“Please, Draguta, don’t be angry with me. I tried to help. Really, I did,” she pleaded.
“Should have kept mouth shut.”
Apologies were getting her nowhere. “The way I see it, the Duchess would have sacked you anyway. I know you’re angry with her, but don’t take it out on me!”
“Of course, is all about you!” Draguta hefted her suitcase and made for the doorway. “One day I come to your restaurant. I be big shot. I order best of everything. Then I puke all over floor!” With that, she stormed down the hall towards the servants’ entrance.
Ondine dissolved into a flood of tears.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ondine slipped away from the dress rehearsal for the pageant. Col had rallied in the past hour so she brought her a bowl of comfort food – mashed potato and gravy.
“I was poisoned,” Col said to Ondine. “I’m entitled to feel sorry for myself.”
“Have you thought of a way to warn the Duke?” Ondine asked.
“No.” Old Col shook her head. “And the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced he can see no wrong in the Duchess. We’re going to need irrefutable proof before he’ll believe us.”
Ondine felt frustrated. “But there’s no time for that! We just have to explain and hope he’ll listen.” She reached for the box of charcoal pellets and shook ten of them into her palm. They left smudgy grey marks on her skin.
“Yes, yes.” Old Col grabbed a glass of water, popped one pellet in her mouth and drained half the glass in one gulp. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I don’t see why I have to –”
“– The doctor said this is the best treatment for this sort of thing. In your case, prevention is better than cure.”
“Is Hamish all right?”
“Fit as a mountain goat. Lucky devil.”
“Where is he?”
“Working in the kitchens, as a waiter. He’s doing his best to find out the source of the food poisoning since it’s not just me who’s ill.”
Ondine gagged as she tried to get the tiny pellet down her throat. It seemed to grow in size the closer it got to the back of her tongue. Would it go down or come flying back out?
“You’re a good girl, taking care of me,” Col said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much as I should have. And I haven’t been nearly as good a chaperone as I promised your mother I’d be.”
“That’s OK, Aunt Col, you’ve had a lot to worry about.” Ondine was quite glad her great-aunt had been so busy. Otherwise she would have had even less time with Hamish.
Col gave a knowing chuckle. “Are you nervous about the pageant tonight?”
Ondine grimaced. “No, just very embarrassed.”
“Well, don’t be. The Cabbage is a very important part. I’m sure you’ll get a big cheer.”
THAT NIGHT ONDINE TOOK her place on the stage in the darkened wings, beside her fellow cast members. She sent a silent prayer of thanks that the play would be over in a few minutes.
A quick peek through the gap in the curtain revealed a packed ballroom. People were wearing the most amazing costumes. Grand ball gowns. High wigs with feathers. Baroque pantaloons. And that was just the men! Amongst the wide skirts were women dressed as monsters, sailors and soldiers. Vincent was in attendance, wearing an army uniform. There were also at least two dozen witches. Not classic movie-witches with long black skirts and pointy hats. These were true Brugel witches, who wore earth-coloured tunics with thick trousers and heavy travelling cloaks. On their backs they carried multi-pocketed backpacks. The rest of the costume consisted of warm hats with ear-flaps and on their feet, strong boots. Clothing designed for travel on foot or horseback, not broomsticks.
Sure it was Halloween, but how unoriginal that so many women dressed as witches, Perhaps there was a special deal at the costume shop?
Even Aunt Col had come as a witch. Judging by the way she virtually inhaled every passing canapé, she’d made a full and, quite frankly, remarkable recovery from her illness and was back to tasting every morsel of food before the Duke had any of it.
How Ondine wished this night would be over soon. Butterflies flipped in her belly at the thought of going on stage in front of so many people. She took a few deep breaths and steadied her nerves. That’s when she heard two female voices, growing nearer. One of them sounded like Old Col, the other voice she didn’t know. They were muttering something, trying to keep it private, but Ondine couldn’t help straining her ears.
I shouldn’t. But I am here to spy, she thought, as she took a step back and listened as hard as she could.
“. . . need to move CovenCon to Brugel, this is where the weird magic is,” Col said.
