Dark Mirror 2 - Dark Passage (7 page)

Tory looked innocent. “Not the Mansfields in general. I’m the black sheep. Practically a changeling. I don’t look like anyone else in the family.”

“Roger knows of my modest ability, so there’s no need to claim you’re a changeling.” Sarah nibbled thoughtfully on an iced cake. “After you were revealed as a mageling, he and I had a long talk.” Her fingers tightened on the delicate china of her cup. “Honesty was necessary if our betrothal was to survive.”

If Lord Roger had broken with Sarah, no one would have blamed him. Many would have said he’d done exactly the right thing. “I’m very glad you two decided to marry in spite of my scandalous abilities,” Tory said quietly. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”

“I’m a politician. I don’t embarrass easily,” Roger said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Someday you might even be an asset to my career.”

“I hope our children will grow up in a world where there is more tolerance of magic,” Sarah said. “But enough of that! For the next fortnight, Cecilia and I intend to see that you have a splendid time, Tory. There will be a ball to celebrate the wedding, and Cecilia has promised she’ll invite every attractive young man in the neighborhood for you to flirt with.”

Tory laughed. Though she didn’t have much interest in flirting with anyone but Allarde, a ball would be delightful. “My first ball! You know I love to dance. How many guests are staying here at Layton Place?”

“Most of the men are out hunting at the moment,” Sarah said, “but the house is full up, not counting everyone’s servants. Your room is tiny, and Molly will be sleeping on a pallet on your floor. Several of the neighboring estates are hosting guests, too. It’s the largest house party at Layton Place since Geoffrey and Cecilia moved in.”

“She must be frantic!” Tory said. “It’s time I paid my respects to her.” She eyed the almost empty plate of nut balls. Should she…?

She should. Sweeping up the last two nut balls, she said, “I’ll see you at dinner.” She curtsied gracefully, then left in search of her hostess. Geoffrey would be hunting with his guests. Where might Cecilia be?

Tory visualized her sweet-natured sister-in-law, then searched the house for that energy. Ah, the stillroom, of course. Cecilia was an expert at making medicines and cosmetics and other concoctions used around the house. Plus, the stillroom was a good place to hide from her guests if she wanted some peace.

Since the servants’ stairs were nearby, Tory descended that way. She emerged in the hall next to the kitchen. It was full of tempting scents and busy servants. Presiding over the staff was a tall and majestic cook who had trained at Fairmount and followed Geoffrey to Shropshire when he married and established his own household.

Tory poked her head in the door and said to the cook, “The ginger cakes were particularly fine today, Mrs. Lane.”

Mrs. Lane looked up from the sauce she was stirring with a broad smile. “’Tis fine to see you, Lady Tory! But you’re looking too thin. Don’t be shy about coming down here for a bit to eat between meals. You need fattening.”

“I shall take you up on that,” Tory promised before heading down the flagstone passage to the stillroom. She opened the door and stepped into a chamber warmed by a fire and redolent with the scents of herbs.

Thick bunches of sage and savory and lavender hung from the ceiling, along with braids of onions and garlic. Cecilia was perched on a stool by the worktable and carefully measuring a dark liquid to add to a bowl of some waxy substance. “Cecilia?”

“Tory!” Her sister-in-law looked up with pleasure. “I’m so glad you made it here safely.”

Before she’d even finished speaking, her two-and-a-half-year-old son, Jamie, buzzed around the corner of the worktable. “Aunt Tory!”

She scooped up his warm, solid little body. “Goodness, how you’ve grown since I last saw you!” Which had been on the fateful day that had made her an outcast. But as she held her nephew, she couldn’t be sorry for what she’d done.

“I won’t be able to lift him much longer.” Cecilia came around the table and gave Tory a hug. Fair and soft-spoken, she wasn’t a great beauty, but she had a quiet charm that had captured Geoffrey’s heart the first time they danced at a London ball.

Tory set her wriggling nephew on the floor. “Did you mind when Sarah asked if the wedding could be held here with my scandalous self as a guest?”

