The two girls at the round table began to whisper heatedly.
I smiled sweetly at Mrs. Wingate.
It wasn’t surprising at all that she didn’t know who my godmother was. After all, as far as I knew, I was the only member my family who didn’t have one.
“Well,” she said. “Well. Well, really. I don’t know …”
I said, “If now is a poor time for you to receive visitors, pray don’t distress yourself. Lady Fotherington did so want us to have a good introduction to Bath, and if you don’t think you would be able to—”
“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Wingate. She was breathing heavily. “Nonsense. We are more than capable of hosting visitors. And you are not guests, you are family. Lady Fotherington—your godmama will soon realize her error, I am sure, when she sees what a successful visit you two girls have had.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, and curtsied. “I am sure she will be pleased to hear it.”
And truly, if I had had a godmother, I was sure she would have been pleased.
Stepmama’s voice came out as a croak. “Cousin—Mrs. Wingate—I must apologize and explain—”
“Never mind any of that,” Mrs. Wingate said. “You have all had a long journey, I daresay, and you’ll want rest and refreshment before anything else. Jonathan!” The footman stepped forward. “Show Reverend and Mrs. Stephenson and their son to their rooms, and tell Cook to send up food for them as quickly as possible. And perhaps … yes.” She glanced over to the round table. “My own daughters will be pleased to show Miss Stephenson and Miss Katherine to their room.”
The younger girl smiled and bounced up from her seat, abandoning her sewing. The older one scowled and took as long as she could to neatly fold and put away her work before she rose.
“Well, Kat,” Angeline breathed into my ear. “Now you’ve done it.”
Eight
I woke early the next morning to the sound of wheels rattling down the cobblestoned street outside. Men’s voices called back and forth to one another, and a high-pitched boy’s voice cried out the same word over and over again.
“Mi-ilk! Mi-ilk! Mi-i-ilk! …”
Footsteps sounded in the servants’ attic just above our room, and doors opened and closed. I jumped out of bed and hurried to the window seat. Angeline groaned and buried her face in her pillow.
In the dim gray light before dawn, the street outside was filled with people—not the promenading crowd of fashion this time, but men driving heavy carts full of goods, women haggling with them over prices, and one boy swinging buckets of milk from both arms. I could have curled up in the window seat and watched the passing crowd all morning long. But I had more important matters to sort out first. I tucked my knees under my chin, wrapped my arms around my legs for warmth and courage, and took a deep breath. I was about to do something almost no one in my family ever dared to do: wake Angeline from her sleep.
“Angeline!” I said.
She snarled something unintelligible into her pillow and didn’t move.
“Angeline,” I repeated. “Wake up!”
Growling, she flung herself onto her back and regarded me through slitted dark eyes. “What?” she said. “Tell me, Kat. What could be so earth-shatteringly important that you have to wake me before it’s even light outside?”
“It’s the only chance we’ll have to talk alone today,” I said. “Unless you want to do it in front of the Wingate sisters?”
“Heaven forbid. Maria Wingate would sneer and save up all the juicy details to tattle to her mother, and Lucy would probably giggle herself to death from sheer vapidity.” Angeline dragged herself up to her elbows and glared at me. “So. Have we talked long enough? Can I go back to sleep now?”
I gritted my teeth. “No. We have to come up with a plan. What are we going to do?”
“About the Wingates? Sigh and bear them, I expect, since you had to jump in and trick them into inviting us.”
“Not about them,” I said. “About Stepmama. If you don’t find a fiancé before we leave Bath—”
Angeline’s voice turned ice-cold. “Don’t even consider it.”
“Well, obviously you’re not going to betray Mr. Carlyle that way,” I said. “I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Hmm,” said Angeline, and lay back against her pillow. “Well, now that we’ve made that important decision, I’m going to—”
“Listen to me!” I said. “When you don’t find a fiancé, Stepmama is going to think she has to carry through on that ridiculous threat to expel you from the family.”
“‘Has to carry through’?” Angeline repeated, one eyebrow arching. “She doesn’t have to do anything. Are you actually taking her side in this?”
