Lady Mary's Muddle (Seven Wishes Book 4)

by Bree Verity

  Lady Mary’s Muddle

  By Bree Verity

  Copyright

  Dedication

  About Bree Verity

  Other Books by Bree Verity

  Chapter One.

  Chapter Two.

  Chapter Three.

  Chapter Four.

  Chapter Five.

  Chapter Six.

  Chapter Seven.

  Chapter Eight.

  Chapter Nine.

  Chapter Ten.

  Chapter Eleven.

  Chapter Twelve.

  Chapter Thirteen.

  Chapter Fourteen.

  Chapter Fifteen.

  Chapter Sixteen.

  Chapter Seventeen.

  Chapter Eighteen.

  Chapter Nineteen.

  Chapter Twenty.

  Chapter Twenty-One.

  Chapter Twenty-Two.

  Author’s Notes

  Want to know when the next Seven Wishes book will be released?

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Bardic Books (Briony Vreedenburgh)

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-6485824-7-2

  Ebook format

  Published by: Bardic Books, 3/2 Christopher Street, Pimpama, Queensland, 4209

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  Dedication

  Dedicated to the coronavirus that cancelled life as we know it, reminded people of the joys of reading, gave us glimpses of what we could see when the air was clean, and showed us just how quickly the earth could recover if there were no humans. If only we would listen.

  .

  About Bree Verity

  Bree grew up on a diet of old movies, tea, crumpets and family values, musicals, dancing and singing. It’s no wonder she writes books – it’s a wonder she ever thought she might do anything else!

  Bree’s muses include her incredibly long-suffering partner (who has to put up with her talking through highly unlikely and probably incredibly boring strands of storyline), and two rescue dogs (who are amazed by her talent. No seriously. You can see it in their eyes.)

  She is Australian born and bred but prefers the city to the rurals. Shopping and coffee instead of snakes and kangaroos, please.

  Bree absolutely adores hearing from her readers, and can be contacted via her website, breeverity.com

  Other Books by Bree Verity

  Seven Wishes series:

  Miss Fenella’s Fault

  Miss Cheswick’s Charm

  Lady Diana’s Disguise

  Revolution and Regency series:

  The Hidden Duchess

  The Misguided Mademoiselle

  The Ruined Lady

  The Scandalous Widow

  Perth Girls series

  Sax in the Park

  For Business and Pleasure

  Troubled by the Texan

  Under the Spotlight

  Bouquet of Love – an Anthology by Serenity Press

  The Pankstone Chronicles – Four Short Regency Stories.

  Chapter One.

  Fenella had been sitting so long in the blindingly white room that her backside had gone numb.

  Being kept waiting made the dark fae fidgety, her indigo eyes igniting with red opal chips at their depths. She ran her hands through her jet-black hair for the umpteenth time, knowing it must resemble a bird’s nest by now. A puff of grey vapour played around her ankles, and behind her shoulders her dragonfly-like wings beat a hurried tattoo against the air.

  Vaguely, she wished she were better at hiding her agitation.

  Less vaguely, she wondered just what she had been called to the governors’ presence for in the first place. And why, if they wanted to see her so urgently, was she still here waiting?

  Thinking back over her last happily ever after, she smiled in satisfaction. Diana and Simon were married, their future happiness assured. Admittedly, it had been an uncomfortable road, and admittedly, Fenella had not helped by disappearing for two days in the middle of the operation. But Fenella was still strongly of the opinion that using her newly understood blackdark magic skills to save a child’s life was more important than meeting the First Imperative – that the happily ever after should take precedence over everything else.

  Her thoughts interrupted by footsteps against the parquetry floor, she looked up and then jumped up from her chair in surprise to find Eldryth, chief governor, bearing down upon her. The elderly she-fae was held in great awe and respect by everyone from the rawest recruit through to the most decorated of professors. She carried herself with an almost regal bearing, could have anyone stammering with a single glare from her ice-blue eyes, but usually emanated warmth and sincerity. Wrapped in her pink mantle, Eldryth was the last person Fenella expected to see.

  “Please, sit,” said Eldryth, taking a seat next to the one Fenella was in, and grimacing as she did.

  “These chairs have always been hard. I must get the maintenance fae to speak to them about it.” Maintenance was full of light fae with a penchant for earth magic. Since the chairs were built from timber, a few light words from the maintenance fae and the various elements that made up the chairs would work together to soften them.

  Unless the elements were uncooperative. That happened sometimes.

  Fenella didn’t comment on the chairs, instead waiting for whatever it was the old she-fae had to tell her. From the look on her face, it wasn’t good news.

  “There’s been lots of discussion about you lately,” Eldryth said. Fenella couldn’t tell whether that was meant as a good thing or a bad thing, so she held her tongue.

  “Several of the governors think we should expel you from the corps.”

  Fenella’s eyes blazed. “On what grounds?” she demanded. Eldryth waved a conciliatory hand.

  “Never mind that now. What matters is that I’ve managed to talk them around, but only with some strict conditions.”

  Slightly mollified, Fenella asked, “What conditions?”