“Agreed,” the other woman said. “... feels like epicentre . . . so strange.”
“Doesn’t begin to cover it.”
“. . . Growing stronger.”
“You feel it too?” Col asked.
“Oh yes. It’s this ballroom. Has anything strange happened here?”
Ondine couldn’t help rolling her eyes. This ballroom was where Old Col had first turned Hamish into a ferret. It didn’t surprise her that it could be a centre of strange magic.
“So strong,” Old Col said.
Just as Ondine thought, gee her voice sounds close, her great-aunt stepped around the corner. Followed by the other woman. And Ondine found herself staring into the glistening round eyes of Brugel’s First Minister!
Gulp!
No words came out. The two women – both dressed as witches – stared at her, boring holes right through her. Well, she had just been sprung listening to them. And she must look an absolute sight in her Cabbage costume. Any nerves she’d had about going on stage were now completely overtaken by fear of what her great-aunt might do to her.
“It’s her!” The First Minister said, her mouth dropping open in a most unparliamentary way.
Ondine looked behind her, but saw only the boy cast members. She turned around again. The First Minister kept staring right through her.
“Me?” Ondine felt sick right down to her frilly green socks.
“Yes, you! You’re doing all this,” the First Minister said.
“I rather think she is,” Old Col said, making Ondine feel even more confused. Her great-aunt knew she didn’t have any magic. Maybe she was just going along with it, like the time she’d made Ondine read the Duchess’s palms?
Another gulp. “I haven’t done anything.”
“It is you.” The First Minister was beginning to creep Ondine right out. “There is something about you. You have the strangest magic, it’s seeping out of your pores. You don’t even realise, do you? You’re like a sieve.”
“But I’m . . .” Ondine didn’t know what she was, only that she didn’t understand a word of what the First Minister was saying. Maybe she’d been at the plütz?
“You’re due on stage, there’s a girl,” Col said. “Better get to it.”
Head swirling in confusion, Ondine felt only too glad to take her leave. She found her position on stage behind the lowered curtain and tried to think straight. There was no argument that the palechia was full of strange things, but they weren’t her fault. She hadn’t made Pyotr psychic, or taught the children and Ms Kyryl to sing. Or caused the fish to fall out of the sky. Had she? Her great aunt must have been trying to impress the First Minister, that’s all. Yes, that sounded completely reasonable and believable.
A hush fell as the curtain parted and Ms Kyryl walked to the centre of the stage, to make the opening announcement. “Your Graces the Duke and Duchess of Brugel, Madam First Minister . . .”
Glancing about the crowded room, Ondine saw the First Minister take her seat.
“ . . . distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Harvest and Halloween Ball at the palechia. As is traditional, the night begins with the children’s pageant. Without further ado, I present to you the Palechia School children.”
Ondine quickly crouched into position and waite
d for her cue. All thoughts fled, including what she was supposed to be doing up there. A huge roar of applause filled the room as the curtain parted to reveal their colourful, cardboard set. Suddenly she didn’t feel so bad. She could get through this!
Farmer One and Farmer Two strolled on to the stage with their tools. The crowd broke into applause.
“Our months of toil will soon be rewarded,” Farmer One said as she hefted her cardboard hoe over her shoulder.
“That is true,” Farmer Two said, enunciating clearly. “In fact, you could say our labours will soon bear fruit.”
The audience roared with laughter and cheered. Mercury’s wings, what an easy crowd!
“Here is the apple, so sweet and ripe,” Farmer One said.
The boy playing Apple spun around and twisted himself from the branch of a cardboard tree, as if the farmers had just picked him. The audience broke into fresh applause.
Farmer Two moved over to the vegetable patch. “And here is the Turnip, here is the Cabbage!”
Andreas stood up and said, “I am Turnip,” then gave a bow.
That was Ondine’s cue to stand up and deliver her line, “I am Cabbage.” As she leant forward to take her bow, her skirts flew up in the air behind her. The audience roared with laughter as Andreas the Turnip peeked behind Ondine and pretended to be shocked. Just as they’d rehearsed it.
