“I hadn’t noticed that I have been monopolizing him in any way.”
“Indeed, just as I’m sure you hadn’t noticed that Captain Branfort is a strapping fellow who cuts a fine figure in his regimental coat. Though he is something of a dwarf.”
She disengaged her arm from his. “He is no such thing, Mr. Rafferdy! I am sure he is half a head taller than me.”
Rafferdy, who was tall himself, took pleasure in her indignation. Mrs. Baydon always looked prettiest when she was animated.
“In his boots, perhaps,” he said. “But my point is proved. I knew you would come to the good captain’s defense. However, you needn’t worry, for I like him. He is stolid, modest, and honorable—all characteristics I admire and will never possess. I approve of him as I approve of drinking castor oil for the benefit of one’s health, or tutoring orphans for the benefit of one’s soul.”
“You have never drunk castor oil or tutored orphans in your life!”
“No, but I’m sure I would be a much better person if I had.” And he gave her a perfect imitation of one of Captain Branfort’s bows.
Despite her evident annoyance, she could not help but laugh at him, which had been his intent, and after a moment she deigned to take his arm again. They walked onward a bit, then came to a halt beside the large figure of a sphinx that stood beside a fireplace.
“It’s good to have you here tonight, Mr. Rafferdy,” she said. “Do not heed anything Lady Marsdel says, for you are much wanted. There’s such a surplus of gloom these days, what with all the news of rebels and outlaws coming closer to the city by the day, and your presence always enlivens things, even when you’re trying to be dreadful. I do wish you would show yourself more often.” Mrs. Baydon turned her blue gaze up at him. “Surely you know that she would be as glad to see you as I am on those occasions she is here. I have no doubt that it would increase her happiness.”
“I am sure you are mistaken,” he said. “For the last time I saw her, she was very happy.”
He recalled the day Mrs. Quent had received him and Eldyn Garritt at her house on Durrow Street. Her joy had been apparent in everything she did and said, and in every green-eyed glance she directed at her husband. She had, he had thought, never looked more beautiful.
“Indeed, she was perfectly happy,” he went on. “And since something that is perfect can never be improved upon, it is not possible that my presence could increase her happiness. Instead, there is only the chance it could decrease it. If one cannot help, but might possibly harm, what is the point in acting?”
Mrs. Baydon tucked a ringlet of gold hair behind her ear, and her nose wrinkled with a frown. “Whatever are you talking about, Mr. Rafferdy? You would never cause harm to anybody. You are quite incapable of it.”
He thought of the tenants he had removed from their houses at Asterlane, after his father had enclosed his estate. “We are all of us capable of harm, Mrs. Baydon, even if we do not intend it.” He made his tone lighter, not wanting to alarm her. “Ask the sphinx there if it is not so. I believe such creatures are said to tell only the truth.”
“Is that so?” Mrs. Baydon moved to the figure that crouched beside the fireplace. It was hewn of pitted limestone that bespoke countless years of sun and wind. Its nose had been knocked off in some other eon, before it was pulled from the sands of the Murgh Empire and brought to Altania, but its lapis eyes were intact. They gazed forward, sad and serene, as Mrs. Baydon bent and whispered in a stone ear. She made a little play of tilting her head by its mouth, then rose and regarded Rafferdy.
“Well,” he said, crossing his arms. “What doom did it pronounce?”
“It said, ‘The man who does the greatest harm is the man who does nothing at all.’ ”
Now it was his turn to frown. “I am sure it said no such thing. Where did you get such a notion? Have you been reading from Mr. Baydon’s broadsheets? I can’t see how one might cause harm if one does nothing it all.”
Her look was peevish. “I have been reading, and not from Mr. Baydon’s awful newspapers. I’ve been looking at a book of Tharosian philosophy to improve myself. You needn’t appear so shocked, you know.”
