19
ETTA, HELEN, AND I made our way back through the forest by foot, following a path that the Blythe Wood opened for us, while Raven and Marlin flew overhead. I’d only been able to say a hurried farewell to Raven, but he’d squeezed my hand again and asked if I’d read his note. I told him I hadn’t had time to, and he looked hurt and left hurriedly. I opened the note as we walked. “Don’t go in the woods tonight,” was all it said. Well, that wasn’t very helpful, I thought, as the clear moonlit sky above us opened up and let down a torrent of rain.
“It’s the changelings,” Etta told us, smiling through the downpour. “They move through water when they’re unhosted. The rain will take them to the river and the river will take them down to the city to look for Rue. The lampsprites will fly with them.”
“Couldn’t they have caught the morning train from Rhinecliff?” Helen asked, regarding her mud-soaked boots ruefully.
Etta’s response was to hug Helen and thank her for coming to find her. Helen gruffly told her to quit the sentimental bosh and get back to the dorm or we’d all catch our deaths of cold. But I noticed that she was smiling when Etta turned away to hurry along the path—and still was when we got to the edge of the woods where Nathan and Mr. Bellows were waiting for us.
“Thank the Bells,” Mr. Bellows said, tearing at his already rumpled hair. “I thought the wood had devoured you.”
“What took so long?” Nathan demanded.
“We were rescuing Etta,” Helen replied haughtily, “while you gentlemen were being led on a merry chase by a bunch of trees.”
I waited to see if she would mention Raven and Marlin coming to our aid, but instead she looked around and asked, “Where’s Daisy?”
“She’s back in the library with Vi and Lillian—she was so upset that we thought it best she stay there.”
“Oh,” Helen said, looking more miffed than relieved. “She must be worried about us and sorry we had that silly fight. But you would think she’d have come looking for us.”
Nathan and Mr. Bellows looked at each other and shrugged, as if to say they weren’t about to enter into the internal workings of girls’ friendships. Then they both turned to walk back to the castle, with Etta between them excitedly explaining the plan she had initiated with the changelings and lampsprites. When we reached the library Miss Sharp and Daisy already knew about the plan from Miss Corey. Helen looked uneasy for the first time since we’d left the Rowan Circle.
“Did she tell you anything else?”
Miss Sharp looked at her quizzically and shook her head. “She only spoke of the changelings—and then once you were safe she went into a deep trance. Is there something else we should know, Helen?”
“Yes, Helen,” Daisy said. “Is there anything else? We all know how much you despise keeping secrets.”
I stared at Daisy. Although her eyes were pink from crying, she hadn’t gotten up to greet us. Was she really still angry with us? And would Helen, in her pique, reveal our encounter with the Darklings? But Helen only shook her head. “Of course the experience of seeing the changelings and lampsprites communicate is not possible to convey. You had to be there.”
Daisy turned pale and bit her lip. “It was clever of Etta to think of including the lampsprites.” Then she busied herself pouring tea for us all while Miss Sharp built up the fire.
We sat around it talking through the night, filling our teachers and Nathan in on everything Omar and Kid Marvel had told us. It was clear that the news weighed heavily on Nathan. I had thought that rescuing Ruth from the Hellgate Club had done something toward relieving his grief over his sister Louisa’s condition, but now I saw that the situation was an uncomfortable reminder of his limitations. He had rescued Louisa from Faerie, but part of her still lingered there; he had rescued Ruth from the Hellgate Club, but her changeling self had been lost, and now all those other girls were gone, too. I wondered if finding Rue and the others would dispel the shadows from his soul. Or would there always be one more girl he couldn’t save to haunt him?
“I’m glad the changelings are looking for Rue and the other girls,” Miss Sharp said, “but I’m afraid it’s not enough. We have to go to the Council. We should have gone to them right away.”
“I’ll go to Dame Beckwith and tell her it was my idea to keep the whole thing secret,” Mr. Bellows offered gallantly.
