by M. J. Putney
Rebecca nodded. “Yes, please.”
Tory led the new arrivals across the room. With almost everyone working on the wards, the hall was unusually silent. Most of the Irregulars would have to return to the school soon, but their aid now gave the regular ward mages a break for several hours. The best hearth witches in the group were taking turns in the kitchen area to provide warm drinks and food for tired magelings. Alice, one of the strongest hearth witches, produced a steaming pot of tea in minutes.
The teachers and the time-traveling Irregulars converged on Tory and her guests, and there was a flurry of greetings and welcomes. After Tory made the introductions, Miss Wheaton said, “I’m so glad to meet you. Let’s move to the conference room so our talk won’t disturb those working the wards.”
After everyone who wanted tea and cakes had acquired them, the group moved to the small side room that was used for special projects and discussions. Inside was a round table, a dozen or so chairs, and an old sofa. Rebecca sat next to Tory, with Nick on her other side. She looked resigned.
Once everyone was settled, Tory said, “Nick and Rebecca, I’ll summarize what we’re facing.” She explained about the buildup of French troops and ships and the way the French had been testing British defenses with small-scale attempts at invasion. Then Mr. Stephens explained the wards, which were deteriorating under the constant assault of the French mage corps and might be close to failing.
Rebecca and Nick listened attentively. After the situation was explained, Rebecca said, “This sounds grave, but what do you think I can do to make a difference?”
“We’re hoping you can change Napoleon’s mind about invading England,” Tory said flatly.
Rebecca gasped. “You’re mad! How could I possibly do anything like that? Especially to a man on the other side of the English Channel!”
“When you described how you were able to alter the minds of your schoolmate and the Nazi pilot, you mentioned that you were touching your subject,” Elspeth said. “We’ll get you into the French camp so you can touch Napoleon and rearrange his ambitions.”
Face white, Rebecca asked, “Are you going to fly me in, Tory?”
Cynthia answered instead. “We’re going to dress as trollops and flounce into the camp and announce that we’re there to entertain Bonaparte. I’ll provide the illusion magic to make us look like doxies, Elspeth will knock out the first consul afterward, Tory will enhance everyone’s magic so we can accomplish all we need, and you’ll persuade Bonaparte that he’d really rather invade Russia.”
“Russia?” Rebecca asked feebly.
“Or Austria or India or China for all I care,” Cynthia said with a shrug. “Anywhere, as long as it’s far from here.”
“You’re beautiful, so I’m sure you can make yourself look glamorous and seductive,” Rebecca said, her brow furrowed. “But I’m a schoolgirl and look it. I doubt I can make a convincing trollop.”
“Don’t underestimate my illusion magic,” Cynthia said with a mischievous smile. “Look at Elspeth.”
Everyone shifted their gaze to Elspeth, whose petite size and silver blond hair meant she usually looked like a spun-sugar angel. Under the influence of Cynthia’s magic, she became a sultry blond temptress.
Rebecca and Nick gasped. “I retract my statement,” Rebecca said, staring. “If you can make Elspeth look wanton, you can certainly do the same for me. But still—change Napoleon’s mind?”
A sudden thought struck Tory. “I hadn’t considered this because everyone here hates Napoleon for what he’s doing, but you’re French. You lived your whole life in France until a few weeks ago. Does it bother you that we’re asking you to fight against your native country?”
“It does feel odd,” Rebecca admitted. “In French schools, we’re taught that Napoleon Bonaparte is our greatest national hero. That he was a man of incredible strength and ability who shaped French law and government and changed the face of Europe before other countries ganged together to bring him down, like jackals. His tomb is a magnificent monument in Paris.”
“I hear a ‘but’ in your voice,” Tory said.
“It’s true that he helped pull France out of the Middle Ages and did many good things, but he was also a tyrant. Like Hitler.” Rebecca’s lips tightened. “And I despise tyrants. England has given me and my family sanctuary, and I will defend England in my own time or the past.”
“Good lass,” Nick said warmly.
