The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  Ms Kyryl handed out sheets of paper with a list of characters, including Farmer One, Farmer Two, Cabbage, Turnip, Apple, Setting Sun and Harvest Moon.

  Ms Kyryl continued, “It’s traditional for the festival to follow the full moon, which this year will begin on Thursday the twenty-ninth of October. The Harvest Ball and pageant will be on the Saturday. Now, children, who would like to play the role of Harvest Moon?”

  Ondine worked out the dates. The Saturday would fall on October the thirty-first, Halloween.[124]

  Several hands shot up in the air. Ms Kyryl’s eyes alighted on Hetty and she gave her the role. Hetty looked delighted and beamed with pride. Ondine felt a bit silly that she hadn’t raised her hand fast enough.

  Ms Kyryl cast more speaking roles. Each time, Ondine shot her hand up, only to miss out. Until it came to Cabbage. Nobody wanted to be Cabbage.[125]

  Ondine sighed, raised her hand and felt the sting of defeat. “I’ll be Cabbage if you like,” she said.

  The boys sitting across from them giggled.

  “Hush, class,” Ms Kyryl said. “Thank you, Ondine, you are very gracious.”

  They read through the play. Each time Ondine came to do her lines the boys sitting on the other side of the classroom made squelching noises with their hands in their armpits.

  Hetty murmured, “Don’t let them get to you. They are just snotty boys.”

  “Thanks.” Ondine hadn’t known Hetty for long, but already she began to feel she had an ally in this strange palace.

  Miss Kyryl said, “Very good everyone. OK, put your scripts away and we’ll have a history lesson.”

  Ondine and Hetty took out their notebooks.

  Ms Kyryl smiled to the class. “Now, children, who can tell me when Brugel was founded?”

  Everyone’s hands went up. Not to be overlooked, Ondine shot hers in the air too because she knew the answer.

  The teacher’s eyes alighted on Ondine and she answered with satisfaction, “Brugel was declared an independent state in twelve sixty-four.”[126]

  Giggles rippled through the classroom. What? How could the answer be wrong?

  “Not to worry,” Ms Kyryl said. “Who can tell us the real answer?”

  Looking bright and perky, Hetty responded with, “Brugel was the first land found after the flood.”

  “Correct.”

  WHAT! Ondine felt her eyebrows nearly shoot off her forehead. Keeping her voice low, she murmured to Hetty, “There was a flood? When?”[127]

  “Who founded Brugel?” Ms Kyryl asked.

  Ordinarily Ondine knew the answer, but she kept her hand down this time.

  Another student said, “The four mountain tribes joined together to defeat the barbarians.”

  Ms Kyryl said, “That’s right. And the leader of the tribes?”

  Another child this time: “Became the first Grand Duke.”

  “Very good. And how many Grand Dukes and Dukes have we had?”

  “Two hundred and seven,” another child said.

  “And have we ever had a Duchess lead Brugel?” This time the students kept their hands down, but after a bit of thought, Hetty raised her hand and answered, “Elmaree the First became Grand Duchess in seventeen forty.”

  “Very good,” Ms Kyryl said. “And during her reign the Russian empire annexed the Grand Duchy of Brugel. After Elmaree, what happened? Anyone?”

  No hands went up, so the teacher supplied the information: “Her son Leopold led a rebellion to secure autonomy for Brugel. After that, Brugel lost its status and became a Duchy instead of a Grand Duchy, but it regained its independence. Have we had any more Duchesses?”

  Some of the children shook their heads, not entirely sure.

  The teacher supplied the answer. “In nineteen eighteen we had Duchess Yalene. During her reign, can anyone tell me what happened?”

  Ondine’s hand rose in the air, because she had a fair idea of the answer. Not from the name of the ruler, but from the date. It was ingrained in Brugelish DNA.

  “Yes, Ondine?”

  “Brugel became part of the Soviet Union.”

  “Very good!”

  Relief crashed through Ondine at finally getting something right.

  “We nearly had another Duchess more recently, can anyone tell me?”

  All hands shot in the air. “The Infanta Anathea,” Hetty said.

