by Maggie Hoyt
“Oh, Madam Radcliffe, Miss Envers, it is such an honor to meet the two of you,” Lady Relish gushed. She was tall and spindly, with large round eyes that protruded from her skull.
“You’re too kind,” Fan said with a demure curtsy. Lady Relish simpered. “Won’t you sit down?” Fan said.
“Oh, I must introduce my son, Heribert,” she said, gesturing toward the young man.
He bowed and shook hands and remarked upon how nice it was to meet us. He took after his mother, particularly in regard to the eyeballs.
“I do hope you’re enjoying Strachey,” Fan said, sticking to her script.
“We love Strachey!” Lady Relish said.
Heribert nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a lovely place. We come every summer.”
“Yes, we always come see our friends—do you know the Paynes?”
“Somewhat,” I said. I knew they were richer than ninety percent of Strachey.
“Lord Payne is quite a good friend of my husband’s. We always enjoy coming to see them. They’re just so marvelously elegant. But I can’t imagine what it’s like being the stepsister of a princess!” she said, briefly grasping Fan’s hand. “Have you been to the palace? Is it unbelievable?”
“I haven’t actually been to the palace. They had the wedding here, so …”
“You went to the wedding!”
“Um, yes, I was Ella’s maid of honor.”
“The maid of honor!” Lady Relish looked like she might pass out from excitement.
“Yes … um, it was lovely.”
Lady Relish made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a squeal and fanned herself. Fan was starting to stare, her expression a mix of concern and disbelief. I moved the conversation away from Lady Relish.
“Tell us more about yourself,” I said, turning to Heribert. “What do you do?”
“Ah, I’m a junior partner at Curtis, Easom, and Gibbs. It’s one of the largest shipping magnates in the kingdom. You probably haven’t heard of Norbert Easom,” he said.
“I have, actually. He was one of my late husband’s main competitors.”
Heribert looked surprised, although you could only tell that from his eyebrows. His eyes were permanently surprised.
“Oh! Well, yes, of course. Envers Enterprises. Not as thriving nowadays as it used to be, but still a power player, certainly. Easom’s my mentor. You should see the things he’s done at CEG. Just last year, he discovered a brand-new lane to the East! If you’re as obsessed with jewels from the East as Mother is, I’m your man,” he said.
Lady Relish chuckled and put her hand on Fan’s again. “Now that’s the only part of all this I understand! He goes on and on about work, and I can’t comprehend a word of it.”
“You’re happy as long as I bring you jewelry!”
“And I’m very proud of what my boy has accomplished. Norbert Easom, imagine!” This time, as Lady Relish reached out, Fan instinctively jerked her hands back, so Lady Relish patted Fan’s knee instead.
Fan’s attempt at a polite smile instead looked strained and weary, and it was directed mainly at Lady Relish’s hand. I was smiling falsely, but I was fairly certain it was the one Henry called dangerous. He used to say that whenever he saw it, he’d run away from the blast zone.
It wasn’t just that the two were egregious name-droppers—that wasn’t usually enough to provoke outright hostility from me. No, I was on edge because I smelled a plot. Was Norbert Easom still after my husband’s holdings? Did his overeager little protégé want to impress his mentor with a coup?
My inner voice broke in. It’s not like you to be so defensive over anything about Husband #1, I thought. No, I told myself. This is about Fanchon. And I’m not giving my daughter to someone who considers her a piece in an acquisition that ups his winter bonus.
As I opened my mouth, a part of me warned, Don’t do it, Evelyn, but that voice was accustomed to being ignored.
“So, Heribert,” I started.
“Please, Herb,” he said.
“Herb. What—”
Fanchon’s eyes lit up. “Herb?” she said. He nodded. The corners of her mouth danced. “Herb … Relish …,” she whispered.
Oh no, I thought. She was going to start giggling. I’d have to investigate Easom’s interests later.
“What do the two of you have planned for the rest of the summer?” I asked quickly.
“Oh, we’re hoping to do some riding,” Lady Relish said.
