Staff & Crown

by W. R. Gingell

  Since she ceased her majestic glide to turn expectantly to Annabel and Isabella, it was rather obvious that she expected an answer to her statement.

  With a hand in her pocket that was wrapped tightly around a pencil most definitely of magical origin, Annabel very carefully said, “I don’t have anything to declare. Belle?”

  “I have no magical abilities,” said Isabella. “I don’t make spells or work magic.” Her tone was blithe, but Annabel was quite sure she had worded her sentence as carefully as Annabel had worded her own. It wouldn’t surprise her to find that Isabella had also brought in something that wasn’t strictly allowed.

  “Very well, said the Yellow Aunt, and resumed her glide. “The corridors are routinely monitored by magical means after curfew, the doors and windows by the same means, and any infractions will be punished swiftly. It is not presumed—not presumed, my lady—that you will engage in any nefarious practices, but girls have been known to break curfew for any number of reasons. We should prefer to be Absolutely Clear about our rules to discourage any Unfortunate Occurrences.”

  Annabel almost expected the Yellow Aunt to direct her have been known to break curfew at Isabella—Have been known, Miss Farrah! To break curfew—and caught the look brimful of mischief that Isabella threw her.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll be sure to show Annabel exactly how she ought to go on,” Isabella assured the Aunts.

  The Aunts exchanged a vaguely worried look and said together, “Yes, of course. This way, young ladies.”

  It wasn’t until they reached the third floor of the school that the Aunts slowed, and finally stopped outside a door. To Annabel’s surprise, the usually surefooted Isabella’s foot faltered just one more step forward before she stopped behind the Aunts. Her eyes were quite wide and just a bit watchful. Annabel wondered exactly what it was that had surprised her, and looked curiously around the hall. There was nothing there beyond the guardsmen murmuring politely as they passed the group to add Annabel’s luggage to the mountainous pile inside that was Isabella’s luggage.

  Obeying the encouraging gesture that both Aunts gave her, Annabel stepped through the doorway and into their suite. Isabella followed her, a bright, inquisitive look to her face.

  “We will leave you,” said the Lavender Aunt from the doorway, “to unpack your night things. A maid will be along shortly to assist you in your unpacking. Do bear in mind that lunch will be served promptly at noon, and dinner at seven. You may ring for tea and light refreshments at any time.”

  Both the Aunts bowed again, not too deep and not too shallow. Annabel gave the very calculated head bob that Melchior had taught her several years ago, and Isabella made a flourishing curtsey that made the Aunts look uneasy again as they glided away.

  “Thank goodness!” said Isabella, and shut the door behind the guardsmen. She came back into the centre of the room, her eyes very sharp, and gazed around the room. Pensively, she said, “It’s all very odd.”

  “What’s all very odd?” The room looked perfectly normal, if somewhat larger than Annabel had expected at school.

  “They were just a smidgen too late meeting you, did you notice?” Isabella nodded to herself. “Yes, and they walked us to our room.”

  “Is that odd?”

  “Not at all. The least they should do is walk the future queen to her room. That’s perfectly normal.”

  “Then what exactly is it you’re suspicious of?” demanded Annabel, in some exasperation.

  “I don’t know, exactly,” said Isabella darkly. “Just small, irritating things that might not mean anything. But it’s all very odd.”

  4

  “This is all very odd,” said Isabella.

  “You’ve said that,” Annabel muttered. In fact, Isabella had said it about three or four times now, and it was very annoying to be told several times that something was odd without the person expanding on the subject.

  “Four times,” agreed Isabella cheerfully. Annabel didn’t know whether the other girl’s cheerfulness was because she was aware of Annabel’s annoyance, or because she was not. Having seen a little of Isabella, she was inclined to think it was because she did. And Annabel was also inclined to resent that.

  “All right, but why is it all very odd?” she demanded. “As far as I can see, it’s a room! Well, just a suite, anyway.”

  “Exactly. It’s just a suite. No, no, no, this will never do! What were they thinking?”

