“Supply and demand, Nan,” said Isabella, opening a door on her side of the hallway and gazing into it without either embarrassment or reserve. “Supply and demand. And be that as it may, we should try to find ourselves a nice little place to sit out of sight for a little while. Especially if we’re going to talk.”
“Somewhere like this?” suggested Annabel. The door she had opened was a small, unassuming one in peeling yellow paint. A door, in fact, that looked as though it might open to a painting supply cupboard or a forgotten storage area. It opened to neither of those things; instead, it opened into a small library that was panelled half way to the ceiling in light wood with the occasional dark grain to it. The bookcases were made of the same wood, and here and there around the room were plump red chairs that had enough dust on them to make Annabel think that this library hadn’t been much used lately.
She wandered into the room, looking around in interest. It wasn’t large, but it had a lot of books—and some of them, she noticed, with kindling interest, were novels. She hadn’t had the chance to read many novels over the last three years. There were too many fat, awful, mind-numbing books on statecraft, politics, and economics to read instead, and Annabel had felt her misfortune.
A few dust motes floated in the air on a beam of sunshine that came through the high window. That window looked out on the grounds outside, and it wasn’t until Annabel saw a skirt rustle past, blocking the sunshine for a brief moment, that she realised they had gone lower in the school than she realised.
“Goodness!” said Isabella, following her in. “Fancy this being here! Evidently I’ve been away for far too long. Well, well, well! This will be quite useful, I think.”
“And comfortable,” Annabel said, plopping herself down on a sofa. “Oh, lovely!”
“Quite central, too,” agreed Isabella. “We can make a quick dash to the classrooms if needed, we can stay quietly indoors in inclement weather, and if we really must, I daresay we could just get to the ground level from here.”
“Not in a bustle, we couldn’t,” Annabel said frankly. “And I’d be lucky to squeeze out of that window even without one!”
“Nonsense!” said Isabella, and briskly began to strip off her overskirt.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you suppose? I’m going to see if I can get through comfortably. The room is only half as useful to us if we can’t climb out the window. Look after my bustle, won’t you?”
“I’m not trying that,” Annabel warned her, but she got up from the sofa in spite of that, measuring the width and height of the window with a closer eye. It was possible—though not probable—that Annabel could get through there too, but she would very much prefer not to have to do so. The thought of getting stuck and having a grinning Melchior come to help her out wasn’t one she could entertain without shuddering.
Isabella, a thin, wriggling length of white muslin, had already jumped herself up to the window by way of a sofa arm and was now halfway through, her palms resting against the grass outside and her legs kicking enthusiastically.
“I’m definitely not doing that,” said Annabel as Isabella’s red-stockinged legs gave one last kick and folded through the window.
There was a final flash of red and white before Isabella’s bright face appeared at the window. “Easily done, Nan!” she said. “Oh, isn’t this lucky! This little library is beautifully located—better than our suite, if it comes to that. My only astonishment is that no one else has claimed it. Shall we make it our headquarters?”
“Do we need a headquarters?” Annabel asked doubtfully.
“Certainly! Especially now that all the girls feel themselves free to call.”
“I thought we had to see them!” protested Annabel. “Shouldn’t we have refused to see them if the idea was to stop them coming to see us?”
“Certainly not,” said Isabella decisively, and began to wriggle back through the window. “That leads to speculation and an air of injury. It’s important to give the impression that you’re available to see without wearing you out by actually seeing people all the time. How clever of you to find this place!”
“Is it all right for us to just take it over?”
Isabella dropped down onto the sofa and shut the window again securely. “Of course! We were here first, after all! We will need to make sure this room is safe to speak in before we become too dreadfully comfortable, however. Do you think Melchior would make us a security spell or two if you asked him?”
“Probably,” said Annabel. It wasn’t a thing he would ask too many questions about, either, since it would fit his ideas of safety and security very well. “I just won’t mention what we’re trying to secure. Oh! What about asking Raoul for another one?”
Isabella looked at her admiringly. “Goodness! I didn’t think of that! Naturally, Melchior will exclude himself from any security spell he gives us, and we can plug that particular hole with a security spell from Raoul. There’s no need to let Melchior get more comfortable than he has to be, after all. I applaud your reserve, Nan.”
“You don’t suppose someone—” Annabel stopped, frowning, and asked, “You don’t suppose there’s already something in our room? I was looking to see what might have been taken or disturbed, but I didn’t think to check if anything else had been put in.”
Isabella made a small sound of irritation. “How clumsy of me! I didn’t think of that! Perhaps Melchior will check the suite for us. He was winking at you before—he probably wants you to meet him.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Annabel said. “It would serve him right if I didn’t go, but if we need him, I suppose I might as well. Is he allowed in our suite?”
“Absolutely not,” Isabella said promptly. “If we’re caught, Melchior will be let go and we’ll be severely punished. If it comes to that, a male in the suite would probably be enough for them to send me home. Do you know, Nan, I’m surprised someone hasn’t tried to have me sent home that way already. I’m inclined to think the girls of Trenthams lack imagination.”
Annabel grinned. “What, because they haven’t put a man in your suite? Maybe they’re too big to smuggle in as well.”