“No,” I said. “Of course not. But she would never have made any such threat if you hadn’t worked her up into too much of a rage to think clearly.”
“Ah. So it’s all my fault. How strange that I never thought of asking you for advice on how to handle Stepmama. Silly me. Somehow, I’d completely failed to notice you handling her any better.”
“That’s not what matters now,” I said. “We have to come up with a plan. I was thinking—”
“We don’t have to do any such thing,” Angeline said. “I have never asked you for advice in my life, and I certainly don’t plan to start now. I’ll handle this by myself.”
I glared at her. “So what exactly are you planning to do? Let yourself be thrown out, just to prove you have more pride than she does?”
“If you actually think that’s likely, you don’t know me well at all.” Angeline stretched and settled herself more comfortably in the bed. “I have my own plans, which you needn’t concern yourself with.”
“Your own plans?” I said. “Oh, well, those will end well, then. Just like the last ones you made. No need for me to worry, then, is there?”
Color flared in Angeline’s cheeks. She pushed herself back up to glare at me. “Just because you’ve been chosen as some sort of magical Guardian and think yourself so terribly important and high above the rest of us now—”
“I don’t,” I said, “but—”
“No? What was all that at Elissa’s wedding, then? When I tried to cast a spell on Mrs. Carlyle, and you had to step in and stop me as if—”
“You don’t understand!” I said. “Mrs. Carlyle had her information from Lady Fotherington. She’s friends with Lady Fotherington.”
“So?”
“So, didn’t you wonder how Lady Fotherington knew all about your earlier spells?” I said. “She’s not just a Society leader. She’s a Guardian!”
Angeline stared at me. Her flushed cheeks turned pale. “You stopped me from casting that spell because Lady Fotherington is another Guardian? Because she’s a member of your stupid little Order?”
“That’s not it,” I said. “But if she saw—”
“You took her side against me,” Angeline said. “I can’t believe it. Ever since they chose you instead of me as a Guardian—”
“They didn’t choose me,” I said. “I inherited the powers from Mama. Lady Fotherington didn’t like it, but they all had to accept …” I stumbled to a halt.
They hadn’t accepted it in the end, had they? But I couldn’t force the words out. To admit to Angeline how stupid I’d been—how I’d ruined my chances there, too …
“So you don’t want to make them angry now,” she said. “Oh, well done, Kat. Very loyal indeed. No wonder you’ve been acting so concerned about my situation. You think you can make up for betraying me at the church by solving all my problems yourself now, do you?”
“That isn’t—”
“Enough!” she said. “We are not going to talk about this anymore. Even if I’d ever considered letting you help me with my scheme, I certainly wouldn’t now. And you can tell that to your whole precious Order, if you like!”
She pulled the covers up over her head and flipped herself away from me.
Four hours later, Angeline still wasn’t speaking to m
e. Luckily, neither of us was expected to make conversation. We had both been bundled out of the house by Stepmama at barely eight a.m., carrying umbrellas against the lightly falling rain. Squeezing around other walkers on the crowded pavement, we followed Mrs. Wingate, Stepmama, Papa, a desperately yawning Charles, and both Wingate sisters down the curving street toward something called the Pump Room. Despite the gray skies and early hour, Stall Street was already packed with other ladies and gentlemen in their finest clothing, all heading in the same direction.
“You may well stare, Miss Katherine,” Maria Wingate said loudly. “I can imagine that to country eyes such as your own, the sight of so much high fashion must be dazzling indeed.”
I snorted. Luckily, Stepmama was too far ahead of us to hear me. “I was only surprised that they were all awake,” I said. “I thought fashionable people always slept until noon.” I narrowed my eyes at her through the gray veil of rain that fell between our umbrellas. “Or perhaps that’s only in cities like London—really fashionable places.”
Maria’s thin cheeks flushed with angry color. But before she could reply, her younger sister broke in.
“London!” Lucy Wingate breathed. “Oh, how I long to go back to London! It is the only place in the world where life is worth living. Do you not agree, Miss Katherine?”
