Pegasi and Prefects (19 page)

The grin stays frozen on my lips. “You’d be better?” is all I can manage in reply. I want to drip scorn and some distant part of me cringes at how flat and weak I sound instead.

“Of course I would,” Diana says impatiently. “Rosalind’s hopelessly awkward. She can’t possibly come out into society as she is. I’m going to make sure that my family send me to the same finishing school, so I can look after her. Rosalind needs a friend who is of some social use to her and can teach her how to act, not a great clumping tomboy in gumboots. She and her family will have no time for you once we leave here, so you might as well give up on her right now and turn your foul attentions to that evil cat of an Esther, not force them on a girl like Rosalind.”

I hear the crack, and feel the sting on my palm, before I realise what I’ve done. Diana is staring back at me, her eyes bright with tears, one hand held to her cheek where it is flaming red from my blow.

I feel like being sick. Everything my brothers ever told me, everything I believe, about honour, and I’ve hit a girl. Somehow, in my confusion, that’s the worst thing of all. Because I
am
a girl. It’s not like one of my brothers has hit her. It’s boys who have to protect and look after girls, not other girls. Not ever me. Somehow, slapping Diana is proof of that.

“You bully.” Despite the tears, there’s something triumphant in the curve of her mouth, as if I’ve played straight into her hands. “Do you think that just because you’re a prefect I won’t report you for that?”

“You don’t need to,” I say, shakily. “I’ll go straight to Miss Carroll and tell her myself.”

She’s smiling now, a nasty cold little smile that makes me want to hit her again. “And Rosalind?”

“Of course I’ll tell her. And I’m sure you’ll tell your horrid version, too. She’ll believe me.” I try to regain steadiness in my voice, and fail miserably.

I turn to leave the room, before Diana can see that I’m starting to cry, too. After all, everything Diana has said is true enough, if I only looked at it straight.

As I reach the top of the stairs, Diana is on my heels. “No you don’t, Charley Forest. I’m speaking to her first. I’m not having you twist your way out of this.”

I’m too sick at heart for words.

Diana is the one to knock on the door, pushing past me to give a hard and triumphant rap. When Miss Carroll invites us into the room, she gives us a long, calm look, assessing our emotional states. I try to clamp down on my feelings, knowing it’s no good, that Miss Carroll can rake straight through my heart with that level gaze and her magical gift.

“Charlotte and Diana.” She lays down her pen. “What a pleasant surprise. Did you wish to speak to me together about something, girls?”

Diana steps forward. “No. I want to talk to you first.” She clasps her hands, eagerly. I wish I could tell if she is using her Charm. If she is, Miss Carroll gives no sign of it.

“Very possibly you do. Nonetheless, it is is Charlotte’s privilege, as Senior Prefect, to give her story first, Diana. I’m sure you understand that.”

Diana turns pink. “That’s not fair! You’ll let her get in first and twist everything!”

“I think, Diana, you can rely on me to be fair in deciding for myself how far each of you is speaking the truth,” Miss Carroll says, dryly. “I am not exactly unGifted in that direction. Please step outside, my dear, and I’ll call you in when I’m ready to talk to you.” She gives a motherly smile which I can’t help thinking Diana doesn’t deserve, vicious little beast that she is.

Diana hesitates, then flounces out. She’s just too much of a lady to let the door slam behind her.

I stand silently, all too aware that Miss Carroll can sense every turbulent emotion inside of me. When I don’t speak, she says, very gently indeed, “Did something so very dreadful happen that you can’t trust me to understand, my dear child? Can’t you talk to me at all?”

For a desperate moment I consider giving her a stream of excuses, telling her that it’s not my fault, that Diana is spiteful and cruel, that she provoked me. Instead, I unpin the badges on my collar, with trembling fingers, and put them on the desk, shutting my eyes to avoid seeing my head mistresses. I don’t want to see disappointment or shock on her face.

“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think, Charlotte?” A little of the dryness has returned to Miss Carroll’s voice, but the kindness is still there. “Why don’t you tell me about it, and leave it up to me to decide your fate. Come now, take a seat and take your time. It will do Diana no harm at all to drum her heels and calm down a little.”