Rafferdy hastily shut his mouth. “Forgive me, Mrs. Baydon. That’s commendable. Certainly I have never occupied myself with so worthy an endeavor as reading philosophy. But be wary of placing too much stock in what the Tharosians thought. They all went extinct, you know, which means they couldn’t have been so wise after all.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. Ancient things can have worth, even if the people who made them are gone. Like this.” She touched the head of the sphinx. “It’s so somber and mysterious. Looking at it makes me realize how much I don’t know, and how much I wish I did know.” She gave him a defiant look. “Besides, I believe what I read is right. We all have the power to do harm, as you say, yet we have the capacity for good as well. So if you never do anything, it is as if you are undoing all of the good things you might have achieved in your life. Think of the harm of that.”
Rafferdy could only stare. He had never heard Mrs. Baydon speak with such passion about a topic other than puzzles or parties. “You astonish me,” he said at last. “I can only think it would be better if it was you who was going to occupy a seat in Assembly. I have no doubt, of the two of us, you would do more good.”
“And I have no doubt that you are mocking me!” she said, her cheeks brightening.
“Not in the least. In fact, I am certain you would choose better than most lords if you were to sit in the Hall of Magnates.”
“A woman can never sit in Assembly, Mr. Rafferdy.” She turned away from him, regarding the sphinx again. “So what use is there in reading and becoming wise? I will give the book back to Mrs. Quent the next time she calls. I should never have borrowed it.”
Now it was Rafferdy who was a little bit wiser. He should have guessed from what source sprang Mrs. Baydon’s desire to improve her mind. She was a clever young woman, but with a tendency to be impressionable.
All the same, her words unsettled him. He had felt a kind of noble pride for the way he had deprived himself of the presence of Mrs. Quent these last months. Each time he declined one of her invitations on the grounds that he was busy with his father’s affairs—whether that was the case or not—he had told himself it was for her benefit.
Except as he looked at Mrs. Baydon, he thought that her ancient philosophers would not have agreed. What if, by staying away, he was denying Mrs. Quent and her sisters company that, however inferior to what they missed during Mr. Quent’s absences, might still serve to entertain them and help pass the time until his return?
Even as he considered this, he knew it was not for her sake that he had been avoiding Mrs. Quent.
“My father has a figure just like this in his library at Asterlane,” he said, brushing a hand over the sphinx’s rough mane. “He and Lord Marsdel must each have brought one back from the Empire after they served there together, when they were young men in the army. I used to loathe looking at it as a boy. I felt it was staring at me, asking me questions I was sure I wouldn’t know how to answer. I suppose it was at that.”
Mrs. Baydon turned around, her expression now one of worry. “Have you heard any more news from the doctors?”
His hand slipped from the sphinx. “News? If it is news, then it is no more informative or cheering than what Mr. Baydon reads in the latest issue of The Comet. The only thing they know for certain is that it is a wasting malady. Each doctor who sees him proposes a unique remedy—not that these do anything except increase my father’s discomfort. However, as I am given to understand the purpose of a cure is to be more unbearable than the disease, each physician must consider himself a skilled practitioner of medicine.”
Mrs. Baydon did not smile at his jest. “I’m glad you went home to Asterlane last month, Mr. Rafferdy,” was all she said.
Rafferdy was not so certain he could say the same. Had it come to him in a letter, his father’s request
could have been declined with the swipe of a pen. Seeing him had been different. Half a year ago, Lord Rafferdy had been on the verge of corpulence; now he was gaunt, his cheeks sunken and his fingers like gray sticks. When he asked Rafferdy to occupy his seat in Assembly for the time being, Rafferdy’s every thought and desire had been to refuse. Instead, he had nodded and said yes.
The rap of a fan echoed across the parlor.
“I fear our absence has been noticed,” Mrs. Baydon said with a sigh.
He gave her a look of feigned alarm. “Then we’d best return before she looses the hounds.”
Now Mrs. Baydon did laugh, and she took his arm as they started back across the parlor.
“There you are, Mr. Rafferdy!” Lady Marsdel exclaimed as the two rejoined the rest of the party. “Whatever were you and Mrs. Baydon doing at the other end of the parlor? I cannot imagine it was anything important, and you have been needed here. No command I can issue seems to be enough to induce my nephews to cease their discussions of laws and acts and any other horrid thing they have read about in the broadsheets. You must convince them to speak of something else.”
