by M. J. Putney
Tory smiled. “Why is it that the events that improve our characters are so often unpleasant?”
“Because if we’re happy, there’s no reason to grow and change.”
Tory blinked, startled by the clarity and truth of Molly’s comment. “Have you thought about becoming a village counselor?”
Molly’s eyes rounded. “Do you think I could? That is the most wonderful thing I can imagine for myself!”
Counselors offered guidance and comfort, particularly in matters of the heart. Young lovers would bring in something handled by their objects of affection. A good counselor could determine if the potential mate was healthy, honest, loyal—or not.
Counselors were also good listeners who helped people sort out their problems. Even small villages usually had at least a part-time counselor, though sometimes they might be paid in chickens or other forms of barter. Most counselors were women, and it was an occupation that could be practiced even after marriage and children.
Some counselors were particularly gifted in matters of commerce. Merchants, bankers, and others in trade would use them to determine if a potential buyer, seller, or borrower was honest and reliable.
“I think you’d make an excellent counselor,” Tory said. “You have the ability to read objects, you’re kind, and you have common sense.”
“I’d need to serve an apprenticeship,” Molly said uncertainly. “I’m not sure I could afford the fee.”
“I could help you with that. You helped me a great deal when I was in need of kindness and understanding,” Tory said quietly.
“You’d do that, my lady? That would be wonderful! I always felt I wouldn’t spend my life in service, but I had no idea what I could do instead.”
“Life can send us on new paths at any time.” Certainly Tory’s path was unexpected.
Molly said earnestly, “You may command my services as a counselor forever, my lady. As soon as I return home, I’ll find a counselor who needs an apprentice.”
Tory smiled, pleased with Molly’s decision. She might make a good counselor herself.
CHAPTER 6
Tory couldn’t control her impatience when the carriage halted under Layton Place’s porte cochere. Molly said, “You go along inside, my lady. I’ll arrange for your trunks to be brought in and I’ll press your gowns. I brought your nicest outfits.”
“Thank you. I look forward to wearing something that isn’t practical!” The footman who had watched over them through the journey opened the door and let down the steps. Moving so quickly that her feet barely touched the stone drive underfoot, Tory skipped into the house.
She was greeted by her brother’s butler, who bowed deeply. “Welcome, Lady Victoria. Your sister requested that she be notified as soon as you arrived.” He glanced at a footman, who immediately set off. “If I may take your cloak and bonnet, my lady?”
Tory could hear the chatter of strange voices in nearby rooms. By the time she’d removed her outer garments, Sarah appeared, her face alight. Tall and blond and very lovely, she looked a bit like Cynthia, but with a better disposition. “Tory!”
They hugged each other hard. Tory was on the verge of tears. She’d missed her family so much. Ending the hug, she said, “I used to dream that someday I’d be as tall as you. It hasn’t happened.”
Sarah grinned. “Resign yourself to shortness. I think it’s too late for you to catch up with me.”
Tory had inherited her petite frame and dark hair from her mother’s Russian grandmother, Viktoria Ivanova. She’d also received her name and probably her magic from the woman. “Someone has to be the runt of the litter,” she joked.
“You’re do appear a bit too thin,” Sarah said critically. “But otherwise you’re in good looks. Do they feed you well enough at Lackland?”
“The food isn’t bad, but it’s not like home.”
“You must be hungry after that long journey. Dinner won’t be until rather late, so come up to my room and we’ll have tea and cakes.” Sarah glanced at the butler. “Would you take care of that, Simpson? And ask Lord Roger up also.”
The butler bowed acknowledgment and Sarah swept Tory away. “This will give us some time to catch up before Roger arrives.”
As the sisters climbed the stairs, Tory asked, “Is Mama here yet?”
Sarah’s levity vanished. “She wanted to come, but Father forbade it.”
Tory bit her lip, painfully disappointed. Sarah had to be equally disappointed. “I’m sorry. It’s costing you a lot to have me at your wedding.”
