The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker (14 page)

A shimmering grey form burst through the wall as Percy made her way toward the professor’s office. “Oh, Percy, the gala!”

“Goodness, Constance, don’t startle me so!” Percy laughed softly, careful to make sure they were alone.

“Do forgive me, but each year I forget how delightful it is.”

“I’m sure the gala is lovely,” Percy muttered. “If I could float invisibly, as you do, I would gladly attend.”

“But, Miss Percy, the dancing—”

“I never learned. Now, please, Constance, I mustn’t be late.”

“You ought to have the professor teach you. A cultured, learned man such as he? I wouldn’t doubt a waltz—”

Percy’s hands flew to her face. “Constance, I beg you!”

“There’s nothing scandalous about a dance lesson. He’s a teacher. He’d be teaching you.”

“I…wouldn’t dare hope,” Percy replied.

A strange look came over the ghost’s face. “Hope? Just remember. Alive or dead, we are all looking for something.”

A flurry of students appeared, and Percy was unable to reply. Constance pinned her with a stare before vanishing into the paneling.

Percy knocked upon the professor’s door. Above the din, she barely heard his reply. She scurried into the office and closed the door on the cacophony of excited students outside. The professor was pacing behind his desk, powerful as ever but seemingly angry and tired. Percy wondered at his mood; surely he couldn’t be anxious about mathematics alone.

“Damnable gala,” he muttered, making a face. “Sends the entire school into a juvenile tizzy.”

“Yes, it’s all the girls can speak of,” Percy admitted. She took her seat, watching him. “Do faculty attend?” Constance’s suggestion nagged at her thoughts.

“Many serve as chaperones. We take turns year to year. I suppose you’re looking forward to it, Miss Parker?”

“No,” Percy replied, removing her accoutrements in the ritual pattern. “I shan’t attend.”

The professor raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Look at me,” she stated, glaring. When he stared back, undaunted, she explained, “I’m abnormal, and I don’t know how to dance. I’d look a disastrous fool. The sight of a ball
gown with one of my scarves draped about it…They’d wonder what nervous phantasm plagued their fete.”

“Nonsense. You’re no ghost, Miss Parker.”

“Thank you, Professor. And while you’re someone who would know, I wish I could share your optimism.”

“I’m sure it’s not been easy for you, Miss Parker, but not everyone thinks you frightening.”

She allowed herself to smile. His unfaltering acceptance was the dearest thing she could imagine. She nonetheless looked down and bit her lip. “I suppose I should try to not be so timid.”

“Is it the world that frightens you, Miss Parker? Or the strange things that you see? What exactly is it that you see?” the professor asked. He’d clearly been wondering. Percy was lost for a moment, intoxicated by his concern, enjoying how every rich syllable he spoke lingered in her ears.

“Many things,” she finally breathed. “Many…nightmarish visions.”

“You admit to visions at last, Miss Parker?” the professor asked. When she glanced up in panic, he held out a hand. “Miss Parker. Did I call you mad when you transported yourself to Greece? When you spoke to spirits? You ought to think better of me. And you might be surprised what people other than yourself see…” There was a strange light in his eyes.

Percy’s melancholy vanished. She gasped, “You have visions, too, Professor?” Turning, she leaned forward and reached out across the desk.

His demeanour shifted abruptly, and the professor pulled back. Still, there was a thoughtful look on his face as he added, “No, Miss Parker, I do not. And we have strayed long enough from our lesson.”

Excitement and disappointment churned through Percy as she handed over her assignment. The professor scrawled notes upon the page and slid it back. “The left column is correct; the right, incorrect. You have an amazing capacity to
learn what I teach—in halves.” As he began to elaborate upon where she’d gone wrong, Percy sighed. Her heart raced and she prayed he could not hear it pound. She was enraptured by his explanation, when suddenly her eyes blurred and she was watching a whole new scene. Another vision. People, fire, colour…

And then it was gone. Percy jumped as her eyes focused again on the professor, who was waiting for her to reinhabit herself. “If you’re going to leave your corporeal form when I am midsentence, Miss Parker, at least have the courtesy to tell me where you travel,” he declared.

Furrowing her brow, she took a hesitant breath. “There was music”—she bit her lip—“and people in a ring, and there seemed to be some sort of blue fire…”

Oddly, the professor’s jaw clenched. “How familiar.”

