Elves and Escapades (Scholars and Sorcery Book 2) (11 page)

What was I expecting in any case, an ardent love letter? I couldn’t have sent her one myself. In any case I have no way of knowing if she is any great shakes as a letter writer as a rule. I’m not much good myself.
 

I somewhat shamefacedly keep the letter secreted in my drawer where I can take it out whenever I like anyway, memorising her handwriting. It’s very nice handwriting, firmly controlled and delicate all at once. Nothing like the childish scrawl which is the despair of the mistresses.

 
“I miss that kid,” Cecily says, unexpectedly. “She never says much, but one gets used to having her around. At least now she’s not so scared of us. It was rather horrid, feeling waves of fear every time she came near. I felt like I was a dragon that had been unexpectedly crammed into a gym slip.”

“It wasn’t in the least her fault,” I say quickly.

“No need to ruffle your feathers at me, you dear old mother-hen.” Cecily smiles at me affectionately. “I’m quite aware that it was our precious Diana’s fault. Still, it was most unpleasant.”

 
I wonder what it is like to be Cecily and have her gift. For the first time it occurs to me that it must be utterly dreadful, trying to block out all the emotions around her all the time for the sake of honour and comfort. Exams, for example, must be nightmarish, with everyone’s fear and trepidation hanging in a miasma over the room. I realise that I have always been so fixed on keeping my own emotions in check around Cecily that it hasn’t really occurred to me that everyone else must do the same, and how hurtful that must be for her, knowing people are afraid to be themselves around her.
 

Impulsively, I give her arm a squeeze. She smiles back, her brown eyes placid and understanding.

“Thanks for everything, old girl,” I say.

“I’m not sure why you’re in such a grateful mood, but I shan’t quarrel with it. It comes in far too handy for my purposes.”

“Purposes?”

Cecily gives me a sidelong look, almost a smirk. “I have a favour to ask of you, while you’re in an accommodating mood.”

“Anything for my Head Girl,” I say, tilting my head to her. “You need only say the word.”

“Don’t be too gallant before you’ve heard my terms.” I follow her into my study, and she shuts the door behind us. “Oh, Charles, you know it’s terribly important I win a scholarship of some kind if I want to go to university.”
 

I nod. I have no real idea what owning a station in Australia implies about wealth, other than it apparently involves unthinkably large tracts of wild land, but Cecily has mentioned before that her aunt’s investment in her schooling runs out when she leaves Fernleigh Manor. “Well, you’re lousy with brains. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re right, but I want to be on the safe side. Miss Carroll has organised a woman professor friend of hers to come work with a few of us going in for exams for an afternoon, to really identify our weak spots so we can concentrate on them. Unfortunately, the timing…”

“Don’t tell me you and Esther will be out for the next match!” I wail. They are hands-down my best players.

“Oh, nothing so fearsome as that. At least, I hope you will think not.” Cecily is prevaricating far more than is common with her, and my ears are pricking up in response. “It’s just it’s on half day this Wednesday and, well… I had sort of agreed to go with Gladys and take the lower forms on a nature ramble, weather permitting.”

“It would be a shame to let them down,” I agree, somewhat confused.

“Of course! Which is why you’re taking them instead.”

“Cecily!” I howl.
 

“Oh, Charley, angel, please do take them. I know how busy you’ve been, and what a darling, but—well, technically there should be at least two prefects on an excursion.”

“Must it be me? I never have a breath to myself, and the other Houses are chock full of prefects.”

Cecily takes a deep breath. “Yes. But how many of them get along with Gladys?”

I blink, lost for words.

Cecily presses her advantage. “I haven’t told you the worst of it. Frances is also coming with some of her Guides, working on some kind of nature badge.”

“I see.”

“You do? I need a buffer between them, and you’re from School House and you’re on friendly terms with them both. You love the kids, and they love you. It has to be you, Charley.” She grasps my upper arms in her earnestness, her brown eyes melting like chocolate in sun, and I know it’s all up.

“I suppose I owe you, Cissy,” I say, helplessly.

“More than you know,” she says, obscurely. “Oh, my dear girl, thank you!” She drops a smacking kiss on my cheek, just as the door opens.

“Need I be jealous?” Esther asks, smoothly.

Cecily beams at her. “Rejoice with me, beloved. Our Charles has come to my rescue in my hour of need.”

“Like the brave knight she is.” Esther takes us in with dancing eyes. “Do you know, I’m not a prefect myself, but I rather fancy a ramble in the cold and frost, in good company. I certainly don’t need coaching on my non-existent weak spots,” she adds, with causal arrogance. Cecily grimaces at me.

I grin at Esther in some relief at the thought of not being left alone, a few dozen juniors more or less to the good, with feuding cousins of uncertain temper. “Thanks, Es.”

“Oh, no thanks needed. I might as well enjoy your company while I can.” There’s an edge in her voice that gives me an odd twinge in my heart, but her smile is agreeable enough.

Cecily, after all, is in high spirits enough for the both of us.

“Are there going to be magical beasts in the woods?” Rhoda demands, hopping from one well shod foot to the other. “Not stupid boring fairies, I mean, interesting ones.”

“Can you call them to us?” Ethelberta wants to know.

All of a sudden I understand why a small nature ramble has turned into a large excursion of lower formers. My talents are, it seems, well known, and more alluring even than an afternoon in company with the Head Girl had been.

“It depends,” I hedge. “What kind of interesting beasts do you have in mind, kidlets?”