“And that reminds me,” Isabella said, her eyes widening. “There’s a competition every year about who can smuggle in the largest thing to the school. It has to be smuggled right into the halls, not just the grounds, and there’s no magic allowed. We’ll have to think about that later, after we’ve nosed out what Melchior is up to.”
“Nothing less than an elephant,” Annabel said, with her best expressionless face. “Otherwise it’s not worth the bother.”
“Naturally,” Isabella said. “Although, I suppose we could argue that we smuggled a teacher in, at a pinch. Melchior certainly came here because of you, so it’s technically true.”
“I wonder if Melchior can change into an elephant?” wondered Annabel, becoming side-tracked. “I’ll have to ask him when I see him after class. Will you come?”
Isabella’s grey eyes widened a little in surprise. “You want me to come along as well? I think it likely that Melchior would prefer to see you alone, Nan.”
“Melchior won’t mind if you’re there, too,” Annabel said in surprise. “We’re room mates after all, and he was the one who arranged for us to go together.”
“Ye-es,” said Isabella slowly. “Be that as it may, Nan, I believe I’ll stay in our suite tonight. I’d like to make absolutely sure nothing was taken the other night. Do bring Melchior back with you if you can manage not to get caught, however. I do think it would be just as well to check our suite as soon as possible.”
“All right,” agreed Annabel. “How long do we have before we have to go to Statecraft?”
“A good hour yet,” Isabella said. “That’s another reason why Carriage on Horseback is a good class to skip; it’s far too long. Honestly, I don’t know why they’ve put you in Statecraft, either; you’re bound to have covered all that with Melchior anyway. I can’t see th
ere being any new information there for you.”
“Are you in Statecraft too?”
“Naturally,” said Isabella. “It wouldn’t do for the teachers to think they have nothing to teach me. They get discouraged, poor things. Besides, it’s a good place to make connections; all the girls from important families are there. Some of them are even pleasant girls.”
“How many of them did I meet on the first day?” Annabel asked gloomily, remembering the constant stream of visitors.
“All of them, of course,” Isabella said. “They study Statecraft, Nan. One of the first lessons is the importance of making good connections. I suppose it’s a mercy they put us in the advanced class, at least. A sop to both of us, I should think.”
“Oh,” said Annabel. “Now I’m hungry. Why did you have to mention sops?”
“That’s another thing,” said Isabella, with great seriousness. “We’ll have to establish a Stash somewhere. Perhaps we can make a hollow behind some of the books.”
“A stash?”
“Of food, naturally! It’s no use smuggling in all the best chocolates and other goodies if the maids find them in our room and report us. Not to mention the distinct possibility that an intruder might decide to munch on them. I may not be able to prevent ruffians from breaking into our suite, Nan, but I absolutely refuse to feed them my favourite things as well.”
“What if other girls find them in here? Won’t they eat them?”
“Certainly not! A food stash is a clear indicator that the room is spoken for. They will politely leave.”
Annabel, who had seen some of the younger girls freely pilfering what they liked best from the plates of their fellows, said doubtfully, “I suppose you know what you’re talking about.”
“Very rarely,” Isabella assured her. “But at least I sound sure of myself, Nan! Never mind, if we’re very clear on the fact that this room is taken, none of the girls should go so far as to wander in without permission—especially if they know it’s been taken by seniors.”
“How do we make that clear?”
“Ah,” said Isabella, tying her bustle and then rotating it into its rightful position. “Well, if you’ll be so kind as to help me back into my skirt, Nan, I’ll initiate you in the art of bagsing a room!”
7
Annabel had not been to school for several years. When she had gone, that school was a small building with a single room where all the children were taught by one teacher. The sheer bustle and busyness of Trenthams, therefore, with its changing classes and seemingly random free periods, was an entirely new kind of experience. She sat quietly through a Statecraft class, where the teacher seemed afraid to call on her to answer questions and the other students looked covertly at her from behind books, and walked stiffly through the Deportment class, where the teacher pursed his lips and the other students became subtly relieved. Oh well, thought Annabel, watching Isabella float through the same figure eight she had just forced herself through; at least they knew they didn’t have to worry about being bested by her in Deportment—not if she had to wear three books on her head, anyway.
Elementaries of Elegant Ensorcellment was even less palatable. The girls in this class paid far less attention to Annabel than those in her other classes, but since this was because they were all gazing wide-eyed at Melchior, Annabel didn’t find it preferable. In fact, it left her feeling distinctly grumpy. It was some balm to her soul to see Isabella, after a brief, incredulous look around the room, sit forward with her chin propped on her palms and a gaze of almost disturbing soulfulness on her face. It must have made Melchior uneasy, because he flicked a look across the room at them more often as the lesson went on, and he seemed disinclined to turn his back on the class. That almost made Annabel grin. Instead, she sat forward like Isabella and added her soulful gaze to the other girl’s. With any luck, it would make Melchior uncomfortable enough to pay back all the winking this morning.