From the way Rebecca gazed up at him, the mutual attraction Tory had noticed from the beginning was developing fast. Smiling to herself, she said, “The biggest question is whether your magic is strong enough to reshape the mind of a man as forceful as Bonaparte. We must test your abilities before we put all our necks on the chopping block by taking on the Army of Boulogne.”
Rebecca winced. “In this era, the chopping block is not just a saying, is it? It’s only been about ten years since France was guillotining too many of her citizens.”
Mr. Stephens nodded. “The revolution had some fine goals and ideals, but it veered into horror, and now into the hands of a tyrant who wants to conquer the world.”
“He won’t if we have anything to say about it!” Jack said.
“We have work to do before we go into France,” Allarde said. “We need to find the nearest mirror portal and get maps of the Boulogne area. And Elspeth, you need to scry as much information as you can so we can find Napoleon in his camp.”
“My finder ability will be useful,” Nick said. “Once we’re near the camp, I think I should be able to find Bonaparte without a problem.”
“Useful indeed.” Miss Wheaton covered a yawn. “That’s enough for tonight, I think. None of us will be very effective if we exhaust ourselves.”
“Rebecca and Nick, you’ll be staying with us while you’re here,” Jack said. “That way you can see what the world is like outside the school. Rebecca, you can work with my mother. She’s powerful and a good teacher.”
“She’s also a very skilled hearth witch, Rebecca,” Tory said. “While you’re there, you can pick up some of the basics.”
“Since coming through the mirror is like being stomped on by a bull, I’ll go home and bring back a carriage so the two of you don’t have to walk to our house,” Jack said.
“That would be lovely,” Rebecca said with a tired smile. “Though I could fall asleep on the sofa against that wall.”
“You’ll be a lot more comfortable at our house.” Jack got to his feet. “We seem to be done here, so I’ll head for home to get that carriage. Tell my sister I’ll be back soon so she can ride back in comfort, too.”
As Jack left the room, Rebecca covered a yawn with her hand. “I’ll just rest here until Jack returns.”
“Lie down on the sofa,” Tory suggested. “There’s a knee rug to keep you warm. Nick, do you want to rest here also?”
He shook his head. “The trip wasn’t as hard on me, so I’ll use the time to talk to you and the others.”
As he left the room, Rebecca curled up on her side on the sofa. Tory spread the knee robe over her. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly.
Rebecca’s eyes opened, her clear gray eyes direct. “You knew I would.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful. Rest well.” Tory headed toward the door. For the first time in days, she was hopeful.
CHAPTER 28
Rebecca barely remembered the drive to the Rainford farm. When Jack returned, she met his sister, Rachel, who was a year or two younger than Rebecca but close to the same size. Rachel promised to lend what garments their guest would require.
After a lengthy walk through another chalk tunnel, they emerged in a small grove of trees where a plain closed carriage with a patient pony waited. Once they were all inside, Nick put his arm around Rebecca and she promptly fell asleep on him despite the novelty of a carriage ride. She loved sleeping with his arms around her.
The farm was large and impressive from what Rebecca could see. Jack’s mother, Li
ly, was petite and unflappable. She loaned Rebecca a flannel nightgown and put her guest to bed in a wonderfully comfortable featherbed. Rainfords were as hospitable in this century as in Rebecca’s time.
Firmly shutting off the part of her mind that was shrieking over the fact that she was expected to march up to Napoleon and persuade him not to invade England, Rebecca burrowed into her borrowed bed and slept like a stone.
When she awoke the next morning, it was too gray to guess the time, but she suspected it wasn’t early. She pushed herself up in bed. The night before, she’d been too tired to pay much attention, but today she examined the nightgown Lily Rainford had loaned her. The fabric was a pale natural color, and it was well-worn but very clean.
She flipped up the hem and studied the tiny stitches. Amazing to think that every single stitch in the nightgown had been sewn by hand. She’d never worn a hand-sewn garment in her life.
How long did it take to make a nightgown by hand? She couldn’t even guess.