“Pegasi.” Sunflame shoots into my mind, and I shake my head abruptly. Rhoda carries on obliviously. “Will o’ wisps. Boggarts. Pixies.
Dragons.
Father says there are real dragons in Cornwall.”

“
Not
dragons.” Alarming child, bouncing up and down with excitement at the thought. “Girls, if you ever see a full size dragon, which is fortunately unlikely, bow, don’t make eye contact, and back away.
Quickly.
Don’t stop to admire it.”
 

“Dragonlings, then.”

“Perhaps. They’re more likely around the cliffs, though, and we’re going inland.” There’s a general sigh of discouragement, and I relent a little. “Look, I’ll cast around a bit. If I sense any, I promise I call them.”

“Aren’t they very dangerous?” Mary pipes up. She and some of the other First formers are a little pinched around the mouths, although determined not to give themselves away in front of the Second formers and the Guides from the Third.

“A little, but not with me around,” I reassure her. “I can keep them calm, and send then away if you—if
anyone
feels a little anxious.”

“Oh, none of us would be so yellow,” Ethelberta says carelessly. The others nod enthusiastically, but I resolve to keep young Mary and a couple of the others by my side in case of any alarming beasts.

“If you’re all quite finished talking nonsense, perhaps we could stop this chattering and get on before night falls?” Gladys throws her scarf over her shoulder.

There’s a general restlessness among the juniors, and a few unpleasant looks sent her way. I feel a little sorry for Gladys, and irritated at the same time. Perhaps I do overindulge the kids a bit; there’s no need to be a martinet to address the balance. Frances isn’t snappish with the Guides, and they are clustered obediently around her. All the younger formers want is for the big girls to take them seriously and join in a bit.

“We’re still waiting on Esther,” I say, carefully keeping my tone even.

Gladys scoffs and tosses her black ponytail. I’m glad that she doesn’t actually say anything that will require a sharp response. The hackles on the back of my neck have risen and I’m wondering why I insist on being her friend at all when she’s so unendurable under pressure. Cecily must have known quite well what she was letting me in for.

“I’m not so sure we should get on at all.” Frances, looking smart in her uniform, is peering worriedly down the drive. “It’s awfully cold and misty to go walking in the woods.”

There’s an outcry of protest from the girls, even her well-trained Guides.
 

Gladys childishly refuses to acknowledge her cousin, so it’s left to me to be bracing. “We’ll stick to the path to the Old Elvish Well, old girl. No chance of getting lost. Miss Carroll would have cancelled the coach if she was worried.”

There’s a furrow between Frances’ eyebrows. “I suppose it will be all right. Miss Carroll wouldn’t send us into danger.”

“And after all,” Carol, a plump young thing in her Guiding blue, hurries to say, “it’s better for our nature badge if we learn about all kinds of nature in bad weather as well as good.”
 

“Did you miss me?” An affectionate arm is slung over my shoulders from behind. “Look at all you good girls, here bright and early. Well, what are you waiting for, Spring?”

Gladys mutters something under her breath and we all pile on the coach. I was expecting to sit with Frances, as Gladys and Esther have become pals of a kind thanks to Cecily’s influence, but the devil has got into Esther and she keeps a firm grip on me. The cousins are forced to sit together. Esther’s lip twitches just the tiniest least discernible bit as she watches them arrange themselves in their seats with cold courtesy.

I can’t help noticing that the young Guides under Frances’ care are quiet and well behaved, while the jumble of other lower formers, including the girls from my teams, are shown up as riotous and undisciplined by contrast. I feel reluctant to take the action I probably should and call them to order. They’re only kids once. Responsibility will turn up for them far too early.

Esther, of course, only bothers to call kids to order when they are annoying her or getting in her way. Privileges of not being a prefect, I suppose. She seems perfectly content to leave them be today, leaning back in her seat and surveying the chattering masses like a benevolent goddess watching her minions.

Outside the coach window, frost lies heavy and glittering on the ground, with dreamy wisps of mist cloaking it. Part of my mind is drifting with thoughts of Rosalind, and how the frost reminds me of her hair. The other half, more prosaically, is taken up with how awkward it is the that we are all bundled up against the chilly air, when we will get hot and sweaty under all those layers with exercise.
 

“I really am interested in whether the cousins can manage the entire trip without saying a word to each other,” Esther murmurs in my ear. “That seems to require far more self control than our Gladys usually shows.”

“Oh, don’t be horrid,” I whisper back. “They’re miserable about it. I wish I could force them to make up somehow. It must be awful.”

Esther purses her lips slightly. “Has Rosalind written to you?”

I scrutinise her expression. She’s watching the silver landscape go by, apparently unconcerned.

“Not much,” I say briefly.

“You didn’t write back to me over Christmas, either. I was a touch worried. Was I right to be?”

I have little idea what she’s asking, and even less idea what to say. I stumble over my words, my head and heart filled with impossible, unspeakable things. “No—well, I think not—Rosalind seemed to be happy.” I pause. “I don’t know why she doesn’t write. We didn’t quarrel, if that’s what you mean.”

“I suppose you would be far more upset if you had. Nevertheless, it would be a mistake,” Esther said carefully, “to expect the same—depth of feeling—from our Welsh maidens. They’re cousins and so they are inclined to sibling quarrels. You need not concern yourself too much with their business.”

My cheeks are flaming. “I’m sure they’re miserable,” I repeat stubbornly.

“Yes, indeed, I’m sure they are. That wasn’t quite my point.” Esther sighs. “Chin up, old darling. Rosalind’s probably just as dreadful a correspondent as you are.” She links her gloved fingers in mine.