Percy fought back shock. “You know more than you’ve shared, Professor!”

He gave a curt nod. “I know far more than I’ve shared—and that I’m willing to share.”

Percy could not help herself. “Why do I have these visions, Professor?” she asked.
And why are they even more frequent around you?

The professor shook his head. “I assure you, I do not know. Now, review these conversions from class. And take this to the library.” He handed her a note with a filing number. “Perhaps you’ll understand general theorems better in Italian.”

Percy took the paper and grimaced. She was being dismissed.

As she shrouded herself in her scarf, a knock sounded at the door. “Come,” was Rychman’s response. Headmistress Thompson entered, her presence in the office nearly as commanding as the professor’s. She evaluated Percy, eyes narrowed, and Percy held her breath. Finally the woman nodded and turned to address the professor.

There was a terrible awkwardness that Percy could not help but notice, and it made her uncomfortable. There was surely something between these two, no matter what the professor said. Percy chided herself for jealousy, but it would not be quieted. Miss Thompson’s voice was amused, her face twisted in an uncharacteristic smile. “We are rotating the gala’s chaperone list this year, Professor. You have been voted in. I told the committee I would relay the information to you in person.”

“Thank you for the message, Miss Thompson,” he replied. “You’re a dear.” Percy giggled in spite of herself, and the professor turned a stony glare in her direction. With one finger he pointed, saying, “Silence. You are dismissed, Miss Parker. May your next vision include some correct answers for tomorrow’s lesson.”

Percy bit her lip, bowed to both the professor and the headmistress and fled.

“Good evening, Miss Parker,” Rebecca called out as the student left. When the door slid shut, she stared a moment and murmured, “What a strange child.”

Alexi nodded. “An interesting young woman, indeed—and clever in every subject but mine. Now and then she overcomes her skittish nature, but…I do believe I intimidate her.”

Rebecca laughed. “You don’t say.”

He ignored her tone. “New elements have come to light regarding her.”

“Really? What?” Rebecca sat straighter in her chair.

Alexi chewed on his lip, thoughtful. “I already told you of the ghosts. Miss Parker has visions, too. Visions I believe relate to our work. I think she might even have seen our chapel. But…I still have a hard time believing we would be sent a student when we were told our seventh would be a peer. And to pursue it further, to involve her in—”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” his friend interrupted. “Be
careful what you ask her to do. I shouldn’t want to be forced to expel the girl.”

Alexi made a face. “Rebecca! I’ll hear no insinuation from you! And you needn’t worry; I’m through searching. This nonsense is driving me mad. Let Prophecy come and hit me over the head if she’s going to come at all. I’m sick of the whole preposterous game. As I said last time we spoke—”

“Ah, yes. You’re giving up after all these years. How noble,” Rebecca scoffed. “Remember ten years ago, when Elijah decided he’d had enough? How he stopped coming to meetings? Do you remember how the papers rang out with ghost stories, how we had to run around in cloaks so as not to show our faces since he wasn’t there to wipe scenes clean, how the spiritualists had a ball, how a child actually died because—”

“I remember it well,” Alexi growled. He’d been the one to fetch Elijah and give him a ferocious set-down.

“Then stop posturing. You’re no more done with Prophecy than it’s done with us. Alexi, you
must
come to La Belle. It’s absurd, you avoiding us. You must talk with Miss Linden. You must determine her importance to us, if she has one. As I said before, she asks after you all the time. And Alexi, I—”

Alexi gritted his teeth. “As I said before, if I have been avoiding our haunt it was not a conscious choice. My life need not revolve solely around this institution and that pub, Rebecca. How tedious has been our routine.”

His friend shook her head. “Goodness, listen to you complain! You should know more of Miss Linden, that’s all. She spoke last night as if everything happening in London was meant to bring us together,” Rebecca explained. “If she’s our seventh…Well, to be perfectly honest, I thought that seemed possible.”

Alexi’s expression clouded. “Indeed.” There was an un
comfortable pause as Rebecca waited for him to elaborate and was disappointed when he did not.