Annabel was still grinning about that when she went to meet Melchior. Twilight was stealing over the halls and mingling with the soft hallway lighting by the time she got there, but she didn’t mind Melchior having to wait a bit. Serve him right for winking at her so often. She would have knocked when she got to his door, but there were voices from the other end of the hallway, and she preferred not to be seen sneaking into a master’s suite. She ducked hastily through the door with a small blue flip of skirts, and shut it behind her just as hastily. There were no startled exclamations or accusatory tones from behind the wood, and Annabel turned around in some relief to find that Melchior was watching her in amusement, one eyebrow up.
“What a pleasant surprise, Nan!” he said. “If you didn’t want to be seen, perhaps a darker colour would be a better choice of gown.”
“It’s not a surprise at all,” Annabel said. “You were winking at me so much that some of the girls thought there was something in your eye. Does Mr. Pennicott know how bad you are at intrigue?”
For the first time in several weeks, she heard Melchior’s real laugh, sudden and wholly amused.
“Mr. Pennicott has never had any reason to be disappointed in my skills, thank you, Nan! If you had given any sign of acknowledgement, I might have winked a little less.”
“You mean you kept going because I didn’t react,” Annabel said accusingly. “And to think that you told Peter he was infantile!”
“Must we talk about Peter?” asked Melchior. “It’s such a nice night!”
Annabel made a face. “I suppose that means you aren’t going to tell me if you found out anything at the stops we made along the way here.”
“There’s no need for me to tell you anything,” Melchior said. “For the very simple reason that there’s nothing much to tell that would interest you. It’s much more useful to know what’s going on in the school.”
“Oh, is it.”
Melchior, without acknowledging the potent sarcasm, asked, “Have any of the girls specifically approached you?”
“They’ve all approached me,” Annabel said. She’d found it wearying at the time, and just as wearying to recount it. “I thought Mr. Pennicott was trying to be very careful about how much information got out.”
“He was,” Melchior said, a little grimly. “Things have changed slightly, however.”
Annabel blinked. She had been sure that something had changed in the last few months, but Melchior had never said as much before. “What things?”
“Small things,” said Melchior. “Nothing we can pin down; just rumours and phantoms and ideas.”
“Yes, but what ideas and rumours?”
“Have any of the girls who approached you tried to offer you anything in return for certain favours?”
“Yes; Isabella,” Annabel said bluntly. “But since you’re the one who sent her, I really think you ought to have known that already.”
Melchior grinned. “Oh yes, the Firebrand! She’s one of a kind. Did you accept her offer?”
Annabel, resentfully, asked, “Did you only want to see me to get information from me?” She had been hoping, at the very least, for a sharing of information. Melchior had always been disinclined to share information with her, but although she had been prepared to put up with that when she was younger, so long as he didn’t lie to her, Annabel was now not so willing.
Melchior’s hazel eyes rested on her thoughtfully. “What else were you expecting?”
“You should at least share information if you want me to tell you anything!” Annabel protested. “There’s no need to be keeping secrets from me; I’m not a child now, Melchior!”
“I see,” said Melchior. He was smiling, but his eyes weren’t amused. “That’s what you meant. I’m very well aware that you are no longer a child, Nan. I believe I’ve mentioned it several times over the last few months.”
“When?” demanded Annabel. “All I remember is you telling me over and over again that you’re not a cat any more.”
“Exactly,” said Melchior. “I really couldn’t have made
myself much clearer, in fact.”
Annabel gazed at him in despair. If there was one thing Peter and Melchior had in common, it was the way they had of dancing circles around her when it came to conversation and cleverness. She was quite well aware that she wasn’t clever; that she had to sit, and think, and reason before she came to any sort of conclusion that Melchior or Peter would arrive at in seconds. If only they would say what they meant, instead of hinting and suggesting until it drove her mad!
“Do you know what I like so much about Isabella?” she asked. It had only just occurred to her; it should have occurred much sooner, but until a day or two ago, she hadn’t been exactly sure that she did like Isabella. Even now she wasn’t entirely sure.
Melchior, looking rather startled, said, “No, what?”
“She says exactly what she means,” Annabel said crossly. “And she doesn’t dance around things and then hint at clever meanings. If she’s hiding something from you, she doesn’t dangle it in your face.”
“I resent the implication that I’m less trustworthy than the Firebrand,” Melchior protested. He was still looking more than slightly startled. “She regularly flummoxes people by telling them the exact truth.”
“Yes, but that only works with untrustworthy people,” said Annabel. “People like you, actually. Melchior, they’ll crown me in less than a year—that is if someone doesn’t get to me first. If you can’t trust me with information concerning my own safety, I don’t know what you’re expecting of me as queen!”
Exasperated, Melchior began, “As a queen—! When did I say I was expecting anything of you as a queen, Nan?”
“Yes, but I’m going to be the queen! So—”
“Then let us say I’m speaking to Nan. Just Nan, not Queen Annabel.”
“Yes, but what’s the use of speaking to just Nan? It’s not just Nan that the Old Parrasians are making a fuss about! And it’s not just Nan—Well, actually, yes, it is—it is just me that wants to know what you found out about who attacked us. Queen me wants to know as well, but just me wants to—” Annabel stopped, then complained, “I’m getting a headache. Why can’t we talk like normal people?”
Staff & Crown Page 11
