“Now!” I said, and Angeline cast her spell. The scent of flowers filled the Golden Hall.
Sir Neville’s shirtfront bulged and rippled. He gave a start. Then he flung his hand up to press it down. His lips began to move in a fast, whispered chant. Burnt meat mingled with the flowers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Gregson start forward.
“No!” I said. “I’ll take care of this myself.”
I narrowed my eyes into a thin slits, until all I could feel was Sir Neville’s spell flying toward Angeline. There … closer … got it.
“NO!” I bellowed, and the air imploded around us.
Sir Neville fell back. His shirt ripped open. A white envelope flew out of it, through the air, straight into my hands.
“What on earth—?” Stepmama began.
“How intriguing,” said Mr. Gregson. “And may I ask—?”
“What is it, Kat?” Elissa said.
I held it out to Mr. Collingwood. “This belongs to you, I think.”
He tore it open with trembling hands. “I—Miss Katherine, I—I—”
His face changed color. He sat down abruptly on the golden floor and put his head in his hands. His shoulders rose and fell. Elissa flew to his side.
I said, “What is it? Was I wrong? Is it—?”
He lifted his face from his hands. He was laughing helplessly, and he had his reckless highwayman grin on his face. “It is my inheritance,” he said. “I am a wealthy man. I could—I could buy and sell Grantham Abbey twice over!”
“You may not—don’t you dare—!” Sir Neville began.
“Fascinating,” said Mr. Gregson. “And how, exactly, did you discover this, Miss Katherine?”
“I’d heard of the will,” I said. “But I didn’t believe in it until just now. You see, I thought Sir Neville would have burned it if it had existed. I didn’t understand why he would have kept it until—”
“Until you realized his mother had been a witch,” said Angeline. A smile spread slowly across her face as she shook her head. “My, my, Sir Neville. Perhaps you do understand something about families after all. No matter how hard you try, you simply cannot leave them behind.”
“She cast a spell on the will before she died,” I said. “It protected the will—and Mr. Collingwood’s inheritance—even after her death. Even when Sir Neville used up his first wife’s magic—and her life—trying to defeat his mother’s spell. That’s why Sir Neville wanted Mama’s magic books—in case she had created a spell of her own that could defeat the protection on his mother’s will. And that’s why he wanted all three of us.”
“Aha,” Mr. Gregson murmured. “And I believe you may have discovered by now that a strong enough Guardian can break any spell or magic-working.”
I nodded. “So if he’d managed to use my Guardian magic against the spell on his mother’s will …”
Stepmama waved away the talk of magic with a shudder. But she had a predatory gleam in her eye as she asked her own question: “Do you mean to say that Mr. Collingwood is now the wealthier brother?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “The money was divided in half. But since Sir Neville must use his half to keep up all his vast estates, and Mr. Collingwood has no properties of his own to tie him down …”
“I believe Sir Neville may be tied very closely to his estates, from now on,” Mr. Gregson said. “And there is very little likelihood of his creating any trouble for the rest of you, is there?” His voice hardened. “Especially with the eyes of the Order fixed firmly upon him. We had only suspicions before—but now we have evidence. If he shows even a hint of trying to harm another innocent through magic …”
Sir Neville let out a growl, like a cornered wolf. “I’ll destroy all your reputations in an instant. When Society finds out the scandalous magic that all of you have been doing—”
“If Society finds out the scandalous and murderous magic you have been doing,” Stepmama said, her voice dagger sharp, “then I think it is you whose reputation will be destroyed. And, more than that, my future son-in-law has every right to take you to court and strip you of every possession you own in recompense for the heinous crime you committed by stealing his inheritance!”
I blinked. Sir Neville took a step back.
“Oh, I say,” Mr. Collingwood said. “I wouldn’t—” He gave a start and looked up at Elissa. Her face was as angelic as ever, but I was ready to swear by his look that she had pinched him.