She slid from the high bed and found that the floor was icy cold. Nick had said that if they arrived when they intended, which they had, it would be early spring. Cold.
A mirror was mounted on the wardrobe, so she studied her image. Her shoulder-length dark hair was shorter than girls wore it now, but there was nothing else to mark her as a girl from the future.
The yoke of the nightgown was beautifully embroidered with blue flowers and green leaves. She touched one of the flowers, impressed again at the quality of the hand sewing. But the amount of time required for even simple clothing meant that most people would own only a handful of garments. In the days before the Nazis came, Rebecca had had a full closet of shoes and clothing. In this time, only the rich could own so much.
A knock sounded on the door and a voice called softly, “Rebecca, it’s Rachel. Are you awake?”
Rebecca replied by opening the door. “Good morning, Rachel. I assume it still is morning?”
“It is,” Rachel said with a laugh. “The fog should burn off and we’ll have a sunny day, I think.”
Jack’s sister was fully dressed in a gown made of a sturdy blue fabric that looked as though it would wear well, and her blond hair was coiled neatly at the nape of her neck. She had a patterned blue-and-gray shawl draped around her shoulders, and several garments were draped over her left arm. “May I offer you some clothing? I rather envy you the men’s wear you traveled in, but you’ll never pass for a local in trousers.”
“Thank you. Please, come in.” Rebecca stepped back so Rachel could enter. “I understand that Jack is the best weather mage around. Do you have the same ability?”
Rachel entered and laid the clothing on the bed. “No, except for Lady Cynthia, most strong weather mages are male. Though Jack said Nick’s sister, Polly, has weather talent. I can predict weather, but that’s much less useful than making it! My strongest ability is as a hearth witch, which is very useful, but not at all glamorous.”
“I’m hoping to learn something about hearth witchery while I’m here,” Rebecca said. “None of the twentieth-century Rainfords have it.”
“My mother is the one to learn from. She keeps this house warm all winter.”
“What a wonderful ability,” Rachel said, thinking of how cold the crowded cell in France had been.
“I didn’t realize how wonderful until I stayed with a friend who didn’t have it!” Rachel shook out the gown she’d brought. It was long-sleeved and made of a soft blue gray fabric. “This should fit you. Do you understand the underwear that goes with it?”
“I’m beginning to realize the depths of my ignorance,” Rebecca admitted. “You’ll have to start at the beginning.”
“This is everyday wear, not at all complicated,” Rachel said as she displayed each garment. “The morning gown fastens in front so you won’t need help to put it on. I’ve brought a shift and light stays, an extra petticoat since the weather is cold, stockings and garters, and a shawl.”
Rebecca examined the stays, a quilted garment with bones and lacing up the front. It started at the waist, covered the torso and supported the breasts, and had shoulder straps. “Does this go over or under the shift, and how tightly do I draw the lacing?”
“The stays go over the shift, and tighten them enough for support, but not so much as to make you uncomfortable. Most stays lace in the back, but I like to be able to lace myself.” Rachel held up a pair of tan ankle-high shoes. “I’ve outgrown these half-boots, but I think your feet are a bit smaller than mine, so with luck they’ll fit.”
Rebecca examined the shoes, puzzled. They were made of a heavy woven fabric and laced up the ankles. “Which is for the right foot and which is for the left?”
Rachel looked surprised. “There’s no difference in how they’re made, though I usually wore this one on the right foot and the other on the left because they start to take the shape of the feet.”
How long would it be until shoemakers started making shoes shaped specifically for right and left feet? There was so much Rebecca didn’t know!
Rachel said, “If you have no questions, I’ll meet you downstairs in the kitchen. Go left out this door to the steps, down the stairs, then right into the kitchen.”
“The adventure begins,” Rebecca said with a smile. “I hope to be down soon.”
“By the way, my mother thought it would be best to introduce you as Rebecca White, since that’s the English version of your name,” Rachel said. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I want to attract as little attention as possible,” Rebecca said. “I know that magic is accepted here, but I don’t want to have to explain time travel!”