“It’s worth it.” Sarah darted a worried glance. “But—there’s a cost to you also. Remember we’d always assumed we’d stand up for each other at our weddings?”
Tory braced herself. “You’re saying I can’t be your maid of honor.”
“I’m afraid not.” Sarah sighed as she opened the door to her room. “Roger’s family isn’t thrilled that he’s marrying a … a Mansfield.”
“Because the Mansfields are tainted by evil mage blood,” Tory said helpfully as she stepped into the comfortable bedchamber and moved to the small sitting area.
Sarah winced. “The Hawthornes are more tolerant than Father, but they aren’t exactly approving. Do you mind terribly?”
“Do I mind that I’m here on the condition that I stay mum and don’t draw attention?” Tory’s smile was crooked as she recognized how much her life had changed. “The situation doesn’t please me, but I’m very aware that it would have been much easier for you to ignore my existence and have a grander, less complicated wedding at Fairmount. I’ll behave, and I appreciate what you’ve sacrificed to have me here.”
Sarah’s face stilled. “You’ve grown a lot these last few months, Tory.”
Had Sarah expected Tory to make a scene about not being in the wedding? Apparently. Tory shrugged. “I didn’t have much choice.”
Sarah sank onto the small sofa and gestured for Tory to sit. “Is Lackland dreadful?”
Tory took a chair opposite, considering her reply as she smoothed her skirts. “It’s rather like a female version of Eton, only without the beatings that Geoffrey had to endure. Most of the girls are nice and I’ve made good friends. I enjoy most of my classes and teachers.” Except Miss Macklin. “The hardest part was being wrenched away from Fairmount and feeling as if I was a worthless criminal being sent to Newgate Prison.”
Her sister relaxed a little. “I’m glad it’s not worse. If only you hadn’t had to reveal your magic in front of everyone important in the county!”
“You know I didn’t have any choice.” Tory decided to ask something she’d been curious about. “When you visited me the night before I was sent to Lackland, I got the impression that you also have some magical ability.”
Sarah looked away. “A little, perhaps. Hardly any at all.”
“You have enough that it worries you,” Tory pointed out. “Have you ever experimented to see what you can do?”
“Well,” Sarah said reluctantly. “I’ve found that if I concentrate on someone making a journey, they usually have a safe, fast trip with no bad weather.”
Tory’s brows arched. “Did you do that for me?”
Sarah nodded. “I wanted you to arrive as soon as possible, not get bogged down somewhere like Worcestershire.”
“It worked,” Tory said, impressed. “So you’re a weather mage, like Mama.”
“Our mother is a weather mage?” her sister gasped, eyes rounding.
“She won’t admit it, but haven’t you ever thought it odd that the weather for her outdoor fetes and entertainments is always good?”
“I … I never realized. So I came by my ability from her.” Sarah shook her head. “It isn’t fair that she and I were able to escape unscathed while your life was ruined.”
Tory gave a bittersweet smile. “Though my life has been drastically changed, it wasn’t ruined.” She thought of Allarde. Should she tell Sarah about him? No, it would require too many explanations. “There are some splendid compensations.
”
“You aren’t just saying that to make me feel better?” Sarah asked, wanting to believe but not yet convinced.
Tory laughed. “I’m your little sister. Have I ever tried to make your life easier?”
That made Sarah laugh, too. “I wonder if Geoffrey has any magical talent?” Tory said thoughtfully. “Since you and I do, there’s a good chance he does also. Though he might not realize it.”
Her sister looked startled. “I never considered that.”
“Magic is the great forbidden subject for the wellborn,” Tory said dryly. “Since I’m already an outcast, I can think and talk about it. But I won’t while I’m here at Layton Place. Mustn’t make the other guests feel uncomfortable. So fortunate that I’m so small and harmless looking.”
Sarah grinned. “No one who knows you would think you harmless, but you should be able to fool the Hawthornes while you’re here.”
