A Midsummer's Magic

by Mary Chase Comstock

  Trevalyen' "

  As she read these last words, Hippolyta experienced an odd sense of disappointment. Surely she ought to have been relieved, and she was, of course. But the notion of being on a quest, the battle of good against evil was quite suddenly missing. When Hippolyta raised her eyes from the letter, she saw she was not alone in her response. St. Ives, too, bore a look of perplexity.

  "All this time," he mused softly, "I had thought I understood the forces that drove my life. It is an unsettling thing to find I have been a pawn in someone else's game."

  Hippolyta placed a tentative hand on his arm. "I do not imagine there was any unkindness intended, but I think I know how you feel. Trevalyen was ever amiable to me, but I have often felt my life was usurped in this odd game of power. It has been pleasant enough, but who knows what might have become of me had Trevalyen not determined I was to be his apprentice."

  St. Ives looked at her sharply. "Surely it was more than that?"

  In spite of the heat she felt rising to her cheeks, she did not lower her eyes. "It was never more than that."

  A speaking silence hovered in the air as an expression of outright wretchedness flooded St. Ives's features.

  "Forgive me, Polly," he whispered. "I hadn't an idea. How I must have frightened you. I knew you did not conduct yourself as a woman of experience, yet still I pursued you as if you were. Can you forgive me?"

  Hippolyta smiled. Of course she could forgive him. As he raised her hand to his lips and delivered an exceedingly chaste kiss, she wondered if she could forgive Trevalyen as well.

  She suspected the true purpose behind this odd sequence of events was a bit of celestial matchmaking. After all, in terms of supernatural lineage, she and St. Ives must be the equivalent of a princess royal and a crown prince. And the children! What might a marriage of these lines produce? What a temptation to one whose own progeny had been something of a disappointment to him.

  "We must talk of this soon, my dear," he told her. "I suppose I must ask Edward's permission to pay my addresses."

  "Wait until all of this wretched business is finished— there will be time."

  St. Ives sighed and nodded. "What must we do?"

  "I believe Trevalyen's letter was quite clear. It seems you and I must do nothing."

  "After all of this, we are to 'trust to the children'?" He shook his head in seeming disbelief. "Surely he cannot have meant to pit Bertie and Diana against the powers of darkness?"

  "Surely," she replied with an arch smile, "you cannot doubt they are equal to such a task!"

  After a moment, St. Ives laughed and shook his head. "A fellow wonders if he ought not to saddle Lothian's horse and wish him godspeed. I do not envy him in the least."

  "Nor I. I shall say good night, then. I still have much to do for the Midsummer rites tomorrow—or, rather, today."

  He looked at her blankly for a moment. "You truly mean to merely go to bed?"

  "I shall have a cup of chocolate as well."

  "But, Polly…"

  "If Trevalyen says all will be well, then truly it must be. I am only glad I have refrained from tracking down Bertie. I suppose I must give Diana free rein as well, although I do not like to think of it."

  He frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose you must know best."

  "It is exceedingly annoying of me," she smiled, "but I very often do."

  Fifteen

  Dawn had just begun to break over the countryside when Diana felt herself gently awakened by a soft shaking. She groaned and nuzzled insistently into her pillow again. Her head throbbed slightly and her mouth was dry. She would just sleep a little while longer. It could not possibly be time to get up. She began to drift again into a dream about a lovely costume ball. All of her dances were taken it seemed, and she was trying to placate several disappointed young gentlemen.

  She felt herself shaken again.

  "Go away, Jane," she murmured groggily.

  Now a gentle hand stroked her hair. Jane had never done that before—it must be her mother, surely. How odd she should be at Rookeshaven, though. Slowly, she opened her eyes and peered into the half-light… Where was she?

  "Time to get you off to bed," a voice close to her ear whispered.

  She started at the sound.

  "Edward!" she exclaimed uncomprehendingly. It was then she realized with a jolt that she was not nestled in her bed at all, but against his very accommodating shoulder. They were in Mrs. Bannock's parlor, just off the kitchen, curled up on an amply padded sofa by the fire.