“Indeed,”
she snapped, bristling as she rose and walked to the door. “Do recall the task we’ve all been set. You cannot discard your mantle of responsibility, no matter your frustration or…interest in a student. If anyone should be interesting, it should be Miss Linden! It’s not like she’s hard on the eyes. Now, good evening. As for the ball, are you so melancholy that your duties take—?”

“I’ll attend the blasted ball! And for you to implicate me in scandal, then push me toward Miss Linden makes me wonder what’s possessed you.”

Rebecca slowed, suddenly contrite. Turning, she said, “Forgive me, Alexi. I’ve been inappropriate. You would not dare impropriety. If I’ve spoken in error—”

He shook his head. “Rebecca, please. No apologies. I value your opinion, as always.” But while his words were forgiving, his tone was cold. “Do tell Lord Withersby he owes me the research assigned him—he causes trouble if he’s not busy.”

Alexi returned to his work, then, and Rebecca nodded and silently took her leave.

Marianna chased her friend into her bedroom in Athene Hall. “You must attend, Percy.”

“I told you, I cannot.”

“But our dear little Edward will so be unhappy if you are not there. If you fear he will fill my dance card and not yours, I am certain—”

“Marianna.” Percy placed a pale hand on her friend’s anxious face. “You dear, dear girl. I know that you fancy him, and that he fancies you. Please, do not trouble yourself over me. I’m very happy for you both, and all I want is—”

“I want you to have someone, too.”

Percy smiled sadly, patting Marianna’s hand and staring out her window.

For the second time that day, Constance startled her by bursting through the wall. “Forgive my intrusion, Miss Percy, but you simply must come to the Apollo lot!” The ghost’s transparent eyes were sparkling. “If you don’t, you surely will regret—”

Percy motioned the spectre to silence. She wasn’t sure how Marianna would feel about Constance and had not yet brought up any of her abilities regarding the dead. She had no idea how to begin.

“Percy?” the German girl said, seeing her friend’s shifted focus.

“Marianna, my dear,” Percy replied, deciding to take a chance. “Would you like a little adventure?”

“Always.”

“Come on then.” Gesturing for the ghost to lead the way, Percy dragged Marianna to her feet and out the door.

“What are we—?”

“The night is beautiful,” Percy explained. Then, “Out for a bit of fresh air, Miss Jennings!” she called as they rushed past the front desk.

“You won’t get beyond the courtyard!” the woman shrieked.

“Don’t worry, we’re not trying!”

“Where
are
we going?” Marianna breathed.

“There.” Percy pointed.

“The little graveyard behind Apollo Hall? Why? Are we allowed? Is there a guard?”

“Don’t worry,” Percy promised. “We’re still within school grounds.”

“Who lies buried there?” Marianna asked.

“I was told it’s for students and professors who have no other family. Oh! I suppose
I
might be buried here someday…”

Constance hovered nearby. “Once a year, Miss Percy, near my headstone, the ghosts of two professors celebrate their wedding anniversary. I thought you might appreciate it.”

Through an open arch in the courtyard, behind Apollo Hall, the two living girls and one spectre approached a heavy, spiked gate bordered by a rough stone wall. Marianna remained at the entrance, shaking her head.

Respecting the limits of her friend’s comfort but unwilling to turn back, Percy opened the hefty gate enough to wedge herself through. Gliding up a stone path that led to an inlaid circle, she took in the sight before her: two transparent figures in midcentury clothes, a man and a woman, waltzing. Their weightless feet spun gracefully above the ground, and their featherlight forms held each other with confidence and care.

“Oh, to dance…To merely be
touched,
” Percy whispered, dropping to her knees. Constance hovered silently nearby.

“What is it you see?” Marianna called.

Percy gave an aching sigh, which was caught by the breeze. “A waltz.”

The sound of voices in the courtyard below drew Alexi away from the book he read by candlelight. He drifted absently to the rear window of his office, and suddenly the ghost Miss Percy Parker called Constance appeared, pointing emphatically below.

“What do you want?” he asked, irritated.

The ghost pointed again.

Gazing down from his window, he saw an incredible sight: two glowing, floating figures twirling above the tiny collection of graves. A third figure knelt nearby, long white hair billowing in the breeze, and Alexi recognized Percy, arms outstretched as if to embrace the dancers. He sighed, feeling a strange and tearing discomfort. Constance gestured with great detail, emphatic.