Tournament of Ruses

by Kate Stradling

  Mrs. Finch’s face twisted in dismay. “Oh, dear child, you’re not down in the mud again, are you? What are we to do? You have visitors!”

  Flora’s heart leapt into her throat. “Who is it?”

  “Miss Winthrop, with Miss Markham and Miss Spencer. They’ve come especially to see you! You mustn’t keep them waiting!”

  “It begins,” Flora hissed ominously to Charlie. “I’ll be right in, Mrs. Finch,” she called to the housekeeper. “Can you offer them some refreshments while they wait?”

  Mrs. Finch reluctantly returned to the house, but only because she couldn’t leave such visitors waiting with no word of when Flora would meet them. Flora returned her attention to Charlie.

  “What am I supposed to do?” she asked accusingly.

  “Get rid of them,” he told her. “We have more important things to worry about right now. Can I sneak out over the fence without anyone seeing me, do you think?”

  “You don’t want to get caught here by Georgiana either,” she surmised.

  “I don’t want to get caught up in the time-wasting niceties of a social call,” he corrected her. “I need to fetch Viola, immediately!”

  Flora didn’t want to think how Georgiana would react if Viola Moreland suddenly arrived during their visit. “There’s a gate on the side of the house that leads out to the street. Can you bring her back that way? I’ll try to get rid of Georgiana, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “You do your best and I’ll do mine,” said Charlie. “Hurry now, before your housekeeper comes back.”

  She duly left him in the garden, foreboding in her heart as she approached her eminent doom. She could only hope that she somehow survived the encounter before her.

  Chapter Six: Bond and Free

  I loathe social calls. I have no idea what I’m supposed to talk about, and no idea what I’m supposed to do with my hands as I sit. If I’m lucky, there’s a cup of tea that I can hold, but I have the nervous habit of playing with the spoon that inevitably accompanies it. Mrs. Finch has rebuked me for that more than once, after our visitors have gone on their way.

  Facing Georgiana and two of her lackeys was bad enough, but the whole time all I could think was that Charles Moreland would be returning with his sister Viola to my house, and that if I wasn’t careful, Georgiana would discover them both. If I sent her away at the wrong moment, she might even meet them coming down the street, and how would that look?

  And meanwhile, I could not fathom what was so very important about that puddle in the garden that someone like Viola Moreland would be called upon to examine it. The mystery of it plagued my mind to such an extent that I’m afraid I was not a very genial hostess at all.

  Not that it really matters. I’m pretty certain by now that Georgiana has me in her crosshairs, and that she’ll shoot to kill the first opportunity she gets. There’s not much point in trying to play nice with her anymore.

  Upon entering the house, Flora scurried straight up the back staircase to her bedroom. Her dress had mud on it for the second time that day and she knew that Georgiana would hone in on such a flaw immediately.

  She could just imagine the girl’s poisoned concern: “Oh, dear Flora, did you take a tumble in the yard? Your dress is quite soiled! I should be ashamed beyond belief if such a thing had happened to me!”

  Flora was determined to save her the false pity. Carefully she removed her bonnet, thankful that her hair still held its coiled shape beneath. Then, with her maid Mary’s help, she donned a different dress (not the same one she had worn twice to Mrs. Olivette’s Conservatory, she made certain). A quick check in the mirror showed her to be presentable, and she hurried back down the stairs.

  Mrs. Finch met her in the hallway. “Oh, bless you, child, for changing! You look wonderful in that new frock! Take care not to get any mud on it, if you please.” Then, she kissed her on the cheek and motioned her to the front drawing room.

  Flora swallowed her nerves and boldly stepped across the threshold. Her best means of avoiding conflict was to take control of the conversation from the beginning. With a sunny smile on her face, she said, “Why, Georgiana! And Dorothea and Augustina! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here?”

  Georgiana Winthrop stood a little stiffly, her cup of tea in hand. “Dear Flora,” she said, and she plastered on a strained smile, “of course we had to come. When Dot and Gussie told me they had seen you on the street, I simply longed to visit with you again, just like old times.”

