Magic in the Stars

by Patricia Rice

  Theo recognized the mayor and squire huddled at a table with other men whose faces were familiar, but he hadn’t bothered learning their official capacity. He supposed they might be merchants. Since they didn’t sell telescope parts, Theo hadn’t had much reason to call on them.

  He stepped up to the bar to order ale and felt silence fall around him. Even he wasn’t dense enough not to notice.

  Sipping his ale, he raised his eyebrows at the innkeeper respectfully keeping his distance while polishing his mugs. “Am I wearing a monkey on my back?”

  The innkeeper shrugged. “The vicar and squire’s wives called on yours today.”

  Theo tried to imagine how that might have gone but couldn’t. Human nature simply wasn’t predictable. “I assume Aster didn’t poison anyone.”

  “No, she told them the rains were part of a pattern of disaster, or something of the sort, and that the stars say they won’t clear until September.” The innkeeper kept his voice low, glancing at the table of muttering men in the corner.

  It was Theo’s turn to shrug. “The rain has been pretty disastrous. We’ve lost a lot of crops already.”

  “The squire’s lost more. He didn’t install the drainage you did, as I understand it. Same as with the others.”

  “And this is my fault?” Theo asked, suffering an uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach.

  “There’s some said your mother was a witch. With your lady wife prophesying disaster until September, they’re wondering if you married one too, and if she’s the reason your fields are faring better.”

  Theo wondered if there was enough ale in all the kingdom to drown superstitious ninnyhammers. Deciding there wasn’t, he slammed down his mug and stalked out. He simply didn’t have what it took to deal with muttonheads.

  He had a beautiful wife to go home to . . . and there wasn’t a damned thing witchy about her.

  Most of the time. He winced, remembering her painfully accurate predictions. If she was right about the rain, would the villagers decide to burn the witch—and the Hall with it?

  Thirty

  Aster wrapped her shawl against the evening breeze on the roof and anxiously watched Theo adjust his telescope. The sky had cleared again, as if just for them, and a million stars twinkled overhead. She could not imagine how he could find a planet, much less count the moons surrounding one, in that enormous ocean of beauty. She simply prayed that he could achieve what he sought. He deserved this opportunity.

  His lanky frame stiffened, and he groped for his notebook. Aster handed it over with his pencil, her anticipation elevating a notch. He scribbled hastily and handed the items back to her so he could adjust the glass again.

  She clutched the notebook at his grunt of excitement. She wanted to ask questions but didn’t dare disturb his concentration.

  Theo whistled in excitement. “It’s there,” he whispered. “In the outer orbit, as I expected—the seventh moon. Perfect, absolutely perfect. I wish there were a way to record this image. I’ll not see it so perfectly again.” He held out his hand for the notebook.

  “Seven moons,” Aster repeated in awe. “I cannot imagine such a thing. If there were people living on Saturn, can you picture what a sight that would be?”

  “People cannot live on rock with only gas to breathe, but one must wonder what’s on the moons. Herschel will be thrilled. This means the Society could gain royal recognition. We’ll be the Royal Astronomical Society.”

  He turned and caught Aster up in a hug. “I did it! I proved my scope is strong enough to see farther than any other! We’ll have orders pouring in once I introduce my paper to the Society.”

  She covered his bristled jaw with kisses. “Don’t go finding any more planets until I figure out Uranus, please.”

  “Then hurry, because I’m pretty certain I can find another once I study the numbers.” He swung her around exuberantly. “It’s miraculous having someone to share this with. If we weren’t already married, I’d ask you again.”

  Aster laughed, thrilled more than she could express, but still wary of calamity—especially calamity she might not predict since her charts were now in disarray. “Remember that when I do something that upsets your plans.”

  “Telling Herschel your philosophy ought to do that,” he said, but his disgruntlement was buried beneath his desire to return to his scope.

  He wasn’t reneging on his promise! She wrapped her arms around him. “I will be very mathematical, I promise.”