He drew himself up and squared his shoulders. “That is to say, Neville,” he said, “I shall certainly do exactly that if I ever hear of you threatening my new family again. So you had better stay very close to your estates from now on, and leave innocent young women alone!”
“As I thought,” Stepmama said, and smiled at him. “Welcome to the family, Mr. Collingwood. We are very pleased to have you.”
Mr. Gregson was the first to leave the Golden Hall, transporting Sir Neville with him. While Stepmama drew Mr. Collingwood to one side to fuss over him—and over his mother’s will, which she was eyeing with avid curiosity—my two sisters and I were left with a moment of solitude. But not of peace.
I eyed them nervously. Of course, we had just won … and yet …
Elissa said, “Is this where you were that night I found you next to Mama’s cabinet?”
“Well … yes,” I admitted. “But I didn’t destroy her things on purpose, I swear! That first time I opened her mirror, the magic came like a hurricane. I didn’t know it was going to happen. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”
“It was a terrible shock,” said Elissa, “but we do understand now, truly, darling. You mustn’t worry about it anymore. It was only a horrible accident.”
“And yet it still didn’t teach you to keep out of places you don’t belong,” Angeline said. Her words were sharp, but she half smiled, shaking her head. “I suppose that was probably a lost cause from the start, wasn’t it? Never mind, Kat. You’ve suffered enough by now, I think.”
I could have left it there, with my sisters’ forgiveness. But I remembered the conversation between Mr. Collingwood and his own older brother just a few minutes before, and I took a deep, steadying breath. “I did belong there, at Mama’s cabinet,” I said. I met Angeline’s gaze without backing down. “Just as much as either of you. She was my mother just as much as yours.”
Angeline’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not the same at all. You didn’t know her. You don’t remember—”
“I don’t remember her,” I said. “You’re right. I can’t. I don’t have any of your memories to hold on to. All I have of her is this.” I pointed at the Golden Hall around us. “That’s exactly why I need it.”
Angeline opened her mouth to say something else. But before she could, Elissa spoke.
“I miss Mama every single day,” she said softly. “And I know she would have been proud of you tonight.”
Her arms wrapped warmly around me, and I felt her tears fall on my hair. I blinked hard against my own as I hugged her back.
“Thank you, Kat,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
She straightened and looked over at Stepmama and Mr. Collingwood. The will had changed hands. Stepmama was reading it with sharp concentration while Mr. Collingwood looked on helplessly, tugging at his cravat. Elissa’s eyes widened in alarm as she watched the beads of sweat gather on her new fiancé’s forehead.
“Kat?” she said, “I think it may be time for you to take us back to Grantham Abbey and the rest of the party.”
Angeline followed her gaze, and her lips twitched. “Yes,” she said. “And quickly, too. We don’t want Mr. Collingwood running away before we’ve even announced your betrothal. Do you think perhaps we ought to find him another highwayman’s mask to wear for courage every time he faces Stepmama?”
“Angeline!” Elissa gasped. “Of all the outrageous suggestions—”
“Oh, don’t listen to her,” I said, and rolled my eyes at Angeline.
Angeline only smiled enigmatically i
n return. But her sidelong look at me, as we all linked hands, said as clearly as any spoken words could have: We’re not finished yet.
Once we’d landed in the library, where Mr. Gregson stood with a glowering Sir Neville, Stepmama, Elissa, and Mr. Collingwood swept together into the salon to announce the betrothal and the unexpected discovery of Mr. Collingwood’s fortune. Elissa was beaming as she left, looking less like a tragic heroine than I had ever seen her. Sir Neville stalked out of the house and straight to his carriage in a way I found most satisfying. Angeline stayed behind, waiting for the door to close behind our other relatives before she spoke.
“So you really think you’re a—a ‘Guardian,’ did you call it?” she said.
I felt Mr. Gregson’s eyes on me and sighed. “Yes,” I said. “Mama was, and now I am too.”
“And as a Guardian, you think you’re more powerful than any witch,” Angeline said.