  “Old times” was only a week ago, Flora wanted to say, but she held her tongue. “Yes, we did meet,” she said instead, and she glanced openly toward Dorothea and Augustina. “How lucky I am that you were able to take some time to visit me! Do sit down again.”

  So saying, she swept into a chair that faced the front window. Georgiana sat directly across from her, swathed in anemic afternoon sunlight. Storm clouds billowed on the horizon behind her.

  Dorothea and Augustina sat upon the couch like spectators. They looked from one girl to the other in anticipation of a good conflict.

  “I was surprised,” Georgiana started sweetly, “to hear that Charles Moreland was accompanying you earlier. My dear Charles! I haven’t seen him in ages, it seems.”

  “Is that who he was?” Flora asked naïvely. “I didn’t know! I should’ve looked at him more closely.”

  Georgiana tittered and glanced toward Dorothea and Augustina, who made similar ridiculous noises. “Oh, poor Flora,” she said, the syrup thick on her voice. “Did you really not recognize the future Prime Minister of Lenore? I cannot believe such a thing, you poor dear!”

  “How embarrassing it is,” Flora agreed with a fake little laugh of her own. “In my defense, I’ve only been here a fortnight. The only member of the Prime Minister’s family that I’ve seen before now was Viola Moreland. He is her brother, then? I feel quite foolish that I didn’t recognize him!”

  Georgiana looked as though the wind had been stripped from her sails. She chose a different tactic to put the newcomer in her proper place. “But how, pray tell, did he come to walk with you if you didn’t even know who he was?” she inquired, an unsubtle edge to her voice.

  “Oh,” said Flora. “I was coming back from the palace, and he was one of the guards at the gate. He suddenly told the other guard that he was going to escort me home. It took me quite by surprise.” She let that sink in and watched with perverse amusement as the smile on Georgiana’s face quavered.

  “Dear Charles, always doing such chivalrous things out of the blue. What on earth were you doing at the palace?”

  “I was summoned,” said Flora plainly.

  “By your father?”

  “No, on the Prince’s command, but it was due to my dad, I think. That is…” She theatrically hesitated. “Well, I’m not actually sure I’m allowed to discuss the reason why,” she declared with that oblivious façade she had been grooming from her very first encounter with Georgiana Winthrop. She blinked innocently.

  Georgiana’s eyes had grown wide. “Is it to do with the tournament?” she asked eagerly. When Flora hummed a non-committal sound, she pressed, “Come now, dear Flora, we are friends, are we not?”

  As though she wasn’t here to put Flora in her place over her daring to walk alongside Charles Moreland, Flora thought sourly. “Of course we’re friends, dear Georgiana,” she lied. “If I knew for sure I could tell, I would in an instant! I just don’t know.”

  Really, she just didn’t want to tell Georgiana that she had been appointed to be in charge of the consort applications. The ambitious girl would probably wheedle Flora into letting her help, and Flora had absolutely no desire to suffer through that.

  “Does it have anything to do with that stack of files Charles Moreland was carrying?” asked Dorothea with a nasty little twist to her voice. At least she was honest about her dislike, but it was troublesome that she had noticed that detail.

  “Oh, how cunning of you,” cried Flora as though she was pleased beyond
belief that Dorothea could guess such a thing. “Yes, it has everything to do with those files, but I really can’t say anything more. Please don’t ask.”

  “Oh, how very secretive,” said Georgiana. “So Charles was helping you carry home a stack of files? And the Prince had summoned you to the palace to receive them? What could they have possibly been?”

  Through the front window Flora saw Charles Moreland dart into view along with his sister and another figure. “I really can’t answer that,” she said quickly, and she continued talking so that Dorothea and Augustina would keep their eyes on her rather than turn to gauge Georgiana’s reaction. “That is, I would dearly love to tell you everything, Georgiana, but I don’t want to get into trouble with the Prince. I’m sure you’ll learn the truth of the matter in no time—in fact, I could talk to my dad tonight when he comes home and see if he thinks the Prince would mind me telling a few very close friends. We might meet together tomorrow and discuss it, if he thinks I can. That is, unless you already have plans…?”

