by Jane Ashford
He piled a plate and ate. He requested a pot of tea that he didn’t want. He talked to Georgina’s father and then to Randolph when he appeared. He endured his brother’s speculations on the nature of the coming ritual and refused his invitation to take a brisk walk. He almost had to push Randolph from the room in the end.
Deciding that his lurking was beginning to look peculiar, and realizing that he didn’t wish to meet Emma and Hilda, Sebastian went out into the corridor. A nonchalant scout of the surrounding area yielded an empty parlor. With the door open a crack, he could observe the entry to the breakfast room and be ready to pounce, while also avoiding irrelevant personnel.
Upstairs, Georgina lingered in the schoolroom, which was just down the hall from Joanna’s bedchamber. As far as she could see, it had fallen completely out of use since Joanna’s revelations. There were no signs of lessons being done or projects under way. Hilda must be delighted. Still, the abandonment was fortunate for Georgina. She could keep watch from here, spotting Joanna as soon as she rose.
When a housemaid came in to dust and asked if she needed anything, Georgina said that she was looking for a particular book. She had to stand at the shelves pretending to search, straining her ears for sounds from the corridor, until the girl was finished. This earned her a few curious glances.
Returning to her post, Georgina watched the corridor. It appeared that Joanna was sleeping later than usual, perhaps recruiting her strength for tonight. Or perhaps she was busily composing more ritual behind her closed door. Mama was going to have to speak to her eventually, Georgina thought. Everyone would probably be happier if Mama made other arrangements for Hilda’s education. Joanna could… What would she do? She was so changed. She seemed totally unlike the woman Georgina had admired as a young girl. She couldn’t expect to stay on as a…resident priestess. They would have to find her some congenial place. Georgina tried to think of one that might suit her, and failed.
At last, the door down the hall opened and Joanna emerged, her trailing sleeves brushing the floor as she walked. Georgina craned her neck, but she couldn’t see the key Joanna used to lock up. She waited a few minutes to be sure Joanna wasn’t coming right back and then hurried out to begin trying her keys.
Sebastian spotted Miss Byngham as she came down the corridor toward the breakfast room. Thinking strategically, he didn’t accost her then. She’d be occupied with her meal for a while, and waiting until she finished would stretch out the time. Hilda was in there; no telling how long they might talk. He checked his pocket watch to begin tracking Georgina’s hour. He hoped to give her more than that.
Georgina tried three keys without success. A maid came along carrying a pile of laundry—thankfully, not the same one who’d been dusting—and she had to pretend she was going into the schoolroom. Once the coast was clear, she managed three more attempts before she had to duck in there again. Her pulse had started to speed up. None of the keys had shown any sign of working. If she had to try more than ten, she might run out of time.
* * *
Miss Byngham came out of the breakfast room a mere twenty minutes after she’d entered—a quick eater, seemingly. Sebastian stepped out of the parlor and into her path. “Good morning,” he said heartily. “I wondered if I might speak to you.”
She looked surprised. They hadn’t really conversed beyond polite nothings.
“It’s just that I have a few questions about the, er, ritual this evening.” He and Georgina had agreed that this approach would make sense to Miss Byngham and flatter her as well.
“Of course,” she replied graciously. “How may I aid you?”
Sebastian retreated into the parlor, drawing Miss Byngham along with him. He didn’t want to be caught by Hilda, or anyone else, in the middle of his delaying action. He made a production of ushering her to a seat. “Is that comfortable?” he asked. When she blinked at him, he realized he was laying it on too thick in his efforts to draw things out. He sat opposite her and said, “I’m not sure what I’m meant to be doing tonight.”
She gave him a benign smile. “As I’ve mentioned, the purpose of our ritual is to weave you into the Stane family.”
“Not sure what that means,” replied Sebastian, quite sincerely. “I’m a bit slow, I suppose.”
“Not at all. It is an area almost universally neglected in our place and time. Think of it: all over England people are marrying. Through the ceremonies, they acquire a host of new relatives with little more than a handshake or a curtsy to introduce them. And then they are expected to look upon these strangers as part of their families.”
She actually had a point, Sebastian thought. Which didn’t mean that her approach to the issue was sensible. “But how does it work?” he said. “Your…weaving?” He tried a joke. “Sounds like Stane and I will be twisted in knots together.”
Miss Byngham did not appear to appreciate the humor. “Not at all. There will be no…twisting involved.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Sebastian. “I’m a bit nervous about my part.”
“You needn’t worry about anything,” she replied. “The words you speak, within the context of the ritual, will create the bond.” She gathered her skirts to rise. “I should go. There are still many preparations to make.”
They’d only been in the parlor ten minutes, Sebastian saw. “But…” he said desperately.
Miss Byngham looked at him, brows raised.
What could he say? “I thought…that is, shouldn’t I…er, get into the right frame of mind beforehand?”
“No special preparation is required, Lord Sebastian. Simply clear your mind.” Her tone suggested that she didn’t believe there would be many thoughts to move out of the way. She rose and turned toward the door.
