A School for Unusual Girls (11 page)

My stomach twisted into a sickening knot just as it had last night. Except, this morning, it tightened around sausages and curried eggs. I refused to get sick. I would not humiliate myself in front of her. So, despite the squeezing knot in my belly, I clamped my lips together and swallowed hard. If only I could run from the room and curl up in a corner somewhere. Maybe then, I wouldn't feel like retching. But my stern headmistress stood between me and the door, searching my face for weakness, waiting for me to say those torturous words.
My defects
.

I would've preferred the rack. Thrusting my chin into the air, I said, “My eccentricities.”

“
Eccentricities
?” The corner of her mouth angled up slightly. “Is that what you call it? I should rather have thought of it as the workings of a brilliant mind.”

I blinked. No one, except my brother, had ever said such a thing about me before. Wary, I edged away. “I saw your torture chamber. I know what you do in this school.”

“Do you?” She feigned innocence.

“Yes. Everyone knows your reputation. I daresay there are hangmen considered more merciful.”

Her shoulder lifted in a minuscule shrug.

“I saw with my own eyes. Bruises and cuts on the other girls. Manacles. Whips. Jane locked in a spiked mummy case.”

She squared her shoulders. “The chamber has its uses.”

“Oh, yes, I imagine so.” My chest heaved with indignation. “Useful for reforming brilliant minds into unexceptional ones. For ridding your students of their eccentricities.”

“Do you really think such punishments could accomplish all that?”

Her question caught me off guard. I drew back.
It wouldn't work on me. I would rather die.
“No,” I admitted.

She waved her hand at the laboratory equipment. “And this? Do you think this is a devious plan to rid you of your
eccentricities
? A clever ploy—if you are free to experiment, science will lose its appeal?” She waited for me to respond. When I didn't, her mouth twitched into a smirk. “Of course, if you'd prefer to have a go on the rack, I'll simply have to oblige you.”

I blinked, unable to find my bearings with her.

“Come now, Georgiana. Do you want to work on your formula, or not? It occurred to me that with the proper equipment you might not burn down any more stables.”

True. With proper equipment, that fire would never have happened. Was this another tactic? Apparently she was quite fond of misdirection. “I know what you want,” I said. “You want me to finish the ink formula for Lord Wyatt and Captain Grey.”

“Yes.” A tiny hint of admiration softened her features. “That is precisely what I want.”

“Why? What makes you think my ink is anything of value?”

“Your mother's letters were quite explicit about your experiments.”

A lie.
“Impossible.” I squinted and crossed my arms. “Until the fire she never cared one wit about anything I did. She wouldn't know anything beyond the fact that I was working on an invisible ink. Her letters would've been full of complaints. Nothing substantial enough to merit all this.” I waved at the equipment.

The intrepid Miss Stranje pressed her lips tight, buying time to construct another untruth. I gave her no quarter. “What does Miss Grissmore have to do with any of this? If you have harmed her in any way—”

“Hardly!” She glanced up sharp at that, like a hawk discovering the mouse in her claws had rather pointy teeth. “Miss Grissmore and I are former schoolmates. She came to me after your parents turned her out without a reference.”

“Oh.” I cooled considerably and turned away, toying with one of the brass weights for the scale. “Thank you for that. She didn't deserve such poor treatment. Grissy was an excellent teacher.”

Miss Stranje took a deep breath and proceeded with a softer tone. “She speaks rather highly of you as well. She convinced me that you are capable of developing an ink. On the strength of her recommendation I procured this equipment.”

“I see.” Except, I didn't see. I couldn't see any more than a blind man in an apothecary shop. Miss Stranje and Miss Grissmore were friends.
Impossible
. Everything suddenly felt topsy-turvy. My assumptions were all called into question. I kneaded my temple. “Very well, you've explained
how,
but you've still not told me
why
. What do you intend to do with my ink?”

“A prudent question.” This response did not come from Miss Stranje. I spun toward the deep voice. Sebastian and Captain Grey stood in the doorway. The captain approached us. “Well done, Miss Fitzwilliam. It is right that you should ask.” He bowed. “I'm relieved to see you have recovered from your mishap.”