“We’ll be at the garden party, naturally. Will you be there?” he asked Fan, who was in the middle of gulping a deep breath.
“Of course! Everyone goes to the garden party,” she said.
“I certainly hope I get to see you there.”
“Oh!” Lady Relish exclaimed. “We’ll be going to hear Isabella Trembledina sing! Have you heard of her? She’s such a tremendous, world-class opera singer, and she’ll be here in Strachey! My daughter got us tickets—she knows her from school.” Lady Relish merely waved her hand and Fan flinched and rotated her knees toward me, trying to keep them out of Lady Relish’s reach.
“And I’ll be testing my mettle in the gird and cleek tournament,” Heribert said.
“Wait, what?” Fanchon exclaimed, with a sudden broad smile. “Did you just make that up?” She immediately tried to wipe the smile off her face, but the corners of her mouth kept twitching, and her lip had started to quiver.
“Oh,” Herb began, “you probably know it as hoop and stick. True traditionalists, however, use the original, historical name—”
“Hoop and stick?” Fan interrupted. “Like the children rolling their hoops?” She was starting to titter. I put a firm hand on her shoulder, hoping she would calm down. We can laugh at how ridiculous he is later, I thought.
“It is a child’s pastime, but the sport is anything but,” Herb said. “You’ve got your races, plain and simple. Then you’ve got your agility courses. Imagine a sort of winding track, right, and periodically you’ve got pairs of rocks, no more than a few inches apart. Then you, as the athlete, have to roll your hoop through each pair of rocks—we call them gates—without touching either of the rocks.”
“Well!” Fan managed. She was trying to force herself to take deep breaths, but each time a chuckle started to rise to the top, she had to hold her breath until it passed, which made her sound like she was wheezing. I patted her back. Keep it together, sweetheart.
“Then you have my event, the duels.”
“Duels?” Fan said weakly.
“One-on-one, two girders—again, using the historical name—charge at each other, each one using his hoop to try to knock the other fellow’s hoop over. I would say it’s easily as much a mental challenge as a physical spectacle.”
Fan snorted and started, quietly shaking with laughter, but Heribert wasn’t paying attention.
“They sort everyone into brackets and make a giant tournament of it. By the quarterfinals, the matches are pretty intense. They call the whole thing the ‘Battle Royale.’”
Fan lost it. Finally, completely lost it. She shrieked and dissolved into tittering convulsions.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry. Sorry …”
I put my face in my hands.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT DAY, Mina came bouncing into my study. “There’s three cards today!” she exclaimed.
I almost wept. “Thank you, Mina.”
Three visitors? You couldn’t have them all at once, could you? Not if they were all mothers and sons, I was pretty sure. You’d have to have some other girls, and I certainly didn’t want to host a whole luncheon. I’d have to reschedule two of them. That was all right, wasn’t it? I briefly considered asking Roompilda, and then laughed at myself for thinking of it.
I leafed through the cards. A Lady Corbyn and her son. Never heard of them. You probably won’t have heard of any of them, I thought. I’ll have to pick randomly. Close my eyes and point. Or throw darts. Did I have darts somewhere?
I looked at the next card. Oh, forget randomness. Lady Francesca Kingsley and Ethan? Absolutely. The Corbyns were a no. They could come at the beginning of next week. And this last card … I stopped suddenly as I read the name. Hugo Piminder.
Why did he want to visit me? Men didn’t do visits. I could tell him I had to entertain Fan’s visitors, at least. I turned the card over.
Perhaps you would like to join me for dinner tonight? it read.
Dinner. No, no, I wouldn’t like to. I didn’t like him at all. He shared at least one trait with Husband #1: he was sweetly charming to anyone he wanted something from, and utterly awful to those who didn’t matter. I didn’t have to like him just because he was nice to me, not when he’d been so cruel to Clarrie. After all, as I’d learned from Husband #1, as soon as you weren’t useful anymore, you could change categories quite quickly.
