But merely for a moment. As if by instinct, I found myself listening for magic, hoping against hope that it would be clearer out here in the open. But no, it was still a muddle—and after my experience this morning, the fractured sounds made my skin prickle with apprehension. I stood my ground for a minute longer, but my fear only grew, and with it came a consciousness of how very exposed I was. Too many windows looked out on this courtyard. Anyone could be watching me.
I ducked back inside and left the passageway. I needed to find a safe haven, a protected place, somewhere I could take stock and decide what to do next. But by now I was completely lost again. Unnerved, I chose routes at random, dodging anyone who came my way, racing faster and faster. Eventually I stumbled across a place I recognized: the library where Nat and I had met that morning.
As I stood there, catching my breath, I heard a fierce whisper behind me: “I thought you were going to stay in your rooms.”
I spun around. Nat stood there, looking every bit as dangerous as Sybil had made him sound.
As he came closer, I saw the worry in his eyes.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said. “It’s all over the palace that you spent the morning with Sybil Dashwood and Gabriel—the very two people I warned you about. Is that true?”
“It’s all right.” I rushed to reassure him. “I didn’t come to any harm.”
He didn’t seem relieved. “You might come to harm if you go on like this—spending time with two of the likeliest suspects in the whole palace! What were you thinking?”
“I hoped I might learn something useful.” I explained what Penebrygg had said about finding the crucible, and how it might change the King’s mind.
Nat looked more and more alarmed. “You mean you went to see the King, too?”
“Yes, though it didn’t do me any good. But if I found the crucible—”
“You mean you’re serious about that? Lucy, you can’t. Not when—” He stopped himself and lowered his voice, even though the library doors were shut. “Not given what’s happened to you.”
“I can’t just sit and do nothing,” I said in frustration. “And don’t tell me you could, if it were you. Because I know you: you’d be out and about, trying to sort things out yourself.”
Two traits I loved in Nat were his honesty and the way he treated me as an equal. Watching the struggle in his face, I thought that both were in jeopardy. Then his eyes met mine.
“Point taken,” he said with a sigh. “You’re right: it’s not fair to ask something of you that I wouldn’t do myself. It’s just—” His hands balled up. “It’s hard thinking of you wandering around with people who might hurt you. Who might already be hurting you.”
“I’m being careful,” I assured him. “And I’m learning things. Useful things.”
His hands remained tense, but I could see he was intrigued. “Like what?”
“Well, Sybil knows a lot about Chantresses. No great surprises there, but she knows a fair amount about alchemy, too.”
“Alchemy?” Nat considered this. “That is interesting.”
“It does make you wonder, doesn’t it? And there are other things too.”
“Like what?”
“It’s hard to describe.” The more I thought about it, the less certain I was that the look she’d given me in the laboratory had meant anything. It was true that she had a relatively transparent face, but I didn’t know her well enough to read it perfectly.
“Do you think she’s the thief?” Nat said.
I hesitated. “On balance? No. Whoever stole the crucible is good at keeping secrets. And Sybil, well . . . that’s not her strong suit. She’s always blurting out exactly what she’s thinking.”
“That could be an act,” Nat said.
“Maybe. But she told me all about her mother’s dealings with alchemists. And she really shocked Gabriel when she talked about the Green Lion and the Black Crow and the Transformation. If she truly were up to something, wouldn’t she have kept all that to herself?”
“How did you know Gabriel was shocked?” Nat asked.
“I was watching him.”
“I see.”
That was all Nat said, but I felt my cheeks grow warm. Did he know that Gabriel had proclaimed himself my valentine? “I—I don’t trust him one bit,” I said.
I couldn’t see Sybil as a thief and a murderer, but Gabriel . . . it was just possible. After all, he’d been a fervent disciple of alchemy for years. What if he wanted to make the Stone for himself? That would be reason enough for him to steal the crucible.