“Captain, how good of you to come.” Miss Stranje met him with rosy warmth. The two grasped each other's hands as if they were lifelong friends, and just as quickly stepped apart, blushing and awkward.

Miss Stranje tried to hide her reaction by introducing them to me. “Captain Grey, Lord Wyatt, you've already met my new student, but under … how shall I say … under less-than-appropriate circumstances. Please, allow me to properly present to you, Miss Georgiana Fitzwilliam.”

I dropped into a curtsey elegant enough to please even my mother, wishing the whole time that my wretched hair did not resemble a stork's nest smushed into one paltry white ribbon. But it did. There was no help for it, and because there is no sense trying to pretend one is a silk purse, when one is, in fact, a sow's ear, I quickly dispensed with the niceties.

“Pleased to meet you, Captain Grey.” I intentionally took no notice of Sebastian. “Now, if you will kindly explain what it is you want with my ink, and why I should trust—”

“Georgiana!” Miss Stranje cut me short. “You will not take that rude tone. Captain Grey is a man to whom we owe much. It is only his generosity and goodwill that allows us to live here. This house, the grounds, the cottages and adjoining property, all belong to him.”

The gentleman shook his head. “No, no, my dear Miss Stranje, you must not credit me with such virtues. It is not generosity on my part. You are a most excellent overseer. The estate flourishes under your guidance and your students' contributions.” He caught his breath and stepped back from her. “By rights the house ought to be yours. Your father would have left it to you, if it were not for that abominable entailment, or if you'd had a brother.…”

He stopped. Warmth colored his cheeks. His mellow voice caught and his easy manner turned awkward and unexpectedly boyish. “It is the least I can do.”

Clearly, generosity had little to do with the matter.
Remarkable.
Poor earnest Captain Grey appeared to be in love with my scheming headmistress.

“There you have it,” Miss Stranje resumed lecturing me. “Captain Grey deserves our utmost respect. You may not demand answers of him as if you were the local magistrate.”

Oh, if only I were the magistrate. This school and her malevolent discipline chamber would be banished from England. I silenced myself, clamped my lips together, and turned my thoughts to how I might finagle the truth out of them as to what they wanted with my ink.

Captain Grey clasped his hands behind his back and paced a step or two before stopping in front of me. “It is right and proper that you should ask these questions, Miss Fitzwilliam. It is crucial that your formula be guarded. In the wrong hands, it would be a dangerous tool.” He took a deep breath. “I will explain our interest.”

“Proceed cautiously, Ethan,” Sebastian warned. He leaned against the doorpost, his arms crossed over his chest as if he was bored. “She is, after all, a girl. And girls must talk.
Incessantly
.” He uncrossed his arms and strolled toward us. “They tend to do so without regard for the importance of secrecy.”

Oh, that topped it. I couldn't keep a secret? Bird's-nest hair or not, I confronted his high and mighty lordship. “I sincerely doubt the topic of invisible ink will come up while chatting with my friends about how many ruffles to put on my next ball gown.”

Sebastian brazenly perused my sprigged muslin morning dress with so critical an eye that obviously he doubted I'd ever worn a ball gown.

No matter that I hadn't. I certainly could have, if I'd ever had the slightest interest in such frivolous things. Which I did not. In light of his scorn, I decided to have a ball gown made for me just to spite him. Although, how it would spite him, I wasn't quite certain.

Oh, confound it all! The man was muddling my thinking.

Captain Grey clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. “In that case, I shall leave the explanations to you.” He bowed to me, a veritable saint compared to his brutish companion. “Miss Fitzwilliam, I leave you in the capable hands of Lord Wyatt. Not only is my nephew an able attaché, he is, like yourself, a student of science. It may please you to know that he is acquainted with the author of one of your books. When Sebastian was a very young lad, he and his father helped Monsieur Lavoisier's wife smug—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Pardon me. What I meant to say is he and his father helped her
transport
out of France some of Monsieur Lavoisier's writings and equipment.”