  Now that she knew the Morelands had arrived safely, she wanted nothing more than to get rid of her visitors and return to the garden.

  “Dear Flora, what a faithful subject you are!” said Georgiana. “The Eternal Prince must surely admire such fastidiousness when he entrusts someone with a task. I’m sure he’ll be most impressed.”

  “You toad-eater,” she might as well have said. She thought Flora was trying to win points with the Prince in advance of his official search for a consort.

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Flora replied. “It’s because I’m terrified of him! What if I were to say more than I ought to, and the Prince cast me into the dungeons as punishment? No, I’d much rather have permission before I said anything more on the subject.”

  “Do you promise I’ll be the first person you’ll tell?” asked Georgiana with a dangerously saccharine tone of voice.

  “Georgie!” cried Augustina reproachfully. “No fair getting the jump on the rest of us! Dot and I want to know as well!”

  “I’m sure Georgiana would tell us immediately,” said Dorothea with a sycophantic glance at her idol.

  “And Prissy, too,” Augustina insisted.

  “Oh, yes,” said Georgiana, and she did a fine job of hiding the unpleasant sneer that had instinctively leapt to her face. “We must all meet together and hear what task the Prince has given to our dear little Flora. Shall we plan for tomorrow at Mrs. O’s, just like old times?”

  Their dear little Flora was almost ready to punch her. “But I’m not even sure I can tell you,” she protested. The floor just outside the room creaked; she prayed that it wasn’t Mrs. Finch eavesdropping, for the housekeeper would probably cajole her into humoring the pack of girls. “There’s really no point in making any appointments until after I’ve spoken with my dad.”

  “But even if you can’t tell us anything, you simply must come,” said Georgiana smoothly. “It seems like ages and ages since we’ve met together, all five of us! I’ve missed you all so terribly that I simply must have a little reunion! Why, I was thinking just this morning—”

  Her overly dramatic plea was interrupted by a quick knock on the door frame. Four pairs of eyes turned in that direction, and Flora’s nearly dropped out of her head.

  “Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” said Charles Moreland with his most charming smile, “but Miss Dalton really is needed elsewhere.”

  Everyone was speechless. He took the opportunity to walk further into the room. “Ah, tea! Marvelous! Don’t mind if I do!” He caught up the last cup and saucer—which Mrs. Finch had prepared for Flora—and neatly tossed back its contents. “I feel most revived. Now Miss Dalton, if you’ve had your break, we really should get back to work. That is, unless…” He paused and pointed with the teacup still in hand to the three other girls. “You didn’t come here to curry favor with Miss Dalton, did you? Naughty, naughty, trying to get a jump on the other applicants!”

  At long last, Georgiana found her voice, though it was faint at best. “My dear Charles, whatever can you mean?”

  He dashed Flora’s hopes for discretion with his answer. “The Prince has entrusted Miss Dalton with ordering the applicants for consort, of course, and he sent me along to help her get started. We’ve only just begun. There are dozens to sort through. The sooner Miss Dalton finishes, the sooner we can get this whole silly production off and running. You will excuse her, will you not?”

  “O-of course,” said Georgiana, and she quickly stood. Her cup and saucer rattled as she set it back on the table. Immediately she turned to Flora, who had stood as well, and squeezed her shoulders in an intimate gesture, as though they were the oldest of friends. To Flora, it seemed more like a menacing grip upon her, and the unspoken hardness in Georgiana’s eyes did nothing to waylay that suspicion. “Dearest Flora! Why didn’t you tell us that Charles was waiting for you?”

  Flora was at a loss for words. “I… uh…”

  “We’ll simply have to meet another time,” said Georgiana, and she leaned forward to kiss Flora’s cheek. That action sent a chill racing down Flora’s spine. Augustina and Dorothea gave similarly sappy goodbyes, though Dorothea at least looked like it pained her greatly to do so. Flora stood rooted in place through it all. Vaguely she heard the three speak polite farewells to Charles, and she heard him make a jovial offer to see them to the door.

