Magician's Ward Read online

  The entry hall was full of people, boxes, and trunks. At the bottom of one of the piles of luggage, a large wicker cage lay on its side, its door open wide. Several disheveled footmen and an elderly, bright-eyed man in a coachman's many-caped cloak were scrambling over boxes and trunks toward the stairs; in the far corner, one of the housemaids was having hysterics. In the center of the commotion stood a tiny doll of a woman, looking upward with anxious hazel eyes. Her brown hair, where it curled out from under an exceedingly elegant wide-brimmed hat, was liberally streaked with grey. When she saw the monkey in Kim's arms, her worried expression broke into a cheerful smile that was the mirror of Mairelon's.

  "Ah, you have captured Maximillian! Thank you very much. Would you be so kind as to bring him here and restore him to his cage? It is by far the simplest thing, when he is so nervous and upset. I am afraid he dislikes traveling."

  Willingly, Kim made her way to the foot of the stairs and deposited the monkey in the wicker cage, which one of the footmen had hastily righted. The woman secured the latch with a small padlock and said to the footman, "Now, take him up to the library, and be sure to put the cage in a corner where it will not be overturned again. I will bring him water and a bit of fruit presently, when he is more settled." She turned to Kim. "You must be my son's ward, Kim. I am so pleased to meet you at last. I am Lady Wendall."

  Kim stared, her brain scrambling in several directions at once. Lady? Her son's ward? This is Mairelon's mother, and she's a Lady Wendall? Feeling a strong sense of ill-usage, she belatedly bobbed a curtsey. Somebody ought to have warned me!

  As she straightened, she found herself being critically examined by the diminutive new arrival. "I thought so," Lady Wendall said cryptically after a moment. "My dear, who has--"

  A door down the hall opened. "Whatever is going on?" Mrs. Lowe said as she came out into the hall, and then, in thunderstruck tones, "Elizabeth?"

  "Good morning, Agatha," Lady Wendall said. "I should think that what is going on is obvious; the footmen are moving my trunks in."

  "What . . . how . . . why wasn't I informed?"

  "I told them not to disturb your breakfast." Lady Wendall nodded at the footmen, then favored Mrs. Lowe with a charming smile. "Speaking of breakfast, I am positively famished; these early hours are not what I am accustomed to. Do join me, and we shall talk while we eat."

  With that, Lady Wendall swept past Mrs. Lowe into the dining room. Mrs. Lowe pursed her lips as if she had bitten into a bad orange, glared at the footmen, and went after Lady Wendall. Kim hesitated; they might not want her to join them. But neither of them had said anything, and the temptation was irresistible. She followed them in.

  Lady Wendall had gone straight to the sideboard and was shaking her head over the dishes as she lifted the covers. Mrs. Lowe watched for a moment, her face a politely frozen mask, then took her seat. As she picked up her fork, she saw Kim in the doorway, and her eyebrows twitched together. "Whatever have you done to your dress, Kim?"

  "It was the monkey," Kim said.

  "Monkey?" Mrs. Lowe blinked, for once at a complete loss.

  "Yes, and quite unpleasant for you, I'm sure," Lady Wendall said, turning toward the table with her hands full of loaded dishes. "Use one of the napkins to clean it off for the time being."

  "She can't sit down to breakfast like that!" Mrs. Lowe protested as Kim set to work with the cloth. "She must go and change at once."

  "I'm sure Kim is just as hungry as I am," Lady Wendall said with a smile. "It wouldn't be kind to make her wait. Unless you'd rather change first, Kim? We can all wait for you, if you'd prefer."

  Kim shrugged. "It's no matter to me." Having food at all had always been far more important to her than the condition of the clothes she wore to eat it. She set the napkin on a side chair and began filling her plate.

  "The stain will set and ruin the dress," Mrs. Lowe said.

  "So much the better," Lady Wendall responded with unimpaired calm. "It's not a good color for her at all, and I intend to have it disposed of as soon as possible."

  Mrs. Lowe stared, and her chin lifted. "Disposed of?" she said in ominous tones.

  Lady Wendall nodded. "Unless you're particularly fond of it, Kim. It's well enough to wear about the house in Kent, but not for your first Season in London."

