Home From The Sea: The Elemental Masters, Book Seven Read online

  And the end of that path was darkness.

  “Well, and that may be true,” Idwal replied, weaving his magic about himself as he spoke, so that it looked as if he was sitting in the midst of a dome of lace. “And it would explain why he is being so desperate-stubborn. But he is a man of the law, and would it not be the better for him to be an honest man and say ‘I can find nothing,’ than to bear false witness? Is it not better to be honest, and stand up bravely against the consequences? Would his superiors respect him more? They certainly cannot respect him now, at all.”

  Ah, now… that made her feel better again. “It would,” she agreed. She looked to the sea. “Do you think Rhodri has been warned yet?” Rhodri was the only one of the four Selch left; Siarl had left at midsummer and Trefor a week ago. She expected Gethin to turn up any day now to demand that she wed the younger Selch, and she still didn’t know what she was going to say. Idwal seemed content that she would think of something, or he would, or they both would.

  “I do. Although he is always cautious, and has had his own watchers watching for those who should not be here.” Idwal sketched in another section on his casting. “And I would not concern myself that Gethin will appear any time soon,” he added soothingly, as if he had read her thoughts. “Siarl decided that he would go to visit our Scottish kin, and Trefor conceived of a notion to have a look about in Ireland to see if there was a Selch maid that suited him. Truth to tell, they volunteered out of a sense of duty to the clan, and not because they fell in a passion over you at first sight. I think how things fell out gave them relief rather than otherwise. They have not told Gethin that they left, since the less he knows, the less he can forbid.”

  “Well, I wish you had told me all this!” she exclaimed. “Here I was fretting that Gethin would be turning up at any moment!”

  “I just did,” he teased.

  “I would throw something at your head, but the peas will not shuck themselves,” she retorted. This was part of the business of preparing for winter. True, her father could go out fishing, but you could not live on fish alone, and there were times when the storms were bad enough that even he would not go out—nor could they get to the village for provisions. Dried peas made a good soup, tasty with a bit of bacon, but they did need to be hulled, and it was better to do it now rather than later. Being left in the hulls made them more prone to mold.

  “We sound like a married couple already,” he observed. “You, threatening to throw things at my head—”

  “And so I will, if you don’t reweave that last bit of your magic, so I can see how you did it,” she replied serenely. “Teacher.”

  He laughed. “And if we are fortunate, yon snoop will perish of the boredom of counting every pea you shuck.”

  13

  THE postal service could be astonishingly rapid… especially when you took your letter directly to the depot so the postmaster could put it on the next train out. Both Nan and Sarah had written to Lord Alderscroft, each voicing similar, but not identical, concerns.

  The reply came in three days, and it was not what Nan and Sarah had expected.

  A messenger came in person from Criccieth to the cottage with a telegraph. Brother arriving Criccieth tomorrow. Meet at Lion. Naturally the messenger’s arrival caused a stir at the Manor, but no one intruded to ask what the telegram was—yet. Nan expected to get an invitation up to the Manor from Squire’s wife as soon as the messenger passed her door on his way back to the town.

  “Brother?” Sarah’s eyebrows arched. “We had better have an explanation for that! And for the telegraph, I suppose…”

  “That must be Andrew Talbot, of course.” Nan laughed. “I must say of Lord A, he does think of good answers very quickly. Andrew speaks good Welsh, and he can easily pass as our brother. And since tomorrow is Saturday, he can meet us and be back at school without missing too many classes.”

  “And the Lion is the Lion Hotel.” Sarah nodded. She noted that Lord Alderscroft had not signed the telegram, so it could easily have come from their supposed father.

  “I’ll go up to the manor and arrange for the trap and pony.” Nan pursed her lips. “I had better look worried. Telegrams generally mean bad news. Be prepared for an invitation for tea and sympathy; I expect we’ll be at the Manor until suppertime being reassured.”

  So that was what she did, and as a result, the next day they were sent off by an anxious squire, who urged on them that if there was anything he could do to help them, they must let him know, and if they needed to leave right away, they could trust him to pack up and send their things on.

