by Bree Verity
And as she dropped into sleep, it didn’t even occur to her that she wasn’t thinking about Lachlan at all.
Chapter Seven.
“They read the banns, Fenella,” said Mary, clutching her curls and walking swiftly backward and forward in front of the two wing chairs. “Do you know what that means?”
“Not really, no,” admitted Fenella. “Does it mean your wedding is banned?” She brightened. “That would mean we’ve done what we set out to do.”
“No,” replied Mary, coming to a standstill in front of her fairy godmother. “It means everybody knows of the engagement. Banns are read three times over three weeks, then on the fourth week, you wed.” Fenella’s face fell as Mary spoke. It sounded as if the wedding was still on as scheduled. She felt a tightness in her chest. She had known something was off.
Mary all but fell into the chair beside Fenella and groaned. “Oh, I wish I could die.”
Fenella ignored Mary’s theatrics, instead concentrating on the behavior of Mr. Penny. “Would your fiancé know about these banns?” she asked Mary, who sniffed derisively before answering.
“Of course, he would. Everybody does. In fact, he would have been the one to organize the minister to read them.”
“How could he go ahead with that when he had lost the right to your hand? Has he no honor?”
“I don’t understand.” Now Mary’s brow was as furrowed as Fenella’s. “What do you mean he had lost the right to my hand?”
“I wagered him for it. The other night.”
“You… you wagered on my hand?”
“Yes,” replied Fenella, unperturbed and not noticing the expression of horror on Mary’s face. “One turn of a card, highest card wins.” With a little smugness she added, “I, of course, won.”
“Oh, my reputation,” Mary groaned, falling theatrically back into her chair. “How could you?”
Starting to become a little annoyed with Mary’s histrionics, Fenella’s eyes started to gleam with their deep ruby fire, and the grey vapor appeared around her ankles. “Well, how else was I going to get him to cry off?”
Mary’s tone turned sarcastic. “I don’t know you could, perhaps have put a spell or something on him? You are a fairy godmother after all.”
Fenella shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. I can only use magic on you. Not on anyone else.”
“Well, that seems counter-productive,” Mary grumbled, her arms crossed, and her chin lowered. She glowered at Fenella. “Quite apart from that, your big plan did not work at all, did it?”
“No,” mused Fenella. “He obviously does not subscribe to the normal modes of behavior. He is no gentleman.”
“I believe I already mentioned that to you,” said Mary icily.
“I think I’m going to have to take this back to my mentor. I’m not certain what to do since the man doesn’t behave properly.”
“Oh, you go right ahead,” said Mary with an airy wave of her hand. “Take your time. I shall just sit here, becoming more and more engaged with each passing moment.”
Instead of becoming more irritated with her godchild, Fenella smiled. “Fear not. I shall rescue you before you are forced to walk down the aisle.”
“Please do,” retorted Mary. “For I should dislike very much to have to run away from my own wedding.”
* * *
Fenella returned to fairy godmother headquarters and had immediately sought Eldryth out, outlining the problem as she saw it.
“I knew there was something wrong with the whole situation,” she said. “The gentleman was not upset enough to have lost.”
“Is he well liked amongst his peers?” Eldryth asked from her seat behind her enormous mahogany desk.
“It’s more like they would prefer to keep their distance, only they are not permitted,” replied Fenella slowly, recalling the way the other patrons of the gambling hell reacted when Mr. Penny arrived.
Eldryth nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps we need to examine his aura more closely,” she said. “To find out exactly what kind of a man we are dealing with.”
Fenella frowned. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she said. “All I can see in it is storminess and red lightning. The textbooks tell us those are the colors of an unpleasant person. What else can we tell?”
A gentle smile crossed Eldryth’s withered face. “If we snip a tiny part of his aura away, we can run a few tests on it. There is much more to an aura than just a general feeling of a person. But it takes a specific type of fae to be able to read those tests.”