  "It is entirely appropriate for a girl in her situation," Mrs. Lowe said firmly.

  "I didn't say it was inappropriate," Lady Wendall said gently. "I said it was unbecoming. And Kim will want to look her best during her come-out."

  "Elizabeth, I do hope you are not going to encourage Richard in this notion he has taken of having the girl presented."

  Kim's half-formed protest stuck in her throat. She wasn't going to have a come-out, she'd settled that with Mairelon, but she couldn't quite say so if it meant agreeing with Mrs. Lowe in public. She coughed, trying to clear away the obstruction, but before she could find a good way to phrase her comment, the door opened and Mairelon entered.

  "Good morning, Mother," he said. "I thought it must be you when I heard the commotion in the hall, and I was sure of it when I found a monkey in the library. Why a monkey, of all things?"

  "Yes, isn't he charming?" Lady Wendall said. "Pahari Singh sent him to me. Actually, he sent three of them, but I'm afraid the other two didn't survive the voyage from India."

  "Three monkeys?" Mrs. Lowe said.

  "Who is Pahari Singh, and why on earth would he send you one monkey, let alone three?" Mairelon demanded.

  "He was a good friend of your father's, from his days in India, though that, of course, was before you and Andrew were born. He was in London a few years ago on business, and he made a point of renewing the acquaintance."

  "That explains who he is," Mairelon said, "but not why he should choose to send you a batch of monkeys."

  "I believe he wanted to make sure I would have more than one serving," Lady Wendall replied. "Though his note was not exactly specific on the subject."

  "Serving?" Mrs. Lowe said faintly. She set her fork carefully beside her unfinished breakfast. "Elizabeth . . ."

  Mairelon looked at Lady Wendall with considerable misgiving. "Mother, are you saying that Mr. Singh sent you this creature as a . . . an addition to your dinner menu?"

  "In a way. Monkey brains are considered a delicacy in India, and--"

  "You're going to eat a monkey brain?" Kim broke in, thoroughly taken aback.

  Lady Wendall gave a regretful sigh. "Not any time soon, I am afraid. I simply couldn't bear to have Maximillian slaughtered. It will just have to wait until the next time I visit India."

  "Thank goodness for that," Mairelon said. "You know, monkeys are filthy creatures. You're lucky he doesn't have lice. Or fleas."

  "Oh, he had both, when he arrived," Lady Wendall said imperturbably. "I had him bathed, naturally."

  "I should hope so," Mrs. Lowe put in. She appeared to have recovered her equanimity, though she had not yet returned to her breakfast. "That does not explain, however, why you have chosen to introduce him into this household."

  "Well, Lord Wendall couldn't very well take Maximillian to Suffolk with him, and I couldn't very well leave him in Russell Square with the renovations going on. So of course I brought him with me."

  "Renovations?" Mairelon frowned. "Mother . . ."

  "Renovations?" Mrs. Lowe stared. "Elizabeth, do you mean to say that you intend to stay here for the entire Season?"

  "Yes, of course," Lady Wendall said. "Lord Wendall and Andrew are going to be in Suffolk discussing canals for the greater part of it, so Andrew offered to let me use the townhouse. He did warn me that Richard and Kim--and you, of course, Agatha--would be here, and I was of two minds about it until I heard that Richard was planning to give Kim a formal come-out."

  "And when did you hear that?" Mrs. Lowe said, with a look at Mairelon that would have set fire to a heap of coal.

  "Yesterday, at Lady Weydon's saloon," Lady Wendall replied. "Sally Jersey told me; she had it from
someone who had been having tea with Richard. And I can already see that I was quite right to come." She turned to Mairelon. "Really, Richard, I thought you'd have had better sense. You've got her rigged out like a greengrocer's daughter."

  "Kim's clothes are entirely suitable for her situation," Mrs. Lowe said, bristling.

  Kim shifted uncomfortably. "It's not slap up to the nines, but neither am I."

  "Nonsense," Mairelon said. "You look perfectly all right to me."

  "That is precisely the problem," Lady Wendall told him. "Why on earth didn't you ask your friend Mademoiselle D'Auber to help you? If there's one thing the French know how to do, it's dress."

  "She offered," Mairelon admitted, looking a little guilty, "but we didn't have time before Kim and I went down to Kent, and since we've been back, there have been other things. . . ."