“Erm …” I took a deep breath and looked into my older sister’s dark eyes. “Not yet,” I said. “But I can break a witch’s spell. And I can fight the witches like Sir Neville who use their magic against innocent people.”
“Ha.” She raised a single eyebrow in the way she knew I hated. Then she looked down at Mama’s mirror on the floor nearby. She picked it up. It appeared in my hand a moment later.
Angeline scowled. She muttered something under her breath. It flew back to her hand.
I felt its cool smoothness in my palm less than a second afterward.
“It’s no good,” I said. “I’ve tried not to keep it. It never works.”
“Well.” Angeline pressed her lips together as she looked hard at me. Then she sighed. “Do try not to get completely above yourself, Kat. If you can possibly help yourself, that is.”
She leaned forward and gave me a quick, warm hug. Then she turned away. “I’m going up to my room now,” she said. “Please tell Stepmama I have a headache.”
“But don’t you want to see Elissa and Mr. Collingwood be congratulated?”
“Not now,” Angeline said. “Later I will. But …” She shook her head. I saw the lines of strain and unhappiness against her mouth. “Later,” she said softly. She almost ran out the door.
I turned back to Mr. Gregson, who was watching me with mild eyes. “So,” he said. “I take it you’ve finally come to the conclusion that you do want to join our Order, after all?”
“I think …” I took a deep breath. “I want to fight people like Sir Neville. I want to learn how to use all my powers, like Mama did. But …” I stopped, desperately trying to read his countenance. “You did see Angeline performing witchcraft, didn’t you?”
His lips twitched. “As I have been neither struck blind nor entirely obtuse, yes, in fact, I was aware of what was happening.”
I eyed him narrowly. “And you’re not going to do anything horrible to her?”
He sighed. “I told you, Katherine, we reserve pacification only for those witches who present a genuine threat to Society—like Sir Neville, should he try any of his murderous tricks again. So far, nothing I have observed has given any hint of a threat presented by your sister.”
“But …” My hands curled into fists. I had to know. “If Mama’s love spell would have been considered a threat—”
“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Gregson stared at me.
I winced but continued. It couldn’t hurt Mama for him to find out now. “I know Mama set a love spell on Papa, and that was why he—”
“My dear girl,” Mr. Gregson said. “Your mother broke that very foolish spell herself. How could you know about the spell’s existence, and not know how it ended?”
I stared at him. My chest felt tight. “I saw the spell in her book! She wrote down his name, and—”
Mr. Gregson put one hand on my shoulder. It felt warm and solid, anchoring me. “My dear girl,” he said gently. “Your mother was very young when she met your father. She did cast that spell—indeed, I believe she may have turned to witchcraft in the first place through her love for him. She knew how very unlikely it was that he would choose to marry her with her lack of any dowry, and it was that which caused her to break her Guardian oaths and turn to such desperate methods. But when I spoke to her, just before she was exiled, she confessed it all to me. Not only did she release him from the betrothal, but she broke the spell before my eyes and of her own accord. She bitterly regretted the injustice she had done him by casting it.”
“But—but—” I looked into his pale blue eyes. They were steady on mine. “But they still married! He still married her! He—”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Gregson said, “you do not know everything about your father after all.”
My mouth was hanging open. I closed it with a snap.
I remembered Mama’s cabinets. All those scandalous magical items, all so carefully preserved. Papa hadn’t let Stepmama destroy them, after all.
Perhaps there was far more to my parents’ history than I had ever understood. But I was going to find out. And I was going to do something else, too.
“I will join your Order, after all,” I said. It was a gamble as risky as any Charles had ever made, but the words felt right as I said them.
I was going to fight dangerous rogue witches like Sir Neville and keep them from hurting anybody else. But I wasn’t going to stand by and let any of the Lady Fotheringtons in the Order persecute innocent witches, either. The whole Order was going to have to make some massive changes while I was a member—because, just like Mama before me, I wasn’t going to let myself be bound by either ignorance or prejudice.