  “You expected a different suite!” realised Annabel. “Is that why you wanted to room with me?”

  “Dear me, what a suspicious thing you are!” said Isabella. “As a matter of fact, yes; it does happen to be one of the reasons I wanted to room with you. The one I expected is much larger than this—it’s a proper suite, not this little pretend thing. It’s a perfectly lovely suite with a perfectly lovely view, and a perfectly lovely little balcony simply made for sneaking out of the school.”

  “That’s probably why they didn’t give it to us,” remarked Annabel. Anyone with brains would have taken Isabella’s measure very early in the piece and made an effort to keep her in check.

  Isabella gurgled with laughter. “That’s something to think about! Goodness, could the Awesome Aunts be aware of the full extent of my activities? No, I’m sure they’re not! There must be another reason, and it’s—”

  “—all very odd,” agreed Annabel gloomily. “But what can we do about it, anyway? Nothing.”

  “That’s what people always say, and they’re almost always wrong.”

  That, Annabel agreed with. She wasn’t sure that she would consider the size of a suite something worth fighting for, however.

  “You’re probably thinking,” Isabella said accurately, “that this is something so small as to not be worth bothering about.”

  “Actually,” said Annabel, annoyed to be caught in the very thought, “I was wondering when we’re going to start unpacking our things.”

  Isabella shot her a keen, grey-eyed look. “Were you?”

  “Yes,” Annabel said firmly. “Look, it’s no use fussing about whether it’s the right suite or not—it’s the one we’ve got. You’ll just have to manage to sneak out another way.”

  Isabella sighed. “Oh, well; I suppose it’s good practise, after all!”

  “I don’t think your little Papa can be as good of an ambassador as all that if you’ve got to practise sneaking about.”

  “My little Papa,” said Isabella, quite stiffly, “is a wonderful ambassador! And all I can say is that if you fancy sneaking about to be of little use—well, no, I won’t say it. I’ve already been rude enough today and it’s probably because I haven’t had a cup of tea yet.”

  “I want a cup of tea!” instantly said Annabel. “All right, I’m sorry. I was being rude first.”

  “Do you know,” said Isabella unexpectedly, “I’ve got the feeling we’re going to be very good friends. We might as well go and get ourselves a mediocre cup of tea from the afternoon parlour—we won’t get any decent stuff in our room until I can smuggle in a few things. Anyway, we should go to the nurse and get your hand seen to properly; the maids will take care of the unpacking for us. They like sneaking a look at our things, anyway.”

  Annabel wasn’t so sure, but she cautiously said, “All right,” and followed Isabella down the hall, wondering exactly what Isabella felt she needed to smuggle into their room other than the obvious tea. Her musings on the subject were cut short by a rising babble that met them in the next passage; a shifting crowd of mingled uniformed and ununiformed Trenthams girls were milling in the passage, cooing and squealing and generally blocking the way forward.

  Annabel sighed and concentrated on trying not to step on any of the older girls’ longer skirts, but Isabella stopped altogether.

  “Good heavens,” she said, in a thoughtful voice. Since she had used just that tone and that expression when their carriage was held up, Annabel looked up in some dismay.

  The first thing she saw beyond the throng of sch
oolgirls was a pair of hazel eyes glinting above a mouth that was smiling, to her eyes, in a decidedly sarcastic manner.

  It was Melchior. What was Melchior doing at Trenthams? Why, if it came to that, was Melchior surrounded by a group of giggling girls who were obviously vying for his attention?

  “Ladies!” fluted a voice. “Ladies, really! Please comport yourselves in a…ahem…seemly fashion!”

  “Good heavens!” said Isabella’s voice again, somewhere above Annabel’s ear. “I’m afraid Miss Cornett will be fighting a losing battle with this lot. How lovely! This week keeps getting more and more enjoyable!”

  Annabel would have asked if Isabella was referring to the footpads as part of that enjoyment, but since she was more than slightly certain Isabella was, she merely said, “That must be why he said he wouldn’t bring anything if I forgot it.”