But, of course, Gabriel wasn’t the only person in Greenwich who was obsessed with alchemy. And there were plenty of other people who had no witnesses as to their whereabouts on that night. If magic were involved, perhaps even those with unbreakable alibis might be involved in the theft in some way. . . .
Face it, I told myself. You have no idea who stole the crucible. You’re just going around in circles. And time keeps ticking away. . . .
“I’m sure he’s up to no good,” Nat said grimly, and I realized he was still talking about Gabriel.
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ve been watching him this week myself, and I’ve seen him coming in and out of the alchemy laboratory in the middle of the night, all alone. And he spends a lot of time near Sir Isaac’s rooms, even though his own are on the other side of the palace.”
“That is strange. But maybe Sir Isaac wants him close at hand.”
“He’s there even when Sir Isaac’s out,” Nat said. “So something’s up. I just don’t know what.”
It sounded thin to me. Maybe the truth was that Nat simply didn’t like Gabriel. Whatever the answer, I wasn’t about to add fuel onto any fires by leaping to Gabriel’s defense. Especially not when I harbored my own vague suspicions of him as well.
“I could help keep watch on him,” I offered.
“No,” Nat said emphatically. “Look: I know you don’t want to stay in your room, and I understand why. But there’s someone very dangerous on the loose here, someone who might already have attacked you. And there’s a real chance that it’s Gabriel. I don’t want you around him any more than is absolutely necessary.”
He was so close that I could see the smoky green flecks in his warm hazel eyes. He touched my cheek with his thumb, as gentle as his voice was rough. “I mean it when I say I’d do anything to keep you safe, Lucy. If only I could get you out of this place. . . .”
I froze. Someone was calling me. “Chantress?”
It was Margery. I jerked back from Nat in panic. “You should go,” I whispered. I couldn’t hope to avoid Wrexham’s spy forever, but it would be very bad if she discovered us together.
Instead of moving away, Nat pulled me closer and kissed me. For an instant, delight eclipsed fear. Nat, my Nat, with his arms around me . . .
“My lady Chantress? Are you here?” Margery was coming ever closer.
Fear clamped down again, and I pulled away. “Go!” I whispered.
This time Nat raced for the door behind us. I hastened the other way, hoping the heat in my cheeks and lips wouldn’t show.
In the room beyond, I came across Margery. “You called?” I said.
Margery regarded me with a cool expression, but I could see anger in the folds of her mouth. “Where have you been, my lady? You’re late for your fitting.”
“My fitting?”
“With the seamstresses. I made the arrangements with them this morning, and they were due to arrive at your room a quarter of an hour ago. Of course, I never imagined you’d be away half the day. We’ll have to hope they’ll wait for you, or you’ll have nothing fit to wear to the banquet tonight.”
“The banquet?”
“For Valentine’s Day. Had you forgotten?”
I hadn’t even heard about it. Was that what Gabriel had meant when he’d talked about seeing me tonight? “Is it really necessary that I go?”
Margery looked shocked, as if
I’d proposed turning down God himself. “It is a royal invitation, my lady. You cannot refuse. Not without giving offense to the King. And it will be an offense to him, too, if you are not properly dressed.”
That settled matters, then. I could not afford to offend the King. Like it or not, I would have to go with Margery now. And I would have to go to the banquet, too.
And all the while, the hours would keep slipping away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE BANQUET
Within an hour, I had come to the frustrating conclusion that it is impossible to move, let alone escape anywhere, when you are surrounded by seamstresses sticking pins into you. In desperation, I claimed to be faint, but that got me nowhere. Margery just stood over me, making me sip water, while the seamstresses trotted out samples of cloth and trimmings until I thought I would scream.
Four hours later, I stood in the anteroom of the Great Hall, trussed up like a Christmas goose. The seamstresses had done their best, but it had proved impossible to make an entire new costume at such short notice. Instead, to my embarrassment, I was wearing someone else’s dress. Hearing of my difficulties—through Joan, who was friendly with the seamstresses—Sybil had sent some of her own garments to me, with a message that I was to alter them as I saw fit, for she no longer had need of them.