  “First, that you restart your apprenticeship.”

  Fenella jumped up out of her chair. “What? But I’ve already completed three of my seven happily ever afters. That’s not fair.”

  “Fair or not, these are the conditions you must agree to if you wish to remain at the corps.” Eldryth’s voice suddenly held a no-nonsense tone that stopped Fenella in her tracks. She sat back down, though the play of grey smoke around her ankles and her even greyer scowl told of her dislike.

  “You will also be assigned a new mentor.”

  “What?” Truly startled, Fenella jumped up again. “Why?”

  Eldryth’s jaw was tight. “I think you know why.”

  Fenella’s face ignited and she wished the floor would swallow her up. Apprentice fairy godmothers and their mentors were not supposed to fall in love. Yet she and Lachlan had done that very thing, although they had not gone beyond stolen kisses and half-promises.

  Eldryth’s eyes bored into her, and she looked away with a confirming nod.

  “Very well. And not to keep you in suspense, I shall be your new mentor.”

  Fenella’s head snapped back up and
her mouth fell open. “You? But I thought you didn’t mentor apprentices anymore.”

  “You are a special case,” Eldryth proclaimed. “And I wish to keep a closer eye on you.”

  Fenella gulped. This would certainly make hiding her blackdark abilities much more difficult.

  Blackdark was outlawed long ago in Byd Tal’m as an evil and destructive force. But as Fenella discovered each time she learned a little more about the soul magic, it was not inherently evil. It was not even mischievous, like her dark magic. It was benign, moulded by the intent of the soul witch casting it into good or evil.

  Soul witches – she had learned that was what those who practised blackdark were called. But, like the witches in the human world who were persecuted for their apparently black arts, soul witches gained a reputation for being malevolent, and were all but wiped out of fae society a thousand years ago.

  Only, they weren’t wiped out. The blackdark still pulsed in the veins of a few fae, who either hid their skills, or hid themselves so they could secretly develop their skills.

  Nobody at the Fairy Godmother Academy knew she was a soul witch, except Lachlan. He was more than a mentor. He was a confidante, a friend, and almost a lover.

  Her attention returned to Eldryth as the she-fae continued to speak. “I am likely to be far less lenient than Lachlan,” Eldryth was saying. “I do not have the connection with you that you have with him.”

  “It never affected our…” Fenella started to say, but Eldryth hushed her. “It is of no consequence, except in that I shall not be as lenient as Lachlan.”

  “Very well.”

  “And now he is not your mentor, you are free to act upon your desires.” Fenella’s face flamed anew and Eldryth almost grinned. Fenella thought sourly that the old she-fae was enjoying her discomfort.

  Her grin fell away again as Eldryth continued the conditions. “The governors insist that you report back to me every time you return from the human world, and that you will return to Byd Tal’m by sundown at the end of each day. They insist I must be kept very well informed of what you are undertaking.”

  Fenella nodded mutely.

  “That means you will take no action without consultation.”

  “What?”

  “It is the will of the governors.” Eldryth crossed her hands in her lap, her studied neutrality suggesting that she did not agree with the rest of the governors.

  “I’m not some snot-nosed brat fresh out of the academy, you know.” Fenella tried not to get angry, after all it was clear Eldryth was on her side, but she couldn’t help but chafe at the restrictions. They were, frankly, humiliating.

  “I know.”

  “Not being able to exercise free will is going to make this much more difficult.”

  “I understand that. But the governors believe your exercise of free will is what gets you into trouble in the first place.”

  “What, so I’m never going to be able to go and do a happily ever after on my own? I’m always going to need someone checking my actions?”

  This time Eldryth’s smile was weary as if she was dealing with a petulant child. “Of course not. Just for the next seven happily ever afters.”

  Fenella paced around the white room leaving a trail of increasingly dark smoke behind her. “That’s not fair,” she said through clenched teeth, “I’ve delivered three perfectly good happily ever afters.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes.” She whirled to face the elderly fae, fire in her eyes, the smoke now roiling about her ankles. “They may not have been orthodox, but they were delivered. I know what this is.” She nodded, and said, “It’s because I’m dark fae, isn’t it? They can’t fathom a dark fae being a fairy godmother.”

  “Fenella.” Eldryth said her name sharply, standing up as she did so. “Don’t make this a political matter. The reason your apprenticeship is extended is because, in the view of the governors, you have not proved yourself as an effective fairy godmother. But you are being given another chance.”

  Fenella’s eyes fell and all the bluster went out of her. She sat back down, hunched over.

  Eldryth looked down on Fenella. “We will meet in my office tomorrow for a briefing on your next assignment. Don’t fail, Fenella.” Fenella felt the old fae’s hand on her shoulder and glanced up to find the she-fae regarding her kindly. “You can be an asset to this organisation. I have seen what you are capable of.”

  With that she walked away, leaving Fenella feeling even more unsettled by the arrangement. What did Eldryth mean? Was it simply an encouraging statement, or was there something else behind her words?