As she did a little twirl, she cast a look at Sun and made a sweeping gesture with her hand. Cue Sun stepping sideways offstage.
“Oh no, we still have much work to do, but the sun is leaving us,” Farmer Two said.
“It will soon grow dark,” Farmer One said.
“The light is here,” a voice said from offstage. Hetty, dressed in her silvery lunar costume, shimmied into position. “I am Harvest Moon. I will help you.”
The crowd went crazy. Ondine couldn’t get over what an enthusiastic audience they had. Making her way backstage as the play moved into the final scenes, Ondine found Hamish waiting for her.
“Lass, ye were great up there,” he said, smiling at her.
Ondine shrugged away the compliment, too distracted by Hamish looking so gloriously dashing in his waiter’s outfit.
“Ye did well tonight, lass,” he said, stealing a quick kiss that made her feel beautiful despite her frumpy costume. “Here, I grabbed some food from the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” Ondine said as she took a pastry. “Oooh, these look nice, what’s in them?”
Hamish shrugged. “Silver beet and feta. Well, it might be spinach, or it might be rhubarb leaves.”
Ondine nearly choked. “Rhubarb leaves? You’re kidding?”
Confusion swamped Hamish’s face. “No, I’m not. I heard the Duchess tell them tae do it, tae save money, like.”
“No way!”
“Sure. She told them to stop wasting food and use potato skins in the soup, rhubarb and celery leaves in the pastries. They’ve been following her orders ever since.”
Ondine’s body grew cold all over and she put the pastry back on Hamish’s plate. “Rhubarb leaves are toxic!”
“They are? But . . . the food’s full of them! It’s the Duke’s favourite snack!”
Ondine stared at the plate of pastries, each one a neat rectangle of tasty death. Instantly her memory reeled back to the time Old Col had upturned the teacup on the train and declared, That’s not a carriage, dear, it’s a coffin. What a shame, that means somebody’s going to die.
“Great Pluto’s ghost!” Ondine gasped. “Col didn’t get sick in Slaegal, she was poisoned right here. Throw these in the bin. We have to stop people eating them.”
Ondine charged into the ballroom and ran directly towards the Duke. He was dressed as a Baroque dandy with a gold cane. She nearly lost her footing as her voluminous skirts buffeted the shocked guests.
The Duke looked pale as he leaned on his cane. In his other hand, he had a pastry.
“No!” Ondine screamed as she ran. “Don’t eat the green ones!” All the while she kept begging, He can’t die. The tea leaves can’t come true!
The Duke’s mouth fell open, his eyes became round and frightened at the sight of the human cabbage hurtling his way.
“They’re killing you!” Ondine yelled as she launched herself towards the Duke. Everyone in the room gasped as she became airborne. She whacked the pastry out of the Duke’s hand and managed to knock over a waiter with a tray of food at the same time.
Oooof! She landed with a thud in a shower of hors d’oeuvres.
“What is the meaning of this?” The Duke looked ready to explode.
Before she could censor herself, Ondine cried, “Please, Your Grace, you mustn’t eat the food. It’s got toxic rhubarb leaves in it. It’s the Duchess’s fault, she told the chefs to do it.”
“How dare you!” the Duke thundered.
Oh no! Ondine had completely forgotten about the Duke not wanting to hear anything bad about his wife. But this time it couldn’t be helped. If the Duke wanted to survive, he had to listen. Which meant Ondine had to draw every last skerrick of courage and tell him what she knew.
“Please, Your Grace, rhubarb leaves are poisonous. That’s why you’ve been so sick. That’s why Old Col got sick too. The Duchess told the kitchen staff to use them in the food and she knew the pastries were your favourite!”
“But –” the Duke started.
“I did noshing of the short!” Duchess Kerala strode towards them, glass of red wine in hand. She’d come dressed as a soldier, like her son, and the scowl on her face really made her look the part.
By this time, Hamish and Old Col had caught up with Ondine.