But it was too early to let anyone know about that. So I just smiled dazzlingly and said, “But don’t expect me to become one of those students who never questions her tutor.”
“Somehow, that does not surprise me,” Mr. Gregson said, and sighed.
“And more than that,” I said. “I have a full list of conditions to set out before I join. When I’m older, I’ll marry whoever I want to marry—if I decide to get married at all. And no matter what, Lady Fotherington is never, ever going to be one of my teachers!”
“I doubt you could persuade her into it no matter how hard you tried,” said Mr. Gregson. “I should warn you, Katherine, that you may not have an easy time of it. Lady Fotherington is not the only one in our Order who was appalled by your mother’s decisions. You will have to expect some opposition, and even distrust, when you first begin your work with us. And I’m afraid you will also have to expect—”
“Oh, I can manage all that,” I said. “I’m not afraid of being talked about. But I won’t have anyone trying to work any magic on me. You can tell Lady Fotherington that too. Or rather, I’ll tell her so myself, as soon as I’m finished with my business tonight. I know how to break her magic-workings now, and I shall, if she makes any more attempts.”
“Understood,” Mr. Gregson murmured. “So am I to understand that you are finally ready to accept me as your tutor?”
“For a while,” I said. “I want to find out what Mama could do, and what I can become, if I work hard enough.” I took a deep breath and looked out the library windows into the darkness over Grantham Abbey. “But I still have two more conditions.”
“More?” Mr. Gregson sighed. “I knew you would be difficult, Katherine, but really—”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “These ones should be easy for you.” I grinned as I turned to face him. “All that I still need tonight are a pistol and a horse.”
I was dressed in my boys’ clothes again, for speed, as the horse I rode astride tore down the long road in the moonlight. The wind ruffled the short hair against my neck. Mr. Gregson had retrieved Mr. Collingwood’s horse for me from the stables, along with the pistol I’d required. There had been a glint in his eyes that looked like danger as he’d handed the horse’s reins to me, and I had an uneasy feeling that things might not progress quite as easily from then onward. But the horse felt like an old friend underneath me, so I didn’t let myself worry about the future. In
stead I swung one leg across the saddle, like a boy, and let exhilaration fill me up like sparkling champagne as I rode away from Grantham Abbey.
When I glimpsed Sir Neville’s carriage ahead, I leaned over my horse’s neck and urged him on. We flew past the jet-black carriage and sent my laughter back to Sir Neville through the wind.
It took me only ten more minutes to spot the second carriage on the road—one of Lady Graves’s green and gold traveling carriages, borrowed for the journey. It was traveling at a snail’s pace, as if even the driver thought that leaving was a bad idea.
It was hardly even a challenge. The driver faced away from me, and no footman had accompanied this journey. Nobody even turned to note my arrival.
Until I drew the pistol from my jacket and fired it straight into the air.
The horses leaped straight up. The carriage jerked to a stop. The driver’s full attention had to stay on the horses as he fought to control them; he could only throw one swift, wide-eyed look back at me, in my boys’ clothing and full, swirling black cloak.
The carriage door jerked open. “What the devil—?” began Frederick Carlyle.
I rode straight up to his open door. “Stand and deliver!” I said, and grinned.
“Miss Katherine?” He stared at me and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re playing at this time, but I can’t—”
“Oh, yes, you can,” I said, and pointed the pistol at him. “Your money or your life,” I said. “And since I know you don’t have any money on you …” I shrugged. “There’s only one possible solution.”
I could see him fighting not to laugh. “Is that pistol even loaded, or did you just fire the only bullet in it?”
I raised both eyebrows at him. “Does it matter?”
“Do you honestly believe you can make me—”
“I know one thing,” I said. “My sister is up in her bedroom crying her eyes out over you right now.”
Mr. Carlyle went still. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “Angeline Stephenson doesn’t care a jot for me. I’m just—”
“You’re her true love,” I said. “That’s what her magic spell was for: to summon her true love. And it worked, even if you haven’t realized it yet.”
Kat, Incorrigible Page 21