“We’ll all go to Dame Beckwith,” Miss Sharp said.
“Us too?” Daisy asked, wringing her hands. “Do you think they’ll expel us?”
“I meant Mr. Bellows, Miss Corey, and me,” she said, laying a hand on her friend’s shoulder. Even in her trance, Miss Corey stirred at her touch. “As for you three . . .” She blinked at us in the early-morning light as though she’d just remembered something. “Don’t you have midterms today?”
We could have gone to Dame Beckwith and asked to be excused from midterms, but none of us wanted to be around when she found out the secret we’d been keeping from her. Instead we sat through our exams. When I looked up from my own paper I saw Nathan, Helen, and Daisy hard at work at theirs. Daisy looked grim and determined, as though she had decided to best us all by getting the highest grade. Helen looked energized and fresh. Even Nathan looked serious. When had that happened? I wondered, lowering my eyes to the blank page in front of me. Last year Nathan had been the one in danger of failing; this year it was me. Perhaps if I hadn’t been up all night I would have managed to summon a few random facts to put down, but I had to admit there were few enough of those facts rattling around in a head full of lost girls and menacing shadows, midnight flights and feathery kisses. I wasn’t all that surprised to be called in to Dame Beckwith’s office the week after exams.
I approached her office with dragging steps, sure that I was about to be asked to leave. I had seriously considered not coming back to Blythewood this year. I had told Helen and Daisy that I didn’t care about failing my exams. Raven had told me he wanted me to come to him when I was ready. So why was I so afraid of being asked to leave?
Was it because I wasn’t sure Raven would have me . . . or because I wasn’t ready to go to him yet?
Well, you should have thought of that before you botched your exams, I chided myself as I lifted a heavy hand to knock on Dame Beckwith’s door.
“You musn’t blame yourself!”
The words would have been reassuring had they been directed at me, but as they came from behind the closed door, they clearly weren’t. Besides, I recognized the voice as that of Miss Frost, who would have been the first to tell me that my problems were my own fault—and to point out that it was rude to be eavesdropping on a private conversation. I lifted my hand again just as Dame Beckwith replied, “Who else should I blame? Jude?”
My hand froze. Jude? Could she possibly mean Judicus van Drood? I lowered my hand and opened my inner ear to listen.
“Well, yes,” Miss Frost replied, “Judicus van Drood chose to become a monster.”
“Do any of us make that choice, Euphorbia? I saw what was happening to him. I saw that he loved Evangeline”—my heart quickened at the sound of my mother’s name—“but I forbade him to speak to her.”
“Of course you did!” Miss Frost cried. “She was his student. It would have been most improper! You directed him to the correct procedure—to apply to the Council for approval of the match when she came of age. And they did approve—”
“Until he lost his fortune. And by that time Evangeline was in love with another.”
I waited, scarcely daring to breathe, to see if Dame Beckwith would reveal the identity of my father. Did she know who he was? But if she had known he was a Darkling, she would never have allowed me at Blythewood.
“He’s not the only one to ever lose a beloved. When I lost Miles—”
“You spent the next twenty years overindulging in drink,” Dame Beckwith snapped. “And allowed the tenebrae to possess a
student right under your nose.” The silence that followed made it clear how mortified Miss Frost must be from the remark. When Dame Beckwith spoke next her voice was gentler.
“Your loss weakened you, Euphorbia, just as Jude’s weakened him. It made you vulnerable to the shadows, just as it made him.”
“It was because I was jealous of other people’s happiness,” Miss Frost said. “I see that now that I have him back. Surely you understand.”
Dame Beckwith sighed.
“Yes. I think for a time I, too, was preyed on by the shadows. I was happy to go along with the Council’s decision to delay Jude’s betrothal to Evangeline, and I was happy when they revoked their permission to wed. I allowed myself to believe he’d forget Evangeline, that we could be together. Me, a married woman!”
“Your marriage to Daniel Beckwith was not exactly a love match.”
