“Yes, ma’am,” he said, “but it didn’t belong to me after all.”
The Queen stared at him confusedly. “But then—surely you simply demand it?”
“I do not have your kind of authority, ma’am.”
“Then you steal it,” Miss Darlington said.
“You told me not to burgle you, ma’am.”
Miss Darlington huffed. Queen Victoria shook her head.
“Dear Miss Darlington, bring your niece to my Jubilee Banquet,” the Queen said.
“Dear Queen Victoria, will it be well guarded?” Miss Darlington asked. “Cecilia has a poor constitution and I worry about her heart.”
“I understand. My baby, Beatrice, also had fragile health. I protected her as long as I could, until that rogue Liko snatched her out from under me. Now I see her only three-quarters of the day, Miss Darlington. Three-quarters!”
“Tragic,” Miss Darlington agreed.
“Nevertheless, we senior ladies cannot prevent young ones having their enjoyment. At least not forever apparently, despite all our resources and determination. Therefore you may have no fears for Cecilia’s heart. Major Candent shall direct security at the banquet.”
“Ah. Excellent. I can see you are a woman after my own mind.”
“No, you are a woman aftermyown mind.”
Cecilia watched her aunt’s eyes narrow and she stepped forward promptly before an argument could explode. “Won’t you sit again,dear Aunty?” she said, taking the sword and carefully lowering Miss Darlington into her chair.
Ned had also entered the fray. “I suggest we leave now, Your Majesty,” he said, taking her sword and setting it aside. “The area is unsecured and I would like to see you safe again in Windsor.”
The Queen scowled. “I suppose this means I shall have that curtsying girl at me again. She may be able to fly a building, but if she Your-Majestys me one more time I will be tempted to throw her in a dungeon.”
“Don’t worry,” Ned said as he steered the Queen gently from the room. “I’ll fly the castle back for you.”
“You can fly a whole castle on your own?”
“Sure.”
The Queen glanced over her shoulder at Miss Darlington. A conversation of eyebrows ensued. Cecilia liked it even less than the sword fighting and stepped between them on the excuse of pouring her aunt another cup of tea. When she looked up again from the teapot, the Queen, her staff, and Ned Lightbourne were gone.
Just like that.
And her heart, it seemed, had wandered off with them. Dullness lay heavy, clammy, in its place—but she had felt this kind of loss before, and she knew it would soon become tranquility. An endless winter-colored pool of tranquility. So she set a smile to her still-tingling lips and handed the tea to Miss Darlington.
“You look forlorn,” her aunt said.
“I fear I may be sickening,” she replied.
“Nonsense.”
Cecilia blinked. “I—I—beg your pardon?”
“You are fit as a fiddle, my girl. We will have no malingering here! Now, take Pleasance and hie upstairs, if you please. I want us to be in the air before that castle. A Darlington follows behind no one.”
Early afternoon sunlight emblazoned the world. The sky was all possibility—or all emptiness, depending on your perspective. As Pleasance murmured the incantation, Cecilia navigated Darlington House up into its serenity. Her eyes were watering from the light—“Or possibly allergies,” she said when Pleasance looked at her dubiously. “The countryside is full of pollen, after all.”
Golden pollen over laughing blue eyes—er, skies.
Once airborne, the two young women stood at the cockpit window, looking down on the Devonshire field wherein Northangerland Abbey had met its doom. A pirate flag fluttered smugly from the abbey ruins. Her Majesty’s soldiers were being rounded up with military precision, although they tipped their hats and bowed at pirate ladies as they trudged back to the castle. Several houses continued to kick around a football, while children danced beneath with practice swords and toy wheels. Constantinopla Brown could be seen chasing them merrily, skirts hoisted to her knees, and Tom Eames chased her in turn.