  He kissed her, then set her down to check his scope again. “He’s more inclined to scientific persuasion than the village, I suppose. You’ve almost convinced the village that you’re a witch, and that Iveston is benefitting from your magic. If only you could wave an enchanted wand and make Duncan see again, I’d sacrifice cows for you.”

  Knowing his opinion of cows, she laughed—and hid her concern. Villagers generally did not see witches as benefactors. Her family had suffered for generations from that kind of prejudice, but this was an enlightened age. She hoped. “I’m not fond of cows, but hiring gardeners for the courtyard might keep me happy.”

  “A gardener, it is.” Apparently satisfied that he had all his calculations properly recorded, he picked up the lantern. “You are a distraction, my lady. I should take this opportunity to search beyond Uranus, but I can think only of celebrating in your bed.”

  “I’m sure that urge will melt away after a week or two,” she scoffed. “And then I’ll spend my evenings updating my charts for the discoveries you’re making alone.”

  “I’ll fortify my office up here and provide a better bed. We’ll hide here together.” He helped her down the hatch. “Or once I’m wealthy enough to build an observatory, I’ll install a hidden bedchamber where no one will ever find us.”

  “A bedchamber with a nursery,” she said dryly as they traversed the stairs. “One, of necessity, leads to the other.”

  “Start training those nursemaids, then. There’s no reason to waste these rooms.” He gestured at the empty corridor they’d reached.

  Aster let the idea of half a dozen children brighten her outlook, refusing to believe her chart would endanger future generations. She could be carrying Theo’s child even now, and her smile widened. “You will hide when these rooms are filled with wailing infants,” she predicted, taking his hand and swinging it.

  “I have no idea what I’ll do,” he admitted. “I’m content having you all to myself. But if having children makes you happy, then I’ll be happy with that too. I am supremely easy.”

  Aster giggled. “No, you’re not, except when you’re anticipating bedplay. But luckily, I wouldn’t want a simple man.”

  William met them at the next landing. A big man with a square face that was slow to smile or frown, he appeared close to scowling now.

  “Duncan said I was to leave you be, but he’s not been out listening the way we have. I think there’s trouble afloat, and the dogs are restless.”

  Aster clasped Theo’s hand tighter. Here it was, the misfortune she always anticipated. “I hate this,” she muttered. “Everyone was just here dancing and having a good time. Why would they cause trouble now?”

  “Not the same people, dear heart,” Theo murmured. “It’s an outside faction rousing the rabble. Go on to bed. William and I will take the dogs out.”

  She couldn’t ride with them. Scowling, she released his hand. “I want riding lessons.”

  Theo pressed a kiss to her head. “I’d rather think of you waiting for me in bed. We don’t need a warrior queen.”

  “I could carry a torch and shout spells at them,” she said disagreeably. “Go on. I’ll have the twins watch the telescopes and tell me what’s happening.”

  Theo and William hurried off, leaving Aster to her uneasiness. She found Hugh and Hartley already in the salon, arguing over who got the more powerful glass.

  “Hugh, take one of the telescopes to your father’s room and tell him Theo is out looking for trouble. Station a footman nearby to run
messages in case the marquess wishes to communicate with anyone.” Others might fear Ashford’s growls, but he needed Aster too much to throw her out for audacity. Hugh could blame her for this interference, and Ashford could do naught but roar, which he would be doing anyway.

  Wanting to believe her charts were wrong, knowing they were not, she could only pray the evening would bring no more than burned straw and sheds as before. But forewarned was forearmed . . . Danger might not be averted, but it could be diminished with planning.

  Aster gestured at the second twin as Hugh ran off to annoy his father. “Hartley, if you would be so good as to man the second glass and keep me informed, I’ll read your favorite story aloud while we wait.”

  “Robin Hood!” the boy shouted in glee. “Do you know where I should look?”