“Yes, you did!” Ondine’s voice trembled as she faced down the Duchess. The entire room went quiet and she felt sick with fear. “Hamish overheard you, didn’t you, Hamish?”
Everyone looked at Hamish.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ondine saw the Infanta, dressed as a 1920s movie starlet. The Infanta looked at Ondine and slowly shook her head. As if to say, Now you will see. Hamish will let you down.[170]
The room was full of people, but it was so quiet Ondine could hear Hamish shifting his weight in his new shoes. All the while she kept hoping, No, he won’t let me down. I know it.
Time stretched to the point of snapping.
Silently, Ondine prayed, Oh Hamish, please say something.
“Aye, that’s right,” Hamish said.
Relief washed over Ondine at those three words. She couldn’t help smiling as he continued; every word from his lips strengthened her claim.
“I saw ye tear strips off the kitchen staff for wasting food,” he said to the Duchess.
“You’re lying,” she answered, taking another sip of wine.
Palpable tension rippled through the room.
“Mebbe if ye didnae drink so much, ye might remember,” Hamish said.
The crowd gasped at the massive breach of protocol.
Jupiter’s moons, but things were getting ugly! Yet at that moment Ondine had never felt more proud of Hamish.
The Duchess looked angry enough to shoot darts out of her eyes. “You have no right.”
A lesser person would have withered under the Duchess’s glare. Everyone stared at Hamish, most of them probably wondering who he was and how he had the nerve to say such things to the Duchess.
“He has every right.” The Infanta stepped forward, and if Ondine didn’t know better, she could have sworn Anathea was smiling. “If your drunken behaviour has put the Duke’s health at risk, then this man is doing the right thing.”
“You would shay that,” the Duchess said.
Ondine cast a quick look around the worried room. She caught Old Col’s glance and noticed her great-aunt staring daggers at the Duchess. “You will speak the truth!” Old Col commanded.
The Duchess made a strange sound in the back of her throat and clamped her teeth together, refusing to speak. In the crowd behind Old Col, Ondine saw a lot of the witchy women huddling together, discussing t
hings in murmured tones. She suddenly wondered if they were not pretending to be witches, but were real witches in real life.
“I don’t feel so well,” the Duke said, turning pale. Everyone gasped. Ondine thought they were all being pathetic and cowardly.
“Well, don’t just stand around,” she cried. “Someone get a doctor!”
The Duke slumped into Ondine’s arms. He was so heavy, she couldn’t hold him up. They fell to the floor in a flumph of green cabbage skirts.
Luckily for the Duke, there were three doctors in attendance at the Harvest Ball, one dressed as a ballerina, one as a lizard monster and the third as another witch. They laid him on a chaise longue in one of the libraries.
“It’s kidney stones,” the doctor dressed as a witch said. She was the one who’d treated Old Col and the Duke earlier. She made the Duke swallow a tablet the size of his thumb. “If what you say is true, and he’s been eating rhubarb leaves, then he’s lucky to be alive.”
Ondine breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, my dear darling,” the Duchess said, smothering her husband’s forehead with kisses.
The Duchess’s words didn’t ring true to Ondine. She looked at Hamish and he looked at her. While everyone else fussed over the Duke, Ondine and Hamish snuck out of the room.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Ondine knew that voice. Oh, why did Vincent have to turn up now? He stood right in front of them, blocking their path.
Squee! “It’s you!” cried another voice that Ondine knew.
Brilliant! It was Hetty, and she’d just walked around the corner in her shimmery moon costume.
“Sorry, Hetty, you have to take one for Brugel,” Hamish said. Quick as a flash, he grabbed her and threw her in Vincent’s path. There were grunts of frustration (from Vincent) and shrieks of glee (from Hetty) as she smothered her idol in kisses.
“Nice one!” Ondine said as she and Hamish charged the rest of the way to the Duchess’s rooms.
Her cabbage costume was so wide she knocked things over. They had to stop for a moment as Hamish helped pull the material over her head. She felt stupid standing there in a green polo neck and tights, but it was agility she required, not the latest fashion. Together they negotiated all the polished breakables.
The Ondine Collection Page 34
