It knocked me a foot backward along the tiled floor, shaking my hand loose from Lucy’s. I skidded and almost fell. My palm burned as if the magic had flamed me. “What—what—?”
“No one has cast a spell for you to break,” Mr. Gregson said. “This magic has not been merely filtered into the world through a witch’s spell or a Guardian’s working. It is uncontrolled and operating entirely of its own volition. That is an extraordinarily rare and dangerous phenomenon.”
Massaging my sore palm, I looked down at Lucy. “But what can we do about it?”
“Absolutely nothing, at the moment.” Mr. Gregson rose to his feet. “I shall research the matter in the Order’s library, and see if any similar situations have ever been successfully reversed. In the meantime, we must see her back to a safe place.”
I scrambled up to my feet. “But what am I going to tell everybody? Her mother and sister won’t understand—”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Mr. Gregson said, and looked at me, for once, without a hint of sympathy. “You’ve always been good at wild stories.”
Fifteen
It was no easy task to carry Lucy all the way across Bath to the Wingates’ townhouse, even with Mr. Gregson bearing most of her weight and maintaining our invisibility. Of course, he didn’t know that I could have done that part myself, but I didn’t see any reason to volunteer the information—not after everything he’d said to me that night. Still, between the strain on my protesting arm muscles, the exertion of keeping our unwieldy procession out of the way of all the groups we passed on the city pavements, and, worst of all, the sheer, unmitigated aggravation of Mr. Gregson’s cold silence, I was ready to collapse by the time we finally arrived at the townhouse.
First, though, I had to find Lucy’s bedroom, tuck her into bed, see Mr. Gregson out the side door with cold civility, and make my way back, to the room I shared with Angeline. I was so exhausted by the end of it, I fell straight into bed without even bothering to change into my nightgown. I was just in time.
The others arrived home from the Assembly Rooms less than five minutes later. For once, I was too tired to even try to eavesdrop on the hissing, undervoiced lecture Stepmama delivered to Angeline just outside our closed bedroom door. I had already blown the bedside candle out. As Angeline stepped inside, I pulled the covers over my head to keep out any light from the corridor. I was asleep before she’d even gotten into bed.
But when I woke up the next morning, I knew my troubles had only just begun.
Lucy. Before I even opened my eyes, it all came back to me. The wild magic filling Lucy’s eyes with sparks of golden light … I scrambled out of bed, heading straight for the door.
Angeline’s voice stopped me halfway across the room. “What on earth have you been up to?”
I turned. She was sitting up in bed, her arms propped on her pillows, watching me with an expression that looked anything but tired. Curses.
“Everything’s fine,” I said, and reached for the door handle. “I’m just—”
“You are wearing your pelisse,” said Angeline.
“Oh.” I glanced down at the crumpled pelisse, half-unbuttoned over my even more crumpled gown from last night. Automatically, I tried to smooth them both down. It didn’t work. “Ah, that’s only—”
“You went to sleep in it,” Angeline said, and narrowed her eyes at me like an Indian cobra preparing for the kill.
I swallowed, frozen in her cobra glare. “Um … I was cold?”
She arched one eyebrow. “Indeed. So you went all the way downstairs to find your pelisse instead of using the spare blanket in the cupboard beside the bed.”
“Well …” I bounced on my toes. I didn’t have time for this! “The truth is, I went out for a walk last night, after all of you left. I wasn’t tired, and I wanted some exercise.”
“You went for a walk,” Angeline said evenly. “In the middle of Bath. At night.”
“I told you so, didn’t I?” I turned and reached for the door handle. “I know, I know, it was a stupid thing to do, but I didn’t get hurt, and I have to go now, so—”
“Give it up, Kat,” Angeline said. “I know exactly what you did last night.”
“You do?” I turned back around to stare at her. “How?”
“Because it is painfully obvious.” She sighed. “You followed us to the Assembly Rooms to spy on me. That’s why you didn’t have time to change into your nightgown—you must have left the moment you saw us call for our cloaks, and then you ran all the way home to get here before me.” She shook her head. “You are completely ridiculous, do you know that? Were you at least satisfied by what you saw?”
