‘Delighted,’ Miss Matice said, extending her bony hand to Ondine. ‘Please, call me Draguta, we friends now, yes?’
‘Y-yes.’ With a mental hiccup, Ondine shook hands and tried to keep a straight face. Honestly, what kind of parents burdened their kid with such a horrible name? An uncharitable thought arrived – maybe she’d been a really ugly baby.
‘Bye, then,’ Hamish said, giving Ondine a lopsided smile.
She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him silly, but that would not go down so well with her new employer. And she really needed to make a good impression so they would see how useful she was and allow her to stay.
With a small wave, she bid him farewell and made ready to face up to her new job.22 Pyotr, Old Col and Hamish turned and walked away.
‘Start with baskets. Is about to rain, get washing off line,’ Draguta said in her strangely clipped style of talking. Ondine wondered if perhaps Brugelish was her second language.
Through the open doorway, Ondine looked out at the courtyard and saw a small team of workers removing washing from the line. She walked out and reached up to the first peg.
Something wet and smelly slapped her hand.
Urgh! It was a fish! A woman next to Ondine screamed and came running inside, dropping her basket of laundry in the process. ‘It’s raining fish!’
Plop! Flop! Splat!
Like some bizarre dream, fish fell all around her, landing with wet spluds on her head and shoulders and the ground. Some of them kept wriggling and flipping. And oh, the putrid smell!
Argh! Horrified, yet compelled to stay on task, Ondine grabbed the washing from the line and threw it into the basket. Wet projectiles kept hammering her. Ooof, her head. Ouch, her shoulder. Biff, her face.
All around people were screaming and crying and huddling under the eaves to get away from the hideous rain.
Ondine picked up her laundry basket and charged inside.
‘Where is laundry?’ Draguta demanded.
Looking down, Ondine gasped. Her basket was full of fish. ‘It must be underneath!’
‘Is crazy! Crazy!’ Draguta threw her hands up in the air in frustration. ‘Will have to wash all over again!’
‘Or, looking on the bright side, I’ve caught us dinner,’ Ondine said.
‘Ha! I like you!’ Draguta slapped her on the back. ‘Now, get rid of fish and get washing. Here, take basket and sort for colours.’ In the next breath, Draguta caught the attention of another laundry worker and told her to take all the fish to the kitchens.
Feeling bewildered by the strange turn of events, Ondine could only shrug and get to work, sorting clothes. Draguta tended to an industrial-sized machine that had just finished spinning. Not for the first time, Ondine wondered whether she would ever get used to calling Draguta by that harsh name. Strong veins popped out on Draguta’s sinewy arms as she pulled wet bath sheets and towelling robes from the machine. At the same time, another laundress moved towards a small door set into the wall. Dirty clothes spilled on to the floor.
‘A laundry chute! That’s cool,’ Ondine said.
‘Not nearly,’ Draguta said. ‘They be lords and ladies, but live like slobs. They put down chutes in one day what regular people use in week. Get used to it.’
‘Draguta, do you have a middle name?’ Ondine asked as she separated the dirty clothes into their respective piles.
The laundry mistress’s face turned to a scowl. ‘Elena. Named after grandmother, may she rot in hell!’ Draguta turned to her right and spat on the floor.
A slither of fear slid up Ondine’s spine and she mentally ruled out ever mentioning the name Elena again.
Should she try another tack? Why not. ‘Do you have a nickname?’
‘No.’
Ondine gulped. ‘Well . . . most people call me Ondi for short, so feel free to call me that, I don’t mind.’
‘My name is Draguta. Is strong name.’ Draguta hefted a basket of wet washing on to where her hips would be if she had a gram of fat on her. A strong name for a strong woman.
It took two workers to heft each of the remaining baskets of washing out to the courtyard, where the rain had stopped just as fast as it began. Draguta managed a whole basket on her own. Ondine stayed inside, sorting the remaining dirty clothes.
‘You need to go through pockets,’ Draguta instructed, as she came back into the laundry. ‘They filthy, leave tissues behind. Lost count of times to rewash dark trousers because of shredded tissue. Don’t be shy, shove hand in there. Ferret around.’
