“You didn’t want to treat me to a ride in your carriage,” Alexi accused. “You wished to torture me.” Percy giggled.
“The sweet lady has to know what she’s getting into. You must have worked mighty magic indeed to have her so moony-eyed.”
“You mustn’t tease Alexi so about his manner, Lord Withersby,” Percy said. “I’m far more the misfit. As for moony-eyed—well, I am…naturally.” She blinked her opalescent eyes.
“I suppose you have a point,” Elijah allowed. “Goodness. Your union—simply terrifying. Children living near your estate will tell such tales.”
Alexi chuckled, pleased by the concept, but Percy let loose an audible gasp. “But I know nothing of estates! I’ve no dowry, nothing to bring to this marriage. I haven’t the faintest idea how to run a household. No one at the convent ever thought—”
“Darling,” Alexi said. “We shan’t be a couple who entertains or makes a show of things like many of our station. Our destiny isn’t for such luxuries. I believe your peculiar talents far outstrip domestic economy.”
“Oh. All right then.” But Percy was not convinced. The thought of making a home was as overwhelming as any supernatural task that lay ahead.
Josephine beamed. “Don’t worry, Percy, The Guard will come calling. Besides, the Wentworths have been silently running the place for years. They’ll run it just as smoothly with you as an addition.”
“And more happily.” Elijah snorted. “To have something sweet and dainty to look after, rather than His Royal Eeriness, Minister of the Constant Sneer…”
Percy glanced at her betrothed. “You don’t sneer. Do you?”
“See?” Alexi offered blandly to Elijah.
“Perhaps you’ve been spared, Miss Parker. So far. But, beware. Who knows what may happen now? My God. The bravery, my dear Miss Parker, the bravery of your young heart! Oh! Take note, Miss Parker—you see?” Elijah cried.
Percy turned. Alexi was indeed sneering. She laughed. “Why, I’ve never seen that look before, Lord Withersby. You must be its sole inspiration.”
As Elijah folded his arms, Alexi changed topics. “Percy, we must discuss what’s to become of you, as you cannot in good faith continue as a student. Athens is central to our work, and I want you near. We’ll find a place.”
“Thank you!” Percy exclaimed. Having only spent a quarter at Athens, she was quite fond of its stately Romanesque halls. It was the first public place imparting any measure of comfort, offered primarily by her friend Marianna and then Alexi.
“So much change,” Josephine breathed. “We’ve been waiting for our seventh for so long, and now that you’re here, Percy, everything can change.” She glanced hopefully at Elijah, who shifted a bit and turned to stare out the window. Though she tried to mask her disappointment, her expressive face hid nothing from Percy. Alexi seemed oblivious, lost in thought.
The carriage stopped, and Alexi helped Percy from it. Tucked quietly into the middle of London, the surrounding buildings seeming to have turned their backs, a veritable castle of red sandstone rose before them. Percy shielded her eyes, gazing alternately at the familiar rough-hewn bricks, at her new friends and her new fiancé. Students milling about on the stairs stopped to stare. Percy, as Alexi ordered, hadn’t draped a scarf around her head. Her tinted glasses remained somewhere in her room, and her white-blue eyes strained against the light. Alexi waved all the youngsters away, gliding smoothly into his role as professor even if his battered attire did not match.
The second carriage pulled up. As the others disembarked Alexi said, “Thank you for escorting us hence, we ask you to keep time until tomorrow morning’s ceremony.” Reaching out a hand for Percy, he led her up the stairs. Turning, he interrupted a burgeoning conversation between Michael and Elijah, discussing which club had the best cigars. “Mr. Carroll, my good vicar, may I beg a favor?”
“Anything at all,” Michael replied, striding up to meet him.
“Would you be so kind as to fetch my sister? She would be furious with me if she missed tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes, Alexi. Alexandra must be present!” Percy exclaimed. It was not long since a harried evening spent at Miss Rychman’s quaint cottage, the home a welcome respite from the spectral hound whose jaws seemed bent on searching out Percy. She prayed it had indeed been put to rest.
