“Lochinvar!” Persy lunged toward him, all the longing of the last weeks plain on her face, but the fairy lord’s grip on her arm was unbreakable. She stumbled and fell back against him. Lochinvar looked thunderous but he maintained his silence, his eyes locked on her.
“Be still,” the fairy lord said to Persy, holding her tightly against him, then turned to the queen. “I do not have a human overlord—or even an overlady. May I ask why you have come to my clearing and interrupted my dance?”
“Oh, but you do.” The queen’s voice was as lovely and silvery as ever. “Your ancestor swore fealty to mine, the first King William, nearly eight hundred years ago after he was defeated in battle by the King’s men. All the fairy folk of Wessex are my vassals, and I am their liege lady. Miss Allardyce?”
Lorrie stepped forward, and Charles saw her unwrap a bundle of gold cloth to reveal several large scrolls of yellowed parchment. She unrolled one and stepped forward, holding it up for the fairy lord’s inspection. Charles could not see much of it beyond a flash of color from the illuminated heading and the various seals hanging from it by tattered ribbons. The fairy lord stared at it, and a furrow deepened between his brows as his eyes traveled down its length. Finally he looked up.
“Eight hundred years,” he said scornfully. “This treaty is eight hundred years old. How many treaties and broken oaths have happened between our people since then to negate it?”
Lorrie coughed gently and rolled the scroll back up. “If I may, my lord—we have several treaties ratified since then, confirming the first...signed by Henry I, Henry IV, Edward IV, Henry VII—two treaties from him; the Tudors left nothing to chance, did they?—um, Charles II, and George I. That last one, I venture to guess, may have been signed by my lord’s late grandfather.” She fished through the scrolls and unrolled a second, much newer-looking one.
The fairy lord glanced at it. “My great-grandfather,” he snapped.
“I stand corrected,” Lorrie said, with a slight bow. Charles was sure he saw a twinkle in her eye, but he couldn’t be sure from here.
“Do you acknowledge my sovereignty, sir?” the queen asked.
“These would appear to be the seals of my people,” the fairy lord agreed reluctantly. He looked up at the queen. “It has been a long time since our allegiance to you has been remembered, madam. May I ask to what to I owe the honor of this visit tonight?”
The queen nodded to Lorrie who stepped back again, rolling the open treaty and wrapping it and the others once again in their cloak of gold. “It has been a long time,” she agreed. “High time, in fact, for me to remind you of our agreement, and request a small tribute as an affirmation of it.”
A shiver went down Charles’s back. This was it. Would it work?
“A tribute,” the fairy lord repeated slowly. “Very well, madam. What would you ask of me?”
The queen’s chin rose slightly. “I ask for the gift of the human woman whom you hold, my friend and companion, Persephone.”
If the fairy lord’s expression had been stern before, it was now infinitely darker and grimmer…but his voice remained polite and modulated. “Alas, madam, you ask me for the one thing I cannot give you. Is there no other tribute you will take? Persephone is bound to me. The magic tying us together cannot be broken.”
“Nor can a treaty signed in the blood of our ancestors,” the queen replied, equally politely. “Furthermore, she is bound to me as well.” She reached up and touched a brooch at her shoulder, made in the shape of a small dog with a star at the tip of its tail.
“Oh! I’d forgot about that!” Charles exclaimed. Of course! The queen had named Persy and Pen as companions to her secret order of DASH—Damsels At Service to Her Majesty—after Persy had saved her from Sir John Conroy before she became queen. That predated the fairy lord’s binding magic by—well, by only a couple of months, but it still predated it. It made her claim on Persy even stronger than just the request of a tribute—
A cold something seemed to brush by him. He glanced up involuntarily and met the fairy lord’s eyes, now the icy gray of a winter storm.
“So,” the fairy lord murmured. He held Charles’s eyes a moment longer, and Charles knew that he had deduced who was behind this unexpected visit from his forgotten liege lady. A cold smile touched the corners of his mouth. “So I must give up my bride to you, then, madam. But the magic must still be satisfied.” He let go of Persy. She took one cautious step away from him, then another…and then she flew to Lochinvar, who gathered her to him and held her as if he would never release her.