“No.” Dame Beckwith laughed ruefully. “It certainly wasn’t. But at least he allowed the world to believe Nathan was his child, despite knowing otherwise. And after Nathan was born I understood that I must renounce Jude. I saw what he’d become. I tried to save him, but the shadows had already taken over. And now—to think that he’s luring young women to their ruin! I feel as if I am personally responsible for the fates of those poor women!”
“You must not think that, India. You have our own girls to consider. How did the council react when you told them about the Hellgate Club?”
“Not well. They accused me of not having control over my own teachers and students, and they expressed a concern that Blythewood girls have grown too aggressive. They’re afraid our girls have turned into bluestockings like the British suffragettes, tossing bricks through windows and planting bombs. What do they expect? They train us to kill and then expect us to be equally comfortable pouring tea and beheading goblins.”
“Well,” Euphorbia said, “a few additional decorum lessons won’t hurt the girls.”
Dame Beckwith was silent for a moment. When she spoke, it was lower, and I had to strain to hear. “They said if we didn’t demonstrate that our girls were being trained in the feminine arts they will close down the school.”
“They wouldn’t!”
“I believe they would . . . Oh dear, please don’t weep, Euphorbia.”
“But where would Miles and I go if the school closed?” Miss Frost said in a quavering voice.
“We’ll just have to do our best to make sure it doesn’t. Now, please compose yourself. Haven’t you a class at this hour?”
The sound of Miss Frost’s petticoats rustling gave me ample warning that she was approaching the door. I quickly scurried around the corner and waited until she passed by, so busy sniffling that she didn’t notice me. I felt like crying myself. Could the Council truly be thinking of closing Blythewood? I couldn’t be kicked out now! I had to find a way to save the school.
I paused, once again, on the threshold of Dame Beckwith’s office. Miss Frost had left the door partially open. Dame Beckwith was sitting behind her desk, her chair angled so she could look out the window that faced the lawn, the gardens, and the Blythe Wood, but the windows were fogged and obscured by the rain that had been coming down since All Hallows’ Eve. As I watched I saw her lift a hand to wipe her eyes.
It had been shocking to hear Dame Beckwith talk about her love for Judicus van Drood, shocking to hear her talk about the Council trying to close Blythewood, but all of that was nothing to seeing strong, indomitable Dame Beckwith reduced to tears. I almost fled, but she must have heard me.
“Oh, Avaline,” she said, turning from the window and squaring her shoulders. “Come in. I was just wondering what this rain would do to the lacrosse field.”
It was such a mundane concern that I almost laughed, but then I realized this was how Dame Beckwith was able to face all those problems and go on. Just as she had gone on after she lost her beloved to the shadows and her daughter to Faerie.
“I know you have a lot on your mind,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “If there’s anything I can do to help . . .”
“As a matter of fact, I have a job for you.”
“Anything,” I told her, thinking I’d be happy to slaughter goblins or comb the streets of New York City looking for the Hellgate Club.
“I knew I could count on you. The Council has suggested we have a Christmas dance.”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. “A . . . dance?”
“It’s exactly what we have to do right now,” she said firmly. “I’ve already spoken to Herr Hofmeister about it. He’s full of ideas and he asked me to assign him an assistant. I suggested you.”
“Me? But I don’t even like to dance.”
“Life is full of doing things we don’t enjoy, Avaline,” she said grimly. “The discipline will be good for you and keep you out of trouble.” She raised her eyes to mine. They were clear and sharp, all sign of tears gone. “Unless there’s something else you’re doing with your evenings you’d like to tell me about.”
I swallowed hard, willing myself not to think about Raven and our moonlit flights lest she divine them with her penetrating gaze. “No,” I said, “just studying. I’m afraid I’ll fall behind—”
“You did brilliantly on your exams,” she said. “I always find that the busier I am the more I can get done. I know you’ll do a good job. In fact, I’m counting on you to make this dance a success. The future of Blythewood depends on it.”