Alexi fished in a coat pocket. “These notes ought to suffice for the distance. Tell the driver Nine Hampstead.” Percy, glancing at the assembled Guard, noticed Jane was absent, but she was distracted when Josephine took her other hand and whispered conspiratorially, “Percy, you must meet your friend and tell her your news. Now, I’m off! You won’t be disappointed.” She strolled toward the theatre district, casting one final glance at Elijah.
“Rebecca, your office, in a moment,” Alexi directed. The headmistress nodded and disappeared through the main doors. “Percy, my dear”—Alexi steered her, opening the door and gesturing her inside—“I’ll escort you to your hall, but then I must discuss how we inform the faculty of our new…status. I’ll leave you to your friend and come to call on you this evening to bid you good night. You’d best not take my arm until we’ve properly informed the faculty.”
“Of course.”
Alexi leaned in as they traversed the entryway. “Although, I wouldn’t mind giving that dreary Mrs. Rathbine palpitations by seizing you in a kiss right here in the middle of the school.”
Percy blushed and giggled, and nearby students stopped to stare. “You can’t, Professor,” she murmured. “All think you inhumanly cold and without humour. A glimpse of affection would destroy your fearsome reputation.”
“Right you are, Miss Parker,” he replied. “Right you are. Now, Percy, speak nothing of The Guard or recent phenomena—not even to your dear friend.”
“Alexi, if I told anyone of last night’s particulars, I’d be deemed mad. However, Marianna will insist—”
“Say that your fever worsened and I took your care upon myself. As for our marriage, it needs no explanation other than that you’re madly in love with me. Wedlock was the only way to keep you from making a fool of yourself,” he declared, a sporting light in his eye.
Percy stifled another giggle, and side by side they opened the glass-paneled doors to the small cobblestone courtyard between the Athens clerestories. Blinking from the light, she lost her smile to a sudden thought. “But, what of the institution at large? Privately the thought of scandal thrills me, but everyone will question a sudden marriage between professor and pup—”
Percy heard the squeal before she saw a figure fly at her. “Mein Gott!” cried a young German voice. Percy choked as arms flew around her neck. “Where in the whole”—she fumbled for a choice English declamation—“bloody whole world have you been? I thought you were dead!” Marianna, her fair cheeks blazing and her wide green eyes filled with tears, noticed Alexi. She whirled, breaking from Percy. “And you! You! What on earth did you do?” she cried, closing the distance to stare up at him, brandishing her fists and offering a few German curses for emphasis.
“Marianna, please.” Percy blushed and tried to grab the petite blonde by the arm, but her friend stood her ground. Two female students sitting on the angel fountain fell into immediate gossip, and a few male students, eyebrows raised, thought it best to disappear into their dormitory hall.
Alexi, a full two heads taller, eyed this furious German who had taken to Percy on her first day, and whom his betrothed simply adored. He offered her a gracious expression, which only seemed to infuriate her further.
Percy finally pulled Marianna back and attempted to smooth her friend’s disheveled scarf and russet vest. “Marianna, my sweet, hush! Professor Rychman has meant me no harm, I am well again and everything is wond—”
“No! When I last saw you, you were nearly dead. What on earth happened between yesterday and this morning…?” She turned again upon Alexi. “What spell have you cast over her? She was heartbroken just the day before, and you—why you look lik
e you were in a brawl!”
“Marianna, there was no magic!” Percy insisted. “There was a great misunderstanding. Calm yourself. I have news, happy news.”
Alexi spoke gently. “Miss Farelei, I understand your confusion. Please accept my apologies for any wrongs you feel I have done Miss Parker. I do not presume to know the confidences you may have shared, but rest assured I have only Percy’s interests in mind, and would stake my life on her welfare.”
Marianna blinked at him, scowling.
“Marianna.” Percy took hold of her friend’s hands. “We are to be married. Tomorrow morning. Here at the chapel. Alexi Rychman is to be my husband!”
The blonde girl’s jaw dropped, and it was a long moment before she could speak. “No. You jest.”
Percy held up her ringed finger. Marianna turned to Alexi, gaping.
“It’s true, Miss Farelei,” he answered. “Please do us the honour of attending.”
