“Quite so.” Victoria looked thoughtfully at Emma. “How strange. Markus, you see, celebrates his birthday at midwinter. A curious antipode, do not you think?”
The Winter Solstice—the longest and darkest night of the year. Yes, that suited him quite well indeed.
“Ay, very curious.” Milli flashed a warning look at Emma. “I take it as a sign that we simply cannot refuse such a kind offer.”
“I thank you for the invitation, Victoria, but I cannot decline or accept until I have first spoken with my aunt and uncle.”
“Allow me.” Victoria winked conspiratorially at Milli. “I shall write such a charming letter that your uncle would not dare deny me anything.”
“No indeed,” said Milli, depositing another morsel into her waiting mouth. “I confess I should be glad to be gone from London till these infernal murders stop!”
Victoria’s lips curled into an impenetrable smile. “You shall be quite safe at Winterthurse.”
Later, when the sisters’ chariot was homeward bound, Milli turned on Emma. “What maggot has got into your head?”
“What do you mean?”
“It is one thing to dress like an old maid but quite another to act the part.”
“So I am old-maidish because I think and act with caution?”
“Decidedly!”
“You must allow that it does no harm to take a few days to consider the invitation, Milli. What of all your London suitors? Surely you cannot bear to be long away from them?”
Mill crossed her arms. “They are all of them unsuitable and uninteresting, and far too tame besides.”
“You mean none of them are rich enough to suit you.”
“In the main,” said Milli. “Mr. Valko must be very rich if his cousin is a viscount.”
“Our intimacy with the Winterlys is hardly longstanding, they are still little more than strangers to us.” If anything, after hearing that strange conversation in her head, Emma ought to be considering a stint in Bedlam, not skipping off to some country estate. “And don’t set your cap for Mr. Valko just yet, you’ve only met him once!”
“Dearest Emma! Why must you always think a thing to death?”
“And why will you never think at all!” It was a harsh thing to say and Emma instantly regretted it. She apologized immediately and Milli accepted, but the carriage ride thereafter was stilted. Emma took the opportunity to mull over the conversation she’d…what, overheard? “Vauxhall, tomorrow a week.” Had she really heard Mr. Valko’s voice or was she going mad?
“What did you say?” Milli glanced over.
Emma chewed her lip a moment. “Did you…overhear the conversation between Mr. Valko and Victoria?”
“Of course not, the door was shut.” Milli turned back to the window.
As soon as Emma alighted from the carriage she went in search of her uncle.
Robert Haywood looked up from an opened letter as Emma strode into his library. “Back so soon from calling on the nobility, eh?” This was followed by a sportive wink. “I say, it gives me pleasure to see you taking a bit more of an interest in society, it isn’t good for a young woman to keep herself cloistered away with no more company than her books.”
She kissed his cheek hello. “Uncle—”
“Although, Milli might benefit from a little less society and a little more reading.”
Emma cleared her throat. “Uncle, if you should get a letter from Miss Winterly inviting Milli and I to Yorkshire, I must insist that you decline it under some or other of your witty pretexts.”
“What the devil for?”
“We hardly know them.”
“I should think that is best remedied with a nice long visit.” He watched her face fall. “At all events, I’m afraid your request comes too late, my dear.”
Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“You see, I’ve already given the lady my consent.”
Emma sank into an armchair, further confused.
“Her letter arrived only moments before you returned from Mayfair”—he gestured down to the letter he had been reading when she’d walked in—“and the post has just left to deliver my reply.” He patted her head affectionately. “There, there, I’m certain you shall bear the vexation of a holiday tolerably well.”
“But—”
“And, while you’re at it, keep your sister out of mischief, there’s a good girl. That reckless chit wouldn’t know caution if it bit her.”
Emma gave a groan and left her uncle to his letters. Who better to guard an unruly peahen than her barking mad sister.