A gracious gesture, but Sybil was taller and shapelier than I was, and it had been necessary to rip out seams and baste in new ones to keep the bodice from falling off me. The skirts, too, had required pinning and tucking. In spite of these efforts, the fabric still slid around and crumpled in odd places—a fault that grew more marked by the moment.
My fingers went up to the pins at my shoulder. I had terrible visions of the silken folds unraveling midbanquet. Perhaps I should just retreat now . . . though what retreat could there be, with Margery standing over me? Even now, she was watching me from the nearest doorway. But truly, while I was wearing this dress and the high-heeled slippers that matched it, there was no need for her to bother. I was as tethered as a staked goat.
Just as I was about to totter into the Great Hall, Sybil swished up to me, a vision in strawberry-red satin. Her bodice made the most of every curve, and pearls glowed against her shell-pink skin. Her face radiated nothing but pleasure in seeing me; I wondered again if I had only imagined that look of guilt earlier.
She linked her arm in mine. “Dear Lucy, you look wonderful.”
I look absurd, I wanted to say, but since the dress was hers, I thought that might be rude.
Apparently my face gave me away, however, for she laughed and said, “Really, you do, whatever you might think. That sea green suits you. Indeed, it looks far better on you than it ever did on me. And no need to worry that anyone here has seen it either; I haven’t worn it in ages. I honestly don’t know why Joan packed it, but now I’m glad she did.”
It was hard not to be moved by her kindness. “You’re very generous—”
She cut me off with a smile. “Nonsense. I was only too happy to help. Especially after having made such a misstep this afternoon.”
“A misstep?” I wasn’t sure what she meant.
“Asking you to do magic for us like that.” Again she had the expression I’d seen in the laboratory: eyes abashed, a faint blush. “Chantress magic isn’t a plaything—that’s what Grandmama always used to say. I shouldn’t have asked you to use it for such a silly reason. It wasn’t right.”
So I’d read the signs right: Sybil had felt guilty. But not for the reasons I’d feared. And if she wasn’t going to demand I do magic anymore, then my life would be easier. I relaxed a little despite the benighted pins at my shoulder. “No need to say another word about it. I’m glad you understand.”
“Oh, I do, believe me.” Lowering her voice, she said, “I hope I didn’t offend you with the other things I said either.”
“What other things?”
“About trying other kinds of magic. I truly meant only to help.”
“It was good of you to offer—”
“You mean you would like to try them?” Sybil bounced on her toes in anticipation. “Oh, I do hope so. It would be such a thrill to assist you.”
Much as I liked Sybil, I wasn’t prepared to dabble in strange magic with her. “It’s very kind of you, but—”
“Oh no,” Sybil interrupted. “Steel yourself. Gabriel’s making a beeline for you.”
“For us, you mean.”
“No, you,” Sybil said. “He’s fond of me, in his own way. But there’s something different about the way he looks at you. I think he’s smitten.” Seeing my expression, she laughed. “Oh, don’t look so horrified, Lucy. I know how you feel about Nat, but Gabriel’s a fine man in his own right. Most girls would congratulate themselves if they attracted his interest.”
Maybe. But I wasn’t most girls.
Yet the moment of meeting was not as awkward as I’d feared. Gabriel was merely the vanguard of what turned out to be an army of courtiers. With cheers and huzzahs, they surrounded Sybil and me like a phalanx and carried us off to the banquet.
† † †
Such a wonder that banquet was! The Great Hall, blanketed in hothouse flowers, was a vast room, and yet the crush of people was so great that it almost seemed too small to hold them. Every corner was packed with courtiers and councillors—though Nat was not among them, at least not that I could see.
