If that was so, she said, then she expected some recompense for allowing him to be away from her. He agreed, and as an advance payment he gave her a number of kisses before departing out the door.
Now, knowing Mr. Quent would not be at the inn, and expecting her sisters to be at the gardens, Ivy hoped to have an hour to make an examination of her father’s journal before it was time to ready herself to go to Lady Marsdel’s house, as she had been invited to tea that day.
However, upon her return to the inn, she discovered her sisters still there, and a glance at the old rosewood clock informed her that she had scant minutes to spare. She was not entirely certain the clock could be believed, but being late to her ladyship’s was not something Ivy cared to risk. So she threw on her green dress, made a few wild gestures with a hairbrush, and pinched her cheeks to bring a bit of color to them.
“I do not see why we can’t come with you,” Lily said, looking up from her book as Ivy entered the sitting room.
“You cannot come because you were not invited.”
“Well, I don’t know why I shouldn’t have been. After all, I’ve met Lady Marsdel on more than one occasion. Besides, you’ve been there a hundred times. It’s only fair that someone else gets to go.”
“It has been far fewer than a hundred times,” Ivy said, but gently.
Not for the first time, she was tempted to tell Lily about the plan for a party to present her and Rose to society. She had discussed it with Mr. Quent after his return to the city. However, due to the degree of excitement such news was likely to induce in Lily, they agreed that the information should be kept from her until a date was set.
This had not happened yet, as Mr. Quent wished to wait until he was certain he would not have need to travel for a time. As soon as he could be sure of a date he would be in the city, the party could be planned. That would give Lily something to look forward to. Until then, Ivy supposed she would have to endure more sighs and frowns.
“I hope you have a very happy time,” Rose said as she tried to entice Miss Mew with a bit of thread. “Tell Mr. Rafferdy hello for us if you see him.”
“Don’t tell him hello from me,” Lily said, raising her book before her face. “I am still very cross with him for the way he’s ignored us.”
“Very well,” Ivy said. “I will be sure to say hello from Rose only.”
The book came down again. “Great gods, Ivy, you can’t do that! How awful would you make me look? If you say hello for Rose, you must say hello from me as well.”
So directed, Ivy promised she would, though she had not seen Mr. Rafferdy at Lady Marsdel’s in a very long time, and she did not expect in any way that he would be there.
SHE WAS WRONG.
Upon entering the parlor at Fairhall Street Ivy saw a tall figure clad in an elegant coat of charcoal velvet standing by the fireplace. She had neither desire nor ability to suppress the smile that sprang to her lips. If she could have, she would have gone to him directly. However, she had hardly taken a step before Lady Marsdel’s voice rang out.
“It has been far too long since you have been here, Lady Quent. It has been a month, I am sure. Do not try to tell me it has been less! Now come this way at once. Mr. Rafferdy can suffer to wait a little while longer to be greeted by you, but I cannot.”
Mr. Rafferdy returned her smile. He nodded, a sparkle in his brown eyes, and he made a small gesture with his hand, so that the blue gem on it sparked as well. The message was clear: Her lady ship must be obeyed.
Ivy went to pay homage to Lady Marsdel. Her tiny puff of a dog perched on a pillow on her lap, its eyes as black and round as buttons.
“I heard news from Mrs. Baydon that you were ill,” Lady Marsdel said. “I did not think you had such a poor constitution, Lady Quent, to succumb to a malady again so soon after the last time. But then, you do not look poorly. Indeed, you appear quite well. I cannot imagine it was anything much at all. Certainly nothing to have kept you away for so long.”
Ivy assured her ladyship that, while she was now happily recovered, she had in fact been confined to chambers by order of her doctor.
“Well, it was very selfish of you to let yourself be caught in the rain,” Lady Marsdel went on. “I trust you will take better care of yourself from now on. You must not only think of yourself, Lady Quent. There are others who require you.”
“So they do,” Lord Baydon said, smiling. His smile became a sudden grimace as he sneezed into a handkerchief.