  He chuckled. "I know! Is it not shocking?"

  Shocked indeed, she pulled herself away and jumped up, making her way through the dim room into the kitchen. There, the brick floor was unrelentingly frigid and hard under her unsteady, bare feet.

  "Edward," she moaned, "however did this happen? Why, the last I recall…"

  "The last I recall is you and I deciding that, since someone had absconded with the cherry tarts, we might try some cherry cordial instead. Then we hit upon this cozy spot for our midnight libations. I must say, you have not much of a head for spirits."

  "I should think I do not!" she retorted in a self-righteous whisper. Then she clapped a hand to her throbbing temples. What a rude awakening this was. Then a horrible thought struck her. "How could you let me be compromised in this fashion? Where," she asked chillingly, "is your chivalry?"

  Edward had the grace to look shamefaced for a moment before his eyes sparkled with laughter again. "Here, now, Diana. You cannot be compromised if there is no one to be compromised in front of, can you?"

  "It is the principle of the thing," she told him sternly. "Besides, who is to say that we shan't be discovered even yet?"

  As if to punctuate her concern, the sound of Mrs. Bannock's sonorous voice drifted toward them from an adjoining room. Diana felt the blood drain from her cheeks. "What did I tell you?" she hissed, her voice bordering on tears.

  "Come," Edward said, taking her by the arm and pulling her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Although she stubbed her toes painfully, she followed along, storing up an ever-lengthening list of wrongs with which to tax him— whenever she next had the opportunity. They had just reached the first landing when they heard conversation below. They froze in their tracks.

  "Best be getting the young ladies up and ready for the maiden rites," Mrs. Bannock could be heard to say, "although I cannot say I envy you the task, Sadie."

  "Aye" came the response, "'tis hard pressed I am to rouse their highnesses before teatime most days. If it was not for the notion of setting love spells on the gentlemen they would have naught to do with it today, I promise you. I pity the poor lads those creatures set their sights on."

  "Mark me," Mrs. Bannock said in a knowing voice, "it's not lads the likes of them has their eyes on. They are after bigger game—older game, if you take my meaning—and, for that, our young lord may thank his lucky stars."

  On the stairs, Edward turned an offended gaze on Diana. Before she could say a word, he pulled her by the arm and continued their way up the passage. Diana felt somehow as if she had betrayed him, although she was not quite certain how she had done so.

  Perhaps it was merely that he had rescued her last night, jested with her until her fright had passed, held her in his arms until morning. Merely? It was more than any gentleman had ever done for her before, that much was certain.

  And yet, this was Edward, she reminded herself. Edward who had pulled her hair and hidden her dolls on that one visit three years ago. Edward who had called her Miss Bratty and plagued her with all manner of teasing. Edward who had so presumptuously kissed her… That memory brought her up short. What had prompted him? she wondered. Could it possibly be… affection? She hardly knew what to think, her head was in such a muddle.

  They had by this time reached the top of the kitchen stairs. Edward now eased the door open and peeked out into the front hall.

  "All's clear," he said in an undertone.

  He led her f
orward, through the hall and up the long central staircase down which she had made her way with such trepidation the night before. She clung to his hand, following docilely, until they neared the top. Then, he would have let her go, but she held on.

  "Edward," she whispered urgently. He turned and faced her. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, as if he were sensible that his manner just now had been overly petulant. "I just wanted to say thank you. If… if you had not come along last night, I might have… that is to say, I am sorry if I have not seemed properly grateful. I am not insensible to the danger I might have encountered. So," she cast her eyes down, "if you would like… that is, you may…"

  Instead of continuing her awkward speech, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  "Diana!" He grasped her hands in his and brought them to his lips.

  Diana suddenly felt giddy and foolish, not at all the worldly young lady she liked to imagine herself.

  "I had best be off to bed," she whispered, "if Sadie is on her way to awaken me."