I still avoid her gaze as I slip into a seat. I sit there for a moment, Miss Carroll waiting quietly, as I try to sort through my story, and eventually give up on finding a version that excuses me at all. “I slapped Diana. Very hard.” The tears are hot in my eyes.

“I don’t need to tell you that was a shameful thing for a Sixth former, let alone a Senior Prefect, to do. I admit I’m curious as to why would you do such a thing. You’ve never been known for your outbursts of temper before.”

“She—she said some things I didn’t like. About me.” I try not to think about what they were. “I just saw red, I suppose.”

“That was all?” She raises an eyebrow. That’s the trouble with Sensitives, they can always tell.

I reach down into myself. “And about a friend. Diana said I’m not as good a friend as she is, and I suppose—I suppose I’m jealous.” The truth is shameful, and I hang my head, trying to hide the tears that are blurring my vision again.

“I see.” Miss Carroll gets up and takes three cups from the sideboard. “Fortunately my tea is still hot enough to drink, and they always bring me far too much for one woman. I think you could do with some.” I detest sugar in my tea, but she puts in three heaping spoonfuls and I sip obediently when she puts it in front of me, managing not to make a face at the taste. “I will take a cup to the unfortunate Diana while you compose yourself.”

The over brewed, sugary tea is highly unpleasant. I mop my eyes and gulp it down anyway, not wanting to be ungrateful. Somehow, it does seem to make me feel a little better by the time Miss Carroll returns and takes her seat. She watches me drink, for a while, sipping her own tea slowly. She reminds me, oddly enough, of Rosalind. They are nothing alike in appearance or manner, just the same air of wordlessly taking everything in and assessing it. Combined with the knowledge of her magical Gift, it’s quite alarming.

“I don’t discourage close friendships in the school as a general rule,” Miss Carroll says eventually. My hand tightens on the handle of the cup and I bite my lip. “My position is that schoolgirl friendships can be a beautiful thing to give strength and inspiration throughout a lifetime, when girls encourage the best in each other. What is dangerous, however, is if a girl with a weak personality forms a dependent friendship with a girl with a much stronger and more forceful personality than her own. Her growth as a woman can be stunted, and both girls can suffer as outside influences are crushed out. Do you, Charlotte, know why Frances and Gladys White don’t share a study this term?”

I had been sitting waiting for a denouncement of my friendship with Rosalind. The sudden change in subject makes my hand jerk in surprise. It’s fortunate that my tea is nearly empty.

She’s patiently waiting for my answer. “I assumed that it was because you wanted Gladys to help Cecily as Head Girl.”

“Partly. Gladys has excellent managing capabilities, although she lacks the kindness that Cecily has in abundance.”

She replaces her own cup on the table and is silent for a moment, as if weighing her words. “I had another reason. Frances White has an unfortunate tendency toward hero worship. It’s harmless when directed at a mistress or a Guides leader who must know how to deal with this situation, and less fortunate when aimed at a girl with less experience of life. Gladys has an unfortunate tendency to take the upper hand and dominate others whenever she has the opportunity. It was, I considered, unwholesome for both of them. Cecily is more than capable of standing up to Gladys, and winning her respect, while I hoped that, away from Gladys, Frances would have a chance to develop into her own self.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, slowly. Gladys can be a bit of a bully sometimes, but I’ve grown fond of her over the last term. And Frances always seemed very happy playing nursemaid to her cousin. It seems a shame to have spoiled their friendship. I don’t dare so so.

Miss Carroll raises an eyebrow and seemingly changes the subject. “I’ve been pleased with the friendship between yourself, Cecily and Esther. You all have strong personalities, and yet you rarely clash. I also think your friendship has been especially beneficial to Esther. You and Cecily, my dear, are both thoroughly nice girls. Under your influence, certain worrying possibilities in Esther’s character have failed to take root, and the better potential in her has flowered instead of her pettier, more harmful instincts.”

“Esther’s not a bad sort,” I say, defensively.