Chapter Nineteen
A Penny For A Curse
Milli sat staring out the window, her forehead slumped against the glass. “Lord, what a tedious day.” Behind her, her uncle grumbled something about idleness being a sign of silliness. She gritted her teeth and ignored the remark. “We haven’t done anything exciting since our visit with Victoria.” And that was over a week ago.
“Uncle,” said Emma, pulling her spectacles off to rub her eyes, “shall we perhaps go to Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow night?”
Milli whirled around, all astonishment.
Uncle Haywood looked up from his book. “Vauxhall? That doesn’t seem like the sort of place you’d care to go to, Emma.”
“Is it odd for a woman to be taking a bit more of an interest in society?” Emma lifted her shoulder dispassionately, the gesture appearing a little too contrived to Milli.
Their uncle’s chest rumbled with something akin to amusement. “No, indeed.”
“And that is the first sensible idea you’ve had all season, Emma.” Milli clapped her hands and danced around the room towards her uncle. “Oh, we must take a boat across the Thames and enter by the Water Gate. I read in La Belle Assemblée that Lord Lovegrove went by boat specifically to see Madame Saqui.” Lord, Milli could already see herself arriving by boat in her yellow crape, and Mr. Valko would be there, of course, and their gazes would lock beneath the fireworks…
“Who on earth is Madame Saqui?” asked her uncle, looking helplessly at his wife.
Milli rolled her eyes. “The tight-rope dancer, of course. What if we should see a tiger! Can you only imagine?”
“I’m sure I cannot,” Emma muttered.
“Oh, Uncle,” said Milli, “we simply must go by boat.”
“Must we?”
“Ay, we must.”
“I hear,” said Emma, “that there are dead bodies and all manner of ordure floating about in the Thames at any given moment.”
“Oh, Emma,” said their aunt with a nervous laugh, “do try not to be so morbid.”
Milli paused, mid-pirouette. “Dead bodies in the Thames?” Well, that was hardly romantic. “Well, then we had better go by carriage, and I think we ought to have supper there as well.”
Uncle Haywood shook his head. “You shall not see me paying a shilling for a slice of ham thin enough to see through. No, Milli, we had much better dine early and have a far more superior supper here at home before going out.”
“And,” said Emma, speaking low so that only Milli could hear her, “we should not like to have our appetites ruined by death and ordure.”
Milli snickered and then repaired to her bedroom to inspect her yellow crape.
At nine o’clock the following evening the Haywood carriage turned into Kennington Lane. Once the requisite three-and-sixpence per admission was defrayed, they entered through the turnstile and directly into the Grand Walk. Dusk had already settled in and the trees were festooned with variegated lamps and colored glass. The colonnaded supper-boxes were crowded with raucous diners, the tables adorned with white napery, and the liveried waiters were scurrying back and forth with laden meat platters, salads, and various potations.
There were no tigers to be seen, however. Only a few monkeys. But that was all right, for Milli had come here to be captivated by the splendor of promenading, handsome couples and to marvel at the gowns, the latest hairstyles, the vibrant headdresses, and t
he stunning jewelry. It was Milli’s opinion that no one could behold such resplendence and remain unaffected by it, so she glanced around, eager to see that her family was also suitably impressed; they were not.
Aunt and Uncle Haywood were talking to some acquaintances—a Mr. Cruikshank and his wife, if she was not mistaken—and Emma’s attention was drawn to a quieter part of the grove, at the other end of the Orchestra and dancers, where a gentlemen and four ladies were gathered beside a marble angel. Milli gasped, recognizing Valko and Victoria immediately. The other three were unknown to her. Victoria and Valko were really quite distinct, so tall and elegant, even at this distance.
Milli snatched Emma’s hand. Sparing a brief glance for her guardians, she begged to be excused a moment, promising her aunt that they would return in time to see the Cascade. “Hulloa!” Milli cried, waving her hand as she flew past the dancers with her sister in tow.
“Must you gallop and bray like a runaway donkey?” asked Emma, digging her heels in. “You’re drawing attention to yourself.”
“That is the point.”
The cousins appeared surprised to see them, but waved back nonetheless.