“Uh …” My mind raced. I said, “Yes?”
“Ha.” Angeline crossed her arms. “Well, then, you’ll be happy to know that today you aren’t going to have to resort to any such tricks in order to spy on me. Today, I’m going to let you come with me.”
“Fine,” I said. “Later. I’ll go anywhere you like, but first—”
“We’re going to the Baths.”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t speak.
“Well, don’t just stare at me!” Angeline said. “I’m sure you noticed the Baths. They’re just around the corner from the Pump Room.”
“Why are we going to the Baths?” My voice came out as an agonized squeak. Had she been involved last night too? Was my entire family going to turn into a band of crazed Minerva-worshippers? “If Charles talked you into this—”
“Charles?” She blinked. “What does Charles have to do with anything?”
I had to be certain. “He didn’t suggest that you go to the Baths? Last night—”
“Charles disappeared partway through the evening and only came back just in time to leave with the rest of us,” Angeline said, “by which point he was far too foxed to speak a word of sense to me or anybody else. He has nothing to do with this. You do.”
“How?”
She smiled like a cat who had just seen a whole bowl full of delicious cream belonging to someone else … and was getting ready to lick up every last drop of it herself. “You, darling Kat, have been feeling most unwell. Remember? That’s why you had to leave the Pump Room with such immoderate speed yesterday morning. That’s why you drank the Bath water in the first place.”
“Ah …”
“So I am going to be a good, kind sister and take you to the Baths for your health. For which no one could possibly blame me.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Why would you want to?”
“I just do,” Angeline said, and shrugged. “Call it a whim.”
Call it a wild story, I thought, and snorted. I didn’t have time to pursue it any further, though. So I only said, “Can you swear to me that this has nothing to do with Sulis Minerva?”
Angeline looked at me as if I were mad. “With whom?”
“Never mind,” I said, and fled through the bedroom door into the corridor outside.
I was heading for Lucy’s bedroom, on the other side of the staircase, but a shriek from downstairs brought me to a halt. It sounded like Maria’s voice, and it was followed by a bellow so massive and so undignified, I would never have imagined it coming from Mrs. Wingate:
“Lu-ceee!”
Oh, Lord. I turned and ran for the stairs.
Stepmama caught me partway down. Even before her lace cap bobbed into view below me, she had already begun her lecture. “Katherine,” she said in her most long-suffering tone, “how many times must I be forced to tell you that running is not ladylike—ohh!” We came into full view of each other, and she gasped. “What on earth have you been doing?”
“Nothing,” I said, and hurried the rest of the way down to where she blocked the staircase. “Sleeping. But I’m very hungry now, so I thought I would find breakfast, and then—”
“Your gown—your pelisse!” I thought Stepmama might swoon with horror. She took the crumpled sleeve of my pelisse in her hand and gazed at it as soulfully as if it were an inju
red puppy. “How could you have ruined your clothing this early in the morning?”
I shrugged off her arm. I could hear Maria’s voice gabbling incomprehensibly from the direction of the breakfast room, on the floor just below us.
“Please,” I said. “I am very hungry, so if I could just—”
“Not until you’ve marched back up to your room and changed into something appropriate!” Stepmama pointed up the staircase like an avenging angel. “I don’t want to see you down here again until you are wearing a clean and neatly pressed morning gown and—”
“Oh, for—”
“No, Katherine!” She lifted her chin and glared at me. “Firstly, the Wingates are having a private family discussion at the moment”—there was a crash from the breakfast room—“and do not require any company. And second of all”—she looked me up and down and shuddered—“you will not embarrass our entire family by appearing in such a state in the Wingates’ breakfast room today or any other day. Did you even brush your hair this morning?”
I ground my teeth. A second crash, even louder than the first, sounded in the breakfast room, accompanied by more shrieks from Maria. I looked longingly past Stepmama’s rigid figure. “Please! If I absolutely swear to change my clothing directly afterward …”
The door to the library cracked open, just beside the breakfast room. The noise from the Wingates’ argument must have driven Papa out of his refuge. His expression as he poked his head out from the library looked distinctly hunted. But when he saw us on the steps just above him, and took in Stepmama’s threatening position, he looked positively horrified. He hastily drew back, like a turtle retreating into his shell.