  “Correct. She was heir presumptive and would have been Duchess . . . until what happened? Can anyone tell me?”

  Just about every child recited, “Lord Pavla was born and Brugel rejoiced.”

  “That’s right. Lord Pavla the Fourth is Duke of Brugel.”

  “And we’ve got our independence,” a boy across the room said. “And that’s why Brugel is always better off with a Duke.”

  Ondine blurted, “That’s hardly fair.”

  Ms Kyryl’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Quite a statement. Andreas?” She looked at the boy who had just spoken. “Care to elaborate?”

  Andreas looked smug and arrogant. He had to be at least two years younger than Ondine, but that precocious look on his pale, lean face told the world he knew everything.

  “The facts speak for themselves. The times Brugel had a Duchess, we lost our autonomy.”

  “But . . .” Heat roared through Ondine. “They just happened to be Duchesses during really difficult times.”

  Andreas gave her a look of utter superiority and scratched the side of his nose. Ondine could have sworn he sneaked the edge of his thumb inside and had a pick as well. “We have had Grand Dukes and Dukes during very difficult times as well, but they didn’t lose their country.”[128]

  His smugness reminded Ondine so much of Lord Vincent that she couldn’t help wondering if they might be related. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she pushed it aside. She would not let Vincent unsettle her, she’d put all that behind her.

  “An interesting debate,” Ms Kyryl said, “but there were also times when Duchesses, although not ruling in their own right, acted as regents to their sons who became Grand Dukes. Brugel did not lose its autonomy then.”

  “Doesn’t change the facts,” Andreas said with the self-satisfaction of someone who was too young to know anything but already knew everything.

  Ondine thought about her encounter with the Infanta the previous night. Maybe some people thought Brugel was better off with the Duke at the helm, but she knew Anathea didn’t see it that way and wanted her rightful place on the throne.

  But how far would she go to claim back her birthright?

  Chapter Ten

  That afternoon Ondine’s ears rang with censure as she put another coin in the payphone to keep the call going.

  “You will come back on the first train, young lady.” Her mother’s voice ripped into her.

  The coin-warning light on the soviet-era phone flickered again. It wanted more money or it would cut out. How unfair that she had to pay to listen to Ma scream at her.

  “Everything is fine, really. And I have an important job to do, and Col is taking very good care of us.”

  “I don’t care. You get back here this instant!”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Who would want to go home with such a screaming reception waiting for her? Besides, she needed to be with Hamish. “Sorry, Ma, the light’s flashing again and I’ve run out of money. Can you send me some?”

  “I’m not going to fund your escapades!”

  “Well, then, I’ll have to keep working so I can save up enough to get the train ticket back. Sorry, Ma, but the phone –”

  The line went dead. Light-headed with relief, Ondine replaced the receiver and headed to the laundry. She worked hard with Draguta, washing and then hanging clothes and sheets on the lines. The fishy smell had almost gone from the courtyard, which was a definite plus. The sun gave some warmth but the wind had a cool bite to it. When it was time for her tea break at three o’clock, she dashed off towards the crepe myrtle trees, her skirts whipping at her legs. The papery
flowers were in their last flush of bloom. Their pink, white and red petals looked so beautiful against the green leaves and marble grey of the trunks. Dried petals sprinkled the ground like confetti. The trees were so old and well looked after, they formed a flowery tunnel to walk under. More importantly, they offered a secluded place to meet.

  As she walked under the trees, Ondine’s heart caught in her throat. Standing there like a groom at the altar was Hamish.

  Not the ferret, but proper Hamish, wearing freshly pressed black trousers and a white shirt. Sunlight filled her as she raced to him and threw her arms around his neck.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” She whispered into his ear.

  “And it’s always so lovely tae see ye, lass,” he said as she pulled away to get a good look at his gorgeous face. He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Although I see yer face every time I close me eyes.”

  Ondine felt herself beaming all over at the compliment. For a moment she didn’t know what to say. All she wanted to do was gaze adoringly into his sparkling green eyes for a while. So she did. Then she touched the delicate skin on his neck where last night she’d seen only matted fur and dried blood. To her surprise, his skin looked unharmed.