“If I may not keep Persephone,” the fairy lord continued, “I may still keep one of her blood. Come here, my page.”
Chapter Nine
“Oh, no!” Persy cried, unburying her face from Lochinvar’s chest. “No! You can’t keep Charles!”
“Can’t I?” the fairy lord said calmly, but his eyes positively glittered with cold amusement.
Charles gasped. He hadn’t thought of that, either. Was it true? Would the magic be satisfied by his staying in the fairy lands instead of Persy, bound to be the fairy lord’s man forever?
He looked at Persy, safe in Lochinvar’s arms and—well, alive again. These last days she’d been so pale and listless that she’d looked physically ill, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she eventually had just faded away into nothing, pining for Lochinvar, if forced to remain here at the fairy lord’s side. She had a life and a home in the human world...while he was just a schoolboy, without responsibilities or ties and not likely to fret himself into an early grave the way Persy would if she stayed. Mama and Papa would miss him, most likely...but not the way Lochinvar would miss Persy. After all, it wasn’t like he would be dead—he could write them letters sometimes, couldn’t he, and let them know he was all right?
He squared his shoulders, and suddenly felt a lot less like a schoolboy. Once he was been anxious to be thought grown up enough to ride from home to Galiswood by himself. Now he knew what being grown up was really about: letting someone else go instead. But before he could open his mouth and say anything, someone flung their arms around him, half squeezing the breath from his body.
“Then you don’t have to leave!” Margaret exclaimed. “I can keep you!” Her eyes were wide and shining with happiness as she gazed up at him.
Charles returned her glowing, exultant gaze, and the panic that had clutched at his throat eased slightly. Things could be worse: yes, he needed to take Persy’s place and stay behind in the fairy lands. But that meant he wouldn’t have to say good-bye to Margaret.
“Are you sure you want to keep me, even if I can’t show you any squirrels?” he asked her, letting his arms slide up to encircle her in return.
“I’ll take you over a whole forestful of squirrels.” She nestled the top of her head in the hollow of his shoulder, and he felt a surge of protective tenderness wash over him. He looked up and saw the fairy lord watching them with raised eyebrows.
“Very well, sir,” he said, somewhat defiantly. “If I must stay in order to free my sister, then I will stay.”
Margaret lifted her head and sent her brother a stern look. “And you had better be kind to him, too, or I shall be very displeased.”
“Woe betide those who displease my younger sister,” the fairy lord said, and gave her an ironical bow. “But we may need to have some words on this subject. Since when is a page a suitable companion for a high-born fairy lady? I had other plans for you, Margaret.”
She scowled at him. “Well, you’ll just have to forget them, dear brother. I will not let you be...be bossy at me and try to marry me off to one of your friends!”
“No? We shall see about that.” Turning back to the queen, he nodded regally. “I am satisfied with this change, Your Majesty.”
“Well, I’m not!” Persy said indignantly. “You can’t have my little brother, and that’s final. And since when is a viscount’s heir and duke’s grandson not good enough for anyone? I was good enough for you, wasn’
t I?”
She and the fairy lord glowered at each other so darkly that Charles couldn’t help grinning to himself: they probably would have murdered each other if they’d actually married. “Woe betide those who displease my elder sister,” he muttered, but it was nice of Persy to leap to his defense like that, even if she were being somewhat illogical.
“If you don’t want your brother to remain here, you know what the solution is,” the fairy lord said with icy politeness, and held out his hand to her. She looked away, biting her lip.
The queen looked uncertain and glanced beseechingly at Lochinvar, who looked just as uncertain but held Persy more tightly to him.
“No,” said a firm voice. “Charles does not have to stay. I will take his place.”