I left Dame Beckwith’s office in a fog as deep as the one outside on the river. I wasn’t sure what to be more befuddled by—that the Council in all their wisdom had responded to the news of an underworld racket of abducting girls by suggesting we throw a dance, or that I’d aced my exams. At least I had a suspicion about the solution to the latter.
“Yes, we replaced your exams,” Helen readily admitted when I confronted her and Daisy.
“I used a forgery spell to fake your handwriting,” Daisy said proudly. “Helen snuck into Dame Beckwith’s office.”
At least they seemed to have made up with each other for the purpose of this caper.
“What else could we do?” Helen asked innocently. “You would have gotten thrown out otherwise.”
“B-but we’ll all be thrown out if Dame Beckwith finds out.”
“Dame Beckwith has bigger fish to fry,” Helen said. “A dance! How completely absurd. And run by that silly man!”
“He is rather dotty,” Daisy concurred. “But rather sweet. He reminds me of my uncle Gustav. I wonder if outsiders will be invited?”
“I certainly hope not!” Helen cried. “My mother would jump at the chance to send her ancient bachelors. We’ll all look like perfect fools. I personally will have nothing to do with it.”
“Well, I think it sounds like fun,” Daisy said, glaring at Helen, their truce apparently at an end. “I’ll help you, Ava. Just let me know what I can do.”
I would have liked to send Daisy in my stead, but I didn’t want to get her in any more trouble than she’d already risked on my behalf. So that evening after dinner I reported to the large room on the second floor that had been converted into a dancing studio by rolling up the old rugs, polishing the hardwood floors, and installing a wall of mirrors.
“Ah, Fraulein Hall!” Herr Hofmeister simpered, clicking his heels together and bowing. “I was wondering when I would have the pleasure of your company. Your absence from my dance classes has not gone unnoticed.”
“Well, er, I already took dancing classes with Madame Musette.”
“Ah, Madame Musette,” he murmured, shaking his head sorrowfully. “A quaint old dear, but unfortunately hopelessly out of date and too blind to see what her students need. Take you, for example.” He tucked his stick beneath his arm and, before I quite knew what he was up to, whirled me around to face the mirrors and put his hands on my shoulders. I gasped aloud. Would he feel my wings beneath my bone
s?
“Look at yourself in the mirror, Fraulein.” It was an order, not a request. I half expected to see myself revealed as the winged monster I had seen in the Hall of Mirrors at Coney Island, but all I saw was a nervous-looking redhead cowering beneath the foppish dancing master’s gaze.
“See how your shoulders are hunched over as though you were hiding from someone?” He pressed his hands on my shoulders, forcing them down. “And your shoulder blades.” He lowered his hands and I flinched, sure now that he would feel the wings. “They are as tight as bow strings. You must stand up straight, but remain relaxed and flexible, like a willow bending in the wind, lest you snap!” He rapped his stick against the floor, making me jump.
“You will learn all this in my dance class.”
“Actually, I just came to say that Dame Beckwith has put me in charge of the Christmas dance.”
“Ach du lieber! But then you must certainly attend my classes. How else will you understand what I am attempting to achieve?”
I conceded he had a point.
“Excellent! We will discuss the program and necessary arrangements for the Christmas dance after class, and I will provide you with extra lessons to make up for the time you have missed. You will not regret it, Fraulein. You shall see a marvelous transformation by Christmas. I will have you flying around the ballroom!”
Although it made me feel disloyal to Madame Musette, I had to admit that Herr Hofmeister’s dance classes did transform me. It wasn’t just that my posture improved—he was right, I had been hunching over—but that my state of mind did, too. Perhaps I had been inwardly cowering, so afraid of being revealed as a monster that I had begun to see myself as one. When I was dancing in Herr Hofmeister’s class, though, I did not think of myself as a monster. I didn’t think at all. The complicated steps and the hundred and one instructions (chin up, tummy in, we’re not on the hockey field, Miss Bennett) chased every thought from my brain. It was a welcome respite.
Ravencliffe (Blythewood series) Page 17