Fenella nodded, but her face fell when Eldryth continued, “You will need to get close enough to Mr. Penny to snip off a tiny piece of his aura and not get caught.”
“Me? Why me?”
“It’s your fairy godchild Fenella,” Eldryth said. “And your impediment to the happily ever after.”
While she knew Eldryth was right, Fenella still didn’t want to spend any more time alongside the unpleasant Mr. Penny.
“Could I perhaps…”
“No.”
“But I really think I…”
“No.”
“But if you’ll just let me…”
“No.” Eldryth took a deep breath in. “Fenella, you have to learn to take responsibility for your own people. There isn’t always going to be a Lachlan or an Eldryth around to bail you out. You need to be able to do whatever needs to be done to achieve your aim.” She stood up and walked around the side of her desk. From somewhere behind her she pulled a pair of scissors with intricate, swirling patterns on their handles worked in what looked to Fenella like gold.
“These are aura shears,” said Eldryth, handing them to Fenella. “They are single use – you only get one chance to snip away a bit of your prey’s aura.”
“Isn’t this against the rules though?” asked Fenella desperately. “I’m not allowed to use magic on anyone except my fairy godchild.”
“You’re not allowed to use your magic on anyone except your godchild,” replied Eldryth. “You can use general magic though. Infused items, transformed items and the like.”
“Well, that might have been nice to know a bit earlier,” grumbled Fenella, but when Eldryth laid a gnarled hand on her shoulder, she bit back her petulance.
“Get that man’s aura, Fenella. Let’s see exactly what we’re dealing with.”
* * *
“So, what do you think?”
Fenella had taken the scissors to Lachlan and complained loudly about partially explained rules and people not behaving how they were supposed to. She felt uncomfortable with snipping away part of a person’s aura, even if that person was the highly unpleasant Mr. Penny.
Lachlan shrugged, examining the intricate design on the scissor’s handles. “Eldryth would certainly not get you to do something that was against the law,” he said carefully, bringing the scissors close to his face to look at the swirls and curlicues.
“But surely it’s also kind of unethical?” Fenella argued. “After all, a person’s aura is something that belongs to them. There must be some stricture against taking the personal possessions of another.”
“Not really,” Lachlan said, offering the scissors back to Fenella. “You’re not allowed to steal anything from another fae, but there’s no laws around taking things from humans.”
“Really?” Fenella was surprised.
“Well, I guess because the only people who interact with humans are the fairy godmothers, and they have a specific purpose for being there…?” Lachlan trailed off.
“Fairy godmothers are hardly the most trustworthy of fae,” Fenella remarked.
“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” replied Lachlan dryly.
“Perhaps not, but it’s true. I wonder how many fairy godmothers have mementos from all of their children.”
Lachlan colored, and Fenella goggled at him.
“Do you really? All of them? How many happily ever afters have you done?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“And
what kinds of things do you take?”
“Oh, you know. Little things. A thimble or a shoe or an embroidery hoop…”
Fenella ignored his obvious discomfort with the conversation. “And how do you remember which thing belonged to which godchild?”
“I cast a memory spell over them when the happily ever after occurs. That’s the best time, apparently, when the romance is at its freshest…” He noticed deep amusement in Fenella’s eyes and said, “What? What’s so funny?”
“It’s funny because you, Lachlan, are the most honest fae I know, and yet you’ve stolen thirty-seven different things. And that’s only during your fairy godmother career. I wonder what other heinous crimes you’ve committed.”
“Stop it.” Lachlan’s neck was beetroot red. “We’re not here to talk about me.”
“But it’s so much fun to talk about you. Especially when you’re misbehaving.”
“I’m not misbehaving.”
“Then why are you blushing so much?”
“Focus, Fenella. The aura. And the scissors. I think you’d be fine.”
“Yes, but you agreeing it’s okay to snip away a piece of a human’s aura is like getting permission to drink from a raging alcoholic.”
