by Zen Cho
Zacharias nodded. “I have always believed marriage without affection to be indefensible—the cause of much misery and sin, that might easily have been avoided.”
Prunella came closer, walking light-footed and cautious, as if she were approaching a wild animal. She surveyed his countenance closely. Her own was grave, as free as a child’s of cruelty or design.
“Then you would not approve of my marrying for money,” she said.
“That is a matter for you to settle with your own conscience,” said Zacharias. “If you were inclined to accept my offer on those grounds, I would be content that the principles under which you operate permitted me to attain happiness in accordance with mine. I would not presume to sit in judgment upon your decision.”
“Quite right. It is not for you to judge me, indeed,” said Prunella, with asperity. “You do love me?”
“Yes, Prunella.”
“Then,” said Prunella, scowling with inconceivable ferocity, “you may as well know that in accepting your offer, my reasons accord with yours—that they could not be faulted, judged according to your principles.”
Greatly daring, Zacharias touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. Prunella went pink, but her brow remained furrowed.
“Lady Wythe will be pleased,” she said. “She always said it was a shocking thing to marry for money.”
“So it is.”
“She told me I ought to marry for love, but contrive to fall in love with a man of substance,” said Prunella. Her frown deepened. “It will gratify her that I have followed her advice.”
“I beg you will forgive my impertinence,” said Zacharias, “but would you object very much to a kiss?”
Prunella looked crosser and pinker than ever. “I should have thought I had spoken in terms suited to the meanest understanding. If you need to ask I cannot think you have understood me at all.”
“I thought it civil to ask,” said Zacharias.
Prunella stuck out her chin in a manner Zacharias recognised to be more comical than becoming. He found it inexpressibly charming nonetheless.
“Well,” she said, as one daring another to do something very dangerous, “why do not you try it, and see what happens?”
Zacharias did, which served to divert them both sufficiently that conversation was suspended for a time. Youko came over to investigate, but grew bored when her mistress paid her no regard, and wandered out of the cottage in search of amusement. Tjandra, more discreet, put his head under his wing and went to sleep.
“You will come back to town?” said Prunella, after a period of deep interest to both had passed. “Lady Wythe misses you, and so do Damerell and Rollo.”
“I will come,” said Zacharias. The caterpillars could be dealt with somehow, he reflected.
“You will be a great help with the papers,” said Prunella, brightening. The sunshine, streaming in through the window, haloed her in golden light, turning her hair to a rich burnished brown. Zacharias curled a silken lock around his finger, marvelling at its hue and texture, until the next thing Prunella said made him drop it. “I have been feeding my letters to Tjandra and Youko, but I cannot do that forever. I fear too much will interfere with their digestion.”
“Prunella—!”
“Oh, I almost forgot!” she exclaimed. “When it was the whole reason I came to see you! Mrs. Daubeney would not countenance the teaching of magic at her school, but I wrote to Henrietta Stapleton—we could never break her of levitating in her sleep, you know—and sure enough, she was delighted, and she has got together a group of old girls as contrary as she, who wish to teach. Lady Wythe has found us a suitable building, and the renovations will be complete within a few months, but I have not been at liberty to give them the assistance they need. It is persuading the parents that requires the most work—they will have enough students to open the school with, if that can only be achieved. They will be delighted to have you to help them. I must say it has all fallen out admirably.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why, the school,” cried Prunella. “The school for magiciennes. Not that it will be restricted to girls—we intend to open it to the labouring classes, and foreigners, and half-castes, and irregular persons of all sorts. That is all a great secret, of course; if the parents were to have wind of it, we should never bring it off. Lady Wythe is prodigiously fired up about it, and goes about all the great houses in town, demanding that they contribute either funds or daughters. Though we have enough money to start out with, for the Society has given us all we need for the nonce.”
“The Society is funding it?” said Zacharias. This was the greatest shock he had received all morning. “How did you contrive that?”
“You of all people ought to know, Zacharias,” said Prunella, surprised. “You said it yourself. I am very, very good at being Sorceress Royal.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to my agent, Caitlin Blasdell, for her infinite pains with this book, as well as to Hannah Bowman for her comments on the manuscript.
Thank you to Diana Gill and Bella Pagan, and the fantastic teams at Berkley/Ace/Roc and Pan Macmillan.
I am amazingly fortunate in my loving, creative, plain-speaking and hilarious family. Thanks for everything, Mom, Dad, Ko and Rin.
This book could not have been written without the unfailing love and support of my husband, Peter. No writer could have a better companion. I didn’t write this book for you, but I hope you accept it anyway.
I have started a lot of stories in my life, but I might not have completed any of them if not for the belief, enthusiasm and eyeballs of my imaginary friends who live in the Internet. Thank you. You know who you are.
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