I blinked. “Well …”
“I would be surprised if Miss Katherine has ever been to London, Lucy.” Maria’s lips pursed into a smirk. “You mustn’t embarrass her by asking such revealing questions.”
“I am not embarrassed,” I said. “But you never answered my question. Why is everyone awake and dressed already? What could be so important?”
Lucy was the one who answered me, her big blue eyes wide and shocked. “But don’t you know? It’s the Pump Room. Everyone goes to the Pump Room in the mornings.”
“Why?”
“Well …” She looked as helpless as if I’d asked her to explain why the rain clouds were gray or the grass green. “It’s the Pump Room!”
“Perhaps you are not aware, Miss Katherine,” Maria said, “but the waters of Bath are renowned for their healing powers. At the Pump Room, one takes a restorative glass of water every morning for one’s health.”
I looked at the well-dressed, chattering stream of people all around us, exchanging nods and bows with acquaintances across the street. “None of them look ill.”
“You will soon adapt to the ways of fashionable society, I am sure,” said Maria. “In the meantime, you will simply have to take my word for it that no one of any consequence would ever allow themselves to sleep late in Bath.”
“No one?” Angeline said. It was a shock to hear her speak; she’d held herself rigidly apart for the entire walk until now. If she was willing to start talking again, she couldn’t be too enraged anymore … could she?
“No one,” Maria repeated.
“Hmm,” said Angeline. Her lips curved into a smile. “How very interesting.”
Oh, Lord. I knew that look, and I wasn’t relieved after all.
Streams of people from all directions converged into a broad cobbled square marked off from Stall Street by a colonnade of tall stone pillars. A great stone church—Bath Abbey—stood at the far end of the square, surrounded by little wooden shops that leaned against its strong walls. Mrs. Wingate led us between the broad pillars of the colonnade to a massive building just inside the square, with Grecian laurels carved in stone above the doors.
The cobblestones before it seethed with people heading for the front doors in a positive sea of fashion. Red uniforms stood out like points of flame. Back in our Yorkshire village, the war against France had seemed very far away, but there were military officers sprinkled all throughout the crowd here, with plumed bicorn hats and swords by their sides. The tall peacock feather in Mrs. Wingate’s hat bobbed like a flag for us to follow as she forged her way through the mass of people.
As we squeezed through the crowd in the foyer to give our umbrellas to the waiting attendants, Lucy Wingate leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Miss Katherine—I am afraid you will think me terribly forward—might I dare to ask you a perfectly shocking question?”
I darted a glance at the others, but none of them had noticed. “Of course,” I whispered back.
“I must ask—oh, dear …” Lucy blurted out the words in a sudden rush: “Is your brother Charles betrothed to any young lady yet?”
I stared at her. “Charles?”
My voice came out at normal volume, and Lucy leaped backward, squeaking. Charles glanced back at me in sleepy curiosity. I shook my head at him, and he turned away, shrugging.
“No,” I whispered. “Of course he isn’t. But—”
“Oh, Miss Katherine, you are an angel of kindness to tell me so!” Lucy said. “But I can scarcely believe it to be true. When a young man is so, so handsome and charming and so—”
“Charles?” I repeated. But at least I managed to whisper it this time.
“Girls!” Mrs. Wingate called, and gestured commandingly.
Lucy squeezed my hand. “We must talk later!” she hissed. Then she hurried ahead to join her mother.
I followed her into the big open main room, my head whirling.
Tall windows lined the opposite wall, flanked by elegant white pillars and benches, but they might as well have been miles away; the press of the crowd was far too intense for me to possibly reach them. Bonnet feathers bobbed madly in the air as a whole group of middle-aged matrons congregated around Mrs. Wingate. Papa hung back, looking pained. Charles had already disappeared.
“Of course, you all already know my own daughters,” Mrs. Wingate said to the group of ladies. “But may I present my cousin’s daughters to you? Miss Stephenson”—Angeline curtsied, her eyes demurely lowered—“and Miss Katherine Stephenson.”