He shook his head. “If you cannot make them do as you wish, your ladyship, I do not know what power I possess to accomplish it.”
“On the contrary, you have powers that we do not,” Mrs. Baydon said with a smile that suggested mischief. She glanced at Captain Branfort. “We have seen Mr. Rafferdy work spells before.”
“Is that so?” the captain said, raising an eyebrow.
“I was once induced by another, quite against my will, to perform some small parlor tricks, that’s all,” Rafferdy said, then gave Mrs. Baydon a withering look. “And as you know, that person is no longer in the city.”
Nor, Rafferdy thought, would he expect Mr. Bennick to return anytime soon—not after what had become of his former cronies in the Vigilant Order of the Silver Eye. While Rafferdy had not entirely spoken the truth to Captain Branfort—he had, in the end, performed feats of magick much greater than a few tricks—it made no difference. He had only worked magick at Mrs. Quent’s request and due to her grave need. Now that need was no more. He had spoken Mr. Lockwell’s spell and reestablished the binding on the Eye of Ran-Yahgren. At this point, Rafferdy intended to never do magick again.
“Well, perhaps you should find yourself a new teacher,” Mrs. Baydon said, not letting the topic drop, much to his vexation.
At this, Mr. Harclint sat up in his chair. “I should have thought of it before! Now that you are to take a place in Assembly, Mr. Rafferdy, you will surely make his acquaintance, for there is no one in that body who is more eminent. You must be sure to speak to Lord Farrolbrook at the earliest opportunity. I suppose he is in great demand, but it is said there is no one more skilled in magick.”
“By all Eternum, not that subject again,” Sir Earnsley exclaimed through a cloud of pipe smoke. “I had thought we were done with discussions of magick. I have had enough with these young men who fancy themselves to be magicians rather than take up proper occupations. It is nothing more than an affectation.”
“It is no such thing,” Mr. Harclint argued. “The ring Mr. Rafferdy wears proves it. A magician’s ring, once it is put on, can never be taken off. You could tug at it all you wish, Sir Earnsley, and it would never budge. That is hardly an affectation.” He gave a small sniff. “True, it is not the ring of House Myrrgon such as Lord Farrolbrook wears. But still, it is a ring of one of the seven Old Houses, which means Mr. Rafferdy is in fact a magician.”
Sir Earnsley blew a smoky breath through his mustache. “Well, if that is the case, then I am most displeased. When you left university, Mr. Rafferdy, I thought it was because you had gotten some sense. Yet that cannot be if you are pursuing things as frivolous as magick.”
“Magick is in no way frivolous, sir!” Mr. Baydon said, lowering a copy of The Comet. “Rather, it is the hope of Altania. The Quelling on the Wyrdwood was first worked by a magician long ago. So who else but magicians will be able to keep the Quelling in place and assure there are no more Risings?”
Sir Earnsley glowered at him. “So you are concerned about Risings now? I remember you speaking otherwise the last time I mentioned a word of warning about the Wyrdwood. As I recall, you termed it all superstition and codswallop. So now you believe me, I presume?”
Mr. Baydon tapped the front page of The Comet. “I believe this.”
“And I believe it is time for me to depart,” Rafferdy said before Sir Earnsley could offer another reply, “for I need some time before bed to digest both supper and her ladyship’s advice.”
In truth, it was this conversation he was having difficulty stomaching. It was wretched enough he would be forced to wear the House Gauldren ring for the rest of his life. He did not need to endure talk of it as well.
While he waited for his carriage, a plan was crafted for the day after Brightday, when the new session of Assembly would begin. It was decided Lord Baydon would come in his four-in-hand to retrieve Rafferdy at his house. With him would be Mr. Baydon, for he intended to observe the proceedings in the Hall of Magnates from the upper gallery. At this point, Mrs. Baydon announced that she was going to go as well, despite her previous assurances that nothing could make her attend such a dreary affair—a promise of which her husband reminded her.
“But it won’t be dreary if Mr. Rafferdy is there,” she said. “I hadn’t considered his being in attendance. Therefore my earlier promise is null, for it was based upon the idea of there being no amusement to be had, when now I am sure there will be plenty. I will sit with you in the gallery.”