“I was the one who suggested it,” Cecilia replied. “Sarah wrote about how difficult Lord Fairmount was being, so I told her she could be married from Layton Place.” She lifted a bottle from a shelf behind her. “Would you like to taste my elderberry cordial? This year’s batch turned out well. It’s very good for coughs and colds, so you should have a few sips after your long journey.”

“I’d love some.” The cordial was sweet and tangy, with a strong kick of alcohol. As its warmth curled through her, Tory held Jamie in her lap and chatted with her sister-in-law. Lackland Abbey seemed a very long way off.

Relaxed and happy, Tory headed upstairs through the main part of the house. The enclosed staircase led up to the ground floor, and she found herself behind two women she didn’t know, presumably Hawthorne relations. They were chatting about the weather and activities planned. Tory didn’t pay attention until the older of the women said in a hushed voice, “My maid tells me that Lord Smithson has invited the other sister, the mageling. She was sent to Lackland, you know.”

The younger woman squeaked with delighted horror. “He
didn’t
! I hope she has the decency to stay at Lackland rather than come here to ruin the wedding!”

Tory gasped, feeling as if she’d been drenched in ice water. The warm reception from her family had made her temporarily forget how deeply most aristocrats despised mages.

“If she comes, I don’t suppose we can give her the cut direct since she’s sister to our host,” the first woman said with regret. “Her parents aren’t coming to Lady Sarah’s wedding because they refuse to stay in the same house with a creature like her.”

“Very proper of them,” her companion said. “Do you know the girl’s name?”

Tory’s icy shock turned to hot fury. Controlling her voice with effort, she said brightly, “Lady Victoria Mansfield. Alas, I didn’t have the decency to stay away.”

Startled, the two women swung around to stare at her. Tory spent an instant thinking of the various ways she could justify their opinions of magelings before giving them her sweetest smile. “Don’t worry. Magic isn’t contagious.”

Head high, she swept past the women, glad that she hadn’t embarrassed her family by misbehaving.

But, oh, she’d been tempted!

CHAPTER 7

Tory tapped her foot to the music, thinking wistfully that this wasn’t what she’d imagined for her first ball back in the days when she’d thought herself normal. She’d dreamed of being presented to the beau monde in London. Her debut would have been held in the splendid ballroom of Fairmount House with her parents standing beside her.

Her ballgown would be both innocent and dazzling. The handsomest, most eligible young men in Britain would beg for dances. One or two would probably be inspired to offer marriage by the end of their dance, though Tory would cast her eyes down demurely and say something like, “Sir, you honor me, but this is so sudden!”

Unless that first dance was with Allarde. She might have been ready to accept him at the end of a single dance. She smiled to herself at the thought.

This Christmas country house ball in honor of Sarah and Roger did not match her dreams. There was less formality and half the people present were trying to ignore her existence without actually giving her the cut direct.

She didn’t have a dazzling new gown, either. With private defiance, she wore the pretty sprigged muslin with sapphire blue ribbons she had worn only once, on the fateful day that had sent her into exile. She’d thought the garment ruined, but Molly had fixed it up as good as new. The gown was very becoming, so why not wear it tonight?

Tory sat out the first two dances since her brother and Lord Roger were obliged to dance with Cecilia and Sarah and no one else asked. But Lord Roger partnered her for the third dance. He was an excellent dancer and he made her laugh.

Her brother appeared to claim her for the fourth dance. Large and blond, Geoffrey looked quite a bit like Sarah and not at all like Tory, but he’d always been an excellent brother. “May I have this dance, Lady Victoria?” he asked with a formal bow.

She curtsied in return. “It will be my pleasure, Lord Smithson.”

Formality ended as he led her to where a country dance was forming. “You’ve been holding up very well, Tory,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t blame you if you clawed some of these vicious tabbies.”

“It’s been a near thing,” she admitted. “But I didn’t want to embarrass my family any more than I already have.”

“I will never be ashamed of you.” The longways dance called for a line of men to face a line of women. As they took their positions, Geoffrey glanced at the door. “I’m expecting a few more guests. Ones you should enjoy.”

The music began and Tory concentrated on the dancing. Geoffrey had often been her partner when she was learning, so they danced well together. As they moved down the lines of dancers, she was pleased to see that the men didn’t shrink from taking her hand and whirling her around. They didn’t seem to think she was contagious.