“There,” said Emma, “they’ve seen you, now rein yourself in, for heaven’s sake.”
Her sister was right, she wouldn’t want Mr. Valko thinking her too eager, and thus the brakes were instantly applied. It gave her time to consider what she would say to him, and it gave her a moment to contemplate his interest in the other three ladies. The blonde one did seem awfully familiar, and awfully ill-disposed to fashion. Although Milli’s own sister’s tastes, with her stern glasses and décolletage all draped in gauze up to the throat, were no less unfortunate, poor thing.
Suddenly, it occurred to Milli where she’d seen the blonde. “Emma, is that Madame Strange, the crystal gazer? You know, that woman you nearly plowed over last month.”
“I believe you’re right.” Emma then began squinting through her glasses in so unbecoming a manner that it pained Milli to watch her; she hoped Mr. Valko hadn’t noticed. “The two other ladies,” said Emma, “are the De Grigori sisters. I met them at the Littérature Étrange exhibition. I think they must all three be sisters, for they look so much alike despite their contrasting hair.”
“Fascinating.” Milli’s interest was for Valko alone. But he, regrettably, looked not the least bit interested in her yellow crape. She was further disappointed when he and the three Strange sisters disappeared towards Lover’s Walk.
A crippling dismay beset her at once, for he had barely offered a farewell nod. Her only consolation was that Victoria seemed pleased to see them, bestowing her usual affectionate welcome of kisses and smiles. Victoria conveyed her cousin’s regrets, but he was obliged to escort their friends (it was inconceivable that they should even claim such tragically-attired friends) to another engagement. One to which they were already late. All the while the excuse was made, Milli’s underlip trembled and would not cease doing so even as the conversation lapsed into pleasantries.
“Has Lord Winterly returned from Winterthurse?” Emma was asking. How obvious she was being. Victoria would likely not be fooled by such poorly feigned nonchalance.
Victoria chuckled. “He had planned to return on Tuesday, but his business keeps him in the country. Truly, I believe he will invent any excuse if it will keep him from London; although, he did promise he would escort me to the Full Moon Ball next Friday at the Argyll Rooms.”
“The Full Moon Ball?” Milli sagged in dejection. “I believe there are no more tickets to be had.” It was to be an exclusive affair and, as such, the vouchers had all been sold months ago, not that there had been the slightest hope for Milli. “Is Mr. Valko going too?” She was almost too dispirited to ask.
“He has been invited,” said Victoria, grinning. “And so have you, my dears. You shall find your tickets with your glass slippers when you get home.” She winked. “Or at least you shall when I post them off tomorrow.”
“Truly?” Milli’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, I could just die of happiness!” She hugged her fairy god-mother and then Emma and then her fairy god-mother again. “Thank you, Victoria!” If one could expire of euphoria then Milli was sure she’d be dead already.
“Now,” said Victoria, “I too must beg your leave, it is growing late and my supper, likewise, is growing old.”
Growing old? Surely she meant cold? These rich eccentrics did have some peculiar expressions. Well, that was of no moment because Millicent Rose was going to the Full Moon Ball and, soon after, would be sojourning in Winterthurse with aristocrats. So there was very little room in her bosom to care about anything growing old or cold, nor was she so very upset about Valko anymore.
As soon as Milli was home tonight, she would write to Sybil and Poppy in Little Snoring and tell them all about her upcoming adventures. How jealous her friends would be.
The sisters accompanied Victoria back to the Grand Walk and there saw her off before returning to their guardians.
“Now why would Mr. Valko,” said Emma, “be escorting the De Grigoris to another engagement via the Lover’s Walk. That’s entirely the wrong direction, and dark besides.”
Milli’s lips tightened. “I’m sure I don’t care to know.”
“Perhaps they took the long way to the proprietor’s house to avoid you.” Emma nudged her in the ribs playfully as they followed behind their guardians. “You did run at him like a charging bullock.”
“I much prefer the term runaway donkey, thank you, Emma. A donkey is far more dignified than a bullock.”