I did need to talk to him, however. I had to know how much the Babcocks’ debt was, and most importantly, I needed him to make this a bigger deal. I needed all of Strachey to anticipate the day Clarrie Babcock would spin straw into gold. And the only way I could get him to set parameters would be to speak to him, despite how badly I wanted to ignore him.
I took a deep breath and wrote my responses on the cards. Then I gave them to Mina to deliver and prayed they’d all arrive at the correct destination. Fan should be happy Ethan’s coming today, I thought. Surely, she would have an easier time being “proper” around someone she liked.
I walked by the drawing room where she was having her lesson and put my ear to the door.
“Your spine should be perfectly straight. Imagine a string attached to the top of your head. If someone tugs on it, it will pull you upright. No, that is not straight. If you arch your back, you are simply making your rump look even larger.” I heard Roompilda sigh.
“Now suck in your stomach,” she said.
“Ow. I can’t stand like this.”
“You’ve practiced your atrocious posture for too long. You’ll build up the strength eventually. Shoulders down. Now, we have no interest in seeing your neck, so tuck your chin. It’s more ladylike.”
“My neck feels like it’s on fire.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
No wonder so many women had back problems. Perhaps I’d have to tell Fan not to follow Roompilda’s posture scheme too carefully. What, me, subvert Roompilda’s lessons? Never! Ha.
When they finished, finally relinquishing my sitting room, Roompilda left with no more than a disapproving once-over. Fan sat down and rubbed her neck.
“It’s important to stand up straight, but I don’t think what Roompilda is telling you is good for your spine,” I said.
Fan shrugged miserably. “But I can’t look like I’m a slouch.” She changed the subject before I could argue. “Who do we have coming today?”
“Oh, good news! Ethan and his mother!”
“Really?” Fan’s eyes lit up for a moment, but then she quickly bit her lip in worry. “She sort of terrifies me.”
“Yes, I suspect she aims for that. But at least Ethan isn’t …”
“Weird,” Fan finished.
“Right.” Apparently, the last few days had been so bizarre, Fan could say so without worrying about the fairies. I felt even the nicest fairy would have to admit the last few boys weren’t the top of the lot.
For a few minutes, Fan helped me tidy the living room. Then, when I imagine she hoped enough time had passed, she said nonchalantly, “Do I look all right? I didn’t really put in a lot of effort this morning.”
I hid a smile and said, “I think you look lovely.”
“But you would have to say that. I’ll just go check. I’m not being vain, I just don’t want to embarrass myself,” she added with a quick glance upward, probably for the fairies’ benefit.
“Whatever you want,” I said.
When the Kingsleys arrived, I just tried not to listen to Mina. Fan and I stood up as she led them into the room.
“La—”
“Hthe Hkingsleys, hmadam,” Mina said, sounding a little like she was preparing to spit. Apparently she’d decided to announce our guests.
“Thank you, Mina. That will be all.”
Lady Kingsley raised an eyebrow as Mina flounced out of the room, full of importance. She didn’t comment.
“Evelyn,” she said.
“Lady Kingsley, it’s good to see you,” I replied.
“Didn’t I tell you to call me Francesca? Regardless, you should.”
“Won’t you have a seat?” Fanchon said.
“Fanchon, darling, how are you?” Lady Kingsley said as she sat down. She was a surprisingly small woman, easily mistaken as frail right up until she began speaking.
“I’m doing well, thank you. How are you?”
“Oh, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“Good to see you, Ethan,” I added.
“Thank you, Madam Radcliffe,” Ethan stuttered shyly.
Lady Kingsley swatted him on the arm. “Now see, what did I say about mumbling?”
“Um, how are … you enjoying the Season?” Fan said. Well, she couldn’t ask if they were enjoying Strachey, so she’d flipped it around.
To my surprise—well, to my mind Francesca Kingsley was always a surprise—she gave the biggest eye roll I’d ever seen. I burst out laughing.
“Do you not like it?” Fan asked.