Ivy gave her meekest assurances that her ladyship’s advice would be followed. Lady Marsdel motioned for her to sit on the sofa beside her, and Ivy complied. She reached out to pet the little dog. It bared its teeth and emitted a growl, and she hastily withdrew her hand.
“Quit lurking there by the fireplace, Mr. Rafferdy!” Lady Marsdel called out. “I do not know where Mr. and Mrs. Baydon can be or why they presume that they can be late to tea. However, until they arrive to provide us with additional society, you must entertain us. What acts have you passed at Assembly of late? I hope you have made yourself useful.”
“Not in the least,” he said agreeably, sitting in a chair. “As Lord Baydon is my witness, I have not done one constructive thing in Assembly.”
“On the contrary,” Lord Baydon said, his voice hoarse after his sneezing fit, “you have helped me to my seat several times, Mr. Rafferdy. And that has been very useful to me.”
Lady Marsdel appeared unimpressed. “You must take your duties more seriously, Mr. Rafferdy. There is a great deal to be done. Do you know that a box of porcelain plates I ordered from the Principalities has failed to arrive? Now I have a letter from the importer telling me that the ship was harried by Murghese corsairs and was forced to dock in Torland. Nor will I ever see the porcelain now. You can be sure the Torlanders have made off with everything—though what people who choose to dwell in hovels should want with fine things, I cannot imagine.”
Mr. Rafferdy shrugged. “Perhaps they decided that if their plates are going to be empty, they might as well be pretty to look at.”
“And why should their plates be empty?”
“Because they have chosen guns over grain,” Mr. Baydon said, striding into the parlor. “Until the rebels at the border put down their arms, the king’s army is maintaining a blockade. And I say the soldiers should not let a single wagon of wheat into Torland. If you give a rat a crumb in the garden, then he will only come into the kitchen seeking a loaf. My only concern is that the king is not keeping nearly enough soldiers in the Outlands. You will do something about that, won’t you, Rafferdy?”
“On the contrary, I am going to propose to have the king send not soldiers, but a regiment of cats to Torland,” Mr. Rafferdy said with a grave look. “Perhaps that will solve the problem with the rats.”
“Now you’re being willfully absurd, Mr. Rafferdy.”
“One is always willfully absurd, Mr. Baydon. If one does not say silly things with a purpose, then he is merely an idiot.”
Lady Marsdel opened her fan for the sole purpose that she could then snap it shut. “You are late,” she said to her nephew and his wife.
“Captain Branfort took us for a drive all the way around the city,” Mrs. Baydon said, for she and the captain had entered the parlor. Her cheeks were very bright and her hair rather mussed. “I have never ridden so fast in my life. Every moment I thought the carriage was going to turn over and all of us would break our necks. I was quite terrified! Lady Quent, you must come with us next time.”
“Because you wish her to be terrified as well?” Mr. Rafferdy said, raising an eyebrow.
“No, because it was marvelous.”
“You enjoyed being afraid, then?”
Mrs. Baydon shook her head. “I would not say I enjoyed it. Rather, I would say that I felt very alive.”
“By being nearly killed? That is curious. I suppose next you will say frost makes you feel warm.”
“But it does, Mr. Rafferdy, as soon as one comes inside.” She gave him
a triumphant smile.
“I believe she has gotten the best of you, Mr. Rafferdy,” Captain Branfort said with a jovial laugh.
Mr. Rafferdy made a bow in his chair, as if to surrender.
Mrs. Baydon went to Ivy and clasped her hands in greeting. “I’m so glad you could come today, Lady Quent. And you as well, Mr. Rafferdy. Indeed, it is a particular delight to have you both here at once.”
Mrs. Baydon fixed him with a pointed look. However, before Ivy could wonder what it purported, Captain Branfort crossed the parlor to bow before her. He was not clad in his regimentals today, but rather a blue coat that made a dashing contrast to his ruddy cheeks and ginger hair. Ivy had met the captain on several occasions, here at Lady Marsdel’s and at the Baydons’ house on Vallant Street. Ivy was certain that Lily would like him a great deal. Ivy liked him as well, very much.