“Not when the donkey has caught sight of its darling; though, I admit, you did bray beautifully at him.”
They laughed, strolling along the graveled walkways and under the flowering arbors. Lively fiddlers serenaded the crowd and the sky erupted with color and light so impressive that Milli didn’t even care when she dropped half her sweets on the ground.
Thousands of lamps, strung like ribbons between the bowers, flickered amidst the stately trees and hedges. The orchestra itself, where a cotillion was underway, was illuminated with just as many tiny, twinkling lights. The cast iron pillars of the colonnades, under which they passed, too were bedecked with chatoyant lamps. Milli had never seen anything so whimsical, nor so spectacular as Vauxhall by night.
The sudden clanging of a bell seemed to rouse the crowd to further excitement. “It’s ten o’clock!” said Milli, herding her family down one of the walkways. “Make haste! I want to get a good spot in front of the Cascade!”
The black curtains were drawing back as they arrived to reveal a lighted mechanical waterfall, a bridge, and a mill. It frothed and bubbled and roared over the music. The whole extravaganza lasted only ten minutes before the curtain closed once more.
“What?” said their uncle playfully, “is that all?”
“It was wonderful!” Milli could not remember a better night than this one.
Her uncle pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and considered the time. “Ladies, now that we have reveled in all the pleasures of Vauxhall, perhaps you might permit this gentleman to return to his pipe and slippers?” It was his turn to herd his womenfolk, and they all gave in gladly, yawning and giggling.
Milli fell behind, momentarily distracted by an acrobat. A tug at her elbow instantly drew her attention to the crooked gypsy woman staring up at her. “Lady,” said she, “pretty lady, let me read your fortune.”
“I don’t have any money.” Milli glanced up the walkway to see that Emma had paused to wait for her.
Unconcerned, the old woman availed herself of Milli’s hand and pored over her palm, her grey hair falling forward as she ran a dirty finger over the delicate lines and folds. Almost instantly her ancient brow furrowed and the smile fell away from her face. She glanced up. “You are afraid of the dark, lady.”
Milli pursed her lips, unimpressed. “Nine in ten people are afraid of the dark, my good woman.”
“It is not the dark but that which lur
ks in it, lady. Beware.”
With an impatient sigh, Milli produced a penny and planted it in the woman’s hand. “There, I’ve paid you, now I demand you tell me something pertinent. And pleasant.”
“Monsters are most alive at night.” The gypsy placed her hand on Milli’s forearm as though she could see something there that Milli could not. “It is then you must fear their bite. Do not venture outside on a Black Moon, lady.”
“What the devil is the matter with you?” Milli wrested her hand away. “I shall report you to the Master of Ceremonies at once.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched away, but not far enough away before the woman whispered one last terrible caveat.
“What did she say?” asked Emma when Milli had joined her again. “Something about petals?”
“How could you have possibly heard that? Oh, never mind, it’s only gammon!” Milli shot one last withering glance over her shoulder as they hurried to catch up with their guardians. “She cursed me, the wretched, little hag.”
“Milli, what did she say?”
“She said, ‘the rose will not long bear such pretty petals.’” Milli’s hands tightened in her sister’s. “Emma, how did she know my name?”
“You’re wearing your rose pendant, it was only a lucky guess.”
“Of course.” Relieved by her sister’s logic, Milli sighed. “A lucky guess, that’s all.”
“Ay, don’t worry so, you shall give yourself unsightly wrinkles.”
Milli gasped and instantly becalmed her brow with fretful prodding, hoping to iron out the creases before they embedded themselves forever. “And to think I nearly let that silly crone spoil my night with her sinister thoughts.”
“Then let that serve to remind you in future not to pay pennies for thoughts.” Emma pushed her spectacles higher up her nose with an emphatic nod.
“Yes, yes,” Milli grumbled. With that hateful penny prediction far behind her, Milli promised herself that she would soon do away with those blasted bluestocking spectacles of Emma’s. Now that was a prognostication worth more than a penny!
Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1) Page 13