“Ah, I do beg your pardon, my dears. I’ll just—”
“George!” Stepmama said, and swiveled so that her accusing finger pointed straight at him. “Do you see what your daughter has done this time?”
Her distraction was exactly what I needed. I leaped forward, sliding between her and the wall and ignoring her gasp of outrage. Papa only closed his eyes with an expression of pain as I whisked straight past him.
“Katherine Ann Stephenson, get back here now!” Stepmama hissed.
But it was too late. I was already pushing open the door to the breakfast room and the chaos inside.
Shattered china covered the ornate Chinese carpet. The heavy polished wooden table lay toppled on its side, spilling toast and jam and coffee everywhere. Maria stood flattened against one wall, eyes wild; Mrs. Wingate was puce with outrage against another … and Lucy stood in the middle of the chaos, blinking out at us all with innocent confusion.
Wild magic filled the room, sparking off my skin. I sidled in as carefully as if I were approaching a bull in his own field.
The Wingates didn’t even seem to notice me or Stepmama, who arrived behind me a moment later and stopped dead in the open doorway. Needless to say, Papa did not accompany her.
“Good heavens,” Stepmama said weakly. “What has happened here?”
Lucy’s lip quivered. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Maria got there first.
“It was Lucy!” she said, and pointed.
Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. She let out a sob, but didn’t speak.
Stepmama looked doubtfully at the toppled table. “But—surely Miss Lucy isn’t strong enough to—”
“You think that because you don’t know the worst!” Maria said. Her hair was disheveled, straggling from its pins and dusted with specks of broken china, but her face was pinched with righteous fury. “Not only is she wicked and shameless, she’s a—”
“Maria!” Mrs. Wingate said sharply.
Even as she spoke, three silver candlesticks flew off the sideboard and slammed straight into the wall by Maria’s head. I saw Lucy’s face crumple with horror, but her moan was buried by Maria’s shriek of shock and fury.
“That is quite enough, young lady!” Mrs. Wingate gathered herself up and glowered at Lucy. “Bad enough to have disgraced yourself in front of your own family. Bad enough to frighten your own sister and behave like a hoyden who can never, ever be allowed in public. But to disgrace us all with your shame in front of our guests—”
“I didn’t mean to!” Lucy said. “Mama, please! Truly, I didn’t—”
“Silence!” Mrs. Wingate thundered. “There is nothing you could say that would excuse your behavior. Never has such a scandal been known in our family! That I should live to see my own daughter reveal herself to be”—her face quivered with disgust, as if she could barely bring herself to even form the words—“a witch!”
Stepmama fell back against the door. “Ohhh,” she moaned softly. “Oh—”
“You see?” Maria added. “You’ve shocked Mrs. Stephenson, too. Everyone will be shocked! When they find out the truth about you—”
But I met Stepmama’s gaze, and I knew what she was really thinking. Seen only by me, Stepmama’s lips formed the unmistakable question: Kat, what have you done?
I sighed. It was time to take charge of the situation.
“No one will find out the truth,” Mrs. Wingate was saying heavily. “Because Lucy will be sent away. She—”
“Lucy,” I said, and crossed the room quickly to take her hands. It was just in time, too—one of the fallen chairs was just beginning to rise from the floor, its jerky, spinning motion matching Lucy’s agitation. I bit back a gasp as our skin touched. The wild magic burned my hands. When our eyes met, though, the chair slowly lowered itself to the ground. Lucy clung to my hands. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears. I said, speaking loudly and clearly for everyone around us to hear, “You look so unwell!”
“I do?” She blinked at me, and I narrowed my eyes at her purposefully. “I feel fi—,” she began, but I squeezed her hands hard and glared at her, and she gasped. “Oh!” she said. “I mean, I do feel unwell. Actually.” She slid a frightened glance at her mother.
“Very unwell,” I said firmly, and was careful not to look at anyone else, even though I could feel them all watching me. “Let me support you before you faint.”
“Um—thank you?” Lucy leaned tentatively against me.