A footman entered with a large tea tray. As he was setting up the teapot, tiny sandwiches, and cakes, Lord Roger arrived. “Tory, I’m so glad you’re here.”
He seemed to mean it, too. Lord Roger Hawthorne was the youngest son of a marquess, a Member of Parliament, and as intelligent as he was amiable. Though not as strikingly handsome as Allarde, he was attractive and good-natured.
Sarah had had several seasons in London without finding a man she wanted to marry, though she hadn’t lacked for offers. Then she met Lord Roger. The two of them started talking and hadn’t stopped since. Sarah would make a wonderful political hostess. Tory was sure that Roger would end up in the cabinet, maybe even be Prime Minister someday.
But now he was about to become her brother-in-law, and his smile was wide and welcoming. Tory rose and clasped his hand. “Thank you for letting me come, Lord Roger. It would have been safer for your career if you hadn’t.”
As he kissed Sarah’s cheek and accepted a steaming cup of tea from her, he said, “Sarah wanted you at the wedding, and what Sarah wants, Sarah gets.”
They exchanged besotted smiles before sitting and giving the cakes and small sandwiches the attention they deserved. Tory was ravenous and tackled the food with gusto. Her appetite had been robust since leaving Lackland.
As she ate a third miniature sandwich, she realized her hunger was because she was using her power more now that she was away from the school. Magic was a constant extra sense observing the world, like hearing and smelling. As she polished off the last of the triangular sandwiches, she said rather guiltily, “I’ve eaten more than my share.”
“We haven’t been traveling and aren’t as hungry,” Lord Roger said. He’d eaten lightly, but was on his third cup of tea. “Tory, I don’t want you to think that your presence will damage my career. Rather the contrary, I suspect. Remember that the vast majority of Britons approve of magic. The men of the district I represent will think better of me for accepting my mage-born sister-in-law.”
“Most people think aristocrats are mad for condemning magic,” Sarah added. “I’ve thought about this a great deal since your abilities were revealed, and I agree. Magic is so useful. People like us are fools for not embracing it.”
“I think Parliament could use an advocate for magic who comes from the nobility,” Roger said seriously. “Thanks to my great uncle, I’m financially independent, so I can buck the disapproval of other aristocrats if I choose.” He took a ginger cake from its plate. “There is a great deal of hypocrisy about magic among our kind. The Mansfields can’t be the only family concealing magic.”
Tory looked innocent. “Not the Mansfields in general. I’m the black sheep. Practically a changeling. I don’t look like anyone else in the family.”
“Roger knows of my modest ability, so there’s no need to claim you’re a changeling.” Sarah nibbled thoughtfully on an iced cake. “After you were revealed as a mageling, he and I had a long talk.” Her fingers tightened on the delicate china of her cup. “Honesty was necessary if our betrothal was to survive.”
If Lord Roger had broken with Sarah, no one would have blamed him. Many would have said he’d done exactly the right thing. “I’m very glad you two decided to marry in spite of my scandalous abilities,” Tory said quietly. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”
“I’m a politician. I don’t embarrass easily,” Roger said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Someday you might even be an asset to my career.”
“I hope our children will grow up in a world where there is more tolerance of magic,” Sarah said. “But enough of that! For the next fortnight, Cecilia and I intend to see that you have a splendid time, Tory. There will be a ball to celebrate the wedding, and Cecilia has promised she’ll invite every attractive young man in the neighborhood for you to flirt with.”
Tory laughed. Though she didn’t have much interest in flirting with anyone but Allarde, a ball would be delightful. “My first ball! You know I love to dance. How many guests are staying here at Layton Place?”
“Most of the men are out hunting at the moment,” Sarah said, “but the house is full up, not counting everyone’s servants. Your room is tiny, and Molly will be sleeping on a pallet on your floor. Several of the neighboring estates are hosting guests, too. It’s the largest house party at Layton Place since Geoffrey and Cecilia moved in.”