“I will echo Mrs. Baydon’s sentiments,” the captain said. “I wish you could have come with us, Lady Quent. We had room for one more in the surrey. Next time, I hope you will join us.”
“I will certainly consider it,” Ivy said, smiling. “That is, if I feel I have the nerve.”
“I am sure you can muster the courage, Lady Quent. Despite what Mrs. Baydon says, I do not drive so very fast. Besides, I have heard that you are uncommonly brave.”
Ivy was taken aback by these words. She did not know that she was particularly brave. Certainly she had known great fear when she faced the highwayman Westen and the magicians of the Vigilant Order of the Silver Eye. Only, she had never recounted details of either of these happenings to Mrs. Baydon. So how could the captain know of these events?
But no—he could only be referring to her mother’s passing, which Mrs. Baydon had certainly relayed to him. Ivy had faced such extraordinary trials in recent times that she sometimes forgot about the more natural, if no less distressing, ones. She thanked the captain and told him she would certainly like to go driving with them sometime.
“Before you make any further commitments, Lady Quent, you must also agree to return here three umbrals hence,” Lady Marsdel said. “I am having a dinner, and your presence will greatly enliven the proceedings. I need someone dependable to invite, for there are others I can never rely upon these days.” She gave her fan a flick in Mr. Rafferdy’s direction.
Ivy started to express her thanks, and to say that she would be very happy to attend. Only then a realization struck her.
“Oh, but I won’t be able to come!”
“Of course you can come,” Lady Marsdel said, frowning. “Surely you are recovered, if you were ever very ill.”
“It’s not that, your ladyship,” Ivy said. “I am already engaged by a prior invitation.”
This resulted in a great agitation of her ladyship’s fan. “A prior invitation? How could you commit to such a thing when you know you are so often invited here, Lady Quent? You should have consulted with me first, to see if you were needed. Regardless, you must break the engagement.”
“I cannot,” Ivy said, though it pained her greatly.
“What do you mean you cannot? Who is this person you are engaged with whose claim to your presence could have greater precedence than mine? Go on, then—speak this person’s name!”
So ordered, Ivy could only obey. “It is Lady Crayford. The viscountess has invited me to a party at her home.”
These words were greeted by a look of astonishment on her ladyship’s part, and at the same time Mrs. Baydon let out a gasp. Ivy gripped the edge of the sofa, so as not to slip off.
“Well, that is a most remarkable thing,” Lady Marsdel said rather breathlessly. “If I did not know you so well, I would think perhaps you were making up a story to avoid having to attend my affair. But I know that sort of deceit is something of which you are not capable. Still, I do not know what to think! How did this come to be?”
Ivy’s cheeks were hot as she explained how she had encountered the viscountess at the Citadel the day of Mr. Quent’s ceremony, and then again the other day. Lady Marsdel appeared satisfied by this explanation, though far from pleased, and she made no further effort to convince Ivy to rescind the invitation.
Mrs. Baydon sighed, but the look she gave Ivy was fond. “So you are lifted up even further, Lady Quent. Not that you do not deserve it. Nevertheless, I fear you shall soon be so far above me that I will no more likely be invited to a party at your house than that of the viscountess.”
Ivy shook her head, not knowing what to make of these words.
“You cannot know it, but you have dealt Mrs. Baydon a grave blow,” Mr. Rafferdy said. His expression was serious, though his brown eyes were merry.
“In what way?” Ivy said, her distress growing. That she should in any way cause harm to her friend was terrible to consider.
“You could not be more wrong, Mr. Rafferdy,” Mrs. Baydon said. “That any happiness Lady Quent might gain should somehow cause me to suffer is impossible.” She looked at Ivy, her expression wry yet rueful. “However, I have always heard it said that the viscountess gives the most wondrous parties, and though I know it speaks ill of me to hope for such a thing, it is the case that I have long wished to receive an invitation to her house myself.”
“Your disappointment on that account is my fault,” Captain Branfort said, his usually cheerful face now marked by regret. “I have not had an occasion to see Colonel Daubrent recently.”
It was explained to Ivy how the captain had once served in a company under the colonel, who was the viscountess’s brother.