Lorrie Allardyce had stepped forward. She handed the wrapped treaties to Lochinvar, curtsied respectfully to the queen, then stepped past her and met the fairy lord’s look of surprise with her own defiant nod. “I am Lady Seton’s—Persephone’s—bound handmaiden. That makes me of her blood too. I will take her and Charles’s place.”
“Lorry!” Persy whispered. “You don’t have to do this—we can find another way—”
Lorry’s chin was still high. “But I wish to.”
“And why should I wish to accept you in the place of my bride and my page?” the fairy lord asked with chilly politeness.
“Because I’m a witch too…isn’t that what you wanted in a wife?” Lorry said to him. “A human who is a witch?”
His scowl lessened the smallest bit and he looked at her thoughtfully. “So?”
“Quite so,” she replied crisply. “I expect we could come to an agreement which would satisfy us both. And I would like to come to the fairy lands. I’m tired of my life here. There’s nothing for me to do—but there is in your world. I’ve read and studied about it for years. I want to go there.”
Charles opened his mouth to add his protests to Persy’s, then remembered his conversation with her on the day he’d arrived at Galiswood. They’d talked about her study of fairies and she’d hinted at her restlessness. If she stayed here, there would be plenty for her to learn and study—and a possible position as lady of the fairies. And as for that…he grinned. In a match between the fairy lord and Lorrie Allardyce, he would lay at least even odds on Lorrie more than holding her own.
“Miss Allardyce,” the queen said. “Are you sure?”
For the briefest instant, Lorry hesitated. She looked at Persy and her mouth shook just a little, but she straightened it firmly. “I’m sure, Your Majesty. I’ve been thinking about this ever since we got Charles’s letter.”
“Well.” The queen looked at the fairy lord. “I am satisfied. Are you?”
“No!” Margaret said, and clung more fiercely to Charles. ”I want him to stay here.”
The fairy lord frowned at her. “Nor am I satisfied. But I expect that I must accept this trade.” He bowed to the queen, perhaps not as deeply as the occasion warranted, but she didn’t seem to notice. Instead she had already turned to Persy.
“My dear Persy!” she exclaimed, holding her hands out to her. “You don’t know how happy I am to have been of use to you, after what you did for me! Come, let’s go back to Galiswood and out of this night air—dear Albert hates it if I get sniffly—”
“One moment, Your Majesty.” Lady Northgalis stepped forward and into the space between the fairy lord and the queen.
“Mother, what—” Margaret began. Charles drew in his breath and put a finger to her lips, shaking his head. Poor Lady Northgalis had seemed so defeated when they spoke together that day...but maybe there was a spark yet left inside her. Her saw her glance keep straying to Lochinvar, and he understood where that spark had come from.
“Yes?” the queen said, regarding her with a questioning smile.
“Your Majesty—my lord,” Lady Northgalis said, bowing to each in turn, then facing the queen. “Your Majesty, I claim your protection as a human and a British subject.”
“What?” the fairy lord looked thunderstruck—and furious, which was enough to make the queen draw herself up again and hold out her hand to Lady Northgalis.
“I don’t understand,” she said, but kindly. “Should I know who you are?”
Lady Northgalis laughed softly. “No, ma’am, you don’t. I died when you were just a small child…or rather, was taken by these fairies and a changeling left in my place to die. I was married to this present lord’s father, much as Persephone nearly was. But he is dead now, and there is no magical binding to keep me here. I want to go home and see my son and husband.” She turned and looked at Lochinvar, who started and returned her look.
“No—it can’t be…” he whispered.
“It certainly is!” Charles said. This was almost as good as bringing him and Persy back together.
“No!” snapped the fairy lord. “I absolutely forbid it. You are part of my court.”
Lady Northgalis truly had thrown off her old despairing fearfulness. “No,” she said to him. “I was part of your father’s court. You cannot force me to stay now that he is gone. You have no claim over me.”
“Perhaps not.” He smiled unpleasantly. “But I do over my sister.”