  Aster dug through the stacks of books littering shelves and corners. “William and Theo will be riding out with the dogs. Follow them. I should have told Hugh to look all over, in case they’re heading in the wrong direction.”

  She simply could not turn off her anxiety. How could she guard the Hall’s inhabitants? If Saturn’s alignment was perfect for Theo’s moons, it was all in perfect opposition to Mars as well. How had she not understood until now that real stars and her charts were one and the same? Tonight could be the night her chart predicted. She could not think straight for fear.

  “Our father’s chamber has more windows. Hugh will look out all of them. Do you think Papa will ever get his sight back?” Hartley adjusted the scope, pretending nonchalance.

  “When I have time, I’ll consult his chart and see if there are any major changes in his health sector.” Would Uranus change what she saw in Ashford’s future? She itched to work out this more pleasant possibility. “That’s all I can do. I’m no physician.” She wished she was. It would be nice to do more than order people about and fret.

  “Maybe we should go to church and pray?” he suggested tentatively.

  “I think that is a most excellent suggestion. Let’s see how many of your uncles we can take with us on Sunday. Your mother must be very proud of you.” Finding the book, Aster settled into a chair beneath one of the gas sconces rather than pace restlessly.

  It had been so much easier predicting doom and riding away to leave someone else to deal with it. Right this minute, she despised her gift.

  “Mama tells us we must get good marks in school and impress Papa so we always have a home. She likes traveling to different theaters and doesn’t much like staying in one place.”

  “You’ll always have a home here,” Aster assured him, hoping she wasn’t lying. What would happen if the Hall burned down? “But good marks will give you more opportunity in the future, so they’re an excellent idea too.”

  Hartley shot her a distinctly Ives scowl. “They can’t teach me about dogs at school.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at his boyish intent. All Ives had their peculiar interests. “What are they doing out there, can you tell?”

  “The hounds are leading them across the north pasture. I think I see torches near the London road.”

  “And where are the thresher machines?” Aster chewed her fingernail and stared blankly at the first page of the book.

  “They used to be in a barn by the north road, but Theo had Mr. Browne move them. But the glass manufactory is by the north road also,” Hartley said worriedly, following the action. “They won’t burn an empty barn, will they? There are kittens in there.”

  “Oh dear.” Aster bit her lip. “Cats are smart. They’ll run,” she said for the boy’s benefit. Danger in the family sector did not mean danger to the cats, she was reasonably certain. Going out there to save cats—now that would be dangerous.

  But Theo’s manufactory . . . Everything he owned and wanted was in there. At times like this, she wished she really was a witch.

  Anxiously, she began the tale of Robin of Loxley and Maid Marian.

  A few minutes later, a footman scratched at the salon door. Aster gestured for him to speak.

  “Master Hugh says as there’s horses comin’ up through the east pasture, quiet-like. The marquess says we’re to send word to Mr. Browne.”

  “Mr. Browne is gathering the tenants,” Hartley said from the window. “I can see where they are now. I can ride out and tell him.”

  “No, we need you here,” Aster said without hesitation. “James, send one of the grooms to inform Mr. Browne. Tell him what you just told us.”

  She didn’t want to turn Theo from protecting his livelihood until they knew what they were dealing with here. She hoped Mr. Browne knew what to do. She bit her lip and prayed she’d made the right decision.

  The footman bowed and hurried off. Aster couldn’t sit still. She rose and took the telescope from Hartley. “Where do I look?”

  He explained and she eventually located the stealthy figures approaching the creek that fed the pond. They were some distance away and hiding in the shadow of the hedgerow, but she could clearly see their surreptitious pace. They were coming from the direction of the village and not riding boldly up the drive. Their behavior had danger knives written all over it. “Is that the bridge where your father was hurt?”

  “Yes, it’s the shortcut to the tavern.”

  Hartley didn’t see her point, but Aster’s instincts leaped to appalling conclusions. That was private land. Everyone connected with the Hall was riding north to the more obvious danger on the public road. Whoever was sneaking in the back way was trespassing, using the riot as a cover.