  Fenella could not tell, and it frustrated her. The chips in her eyes became hotter again, and the grey vapour around her feet darkened even more until it was all but black. She did not like feeling so vulnerable, as if her every move would be examined under the microscope.

  With an angry mutter, she cast the feelings aside and stalked out of the room. She needed to be sharp and focused tomorrow and make no mistakes. Being a fairy godmother was the most important… one of the most important things in the world to her. She couldn’t let her errant feelings get in the way.

  Chapter Two.

  “I do beg your pardon Father,” said Lady Mary faintly. “I must have misheard you.”

  “I said, I have accepted the proposal from Mr. Penny for your hand. Well done girl. A fine gentleman.”

  The sound of Mary’s fork dropping on to her plate with a clang brought all her family’s attention around to her. They usually presented a charming sight, all four of the Duke’s children breakfasting together with their parents. But today, utensils paused above their breakfasts, and they waited in breathless shock, all of them wearing the same wide blue-eyed expression.

  Her mother was the first to find her voice. Pulling a scrap of linen and lace from her bosom, she put it to her lips, then said in a shrill voice, “Did you just say you had accepted a proposal for Mary’s hand from Mr. Penny?” To hear the loathing in her voice, one would think the aforementioned Mr. Penny to be akin to the devil himself.

  Lord Pascoe threw an irritated glance at his wife. “Of course. Have you all gone deaf?” He flicked the edge of his newspaper, and disappeared behind it, apparently oblivious to the silent, horrified questions passing around the room in the eyes of all his offspring.

  Mary urged her mother to continue, opening her eyes wider and gesturing with her chin toward her father. Mama gave a nervous laugh. “There must be some mistake, Duke,” she said, her lace cap quivering over her golden curls. “Mary was set to marry Sir Percival Pound.”

  Eh?” Her father glanced out from behind his paper, his sharp gaze on Mary. “What’s this?”

  Mary glanced down at her untouched plate and found that even looking at food made her a little nauseous. The usual merry tinkling of cutlery that accompanied breakfast had fallen silent. Mary’s sisters and brother waited in anticipation of what would happen next.

  “I favored Sir Percival’s suit, Papa, not Mr. Penny’s.”

  Her father’s brows drew together, and he flicked the corner of his paper, again. “Saw the declaration you sent him myself. All right and proper. He ran straight over here this morning after he received your Valentine, like a love-struck puppy.”

  “I sent him a vinegar Valentine, Papa.” Mary kept her tone modulated, even though panic was starting to build in her breast. “I wanted to depress his pretensions.”

  A vinegar Valentine contained a message of disregard, much different to a proper Valentine which of course included a note of affection. It was the latest in a series of actions Mary had taken to try to induce Mr. Penny to leave her alone.

  “Maybe you addressed the cards incorrectly?”

  Her brother John, resplendently aping Mr. Brummel in his crisp white shirt and high cravat, piped up in his melodious baritone, but today to Mary it sounded as toneless as Mrs. Hedley’s singing at church.

  “And sent Sir Percival’s Valentine to Mr. Penny,” added Louisa
helpfully.

  Mary looked to John and then Louisa, her features wretched with despair. She had suspected as much as soon as her father had mentioned Mr. Penny, but to have two of her siblings confirm her suspicions meant she would have to confront the dreadful truth.

  “Has there been any word at all from… from Sir Percival?” Her tone was timid, tinged with forlorn hope, which her father quashed instantly.

  “Sir Percival Pound you mean? No, not a word,” he said brusquely from behind his paper.

  Because he did not look at her, Mary felt sure her father did not wish to be bothered further about the matter. He was very adept at ignoring things that made him uncomfortable. But Mary had to at least make the attempt. Her future happiness was at stake. She leaned over and placed a hand on his elbow.

  “Papa, you must write to Mr. Penny and tell him that I do not wish to marry him.”

  The newspaper did not move, and time seemed to turn to treacle as Mary waited for his reply. She was sure the ticking of the clock on the wall grew sluggish and deeper, while Mary’s breath came quicker. Ages: no, eons passed while she waited for his answer.

  “I saw the declaration you sent him, Mary,” he finally said mildly without bringing his newspaper down. Mary rather fancied he had stiffened. “How do you suggest I now tell him you have changed your mind?”

  “I have not changed my mind,” Mary insisted. “Rather, an error was made.”

  ‘But it was your error, not mine.”

  “But I cannot approach Mr. Penny. It would be improper.”

  At his chilly silence, she looked to her mother for assistance but her mother, knowing from long experience that Papa was unlikely to rouse himself to action, just shook her head sadly.

  Mary’s heart pattered tumultuously in her chest. With shaking hands, she patted her mouth on the crisp white napkin despite no food having passed her lips, and said to her family with deceptive calm, “I fear I have no further appetite for breakfast. Pray excuse me.”

  Feeling the eyes of her entire family upon her (except for Papa, who remained firmly ensconced behind his paper), Mary made a dignified exit that lasted only until she was out of sight. Then, hoisting up her skirts, she ran like a hoyden to her favorite escape.