  Just then, the sound of a doorknob being turned startled the pair. Immediately they dropped to their knees, crouching behind the banister. They had no sooner done so than the door nearest the head of the stairs opened. Into the hallway stepped Sir Godfrey Minims. Behind him appeared Lady Bristlethwaite. Although each of their heads was topped with a night cap and their night clothes were buttoned well up to the top, it was immediately apparent from the ardor of their adieux that they had not spent the night playing patience!

  As Sir Godfrey's figure disappeared down the hall in the opposite direction, Diana caught Edward's eye. Each of them blushed furiously, but Edward was the first to give way to a soft laugh.

  "Edward!" Diana scolded in a whisper. "How can you?"

  "Diana!" he returned. "How can you not?"

  Diana felt a tug at the corners of her mouth and the beginnings of a giggle bubbling up. She bit her cheeks firmly in an attempt to school her countenance, and gave Edward what she hoped was a very severe look. Peeping up past the banister, she checked to see that the path was again clear.

  "Good night… or morning," she whispered, rising again.

  Edward stood and pushed a stray ringlet away from her face. "Think of me during the rituals this morning," he murmured. Then he added with a smile, "I shall be sleeping comfortably."

  Diana was about to retort when the sound of footsteps broke the silence. They exchanged a quick, puzzled glance and Edward pulled Diana down once more. This time, they were even more surprised to recognize Julian St. Ives and Hippolyta walking arm in arm. At the latter's door, they paused for a moment. St. Ives held Hippolyta's hand to his lips. Then she disappeared inside her chamber. He paused outside for a brief moment before continuing on toward his own.

  When he had passed, Edward released his breath. "At least," he whispered, "we are not the only ones who have not been where we ought. It looks as if Polly's made poor St. Ives her apprentice."

  "How so?" Diana whispered.

  "Why, they have clearly come from the laboratory. What do you suppose they have been up to all night?"

  Diana was about to pursue that interesting statement when she heard footsteps approaching from below. She really must get into bed if she was to be duly awakened for the morning's rites.

  "Edward," she whispered urgently, "I must go."

  He glanced quickly over his shoulder and, grabbing her wrist, propelled her down the corridor toward her chamber. They paused a moment outside her door as she caught her breath.

  "I shall not see you again until the bonfire tonight, Diana," he told her, "but I must have a word with you. I shall seek you out and dance you to the edge of the circle where we can talk."

  Without another word, he pressed her hand to his lips and disappeared.

  Once inside her door, Diana leaned back against it and shut her eyes. She had not at all accomplished what she had set out to do, all those hours ago. Now she thought of it, the notion of having all the gentlemen in love with her did not seem at all desirable. Odd, how it had all worked out. This had certainly been the most curious, unnerving night of her entire life. The incident with Lothian she had not yet had time to ponder. What a close call that had been!

  Whatever had possessed her, she asked herself with a deepening chagrin, to think he might be a suitable admirer? He was clearly a very bad man, probably even worse than Byron! It was chilling to perceive, now she had met one, that there was nothing romantical about a dark and dangerous villain after all. Why, she was ever so much more comfortable sharing a clandestine midnight coze in the kitchen with Edward than she had been for even one second in the library with Lord Lothian.

  It was just as well she was soon to begin a new day, she reflected as she made her way through the semidarkness, for she was quite sure that sleep would elude her entirely. When she reached the bed, she quickly tore back the counterpane and disheveled the bedding. As she did so, she heard something small and heavy drop to the floor. Whatever could it be? It sounded very like a locket, but she could not remember having worn one lately.

  She stood for a moment and listened. The hall was still silent. Perhaps Sadie had gone to awaken the Honorables first.

  Diana dropped to her knees and felt about on the carpet. Almost immediately her hand closed upon something—a small, cold object attached to a chain. How singular. Its shape did not feel familiar. Did she have time to carry it to the window and examine it in the pale light? She glanced at the bed. As long as it was rumpled, she decided, it would be easy enough to claim that anticipation of the morning's events had prompted her to arise early. She would chance it.