Mrs. Baydon smiled at Ivy. “There, you must not have a care! While Mr. Rafferdy would have you think I am so low as to be peeved at you, he is utterly wrong. I am delighted beyond compare that you are going to the viscountess’s party. There is only one thing I ask of you—that when it is over, you will walk with me and tell me everything that happened while you were there.”
Ivy thought only for a moment, then she sat up straight. “No, I don’t believe that I will describe the party for you, Mrs. Baydon.”
Her friend stared at her, as did the others.
“You see,” Ivy went on hastily, “I won’t have any need to tell you what happened, because you will have seen it all for yourself. Lady Crayford gave me leave to bring a guest, and as my husband will be away from the city, I would ask you to come with me instead. If you will, that is.”
Mrs. Baydon’s blue eyes went wide in an expression of wonder and delight, only then she shook her head. “But what of your sisters?”
Ivy reminded her that they were not yet out, and so it would not be proper for them to attend such an affair without their father or Sir Quent to accompany them. Assured that she would not be usurping another’s place, Mrs. Baydon readily accepted.
Tea arrived then, and the next hour proceeded in a cheerful fashion. Captain Branfort recounted more about their adventure driving around the city that day, and Ivy did wish she could have been with them. It had been so long since she had been out of Invarel, since she had seen the countryside and inhaled fresh air such as was never to be had in the city.
At last, due to the exertions of their ride in the country and the excitement of the invitation to the viscountess’s party, Mrs. Baydon was forced to retire from the parlor with a headache, though not before kissing Ivy’s cheek and telling her they must confer on what they were going to wear, so as to appear neither too disparate nor too similar.
She departed, and as Mr. Baydon was now engaged in a discussion of politics with his father, and Captain Branfort was gallantly listening to Lady Marsdel describe again the misfortune of her porcelain, Ivy suddenly found herself alone with Mr. Rafferdy. He made a gesture, and the two of them strolled to the far side of the parlor. It was, she realized with a start, the first time the two of them had had a moment to speak alone since the day they encountered the magicians in the house on Durrow Street.
Ivy did not know what to say.
“It is said that women cannot do magick,” Mr. Rafferdy said, breaking the silence.
“However, I would question that, for you have performed quite an enchantment today, Lady Quent.”
His eyes went in the direction Mrs. Baydon had just departed, and she smiled.
“It was nothing. Besides, I will feel far less afraid going to the abode of a viscountess with Mrs. Baydon at my side. I am not sure I would have been able to summon the nerve to enter, otherwise. You see—I am far less brave than Captain Branfort would have me!”
“That is not so,” he said, “for I have seen you face things the likes of which the good captain could not imagine, and which would send many a stout soldier fleeing.”
A shiver passed through Ivy, but it was more a thrill than a tremor of dread. It occurred to her that it was not simply Mr. Rafferdy’s company she had missed these last months. She had told Mr. Quent everything that had happened to her—even the things she had not told Mr. Rafferdy, such as her ability to call on the power of the Wyrdwood. However, Mr. Rafferdy had been in the house; he had stood against the magicians and had glimpsed the dark, ravenous things through the crystalline artifact. That was what she had been missing—the companionship of someone who knew what it was like to have been there that day.
“It has been far too long since I have seen you,” she said.
While at the same moment he said, “I have been very busy of late.”
Ivy felt suddenly foolish. He had the weight of all his responsibilities at Assembly to bear, as well as concern for his father’s health, and she had made it sound as if she were scolding him.
“When you are occupied by serving our nation in difficult times, Mr. Rafferdy, I can hardly fault you for not coming to have tea with my sisters and me. It would not be very patriotic!” She smiled up at him.
He did not return the expression. Instead, he gave her a look the meaning of which she could not quite fathom. His eyes seemed very bright.
“No, you are wrong, Lady Quent. Nothing in Altania could be more important than having tea with you and the Miss Lockwells, and in that duty I have been remiss. Tell me when I should come, and I will bring Mr. Garritt with me, if he can be rummaged up.”
The House on Durrow Street Page 23