“This crowns all our efforts,” cried another thaumaturge. “It is such a triumph for English magic as we have not seen in decades. Will you tell us more of your familiar?”
“I will do better than that,” said Midsomer, smiling. “I will show her to you.”
Turning away from his astonished audience, he said to his wife, standing demurely behind him:
“Laura, my dear, will you come forward, and be introduced?”
“Why, Prunella, your hand is like a vise!” whispered Sophia. “What is he saying?”
Prunella loosened her grasp. She said, striving for calm:
“He is saying that Mrs. Midsomer is a fairy, though I ought to have known it without his telling us. Those eyes alone proved it! And her shocking manners, and knowing how to call forth the sibyl!”
But the excitement vibrating in her voice was owed in largest part not to the revelation of Mrs. Midsomer’s nature, but to what it meant regarding Mr. Midsomer. For if he intended to become Sorcerer Royal, and sought to enact this mysterious procedure upon Zacharias—if he had even gone so far as to get himself a familiar, and demand the allegiance of his colleagues—then there could be no question about it. Mr. Midsomer must be the assassin.
•••
SOPHIAfound Prunella rather a distracted companion for the remainder of the evening: her conversation was not so sparkling, and her laughter not nearly so ready as usual, and both ladies were united in desiring an early retreat.
Mr. Kendle would have liked to stay and concoct plans with his colleagues, now that their triumph seemed so near at hand. But his discontent was moderated by the thought that it might be no bad notion to remove Miss Gentleman from the scene. It was unlikely she had understood enough of what had passed that evening to carry tales—though Mr. Kendle indulged his pretty young wife, he had little opinion of her intelligence, and Miss Gentleman seemed no different from any of the other flighty young creatures Sophia called her friends. Even so, he made sure to slip a charm for forgetfulness into her mind when he handed her down from the carriage.
Prunella disposed of the charm by feeding it to Youko, as Nidget and Tjandra objected to the taste. She was in a considerable tumult of spirits, and it seemed intolerable that she would have to wait an entire night before warning Zacharias.
She wished she knew what the Hallett was. Despite attentive eavesdropping at the party, she had not been able to obtain any clarity on the point, for everyone seemed to assume that everyone else knew what it signified. The name Hallett was a familiar one, but where had she heard it before?
Though she racked her mind, pacing her bedchamber, no answer presented itself. But that the Hallett represented another of Mr. Midsomer’s attempts to remove his rival, Prunella did not doubt.
How could anyone think he might make a better Sorcerer Royal than Zacharias!she thought.When Zacharias is so good and clever, and would not hurt a fly! Whereas Mr. Midsomer is little better than a murderer. Indeed, he is only prevented from being a murderer by his incompetence. The horrid little ginger-haired man—“Oh!”
She had exclaimed aloud, and Tjandra fell off the bed in startlement. He righted himself at once, and flew to the mantelpiece, but it was necessary for Prunella to spend some time petting him before he would condescend to be friends again.
“It was only because I was surprised,” she explained. “Mr. Midsomer is related to Clarissa, of course—you did not know her, Tjandra, but she was at the school. I remember she had a brother, and it must be he. It accounts for all. I could believe anything of a relation of Clarissa Midsomer’s! She pinched the littler girls when she was cross. I thought it an unchivalrous habit.”
Since she could neither wake the household with her news, nor, in her agitated state, go to sleep, Prunella resolved that she would review all the spells she knew for warmaking.If Mr. Midsomer means to attack Zacharias, he need not think Zacharias’s friends will sit quietly by and let him!
Though few of the schoolgirls had been as vicious-tempered as Clarissa Midsomer, a life passed amid the feuds and rivalries of a girls’ school had left Prunella not wholly unprepared for battle. She found she knew six hexes, some of them quite highly finished pieces of devilry, and Nidget said that it was sure it could invent others:
“We were always quarrelling in Fairyland! I am sure I killed dozens of my kinsmen, and other enemies besides.”
“I declare, Nidget, sometimes you frighten me,” said Prunella, gazing at the elvet in dismay. “I beg you will not say such bloodthirstythings in Zacharias’s hearing. I am sure he would not like it. But if your experience helps us defend him, that is all to the good.”
Nidget was not overly fond of Zacharias, for it suspected Prunella of allocating too large a share of her affections to the tall reserved mortal who made her such regular visits. It said crabbily:
“And what has he done for us that we should defend him?”
“Why, what would become of me if his enemies should succeed?” said Prunella. “I have not received a single offer of marriage yet, and if Zacharias loses his staff, or worse, before I am able to establish myself, we may find ourselves on the streets! We are only here at his sufferance, Nidget, and it would behoove you to remember that.”
Both she and Nidget knew self-interest was not her chief motive for desiring Zacharias’s safety, but Prunella could comfort herself that at least none other than her familiars had reason to suspect she felt anything for him but a perfectly decorous gratitude. To be in love was so inconvenient, so—missish! Particularly when Zacharias, she was certain, would never see her in that light. It was nothing more than a passing fancy, she told herself, and fortunately there was such a lot to think of that she scarcely had time to dwell on her feelings.
“You ought not to risk yourself for that milksop,” said Nidget jealously, but Prunella snapped:
“You are a fool if you think Zacharias is a milksop! But I know you are not really so foolish. The longer we stay up, the more we shall quarrel, so we had better go to bed, and we will all be better-tempered tomorrow.”
With that Nidget had to be content, for she climbed into bed and put her head under her pillow, by way of signifying the conversation was at an end.
20
SCARROW,” SAIDDAMERELL.
