Dark Mirror 2 - Dark Passage

by M. J. Putney

  She pried the tight tin open to reveal a box packed with dense shortbread bars dusted with nutmeg. On top of the bars were two shapes wrapped in paper stained by the butter used in the rich shortbread. Tory unwrapped one to reveal a shortbread cake cut in the shape of a star with bright sparkles of sugar on top. “She knew we wouldn’t want to wait, so these are for now.” She handed one star to Cynthia, then unwrapped the other.

  “She did this for me?” Cynthia’s voice sounded vulnerable instead of imperious. “That was very kind of her.”

  Tory knew her roommate’s mother had died, though not when or how. If she’d grown up without maternal warmth, it explained a great deal about her. “My mother is very kind,” she agreed. “Except about standing up to my father about my magic.”

  “Standing up to fathers is very difficult.” Cynthia bit into the rich, crumbly star cake and sighed with pleasure.

  Tory’s mother had some magic herself. Fear that she’d be discovered prevented her from supporting her daughter. Tory understood, but it was hard to forgive. She took a bite of her own star. “Lovely. My mother and sister and I would always spend a day doing Christmas baking down in the kitchen.”

  “You know how to cook?” Cynthia’s tone would have been the same if Tory had just confessed to murder.

  “My mother thought we should know cookery because someday we’d be running a great household.” Tory took a second small bite, wanting the shortbread to last as long as possible. It melted in her mouth with luxurious richness. “I rather like cooking, just like you enjoy embroidery.”

  “Needlework is ladylike.” Cynthia finished the star and took one of the shortbread bars from the tin box. “Cookery is for servants.”

  “One can’t eat a reticule, no matter how beautifully it’s embroidered.”

  “Food gets eaten. People will admire my stitchery long after I’m gone.”

  Since Cynthia was eyeing the tin box again, Tory took out a last bar for herself, then snapped the lid back on. She belatedly reached for the letter that had been delivered. “This is from my sister,” she said, recognizing the lovely penmanship. “She’s probably writing to express her regret that I’ll miss the wedding.” Tory broke the wax seal and began to read.

  Dearest Tory,

  When Papa announced that you will not be allowed to come home for Christmas and my wedding to Lord Roger, I was Outraged! How dare he forbid you to return to your own home! It would make more sense if he was forbidding you London, where reputation must be watched more closely. But the wilds of Somersetshire???

  By this time all the world knows that there is magic in the family. I’ve had people look at me oddly and perhaps move away. Since the damage has already been done, why not let you come home?

  Since our distinguished Papa is being so stubborn, I have devised A Plan: Roger and I will marry at Geoffrey’s estate in Shropshire.

  Geoffrey and Cecilia are delighted to host the wedding, particularly since it means you will be there. They haven’t forgotten that you saved Jamie’s life. I shall never forget the Terror I felt when he fell over the cliff.

  So I am sending this message in Lord Roger’s coach, along with a maid to accompany you to Shropshire, and a trunk of your best gowns. I’m so looking forward to seeing you, little sister! It seems like an age. I want you to be there when I’m married.

  Your favorite and only sister,

  Sarah

  Tory gasped with delight. “Cynthia, wonderful news!”

  Her roommate had drifted back to her embroidery, but glanced up quizzically. “Your father is embracing magery and says you can come home.”

  “That isn’t going to happen,” Tory said wryly. “But my sister is so exasperated with him that she’s moving her wedding to my brother’s estate so I can come. I’ll be able to spend Christmas with my family! Part of my family, anyhow. My sister sent a carriage with the message. Heavens, it must be waiting! I can leave right away.”

  Swift shock and pain flashed through Cynthia’s eyes, gone almost before Tory saw it. She realized that her roommate had been looking forward to the two of them spending the holidays together. And from the way Cynthia crushed the purse in her hand, Tory realized it had been meant as a gift for her.

  Dropping her gaze, Cynthia said nastily, “Good! I can have my room to myself again. It’s such a nuisance to have you here all the time chattering nonsense.”

  Tory felt as if she’d been slapped. She had thought they were friends now.