Ferret?
Panic surged through Ondine. ‘Jupiter’s moons! Ferret!’
21 ‘Seneschal’ is a fancy name for ‘housemaster’, which is a very important job. The seneschal answers directly to the Duke and therefore wields enormous influence over the rest of the staff. Pick a fight with the seneschal and you’d better start looking for a new job.
22 Which was remarkably similar to her old job. You may have noticed it was a Sunday afternoon and there were people working. Just like hotels, weekends are the busiest times at the palechia, so laundry staff take their weekends on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
Ondine’s timetable looked like this:
Chapter Five
How far had Hamish gone? What if he transformed into a ferret in front of the seneschal?
‘I have to go!’ Ondine shot up, knocking over a pile of silk blouses. Charging down the hallway, she yelled out, ‘Hamish, wait!’
On she ran, hoping she wasn’t too late. All that time on the train and they hadn’t spent one moment discussing how they were going to manage Hamish’s . . . issue. They had been together so much during summer, she’d become used to him being human whenever she was around. What if he’d lost the ability to control his transformations? A familiar groan of pain and a filthy Celtic curse carried up the hall. Ondine’s vision blurred as tears threatened to leak out. Skittering around the corner, she saw Shambles the ferret lying on the floor. Clothes everywhere. Old Col cast Ondine a dark look, as if this were all her fault. Pyotr merely cocked one eyebrow and swallowed, waiting for an explanation. Ondine herself struggled to find a reason.
For a moment she opened and shut her mouth, but nothing came out. Pyotr had just witnessed a terrifying weather event and now a man turning into a ferret. She wondered if she should tell him about the fish rain? It would be a lot to take in. Dread crawled through her body. She didn’t have to be psychic to know they were in serious trouble if she didn’t think of something quickly.
The something she thought of was: ‘You’ve never seen a man turn into a ferret before?’
‘Can’t say that I have.’ Pyotr scratched his temple.
‘You have now,’ Ondine ploughed on. ‘You can see what a great asset he’ll be to the Duke. After all, Shambles is the one who foiled the assassination attempt against him. The Duke wouldn’t even be here if not for him. That’s why he offered him a job, because he saved his life. And if Duke Pavla goes under, Lord Vincent would take control, and who wants that?’
‘Thank you, yes.’ Pyotr nodded slowly, closing his eyes as he did so, indicating he’d heard – and possibly seen – quite enough.
‘If ye could all turn around for a wee bit, I need tae straighten meself out,’ Shambles said, wincing as he budged and fudged his way into a sitting position to become humanly Hamish again. Ondine felt a fresh pang of longing for him. He looked like he was in so much pain.
They turned their backs to give him privacy.
‘I have seen many things in my years . . .’ Pyotr started.
Ondine waited for him to finish his sentence, but after a few breathy pauses with nothing between them, she realised he wouldn’t.
‘Great Aunt Col did it to him, in the ballroom here at the palechia. Years ago when she made her debut.’ Ondine turned to see how the seneschal was taking it. A flicker on Pyotr’s face, a raised eyebrow, then his features were back in place, as if they were discussing nothing more than the weather.
With a small cough Old Col said, ‘You are the epitome of discretion, sir, and we are in your debt.’
Once he had his trousers on the right way, Hamish stood up. He sat down again straight away and looked a bit woozy.
Ondine knelt beside him and put her hand on his shoulder, ‘You’re hurting.’
‘Naw lass, I’ll be fine.’
She didn’t buy it, and gave him a tender kiss on the forehead to salve the pain.
Pyotr spoke up. ‘I think it would be best if he returned to his animal form.’
‘But –’ Ondine started.
Pyotr said, ‘As much as it appears to pain him, I believe the Duke would prefer him to remain a ferret.’
‘Dinnae fuss, it will just be for a wee while,’ Hamish said.
Ondine began to fret. They were at the Duke’s palechia because they wanted to be together. But the Duke only wanted the ferrety Shambles side of Hamish. It hurt to know the only way they could be together was to be apart.
Ondine flung her arms around Hamish’s neck and hugged him, hard. ‘We’ll work something out,’ she said, and kissed him again.