“You do remember, Mrs. Baydon, it is the opening day of Assembly for the year,” Mr. Baydon said. “The king is to give his annual invocation. It is a great occasion, and very popularly attended. There might not be room for both of us to sit.”
“Well, if you must stand and sacrifice your chair for me, it is a small price to pay for something of such importance. Did you not stress earlier that I must endeavor to pay more attention to the affairs of the nation? I quite clearly remember you saying it. Don’t you, Mr. Rafferdy?”
He could only concede that he did remember it. Rafferdy would never lie to prevent another man’s discomfort—only his own.
“Then it is settled,” Mrs. Baydon said, clapping her hands. “I will wear my green dress with the gold brocade, and I’ll put on a blue sash—that should give me all the colors of the national banner. I will look very patriotic, don’t you think?” She glanced at Lady Marsdel. “Will you be attending as well? You could wear your emerald damask, the one with the gold thread, and I have another sash if you need it. We would look very smart together.”
“Here, here!” Lord Baydon exclaimed. “You will each be as fair as the island of Altania herself.”
However, Lady Marsdel would have no part of it. Women were never permitted in the Halls of Assembly proper, only in the gallery, and then only for special ceremonies such as this. Her ladyship had no interest in any affair that relegated her to its periphery.
A servant informed Rafferdy his carriage was ready. He removed a pair of gloves made of gray kidskin from his coat pocket. Wearing gloves was the latest mode among young gentlemen. It was a habit Rafferdy had taken up the very moment before it became popular.
He bowed to Lady Marsdel, then to her brother beside her on the sofa. “I will see you soon, Lord Baydon.”
“I am looking forward to it, Mr. Rafferdy. I am very curious to observe how you vote in Assembly.”
“Then I am afraid your curiosity is likely to be disappointed. It is my hope to avoid voting at all, for fear of making a ruin of Altania if I do. I am no magnate.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Rafferdy,” Lord Baydon replied jovially. “You’ll make for a fine young lord. Besides, I’m quite convinced you’re bound to save our fair island, not ruin it.”
As usual, Rafferdy did not share the elder man’s optimism. How could he presume to vote on the nation’s future when he could scarcely govern
his own? No, Mr. Baydon was right. It would be better for all concerned if he did nothing, and helped to pass no acts whatsoever. Rafferdy bowed again, then took his leave.
Yet as he departed the room, he had the peculiar sense that ancient eyes of lapis watched him as he went.
CHAPTER FOUR
THANK YOU, LAWDEN,” Ivy said as he helped her step from the cabriolet. “You may return the carriage to the livery. We won’t be needing it for the rest of the lumenal.”
The driver bowed and uttered a barely audible word of assent. Lawden was a crookedly built man afflicted with an overlarge nose, and he was quiet to the point that Ivy could only suppose speaking was a difficult endeavor. However, he was adept at avoiding potholes in the streets, and she had always observed him to be kind to the horses. Thus Ivy could offer no complaint.
As Lawden drove off, Ivy tucked a book of Tharosian philosophy under her arm, pushed through the gate, and headed up the walk. She stopped to pat the head of one of the stone lions that crouched on either side of the door, then entered the front hall.
At once, the noise assailed her. A great amount of thudding and pounding drifted from above, and the din was in no way ameliorated by the rumbling of Lily’s pianoforte. Ivy followed the ominous sounds of music into a chamber off the north end of the hall. In time it would serve as Mr. Quent’s study, but while the upstairs gallery was being refurbished, the room housed Lily’s pianoforte and served as their sitting room.
Rose occupied a sofa, petting Miss Mew. The little tortoiseshell cat was wild-eyed from all the noise and looked as if she would have bolted were it not for Rose’s soothing touch. Lily’s pretty oval face formed into a glower as she labored away at the lowest keys. Her music ceased as soon as she became aware of Ivy standing in the doorway.
“Avast, who’s there?” Lily exclaimed, then looked up with a grimace. “Well, sink me, you gave me quite a fright, Ivy. What with all the racket coming from upstairs, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you must be a specter sneaking in to peer at us.”
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