  “It doesn’t have a scratch!”

  “Aye.”

  “Did it heal when you changed?”

  “It must hae.” Hamish gave a shrug. “There’s got tae be an upside tae all of this.”

  Ondine kissed the spot anyway. “Now you’re all better.”

  She felt his muscles tighten under her lips and he gave a soft groan. “Don’t be so sure. If ye do that again, I’ll fall apart at the seams.”

  She giggled and kissed him again in the same spot.

  “All right, you two, that’s enough.” Aunt Col suddenly made her presence known, her words mentally dousing Ondine with cold water. In the cool autumn air, Aunt Col looked pale, her hair a little more salt than pepper, and was that a wattle forming at her neck? A pang of sadness gripped Ondine. Every time her great aunt looked at Hamish he reminded her of her lost youth. Would the same happen to Ondine? Would Hamish stay young as she grew old?

  Col cleared her throat. “We need to compare notes about last night. Vincent is not happy we’re here, so let’s do our best not to antagonise him.”

  Ondine rubbed her shin at the memory.

  Hamish’s hand slipped into hers behind her back. The contact made it hard for her to think straight.

  “So, let’s report,” Aunt Col said.

  “Um.” Ondine had a think. “Apart from the soup incident with the Infanta, nothing else so far. Everyone here seems to have a lot of work to do. I think they’re too busy to plot the Duke’s downfall.”

  “Yes.” Col chewed at her bottom lip and her forehead seemed to develop more wrinkles. “All the same, disgruntled staff can bear a grudge.” Col yawned. “Oh, bless me. I need more coffee. Now, what was I saying?”

  Behind Ondine’s back, Hamish entwined his fingers in hers and she felt her brain go fuzzy.

  “It’s early days yet, but keep your eyes and ears open,” Col said. “I’d hazard a guess there’s no love lost between Duchess Kerala and Anathea. You were under the table at the time, Hamish, but I saw them look daggers at each other at dinner.”

  “Aye, I was busy liberating silverware from someone’s handbag. Who was sitting down towards the kitchen door by the way?”

  “They would be Anathea’s daughters.” Old Col rubbed her temple in frustration. “Which is another black mark for the Infanta.”

  “I will be extra vigilant in the laundry and keep a lookout for stolen things too,” Ondine said. Meanwhile Hamish kept playing with her hand and she came over all silly.

  Old Col huffed in frustration. “Stop it, you two. We’re not getting very far just yet, but I think it’s important to compare notes as often as we can. Ondine, you should get back to work before you are missed. Hamish, we need to check the Duke’s mail.”

  “Yes, Col.” Ondine made to move away, but Hamish gently tugged her hand and brought her back to him. Despite her great-aunt watching. Ondine kissed Hamish firmly on the lips. The contact sent jolts of electricity through her.

  “Love ye. See ye soon, lass.” Hamish winked at her.

  Ondine’s tummy turned to jelly and she giggled. Then reality crashed through. “Wait. You’re opening mail?”

  “Yes, and the afternoon post has just arrived,” a commanding voice said.

  The three of them looked up to see Duke Pavla himself approaching, arm in arm with Duchess Kerala. They were taking an afternoon stroll in the gardens together. As they stopped, Kerala tilted her head to rest it on Pavla’s shoulder.

  Just in time Ondine remembered to make a quick curtsey.

  “My Lord Duke, Lady Duchess,” Col said.

  Remembering she wasn’t supposed to speak unless spoken to, Ondine kept quiet and let Old Col do the talking. All the same, fear poured down her spine. She hadn’t had a chance to think about this the day before, but surely professionals in a secure facility should screen the mail, not her great aunt and the man she adored. But she also knew the Duke wanted everything to appear completely normal so that whoever was out to get him would not realise anyone was on to him. Or her.

  Oh dear. Another worry wormed into her brain. Last time they’d met, Hamish had been his Shamble-ferretyness. Now he was a man. Did Kerala even recognise him?