Marianna turned back to Percy, whose cheeks were scarlet, and screamed. She threw her arms around Percy and then, in turn, moved to throw her arms around the professor.
“There’s no need to make a scene. Good God!” Alexi grimaced, awkwardly patting the girl’s shoulder in an effort to extricate himself. Percy hid her face. Even she knew better than to embrace the stern Professor Rychman in the middle of the academy courtyard.
“I would have never dreamed it!” Marianna cried, and Percy hushed her into a whisper. “I never thought I’d hear the end of her incessant pining over you.”
“Marianna, honestly,” Percy scolded. She noticed Alexi’s mouth curve.
Her friend wore a wide grin. “How can you hush me? You cannot expect such exciting news to escape bold outbursts.”
“Ladies, if you will excuse me, I will leave you to your blushes, giggles and other absurdities. I’ve much to attend. But, please, as we’ve yet to inform the rest of the institution, try not to get everyone in an uproar.” The twitch of a smile remained on his lips, and Percy’s blush persisted. Marianna giggled as he bowed slightly to Percy. “My dear, I shall come for you later this evening.”
Marianna turned to Percy, who was drinking in the sight of her betrothed disappearing into Promethe Hall. Immediately they both screamed and embraced, creating a bit of a scene. “Come, come.” Percy dragged Marianna into the next hall. “We must tell Mina, the Apollo librarian. She’ll be so shocked! But she’s fond of me and the professor, and I’d hate for her not to be included.”
Marianna couldn’t stop giggling. “I daresay shocked faces will abound when you waltz through Athens in a wedding dress.”
The Whisper-world remained messy. Some of the spirits had torn themselves limb from limb; countless others had hurled themselves against Darkness. He’d grown weary of swatting them into pieces. Once he locked away his opposition once more, satisfied that they were appropriately wasting away, he glided in the form of shadows to the Groundskeeper’s side. “Progress?”
“Slow,” the Groundskeeper replied. He fussed with bottles and brooms along the corridor strewn with ash.
“Steady,” Darkness said. “And keep undoing the seals. Be. Quick.”
The Groundskeeper nodded, groveled and waited for the telling shadows to disappear. Then his singsong voice, a mixture of every lower-class accent throughout the farflung reaches of all empires, echoed out: “Lucy-Ducy wore a nice dress. Lucy-Ducy made a great mess.” He carefully swept up the ashes, pausing at points to fill a number of open glass jars using a garden trowel. He chanted at the piles of dust, “All the king’s sweepers and all Ducy’s ash, still will put Ducy together at last—”
A breeze swirled by, followed by a pack of wild spirits, and ashes tumbled off for what could be miles. The hollow-faced gentleman gave a pitiful howl and scrambled to catch the fleeing specks. The same spirits tore screaming down another corridor, inciting all those around them to lift up in banshee wails, and the Groundskeeper clapped his hands over his head in frustration, wiping his brow with his coat sleeve. “Why did this have to happen, my sweet Dussa-Do? Oh, look at you, you’re all around me.” He sighed and let loose a strange yearning sound. “Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”
He fell to his knees, scattering the remains of his charge about him, picking up fistfuls of dust and massaging them with greedy hands. It was everything he could do to not roll about in the pieces. His breathing grew laboured before his mottled eyes closed with shame and he released his hold. He hung his head and began to weep. Locks of black and gold hair spilled from his tattered seaman’s cap over drawn features almost too dirty to be seen. “If I can put you together again, you’ll tell me who did this to you. And you’ll turn such eyes to them! But for now, I’ll touch every piece of you. I’ll track down every last speck. And when we put you together again, you’ll turn such eyes, you will!”
He jumped up and tore off down a diagonal corridor. “West, east, north, south, another seal, another seal!” He sighed, putting his hand to his throat where the attack of his master still smarted. “So much work before war!”
Her office door flew open, scattering papers everywhere. “Alexi,” Rebecca groused, “will you ever—?”
“Knock? You may yet teach me one day.”
“A man about to be married ought to have better manners.”
“Ah, but isn’t there something devilishly charming about one who commands a room as he pleases? I do believe my betrothed is quite taken with the quality.” Alexi smiled haughtily.