  "Well, you had better send her a note today," Lady Wendall said. "I shall be occupied in going through Kim's clothes, to see which of them are suitable, and in engaging an abigail for her."

  Mrs. Lowe frowned. "Surely one of the housemaids will do well enough."

  "I don't want an abigail," Kim said. "And--"

  "I don't blame you in the least," Lady Wendall told her, "but an abigail you must have if we are to launch you into Society." She studied Kim for a moment, her expression disconcertingly like Mairelon's when he was concentrating all his attention on something. "Someone young and flexible, I think, who will know when to make allowances for the eccentricities of wizards."

  "Kim is hardly eccentric, Mother," Mairelon said.

  "Nor is she the only wizard in this household," Lady Wendall replied. "Though if you can think of a more socially acceptable description of her background than 'eccentric,' I will be delighted."

  "I am relieved to see that you are aware of the problem," Mrs. Lowe said stiffly.

  "Perhaps Renee can recommend a suitable abigail," Lady Wendall went on. "You must remember to ask her when you speak to her about Kim's clothes."

  "Mairelon--" Kim said, feeling desperate. The whole conversation was getting out of hand. If one of them didn't say something soon, she was going to find herself presented whether she wanted to be or not. And Mairelon had promised to speak with Mrs. Lowe about it. . . .

  But Mairelon's face had the peculiar expression he wore when he had just had an idea, and he was oblivious to anything else. "Renee. Of course; I should have thought of that myself. You haven't anything planned this morning, have you, Kim? Good; finish your breakfast, and we'll go see Renee."

  "I'm finished," Kim said. "But--"

  "Change your clothes first," Mrs. Lowe said. "You positively cannot be seen on the street like that."

  Lady Wendall nodded. "Just what I have been saying. I'll send a note to Madame Chandelaine this afternoon; there's no better dressmaker in London."

  There was no use talking to any of them now. Maybe Renee D'Auber would have some advice; she was a lot more sensible than most toffs. Kim rolled her eyes and left.

  When Kim and Mairelon arrived at Renee D'Auber's townhouse, a formidably correct butler showed them up to the drawing room at once. There they found Mademoiselle D'Auber busy at a small writing table. Her auburn hair was braided close to her head, and there was a smudge of dust or ink on the point of her chin; she resembled neither an elegant lady of fashion nor a wizard of power and skill, though she was both. A stack of books stood on a side table next to her. A faint scent of incense lingered in the air; Mademoiselle D'Auber must have been spellcasting recently. As the butler announced them, she looked up and smiled.

  "Monsieur Merrill! And Mademoiselle Kim. It is of all things good to see you."

  "And it is always good to see you, Renee," Mairelon said with a warm smile.

  "You are kind, but it is not often that you come so early," Renee said, returning Mairelon's smile. "Sit down, and tell me what it is that brings you."

  As she took a chair covered in wine-red silk, Kim watched her two companions with curiosity bordering on bafflement. Though she had known both Mairelon and Renee D'Auber for a year now, she could not begin to pretend that she understood their relationship. There seemed to be no element of romance between them, and she had observed them closely enough to stake her position as Mairelon's ward that there was no physical intimacy, either. Yet there was an undeniable warmth and familiarity in their conversation that, if Mrs. Lowe were to be believed, was not fitting between an unattached man and a respectable young woman of quality. Maybe it was because they were both wizards, or perhaps it had something to do with the years Mairelon had spent gathering intelligence in France.

  "Two things," Mairelon said. "First, can you tell me anything about a group of French wizards called Les Griffonais? They apparently had something of a name in France before the Terror."

  Renee looked at him with considerable amusement. "And you expect that I will know something of them? The Terror was nearly thirty years ago, and me, I was not yet born." She held up a hand to forestall Mairelon's next comment and continued, "I do not say I have not heard of them, but I wish to know why you have this interest before I say any more. Otherwise you will not tell me anything, and I shall perish of the curiosity."

  "My father bought part of a library collection that once belonged to a Madame Marie de Cambriol. Lord Kerring down at the Royal College says she was one of the group."

  "And?"

  Mairelon sighed. "And somebody seems a little too interested in Madame's collection for my peace of mind."