  The birds always enjoyed a ride in the trap, clinging to the back of the seat in Grey’s case, or flying free in Neville’s until he tired of it and joined Grey. The day was cool, and the pony eager to get to Criccieth where he knew he would find a comfortable stall and a bag of oats waiting at the Lion Hotel for him, so they made good time.

  Andrew was waiting for them, doing a tolerable imitation of an anxious elder brother. He ushered them into a private dining room and closed the door. There was tea and cakes waiting, the universal British comfort in times of stress. Nan examined the cake-tray, for in her experience, the cakes one was presented with were an indication of what the staff assumed was going on. The cream cakes arranged there indicated that the staff had learned enough to think that Andrew’s “news” was bad. Servants, as she had good reason to know, knew everything, often before their masters did.

  Andrew relaxed, once the door was closed, dropped down into a chair, and helped himself to a cake. “Well! Lord Alderscroft suggested that our supposed family has come down with something contagious, and your siblings are getting it one by one. Have you any suggestions? I was vague when I got here, I was careful to imply it was not life-threatening, but I think I mentioned quarantine. I also mentioned the usual numerous siblings; it seems to be expected in the families of clerics. Well, other than Roman Catholic priests!” He chuckled at his own joke.

  “Measles? Mumps?” said Sarah. “Scarlet fever or smallpox won’t do; those are more likely to be fatal, and we would have to look tearful and anxious all the time, and whooping cough generally takes off babies rather than adults.”

  “You have a very good point,” Andrew said after a moment. Nan nodded. “If it were something where someone might die, we’d have to have reassuring telegrams at regular intervals. Instead, we can have letters, and express that we are grateful to be here instead of there.”

  “Definitely measles, I think,” Andrew decided. “I’ve known it to take an entire season to go through a family, and most folks get through it just with a great deal of annoyance. And then we can have the mumps if we need to.”

  Sarah nodded; Nan left this part up to her. Between Lord Alderscroft and Memsa’b, the School had rarely seen any serious illness, so she had nothing to offer for this part of the subterfuge.

  Sarah and Andrew worked out all of the details while Nan waited for them to get to something she could contribute to, sipping her tea. The cakes were very good, and the staff was right about cream being soothing. Finally, Andrew got to what his real purpose was. “Obviously in light of what is going on with that girl and the Selch, Lord Alderscroft is most anxious for you to remain. Candidly, we’ve never known of a Master to be so… intimately involved with an Elemental creature before. I mean, obviously the Selch are a different matter from most Elementals, because they’re half mortal and quite physical, and certainly enjoy no longer lives than the rest of us. But… still.”

  “Still,” Nan agreed.

  “Ordinarily, he’d have one of us here—but you are dealing with a young female with whom you have established a friendship.” He shrugged. “Most of the White Lodge is made up of the upper classes, and all of them are male. To insert a strange man into this situation—probably a strange man with a title—well, that would just be asking for trouble.”

  Nan would have snorted, but Neville beat her to it by making the rudest noise imaginable. “Neville, you are a
bsolutely right,” she said, giving Andrew a look that made him shrink a little. “Asking for trouble? Oh, you would get trouble, all right. At the very least, you’d be attracting all sorts of unwanted, unasked-for attention to Mari. And Mari would probably show the lot of you the door, if not shy a rock or two at you as you left, and quite properly too, for meddling in her affairs.”

  “Ah,” Andrew managed.

  “Really, Andrew, how can you sit there and talk about Mari as if she was some sort of—interesting insect?” Sarah demanded.

  Andrew withered beneath their gazes. “I really am sorry… I can see that was dreadfully rude…”

  “All right then. You just make sure that his lordship is well aware that this girl is not some abstract thing he can move about on a game-board,” sniffed Nan. “And since he’s asked us to stay, and I presume you are about to tell us how he intends to support us in doing so, you can tell him that we will make sure to keep him well informed and to do our best for Mari.”