  “This is all very interesting,” Isabella said.

  Annabel looked up at her and found that Isabella wasn’t looking at her. Instead, she was looking at Melchior, her eyes very narrow and sparkling.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to moon over him as well?” she said crossly. Isabella might be occasionally irritating, but she hadn’t seemed like the sort of girl to make a fool of herself over Melchior. Annabel had had her fill of that type of girl in the last few months of parties with Melchior.

  “No,” said Isabella slowly, looking down at Annabel and then back at Melchior. “I rather think not. Melchior and I are old friends, that’s all.”

  Unreasonably more cheerful, Annabel turned her eyes back on Melchior and found that he was still watching her, one eyebrow raised. She made a face at him and said to Isabella, “Aren’t we going to get a cup of tea?”

  Isabella blinked, then her teeth sparkled in a small, mischievous grin. “Really? I approve, I really do! You’ll have to excuse me while I use my elbows to make a path for us—what a shame I don’t have my parasol! Even a hairpin would do at a pinch.”

  Still, Annabel didn’t notice any lack of efficacy to Isabella’s elbows, and they were soon well into the crush. It was more difficult to move right where Melchior was, but Annabel might still have at least given a nod or a smile in passing, if he hadn’t quite deliberately winked at her as they passed shoulder to shoulder. She scowled at him instead, which reaction seemed to delight him, because his hazel eyes danced at her above the heads of the other girls.

  “Oh, just you wait!” she muttered, pinching the fabric at Isabella’s elbow just a little too tightly.

  “Nan,” Isabella said plaintively, “I really do understand the urge to destroy, but must you destroy this dress? It’s one of my favourites and I have nothing to replace it at this moment.”

  “Oh, sorry,” said Annabel. She added, with some asperity, “I know you said that people are people wherever you go, and that you meet all the same people every place you go, but I didn’t know you meant it literally!”

  “Goodness, I had nothing to do with this! I’m just as surprised as you are! Well, maybe not quite so surprised—it was quite evident that he was up to something.”

  “Yes,” Annabel agreed darkly. “I didn’t expect this, though! What do you suppose he’s doing here?”

  “I think we can assume that something has happened,” Isabella said seriously. “Something Melchior hasn’t told you about.”

  “Rude!” said Annabel. “If it concerns me, I ought to know!”

  “Didn’t you say Luck came to see Melchior before you left?”

  “Yes, and they were behaving suspiciously.” Annabel thought about that and added, “More suspiciously. Perhaps there have been threats.”

  “Perhaps. And we can’t forget that someone knew your route and tried to attack us on the way here. They’re bound to be connected. Oh! Raoul! Quick! We’d better go after him!”

  “What?” Annabel dashed after Isabella. “Why are we in such a hurry? Won’t the Guardsmen stay the night?”

  “No,” Isabella tossed over her shoulder. “Raoul knows me! Oh, what a sneak! He only answered the questions we asked!”

  “People usually only answer the questions you ask,” said Annabel, who was very familiar with the concept of very carefully answering questions and avoiding the inception of others. Blackfoot—no, Melchior, had been very good at that. “I should have known to ask more questions.”

  “We have been very remiss, Nan,” said Isabella, prodding at a panel in the hallway. “We didn’t ask questions we should have asked—with all the information we had, too!”

  “Shouldn’t we be going down to the stables?” suggested Annabel.

  “Oh! There it is!” Isabella said triumphantly. Something gave a faint click, and a portion of the wall swung inwards. “No, we’re not allowed to travel the hall that leads to the stables. There are Men there, or so Miss Cornett says. I’m not sure it’s not just a rumour.”

  “If we’re not going to the stables—”

  “No, no; we are going to the stables,” Isabella assured her, pulling her into the wall. “We’re simply taking another route. Going by the main way has the unfortunate result of getting one caught, and it’s a little too early in the term to be getting caught by the staff just yet.”

  Annabel watched the panel close again behind them and said, “Do they know the school is riddled with passageways?”