Sebastian crossed to the other side of the table and lifted a small glass beaker, turning it round and round in his fingers. “Captain Grey exaggerates my part. I only helped my father carry away a few sacks and provide a diversion. But I remember her. A brave intelligent woman, Madame Lavoisier. Without her, we would know nothing of these instruments.” He set down the flask with a reverence that surprised me. “Nor would you have his notes. After her husband's capture, the revolutionaries confiscated almost everything.
The Republic does not need scientists or chemists,
that's what they said, right before they beheaded him.” He flicked his finger against the flask. “They guillotined both her husband and her father on the very same day.”

We stood in morbid silence. I could not keep from pressing my hand against my throat.

Captain Grey nodded farewell and Miss Stranje took his arm. They headed for the door. Surely she didn't intend to leave me here alone with Sebastian. It wouldn't be proper. “You're leaving?”

“Captain Grey and I have business matters to discuss. You won't be alone, Miss Fitzwilliam.” She tilted her head toward the corner. “Madame Cho will act as my emissary.”

It was then that I realized Madame Cho had slithered into the room without my noticing. The old dragon sat in the corner watching me with her cold lizard eyes. Sebastian took off his coat, flipped open my Persian alchemy book, loosened his cravat, and rolled up his cuffs.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” He continued to roll up his sleeves. “If you're not planning to use this equipment, I most certainly will.”

“You can't simply assume command here. This is my laboratory.”

“Is it?”

Not mine. Not exactly. I spared a covetous glance at the equipment table. “You promised to explain why you want my formula.”

“I did not,” he said, and turned his attention to the Persian book.

“I heard you. You told Captain Grey—”

He scoffed at me. “I know exactly what I said. I told him to proceed cautiously, because girls talk too much.”

I reached over, shut my Persian manual, and clutched the fragile old book to my bosom. “And
boys
talk too little.”

Obviously, he wasn't a boy. I had only emphasized the word to annoy him, and it did. He flinched ever so slightly, but enough that it pleased me. He deserved a set-down.

“I suggest you explain,” I said.

If he thought his measly glower would frighten me, he was wrong. My father, with his grizzled skin, lionlike side whiskers, and bulbous nose, possessed a far more terrifying frown. Sebastian had a fine straight nose, a defined jaw, with smooth inviting skin. His eyebrows, although they sat at a wicked brooding slant, weren't nearly as fierce as my father's bushy ones. I met his gaze with steady ease. I even managed a triumphant smile.

He exhaled noisily. “How do you expect me to explain it to you? You couldn't possibly understand.” He waved my bravado away. “Impossible. You're completely ignorant of world affairs. An
innocent
.”

He spat the word at me, twisted it, as if being innocent meant I was vulgar and indecent. Suddenly, his hard stare made me uncomfortable in a way my father's never could. I backed away, brushing against the scales, sending the sensitive trays bobbling noisily. The sound of the clinking brass tumbled through my belly. I couldn't meet his gaze.

I swallowed and sucked in my discomfort. “Why do you think I've been working so tirelessly to find an invisible ink?” I wasn't about to tell him about my brother's death. That was too personal for the likes of him. I jutted my chin. “I'm well aware of world affairs.”

“Well aware?” He scoffed. “Do you have any idea what's happening on the continent at the moment?” He sounded exasperated with me.

I stiffened my spine, as I had seen my mother do a thousand times. “Certainly. Napoleon has surrendered, he abdicated his throne, and they've banished him to Elba.”

“Oh, very good. Even a chimney sweep knows that much.”

Madame Cho chuckled softly.

“At least, we finally have peace,” I defended.

He shook his head and muttered, “
Peace
.”

For no reason at all, I felt like crying. I was not stupid. And this … this
boy
was not going to make me feel like a simpleton.

“Very well then, if I am so ignorant”—I shoved past him and snatched my manuals and notes away—“so disgustingly
innocent,
I suggest you enlighten me.”