  “Ah. Yes.” Andrew cleared his throat self-consciously. “Yes. Lord Alderscroft is going to make sure you have everything you need. Winter clothing, for instance. We’ve arranged for that already. Memsa’b will be sending it as she has your old winter stuff, and knows your sizes and can have more made up. And as for the cottage…” He grinned. “Lord Alderscroft is going to invite your good landlord and his lady to London out of gratitude for hosting you all winter. They’ll even be presented to the queen. While they’re gone, I’ll come down again with a couple of helpers and we’ll make sure the cottage is ready for winter. It probably won’t take much but having one of the Air Masters out to find all the leaks and drafts, get them sealed up, and put in a stove or two. But whatever it takes, your feathered friends will be as cozy as if they were at home.”

  Grey bowed her head to him. “T’anks,” Neville quorked.

  “Now… here is where we need to put our heads together, for Sarah, you were entirely right. On the strength of your letter, Lord Alderscroft has done some discreet inquiries. That constable has been sent to find trouble, and if he can’t find any, he is the sort that will make it.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Sarah replied, and frowned. “This is utterly vexing. Things would be so much simpler if he would just go away.”

  But Andrew shook his head. “Not with the miner unrest. His superiors are the sort to see conspiracy everywhere. And we have an entirely unexplained man here, with no known origin, who is going to take up very visibly with Mari. We must make sure this marriage looks as regular as possible, and we must at all cost divert any suspicion from the Selch. So that means explaining the Selch, somehow—then doing it all right. Posting the banns, a proper wedding of some sort.” He sighed and looked mournful. “His lordship left all that up to me. And this is where I come a-cropper. You two have been living here all summer. Just how are we going to make this work?”

  It seemed to Nan that military campaigns had been planned with less precision. Fortunately, Sarah’d had the forethought to bring one of her sketchbooks to take notes in, for Nan was certain she would never remember it all.

  As they left the room, Sarah was lamenting just loud enough to hear a combination of how unjust it was for “poor, dear mother” to have to deal with a house full of children who would all, surely, get the measles, and a modicum of guilt that they would be “enjoying ourselves in our own little hide-away,” while their mother managed alone.

  “Well, you’re better off than I am,” Andrew grumbled. “I’m banished to university; I won’t even be allowed home for Christmas.” Then he brightened. “But Lord Alderscroft said I can come down to London at least. That should be jolly.”

  That was the signal for Sarah to urge him not to drink too much, or stay up too late at card parties, or eat too much fancy food. To which Andrew reacted as any older brother would to such unsolicited advice, by looking put-upon and hustling them to their little cart and urging them to get back to their cottage before it got dark. It was a tolerably good acting job on all their parts.

  Squire and his wife were waiting anxiously, and the stableboy that came to take the pony stopped them before they could go down to the cottage. “Squire and the mistress are waiting for you in the parlor, miss,” he said sturdily, and in a tone that informed them that it would not be a good idea to beg off. So they went up to the door, and the head maidservant was waiting just inside to usher them up.

  Nan privately thought it was the best job of acting they had ever done. She was ridiculously proud of it. In that slightly stuffy, old-fashioned parlor, she and Sarah and the birds (who thankfully remained silent) were given the best seats and urged, “Please, you can tell us everything.”

  She was the older sister who was not at all averse to being here where it was “so nice,” and reminding Sarah over and over that “she was not to undo all the good the summer had done for her,” and that “running after the little ones will only make you ill again.” She even improvised two maiden aunts who “will be sure to come help Mother, so she won’t be coping alone,” because there was, after all, an empty bedroom in the house (theirs) and they could be put up splendidly. “They’ll even manage Christmas; you know Aunt Beatrice does the goose better than Mother.”

  That was the cue for Sarah to lament Christmas away from the family, apologize that they were inflicting themselves on the squire over that time, and get reassurances that the squire couldn’t be happier than to have them at his family festivities.

  And that gave the opening for his good lady Delyth to wax eloquent on her two sons and daughter, all married, who would be bringing their broods—and how all of them had safely weathered measles, mumps, croup, and a variety of plagues. “So all will be well, my dear, and we’ll love to have you with us!”