* * *
The lock clicked, and Georgina let out a sigh of relief. Of course it was the very last of the keys she’d chosen that finally did the trick. She slipped into Joanna’s room, shutting the door behind her. After a moment’s debate, she relocked it, leaving the key in the hole. The heavy ring made it droop a bit.
Georgina looked around the room. She remembered her governess’s quarters as a model of spare tidiness. What surrounded her now was the opposite. Colorful fabric scraps left over from Joanna’s new sleeves adorned every surface, including the floor. Stacks of books from the castle library sat here and there, interspersed with discarded boots and gloves and empty teacups. Several millinery projects, along the lines of the headdress Joanna had shown her days ago, added to the chaos. How was she going to find anything in this clutter?
Georgina stood in the center of the chamber and turned slowly, scanning each pile. The materials for the ritual had to be somewhat organized. It was tonight after all. Joanna must have everything ready.
She went over to the small writing desk under one of the windows. Papers littered the top and lay in drifts around it. Georgina riffled through them, reading a few words on each one before letting it fall. They all seemed to be notes rather than a finished piece.
* * *
He had to think of something else to say, Sebastian thought. “Wait!”
Miss Byngham turned back, staring at the urgency of his tone.
“The thing is…” he said. What came next? “I’m…I’m rather…afraid I’ll botch it.” That was the ticket. Besides being perfectly true, the threat to her production was bound to worry her. “I’m not much for public speaking. Soldier, you know.” He didn’t have to feign concern. Despite Georgina’s help, he was apprehensive. It seemed all too likely that he’d make a fool of himself tonight, if not worse.
“You won’t be speaking, Lord Sebastian,” the governess replied soothingly. “Merely reading a short passage. There is no possibility of making a mistake.”
Here was another case of what his brother Robert called irony, Sebastian thought. There was no “merely reading” for him. “Yes, but everybody will be looki
ng at me,” he said.
“All of us will be in an exalted state,” she answered. “The opening of the ritual will assure that. There will be no problems. Now I really must go.” She moved toward the half-open door.
What the devil was an “exalted state”? Sebastian wondered. But she was escaping him. And the hour hadn’t passed, not nearly.
All the pages around the desk held only fragments or gibberish. Georgina nearly despaired as she reached the bottom of the last pile. Perhaps some of them were parts of the ritual, but she’d seen nothing that seemed complete. Feeling uncomfortable, she peeked into Joanna’s wardrobe. Only clothes. Once again, she turned in a circle in the center of the room. Where could it be? She’d been in here more than twenty minutes. And she had to copy the passage once she found it. If she found it. No, she had to. She would not fail Sebastian.
“Exalted,” repeated Sebastian. It wasn’t a word he was accustomed to hearing in the course of a conversation. “Just so.” Miss Byngham was going. He had to stop her. “But…but…however did you get this idea in the first place?”
A spark of enthusiasm lit his companion’s eyes. She stepped closer to him. “It is amazing, is it not? Until that memorable occasion under the guidance of Mr. Mitra, I had never before experienced pure inspiration. Did you not feel it yourself? The mystic connection to the past?”
“Not as you did.” Which was not as Mitra meant them to, Sebastian remembered. He’d certainly felt something odd, though.
Miss Byngham waved a hand. “Well, there are many different degrees of sensitivity, I imagine. And of course, I have years of research behind me.”
“Right.”
She looked expectant. He floundered for a reply.
Just when Georgina was about to despair, she noticed a small wooden chest sitting on a shelf in the corner. Richly inlaid, it looked familiar, something she’d seen about the house. It was certainly a new addition here. Striding over she took it down and set it on the desk. There was a keyhole. If the thing was locked… But it wasn’t. It opened under her hands. No doubt the key had been lost long ago.
Inside, she found a sheaf of papers tied together with a red ribbon. A moment’s reading told her that she’d discovered her quarry at last. This was the ritual. Paging through it, she found the section she wanted. It was longer than she’d hoped. Praying that she would have enough time, Georgina cleared a space on the desk and sat down to write. She’d left nothing to chance, but had brought pen, ink, and paper with her in a small cloth bag.
“But…never anything like this before, in your research?” Sebastian managed.
Miss Byngham drifted further back toward him. “No. Although I have yearned. Perhaps you’ve come across Mr. Wordsworth’s ‘Ode: Intimations of Immortality’?”
“Uh, no.” Sebastian didn’t much care for this talk of yearning. Or intimations. Whatever they might be.
She didn’t seem surprised at his ignorance. “It is quite a recent publication. A work of genius, I may add. When I discovered it, I was…ravished.”
She waved her arms in a wide arc. Sebastian edged away. Ravishment was even worse than yearning.
“I’ve always felt that there would be more to my life than teaching,” Miss Byngham continued. “A greater destiny. One can foresee these things, don’t you think?”
“Er… I…” He was losing control of the conversation, Sebastian thought. If he’d ever had it.
“You yourself might have imagined finding a link to an ancient past? Coming from such an illustrious family?”
“No,” he answered with complete sincerity.
“Ah, well.” She bowed her head as if sorry for him and made a little motion with one hand. He couldn’t tell if it was meant as a blessing or a dismissal. “I beg your pardon, Lord Sebastian, but I really must go.” This time she didn’t wait for a reply, but hurried from the room.