  She was about to snap back that it would be a relief to get away from Cynthia, but she reminded herself that her roommate was feeling hurt and betrayed. With Tory leaving, Cynthia would be left alone and unwanted. “I wish you could come with me,” she said in a soft voice. “It would be more enjoyable that way.”

  Cynthia raised her head and glared. “Why would I want to go to a stupid wedding with people I don’t know?”

  “I would enjoy your company,” Tory said mildly. Her remark was even mostly true. Should she invite Cynthia to go with her?

  No, Tory wanted to be able to concentrate on her family and Sarah’s wedding, not spend her time dealing with Cynthia’s prickly moods. “But it would be wearying to bounce across England in a carriage just to be with strangers. You’ll find it more amusing to celebrate with the others who will stay through the holidays.”

  “Most people staying are stupid magic lovers,” Cynthia said sourly. “My particular friends are all leaving.”

  Cynthia would not appreciate having it pointed out that she was an Irregular and a “magic lover” herself. Nor would she welcome hearing that the snobby girls could not be very good friends if Cynthia couldn’t be honest with them. Only with the Irregulars could Cynthia reveal her mageling talents. A pity that she was torn between what she was—a powerful mage—and what she wanted to be.

  Tory was in the same position. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the shock and pain of seeing her friends and neighbors turning away when her magic was revealed. They treated her like a plague carrier. She would have given anything to make her magic disappear.

  Yet now, she wanted to use her magic and keep her mage friends. Every student at Lackland had to face this dilemma. Telling herself to be patient with Cynthia, Tory said, “I’d better pack. The carriage will be waiting.”

  She flung open the doors of her clothespress. Her school wardrobe was serviceable, but not suitable for a wedding. Since clever Sarah was sending her best clothes, there was no need for her heavy trunk. Her rugged canvas carrier bag would do.

  After packing a few necessities, she jotted a quick note to Elspeth, who was still at the school but would be leaving the next day to spend Christmas with her former governess. “Elspeth, I’m going to my sister’s wedding! I shall explain after the holidays. Have a safe journey with much roast goose and gingerbread. Tory.”

  She folded the note and crossed the room to give it to her roommate. “Tell everyone where I’ve gone and wish them happy Christmas for me.”

  Cynthia shrugged, not looking at her. “If you’re going to go, go!”

  Her rudeness would make it easy to be cross, if there hadn’t been a glint of tears visible in Cynthia’s eyes. Feeling uncomfortable, Tory said, “I’ll leave you the Christmas pudding and brandy butter. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. The Fairmount cook is wonderful.”

  Her roommate gave her a seething glare. “Why would I want a stupid great cannonball pudding like that?”

  Patience finally exhausted, Tory snapped, “You could try sharing it with other students, if you’re capable of thinking about anyone but yourself!” She slung the long strap of the carrier bag over her shoulder, swept up her cloak, and stalked out.

  When she returned, she should talk to the headmistress about moving to another room the next time there was a vacancy. When Tory first arrived at Lackland, the only bed available had been in the room Cynthia had to herself. Cynthia had not been pleased to be landed with a roommate.

  Tory had admir
ed the work Cynthia had done in 1940. There were times when Tory genuinely liked her roommate. But most of the time, Cynthia was just too much work. It was time for a change.

  * * *

  Cynthia managed to control herself until Tory left. Then she broke down into tears of rage. How dare Tory just run off like that? They had made plans for the holidays! Christmas would have been rather enjoyable if she and Tory had been able to gather greens and eat pudding and talk about their adventures.

  Furiously she knocked the box of holiday treats from Tory’s desk. The box crashed to the floor and the great ball of Christmas pudding bounced across the floor, protected by the layers of cheesecloth it had been steamed in.

  Cynthia kicked the pudding with all her might, then gasped with pain when she bruised her unshod toes. The pudding rolled smoothly across the room and came to rest against the wall with a dull thud. The stupid thing wasn’t even dented.

  Her anger collapsed and she folded into the center of her bed, her arms wrapped around her as she sobbed uncontrollably. It wasn’t fair! Tory had everything. She wasn’t beautiful like Cynthia, but she had a sparkling charm that made everyone like her.