Pain lanced Ondine as she watched him revert to his animal form, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain he must be feeling.
Pyotr said, ‘By the way, what is that smell?’
‘It’s trout,’ Ondine said. ‘Lots of them fell from the sky as we took in the laundry.’
Pyotr stopped and stared at Ondine. ‘Do you mean to say it has just rained fish?’
‘Yes, sir. But we’ve cleaned most of it up.’
‘Just a moment,’ he said as two men walked down the hall towards them. Pyotr asked them to remove any stray fish from the lawns, trees and rooftops. ‘And see that you clean out any debris that may have fallen through the school roof.’ They looked startled.
‘I meant what I said,’ Pyotr added, dismissing the workmen. He returned his gaze to Col, Shambles and Ondine, his face showing no sign that he’d asked the workers to perform anything out of the ordinary. ‘Come this way. The Duke does not like to be kept waiting.’
Chapter Six
‘Delighted to see you!’ Duke Pavla said as he took Old Col’s hand in his. They were standing in his gleaming study. The leather chairs looked so shiny Ondine thought she’d slide right off them. Not that she had permission to sit down yet. The Duke – and the Duchess Kerala was here too – hadn’t invited them to do so.
The Duke looked the same as he always did – dressed in an expensive, dark suit, his hair swept back from his widow’s peak. His high-maintenance split moustache looked so neat it might have been stencilled on. ‘Dare I say you have arrived just in time. Somebody tried to poison me with seafood,’ he said.
‘My Lord Duke, you have no cause for alarm. Falling fish are a natural phenomenon, caused by the twister turning into a waterspout over the lake,’ Old Col said. Then she added, ‘Although it was a startling event.’
For a palpable few seconds Duke Pavla stared at her as if she had said something really strange. Well, she had.
‘Falling fish?’
‘As a result of the twister, Your Grace.’
It took him a few moments to compose himself. ‘I was referring to earlier events at the fish markets,’ he said.
Now Ondine was really confused.
With a wave of his hand the Duke invited them to sit. He also dismissed Pyotr, so it was just the five of them in the room. Ondine did her best not to fidget. To her dismay, Shambles climbed on to Col’s shoulder, not hers.
The Duke sat behind his desk. The Duchess remained standing behind him. She looked immaculate, as only the seriously rich can. Perfectly applied make-up, shiny mahogany hair, a tailored suit that complimented her hourglass frame and soft dainty hands. She wore an imperious look on her face, a mixture of revulsion and concern. Obviously not a small-animal lover. It was hard to explain why, but Ondine had the feeling the Duchess was one of those people who preferred her animals without a pulse.
‘This is too much of a coincidence. You’ve heard about what happened at the fish markets yesterday?’
Old Col coughed softly. ‘No, Your Grace.’
The Duke looked bewildered. Ondine felt incredibly uncomfortable. Surely at some point things would start making sense. Wouldn’t they?
The Duchess placed a comforting hand on Pavla’s shoulder.
‘I was due to open the new sushi bar,’ Pavla said. ‘They would have made me eat the stuff, too. A good thing I changed my schedule. I sent my dear wife to the markets in my place. They had a listeria outbreak but thank the stars she was unharmed. If anything had happened to you, my love . . .’ his voice trailed off as their eyes locked.
A pang gripped Ondine. They looked so very much in love. Would she and Hamish ever have that? Impossible if he remained a Shambles-ferret.
‘I’m fine. I have an iron constitution,’ the Duchess said.
‘I can’t help thinking someone has cursed me. Yesterday bad food. Today a twister, now you’re saying there was fish rain? If this is the result of dark magic, I’m glad to have you as an ally, Miss Romano,’ the Duke said. He turned to Shambles, who was still on Old Col’s shoulder. ‘And you, Shambles, I can see you will be a valuable asset.’
‘Aye. Ready, willing and able. Where would ye like me tae start?’ Shambles said.
‘I think you should begin with the most obvious. The kitchens,’ the Duke said. ‘Watch them closely for the next week and report anything unusual directly back to me.’
‘Or me. If the Duke is unavailable,’ Kerala added.