  “Oh no, dear Charles, we shouldn’t like to interrupt any more than we already have!” said Georgiana. “How silly of Flora not to send us on our way the moment we arrived, when she had something so very important to do! We’ll see ourselves safely out. No, you needn’t offer to walk us home, for it is only just down the street,” she added as he opened his mouth to say something more. “Good afternoon, Charles. Good afternoon, Flora.”

  The front door shut.

  “Come on, Miss Dalton” Charlie said. The charming lilt had left his voice.

  Flora turned stricken eyes upon him. “What on earth have you just done?”

  He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Not only did you just reveal that you’re at my house, but you just told that pack of hyenas I’m in charge of their consort applications!” She could feel the panic welling in her throat. If Georgiana didn’t approve of Flora’s arbitrary ordering system, and especially if the Prince chose Viola over her and she had to shift her attention back to Charles Moreland, she was going to make Flora’s life an absolute misery. The countryside wouldn’t be far enough of an escape.

  Charlie failed to see the problem. “But it’s all true.”

  “But they didn’t need to know any of it,” Flora retorted.

  He gave her a funny look. “I think you’re going to fit in just fine here,” he said cryptically. “Come on, now. They’re waiting for us in the garden.”

  He beckoned her with gloved fingers. His other hand still grasped the teacup.

  She started forward on instinct. “Where on earth is Mrs. Finch?” she wondered aloud.

  “Probably upstairs reading the application files,” Charlie replied. He grabbed her by the hand and practically dragged her from the room. “I haven’t seen her. Hurry, now. There’s no time to waste. I thought I told you to get rid of those girls,” he added as they wove their way to the back of the house.

  She had allowed him to lead her thus far, but she snatched her hand away before they reached the door. “I did try,” she said pettishly. “They positively refused to take any hints.”

  “You should have just told them to leave.”

  Flora stared. “You have absolutely no idea how social circles work, do you,” she guessed. “If I had done something so blunt, they would’ve shunned me from today onward. Once word of it got back to my dad, he’d be lamenting my country upbringing and begging me to make amends so that we can have a happy, peaceful life here in the city. I could endure a shunning perfectly well, I think, but I can’t bear that disappointed look on his face. It makes me feel like I’m a horrible, ungrateful daugh
ter.”

  “Your dad sounds a bit like my mother,” Charlie replied. “All right, then. I understand. I suppose I’ve caused trouble in your little social circle by interfering the way I did.”

  “It’s not my social circle,” Flora corrected. “It’s Georgiana Winthrop’s, and the only reason she’s pulled me in is because she thinks I have some sort of advantage in the Prince’s search for a consort!”

  “You do have an advantage,” Charlie pointed out.

  Flora grumbled in frustration and wrenched open the back door.

  She didn’t have her coat on, and the wintry day should have demanded that she fetch it first before going outside. Her backyard wasn’t that cold, though. It felt more like early spring, when the sun’s rays melted away the snow and brought new life to everything again. The abnormality of it caused Flora’s mood to drop even further.

  She snatched up a gardening rug from the porch, wary of getting a third dress muddy in one day. As she started forward with Charlie alongside her, she caught sight of two figures crouched next to the hole by the rosebush. Viola’s she recognized immediately. The second made her stop dead in her tracks.

  “Sorry for the wait,” said Charlie as he slipped past her. “I’ve brought Flora and a teacup.”

  The utter nonsense of this remark pulled her from her stupor. She hurried to catch up.

  “Hello, Miss Dalton,” said Viola politely, but there was a grim tone to her voice.

  “Hello, Miss Flora,” said Will from next to her, and far more cheerfully. Of course they would come in a pair, thought Flora. They fit so well together that it only stood to reason they would both be here.

  “Hello,” she said faintly.

  “Here you go,” said Charlie to Will, and he handed him the teacup. “You might need to wipe it out. It had tea in it.”

  Will obligingly rubbed the cup clean with his shirt. Then, he lowered it into the hole as though to scoop up some of the liquid at the bottom.