Practically sweating with the effort he’d made, Sebastian checked his watch. He’d managed the hour, but only just. He hoped it would be enough. He thought of following Miss Byngham, but what would he say if she noticed? He’d run out of ideas. He couldn’t tackle her in an upstairs corridor to rescue Georgina. Still, perhaps he ought to try. He stepped out into the hall.
“You missed a very pleasant walk,” said Randolph at his back.
Sebastian jumped like a startled hare and whirled on his brother.
Randolph took a step back. “Sebastian, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing. You took me by surprise, that’s all.”
“You look like you’ve been harried to death.”
“No, I don’t.”
Randolph examined him, then shrugged. “The thought of this…event tonight seems to be making everyone a bit skittish.”
“I am not skittish,” said Sebastian. A door slammed in the upper regions, and he started again. Was it a sign that Georgina had been caught? Should he rush to help her?
“Obviously,” replied his brother dryly.
There was no further sound, no uproar floating down the staircase.
Randolph put a comradely hand on his arm. “Sebastian, tell me again. You’re not sorry to be marrying into this family, are you? Because you know I would help you disengage…”
“No!”
“All right. There’s no need to shout at me.”
“I must…I need something from my room,” declared Sebastian. He’d patrol the corridors, make certain nothing had gone wrong. Leaving Randolph staring, he strode off.
“What are you up to?”
Georgina jumped. She whirled to find her brother observing her from the end of the corridor. Had he seen her relock Joanna’s room? She tried to judge from his expression. “Nothing,” she replied.
“Oh, come,” He strolled toward her. “I’ve seen that look before. You’re plotting something. Is it to do with this silly ritual tonight? I wouldn’t mind helping you.”
“No, I’m not. I was…just going to get something from the schoolroom.” She should have used another excuse. If Edgar and the maids ever compared notes—which was thankfully unlikely—her behavior was going to be judged very odd.
“Really? What?” Edgar demanded.
“Just a book.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Georgina summoned all the dignity of an older sister who had wiped his sticky face after an indulgence in sweets and helped him down when he got stuck in a tree. “Whyever not?”
“What’s in the bag?” Edgar demanded.
Georgina clutched it to her side. It clanked.
Joanna came around the corner, stopping in surprise when she found the two of them practically at her bedchamber door.
Georgina jumped in before either of the others could speak. “Oh, Joanna, there you are. Edgar was looking for you. He has some suggestions for the ritual.”
“Suggestions?” Joanna bridled and frowned at Edgar. “What sort of suggestions?”
Edgar glared at Georgina. He silently mouthed, I will get you for this.
“You’ll have to ask him,” Georgina said. Suppressing a spurt of laughter—more relief than amusement—she fled. Moments later, she stood with her back to her bedchamber door, heart pounding. It was over; she’d done it. She leaned there for the space of a few deep breaths.
When she’d calmed down a bit, she took the page she’d scrawled in Joanna’s room over to her own writing desk. She needed to reinscribe the passage while it was fresh in her mind. She’d been writing so fast that some of it was barely legible. Then she’d go and find Sebastian. Dropping into the chair, she laughed again as she reached for her pen.
“You’re really good at this,” Georgina said to Sebastian some hours later. Afternoon light poured through one of the slitted windows in the old stone tower. They’d carried two cane chairs up to the second level, where they were unlikely to be disturbed, and
settled to go over the words Georgina had copied. Above their heads, Mr. Mitra sat with a book, wrapped in several shawls against the chill, and ignoring them and all preparations for the evening’s event.
“I’ve had to be,” Sebastian replied.
Georgina looked at him with tender curiosity. “What did you do about written examinations at school?”
Sebastian grimaced at the memory. “Nothing I could do. I did try to explain to one of the masters, but he just thought I was a shirker.” He shrugged. “I was one of the best on the playing fields, which counts for a lot at school. But everyone soon saw that I was stupid otherwise. Nobly born numbskull was the phrase, I believe.” He hid the hurt and humiliation the label could still rouse.
Georgina put a hand on his arm. “You are not stupid, Sebastian. I forbid you to say that ever again.”
He put his hand over hers, still scarcely believing his luck. “Sometimes I got a younger boy to read bits aloud to me. Told them it was good practice.”
“For what?”
He shrugged again. “Pulpit, parliament, classroom. Didn’t matter. And then I’d go and spout it back to a teacher, show him I knew a bit about his subject.”
“That was very clever of you.”
“I don’t know. It seemed to annoy most of ’em. I expect they would have thrown me out if I hadn’t been a duke’s son and had so many brothers coming along behind me to pay their fees.” Despite the pain of these memories, Sebastian felt an amazing freedom and lightness at saying such things out loud. It was as if Georgina had brought light to a place inside him that had always been shrouded in darkness.
She picked up the page and held it before her. “Try it again.”
Sebastian recited the words she’d read him.
“That’s perfect.” She shook her head, gesturing at the writing. “I could never learn all this so quickly. Indeed, I’m not sure I could do it at all.”