  It was completely bonkers.

  The Duke looked at the three of them and said, “What news, Miss Romano?”

  “We are continuing with investigations, Your Grace,” Col said.

  The Duchess asked, “Have you found anything?” Her eyes not quite as focussed as they should be. Ondine wondered if she’d had a drink or two at lunch?

  “Not yet,” Col said.

  “Shambles, you look well enough,” Pavla said.

  Ondine wished the Duke would call him Hamish when he was in proper Hamish form. It seemed demeaning.

  “Aw yeas, much better thanks, Yer Graces.”

  “Good. I was worried for a moment there. You’re not . . . stuck as a human, are you?”

  Ondine watched the Duchess’s face intently, but her expression betrayed no curiosity at all. How strange.

  “Aw naw, I can change back whenever I need tae.”

  “Then please do so. I do not want people to see you like this. The fewer people know about your presence, the better. When you’re finished with surveillance in the kitchens, I want you to focus on the gardeners and farmers. Make sure the produce is safe. If there is something untoward happening in the food chain, I need to know.”

  The Duke took his Duchess for the rest of their walk.

  Col exhaled with relief the moment they left. “Holiday’s over, we have serious work to do.”

  “Aye,” Hamish said.

  Fear constricted Ondine’s chest. Her breaths came in staggered jumps. “Please, be careful.”

  Hamish tucked a stray lock of hair behind Ondine’s ear and gave her the softest kiss on the tip of her nose. “I wasnae going tae, but now ye’ve said it, I’ll take extra care.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  He kissed her again, this time on the lips and her heart staggered behind her ribs. “Dinnae fuss yerself, although it warms me wee heart tae know yer thinking of me.”

  As he let go of her hand, Ondine shivered. Hamish could be seriously hurt. If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself.

  Chapter Eleven

  As the days went by things settled into something of a pattern for Ondine. Lessons in the morning, half an hour for lunch, then laundry in the afternoon with Draguta. A good amount of Ondine’s work consisted of going through every pocket for snot rags, snuff boxes and stolen silverware, before putting the clothes in the cavernous washing machines.

  I wonder what Hamish is up to, Ondine thought as she pulled out a small key from a jacket’s inside pocket one afternoon. No sooner had this thought formed in her hea
d than the man himself appeared. Except her heart sank, because he was only the ferret of the man.

  “Come here, little fella, the laundry’s no place for you.” What she really wanted to say was, “Oh, Shambles, I’m so glad to see you. Every time I see the post van arrive I can’t stop the panic rising in me.”

  In a blur of dark fur, Shambles raced up Ondine’s side and stood on her shoulder. He gave her a whiskery wet kiss on the cheek. “Aye, lass, I missed ye and I wanted to see how ye were gettin’ on,” he said in a low voice. “The Duke’s goat me checking up on laundry now.”

  Draguta dropped her bundle and stared at them. Gulp, gulped Ondine. Had the laundress heard him? Shambles shifted his weight from left to right. A difficult thing to do considering he had two of each foot, and Ondine’s shoulders were hardly large.[129]

  Draguta found her voice: “No dirty animals here! Out! Now!”

  Relief engulfed Ondine – Draguta had said “animals” not “talking animals”. She hadn’t heard him speak. Their secret was safe. “He’s my aunt’s pet. He’s perfectly harmless. And clean.”

  “No break rules. Duchess strict on that. You get me in trouble when bring animals in here.” Draguta shook her head and picked up the most enormous load of wet washing. The bottom of the basket bowed under the weight, but Draguta didn’t even grunt. Instead, she looked at Shambles with a steady eye and kept her voice stern. “Don’t shed fur on the clean linen.”

  “She’s good value, that one,” Shambles murmured as Ondine got back to work.

  More workers brought clean washing in from the line and then set to the industrial machines, ironing the creases out.

  “Ondine, take to Duchess’s suite,” Draguta said.

  Ondine gathered the neat stacks of freshly laundered sheets and towels. They were so heavy she had to use both hands. There was no room for Shambles, so he had to run along beside her.