  Much pleasure was expressed over having “two such good girls in the cottage,” much sympathy was tendered, and much assurance given that “we’ll see everything is cozy and pleasant, and soon this illness will have run its course and you’ll be back with your family.”

  By then it was suppertime, and their host would not hear of them going down to their cottage and fixing a sad and lonely meal. So they enjoyed a perfectly done saddle of mutton with the two good old people, and afterwards one of the servants lit their way down to the cottage with a lantern.

  “That went well,” Nan observed, as she went around lighting the lamps and seeing to the fire in the stove. It was definitely tending fall; no more leaving the windows open at night, and they were grateful for the stove. Soon enough they would be grateful to have three.

  “You were wonderful!” Sarah said, grinning. “I never would have thought of the aunts.”

  “It was logical. It seems we come from a numerous family,” Nan observed. “A couple of spare aunts wouldn’t come amiss in a crisis like that.”

  “They’d be entirely handy.” Sarah yawned hugely. “All right, I am in favor of a little reading in bed and then sleep. Tomorrow should be… even more interesting.”

  Nan snorted. “Tomorrow we find out if we’re as persuasive with the stubbornest girl I ever saw who wasn’t me.” And her face clouded a little. “You know, we are going to have to tell her the truth.”

  Neville fluttered up onto Nan’s shoulder and rubbed his beak against her cheek. She reached up to scratch his neck.

  “She’ll be angry, but she has sense,” Sarah pointed out. “As long as we can get her to listen to us, I think it will be all right.”

  “Yes, well.” Nan got her book and dropped ungracefully into her now-favorite chair. “It’s the getting her to listen part that I am worried about.”

  Mari could tell just from how Nan and Sarah walked that they had a lot to tell her. And she knew they had been gone off to Criccieth twice in the last week, the latest time being just yesterday. So she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect…

  Idwal watched them approach with his head tilted to the side, but said nothing.

  Nan was the first to speak, taking a deep breath.
“I think we need to be somewhere that we are all sitting down,” she said, looking both determined and a little apprehensive. “Where we won’t be watched.”

  Mari nodded towards the cottage. “We’ll still be watched, probably, though he won’t be able to see us,” she said with undisguised contempt. “You know, ’tis the first time I ever regret that there’s not more trouble in Clogwyn. If there was, at least yon fool would have something to do besides lie on his belly under a gorse bush and snoop.”

  Nan snorted, but was happy to follow Mari into the cottage. When they were all seated around the fireplace, Mari looked at her expectantly.

  “We… haven’t been entirely honest with you, Mari,” Nan said, rubbing her thumb nervously over her forefinger. “You see, we were sent here. To find you.”

  It was a little difficult to grasp, even for herself, how Mari felt as Nan outlined the entire story. How the Master of this—White Lodge—had found out there was a new Water Master, and sent Nan and Sarah to look for him. How they’d found Mari, and Idwal, and been ordered to investigate further. How the Puck himself had gotten involved. How they’d worked out how to approach her. “And we really are your friends, truly!” Sarah said, pleadingly. “If we weren’t, we’d have told Lord A we couldn’t do this any more and gone home. We want to help you, and we think we’ve worked out how.”

  Truth to tell, at first she was so very angry she couldn’t speak, which was why she’d let them rattle on rather than getting up and giving them more than just a piece of her mind. The idea that a lot of foreign rich men off in London could sit in judgment on her and her life when they didn’t know her, didn’t know here, and didn’t know the first thing about the Selch or the Bargain or anything else—

  But it was that very anger that turned on itself. Because, when you thought about it, a bunch of rich foreign men in London were always sitting in judgment on the Welsh. That was why the constable was here in the first place, and he was making a lot of people angry and unhappy with his meddling and prying. At least this particular lot of men had had the good sense to leave things up to Nan and Sarah, who were not at all meddling, who had treated her like she was a sister, almost, and who, if they had lied to her, had done so to protect her.