I bobbed a curtsy and wondered whether she would bother to introduce any of the ladies to us. But Mrs. Wingate was already leaning forward and dropping her voice to confidential tones.
“You must know, Miss Katherine is the goddaughter of Lady Fotherington herself, who particularly desired her and her sister to have the finest introduction to Bath society.”
“Lady Fotherington!”
“Oh, my!”
“My goodness!”
“What a charming girl, indeed,” said the fourth lady, and they all beamed at me.
Stepmama looked ready to swoon from sheer anguish.
“And how is dear Lady Fotherington, Mrs. Stephenson?” the tallest lady asked her.
“Well …” Stepmama swallowed visibly. “Last time I saw her, she was quite well. …”
I had to bite my lip to hold back laughter. I didn’t want to incite Stepmama into a Spasm right in the middle of the Pump Room.
The ladies were all looking at me again. “Miss Katherine must be too young to be presented to Society yet—”
“Oh, no,” Stepmama said hastily. “She is still only twelve. She has at least five years to wait for her debut.”
Thank goodness, she might as well have added, judging by her tone. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. Stepmama couldn’t dread my debut any more than I did.
“Her sister, however”—Stepmama directed a penetrating glare at Angeline—“will be making her Society debut here in Bath.”
Instead of arguing, Angeline smiled. I could see that Stepmama wasn’t relieved by that smile either.
Luckily, none of the ladies around us knew Angeline’s smiles the way Stepmama and I did. “How exciting it must all seem to her,” said the oldest lady. “And with such a pretty face and figure—brunettes are quite the rage this year, you know, and if her dowry … ?” Her voice trailed off suggestively.
Stepmama lowered her own voice and leaned forward. “Her brother-in-law, Mr. Reginald Collingwood, has been kind enough to settle quite substantial dowries upon both girls,” she murmured.
“Ah.” All four of the ladies rustled with pleasure. “Well, then …”
“Sub
stantial” wasn’t the word Stepmama had used before, when she’d told us about the dowries. I slid a glance at Angeline, but she wasn’t looking at me—or at anyone else in our group, for that matter. Her eyelids were lowered discreetly, but I could have sworn she was searching the crowd around us for someone in particular. I frowned.
“If you would excuse us,” Angeline said, “Kat has been suffering from a headache this morning, and I am told the water of Bath—”
“Of course, my dear.” Mrs. Wingate smiled graciously upon us both. “You will find the water being sold by the pump, over there. Meanwhile, I must take your stepmama and papa to sign the guest book so that the Master of Ceremonies will know you’ve all arrived.”
“Thank you so much,” Angeline murmured in her sweetest tone. She closed her fingers around my arm in a grip of steel. “Come, Kat. I’m sure your head will feel much better soon.”
I let her lead me away, but as soon as we were out of hearing range, I said, “Why couldn’t you be the one with the headache? Stepmama knows I wouldn’t be so missish.”
Angeline was openly scanning the crowd now, in a way that both Stepmama and Elissa would have condemned as horribly improper and unladylike. She didn’t bother to look at me as she replied. “Yes, but Stepmama would have been far more suspicious if I’d tried to leave on my own. That’s why I couldn’t leave you behind, much as I might like to.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I can tell you’re scheming something, but if you don’t explain it to me, I won’t be able to help you with Stepmama.”
Angeline’s voice chilled. “Have you already forgotten what you admitted to me this morning? Trust me, Kat, I wouldn’t accept your help in a thousand years, even if you went down on your knees to beg forgiveness.”
I yanked my arm away. “That is never going to happen.”
“Well then.” Angeline led me to the pump where glasses of water were being sold. “Drink your water and leave me alone.” She slammed a glass into my hand.
I sniffed the cloudy water and wrinkled my nose. Healing properties, indeed! It smelled like rotten eggs, and bubbles popped across its surface. I forced myself to take a dainty sip, though, and didn’t let myself gag on the rancid, sulfur-flavored heat of it. Instead, I smiled as sweetly as Angeline herself could have done, and offered her the cup.
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