  There were no houses in that direction, no witnesses to notice intruders.

  Those could be the very same people who had brought down the marquess. Perhaps she was being overly suspicious, but Ashford had been blinded while planets transited on the part of assassination. And now they’d moved on to catastrophe, danger, and violence.

  And the Hall and all its inhabitants were under those knives. She could not simply sit here and do nothing. Should she send grooms to Theo after all?

  “Keep an eye on them. I want to talk to your father.” Aster lifted her skirt and hurried down the corridor.

  The marquess was pacing his chamber, twitching his walking stick angrily while Hugh ran from window to window.

  “What would qualify as catastrophe?” Aster demanded, not even bothering to knock to announce her presence.

  “What the bloody hell does that mean?” Duncan swung to face the direction of her voice. The scowl on his scarred visage was formidable.

  “I won’t try to explain our natal transits, but Theo and I are on the part of catastrophe in the home. I believe those are your would-be assassins coming across the bridge. Would they strike the Hall if they think they’ve rendered you helpless?”

  Duncan glowered, but he didn’t call her a bloody fool. Aster thought that might be promising—and terrifying.

  “They’ve left one man by the bridge,” Hugh reported from the big bay window. “The others are leading their horses this way.”

  “They’re cutting off help from the village,” Duncan deciphered. “If anyone wants to warn us, they’ll have to go the long way or be cut down. If Theo and Browne are engaged elsewhere, they have the Hall isolated.”

  “Surely there is no reason to cause you more harm?” Aster asked in alarm. “Where’s the sense in that?”

  “If they deliberately lured Theo and the others out of the house, they could be after the Hall . . . or you,” Duncan said with a frown of puzzlement. “Erran’s in Brighton. Jacques, William, and the boys have no legal authority and are harmless. If they think they’ve rendered me helpless, you’re the only one of importance left. You’re a weaker link than Theo and an easier target.”

  “Me?” she squeaked. But her charts agreed. She just didn’t understand.

  Duncan thought about it. “After my injury, they expected us to wallow helplessly. Everyone knows I’m the one who runs the estate and no one else is interested. But then Theo stepped up. Worse, he dared to marry into a family near
ly as dangerous as ours. If I’m right, that means the men out there are of some station, probably men who oppose my beliefs and practices—or more likely, their hirelings are out there.”

  “I’m still not understanding,” Aster said in bewilderment. “It’s not as if I can do anything.” But if she were the target and not the Hall . . . then the manufactory was more important, and she was right to leave Theo defending it.

  “You already have—you involved your father. He’s in London now with Pascoe, both of them throwing their weight around, rocking the boat. Parliament is about to be dissolved because of dissatisfaction with Wellington’s Tory party.”

  “My father is loud, but he’s not dangerous,” Aster protested in bewilderment.

  Duncan snorted. “Your father is one of the most powerful men in Scotland, and between us, we’re related to half the landed gentry in the kingdom. Pascoe and your father will be standing in my stead to lead the election. If you are correct about assassins wishing to stop me, they have learned to their dismay that instead, a double monster has risen in my place. They must be in a state of panic.”

  “What can they expect to do to me that would stop my father?” Aster cried, bringing the topic back to the moment. She was unwilling to believe civilized Englishmen would conspire against her or her family.

  Her family. She—personally—was a real danger to them, even when she wasn’t in Scotland! It wasn’t just a figment of the zodiac. Appalled, she shut up, trying to determine how she could avert a catastrophe she couldn’t see.

  “If you are right that these men actually attacked me,” Duncan continued, apparently using her as a sounding board, “then they did their best to make it look like an accident. Outright murder is apparently not on their agenda, yet. I assume that at the very least, they will attempt to frighten you off. Women do generally leave us, so it’s not exactly a far-fetched notion.” Duncan’s grim tone said it all.