“Thanks in part, I think, to you and Cecily. Brains and beauty, without sufficient inborn moral character to buttress them, can be a burden rather than an advantage. With the wrong friends, Esther might have turned out entirely different with different influences. Please understand, Charlotte, I am talking to you frankly and freely, as a woman and not as a child. It’s your privilege as a Senior Prefect and trusted member of the upper forms.”

“I—thank you.” I’m confused by the direction the conversation is taking, and not liking what she’s suggesting about Esther. I know in my heart that Esther is good all through, as much as she likes to pretend to be wicked. Surely a Sensitive could tell this. “You wanted us to be friends yet you didn’t let us share studies?”

“I was hoping that your influence would have a similarly wholesome effect on Diana. I know certain things about her that I cannot share, from her parents, and from her former headmistresses.” I catch the plural, startled. “I thought that if you could possibly make friends with her, I thought that you would encourage her away from certain… silliness. I realise now that I misjudged this, and that you would always be too much at odds. I confess myself disappointed,” she says, and my cheeks flush with shame. I haven’t tried with Diana, not even a little. I’ve been too caught up in my own affairs.

“As for Rosalind—” I stare at Miss Carroll, wondering if she had snatched the thought from my mind. “Well, I sincerely hoped that she and Frances would befriend each other. Both have rather weak, clinging characters,” she added with clinical detachment, “and I thought that pairing them together might force them to become more independent and help each other. It seems that, in Rosalind’s case at least, I was wrong. She turns naturally to stronger characters than her own to avoid standing on her own two feet. I should have foreseen it.”

I want to tell her that she’s wrong about Rosalind. That Rosalind is stronger than she thinks, despite Diana’s mischief, that she’s courageous and sure of herself when it matters. How, though, can I tell Miss Carroll anything without giving away about Sunflame?

“I’m not asking you to give up Rosalind’s friendship. I think you can be a good influence on anyone you choose. I just want you to think about what I’ve said and think your words and actions through, Charlotte. A girl like Rosalind is in great danger of subjecting herself all too willingly to any girl who tries to shape and influence her. She has an unfortunate history of that, you know. I promised her parents that if she was in my care, I would do my best to prevent that from happening here.”

“I do my best to protect her from Diana!” I want to protest that Miss Carroll has done nothing herself to shield Rosalind from Diana’s poisonous influence. The words dry on my lips. Talking to me as a fellow woman or not, there are limits to how far I can cheek her.

”Diana Struthers and her petty Glamours are not my concern. I merely ask you to tread lightly with Rosalind, my dear. And try to keep your hands and your temper to yourself, no matter how justly provoked you feel. You are in a position of seniority in this school, and it behooves you to remember it.”

I put down my empty cup. “I’m sorry, Miss Carroll.” I stand to leave, wanting to run from the room.

“One moment.” Miss Carroll stands, too. “I quite agree with you that a girl who strikes another in a violent temper is unfit to be Games Captain. However, I did not give you the position solely for your own advantage; you’re not as important as all that. You’ve done very well. I have been more than pleased with how hard you’ve worked, and your patience with the other girls. To put a less popular Captain in your place would, I think, be detrimental to discipline for the younger girls, who are likely to take sides and resent the new incumbent. I don’t accept your resignation. As for your position of Senior Prefect—well, you can hardly expect to escape your onerous duties so readily.” She passes the pins back to me.

“So I’m not to be punished?” I clasp my hands over the pin.

“On the contrary. You are gated for a fortnight. That includes, by the way, inter-school matches—and any visits to Briar Stables.”

Separating me from Ember is a terrible punishment, one I mind far more than even the disgrace of losing my pins, but I know better than to argue. I know I’ve got off far more easily than I deserve.

What preys on my mind, as I pass Diana entering the room with a flushed, spiteful face, already assembling her arguments against me, is Miss Carroll’s speech about strength and weakness. I am afraid, terribly afraid, that she has seen straight into my heart and what I want, secretly, of my friend. I know that, for all Miss Carroll’s kindness and understanding, that if I do anything thought to push Rosalind into something unwholesome or corrupting, there will be no mercy for me.