“It’s nothing like that.” Fenella could see that Lachlan was starting to get irritated so, despite how much fun it was, she let the matter go. Her features grew serious.
“I feel uncomfortable taking a piece of a person’s aura.” She shrugged one shoulder. “It just feels wrong to me.”
Lachlan nodded and slung an arm around her shoulder. “Well, you should follow your heart,” he said, “but how else will you be able to find out more about this gentleman?”
“Maybe,” Fenella said, “I could just ask him.”
Chapter Eight.
And that was how Fenella found herself back in the guise of Mr. Commodore, rapping smartly with her cane on the door of Mr. Penny’s house in Berwick Street. She was shown into the fine house by a very proper butler and led to a waiting room. After handing her card to the butler, who looked at it exactly as if it were a soiled handkerchief, she was asked to wait while the butler conveyed it to his master.
Fifteen minutes later she had examined all the furnishings and fixtures of the room and was starting to become impatient, when Mr. Penny himself joined her.
“Mr. Commodore,” he said smoothly, and Fenella tried not to shiver at the oily undertones in his voice and the shifting darkness of his aura. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He wore a smoking jacket of claret colored velvet and carried a small cup of coffee in one hand, the other hand in the pocket of the jacket. To anyone else he would seem nothing more than a well to do gentleman. But Fenella could see that behind the bland mask of his features his eyes glittered.
“I wondered, sir, at your behavior in having the banns read on Sunday.”
Fenella held his gaze and saw his eyes narrow before a smile crossed his face.
“I should not have thought you had it in you, young fellow, just to come right out and say it.”
Fenella shrugged, irritated at her own feeling of accomplishment at being praised by Mr. Penny. “I can see no point in prevaricating, sir,” she replied. “We wagered, you lost. I merely wished to confirm that we agreed upon our understanding of the matter.”
“Indeed,” replied Mr. Penny affably, taking a seat and a sip of his coffee without offering a chair to Fenella. “That is exactly what happened.”
Fenella sat too, but warily. What was this game Mr. Penny was playing? “Then I do not understand your actions, sir.”
“My actions, you impudent pup, have nothing to do with you.”
Mr. Penny stood back up and Fenella, having just sat down and now being forced to look up to Mr. Penny, felt at a decided disadvantage. She started to stand, only to have Mr. Penny push her by the shoulder back into the chair, his eyes malicious.
“Since you saw fit to cheat at the game, I did not take the results as having any meaning.”
“Cheated?” Fenella knew enough about London society to know she should be outraged to have this slight cast against her. Mr. Penny had turned his back on her and was walking away. She jumped up out of her chair. “I say, that is not to be tolerated. I most certainly did not cheat.”
“Oh?” Mr. Penny spun back around. “Then just how did the card turn from a ten into a two?”
“It did no such thing.” Fenella swallowed and she was no longer able to look Mr. Penny directly in the eye. “It is impossible.”
“Perhaps, Mr. Commodore, but I am more inclined to believe that there was some sleight of hand involved. Sir Walter confirms that the card, when turned, was a ten. Tell me,” he came right up to Fenella as if inviting her to share a secret, “how did you pull off such a trick? For you do not seem bright enough to me to be able to do such a thing.”
Fenella swallowed, alarmed at Mr. Penny’s nearness. “I tell you, I did not. And furthermore, the remainder of the gentlemen at the gambling hell will back me up. The card was a two. And you lost.” Fenella had regained sufficient composure that she could look back into Mr. Penny’s eyes in short-lived triumph. “Kindly call off the banns, sir. I expect, as a gentleman, you understand the rules of a wager.”
Fenella couldn’t understand why the ghost of a smile crossed Mr. Penny’s lips, until he said, “Yes indeed I do, Mr. Commodore. Which is why when the bet was not entered into the betting book at the establishment, I was under no compulsion to be bound by it.”
