we took out of the girl’s trust with no one being the wiser.”

  “Do you think that I haven’t been over this a thousand times? No, there’s no way around it. I’m going to have to conclude the project and withdraw the outlays of cash, with very heavy penalties.”

  “Ridiculous! No, we can’t lose our own money; it’s taking bread out of our own mouths! Not to mention Simon’s inheritance.”

  Virgil raised his head suddenly and opened his mouth.

  “Well, what is it?” she asked irritably. “Don’t gape at me like a fish!”

  “Simon,” he repeated slowly.

  “Well, what about him?”

  Virgil drew close and gazed at her earnestly. “Just listen to me for a minute, Theodosia,” he said. He began to explain what he had in mind.

  Nelly, walking past the room that moment with a duster in her hand, heard Mrs. Marchpane shriek, “Are you out of your mind, Virgil? Absolutely not!”

  Virgil repeated, “It is the only way. It would only be for a while! After things were all tidied up, she could, you know, be taken care of, and we wouldn’t have to worry about the stray cats getting the money.”

  “Ridiculous!”

  “We are talking about millions of pounds.” Virgil leaned closer to her and murmured in her ear, “You could order a carriage to match every dress in your wardrobe, not to mention the profits we’ll have in the meantime.”

  She stared ahead stonily, breathing through tightened nostrils. Finally she turned to him and asked, “You think it is the only way we can gain the money?”

  “I am certain of it.”

  She sighed. At length, she nodded slightly.

  He leaned back in the chair, a satisfied smile spreading across his features. “I’ll start the process tomorrow,” he said, “just as soon as I see Fortescue. Now, hand me that bottle of port, would you, my dear?”