“Come on,” Francesca said to me, “you can’t tell me you’re not annoyed every year.”
I shook my head, still laughing.
“There’s not a single one of those people I want to see,” she said. “And all they do is complain that they can’t have everything they want.”
“But you do always get a lot of donations for your foundation,” Ethan said.
“Yes, well, that is the only good thing to come of the whole extravaganza.”
“Is it really so bad?” Fan asked. “I thought the Courtenays’ party was quite nice. I mean, the balls are all right, aren’t they?”
Francesca sniffed. “I suppose if you’re a young person, they might be fun. But Balser and I are hardly going to go dancing, are we?”
Mortified, Ethan gave Fan a wide-eyed grimace. She stifled a giggle.
“I’m an old woman,” Francesca continued, “so instead of all the fun parts, I’m stuck with the other old women.”
“And the sudden exorbitant prices. If you had to do the shopping, you’d be annoyed, too,” I said to Fan.
“Ugh, it’s obscene!” Francesca exclaimed. “It’s a forty percent markup at least.”
“At least,” I echoed. “Not to mention the traffic.”
“Carriages everywhere! If you’ve got a house at all close to the main road, you don’t get any peace from the hooves.”
“It’s like no one from the Capital has ever heard of walking,” I said.
“I don’t think they have.”
“They cram all those carriages into the city center and then get fussy that the traffic’s not moving!” I said. “It makes me want to scream!”
Francesca nodded. “Seasonal Irritability Disorder. I get it every summer.”
“You’ve hit on one of Mother’s favorite subjects,” Ethan said to Fan, leaning conspiratorially toward her.
“I’m so sorry—” Fan began, leaning in over the table toward him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ethan said with a grin. “She likes to complain,” he whispered loudly.
“I’m just surprised!” Fan said. “I mean, I knew my mom didn’t like it, but …”
“I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” Francesca said. “Don’t want to grouse. There, change the subject.”
There was silence as Fan thought for a moment and then frowned in panic. “Umm … I didn’t really have anything else to talk about!”
“How’s school, Ethan?” I said.
“Oh, I graduated!”
“Congratulations! What are your plans?”
“Well …”
“That’s
what I keep asking,” Francesca said.
“I’ve been looking for jobs, of course.”
“He’s had some good offers in the Capital.”
“That’s excellent. In shipping?”
“Mostly, yeah. I’m not particularly a fan of trading shares. That feels like you’re just selling people packets of air.”
“Often you are,” I said.
“I really like to figure out the best way to get things from place to place. From the people who make them to the people who need them, you know? That’s what—for my final project, I worked out the best way for Mother’s foundation to ship the relief aid to people in other kingdoms.”
From my limited interactions with him, it seemed to me that Ethan Kingsley was an immensely genuine young man. After all, who went to a pretty girl’s house and spoke to her mother about organizing shipping routes? No one putting on an act would choose to be a bit dull.
“Interesting,” I said. “I suppose you’ll be moving to the Capital, then.”
“You’re going to move?” Fan said suddenly, her face falling. “Permanently?”
“I don’t really want to,” he said. “I’d like to find a job in Strachey, but …”
“But there’s not as many opportunities,” Francesca said. “So, we’ll see.”
“I hope you don’t have to move,” Fan said, pouting.
“I hope not either,” he said, and I think I caught him blushing.
We talked for a few more minutes—Fan and Ethan couldn’t seem to think of anything to say, so Francesca and I traded a few Season anecdotes.
“You’ll be at the garden party, won’t you?” Fan asked Ethan as they were leaving.
“Of course,” he said.
“Oh good! I’ll see you there.”
No sooner had I closed the door than Fan spoke up.
“Mom, could I get Ethan a job with Dad’s company?”
“Well, probably, but—”
“Yes! What should I do? Probably write a letter. Do we have stationery?”
“Yes, but hold on, Fan. You—”
“What? He needs a job. I can get him a job!”
“You realize that he’d still have to move to the Capital, right?”
Fan visibly deflated. “Oh.”