Fenella’s shoulders slumped and her mouth fell open for a moment. The glitter in Mr. Penny’s eyes was back.
“The betting book?” Her tone was forlorn.
“The betting book,” he confirmed. “Without record of the transaction, neither of us are bound by the outcome.” Under his satisfied gaze, Fenella felt her face turn red, then white.
“I did not know,” she said simply, and Mr. Penny nodded.
“I thought as much.” He came in close to Fenella, close enough that she could smell the coffee on his breath. His words were a sneer. “You self-indulgent little turd. Did you really think I would throw away Mary Prior’s wealth on the turn of a card? So, you could have your little romantic fantasy? You do not know me at all.” He turned away and with a wave of his hand said, “Get out of my house. You disgust me.”
With no other avenue left, Fenella whipped out the scissors from inside her clothes, moved silently up behind Mr. Penny and snipped a tiny part of his aura away, no more than an inch square. Instantly the scissors disappeared.
Mr. Penny let out a surprised yelp and spun back around to find Fenella right behind him. “What did you do?” he said furiously, searching himself for injury. “Was it a sword? A knife? Answer me.”
Fenella put her hands behind her back and tried for an innocent expression. “I do not know what you are talking about,” she said. “There is no injury.” Which indeed there was not, to Mr. Penny’s physical being. His aura, on the other hand, gyrated and flung around as if was in its death throes.
Mr. Penny threw his coffee cup aside without regard for its contents and grabbed a handful of Fenella’s shirt front. “You had better not have done anything, Commodore. Do you have any idea what I could do to you? With two words I could have you sunk to the bottom of the Thames. Do not ever darken my doorstep again.” He spat the words at Fenella, propelling her backward as he did, out of the waiting room and toward the exit.
Alarmed, Fenella tried to find purchase with her boot-clad feet but to no avail. She had no defence against Mr. Penny’s attack. She was much lighter than him (and lighter again than she looked), so he had no difficulty in steering her out of the room and out of the house.
With one last push, he let go of her shirt and Fenella fell hard on her backside on the other side of the doorstep. Her hat, cane and gloves were thrown out behind her, and the door slammed hard enough to shake the house’s foundations.
But despite her aching butt, Fenella smiled. From wi
thin her coat, she brought out the piece of Mr. Penny’s aura she had managed to cut away – dark and foreboding, it seemed to absorb all the light around it. It wriggled in her grasp like a worm cut in two, and she looked at it in disgusted fascination for a moment before stowing it back in her coat, standing up and straightening her clothes, and sauntering away from Mr. Penny’s door as if she had not a care in the world.
Chapter Nine.
Eldryth’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly when Fenella arrived back at headquarters with the sample of Mr. Penny’s aura.
“I had thought you decided it was not ethical,” she remarked, and a frown darkened Fenella’s brow. She hadn’t told Eldryth that, had she?
“When I could not persuade Mr. Penny by other means, I realised it was the only way,” she replied, her thoughts in turmoil. Had Lachlan told Eldryth of their conversation? Surely not.
Eldryth nodded and held the squirming slice of aura up to the light. As before, it seemed to darken everything around it, and it struggled like a cat about to have a bath. But Eldryth, holding it in a vice-like pinch between two of her fingers, said, “Come along with me to the laboratory.”
Very much unlike a laboratory on earth, the laboratory at headquarters was a large open space, white, of course, with glass bottles and cylinders containing every shade and form lining the walls. Liquids, gases, and plants along one long side; metals, samples of different types of earth, wood, and pulverised stone along the other. The back wall held living tissue samples.
“Quick,” commanded Eldryth with a click of her fingers. “What happens when you add pure essence of virgin’s tears to an aura?”
“It… thinks about kittens? I don’t know.”
Fenella noticed that Eldryth almost cracked a smile, but said in her normal tones, “It reveals the true nature of the aura.”
“And I suppose we have a stash of essence of virgin’s tears around here somewhere?”