Lady Mary's Muddle (Seven Wishes Book 4)

by Bree Verity

  Louisa and Mama were standing in the doorway of the parlor. With his eyes and his expression, the butler sought out Mama’s approval to carry out Mary’s order.

  “At least wait for your father to come home,” begged Mama. “He will know what to do.”

  “If I wait, Mama, Percy could be dead.”

  Her mother hesitated for a moment more, then, with an inclination of her head, gave permission for the butler to hail the cab. She walked toward Mary and gave her a warm, strong hug.

  “I do understand, my Mary. Matters of the heart feel as if they supersede even the strongest of social boundaries. Do be careful, my dear. Keep Lady Pound with you, or one of the maids at all times. Protect your virtue.”

  Mary, despite the worry in her breast, smiled fondly at her mother. “I shall do all that I can to keep my reputation intact, Mama,” she said. “All that I can.”

  And with this very unsatisfactory declaration, she swished out of the house and into the waiting cab, giving directions to Percy’s house as she did.

  * * *

  “Of all the…” Fenella held back the curse, unwilling to swear in front of her mentor, who had just delivered her the news that her happily ever after was still in jeopardy.

  “Oh, I agree,” replied Eldryth, her hooded eyes twinkling for a moment before returning to serious. “You’ve worked so hard, and come so far, only for this to happen.”

  “So, what do I do? I’m not allowed to use my magic on anyone except Mary. I can’t go in and heal him.”

  “No,” replied Eldryth slowly, glancing at Fenella with renewed interest.

  Fenella blushed, realizing that she had revealed more about herself to Eldryth than she wished. “I…I mean, if I had healing powers,” she amended, knowing it sounded lame. Two spots of color appeared on her pale cheeks.

  “Of course,” replied Eldryth, straight-faced. “That was what I thought you meant.”

  The two she-fae stared at each other for a moment, Fenella’s imagination throwing up all the possible fates that Eldryth could mete out upon her if she found out that Fenella could work blackdark. Her wings betrayed her, fluttering wildly.

  “So,” said Fenella to ease her discomfort. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing.” Eldryth walked around her desk and sat down. “There is literally nothing you can do. If the young man dies, the young man dies.”

  “And my happily ever after?”

  “You’ll need to repeat it.”

  Fenella almost started to complain but stopped herself. Really, it was nothing Eldryth could fix. Death was not something that any fae had control over.

  Or did they? Fenella could heal, she wondered if that meant she had power over death?

  Even if she didn’t, could she heal Sir Percy? After working so hard toward Mary’s happily ever after, and seeing her so jubilant, it seemed unfair in the extreme that she should be denied it at the last moment.

  She pursed her lips. As Mary’s fairy godmother, surely she had an obligation to save the source of her happily ever after. It made no sense otherwise to even have healing powers.

  And besides, it was possible she wouldn’t be able to heal the human at all. So, if she tried and failed, nobody even needed to know.

  “Fenella?” said Eldryth, a note of warning in her voice. “What are you thinking?”

  Her mentor was watching her with narrowed eyes. “There is nothing you can do,” she repeated firmly. Fenella nodded.

  “I know.”

  “Then I suggest you go home, rest up and we’ll see where things are at a little later.”

  With a wordless nod, Fenella left Eldryth’s office with only one destination in mind.

  She had to get to Ravyn, get her brother, and get back to London.

  Chapter Twenty.

  Phineas put up no fight at all when Fenella asked him to come with her. It shouldn’t have surprised her – her twin had always been game for an adventure – but she thought he had matured a little and gained some sense of responsibility since joining Ravyn.

  Apparently not. He grinned widely, his bright blue eyes shining. “When are we going?” he asked, his excitement palpable in the shimmer of his wings.

  “Now?”

  “Let’s go.”