  “Of course!” Isabella said. “Unfortunately—most unfortunately—they don’t know where the passageways are. It’s a running battle between the school officials and the students as to which ones are discovered and which ones are still safe.”

  “It’s more likely to be a battle between the school officials and you,” Annabel muttered. “I haven’t seen a single other girl creeping about.”

  “If she’s good, you shouldn’t,” pointed out Isabella. “Well, perhaps I’ve had more than my share of close calls, but I tend to think of it as part of the education system here. This way, Nan. Be careful of the beams, they’re rather low.”

  “So that’s what it is,” Annabel said, shivering in the darkness. Inside the walls of Trenthams Academy for Young Ladies wasn’t so very different from the wandering, shifting, deadly maze that had been the castle three years ago. She hadn’t expected to feel quite so claustrophobic. “You’re making sure you take full advantage of all the learning opportunities the school offers.”

  “Exactly so,” said Isabella.

  “Belle?”

  “Right through here.”

  “Are we nearly out?”

  There was a flash of pale skin as Isabella’s head turned to look at her and then back to the front. “Very nearly. Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” said Annabel. “But I’d like to be out soon.”

  “Through here, and duck—ow! Who put that there?”

  “Teachers, probably,” Annabel said, darting out into the open without injury. They were across from the stables, in the carriageway and well shielded from the windows of the school above by the carriageway roof. “All right, Belle?”

  “It’ll only bruise,” Isabella said, feeling the spot carefully. “I wonder if the teachers have found this one? That’s new since last I was here. Oh, look! We’re in luck!”

  Annabel, who had already seen Guardsman Raoul walk around the corner and stop in dismay, started forward again.

  Raoul said, “You’re not supposed to—” and stopped abruptly, presumably because he remembered he was talking to the future monarch as well as his friend.

  “Actually,” said Annabel, who had not read the rules the Aunts gave her—nor listened to Isabella—in vain, “we’re allowed to be in the stables. We’re just not allowed to enter the stables from the main passage. The rules are very specific.”

  “Of course they are,” Raoul said, throwing a look of some dislike at Isabella. “And where exactly did you happen upon a copy of Trenthams rules and regulations this early in the term, if I may ask, your highness?”

  “It’s very important to know the rules,” Annabel said seriously.

&
nbsp; “So important!” said Isabella. “One needs to know how one can wriggle around them if need be.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Annabel. “And it was the Aunts who gave it to me. Also, we aren’t here to discuss the rules with you—no matter how curious we are about how you know that particular rule so well.”

  Raoul went faintly pink, and Isabella said in well-feigned outrage, “Raoul! Well, I never!”

  “You never!” spluttered Raoul. “You never? You’re probably the only one in the school who sneaks in and out enough to know every passageway in the place!”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Isabella promised, her eyes bright and dancing. “Nan’s right. We aren’t here to talk about how very well you seem to know the rules at Trenthams. We want to know why you didn’t tell us that Melchior was coming here.”

  “You didn’t ask about it, and we weren’t supposed to tell,” Raoul said, with some attempt at regaining his dignity.

  “Did you speak with Melchior before you accompanied us?” asked Annabel.

  “We were told to get our final orders from him,” said Raoul, with the air of one who has given up the attempt at secrecy in disgust. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that, Belle, since you always know everything!”

  “When did you come to the manor?”

  “I didn’t go to the manor,” Raoul said, with a more professional air. “I was told to meet Melchior in the village. We met a day or two before you were due to leave, at the posting stop.”

  “That settles it!” said Annabel, to Isabella. “It does have something to do with Luck!”

  Raoul looked alarmed. “Why would it have anything to do with the Enchanter? Can’t Melchior be here just to make sure you’re taken care of?”

  “Why would you answer Nan with a question?” instantly asked Isabella.

  “Two,” Annabel reminded her. “It’s suspicious.”

  “Very suspicious,” agreed Isabella. “Raoul, what do you know about Luck and Melchior’s plotting?”