“I don’t know if anyone can explain it,” Rachel said. “It just is.”
“Does it bother you that your brother and the others are the ones who have the adventures?” Rebecca asked.
“Dangerous adventures!” Rachel said. “If I was needed, I’d go. It’s very satisfying to work on the wards since the work is vital. But I have nothing like the power that the time travelers do. They also work really well together. A lot of that is Tory, I think. Her ability to blend different energies together has made a team with tremendous combined power. I envy them their closeness. But not their danger!”
“I’m not enthralled by the danger part myself,” Rebecca said wryly.
“They’re not only powerful,” Rachel said as she left the room. “They’re lucky.”
Rebecca managed the clothing without much difficulty. No zippers, but lots of things that needed to be tied. She kept her twentieth-century knickers because it felt odd not to wear them. The other garments went on easily, and the stays were surprisingly comfortable as well as adding a layer of warmth.
The gown was in the flattering Empire style that everyone wore in this time period. The waist was just below the breasts, and the skirt fell straight to her ankles from that point. The unshaped half-boots felt a little strange, but at least they didn’t pinch.
Hoping her garters wouldn’t come undone and fall around her ankles, Rebecca made her way downstairs. The house was attractive and well furnished, with beautiful views of the sea on one side and lush farmland on the other. The Rainfords might not be aristocrats like the students of Lackland Abbey, but they were obviously prosperous.
She found Rachel and Mrs. Rainford sharing cups of tea with a comfortably round woman who wore an apron. Mrs. Rainford said, “Good morning, Rebecca. Nick and Jack are studying maps in the library. This is Mrs. Brewster, our cook. Be very, very polite to her, since she is much too good a cook to lose! Mrs. Brewster, this is Rebecca White, who will be staying with us for a few days.”
“You need feeding up, child.” Mrs. Brewster finished her tea and stood. “I’ve some nice bacon and potatoes I fried earlier, and I’ll cook a pair of eggs to go with them.”
This was a complication Rebecca hadn’t thought about. “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “I can’t eat any kind of pork or shellfish.”
“They don’t agree w
ith you?” the cook asked, surprised.
“No, I’m Jewish and they are forbidden to my religion,” Rebecca explained. “So sadly, I can’t eat any of that delicious-smelling bacon.”
Mrs. Brewster clucked sympathetically. “Poor girl! I’ll scramble your eggs with some cheese and make extra toast.”
“You can’t eat bacon?” Rachel grinned. “I’d say that was unfortunate except that now I can ask Mrs. Brewster for the pieces she was saving for you.”
“While we’re waiting for your breakfast, tell me more about your mental magic,” Mrs. Rainford said. “From what I’ve heard, it’s rare and different.”
Rebecca liked that her religion didn’t seem to matter to anyone here. “I don’t really understand it myself,” she admitted. “But this is what I’ve done.”
She outlined what had happened with Sylvia Crandall and the German pilot and finished just as Mrs. Brewster set a plate containing a fluffy herb-and-cheese omelet, fried potatoes, and toast in front of her. Realizing she was ravenous again, she said, “If you’ll excuse me…,” and attacked the food.
“We need to find you a person who needs his attitudes adjusted,” Mrs. Rainford said thoughtfully.
“How about the vicar?” Rachel suggested. “He’s been rather difficult lately.”
“Ah, a perfect choice. When you’ve finished your breakfast, Rebecca, we shall pay Mr. Andrews a call.”
Rebecca swallowed another bite of eggs and potatoes. “What is Mr. Andrews’ problem?”
“I have my suspicions, but I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.”
Rebecca suddenly felt less hungry. “What if I can’t affect his mind? I won’t be of any use to you.”
“Then we’ll think of something else.” Mrs. Rainford patted Rebecca’s hand. “There’s no point in worrying. Concentrate on the fact that you’ll be walking in the past! I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.”
Rebecca knew she would. She just hoped she didn’t do anything really stupid by mistake.