  Fenella was glad she had not seen either Nazryth or Maryse when she went to Ravyn to collect her brother. Nazryth had previously warned her against using blackdark in the human world. Nobody knew exactly what the outcome would be. She knew neither of them would sanction what she and Phineas were about to do, and she wasn’t sure that she would be able to confidently continue if they withdrew their support. Better, in this instance, to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

  She was also glad for the company of her brother. Their relationship had improved since their joint use of the blackdark to cure. It was as if there was an extra string to their bond, an extra tie that bound them. Fenella found it comforting, albeit still a little difficult to accept. But Phineas’ stark excitement for the project reinvigorated Fenella’s enthusiasm.

  Together, they appeared in London, beside some bushes across the road from Mary’s house. Phineas was practically glowing with anticipation, his eyes and head swiveling from side to side drinking in all the sights.

  Fenella looked at London through fresh eyes. She had never been particularly fond of the city which, despite its citizens trying hard to keep it clean, never really threw off the mud and soot that clothed it. The weather seemed perpetually gloomy, there were always puddles on the cobblestones. But looking around, she could see that there was a kind of charm to the place, perhaps especially at this time in the early evening, when the streetlamps were being lit, and the steady stream of humanity eased off as people returned home for the night.

  She smiled fondly at Phineas, then looked over the street to find Mary. Discovering her godchild was not in her own house, Fenella cast her eyes further.

  There. Mary was in a house several blocks away – which must be where Percy was as well. Fenella couldn’t imagine she would be anywhere else while her love was so ill.

  “Come on,” she said to Phineas, grabbing his arm and pulling him along, still gaping.

  “It’s magnificent,” Phineas breathed. “Look at the architecture.”

  Fenella shrugged, preferring the natural beauty of fae cities like P'ffayn, which looked as if its delicate, lacelike structures had erupted from the ground as organically as the trees they were built around. London was square and monumental and, to Fenella’s mind, very human.

  They had to walk to where Mary was, the use of wings being entirely against the law. That was one rule than Fenella was only too happy to agree with – if it became generally known that humanlike creatures with wings were about, humans would make it their mission to capture one, perhaps to display at one of their zoos or worse, to cut them open just to see what was inside.

  Approaching the brightly painted door, Fenella rapped smartly and stepped back. Phineas was still engaged in staring at everything he could, and she elbowed him to attention as the door was opened.

  “Can I help you?” the butler asked. His demeanor was faultless, but Fenella could see the strain around his eyes and the black smudges under them. The butler had experienced a sleepless night or two.

  “May I see Lady Mary Prior?” Fenella asked. “It’s a matter of some urgency.”

  The butler frowned and for a moment Fenella thought he was about to say she wasn’t there. But his shoulders slumped just a touch, and he bowed and showed them into a smartly fitted out reception room.

  Before leaving them, he turned to Fenella. “May I tell her who is calling?”

  “Just tell her it’s Fenella.”

  After a minute there was a loud, “Oh!” from an upstairs room and Mary clattered down the stairs and threw herself into Fenella’s arms.

  “I am so glad you are here,” she cried. “Tell me you can fix this.”

  Fenella held Mary at arm’s length, concerned by her godch
ild’s pale countenance, and the racing colors of distress in her aura.

  “Are you alright?”

  Mary tried for a brave smile, but her face crumpled. “No, I am not. Doctor Samuels no longer believes his life can be saved. We’ve called for Father James, who is on his way to read Percy his last rites.” Mary looked up at Fenella, a faint light of hope in her eyes. “Can you do anything?”

  Fenella put a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “We are here to try,” she said quietly. “This is my twin brother, Phineas. Together, we work healing magic. But we’ve never worked on a human before.”

  “Is it dangerous?” Mary’s eyes widened and Fenella hastened to reassure her.

  “No, it’s more that it would just be ineffective. And besides,” she added with a wry smile, “even if it was, it’s not like we’d be making him worse.”

  Phineas elbowed her sharply, and Fenella realised too late how insensitive her words were. She tried to cover up. “I mean, the worst we can do is nothing.” She tried for an encouraging smile.

  Mary just sighed. “Please do come along upstairs,” she said, turning to lead the way. With a deep, calming breath, Fenella followed, as did a much more subdued version of Phineas.