I tucked her head into my shoulder. Under the cover of her hair, I hissed, “Faint! Quickly!”
“Oh!” Lucy sighed, and fell fully into my arms with all the gusto of a full-fledged romantic heroine.
I staggered. “Oh, do help me—someone, please—”
The Wingates only stared at me from their different sides of the room, but Stepmama hurried across the room to join us. Color rose high in her cheeks, and I knew I would hear more about this later, but for now, she took Lucy’s other arm and half her weight.
“She needs to be laid down on a couch,” said Stepmama. “Does anyone have any smelling salts?”
Lucy twitched at the suggestion. I kicked her ankle, and she subsided.
“Shall we take her to the drawing room?” Stepmama suggested. “Or—”
“She is not going into the drawing room!” Maria said. “Only imagine, Mama, if anyone should come to call—”
“It isn’t to be thought of,” Mrs. Wingate said. “No, you may put the girl in her own room, where she belongs. And then lock the door!”
Stepmama frowned and opened her mouth as if to argue. Then she shut it tightly. When she spoke again, after a moment’s pause, her voice was mild but her cheeks were even more flushed. “Very well,” she said submissively. “But perhaps a doctor—”
“No doctors,” said Mrs. Wingate. “We shall not discuss our family’s shame with—”
“No doctors?” said Angeline. She was standing in the doorway. We all swung around at the sound of her voice. She stood there looking as innocent as snow—but I hadn’t heard the door open, and I wondered how long she had stood there watching us before she had decided it was time to speak.
She stepped into the room now, looking kindly at Lucy’s limp figure. “Poor Cousin Lucy,” she said. “No, of course you don’t want to call a doctor. I have a much better idea. Kat and I we
re already planning a healthful trip to the Baths this morning, weren’t we, Kat?”
“Well …,” I said.
“There, now.” She smiled sunnily at Mrs. Wingate’s puce face. “What a delightful notion. The Baths are so unfashionable nowadays, you know, that no one of any consequence will be there, and this distressing little illness will be sorted out immediately. I promise you, ma’am, we shall take very good care of Lucy. It will be just the thing for her.”
Sixteen
The Bath house in the morning was very different from the dark, echoey place it became at night. The baths might not be popular or fashionable anymore, but there was still a steady trickle of invalids flowing into the building along with us, and there was a whole flotilla of officious attendants lying in wait for visitors, whether we wanted their help or not. Three cloth-women led us into a changing room on the ground floor and took our measurements for special bathing gowns made of bilious yellow linen. There was no sign of any rowdy young men or other Minerva-worshippers in the warm, firelit changing room, and the baths’ own wild magic was so muted I could scarcely feel it.
Lucy’s skin still sparked with wild magic, though, and the closer we came to the baths themselves, the stronger and sharper the sparks became, until it hurt to hold her hand. I gritted my teeth and kept a firm grip anyway. Beneath the brim of her fashionable bonnet, her eyes looked like a frightened doe’s, and the last thing I needed was her agitation getting the better of her. If the wild magic took over again in a public place, Mrs. Wingate would probably have her locked up forever.
I only let go of Lucy’s hand so that my cloth-woman could pull the hideous linen bathing gown over my arms. As soon as I could see again, the first thing I did was look for Lucy. She was having her own gown put on, and so far, nothing in the room seemed to be spinning or lifting of its own volition. I let out a very small sigh, but didn’t let myself relax. We still had to see what would happen in the baths.
Angeline, of course, looked like a queen being served by her attendant, serene and untroubled by any worries, as her own bathing gown was buttoned up. Naturally, Angeline thought she’d done a marvelously good deed by helping Lucy escape the house for a few hours—but then, Angeline hadn’t seen the wild magic in action. She assumed that Lucy was just another witch who’d foolishly lost control of her temper. Her only response to the chaos in the breakfast room, as we’d bundled Lucy out of the house, had been a softly spoken comment in Lucy’s ear that had left Lucy looking even more lost and bewildered than ever. There had been no way to explain the truth to my aggravating older sister on our way through the crowded streets of Bath, so I hadn’t yet been able to knock the smug look off her face.
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