  Allarde, who by rights should want Cynthia, couldn’t take his eyes off Tory. And not only did Tory have lots of friends at Lackland and the handsomest beau in the school, she even had some family members who loved her despite her magic. It wasn’t fair!

  But maybe it was fair. Tory was much nicer than Cynthia. Even though she knew that her sharp tongue drove people away, Cynthia couldn’t seem to stop.

  Since she hated herself, it was only right that other people hated her, too.

  CHAPTER 5

  Tory scampered down the steps and outside the student quarters, moving as fast as she could without being a complete tomboy. She didn’t slow her pace until she’d crossed the cloister garden and entered the main building.

  Mrs. Grice, the headmistress, was waiting in the front hall, her lips pursed disapprovingly. “You certainly took your time,” she snapped.

  Tory cast her eyes down and assumed her most humble expression. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Grice. It took time to prepare for the journey since I didn’t expect to leave today.”

  “This is irregular,” the headmistress grumbled. “Most irregular. Lord Fairmount should have given me proper notification.”

  Tory concealed her surprise that Mrs. Grice thought Tory’s father had summoned her. Sarah must have forged a note claiming to be from the earl. Clever sister. “I was taken by surprise also.”

  “Try not to disgrace the school while you’re away,” the headmistress said sourly.

  Doing her best to look angelic, Tory bobbed a meek curtsy, then scooted out the door before anything could stop her.

  The carriage that waited carried the family crest of Sarah’s fiancé, Lord Roger Hawthorne, and the footman by the door was a stranger. But Tory’s eyes widened at the sight of the girl waiting with downcast eyes and a smile she couldn’t suppress. Molly Fulton had been Tory’s maid when she lived at Fairmount Hall, and she’d offered warm comfort when Tory was disgraced and exiled to Lackland Abbey.

  “Allow me to take your bag, Lady Victoria,” the footman said, looking surprised at how little Tory was carrying.

  She found it odd to be addressed by her title after months of being called Miss Mansfield. She climbed into the carriage, and Molly followed. The footman closed the door and climbed up onto the box with the driver, and the carriage set off.

  As soon as they were private, Tory clasped the maid’s hand with an enthusiasm that young ladies were not supposed to show to servants. “Molly, I’m so glad to see you! How did you get assigned to accompany me on this trip?”

  Molly, a cheerful girl with sandy hair and freckles, replied, “I volunteered. The other maids didn’t want to spend Christmas away from their families, but I wanted to see how you were doing, my lady.”

  Touched, Tory said, “How kind of you. It was difficult at first, but I’ve made friends. I enjoy most of the classes, and we’re treated fairly well.” She thought of Miss Macklin. “Most of the time. How have things been at Fairmount Hall?”

  “’Twas very quiet after you left, miss.” Molly shook her head. “The house just isn’t the same. Your father never speaks of you, your mother looks ready to cry, and Lady Sarah has already gone to your brother’s house to prepare for the wedding.”

  Perhaps Tory should feel gratified that everyone else was unhappy, but mostly she was just sad. The happy home she’d grown up in was gone forever, shattered by the revelation of Tory’s magical ability.

  Ironically, her mother had power and Sarah had more or less admitted that she did, too. Only Tory was unlucky enough to be caught.

  With a sigh, she settled into the cushioned seat. “I’m glad Sarah made it possible for me to come to her wedding.”

  “I can see why, miss!” Molly stared out the window at the gray stone buildings receding behind them as the carriage rattled down the long, curving entrance road. “As soon as the carriage came through the gate, I felt that I was being smothered.” She shivered. “I’ll be that glad to be away from here, miss. I don’t know how you stand it.”

  Tory came alert. She’d felt the magical suppression spell the instant her father’s carriage brought her inside Lackland’s tall, forbidding walls. In fact, she’d felt—smothered. “Molly, that last night before I left Fairmount, you told me you had a touch of the sight. Have you ever felt other signs of magical power?”