  Even as she ran to the window she wondered why it seemed so important to see what this object was—why she could not wait the few moments until Sadie aroused her to discover its nature. Pushing these thoughts aside, she drew back the curtains. The light was faint, but it was sufficient to her needs. In her hand rested the onyx trinket Lothian had worn.

  Diana shuddered at the enormity of the implications. Lothian had been in her chamber! Had even, it seemed, sat upon her bed, else how should the trinket have fallen among its folds? How fortuitous it was, in retrospect, that she had gone with Edward to the kitchen, had fallen asleep in the cook's parlor. Even if she had been discovered there, a circumstantial compromise must surely be better than whatever dreadful fate must have awaited her in her own chamber.

  Diana underwent a sickening sensation of abhorrence mixed with relief. The object still weighed in her hand. Whatever was she to do with it? She was not about to give it back to the gentleman, nor did she feel at all inclined to reveal her night's adventures to Aunt Polly or anyone else.

  Well, she decided, she would just contrive to take it out of doors and lose it during the maiden rites. The notion made her feel unaccountably better. If Lord Lothian could do no better than to creep about young ladies' chambers, she thought as she wrapped the chain about her wrist, he deserved to lose the silly thing. Surely, even he would not have the temerity to ask her about it!

  Just then, the chamber door opened and Sadie crept into the room.

  "Miss Diana," the girl whispered. "It is time to be—Why, you are already up and about!"

  Diana yawned but once for show as Sadie, who was already clad in her flowing Midsummer gown, pulled the curtains completely open, revealing a golden sunrise over the rolling hills.

  "You do not mind the early hour?" Sadie queried politely. Diana recalled the remarks she had overheard in the kitchen and smiled inwardly. The girl was certainly gifted at hiding the astonishment she must have felt at this unlooked-for state of readiness.

  "Not at all," Diana returned sweetly. "Not when there is the least prospect of 'setting love spells on the gentlemen'!"

  Sadie bit her lower lip and regarded Diana with a look of chagrin mingled with respect. "I see you have got your aunt's gift," she murmured, her cheeks reddening. "I'm that sorry to be caught criticizing my betters."

  Diana laughed.
"Do not fret. It was merely the truth. Are Maria and Sophia up and about?"

  "Their mother stopped me in the hall before I could knock. Told me the two of them had determined to keep to their rooms for the whole of the day. They will be missing out on a treat and no mistake, but I am certain the rest of the maidens will be happier knowing we are just to be Rookeshaven people."

  Diana was suddenly cheered at this implied fellowship as well as the notion that the detestable Honorables were to make themselves scarce. Recalling their performance of the night before, however, she could not blame them. Sadie helped her to brush out her curls and robe herself in the customary gown.

  "You look a fair sight, Miss Diana," Sadie murmured at last.

  "I feel quite a fair sight," she laughed. She suddenly found herself wishing Edward could see her. With her curls arranged loosely and her airy gown freshly trimmed with bright ribands, the girl she saw reflected in the glass looked as carelessly lovely as a wildflower. "Is there such a costume for tonight?" she asked.

  "There will not be time to change, so we will all wear our Midsummer gowns."

  "No time to change? Why, it must be hours and hours until nightfall. How long do the rituals last?"

  Sadie shot her a mysterious look. "Time is unnatural on Midsummer's Eve. Before you know it, the bonfire will be kindled."

  Diana was about to pursue this strange remark, but Sadie took her hand and, smiling shyly, said, "Come, miss. For today we shall be maidens together. But we must hurry and join the others before the sun has risen above the hilltop."

  "What about slippers?"

  Sadie raised the edge of her robe to reveal a set of round pink toes. "Do not you fret, Miss. Where we are going the bramble dare not grow!"

  Sixteen

  When Diana and Sadie joined the other maidens outside the walls of Rookeshaven, the sun was beginning to cast its rosy light over the green-and-golden fields. They stood a moment, reveling in the fresh morning air, as several girls scanned the horizon in all directions.