‘Yes, good idea, my love.’
The Duke still hadn’t addressed Ondine, which made her feel insignificant. Then again, maybe if he ignored her, she could slip under the radar? If he didn’t directly send her home, did it mean she could stay?23
Unexpectedly, the Duke winked at Shambles, which was not endearing. If anything, Ondine felt even more unsettled.
The Duke moved towards a pile of letters, picked up a gold paper knife and began slicing the envelopes open. He talked the whole time, reading one thing while discussing another. Meanwhile, the Duchess walked over to a side table and poured herself a glass of wine.
The Duke opened the next envelope. Brown powder fell from the papers it contained.
Poison?
‘Get back!’ Shambles yelled. ‘Dinnae breathe it in!’
The Duke coughed and reeled away in shock. Instinctively Ondine grabbed a rose bowl off the side table, tipped the flowers on to the floor, then slapped the upturned bowl over the envelope and powder.
The Duchess’s mouth fell open as she stood in mute shock. Her eyebrows shot up and stayed there.
Inside the bowl water dripped on to the powder, turning it into a dark brown liquid that oozed across the desk.
‘What is it?’ the Duke said.
Confusion made Ondine feel dizzy. ‘Looks like coffee,’ she suggested.
‘We don’t know that for sure,’ Col said.
‘I feel so terribly foolish,’ the Duke said, wiping his brow.
Perhaps they’d all overreacted. What a mess Ondine had made of the Duke’s study.
The brown liquid stopped oozing and started sinking into the table, eating right through the veneer.
‘Not so foolish after all,’ Col said. ‘It’s some kind of acid.’
‘Who sent it?’ Shambles asked.
‘There is no return address on the envelope,’ Col said, picking it up. ‘Your Grace, call the police, this needs to be tested.’
‘Wait,’ the Duchess said, stepping closer to the table. ‘Let me see it.’
Great Aunt Col handed the envelope to the Duchess, who held it up to the light as if she might make out something the others had missed. ‘The stamp has not been franked, so we do not know from which sorting office it came. Maybe if I try this . . .’ She took out a pack of matches from her handbag and lit one, holding it beneath the envelope. ‘Saw it in a movie once, there was a secret message written in – ouch
!’ The envelope caught fire and she dropped it hastily.
‘Are you all right, my love?’ Pavla rushed to his wife’s side and checked her hand. ‘You’ll need a cold compress.’
As the burning envelope fluttered to the ground, Shambles raced down Col’s shoulder and stomped his paws on the glowing paper. ‘Weil, there goes that,’ he said.
‘I was trying to help,’ Kerala said.
The Duke’s skin turned grey. He took a small breath, then adjusted his tie. ‘Colette, you and Shambles – and Ondine, it seems – have arrived just in time. I want you to be my eyes and ears here in the palechia. From now on you will open all my correspondence. If there is no return address, incinerate it immediately.’
Uneasiness morphed into dismay in Ondine. When she’d set out with Hamish, she’d had visions of being with him and having a great time. Not for a moment did she think they’d have to work that hard. Not harder than she already did at her parents’ pub in Venzelemma. Now she felt as if they were responsible for the Duke’s very survival. And she didn’t have a clue how they would do that.
‘You wouldn’t credit it, but I used to think I was paranoid,’ Pavla said. ‘However, I have come to accept that somebody really is out to get me. As much as Vincent knows he will one day succeed me, he is far from ready. As they say, “Fate chooses our relatives, we choose our friends”.’24
The mention of Vincent’s name sent fresh ripples of worry through Ondine. Lord Vincent was the Duke’s teenage son and heir, but he was also a total prat and had tried to bring on his father’s heart problems so he could inherit the title ahead of time. At least he was now in a military academy fifty kilometres away and couldn’t do anything directly. But what if he had spies in the palace?
‘Your safety and continuing good health are my paramount concern,’ Old Col said to the Duke.
‘Ondine.’ Duke Pavla turned his full attention to her. Worry filled her stomach with concrete. ‘I appreciate your swift action, but you are so young. You should be with your parents.’
The Autumn Palace Page 3