  Molly bit her lip. “I … I’m not sure, miss. Sometimes it feels like I might know something more than I should, but it’s hard to be sure. Sometimes I have dreams that seem to be true, but they’re not clear.” She glanced out the carriage again. They were approaching the outer wall of the abbey. “Maybe I just imagine things.”

  Tory studied the other girl thoughtfully. “Did you volunteer for this journey because I might help you understand if you have magic?”

  “That was part of the reason,” Molly admitted, her cheeks pinking. “But I did want to see how you were faring, and it’s also a chance to travel a bit. I’ve never been out of Somersetshire before, and now I’ve seen half of England.”

  Though the maid was striving to sound lighthearted, her uncomfortable glances out the window at the receding abbey suggested that she was very aware of the magical suppression. The real test would be when the carriage left the abbey grounds.

  “How long will it take us to get to my brother’s home?”

  “This morning the driver said it would be two or three days if the weather holds.”

  Tory wondered if she’d learned enough weather magic to ensure that the weather stayed fair. She didn’t want anything to delay her journey.

  The carriage paused while the gatekeeper swung the great iron gates open, then the vehicle rumbled through. As they turned onto the road, Molly sighed with relaxation and leaned back in her facing seat. “I feel ever so much better now that we’ve left. I don’t know how you bear that place, my lady.”

  “Molly, the fact that you reacted so strongly when entering and leaving the abbey suggests that you have magical ability,” Tory said seriously. “A fair amount, judging by how much the suppression spell bothered you.”

  Molly’s face lit up. “You really think so, miss?” When Tory nodded, Molly continued, “You’ve learned about magic even though Lackland exists to cure it?”

  Tory didn’t blame the other girl for being skeptical. Since she couldn’t discuss the Irregulars, she said only, “Learning to control magic so it can be eliminated means teaching us a great deal about magic. I’ve done reading on the subject as well.”

  “Can you help me understand what power I might have?” Molly’s hands twisted nervously together.

  “Of course. We have a long ride ahead of us, and that’s perfect for studying.” Tory settled in her seat, amused that she would be able to act as a teacher on their journey. “Tell me about those dreams you have.”

  * * *

&nb
sp; After two and a half days of swift, smooth travel, they were almost at Layton Place. Tory had abandoned her tutoring to stare out the window and watch for landmarks to appear. Soon, soon … “There!” she said excitedly. “See the ruined castle on top of that hill? We’ll turn into the drive of Layton Place in just a few minutes.”

  “Have you been here often, miss?” Molly was bright-eyed with interest. She maintained the politeness required of her position, but with the intensive teaching and practice they’d done during the trip, the relationship had changed. They were no longer mistress and maid, but mageling and eager student.

  “Only once, after Jamie was born. My parents were very excited and wanted to see the next generation of the Earls of Fairmount.” Tory swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She’d been fourteen then and never dreamed how her family would be shattered. “It’s a new house, only about forty years old. Very comfortable.”

  “Will there be many guests?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably just the families, and perhaps a few very close friends.” Tory knew her father wouldn’t come, but she couldn’t imagine that her mother would miss Sarah’s wedding.

  “This will give me a chance to practice reading other people’s possessions,” Molly said, eyes gleaming.

  “Just remember what I said about respecting people’s privacy, and not gossiping about what you learn, or think you’ve learned,” Tory cautioned.

  “Yes, my lady.” Molly’s words were proper, but she was still fizzing with anticipation. “I’ve learned as a maid to be discreet. But this is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me!”

  “And you get to enjoy discovering your power without being sent into exile,” Tory said wryly.

  Molly’s expression sobered. “It was cruel how you were sent away for doing what was right. But you’re better and stronger for it.”

  Her comment wasn’t a guess. During their hours in the coach, Tory had determined that Molly’s ability was not foretelling, but a talent for reading personalities and events from objects that a person had handled extensively. The night before Tory had been sent to Lackland, Molly had helped her pack. While handling Tory’s clothing and other possessions, she’d made the prediction that Tory would do well, despite the shock and pain of being exiled from everyone and everything she knew. She’d been right, too.