  Mademoiselle D'Auber looked at him with disfavor. "You, my friend, are entirely English, which is a thing impossible to understand. And you are even more impossible to get answers from than other English persons. Kim! What is it that he means by this 'too interested for his peace of mind'?"

  "Some toff wizard broke into the house night before last," Kim said. "He was looking for something in the library, and he had a spell with him that lit up all the books from the Cambriol mort's collection."

  "We think he only wanted one of the books," Mairelon said, "but Kim ran him off before he could take it."

  "You are sure?"

  Mairelon shrugged. "Andrew had an inventory done when my father died; everything on the list is still there."

  Renee nodded. "Very good. Now I will tell you what I know, which is not much. I never met this Marie de Cambriol, but the Sieur Jacques de Cambriol was a friend of my father's. His wife died very suddenly, a year or two after they emigrated, and when I was very little he used to come to dinner with my parents."

  "Was the Sieur de Cambriol a wizard?"

  "No. I do not know what he was in France, before the Terror, but afterward he was a gambler. Papa spoke of him often, and tried to help when he could. He died nearly ten years ago, I think, in the debtors' prison."

  "So they escaped the Terror and came to England--"

  "No," Renee corrected. "They left France before the Terror began, the Sieur Jacques and his wife and their friends." She frowned. "The Sieur used to tell me the story, with much waving of hands. I am afraid I do not recollect the details at all clearly--it was not a daring escape, you see, but simply prudent. And the prudence, it did not at all interest me when I was a child."

  Mairelon straightened. "The de Cambriols and their friends left France before the Terror? That wouldn't by any chance be the rest of the group of wizards?"

  "I think it was," Renee said after some thought. "But I am not positive, you understand."

  "Do you know who the others were?" Kim asked.

  "Les Griffonais? Let me think. Madame de Cambriol, of course, and the Comte du Franchard and his wife, the Comtesse de Beauvoix. The duchesse Delagardie. The Hungarian, Monsieur Laszlo Karolyi. Monsieur Henri d'Armand. And Mademoiselle Jeannette Lepain, who as a child I thought was of all things most romantic because she married a Russian prince."

  "Do you know whether any of them are in England now?" Mairelon said.

  "No, I do not know," Renee said. "They were not, you understand, friends of mine;
I do not think even Papa knew any of them except Sieur de Cambriol."

  "Well, at least now I have some names," Mairelon said. "Thank you, Renee. I wonder whether Shoreham is still keeping track of the emigres. I believe I'll stop in and ask him tomorrow."

  "And your other reason for coming to visit me?" Mademoiselle D'Auber said. "You said there were two."

  "What? Oh, yes, well, that's Kim's, actually. Mother arrived this morning and says she's not dressed properly; she thought you might be interested in helping out."

  "Mairelon," Kim said, thoroughly exasperated.

  "Yes, he is of all persons the most excessively trying," Renee said, nodding. "Now you will tell me what it is he is trying to say."

  "He said it, but--Lady Wendall only wants me to dress better because she thinks Mairelon's going to present me to Society. And he isn't."

  Renee's eyebrows rose expressively. "Not?"

  "Kim doesn't wish it," Mairelon said shortly.

  The eyebrows twitched, then rose even higher. "Indeed. Then how is it your so-estimable mother is of the idea that you will do so?"

  "Gossip," Mairelon said.

  "It ain't just gossip!" Kim said. "It's what you said at that tea. Your mother believes it, and the way she's going on, I'm like to be presented tomorrow whether I want it or not."

  "I'll explain to Mother as soon as we get back," Mairelon said. "She'll understand. Though she would certainly enjoy managing it."

  "One moment," Renee said, looking from one to the other. "I wish first to know why it is that Mademoiselle Kim does not wish to be presented."

  "I--" Kim swallowed hard. "Look, this ain't--isn't going to sound right, but I just don't like it. Making up to a bunch of old cats just because they say who gets invited to a lot of boring teas and balls. . . . Doing the wizard stuff is hard enough. And I'm not good at watching what I say." She gestured helplessly. "It just wouldn't work."

  "But of course it would work!" Renee shook her head reprovingly. "You are a wizard. It is expected that you will be entirely original. And there are many advantages, you know."