  Arriving at Percy’s chambers, Mary said quietly, “It might be better if I go in and explain first, instead of all three of us barging in.”

  While Fenella nodded, she warned, “No mention of fairy godmothers though, or magic. We are simply doctors.”

  “Of course.” Mary disappeared behind the door and shortly, Fenella and Phineas heard voices, Mary’s and a gentleman’s. And while they seemed to be disagreeing, albeit in whispers, a moment later Mary was back, crooking a finger to beckon them inside.

  The room was dark and hot with an unpleasant smell in the air, smoke and stale herbs and infection, that bullied its way into Fenella’s nostrils, reaching down into her stomach and roiling it in a sickening twist. She fought off the urge to march to the window and throw it open. Beside her, she knew Phineas felt the same.

  She was surprised by the number of people in the room – an older couple who Fenella assumed were Percy’s parents, a younger, somberly dressed man who must be the valet, and a woman in similar somber garb who Fenella thought must be a housekeeper or maid. All were pale and drawn, the women with tracks on their faces, the men with shining eyes that spoke of unshed tears.

  Poor Percy lay still in bed, the only movement a trickle of perspiration that started at his hairline and rolled down the side of his face. His aura was faint, but the angry purple and red lines through it made it clear to Fenella that he carried severe amounts of infection. She caught Phineas’ eye; he gave a grave shake of his head.

  The older gentleman walked over to Phineas, standing between him and Percy. A light malice emanated from him which put her on alert.

  “Lady Mary tells us that you have some specialist medical skills.”

  While his attitude was brusque, the undertones of his voice conveyed that he held little hope of a cure.

  “Yes. My sister and I have studied… abroad.”

  He turned to Fenella, squinting. “You’re a woman doctor? Such a thing is unheard of. What training have you received?”

  Thankfully for Fenella, Mary broke in sharply. “Where their skills originated is hardly relevant at this time, sir. Since Doctor Samuels has washed his hands of things, surely it would do no harm to allow them to try?”

  The gentleman threw a sharp glare at Mary. “I am only thinking of my son’s well-being,” he snapped, then sighed heavily as his wife moved forward and placed a placating hand on his arm. He threw a wan smile at her, and then Mary. “Forgive me, my dear, I am a little overwrought.”

  “It is only to be expected,” Mary replied diplomatically before falling quiet. This would be a decision for Percy’s father to make. He returned his suspicious gaze to the two fae. After a long moment, he breathed deeply.

  “Very well. You cannot make things worse.”

  And with those encouraging words he allowed Fenella and Phineas to approach the sick man.

  “What exactly are we going to do?” murmured Phineas, leaning in to speak directly in Fenella’s ear. “We don’t really know anything about healing humans.”

  “Shh,” replied Fenella. “We’ll have a look and see.”

  Alongside the bed, Fenella lay the back of her hand against Percy’s forehead. He burned at a temperature no human should. She winced. Phineas was right – Fenella only knew human anatomy by what she had learned in the textbooks at fairy godmother college, which was rudimentary at best.

  “May we see his wound?” she asked. Perhaps that would shed some light on the situation.

  Without a word the valet stepped forward and threw the bedcovers back from the lower right side of the bed. Underneath, Percy’s leg was heavily bandaged. Fenella exhaled slowly and started to unwind the bandages.

  She did not get far before a dreadful smell of sickness and rot assailed her nostrils, the bandage came away stained in a ghastly rainbow of green, brown, yellow and red. Some of the colors were almost black.

  Peeling away the last of the bandage, the wound was uncovered; a suppurating, swollen dark red hole in his upper thigh, just above his knee. Fenella pressed alongside it, and a veritable fountain of new pus drooled from the wound.

  It was stomach turning. The skin looked dead directly around the hole, but further out was red and angry, as well as coated in vile fester. Staring at it, Fenella could remember nothing of her human anatomy classes at all. This kind of wound was unheard of in Byd Tal’m – a fae’s bone structure and musculature did not respond in such a way to such a wound.