The atmosphere eased enough that she was asked for the next dance by a male who wasn’t related to her. Her partner was a shy young fellow from the neighborhood, and not a very good dancer, but his gaze was admiring.

The dance was just ending when the door opened and Geoffrey’s late guests arrived. First was a tall, distinguished man of advanced years, but his back was straight and his gaze shrewd. On his arm was an elegant silver-haired woman. Behind walked …

Allarde!
Tory was so startled that she tripped over her partner’s feet and almost pulled them both down. She apologized without taking her gaze from Allarde.

Seeing him unexpectedly made her freshly aware of his striking handsomeness. She’d first seen him playing ball with the other Lackland boys. His chiseled features and perfectly proportioned body were like a Greek sculptor portraying a great athlete, or even a god. But better because he radiated life and strength.

Sensing her regard, he turned. His face lit with the same surprise and pleasure Tory felt.

She recovered her wits enough to thank her partner for the dance. By the time she’d dismissed him, her brother was approaching, Allarde at his side. Geoffrey said, “Allarde was one of my fags at Eton, Tory. Now he’s at Lackland Abbey.”

Tory offered her hand and Allarde bowed over it. “I have seen Lord Allarde in the Lackland playing fields,” she said demurely. “There are viewing holes in the fence that divides the schools. One of the favorite occupations of the girls is watching the boys. Lord Allarde is much admired.”

Her brother laughed. “Human nature in action. I must go speak to his parents, but I wanted you two to get acquainted.”

When her brother moved away, Tory said mischievously, “I assume you won’t be afraid to dance with me for fear my magic is contagious, Lord Allarde.”

Laughing, he proffered his arm. “Indeed not. May I have the next dance, Lady Victoria?”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “It would be my great pleasure, sir.” Though both of them used formal manners as if they’d just been introduced, under the surface they bubbled with delight.

Allarde led her to a quiet corner of the ballroom. “This is wonderful! As we drove over here, I thought how unfortunate it was that I’d be in your brother’s house when you weren’t.”

“My sister moved her wedding here so I could attend,” Tory explained. “I didn’t receive her letter until you’d left the school. I never expected to see you, though. I thought your family seat was in Worcestershire?”

“It is, but Layton Place is right on the county border. Kemperton Hall is only a few miles away. Closer if you ride cross country.” The musicians struck up a tune for the next dance. They joined a square of four couples that was forming.

“We can’t really talk here,” Allarde said under his breath. “On the day after Boxing Day, can I take you on a ride to Kemperton Hall? I’d like you to see the estate.”

“I’d love that.” As she took her place beside him in the square, she said with a smile, “The dance after this is the supper dance.”

“Then I shall claim that, too,” he murmured, his gray eyes warm.

It wasn’t like the first ball that Tory had expected. It was much, much better.

CHAPTER 8

Christmas Day was dark and damp and
cold
. Cynthia lay on her back and stared gloomily at the crack in the ceiling. Her bedroom was dim in the pearl-grayness of an overcast winter afternoon, and a biting wind from the channel rattled the windowpanes. She should rise and put more coal on the fire, or at least pull a blanket over herself, but she felt too dismal.

This was her third Christmas at Lackland, and the worst. There were only a handful of girls left in the school, none of them friends. The first day after the school emptied out, she’d arrived in the refectory for breakfast and moved to join the table where all the other students were.

As soon as she touched a chair, the other girls had stood en masse, pivoted sharply, and moved to another table so smoothly that they must have planned it in advance. Cynthia gasped, humiliated. If only Tory had stayed! Everyone liked Tory. If she’d been with Cynthia, no one would have moved away.

That night, she took Tory’s stupid steamed pudding and carried it down into the Labyrinth. She’d hoped that some of the Irregulars might be there. Even magelings from the village whom she hardly knew would be better than nothing. Among the Irregulars, she was respected for what she’d done on the other side of Merlin’s mirror.

But the hall and maze of passages were empty and echoed like a tomb. She left the pudding on a table with a note offering it to anyone who wanted it, and good riddance. The stupid pudding would probably still be there when everyone returned from holiday. Christmas puddings not only had the shape, size, and density of cannonballs, they were almost as durable.