“Ask her once you’ve startled her in her boudoir. Once too often, it may grow tedious.”
“Until then—”
“You shall remain a brute; yes, indeed. Now. What is to be done with your…fiancée?”
Alexi took the seat opposite. “We ought to have a linguistic department, considering Percy’s uncanny ability with language. Athens could draw additional income from literary translation, fund a scholarship for women. She’d like that. She’ll need an office. Perhaps eighty, Apollo Hall.”
“Alexi, language is a humanity. Her place would be in this hall, not yours. You mustn’t make it entirely obvious how close at hand you’d like your young wife.”
Alexi raised an eyebrow. “Right, then. Well, the Bay Room…”
Rebecca raised a hand. “It’s haunted.”
Alexi blinked. “And that should bother her?”
Pursing her lips, Rebecca moved to a cabinet of files. She withdrew a small folder and sat at her desk. “Some record should exist about shifting Miss Parker from student to faculty.” Her brow furrowed as she opened Percy’s file. “Oh. I forgot about this.” She removed an envelope, the script upon which read: Please open upon Miss P. Parker’s graduation or when she has been provided for. It had been sent with the reverend mother’s request for Percy’s enrollment. Rebecca opened the letter and read aloud:
Dear Miss Thompson,
I trust you will understand the delicate nature of this missive and will share it with Miss Parker only when you deem it appropriate. Her mother died just after birth. I never mentioned a grave, but one does exist—in York. Miss Parker knows nothing of it, for it remains an unsettling sight.
I tremble as even I write this, but if there is any man who takes pity upon the poor girl, may he escort her hence to retrieve what was left at the site. This must sound nothing short of unholy, but I have prayed upon this matter so long I think it best to share it with you and have you appoint someone of upstanding mettle for the task.
I kept silent for fear of casting further pall over Miss Parker’s already trying existence. She wants desperately to attend school; I couldn’t shadow her adventure thus. I hope you kept her at Athens as long as you were able. Convent walls were not meant for her spirit, one meant never to be contained, not even in praise of our Lord.
If you have concerns, please contact me. The location of the grave is known here at the convent, should you never speak with me directly. I apologize for the mysterious circumstances surrounding our dear girl, but they have always bee
n the cloak about her white shoulders. It is not her fault she was born odd. I would it were otherwise.
Sincerely,
Reverend Mother Madeliena Theresa
Alexi set his jaw and examined the paper. “That answers the question of where to reserve a honeymoon cottage: York.” He rose. “May I leave the arrangements of the Bay Room to you, as I have countless other preparations to make? May I borrow Frederic to send missives?”
Rebecca nodded. After he gave thanks, the door closed behind him. She lifted hands to her forehead, wishing everything were otherwise.
Isabel came bustling into the sitting room, a silver tray in hand, and Alexandra Rychman looked up from her sewing to evaluate its contents: a small white card with rolling script. “Michael Carroll, ma’am. He apologizes for any inconvenience, but extends an invitation. He says it has to do with your brother.”
“Show him in.”
Alexandra, with just as striking features as Alexi but elder, wheelchair-bound, retreated from her sewing table and rolled toward the threshold, smoothing the folds of her black taffeta dress. She loved visitors—few though she saw—and more so, any news of her brother.
Isabel, once she had removed his hat and cloak, led a broad-shouldered man with unruly pepper grey hair into the sitting room. He heralded sunshine, as if his very presence could cause a shift in seasons. No one could linger in winter near his cozy hearth.
“Miss Rychman!” He bounded toward her, taking her outstretched hand and kissing it. “Do you remember me? It’s been years since.”
“You’re part of Alexi’s little…clique.”
“A founding member, yes, indeed,” Michael chortled. “You’re looking well, Miss Rychman, if I may say. And I hope you’re feeling up for a bit of an adventure?”
Alexandra smiled. “Who wouldn’t?”
Michael grinned and patted the nearby sofa in a gesture of triumph. “I ask myself that question daily!”
“Well, then?”
“Your brother has instructed me to bring you to London.”
The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker Page 7