“She must be frantic!” Tory said. “It’s time I paid my respects to her.” She eyed the almost empty plate of nut balls. Should she…?
She should. Sweeping up the last two nut balls, she said, “I’ll see you at dinner.” She curtsied gracefully, then left in search of her hostess. Geoffrey would be hunting with his guests. Where might Cecilia be?
Tory visualized her sweet-natured sister-in-law, then searched the house for that energy. Ah, the stillroom, of course. Cecilia was an expert at making medicines and cosmetics and other concoctions used around the house. Plus, the stillroom was a good place to hide from her guests if she wanted some peace.
Since the servants’ stairs were nearby, Tory descended that way. She emerged in the hall next to the kitchen. It was full of tempting scents and busy servants. Presiding over the staff was a tall and majestic cook who had trained at Fairmount and followed Geoffrey to Shropshire when he married and established his own household.
Tory poked her head in the door and said to the cook, “The ginger cakes were particularly fine today, Mrs. Lane.”
Mrs. Lane looked up from the sauce she was stirring with a broad smile. “’Tis fine to see you, Lady Tory! But you’re looking too thin. Don’t be shy about coming down here for a bit to eat between meals. You need fattening.”
“I shall take you up on that,” Tory promised before heading down the flagstone passage to the stillroom. She opened the door and stepped into a chamber warmed by a fire and redolent with the scents of herbs.
Thick bunches of sage and savory and lavender hung from the ceiling, along with braids of onions and garlic. Cecilia was perched on a stool by the worktable and carefully measuring a dark liquid to add to a bowl of some waxy substance. “Cecilia?”
“Tory!” Her sister-in-law looked up with pleasure. “I’m so glad you made it here safely.”
Before she’d even finished speaking, her two-and-a-half-year-old son, Jamie, buzzed around the corner of the worktable. “Aunt Tory!”
She scooped up his warm, solid little body. “Goodness, how you’ve grown since I last saw you!” Which had been on the fateful day that had made her an outcast. But as she held her nephew, she couldn’t be sorry for what she’d done.
“I won’t be able to lift him much longer.” Cecilia came around the table and gave Tory a hug. Fair and soft-spoken, she wasn’t a great beauty, but she had a quiet charm that had captured Geoffrey’s heart the first time they danced at a London ball.
Tory set her wriggling nephew on the floor. “Did you mind when Sarah asked if the wedding could be held here with my scandalous self as a guest?”
“I was the one who suggested it,” Cecilia replied. “Sarah wrote about how difficult Lord Fairmount was b
eing, so I told her she could be married from Layton Place.” She lifted a bottle from a shelf behind her. “Would you like to taste my elderberry cordial? This year’s batch turned out well. It’s very good for coughs and colds, so you should have a few sips after your long journey.”
“I’d love some.” The cordial was sweet and tangy, with a strong kick of alcohol. As its warmth curled through her, Tory held Jamie in her lap and chatted with her sister-in-law. Lackland Abbey seemed a very long way off.
Relaxed and happy, Tory headed upstairs through the main part of the house. The enclosed staircase led up to the ground floor, and she found herself behind two women she didn’t know, presumably Hawthorne relations. They were chatting about the weather and activities planned. Tory didn’t pay attention until the older of the women said in a hushed voice, “My maid tells me that Lord Smithson has invited the other sister, the mageling. She was sent to Lackland, you know.”
The younger woman squeaked with delighted horror. “He didn’t! I hope she has the decency to stay at Lackland rather than come here to ruin the wedding!”
Tory gasped, feeling as if she’d been drenched in ice water. The warm reception from her family had made her temporarily forget how deeply most aristocrats despised mages.
“If she comes, I don’t suppose we can give her the cut direct since she’s sister to our host,” the first woman said with regret. “Her parents aren’t coming to Lady Sarah’s wedding because they refuse to stay in the same house with a creature like her.”
“Very proper of them,” her companion said. “Do you know the girl’s name?”