“Oh, I say—” Charles stepped toward him, but to his surprise Lady Northgalis shook her head and laughed. “Only half a claim, step-son. She is half-fairy, but she is also half-human. By the old rules she must be allowed to spend time in both worlds if she chooses, and there is nothing you can do to stop her.”
There were more indignant words bandied between them which the queen finally had to step in and settle, but Charles had stopped listening. Instead he looked down at Margaret, who still clung to him. “So it isn’t good-bye, then,” he whispered.
She shook her head, and a slow smile curved her mouth, bringing out that distracting dimple. “I wasn’t going to let it be, anyway. My brother isn’t the only one who can use a bow to stun a human, you know.”
“I don’t think your brother would be happy to see me in his lands again—or even dancing in his clearing.”
“But there are other clearings, are there not? And besides, my mother promised that if we came to the human world, I would be able to dance at your queen’s court some day.” She tried, unconvincingly, to look bored at the prospect.
Charles tried to imagine Margaret coming out in London society and smiled. She’d set them all on their ears, but he’d better plan on being around to keep an eye on her, just in case she was a little too Margaret. Well, with the expanding railroads, it shouldn’t be too hard to pop down to London from university on occasion, to make sure she didn’t get into too much trouble and to warn off any fine London dandies.
They left the clearing a few minutes later, Persy and Lady Northgalis between the queen and Lochinvar, preceded by a proud-looking Nando who carried a torch to light their way. Charles and Margaret followed a little distance behind them. As they reached the edge of the clearing Charles looked back, and saw the fairy lord still watching them, his face back to its usual inscrutability. Their eyes met; to Charles’s surprise, the fairy lord nodded to him in a gesture of...of what? Acknowledgment? Respect for a worthy opponent? He nodded back, and looked at Lorrie standing beside him. She smiled, then made a shooing gesture at him. And then the figures in the clearing became obscured by trees.
And as they began the walk through the moonlit woods back to Galiswood, Charles patted the book tucked in the belt of his fairy tunic. Well, what do you know? History just might turn out to be useful on occasion, after all.
The End
Epilogue: What happens to the Leland Family?
Persy and Lochinvar’s first child, a son, was born eleven months after her return from the fairy lands. He was, in time, joined in the nursery at Galiswood by a brother and two sisters, all of whom blessed the old age of their grandfather, Lord Northgalis, as did his unexpected remarriage, late in 1842, to his late wife’s cousin, who bore her a remarkable resemblance.
Pe
n and Niall Keating remained in Ireland, with frequent visits between the sisters; they had two daughters and a son.
Charles Leland passed his exams at Eton and in due course went on to Cambridge University, accompanied by his young Romany servant, Ferdinand, who in later years became his private secretary and a noted scholar and recorder of British Romany folklore. He succeeded, after his father’s death, to the title Viscount Atherston, and eventually was created Earl of Atherston by Queen Victoria on being made Her Majesty’s Ambassador and Minister Plenipotentiary to the Fairy Lands, an appointment he held for many years. He and his wife Margaret had four children.
Author’s Note
It gives me great pleasure to say good-bye to the Leland Sisters’ world (at least for now) with this story about Charles Leland, a.k.a. Chuckles. It was a fun story to write, and I hope will give satisfaction to the many readers who’ve contacted me over the years since Bewitching Season came out, asking when Charles would get his own story. This novella is respectfully dedicated to those readers, with my deepest thanks for their enthusiasm and patience.
Now, of course, a few historical notes. I fudged a little over Charles’s poor grades in history at Eton because history per se was not taught there at this time, aside from as it was read via classical Greek and Latin texts. But my inner history geek couldn’t resist the idea when it occurred, so Charles got saddled with a whole stack of fictitious but deadly medieval history texts to read over his hols—that’s slang for summer holiday or vacation. I enjoyed doing some research into Romany culture and in particular language, and was fascinated to discover that it is descended from Sanskrit, as the Romany people originated in India.
I hope you enjoyed reading Charles Bewitched. If you did, please help other readers find the Leland Sisters stories:
Charles Bewitched (Leland Sisters) Page 9