Eventually I found myself seated at the far end of the King’s table, pinned in between Lord Gabriel and Lord Ffoulkes, Wrexham’s florid ally, who had been one of my more surprising bouquet-bringers. Not my ideal choice of dining companions—Gabriel had steered me toward the chair before I’d quite realized what was happening—but it hardly mattered. The din of the crowd was so loud that it was difficult to make conversation.
The table itself, however, could not be faulted. China and silver gleamed against spotless linen, and candlelight danced in a thousand pieces of crystal, from the pendants on the vases to the glass in my hand. But what stunned me most of all was the food. Platter after platter appeared, each with a different offering.
Two seats down from me, on the far side of Lord Ffoulkes, Sybil ladled oysters from a golden bowl. The gooseberry-eyed Aunt Goring, to whom I had been briefly introduced, sat across from her, filling a plate with roast swan and asparagus. On my right, Lord Ffoulkes partook of ham and roast beef. On my left, Gabriel passed me an enormous tureen of strawberries. And those were only a few of the sixty dishes being served tonight, or so Lord Ffoulkes told me.
My mouth watered on seeing the strawberries—an extraordinary sight in the middle of February. I piled them onto my plate, along with a dollop of cream and several oysters, and picked up my spoon. I couldn’t wait to dig in. I’d eaten very little that day, and I was famished.
Famished . . .
I thought of the children I’d seen on the road from Norfolk. That was what famished meant. I put my spoon down.
“Eat up, my lady, eat up!” Lord Ffoulkes was right beside me, but he almost had to shout to be heard. “No need to be dainty. There are victuals enough to feed a crowd twice this size.”
I raised my voice in turn. “Lord Ffoulkes, where does all this food come from?”
“Come from? No need to bother your pretty head about that, Chantress. Just eat and enjoy.” He tried to load more strawberries onto my plate.
I held up my hand. “No, thank you.” Your pretty head? Did he think such words would please me?
Apparently so. Looking hurt, he dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Perhaps the spirit of the occasion has escaped you, my lady. A banquet is meant to be a celebration.”
“I’m not sure there’s much to celebrate,” I said, but Lord Ffoulkes had already turned to Sybil.
On my other side, Gabriel leaned over and said, “You wish to know where the food comes from?”
“Yes.” I bent toward him, hoping he would have an answer for me. “There’s so much of it, and so many kinds. Is it English? Did they import it?”
“I couldn’t tell you myself. But ask Wrexham. He’ll know. He sees to everything around here.” He drained his glass. “A finger in every pie, that’s Wrexham for you.” Glancing up the table, he gave a sour laugh.
I followed his gaze and saw Wrexham at the King’s right hand, looking like a demigod in the splendor of candles. His plate was loaded high with every kind of delicacy, and he was spearing a slice of venison with his knife. Evidently he was not troubled by the specter of hunger beyond these palace walls.
Knife in midair, Wrexham looked down the table, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of me. The animosity in his face made me lose what little appetite I had left.
I pushed my plate away.
“He’s a beast,” Gabriel said in my ear.
I was astonished by his venom—and by how closely his feelings mirrored mine.
“They say his father was even worse,” Gabriel went on. “But I find that hard to believe. Though they say he broke any man who crossed him, even his own son. He almost beat the life out of Wrexham once.” He added vehemently, “Wish I’d been there to see it.”
Not sure how to respond, I said, “You know the family well?”
“Know them? I should think so,” Gabriel said. “I’m Wrexham’s ward.”
His easygoing confidence had deserted him; he looked touchy and tense. I put my next question to him with care. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means that when my father died last year, the courts named Wrexham guardian of my person and of all the property I am to inherit. For a fee.”
I had been at Court long enough to have heard about fees. “You mean he bribed them?”
“Of course.” Gabriel scraped his plate with his knife. “It’s how it’s done, by everyone. Wardships are a good way for men to make money; they can manage the lands for their own profit until their wards come of age. It was just my bad luck to end up with Wrexham. I doubt there will be anything left of the estate by the time I’m twenty-one.”
Chantress Alchemy Page 13