  Phineas elbowed her out of the way, and moved his face close to the wound, before turning his head as if he was listening to it. After a moment, he beckoned Fenella forward. “Look at this,” he said over his shoulder to Fenella, and straightening up, he held a hand over the wound. He circled his hand, and then pulled upward, and hideous mucus billowed from the wound. Percy moved restlessly, a wince crossing his face, before he settled back down into a stupor.

  The rest of the occupants of the room protested Phineas’ actions. Fenella grimaced at him, ineffectively mopping at the goop with the collection of bandages in her hand. “If you’re just doing that to try to gross me out, you’re doing a good job.”

  “No,” Phineas replied. “Look. Properly.”

  Fenella frowned at the wound and was surprised to see the tiniest piece of fabric, thick with pus, embedded in the discharge. “Tweezers?” she asked nobody in particular, and Mary raced from the room, returning with a small silver pair. Fenella took them, and picked out the debris, bile rising in the back of her throat. She turned to the others in the room, holding the tiny scrap away from herself.

  The valet, in a voice of frustration, said, “I knew the wound was insufficiently evacuated. I knew it.” He turned to Percy’s parents. “That old charlatan of a doctor. I knew it happened all too quickly. I should have insisted that he clean it again.”

  Percy’s father put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “It is no fault of yours,” he said gravely. Then he turned to Phineas. “How on earth did you know that was still in there? And what was all that waving of your hand? I have never seen medicine practiced quite like that.”

  Phineas’ eyes widened along with his smile; Fenella knew he was about to spin a tale.

  “We learned everything we know from Nackeren, the master mage of the Fazirarbian people of North West Angolia,” he said without batting an eyelid. “They work with the energies around the body as well as the energies within. I think in your medicine they call them humors.”

  “Fascinating,” mumbled Percy’s father with a slow nod, before his eyes returned to the sleeping figure of his son. “Will he improve now?”

  Phineas shrugged. “There is still much inflammation,” he said. “But the lad is young, and perhaps, with a bit of luck and a little more… manipulating of the energy, we can put him in the right f
rame of mind.”

  “I do wish you would try,” piped up Percy’s mother.

  “Yes, please,” added Mary warmly.

  Phineas nodded wisely. “Certainly. Fenella, I could use your assistance on this ‘energy exchange.’”

  Under her breath Fenella grumbled, “I’ll energy exchange you in a minute,” but she took up a position across the bed from her brother, glaring at him.

  To her surprise, he started to chant the words they used to access the young fae girl’s soul, when they cured her soul sickness. Fenella, brows raised, and eyes fixed on Phineas’ face, fell into the rhythm as well, wondering what her brother had in mind.

  Whatever it was, it meant a visit to Sir Percy Pound’s soul space.

  Chapter Twenty-One.

  Once again, they found themselves in the ruddy cavern of a soul space. Above their heads, the light-red tinged sky fell to the equally red-tinged horizon, making the area appear infinite, even though it was little more than maybe twenty-four feet square.

  This time, instead of coming across a pale young girl strapped to a table with soul sickness moving through her body, they were greeted by a ghostly version of Sir Percy Pound who came striding up to them from out of nowhere, his face wreathed in smiles.

  “Welcome, welcome,” he said, shaking first Phineas’ hand and then Fenella’s, the enthusiastic pumping action enough to jar her shoulder. She pulled her hand away as soon as was polite, with Percy continuing, “What brings you here?”

  Fenella smiled uncertainly at the soul, not entirely sure how she should respond. It was almost as if the soul didn’t know what was going on out in the physical world. From what Fenella understood, the soul was intimately connected to the physical body, but soul-Percy’s cheerful demeanor, and indeed his question to them, made Fenella pause.

  She turned to Phineas and with a quick jerk of her head, told him to speak to the soul. He grimaced but cleared his throat. “We came to have a word with you, actually.”

  “With me? How charming.” Out of nowhere three comfortable winged chairs appeared in front of a roaring fireplace in a large library. “Please, sit.” He took a seat and waved them over with all the eagerness of a puppy expecting a game.